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These Roads Lead... Where?

Part one

Part One – the start
summer 1973
I was weary. I’d been working long hours each day, starting at 7a.m. and at times not getting home until 2 a.m., only to report back to work at 7 a.m. again. It was taking its toll.
One day in June I decided that it was simply too much – too many hours, too little time with the family. I decided that it was time for a change. I felt I needed a good holiday, time to relax, time to be with the kids, time to eat proper meals with the family.
On the drive home I came up with a plan, so when I arrived I asked “who wants to go to British Columbia?” The wife was a little stunned but the kids were immediately all for it. BC as we call it, is Canada’s western-most province, about 3,000 miles from where we were.
“I do! I do!” said the youngest, then asked, “where is Birtish Clumbya dad?” The wife, after some consideration, decided that yes, she’d like to see the country too. We quickly made arrangements, putting belongings in storage, giving notice to the landlord of our rental house and to my employer.
We set out in late June on what was to be a glorious summer.
Along the way we stopped frequently, camping in beautiful areas, pausing to watch wildlife and pitching camp whenever someone took a notion they wanted to see more of an area. That happened frequently.
We watched the moon rising over lovely lakes, listened to the music of wolves howling, stopped to follow pronghorn antelope on the open prairies, sat in the midst of a prairie dog town watching these cute little creatures frolicking and standing about with their arms around each other, seemingly as curious about us as were of them.
For a month we dawdled along at a leisurely pace, taking time to see buffalo, porcupines, foxes, coyotes, bears, moose and whatever else we chanced upon, even skunks. We crossed the wide prairies and entered the foothills of Alberta and on into the Rocky Mountains range, camping beside turquoise lakes, watching marmots, mountain goats, Dahl sheep, huge elk, then crossed several more mountain ranges to the interior of British Columbia, into the intense summer heat of the Okanagan Valley where we feasted on the great variety of fruits grown there. Then it was on to the coast at Vancouver where we caught the ferry for Vancouver Island.
Vancouver Island, the largest Island on the west coast of America, was fascinating – long, deserted sandy beaches, enormous giant trees, and a great variety of wildlife including bright green slugs about six inches in length. And blacktail deer, hoards of them. It is also home to the Kwakiutl Indian nation, people who carve huge monumental “totem” poles and great sea-going canoes of 60 feet or more, each from a single tree. They also carve beautiful and fantastic ceremonial masks and many other items. We spent a full month exploring the island, but by early September, it was time to go, to find another job.
I made a few calls and lined up work in Ontario, so sun-tanned and contented, we caught the ferry for the mainland and embarked on the week-long drive to Ontario.
The job, which was in the Kitchener area, went well. We rented a farmhouse in a rural area close to the city but not so close that the clamour of the city reached us. Next spring we planted a huge garden, got several bee-hives, a small flock of chickens. With those and the apple and cherry trees, we lived well. We made some fine friends and almost every weekend a crowd would gather in our huge kitchen with the table that sat more than a dozen, or on the wide porch that stretched the width of the house. People brought their kids and instruments and there was music and dancing aplenty.
As is my habit, I also began to explore the hardwood forests surrounding us, noting the bird species and the animals that inhabited these quiet shady tracts. Contentment reigned.
(An aside: last year I visited this same area: since we were first there the city has undergone explosive growth, and only a few remnants of the hardwood forest remain.)
By early summer of the following year my wanderings on free days were taking me further and further, sometimes alone but often in the company of a friend I’d made who had a similar interest. We passed some fine days. It was all a pleasant life. But for me. at least, it was about to change.
Late one afternoon, at a location about 20 miles from home, I came across a narrow gravel road running off the main road and into a forest, one that I hadn’t previously noticed. I parked the car and with binoculars in hand, strolled off down the road. I was rewarded with the sight of variety of birds. In the distance I could hear the knock of a woodpecker so I continued on, and sure enough, discovered a pileated woodpecker, the largest of the woodpeckers in Canada. I was pleased.
It was now twilight and I thought “I’ll just go a little further and then turn back and head for home.”
A short time later I came to a tall chain-link fence with a double gate across the road. Perched in a tree to the right of the gate, was a great horned owl, a rare sight.
The owl and I were studying each other when it suddenly swivelled its head. As a reflex I also turned to possibly see what had attracted its attention. It was growing dark but nonetheless I could clearly see why it had reacted.
There, to my great surprise, to the left of the gate, stood a petite young woman in a white dress. It caught me completely off guard, but I waved hello, whereupon she began to motion to me toward her, which I did.
Before I could get a word out, she said quietly, “Come, I’ll show you something.”
My curiosity aroused, I followed her through brush for perhaps 50 feet to a corner of the fence. She rounded the corner and climbed down to a depression that left a gap under the fence and crouching down, ducked under and entered the fenced off area. I stopped at the depression and told her, no, I wouldn’t enter. That would be trespassing, and I had no intention of being accused of that.
“It’s alright. No-one will bother you” she said, and strode off toward a building some`150 feet away.
I thought to myself, “well, if she can do it, then so can I,” and climbed through the opening. I followed her to a doorway in the building, which she opened and we entered. To my surprise, the building, which had appeared deserted, was actually occupied.
The people inside, who I noted had sort of Oriental features, were dressed in light blue coveralls. At this point I thought “peculiar that they’d have a round room in a rectangular building.” Several were seated on benches around the perimeter of the room while others were strolling in or out of a long corridor to my left. None seem to pay any attention to us, as though visitors were quite normal.
As I pondered what this building might be, a tall middle-aged fellow with occidental features and pure white hair approached us. The girl, obviously well acquainted with this fellow, (I thought he might be her father) said to him, “show him the ……….” I didn’t quite hear, or perhaps couldn’t understand what she was asking him to show me. Without a word, he strode off, went through a door and in less than a minute was back, whereupon he handed me a mechanical device.
Having worked a fair amount on cars, I said “oh, an alternator” and handed it back to him. Maybe that’s what this building is about, manufacturing alternators, I thought.
For those who may not be familiar with automotive parts, an alternator is a device that produces the electricity with which a vehicle functions. They are round with a more or less flattened front and back and have a rotating shaft through the center.
“No, it’s not that,” she said, whereupon he again handed me the device. I gave it another examination, twirled the shaft, which kept spinning for a remarkably long time until I stopped it. To me it still resembled nothing but an alternator. I handed it back to him and in an attempt at being polite said something mundane like “Hmmm. Interesting.”
It was growing late so I told them I really had to go, my dinner would be cold and I wanted to spend some time with the family. The girl accompanied me back through the opening under the fence and when we reached the road, I said goodbye, thanked her for the tour and headed back along the road to my car.
It was late when I got home. My dinner was indeed cold and the wife asked why I was so late. I could only mumble that I’d been bird watching and saw an owl at dusk. She was accustomed to my jaunts and to me getting interested enough in something to lose track of time.
