True Scary Hiker Encounters – They Warned Me Not to Hike Alone

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When you're out hiking, the
wilderness feels endless.

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The air is clean.
The world's quiet.

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Until it isn't.
Because the deeper you go, the

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more that quiet starts to
change.

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The wind moves differently.
The forest feels aware.

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And sometimes it feels like
something's hiking right behind

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you.
For most, it's just a feeling.

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For others, it's the start of
something they'll never forget.

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I'm Leon Leighton, and this is
the Leighton Files story.

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One The Thing by Devil's Hollow
by Ryan, Utah, 2017.

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I've been hiking for years,
mostly solo trips through Utah's

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canyons and desert trails.
It's the kind of landscape that

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can make you feel like you've
stepped off the map.

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Just endless rocks, sand and
wind.

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And always like that, the
isolation, the sense that you

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were walking through something
older than the world itself.

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That summer, I decided to hike a
trail in the place locals called

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Devil's Hollow, a dry riverbed
that cuts deep through red

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sandstone for miles.
The name didn't mean much to me

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at the time.
Utah has dozens of places with

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Devil in the name, but I'd later
learn that hikers avoid that

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one.
They say that the wind there

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made strange sounds, like a low
voice carried through the gorge.

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I start off early, carrying my
pack, water and a small camping

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settle.
The trail was quiet.

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After three hours, the Canyon
walls started to narrow and the

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sunlight turned to a dim orange
glow.

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I stopped there to rest and eat.
That's when I noticed the first

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thing out of place.
A handprint pressed into the

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rock beside where I sat.
It wasn't human.

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It had five long fingers, but
the shape was wrong.

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Each print ended in a sharp
point, and the palm was far too

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narrow.
What unsettled me more was how

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fresh it looked.
Still moist, like something oily

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had been on the stone.
I told myself it was just an old

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mark, maybe someone spilled
something.

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But when I moved on, I kept
catching a faint sound behind

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me.
It wasn't footsteps, more like a

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dragging, scraping rhythm that
stopped whenever I turned

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around.
By late afternoon, the Canyon

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opened up into a flat basin
filled with twisted trees.

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I decided to camp there for the
night.

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The wind was starting to rise,
carrying that strange whistling

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tone through the rocks, almost
like words you couldn't quite

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make out.
As the sun dropped, the

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temperature crashed.
I built a small fire and sipped

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myself into my tent.
My phone had no signal, just the

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static of the GPS app.
For a while, everything was

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still.
Then I heard it again, that

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dragging sound.
Closer this time.

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Something heavy, moving slow
just beyond the fire light.

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I unzipped the tent halfway and
shunned my torch out.

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The beam caught the edge of a
tree trunk, and then something

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ducked back behind it.
I only saw it for a split

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second, but it was tall, too
tall, maybe 7 feet or more.

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Skin the colour of ash and eyes
that reflected dull yellow when

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the light hit them.
My first thought was a person,

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maybe a hike, but no human moves
like that.

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It was too smooth, like watching
something glide rather than

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walk.
The sound come again, drag,

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pause, drag, closer each time.
I shouted out and told whoever

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it was to leave me alone.
The Canyon threw my voice back

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at me, hollow and thin.
Then silence.

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Nothing, not even the wind.
And then the smell hit me, like

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rotten meat left out in the sun.
The dragon started again, faster

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now, circling.
My fire popped and threw shadows

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across the rocks.
I caught a glimpse between the

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light, something hunched and
pale moving just beyond the

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glow.
It didn't step into the

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firelight, it stayed exactly
where it couldn't be seen

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clearly.
That's when I realized what the

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dragon was.
It wasn't walking, It was

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pulling something, a long limp
shape that scraped the ground as

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it moved.
I backed into my tent and

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grabbed a small knife from my
pack and listened.

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My heart was racing so loud I
thought it would give me away.

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The noise stopped right outside
the tent, maybe 2 feet from

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where I sat.
Then came a sound I'll never

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forget.
A low, throaty hiss that turned

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into something like a whisper.
It said my name, Ryan.

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I didn't remember packing up.
I don't remember dowsing the

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fire.
I just ran straight down the

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Canyon all night until the first
light hit the horizon.

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When I finally made it back to
my truck, my hands were shaking

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so badly I could barely get the
keys in the door.

