So me and the boys got back from our Michigan trip on Saturday. We were winter camping in da’ U.P. until someone (this guy!) got food poisoning and caused us to leave a day early.
Only creepy thing to really happen to me was when we got there we found bear tracks (it IS black bear country). So 1:30 AM when I wake up sick the first night, I hear something move through our campsite. It wasn’t the wind, because I could hear it move from point to point slowly, like it was exploring.
I was lying in my sleeping bag, very warm but nauseous and with a pounding headache. My rifle was lying next to my pack inside the tent, and all I could hear would be some of our outside gear move. The metal cookware drag, yet all of the food was untouched the next morning. Even the stuff just sitting out. Then it stopped, and was replaced by the wind and normal rustling sounds.
There was no fingertips on the tent fabric or anything like that, but what scared me was the lack of any animal footprints surrounding the site. So it’s either a magic bear (most likely explanation), my sick fever brain imagining things, or the Wendigo, since I chose earlier that night to tell stories about it. So, I tell stories about the Wendigo and get sick from the meat I cooked. Seems too much to be a coincidence to me…