A couple of weeks later I set out to explore a different area, one near a major river. Again it was late afternoon. I quietly ambled through a clearing in the woods, enjoying the warm day and the sounds and odours of the forest. I sat for a while and watched a small herd of deer. Just as I had decided to continue along, I realized that standing off to my right was the same young woman as before. It isn’t all that unusual to encounter other people, but I’d never met anyone before that wore a white dress into the woods.
I thought it truly a striking coincidence that we should find ourselves again at the same location at the same time. We exchanged greetings whereupon she asked if would I like to see something interesting.
“Certainly,” I replied and jokingly asked “is this another building?”
She assured me it was not and then led me along a narrow trail and about 15 or 20 minutes later we emerged into a large clearing and started across it. I was thinking that this girl really knew the country.
At the far edge of the clearing was a group of native guys sitting around a fire, chatting and drinking, perhaps coffee or tea. As we passed them I greeted them but not one turned to acknowledge my greeting.
“Hmm. Pretty unsociable” I thought.
A little further along the field ended in an embankment. From the top of this I could see water flowing from my right to left, and on the far side thick woods. When we had descended the banks, the young lady led me to the right and stopped at an area of bare rock. She pointed to something in the rock at her feet and when I neared her I saw what I realized was a pretty remarkable carving in the rock.
There before me was the figure of a person lying with the head in the direction of the water. There are areas all across Canada and the US where rock carvings can be found, but this one was remarkable in that, unlike others I’d seen, it was not merely an outline, but a full figure with the body and limbs indented in the rock.
It was as though someone had lain in soft sand and left a deep three-dimensional impression of their body. But this was solid rock. The impression was partly filled with water, otherwise I might have tried to lay in it to get an idea of the size compared to me. It seemed though to be smaller than me. I could only speculate that this must have taken someone a lot of time and a lot of perseverance to carve.
After I’d marvelled at this sight for a few minutes the girl said she had to get back, though she didn’t mention where she had to get back to. We climbed back up the bank and started out across the field, again passing close to the Indian lads, who again completely ignored us.
We retraced our path through the woods and when we reached the roadway I thanked her for showing me this surprising carving and we parted ways in opposite directions. What was in the other direction I had no idea. I was a little surprised at this point to realize it was growing dark while on the other side of the bush it had been brighter, but thought nothing more of it. Again I retraced my steps to my car and drove home.
About a week and half later when I left work I knew there would be no-one at home at this time, so I decided to take another little wander, to explore another area.
I was in the habit of keeping my gear, binoculars, knife etc. in my car so I left directly for the area I wanted to see, which was about a half-hour drive. I’d passed this spot previously but hadn’t had the time then to spare.
When I arrived at my destination I again left the car on a side-road and proceeded along at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine and the flowering plants. After perhaps a half-mile the road turned from gravel to fine sand, much easier to walk on, and creating less noise.
I had not gone far when I rounded a bend and to my astonishment, the girl in white was sitting by the side of the road!. She stood up when I approached and I noticed that her feet were bare. I remarked that I was very surprised but also pleased to find her in the same place as I was once again.
“Come for a walk with me” she said, and again led the way. A short distance down the road she turned to her right and entered the bush.
“Don’t you think you should put shoes on,” I said. “You could hurt your feet walking through here like that.”
“I’ll be fine” was her reply.
A few minutes later we came upon quite an amazing site. At least it was to me. Here in a swath perhaps a hundred feet wide and stretching left and right some distance, was a forest of miniature trees! They were obviously fully grown but ranged from only about a foot to perhaps four feet. None were as tall as me.
“Wow!” I said “thank you showing me this!” I had long admired Japanese Bonsai, trees that are cultivated in miniature, and here I was in the midst of a forest of them!
“Oh no,” she said,” this isn’t what I was going to show you. It’s a little way yet.”
Reluctantly I followed along, entering a growth of normal-sized trees, until we emerged once again. .
The sight I beheld was totally unexpected. Before me was a small hillock with patches of bare rock. To my left stood a tall metal pole and beyond the low hill was……… a trailer park. (If you’re unfamiliar with the term -I don’t know if these are common in other countries - a trailer park consists of a group of mobile homes in which people live on a permanent basis.)
Where we emerged was at a corner of a road. Directly across the road was one unit laid out lengthwise toward me. To its right were two more, while on left of the first one, others were at right angles to it. On the roadway a group of children were playing.
I started toward the road, but the young woman, who was hiding behind the little hill whispered loudly – and obviously anxiously – “No, we can’t do that!” I was a little taken aback at this, but she insisted that we leave immediately.
I was disappointed that we’d come here for nothing more interesting than a trailer park, and hadn’t taken the time to examine what I thought was far more interesting, the mini-trees.
Without pausing she led the way back to the road, straight through the remarkable trees without even a glance. When at the road she announced abruptly that she must leave, and immediately set off down the road. I lingered for a few minutes before going, shaking my head at the strange reaction she’d had.
“Ah, well,” I told myself, “another day I’ll come back and take my time, maybe bring a camera.”
And off I went, back to my car and home..
A short time later my friend with the same exploring urge as myself showed up on a Saturday morning. What were my plans for the day, he asked.
“Well, once my chores are done I’m pretty well free for the day” I told him.
He had in mind, he said, that we take my canoe and cruise down a section of river, which I agreed that on such a fine day was a fine idea. When I was done, we set off for the river with the canoe on the roof of my car.
On the way I said, “speaking of the river, have you ever seen the native rock carving?” (That it been carved out by a native was an assumption on my part) Though he’d lived in the area for years, he’d never heard of it, so at my suggestion we changed plans slightly and I drove off in the direction of where I’d seen it.
Well, we arrived at the spot, but to my surprise, there was no road.
“Gee, I must be mistaken. I thought it was here, but maybe it’s further along” I said.
So we went further, and then further, but no such road could I find. Finally I gave up the search in frustration: this had never happened before. Of course, he took advantage of the situation to tease me.
“Some bushwhacker you are! Can’t find your way even with a highway!”
I did my best to deflect his good-natured jibes, but inside I was confused. I always found my way back.
Over the next few weeks, I set out many times, determined to find this place, but I never did, though my search became ever-widening.
I even began to rationalize that perhaps it was closer to the area where I’d been shown the “alternator,” but I couldn’t locate that spot either. I searched for the area where I’d seen the “bonsai” trees, but again with no success.
I started to become obsessive about it all until I was travelling further and further away. I was determined. The wife was beginning to be concerned about these long unexplained absences. I kept it all to myself, never revealing what was happening with me. I couldn’t explain it to her. I believed she’d think I’d lost my mind. I was even beginning to suspect that might be the case.
Then one day I realized that in my determination to prove to myself I could find these sites, I’d extended my search almost a hundred miles in all directions and said to myself “this is sheer madness” and I stopped searching. Kind of.
To be continued….
 