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I drove straight into town and
didn't stop until I hit the

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service station.
My TPS showed I'd only been a

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mile and 1/2 from Devil's
Hollow, but the trail didn't

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exist on the map anymore.
It just ended.

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A week later I went to clean my
gear.

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My boots were caked in dust
except from one streak of dark,

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oily residue across the heel.
It looked like the same stuff

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from that handprint on the rock,
and it smelled the same.

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I threw them out that night and
I haven't hiked alone there

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since.
The Lights of a Lubin by Marek

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Novak, Poland, 2019 I grew up in
a small town in southwestern

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Poland called Lubin.
It's a quiet place, long

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stretches of forest, open
fields, and skies that always

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seem too wide at night.
People here talk about strange

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lights every few years, but it's
the kind of thing you brush off.

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Planes, drones, weather
balloons, whatever makes you

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sleep better at night.
In the summer of 2019, I decided

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to camp out in the forest east
of town.

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My brother had given me a new
camera for my birthday, and I

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wanted to try some night
photography.

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There's almost no light
pollution out there, just dark

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pine woods that stretches for
miles.

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I parked my car at the edge of
the dirt track and hiked about

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two kilometres in and set up a
small camp near a clearing.

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It was early evening, around
9:00.

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The sun was just dipping behind
the tree line as the air had

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that heavy electric stillness
that comes before a storm.

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I built a small fire and took a
few pictures of the sunset and

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waited for the stars.
The forest was quiet.

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Too quiet actually.
Normally you'd hear owls or the

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hum of insects, but that night
there was nothing, just wind

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moving through the trees.
By midnight the sky had gone

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completely black, and that's
when I noticed the first light.

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It wasn't a star.
It was low, moving slowly above

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the trees, almost hovering.
At first I thought it was a

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helicopter, but it didn't make a
sound.

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It just glided silently, like it
was watching.

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I took out my camera and zoomed
in.

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The lens picked up three smaller
lights beneath the main one,

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forming a perfect triangle.
They weren't flickering.

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They pulsed like something
alive.

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Then the trees around me started
to glow.

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Faint at first, then bright
enough to throw shadows across

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the ground.
My camera screen went white for

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a moment, and then black, and
then died.

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I tried my phone, nothing.
Completely unresponsive.

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Dead.
The air fell thick, charged like

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the air before a lightning
strike.

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That's when I heard it.
A low vibrating hum that you

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could feel more than here.
It made the inside of my chest

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buzz.
The light sank lower until I

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could see the outline of
something behind it, a dark

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shape, like a disc turning
slowly above the treetops.

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I should have run, but I didn't.
I just stood there and froze,

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watching.
The light shifted colour from

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white to deep bluish green, and
then a column of the same light

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dropped straight down into the
clearing.

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It was perfectly still, like a
bean cut from glass.

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Inside it, the air looked
wrapped, like heat waves on

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asphalt.
The hum got louder.

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My ears started ringing, every
hair on my arm stood up, and

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then from the corner of my eye I
saw movement figures just at the

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edge of the beam.
Not people, and not solid

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either, more like silhouettes
made of fog and light,

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flickering in and out of shape.
They didn't walk, they drifted,

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turning towards me in slow,
perfect unison.

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I stumbled back and tripped over
my pack and fell hard onto the

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dirt.
For a second I thought they were

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coming closer, but instead the
beam snapped upwards and the

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light banished.
And then silence.

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Pure, absolute silence.
Then a second layer.

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The trees let out this long
heavy Creek, like the whole

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forest just exhaled.
The only sound after that was

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the crackle of my dying
campfire.

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I packed up everything I could
and left.

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I didn't look back.
I reached my car around 4:00 in

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the morning and sat there for
almost an hour before driving

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home.
When I got back, I checked my

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phone, still dead.
The camera turned on, but every

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photo was gone except one.
It was completely black except

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from three small dots of light,
perfectly triangle.

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Two days later I went back with
my brother.

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In the daylight, the clearing
looked normal, except the grass

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and the wide circle had turned
grey, as if burned, but not by

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heat.
The soil underneath was dry and

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powdery, like ash.
I didn't tell anyone for a

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while, but a few weeks later a
friend who lives near the edge

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of the forest messaged me late
one night.

