Breck
The Whisk(e)y Dick
15 years ago, my now ex-wife and I were camping around the OP with our dog, Ronin. We pulled into a campground on the Sol-Duc (I don't recall the name). There were two large loops of campsites, one downstream that was completely full and one loop upstream from that one that was completely empty. So, we decided to set up camp in the deserted loop. It was a nice spot right on the river and we set up camp, drank some tequila, got a fire going, and cooked dinner. When the sun went down, we were sitting by the fire relaxing and making S'mores when Ronin started flipping out, whining and trembling and trying to get underneath my camp chair. It was one of those black moonless nights. Both of us began to feel a real sense of unease. Not long after that, the whispers started. Not loud enough to be able to determine any actual words, but we both heard them and Ronin was a mess. Ronin was 1/2 husky & 1/2 rottweiler and a pretty stalwart dog. Not much scared him, but it was clear that he was terrified in this moment. If it had been other campers in the bushes messing with us, Ronin would have barked. He wasn't afraid of people. We considered breaking camp and getting the hell out of there because shit just got weirder and creepier, but we had been drinking (not wasted, but likely over the limit) and decided not to drive and just tough it out. after a while, everything just kinda returned to normal, Ronin calmed down and we were able to have a relatively decent night's sleep. We did get out of there at first light though.