Fascinating! It's almost as though you moved between dimensions, and this young woman was there to guide you. Very odd that she was always turning up in such obscure places...
 
Interesting, but big blocks of text are not easy to read on screen.

Some line breaks between paragraphs would help, and/or perhaps some sub-headings in bold. These act as reference points, and the reader can easily pick up his place again if he's been distracted by something.
 
backinthebush, thinking again about your account reminded me very much of various elements in stories of alien abductions. There are some things that seem familiar.
 
its a good read but im struggling a little with the girl in white ... you dont really say much about her yet she is central to each of the events

be good if you could paste over your "just muddlin through" post with your intro post on the transdimensional gas station thread too
 
I am really enjoying this, and am intrigued. Looking forward to more. Thank-you, BackintheBush!
 
HenryFort said:
be good if you could paste over your "just muddlin through" post with your intro post on the transdimensional gas station thread too
Click to expand...

I agree - or maybe a host could do it for him?

I'm really enjoying this story and look forward to further installments!
 
This is a really interesting thread.

I have to say that there are a lot of features in this that match very closely those that are correlated with so-called alien/UFO abduction.

It seems to start with an owl, which is a very famous element of 'screen memories', and seeing oriental looking people in uniform could not be a more common feature to UFO encounters. They even have a round room! As for entering a building and looking at an alternator, that seems like another screen memory too. Having some communication with a slightly other-worldly being such as the woman in the white dress is similar to many stories I've heard where someone's basically tempted away to meet the 'crew' of the UFO.

Now I don't really buy into the literal view of people being abducted by aliens, but this thread has some very, very clear parallels with whatever the experience of 'abduction' really is.

There's a lot of very relevant information on this bloghttp://hiddenexperience.blogspot.co.uk/

There's also very good podcast that goes alongside this blog.
 
well so far it stacks up in the re-read stakes ... and not so many do these days
 
Thank you for the encouragement to continue this tale. I was quite concerned that It would be viewed as boring.

As to "abduction," I must say that I went with the young lady quite willingly.

Re: the suggestion to visit the blog site - the link included did not work. I would very much liked to have perused it.

