Master Debaiter

Creeped Out

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On 10/23/2018 at 9:44 PM, ThrowinPlugs said:

One night I was fishing the NS. Dead quiet, zero wind, no waves, pitch dark with no moon. I'm walking/wading down a beach. I get to a certain point and had a "something ain't right" moment. Could've swore I saw a mist in the dark. Turned around and smelled perfume. Walked faster, stop to cast a bit, got a chill up my whole body followed by a LOUD hum/buzz in my ear (there were no bugs, not even skeeters). Yeah I high tailed it to the truck and left after that.

 

I feel ya.

Do you still fish at night after that ?

 

 

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On 10/23/2018 at 9:37 PM, Master Debaiter said:

I hate those long solo walks in the middle of the night and you’re constantly looking over your shoulder and you’re mind is all over the place. 

Had a bad experience years ago and haven't fished the surf at night since.

 

Of course this happened on the beaches of Atlantic City, so i guess i should have known better.....

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When I was a kid my Dad and I used to fish this spot where an old rail spur crossed the creek over an old wood and iron trestle bridge. There was an old caboose parked on the tracks there rusting away. No houses around except for a farm about 1/2 mile away and on the other side. A number of years ago I decided to go back there and have a try on a late spring afternoon. Dad is long gone. The caboose is now in local railroad museum. The trestle bridge is still there but so rotten that its ready to fall down. So I grabbed my gear and started down the railbed to the creek. It was overgrown with thick brush and I was making alot of noise busting through this mess. As I got closer to the creek, I began to hear a loud low growl coming from my left. Through the branches of trees I could see a glimpse of a rock face about 100 yards away in that direction. I paused for a minute and listened. The growling continued but wasn't getting any closer. I said hell with it and continued on to the creek and headed upstream. I fished a few hours and as it started to get towards dark I got to thinking that I had to go back to my truck the same way I came. I tried to think of what could've been making that growling noise? It was a very low tone and loud so I'm thinking large animal. Maybe a stray farm animal?  Maybe a bear? There were no bears around here when I was a kid but its different now. Bears sightings all around here. Started getting a little nervous. I did end up making it back to my truck without incident, but I did not like the way I felt on that trip. I never went back there until this past spring, but I now am packing a piece in a shoulder holster under my waders. Not sure how well a 9mm will fare against an angry bear but at least I won't go down without a fight.

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I remember the night I was fishing about an hour before sunrise in Chatham, it was a very calm morning with no wind and lots of fog. I was about 100 yards to the left of a estuary channel that led to a small harbor when I could hear what sounded like bag pipes. At first as it was faint then it got louder and eventually faded of into nothing. It was now starting to get lighter out when the bag pipes again could be heard and this time I could see a small Dory with the man standing playing the pipes in the front of the Dory and a group of four people. 

 

It it was more of an Erie feeling as opposed to creepy. I figured it was was a small family gathering to do a scattering of some ashes at sea. I did not make another cast until it was silent again, I thought that was at least the most respectful thing I could do.

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Was fishing Gin Beach / Shagwong pt one new moon night about 8 yrs ago............ beach was impassable about 3/4 of the way to the pt due to erosion so you had to park & huff it the rest of the way.....

 

I'm walking along, stopping & casting at the various rips towards the end of the stretch... im near the point now.... out of the dark, over the top of the dune comes this raccoon charging at me like he was part of the cavalry, growling & screaming..... it definitely wanted a pc of me :dismay:

 

Had to fight it off with my rod.... :box:

 

it retreated after a couple of smacks with the lami..............:beatin:

 

Maybe rabid??? :why:  ...... idk

 

That was effing freaky, sent shivers down my spine :scared: 

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On 10/24/2018 at 10:09 AM, SlackTideBri said:

Could and never will get used to a blue heron "squauuuck!" right behind me on a quiet solo fishing night. Instant jeebs. Wish they quacked, moo'ed or even howled like oddball in Kellys Heros.

Yes this !! - damned pterodactyls have near given me a coronary more than once

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I have no specific incident, but know the feeling of feeling like I’m being watched or that something bad is about to happen because i fish alone at night all the time. 

 

Have fished alone overnight during the more off nights of the season in IBSP on the bay side of the island when the park is practically empty.

 

Hopefully others here have done this as well so that they know what I’m talking about, but wandering those narrow wooded trails alone in the dark and sometimes getting them confused is pretty damn freaky in my opinion even with a headlamp on. 

 

I also hate feeling the need to look over my shoulders all the time on the beach side of IBSP just to keep a bead on those mangy little foxes staring at me and creeping around while I’m fishing.

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Was doing a little browsing yesterday and came across this story. SUPER CREEPY!

 

(*from Mental Floss)



On a warm July day in 1995, a fisherman cast his line into the waters of Brandywine Creek, about 30 miles west of Philadelphia, and settled in for what he probably hoped would be a relaxing few hours. But it wasn't long before he realized something was off—a foul stench was saturating the air. The fisherman traced the odor to a green garbage bag half-submerged in a muddy area near the creek. When he cut it open, he made the worst possible kind of discovery.

