What Lurks in the Backwoods
It was the camping trip we had all been waiting for. Weeks of meticulous planning had ensured that we had left nothing to chance, and that we would leave the city with nothing but confidence and excitement. It was a long weekend, meaning we had three nights to explore the seemingly endless expanse of beauty and nature that was Algonquin Park. Two of my friends, Jeremy and Jakob, had booked us a camping site deep in the backwoods, nestled right in the middle of the infinite amount of calm lakes and tall oak trees.
Every variable that could have an influence on the trip seemed in good shape the afternoon we left. The weather forecast showed nothing but beaming sun and warmth, traffic was going to be unusually low along the highway, we had packed a variety of meals and snacks, and we had rested well the night previous, giving us the necessary energy to hike and portage across the three lakes that stood between us and our site.
At 3 pm, we packed our bags in Jakob's car and hit the road. There were four of us: Jeremy, Jakob, Mick, and Eli (myself). It was the middle of the summer, so we figured we had until about 9 pm to get to our campsite before sundown. As we had to paddle across long lakes, as well as navigate some steep inclines and rocky terrain. We simply couldn't afford to get caught in the dark. As it took three hours to get to the main access point, this left us with three hours to navigate through the backwoods to our site.
In the car, the mood was jovial. We were happy to be done work for a while and to be able to kick back, drink lots of beer and smoke lots of weed – all this while completely free from the hustle and bustle of civilization.
"Yo Mick, did you remember to pack the binger?" Jakob was listing off items to make sure we had everything... double-checking and triple-checking.
"Yeah, it's wrapped up in my camping pack. Once we get to the site and set up our stuff I'll get it out."
I was getting giddy: "I'm so excited to just be on the lake getting yoed and sipping brews. It's been too long."
Meanwhile, Jeremy was thinking more responsibly: "We just gotta be sure that we have everything set up before we start drinking or anything. Setting up the tent and the tarp over-top, creating the hoist so bears don't muck our food, and collecting a good bundle of wood to start the fire."
He was right. The last thing we wanted was to be navigating in the dark while drunk or stoned trying to set up our site.
Mick kept the mood relaxed: "Don't worry about that, we'll have time. We'll split up responsibilities and it'll all be done pretty quickly."
At this point, I could hardly contain myself. Being in the backwoods was certainly an intimidating thought, but my buddies were all experienced, and I didn't have any doubt that we'd be well-prepared for the mission that was to come.
I fell into a nap the rest of the drive and woke up just before we got to the access point. When we got there, Jakob and Jeremy quickly got busy loading the canoes with our gear, while Mick and I went to go buy some extra ice for our coolers. When everything was ready to go, we launched ourselves from the beach and began paddling.
The mood changed quickly as we realized what we were up against. The wind had picked up considerably, creating choppy waters that took a lot of effort to paddle through. By the time we had reached the second portage, it was nearly sundown. I think we were all getting antsy, but it took Jakob speaking up to get us to make a decision.
"Kay, the sun's already starting to set. We're definitely not going to make it to our site tonight. I think we should just take the loss and set up on one of the open sites on the next lake."
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Creepypasta Stories
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