Re: Just Muddlin' Through: I was attempting to include it as a little note on my posts such as other posters have done. Obviously made a muddle in that.

Re: Large blocks on the screen, I did put spaces on the original but apparently that didn't work. I'll try another way.

Finally re: the young woman in the white dress. The best I can think to do is give a description as best I can.

She appeared quite young, perhaps 20 years of age (I'm not really good at judging women's ages I must add) very light, almost white, blonde hair about shoulder length, very petite (I'm six feet tall and she reached only about my shoulders), and slim. I can't remember eye colour I'm afraid. Pleasant, regular features though not strikingly beautiful. Sort of Scandinavian appearance I would say. Sorry I can't do any better. I don't have the vocabulary to describe the dress style.

I've been quite diligently tapping out the second part of the tale, and it's become very lengthy as well. I believe it will require a third and perhaps even a fourth instalment to complete. Not to mention I am excrutiatingly slow at typing.

regards and thank you for your patience. Hopefully this will appear with paragraph spacing this time.
 
Wow, this is a fantastic story, and quite beautifully-written. It's rare to get such a well-written piece and it's a joy to read. (The formatting didn't bother me as much as it bothered some, as there are some paragraph breaks, and it's not quite the unbroken "wall of text" that you often see.) It's definitely not boring and I find myself eagerly awaiting the next installment. Backinthebush, are you a writer?

I had a few questions about the first part that came up while reading the piece:

Why did you go with the young lady in the first place? I probably wouldn't have gone off in the woods with a stranger, but then I'm a woman. The situation is quite different for a man, also because you mention that you were much larger than her as well, and I doubt you perceived her as a threat. That said, it would still seem weird to me to wander off in the woods with someone I'd just met. Did it seem odd to you or did it seem the natural thing to do? Was there something about her that made you trust her or like her?

What did you talk about, or did you talk at all, during the time it would take you to walk to each of the locations? You mention it took a while in each case. Did the woman make natural conversation with you or was there awkward silence, or what? Did you ask her any questions about herself or where she came from or why she was showing you these things?

You mention her looks but what about the type of personality she seemed to have?

In the area you speak of in Ontario, is there an Indian Reservation or settlement that you know of?

As a side note, I am also from Ontario but a very urban area. That said I grew up with a survivalist father and have spent a great deal of time in the bush in both Ontario and BC. I can wholeheartedly attest to the sense of wildness and ancient emptiness that comes in a place where there are no signs of humans and likely never were.

It's quite a different sensation than being in a place where humans have been settled and have had a strong presence for hundreds or thousands of years, such as much of Europe and Asia. Some people find that sensation of the absence of human presence quite unsettling. I find it comforting myself, but will agree that it's eerie as it puts into perspective how insignificant and temporary human life is, in the same way peering through a telescope does.

The presence of humans also seems to drown out the sensations of other types of intelligence, whereas being in a wild place with no people allows you to feel the hum and throb of other types of life and beings. Animals, plants, even the earth have their own type of intelligence and you can definitely feel it and even breathe it, for want of a better word. You can align yourself with it.
 
In response to Pinlight_Duke:

After reading your posting I realized that I never asked the young woman for her name, something I always do when I first meet a person. Very odd in restrospect that I didn’t.

I’ll attempt to answer your questions as best I can.

Did we converse as we walked? No, but that’s the norm for myself and my friends while we make our way through the bush. We’ll travel for many miles without a word, or fish or hunt in silence for hours at time. (Actually I gave up hunting years ago – I “hunt” with my wallet at a grocery store now) Anyone with a tendency to talk a lot was unlikely to accompany us again. The talkers were generally folks from cities. (No offense to city-dwellers intended.) We like to be able to hear what’s going on around us.
At home, on the other hand, we tend to be rather loud and gregarious. Silence is not awkward in the bush.

I never did ask where she was from or why she was showing me things. That’s not unusual either. There have been a number of instances where I’ve met people on my rambles and gone off with them to places of interest, maybe a good fishing spot, an unusual geological feature. In fact that’s how I met a fellow with whom I became very close friends. And still am. I tend to trust folks until proven otherwise, and there have been a couple of examples of that as well. Besides, I’m always up for a new adventure.

There is a reserve about 40 miles away (which I also toured since my mother was from that area). That said, the area was once populated by a tribe they call the Neutrals. I learned that from an archaeologist who was on a dig at the site of a former village from a couple hundred years ago. They were apparently either chased out of the area (or exterminated) by raiders from the Iroquois Confederacy. I can believe that because I heard tales when I was young of the Iroquois raiding and killing Cree and Ojibway people as far north as our area many years before, likely in the 1700s.

I like how you described how it feels in the last three paragraphs of your posting and how it can put things in perspective. I see us as specks on a speck drifting in an incredible endless cosmos when I lay in the dark out there watching the spectacular Milky Way. Makes most of those everyday concerns evaporate. This speck none the less is pretty important to us.

Am I a writer? That’s a little complicated to answer. The straight answer is no, I’m a tradesman. On the other hand I have written things through the years on a number of subjects and have had things published. Much of it has been about concerns I had when I discovered things on my travels. The last one was on the deteriorating state of a great river in Alberta, but that was almost 10 years back.