Inside the bag was a maroon suitcase, and inside the suitcase was the top half of a dead woman. The body was naked except for a bloodstained bra, and bruised near the right eye and on the back. Packed around the lifeless corpse were the remnants of the life the dead woman might once have lived: a denim blouse, a headband, a quilt, and bloody sheets.

The fisherman quickly summoned the police, who soon began delving into what has become one of Pennsylvania's most frustrating cold cases.

THE TWIN TUNNELS

It was not lost on anyone—not the police officers who soon arrived, nor the fisherman who found the body—that the creek was in the shadow of the Twin Tunnels. Just the mention of these tunnels can make the blood of Chester County locals run cold. Built to accommodate the railroad tracks running above, they're in a lonely but picturesque area just a few miles east of central Downingtown, in a spot frequented by drunk teenagers and urban explorers looking for a good scare. Two of the graffitied, gray-brick tunnels have been abandoned for decades, while one carries minimal traffic. Part of the reason the abandoned tunnels are so eerie is that they bend, so that when you enter at one end the exit isn't visible; it's all just claustrophobic darkness.

The other reason the tunnels have such a dark reputation are the legends. For years, stories about the Twin Tunnels have circulated among locals. One says that a distraught young woman hanged herself in one of the tunnels while holding her baby—she died when the rope snapped her neck, and her infant plummeted to its death on the hard surface below. Some claim to have seen the mother's body swinging in the darkness, or heard her child's cries echoing throughout the underpass. Another piece of local folklore insists that a man shrouded in darkness roams the tunnels aimlessly. The phantom is said to be related either to a father who beat his son to death and hid his battered body in the tunnels, or an Irish railroad worker who died in an accident when the tunnels were under construction.

The discovery of the murdered woman in the suitcase seemed to throw the mythology of the tunnels into stark relief, especially because she seemed to be such a mystery. A forensic investigation established the basics: She had been dead for between three and seven days, was between 17 and 40 years old, white or Hispanic, about 5 feet 3 inches tall, and roughly 130 pounds. There was no sign of sexual assault. Her legs appeared to have been severed after she was killed, and her death seemed to have taken place in a different location from the creek. But she had no tattoos or visible scars, and there was no identification (such as a driver’s license) with the body. Her fingerprints did not match any found in databases around the country. The summer heat and water of the creek had accelerated her decomposition, making her features difficult to identify. There were no leads to go on.

Seven months after the fisherman's disturbing discovery, another piece of the puzzle emerged. In January 1996, a jogger stumbled upon the victim’s severed legs nearly 50 miles away from Brandywine Creek. Like the head and torso, they had been wrapped in garbage bags, and there was also another trash bag nearby containing women’s and girls' clothing. Medical examiners weren’t able to match the legs and torso with DNA evidence due to the decomposition, but the severed right leg bone fit perfectly into the hip of the torso. Investigators were convinced the legs belonged to the woman the press would begin calling Suitcase Jane Doe.

AN ENDLESS JOURNEY
Law enforcement professionals who have worked on the case say it's among the most frustrating of their careers. "These are cases that bother us because we can't even begin to investigate why they're dead until we figure out who they are," police corporal Patrick Quigley, one of the original investigators, told the Daily Local News of Chester County in 2011. Part of the problem, Quigley said, is that "Adults have a right to disappear ... people walk away all of the time without it being suspicious."

And in some cases, people may not have close family or friends who would report them missing. America’s Most Wanted producer David Braxton told the Philadelphia Inquirer: “[Jane Doe cases] slip through the cracks because you don't have that advocate, that family member to keep the case alive ... and it is hard from a storytelling and crime-solving standpoint because you have few clues."

That doesn't mean the police haven't tried. In 1997, they commissioned Frank Bender, a forensic sculptor from Philadelphia, to create a clay reconstruction of the murdered woman's face. Bender had been sculpting busts of criminals and victims since 1976; his most famous creation is a sculpture of John List, who murdered his family in 1971 and was captured in 1989 after his story—and Bender’s likeness of him—aired on America’s Most Wanted. By commissioning an image of Suitcase Jane Doe, police hoped to spark the public’s interest yet again.

While the police received calls from all over the world after a photograph of Bender’s Suitcase Jane Doe bust ran in several publications, none of the information led anywhere promising.

Over the past 23 years, police have appealed to the public repeatedly for information. The case was even featured twice on America’s Most Wanted. Investigators say that all tips have been followed up on, but they haven’t produced any solid leads. Around 2000, there was a glimmer of hope when the victim's dental records seemed to be a possible match for a missing woman from Virginia, but the physical descriptions of the two women didn't add up.

REASON TO BELIEVE
As disheartening as the case has been, for the authorities working on it, there will always be a reason to hope for a resolution. Cold cases are sometimes solved decades later: In September 2018, a Jane Doe found in Tennessee in 1985 was identified as Tina Marie McKenney Farmer, a woman who had been missing from Indiana since 1984. The break in the case happened after investigators stumbled across a blog post about Farmer, contacted her family, and ran DNA and fingerprint tests. (While her identity was established, the question of who killed Farmer and why remains a mystery.)