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He said there was lights over
the trees again.

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Same colour, the same shape, but
this time there was 2 sets

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moving in perfect formation.
He sent me a picture before they

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disappeared behind the clouds, 3
green lights forming a triangle

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and one bright white orb
floating above them.

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He asked me what I thought they
were.

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I told him honestly, I don't
know, but I can still feel that

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vibration sometimes deep in my
chest when the night's too

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still, like the forest is
waiting for something to come

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back.
If you're enjoying tonight's

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stories, make sure you follow
The Latent Files on your podcast

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00:12:18,120 --> 00:12:20,280
Out of Choice and leave us a
quick review.

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00:12:20,280 --> 00:12:23,440
It helps more people discover
the show and keeps these strange

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00:12:23,440 --> 00:12:26,320
encounters coming every week.
Let's get back to the stories.

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The Thing on Simon's Side by Ben
Northumberland, 2022 I've lived

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in Northumberland all my life.
I was born in Arnwick, now

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living near Rothbury.
Anyone from around here knows

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about the Simon's Side hills,
Long open Moor land that looks

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peaceful from a distance but can
turn strange fast when the

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weather changes.
People around here talk about

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the lights on those hills, small
lanterns that appear in the fog

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and lead walkers off the path.
My dad used to say if you ever

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see a light up there moving on
its own, don't follow its own.

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In early 2022, I went hiking
there on my own.

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I started from the car park near
assignment side and followed the

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trail along the hilltop and
planned to head back before it

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got dark.
The sky was clear when I set

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off, but later that evening a
thick mist began to move across

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the hills.
About halfway along the trail, I

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saw someone up ahead, a tall
figure standing still on the

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path, wearing what looked like a
dark coat.

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I waved, but they didn't move,
and when I got closer, maybe 50

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yards away, they stepped off the
trail and disappeared into the

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fog.
No sound or footsteps, just

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gone.
I stood there for a moment,

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trying to see where they went,
but the mist was thick.

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00:14:01,360 --> 00:14:05,440
And that's when I heard it.
A slow, steady tapping sound on

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the rocks.
Tap, tap, tap.

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It stopped when I called out.
Then it started again, closer

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00:14:13,120 --> 00:14:16,800
this time.
I switched on my headlamp and

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00:14:16,800 --> 00:14:20,720
carried on walking, telling
myself it must be water dripping

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00:14:21,120 --> 00:14:25,400
or stones moving in the cold.
But a few minutes later, I saw

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00:14:25,400 --> 00:14:29,760
something move across the path.
Quick, smooth, and taller than

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any person I've ever seen.
It happened.

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Started again, but behind me
this time.

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I turned round, shining the
light towards the sound.

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00:14:39,280 --> 00:14:42,920
And there it was.
Something standing between two

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rocks, maybe 20 feet away.
Pale grey skin, thin arms, long

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fingers that are almost to its
knees.

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It's face was wrong, stretched
and smooth, with dark eyes, some

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deep into its skull.
It didn't move at first, it just

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tilted its head slightly,
watching me, then it stepped

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00:15:07,120 --> 00:15:11,040
back into the fog and vanished.
I ran straight down the trail

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00:15:11,200 --> 00:15:14,040
all the way to the car park and
when I reached my car I was

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panicking with fear.
I sat inside for a minute trying

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to calm down before I looked in
the mirror and across the back

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window were three long smear
marks in condensation, like like

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someone had dragged their
fingers through it.

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I wiped them away and started
the engine and drove home.

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A few days later I told my dad
what happened.

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He didn't laugh, he just said
they used to talk about things

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up there.
Small creatures that would lead

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travellers off the hills.
Maybe they're not small anymore.

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I haven't been back since, but
on cold nights when the fog

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comes down over the valley, I
swear I still hear it.

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That slow tapping sound
somewhere far off in the mist.

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The Bridge in the Woods by Sam
Derbyshire, 2018 Back in 2018 I

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00:16:16,720 --> 00:16:20,680
went walking with a couple of
mates in the Peak District.

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We planned a simple weekend
hike, just a trail that followed

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an old river path through the
woods near I AM.

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00:16:29,160 --> 00:16:32,720
It was late afternoon when we
came across a narrow, Moss

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00:16:32,720 --> 00:16:36,480
covered bridge.
It looked old, maybe Victorian,

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with a stream running quietly
underneath.