Lately I’ve been engrossed in what I view as the greatest dilemma ever to face this wonderous planet of ours, nuclear power stations. I first became curious about this while working in one where I spent a year on repairing equipment. The deeper I delved into learning about it the more concerned I became, until about three years ago I’d learned enough that for the first time since I was very young, I was frightened. I’ve since gotten over that. Now I’m just angry about it.

I’ve had some very narrow – and I mean very narrow – escapes from being killed during my lifetime, but they didn’t frighten me. I was certainly relieved I wasn’t killed, but wasn’t scared by them, mostly I guess because they happened so fast.

It’s my hope to be able – God willing – to produce, perhaps, a book detailing in language that anyone can understand, just how insidious and deadly the potential for eradicating much of the life on our planet this industry REALLY holds, despite assurances to the contrary by governments and interested parties.

I’m not one to see hidden conspiracies at every turn, but this one is without doubt such a situation. The material is all there for someone tenacious enough to bulldoze their way through the mass of BS. At present I’m merely another voice crying in the wilderness, so to speak. Sorry to go off on a bit of a rant there.

Now, a question in return if I may? Do you still live in Ontario, and which areas of Ontario and BC did you travel through. Okay, that’s actually two questions, but I do hope you’ll respond. My thanks for your uplifting comments.

PS. If anyone else is interested in the nuclear power situation, beyond what the media carries regarding Fukushima etc., I’d be happy to hear from you.
 
backinthebush said:
As to "abduction," I must say that I went with the young lady quite willingly.

Re: the suggestion to visit the blog site - the link included did not work. I would very much liked to have perused it.
Click to expand...

I managed to post a damaged link. Here's the proper location: http://hiddenexperience.blogspot.co.uk/

There's an article on the left of the page about owls that you might find interesting.

I use the term 'abduction' very loosely - more like an interaction with other non-human intelligences. These may or may not have an intricate link to human nature.

Your interest in nuclear issues is very, very common in those that have had UFO/"alien" experiences. As I mentioned, I don't believe that the we are talking about little green men from another planet although that's the most common view of things. Things are way, way more complex than that.
 
First of all, thank you to giantrobot for forwarding that link. It worked this time, but I didn’t read too much of it and will explore it more later.

Well, I’ve completed the second part, so here goes….

As time passed, no matter how I tried, I still couldn’t get these things out of my mind. I brooded on it. Relations in our family began to deteriorate. My wife and I began to have arguments. She suspected I was having an extramarital affair.

Looking back from my vantage point of experience, I’ve come see this as a life lesson on the destructive power of keeping secrets from a partner in the intimate relationship of a marriage.

I suppose it was avoidance of a bad situation that finally led me to accept a job in a town nearly 500 miles away. Every couple of weeks I’d leave the job site late on Friday for the 12-hour drive home, then Sunday night I’d make the return trip and arrive on time for work Monday. It was gruelling, but I thought it important to see the children on a regular basis. I’d leave after they were asleep Sunday evening and arrive in time for work.

One winter night on the return trip a peculiar thing happened. At about five in the morning I stopped at an all-night restaurant in a small town. I sat and had a coffee and took a short walk in the cold air before hitting the highway again.

After a few miles it began to snow heavily but I kept going, following the blurred red tail-lights of a large truck I’d caught up to. As the snowfall increased the view of the highway decreased. At length the flurry became almost hypnotic, so I pulled to the side of the road for a short walk to clear my head.

When I stepped out, however, I discovered to my surprise that there was no snow, and although the highway was straight for a long distance, there was no sign of any truck. I thought, “now that’s really strange!” Not an earth shaking event by any measure but it did shake me somewhat. Maybe I was crazy after all.

I continued this exhausting schedule through the winter, until one morning on my return the wife announced that she wanted a divorce. I couldn’t in honesty blame her. Our life of contentment had fallen to the depths of dissatisfaction and despair. And the blame lay solely on my shoulders.

In what I can only view now as an act of shameless escapism, I called a friend who had previously offered me a job in northern Alberta and asked if the offer was still open. It was, so I quit the job I had, packed the car and once again headed west.

After a time we filed for divorce. About a year later I met a statuesque, intelligent and accomplished divorcee and we shortly after were constant companions. She enjoyed trips into the wilds as well.

I probably shouldn’t tell this but I will anyway. Late one night we were deep in the bush after an afternoon of watching beavers repairing a dam. We found ourselves in an amorous mood and parked in a rough little side road. Things were progressing very satisfactorily when all of a sudden a bright light flooded the cab of the truck. To say it was a surprise is a vast understatement. We were, as the saying goes, “a mile and a half from nowhere.”

We couldn’t see who it was behind the light so I said loudly – and very indignantly - “who are you and what the hell do you want?”

The reply was “I’m a game warden. Do you have any firearms with you?”

“No!” I said, but my lady, laughing uproariously, shouted back “Yes, but not the kind you’re looking for!”

The job I was on held many hazards and in the four years I worked there I had several very close calls that could easily have resulted in death. Despite the high wages I was earning, the site was just too dangerous. Shortly after a huge explosion levelled a good portion of the plant, melting steel girders so they looked like limp, over-cooked spaghetti, I decided to leave. Money can’t buy your life back. Fortunately there were no casualties in the blast. All the workers were in a building at some distance on coffee break.

My lady friend wanted to continue our relationship and told me she’d go with me if I would like. I had no idea where I would go. She suggested moving to a remote area of British Columbia. We agreed that she’d go ahead with the car and I’d follow with the truck and camper when everything was wrapped up in Alberta.

