Carbon River, Mount Rainier WA
Last month I spent 7 nights camped out near the base of Mount Rainier at what I would later realize was not a campsite. Instead, it was a dead-end turnaround of a US Forest Service road and would explain all of the traffic I received.
Prior to setting out, I searched online for free camping in the “Rainier” area and this particular location came up. Even though it was a marked USFS road, I had it in my head I was going camping and this would be a camping location.
Day after day, truck after truck, people with guns arrived at my campsite before seeing the area was occupied and then turned around. Each day was also filled with the sounds of gunfire from shotguns, handhelds, hunting rifles, and automatic weapons. Once the sun began to set, however, the sounds of nature could be heard.
On the 6th day, even God would have been unable to rest. Tired of traffic pulling into my campsite, I moved my car up into the two-track entrance to effectively block access. One truck pulled up to the front of the car and the driver shut off the engine, walked into the campsite and looked around before spotting me on a small hill overlooking the area. He asked me if I would kindly come down and move my car so he could turn around. In response I asked him to try to back up 2 truck lengths to a pullout area instead. He glared at me before turning back toward his truck. Moments later, he was turned around but instead of leaving, he once more shut off his ignition. I climbed down to go make sure he was able to get headed in the right direction. He was just fine. After I got back up on the hill, gun fire started to ring out from his 44 magnum. He was about 100 feet from me and it was so loud, I stopped moving and waited to hear leaves ripping in half around where I stood. I got the feeling I upset him and already knew he was angry and most likely up there to vent his frustration with a box of ammo. After about 30 rounds, him and his buddy loaded back into the truck and drove toward the bridge. Again he stopped and emptied another 20-30 rounds. He repeated this once more after again moving further up the road. When they were well on their way and away from where I was camped, I went up the road to see what he was shooting at. As far as I could tell, nothing more than young trees, trying to knock them in half with a single bullet. At least he took his empty casings with him.
The entire area was littered with garbage and left-overs from target practice.
Then the last day arrived (I cut my trip short by 3 days) when someone else drove into the campsite. It wasn’t until after they left that I realized my campsite was simply a turnaround and where someone previously had set up a fire pit in the middle to give them some heat as they drank and blew shit up on the hill I climbed earlier. Realizing this and that I shouldn’t be blocking the road as I did, I packed up and headed back into town. But not before I checked out the Mount Rainier park entrance across the river from where I’d stayed.
I should also add that while camped here, I had contact with who I believe to be 2 or 3 Sasquatch. That story will be available in my upcoming book, Bigfoot: Four Types of Contact.