I camped by myself in Northern MN by boat. Found my spot but saw an unidentifiable creepy blob underwater. Set up my tent etc., went fishing but curiosity lead me to the blob again and I finally figured out it was a large dead deer contorted and missing it's abdomen. Later I noticed bark scraped off tree about 8 ft up (bear sign). It was getting dark.

(Serious) I was living in a dirt floor cabin for about 6 months. I would pack a lunch and hike out half a day in random directions. One day I found an abandoned hotel with an attic full of bats. The old kitchen was full of taxidermy. Not abandoned old taxidermy...current taxidermy, in various states of finish. There was a closet with stacks of dead birds, tools, woodworking tools and glass for the display cases, etc. I noped out of there in a hurry. I took my brother there later because he didn't believe me...so I have a witness.

This happened to my cousin while camping in Maine. He decided to settle into his tent for the night. He was woken up at around 2am by footsteps just outside his tent.

Whoever it was paced out there for at least an hour. My cousin just waited until they left, and left immediately. He doesn't camp alone anymore.

Well for me it would be doing land navigation in the Fort Benning area and hearing wild hogs squeal, 4 in the morning, absolutely pitch black...alone.

Sorry for a "not me but someone else's story" story, but here it is anyway: I used to work for the US Forest Service and sometimes worked with an older gentleman that had lots of interesting stories from his many years of life. But by far the most chilling tale was from when he was working in a very secluded area of wilderness and was walking through the forest when a thunderstorm hit. He had seen a opening in the hill a little while back and headed to it to take shelter. Once inside he shined his flashlight to check he wasn't going to wake up a bear or something and found the skeleton of a man, sitting in a lawn chair, with a rifle rigged up so he had been able to shoot himself. The skeleton was still wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

I've met a lot of bull shitters in my time and this guy wasn't one, he'd honestly just led an interesting life.

Someone I worked with was surveying for birds in a relatively remote forest in Canada. They stumbled across a campsite that looked like it was about 5-10 years old. The tent was collapsed, but everything else looked like it was untouched. There was a clothesline up, dishes on the ground, and a few other items scattered around. Everything was dirty and covered in leaves, but there was no evidence of anything bad happening. She noped the hell out of there before checking the tent.

To this day, I'm morbidly curious about what the hell happened at that campsite.

I was running on a logging road in central Wisconsin and stopped because I felt like I was being watched. It was just an instinctive feeling. That's when I noticed a large wolf step out of the forest about 50 yards ahead of me. It was just staring and I stared back. After about 30 seconds of us checking each other out it just slipped back into the woods and was gone. I kept running in the same direction but never really shook the feeling of being watched. I guess it's not that scary because wolves rarely attack people, but you betcha it was creepy enough being alone out there.

From May 2010 to May 2011, I worked as a security guard at a hydroelectric dam in Virginia. It was a fairly isolated location; if you needed an ambulance, you could expect at least a 20 minute wait. About a month after I was hired, one of the guys at the dam told me that most security guards out there quit after a few days because they got so creeped out being alone at the dam at night, and he was glad I was sticking it out.

In truth, it could be creepy. Sometimes at night, when I was patrolling the basement level of the dam itself, I’d think about the fact that I was fifty feet below the water-line on the low side, the only human being in about a mile and a half radius. Sometimes I’d hear weird noises in the woods, or catch a flash of a shadow while I was inside the dam. It takes a lot to scare me, though, and I knew I was either hearing critters in the woods or my mind was playing tricks on me.

One night, however, something happened that scared the living hell out of me. It was a little after 11 p.m., and I was sitting in the guard house reading a book. Suddenly, I heard a tap at the door.

What was creepy about the guard house at night was that when you had the lamp inside turned on, people could look through the windows at you, but the glare made it difficult for you to see outside.

When I heard the tap at the door, I thought it was a bug hitting the glass; it was so faint, and I knew there weren’t any contractors at the dam. I had the place to myself.

Then the tap came again, more insistent this time.

I grabbed my flashlight and opened the door. There was no one there.

Then I let the door slip from my hand and shut behind me. To my left — previously concealed by the door as I had opened it — was a huge man, at least 400 pounds, wearing a gray sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. The sweatshirt was smeared with fresh blood.

My heart started hammering. My blood ran cold. I was so scared I couldn’t speak.

As it turns out, he was a local fisherman who had been fishing off the bridge over the tailrace and he was wondering why the power company hadn’t started back-pumping into the lake yet, because they usually started a little before 11 and that was what always drew in the big striped bass. He was smeared with blood because he’d already caught and gutted a couple and wiped his hands on his shirt. He felt really bad when he realized that he had approached me basically in the same way that a creeper in a horror movie would have.

I am thankful to this day that I was unarmed security, because if I’d had a gun, I would have either shot him or accidentally shot myself while trying to shoot him.

So I worked at a ranch in southern Arizona, right on the border. I didn't really consider it to be secluded because I had horses and cows. In hindsight, I guess it was really lonely because sometimes they'd talk back to me.

Anyways, doing fence borders with a guy from another camp and we had to go down into this dry river bed. As we round the bend we see a bunch of beat up trucks sitting there armed to the teeth. Turns out we ran into some kind of big deal for a cartel. The other guy told me to keep steady and we just walked straight through them on our horses. Everyone staring at us, looking like they were ready to shoot us up if we made one false move.

I asked about it when we got to the other side without turning into swiss cheese and the more experienced rancher told me: "The Cartel only cares about Border Patrol and Cops. They know this is a ranch, and they know we roam around here, and they know we don't say much." Reason being, if they ever assumed the ranchers were the snitches, they could easily find our little ranch houses. Only had 1 person to so many acres. Could have been offed and left there for many days before someone noticed. With all that in mind, I had a very passive relationship with those kind from then on.

Im really late to the thread, but one of the dads in my scout troop spent some time doing photography for National Geographic. He would hike out to remote places alone and take photos for a few days. Well one time he was developing his photography and he saw a bunch of photos of him sleeping. He said he quit shortly after that.