She left in September and settled in a small town on the north coast where I’d never been, rented an apartment and in a short time got a job.

In October I quit my job and headed for the west coast. I stopped for few hours in Edmonton and in the afternoon, climbed into the camper and slept until 10.30 p.m. A half hour later I left Edmonton for the 800 mile journey to the town she’d chosen.

I drove for almost six hours and reached the village of McBride just before 5 a.m. I fuelled up and departed for Prince George about 125 miles further on, at most a two- hour drive. Prince George was roughly the half-way point of the trip and I planned to stay overnight with a friend.

About another hour out of McBride I was feeling stiff and in need of a break so I pulled into a roadside rest area, took a walk and made coffee in the camper. Then, with a mug of coffee in hand, away I went, anticipating that I’d reach Prince George sometime around 7 a.m. I kept driving and it was some time after daybreak when I spotted a small restaurant and decided I’d stop for breakfast, so I pulled in.

When the waitress came to the table I ordered bacon and eggs, but she said “I’m sorry sir but we don’t serve breakfast after noon.”

I thought to myself, ”this waitress has some sense of humour” and I chuckled a little and repeated the order. She only repeated what she’d said about no breakfast after noon.

“Well”, I said, “you must have one funny watch,” at which she pointed to a clock on the wall that read 12.30. I thought the clock must be wrong and turned to another customer and asked to see his watch. It confirmed the time as 12.30. I was stunned. Roughly five hours had vanished and I could not conceive how it happened. An hour difference I could imagine, but not five hours. I could only think “what the hell happened?!”

I reached Prince George by about 2 p.m. after having lunch rather than breakfast that “morning.”

The rest of the journey, thankfully, held no other surprises. Instead, as I neared the coast I was treated to the sight of tall mountains with frequent waterfalls dropping more than a thousand feet to the valley, and many bald eagles soaring the skies.

Shortly after my arrival I found work as an ironworker at a sawmill construction site. On weekends we toured the country, visiting many Indian villages to see the tall totem poles. We travelled rough roads through the bush to majestic fjords, went fishing with friends we’d made, had crab feasts and salmon feasts and relished the plentiful seafood.

Satisfaction had returned to my life. I’d put aside my obsession and was getting on with life.

One day as we explored we came into a village and drove around just for the enjoyment. It was a small community of approximately 700, with a sheltered harbour and dozens of fishing boats tied to the wharves, and a picturesque view of the islands strewn across this area of the Pacific. Although we were living less than 20 miles from it, prior to that we’d never taken the road leading to it.

We cruised the waterfront area and after climbing a steep hill, we entered an area with normal houses on one side of the street, while the other side was lined with mobile homes and we turned into a road running through it.

As we neared a corner my gal was surprised when I suddenly shouted “Stop the car! Stop right here!” I jumped out of the car and quickly crossed the street. which was at the edge of a forest. Climbing a small hill on the side opposite the homes, I turned to look back.

Yes! There on my left stood a tall steel pole. In front of me a mobile was oriented toward me, while next to it were others at right angles. Children were playing in the street. As I stood there in awe, I could only exclaim “My Lord! This is it! This is the mobile park the young woman in white brought me to!” I was thunderstruck.

Meanwhile, my gal had gotten out of the car and came across the street with an anxious look on her face.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” she asked.

I could only assure her happily that “nothing is wrong, but I think something is very right.” It was at that point I noticed the “for sale” sign in front of the mobile at the corner directly across from me.

“I’m going to buy that place” I announced, and I copied the phone number from the sign. Then something else occurred to me.

“Come on,” I said to her and we got back in the car. Behind the wheel I drove to the end of the street we had turned off, and there was a road with a surface of fine sand. I jumped out of the vehicle and asked her to drive back to where we had just been and wait for me.

Then off I went down the sandy road. Shortly I came to where – if it hadn’t just been a hallucination or some such after all – the young lady in white had led me off the road. I was quite excited but also gripped with trepidation as I set out into that bush.

But I was much more excited when I came to the break where there in front of me was a forest of miniature trees. I was almost running as I crossed it, went through a section of normal-sized trees and emerged in the exact spot where I had been standing only minutes before.

I had quite by accident discovered the mobile park I’d seen more than 13 years before and more than 3,000 miles away.

The next day I called the real estate agent and made the arrangements to buy that property.

To be continued…….
 
Serendipidy...and aliens :lol: . Great story. I second the whole "alien abduction" theory and the owl image also struck me straight away as something which comes up often in those stories. I think Whitley Streiber being one of the more famous "abductees" to recall seeing an owl before his visitations.

Also, a not so amusing and rather depressing take on Fukushima clearup operation and it's possible ramifications, which I had the misfortune to read earlier today;

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/blogs/daily-bu ... 22191.html
 
I'm loving this story backinthebush. Can I just ask what year it was that you re-discovered this mobile park?
 
Ooops! I hit the button before I meant to in the previous post.
I meant to add that when I first mentioned the years that had passed, I hadn't really sat down and calculated it but knew it was (at least) 13 years. When I did the math this morning I realized that it had been longer. Sorry. Time goes too fast and memory at times isn't all it should be.
 