There's also always the possibility that forensic genealogy—which has solved crimes thanks to DNA entered into genealogical databases, as happened with the Golden State Killer—may one day provide a break in the case. (In April 2018, the body of a young woman found in an Ohio ditch in 1981, known as "Buckskin Girl" for her distinctive fringed jacket, was identified in four hours thanks to genetic testing.) It all depends on whether the right kind of sleuth decides to tackle the mystery.

For now, the murdered woman's fingerprints, DNA, and dental records have been added to national and international databases, and there's always a chance investigators will get a hit matching another crime scene or criminal.

In the meantime, a lot of questions remain unanswered in Chester County. Who was the woman who was dismembered and discarded along a lonely creek bed? Why did her killer, or killers, dump her body near the Twin Tunnels? Were they taking advantage of the disturbing reputation of the place, thinking no one would investigate a half-submerged suitcase?

Regardless of the intentions, the crime's many mysteries have only added to the area's chilling associations—a legacy that will likely linger even if Suitcase Jane Doe can one day be identified.

Edited by TimS
added text

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I started to make a conscious effort to fish fresh of late.  I went North on the Delaware and had a blast with Smallies.  Where I was had this strong aroma of what I thought was manure.  Plausible since I was in a rural area.  I waded out onto an island and walk it South to North fishing.  The smell was getting stronger.  I look down and almost stepped into a large pile of crap.  Glad I missed it I side stepped almost into another pile.  I look around to find there are piles everywhere.  I decide I should head out of there, got back to my car and a local asked how I did.  I explained my discovery and he asked if I realized that I was in fact fishing in Bear country.  That left me spooked.  Now on the times when I go out in the predawn every little branch moved by the wind gives me pause.  Fishing the Delaware in the dark is a lot different than fishing an open beach or a jetty in the dark.  At least on the beach I feel like I can seem something approaching.  On the river in the dark you cant see what might be lurking 20 feet away from u in the trees.    

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45 mins ago, fishless said:

I started to make a conscious effort to fish fresh of late.  I went North on the Delaware and had a blast with Smallies.  Where I was had this strong aroma of what I thought was manure.  Plausible since I was in a rural area.  I waded out onto an island and walk it South to North fishing.  The smell was getting stronger.  I look down and almost stepped into a large pile of crap.  Glad I missed it I side stepped almost into another pile.  I look around to find there are piles everywhere.  I decide I should head out of there, got back to my car and a local asked how I did.  I explained my discovery and he asked if I realized that I was in fact fishing in Bear country.  That left me spooked.  Now on the times when I go out in the predawn every little branch moved by the wind gives me pause.  Fishing the Delaware in the dark is a lot different than fishing an open beach or a jetty in the dark.  At least on the beach I feel like I can seem something approaching.  On the river in the dark you cant see what might be lurking 20 feet away from u in the trees.    

good move, some time it pays to go with your gut...:th::th:

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On ‎12‎/‎2‎/‎2018 at 9:01 AM, Redneck Tourist said:

When I was a kid my Dad and I used to fish this spot where an old rail spur crossed the creek over an old wood and iron trestle bridge. There was an old caboose parked on the tracks there rusting away. No houses around except for a farm about 1/2 mile away and on the other side. A number of years ago I decided to go back there and have a try on a late spring afternoon. Dad is long gone. The caboose is now in local railroad museum. The trestle bridge is still there but so rotten that its ready to fall down. So I grabbed my gear and started down the railbed to the creek. It was overgrown with thick brush and I was making alot of noise busting through this mess. As I got closer to the creek, I began to hear a loud low growl coming from my left. Through the branches of trees I could see a glimpse of a rock face about 100 yards away in that direction. I paused for a minute and listened. The growling continued but wasn't getting any closer. I said hell with it and continued on to the creek and headed upstream. I fished a few hours and as it started to get towards dark I got to thinking that I had to go back to my truck the same way I came. I tried to think of what could've been making that growling noise? It was a very low tone and loud so I'm thinking large animal. Maybe a stray farm animal?  Maybe a bear? There were no bears around here when I was a kid but its different now. Bears sightings all around here. Started getting a little nervous. I did end up making it back to my truck without incident, but I did not like the way I felt on that trip. I never went back there until this past spring, but I now am packing a piece in a shoulder holster under my waders. Not sure how well a 9mm will fare against an angry bear but at least I won't go down without a fight.

my next post was gonna be pack some heat to level things,,spare mag too.

I always have one.

if it can't go,neither can I.

HH

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53 mins ago, Heavy Hooksetter said:

my next post was gonna be pack some heat to level things,,spare mag too.

I always have one.

if it can't go,neither can I.

HH

Agreed

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On 10/23/2018 at 9:48 PM, hydraman said:

Your mind likes to play tricks on you but that’s what makes you feel alive. 

 

I love being in the woods at night.  Quasi-lost, or far from houses/roads.  it just feels right.  There's an "unknown" factor, but not a "creepy" factor.

 

Fishing, or more specifically bay spots or jetties, personally, can have that "hmmmm" thing going on though.  I have zero explanation for it.   

 

 

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