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The trail carried on across it,
but the trees on the far side

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were darker, like the light
couldn't get through.

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One of my friends joked that it
looked like something out of a

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ghost film.
We laughed and crossed over.

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And we kept walking.
About half a mile in, we found

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an old stone marker half buried
in dirt.

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00:17:02,960 --> 00:17:07,760
The letters were faded, but you
could still read 2 words.

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00:17:08,079 --> 00:17:12,599
Don't cross.
We turned around after that, but

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as we walked back towards the
bridge, the air felt heavier

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00:17:16,560 --> 00:17:19,760
still.
The kind of stillness that makes

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you feel watched.
When we reached the bridge

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00:17:22,560 --> 00:17:24,920
again, the stream had gone
quiet.

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00:17:24,920 --> 00:17:29,280
No sound of running water, no
wind, just silence.

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00:17:30,360 --> 00:17:33,680
My mate Paul crossed first.
Halfway over he stopped and

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said, Can you hear that?
At first I thought he was

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00:17:37,880 --> 00:17:44,240
joking, but then I heard it too.
A voice, faint but clear, come

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00:17:44,240 --> 00:17:47,120
from underneath the bridge.
It sounded like someone

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00:17:47,120 --> 00:17:50,080
whispering for help.
We froze still.

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00:17:50,920 --> 00:17:52,880
Then it came again, louder this
time.

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00:17:53,680 --> 00:17:57,040
Please help.
I leaned over the side with my

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00:17:57,040 --> 00:18:00,200
torch.
The light hit the water, but

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00:18:00,200 --> 00:18:03,560
there was no one there, just
black still surface.

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00:18:04,200 --> 00:18:08,480
Then something broke through.
A hand Pearl dripping with mud,

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00:18:08,880 --> 00:18:12,520
grabbed the edge of the bridge.
We ran straight down the trail,

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00:18:12,800 --> 00:18:15,840
no talking, no stopping.
I didn't even remember the run,

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00:18:16,560 --> 00:18:19,800
just the sound of boots and
branches snapping behind us.

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00:18:19,800 --> 00:18:23,480
But when we reached the car
park, we finally stopped and

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00:18:23,480 --> 00:18:25,960
looked back.
The path was empty.

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00:18:26,440 --> 00:18:28,720
The next morning we went back
with the park Ranger.

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00:18:29,160 --> 00:18:32,040
The bridge was the same as
before, but the stream

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00:18:32,040 --> 00:18:34,480
underneath was only a few inches
deep.

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00:18:35,400 --> 00:18:39,400
Nowhere for anyone to hide.
The Ranger looked at us and said

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00:18:39,400 --> 00:18:41,560
quietly.
You're not the first to hear

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00:18:41,560 --> 00:18:44,600
voices down there.
I didn't ask anything else, I

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00:18:44,600 --> 00:18:48,280
just nodded.
And from that day on, if I ever

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00:18:48,280 --> 00:18:52,520
see a bridge in the woods, I
take the long way around out

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00:18:52,520 --> 00:18:55,360
there.
The Wilds can feel endless open

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00:18:55,360 --> 00:18:59,480
skies, quiet trails, and the
comfort of being miles from

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00:18:59,480 --> 00:19:02,720
anyone else.
But the truth is, the wilderness

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00:19:02,720 --> 00:19:04,880
holds things we still don't
understand.

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00:19:05,040 --> 00:19:08,800
Strange lights in the trees.
Footsteps that follow when no

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00:19:08,800 --> 00:19:11,720
one's there.
Stories whispered by people who

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00:19:11,720 --> 00:19:14,080
went hiking and came back
different.

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00:19:14,600 --> 00:19:18,800
Whether it's the deserts of
Utah, the forests of Poland or

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00:19:18,800 --> 00:19:22,720
the hills of the Northeast, the
wild still keeps its secrets.

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00:19:23,160 --> 00:19:26,840
And maybe that's why we keep
going back, because some parts

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00:19:26,840 --> 00:19:30,080
of us want to know what's
waiting just beyond the path.

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00:19:30,520 --> 00:19:34,120
I'm Leon Leighton, and this has
been the Leighton Files.

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Thanks for listening.
And remember, stay curious and

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keep your light close.