Part three
When we were shown the mobile the following week I could see that my lady, whom I shall henceforth, if necessary, refer to by the initial M, was not terribly impressed. Actually, neither was I, but I had some inkling that something, perhaps something significant, might happen if I were there.

However, without the slightest hesitation she agreed to the arrangement. Where I was, she was willing to be as well.

It was a rather small abode compared to the apartment we were living in – the whole mobile could almost have fit in the large living room of the apartment. But she never complained.

A month or so later we took possession and made moving day a kind of party, with the women preparing a feast and our male friends loading and unloading the trucks. It was a grand time though the surrounding s were modest. At least now we had our own yard and a good sized deck for the frequent barbecues we had.

A year passed swiftly. Our neighbours were fine and sociable people and friends from town came out often for what they’d nicknamed a “turkeydrop.”

The name came about because of my ineptness when removing a turkey from the oven at our first dinner there. I tilted the pan too much trying to hold it with one hand while shutting the oven door - and the turkey jumped from the pan onto the floor and splattered turkey - and (it seemed to me) at least 30 gallons of turkey juice or whatever it’s called, onto the floor. Heck of a mess.

If that had happened only once it likely would have been forgotten, but then I did again the next time with a big ham. A roast of beef followed. By then they’d morphed it into a ritual, more or less, so that at every dinner for years, there were shouts of “Drop the turkey!” and I’d have to splatter another meal to the floor at their insistence. (once it was sphagetti. Imagine!) Didn’t stop anyone from eating it and I made sure to sanitize the floor before every dinner we held. A Wild Bunch, them who live on the coast.

The year had passed and nothing of any note happened as I had expected it might, so when a big house on a hill in the village, with a great view, came up for sale, we bought that as well, and rented the mobile to a friend who’d come out from Ontario.

In the early summer of the following year – I’ve lost track now, but it I think it must have been 1991, I had a call from my daughter back East, asking if we had plenty of room because she intended to drive out to the coast for a visit. The new house had three large bedrooms, a huge dining-living room, an office, etc. so I told her of course, I’d be so happy to have her there.

About two weeks later when her car pulled into our drive I was just thrilled.
I hadn’t seen her for more than two years, since when she flew to Calgary and I met her at the airport, from where we departed for a month-long tour of the Western USA in my truck and camper, just the two of us .

The main reason for that journey was that I wanted to see where the wild swans that arrived in our area at the beginning of each winter nested and raised their young. I’d seen small flocks of them often during winter and had learned that unlike most birds, these ones flew north for winter and migrated south to Wyoming for summer. Go figure.

We’d had a marvellous time together, through Montana, South Dakota, Wyoming , North Dakota, Iowa Illinois, Michigan and then back to her home in Ontario.
Minutes after she arrived and I’d hugged her half to death, another car pulled into the drive, a handsome young man at the wheel. This was her sweet-heart, who had followed her that whole distance.

They stayed with us for several weeks and we took them on tours of the area, showing them the sights, dining in the area seafood restaurants, fishing salmon, crabbing, on boat tours of the area and watched dolphins and otters and great rafts of sea-birds.

When their planned departure date arrived I was very sad to see them go, and we planned a big good-bye dinner, inviting all the folks they’d met, for a grand send-off. When I expressed how much I was I was going to miss her, she replied with a bright smile, that there was no need for sadness, they’d decided they were going to stay and make a life there. They really were enjoying it all much more than they did life in the city in Ontario.

I was over-joyed. That night M and I talked it over and decided we would give them the mobile to get them started.

And something significant did occur in that mobile sometime later, when my first grandchild was born there. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing I’d expected might happen, but I was overjoyed.

One of our “turkey-drop” friends had a little cabin in a quiet bay up the coast a way, and we would often go there to spend a relaxing day, trapping crabs for a big boil-up. There were several other cabins in the bay as well and I was approached by the owner of one of them, asking if I would be interested in buying it. My daughter was with me and said immediately “yes dad, let’s buy it!” And so we did.

We spent weekends in our cabin, going there as often as possible, remodelling it and making it comfortable for staying at times a week and more. It had no water and only an outhouse but we made due, bringing big jugs of water from home. I built a wood stove for it for heat and cooking and we had many cozy nights there, sometimes with a wild Pacific storm blasting in, making our own music, crabbing in the bay, wandering up to a nearby chain of lakes.

We got to know our neighbours, three single fellows and a couple who lived there most of the year. Any of our friends were welcome to use our cabin even if we weren’t there so long as they chopped firewood to replace what they used.

One of these neighbours, a rough-and-ready type and a good guy who’d been born and raised in the area and knew it intimately and with whom I became a close friend, came by one day when we were there.

He and I were on the deck sipping a brew when he said to me “say, have you ever been over to the village just a ways to the north?”

“Nope, never have.” I said.

“Well then, how about you and me and couple of brews take a little trip over there in my boat?” he said.

I was up to it of course, so I told the folks I was going off with L for a little boat cruise.

At the mouth of the bay he turned north and we were threading our way between a group of islands, when he said “heyyyy! I’ve got something you might find interesting,” and he steered toward shore after we passed another island. We beached the boat and he ambled over the rocks for a bit, before he stopped and yelled back “yah, here it is. Take a gander at this,” and pointed down at a flat the rock in front of him.

“Whaddya think of that?” he asked.

For a time I could hardly speak. Then I said something like “Holeee Shite!”
Yep, it was the figure of a person carved into the rock, just as I’d seen long before and far away.

I was thinking, “but that was on the shore of a river!” I was a little confused. That is, until I looked at the water, which was flowing past from my left to my right. Across from us was the thickly wooded shore of a large island. The tide was coming in, and if you had been standing there without any other references, and hadn’t tasted the salty water, you could easily mistake it for a river.

I turned around. Behind me was an earth embankment and I headed straight for it. When I reached the top I was looking out over a wide, level field beyond which thick bush grew.

He climbed the bank and said to me, “Aw, this is nothing. Years ago the folks from the village up ahead cleared it all off and used to grow their potatoes here. Nobody’s used it in years.”

Back at the figure in the rock I stared down and told him “this must have taken somebody ages to carve out.”

“Well,” he said, “the story with the natives in the village over there” and he pointed to his right,”is that sometime long ago, I don’t know how long, a young fellow from the village disappeared and was gone for four days or so. People looked all over for him, searched the beach and in the bush and spent days looking for a body in the water, but they couldn’t find him.”

“Then one day he walked into the village – nothing wrong with him – and when they asked him where he’d been he told them one crazy tale.

“He said some strange folks came down from the sky and carved this out, then they took him away in a strange boat, up into the air and then brought him back down again. When they asked where he was for the four days he didn’t believe it. He thought he was only gone for a little while, an hour or so maybe. Strange,huh?”

I definitely had to agree. I didn’t tell him that I’d had a taste of that strangeness myself.

A couple of weeks later I went back with my daughter’s husband and laid in the carved figure. I got quite the soaker laying there and it was as I had first thought, somewhat smaller than me.

I can only wonder, once again, what does all this mean, if anything? Is there any real meaning to it that applies to me? Does it have any significance for anything at all? Was I shown these things for a reason, or just to confuse me? Was it somehow connected to the birth of my grandson? There is no compelling reason to believe it is, or isn’t.

If there is some meaning I’ve never discovered it and it remains a complete mystery to me.

Since that time I’ve kept an eye out, half expecting that perhaps around some corner, down some unfamiliar road, I’ll run into a chain link fence with a gate in it, and a depression around a corner that you can climb under, and there will be a rectangular building with a circular room inside.

So far it hasn’t happened. And I don’t go searching anymore.

I’ve yet to hear of anything similar happening to anyone else. There is, of course, the young man in Sweden who stopped at a gas station that he couldn’t find again. Perhaps at some other place and some other time he did find it. One can only hope. Otherwise it will likely puzzle and possibly disturb him for years, as I it did me. I do so hope he does, even to prove for himself that it was real, albeit a very strange version of reality. And that he hadn’t lost his mind.

I’m old now, but just maybe. Just maybe……..

There’s a legend among the native people where I was born and raised, concerning what they call The Trickster (rough translation) and that when you’re in the bush there is the possibility that you might encounter this being. The Trickster can steal into your camp and take things, usually important items, and make off with them.

It can also transform itself and fool you: it could appear as a person, or as an animal, and play tricks on you in this way. Could it be something like that? I'm not superstitious enough to accept that as an answer either.

The problem I have is that these events all seem so….ordinary….and yet contain such mystery that even though it happened to me (and a number of other mysterious events and unlikely coincidences as well) I sometimes have a difficult time accepting that it really did happen.

To all who may have been following this tale – thanks for your patience. It means a lot to me to finally be able, even anonymously, to unburden myself to some degree. It has all influenced my life in many ways, many of them not positive.

Thanks again
 
This resonates with me:
Any of our friends were welcome to use our cabin even if we weren’t there so long as they chopped firewood to replace what they used.
Click to expand...
In 1987 the boat I was living on was wrecked in a storm in Woodbridge, Suffolk, and I was forced to seek shelter with friends who lived there. A traumatic event for me, although not otherwise spooky.

But one thing I did there was chop logs into firewood. (Apart from those too knotty to succumb to the axe, which I stacked separately.)

I say it wasn't spooky, although Woodbridge is not far from Rendlesham Forest, the scene of a big UFO scare some years before, not to mention the Sutton Hoo ship burial...

(Not that any of that was in my mind in 1987.)
 
bankinthebush,

Excellent story and beautifully described.

Your writing style reminds me of Stephen King and I guess you can't find a better compliment than that.

Be happy
 
An interesting and intriguing tale told in an evocative style. Bravo!
 
The best Fortean story I've read in a while.

backinthebush - sounds like you met the Canadian equivalent of the Aos Sí, replete with beautiful young woman, trickster themes, space (and time?) distortions and animal guides.

I too would love to see a map ref or Google Earth link.
 
Thank you all for the kind words regarding my story. I'm happy to see some enjoyed it enough or were interested enough to post comments afterward.

While I appreciate the highly flattering comparison to Stephen King I must point out there are significant differences. For one thing, he's a highly talented and accomplished (not to mention rich!) writer of fiction while I, on the other hand, am a tradesman who has written nothing but non-fiction. (And am certainly not rich) I just don't have the imagination necessary for good fiction. But thank you very much none the less.

Also, I would like, if possible, to add a photo of one of the sites I discovered. The problem is that I don't know how this is done.

If someone could give me pointers on how to do that I would be most grateful.

Thanks a bunch
 
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