That Night, We Shouldn't Have Camped There

This is a true account of an unsettling encounter that took place on the final night of the Mabolasi Traverse, one of Taiwan's mountaineering routes. A mildly frightening story — reader discretion is advised.

The world is filled with mysteries, especially those unexplained phenomena that seem beyond the reach of science. They often leave us suspended between belief and skepticism. Perhaps that is why, rather than relying on the countless stories and interpretations from others, only those who have truly experienced such moments can understand the undeniable reality behind them.

I have always believed in the existence of things that cannot be explained, because I have personally encountered them twice.

The first time was when I was in high school. A classmate and I witnessed someone enter a completely enclosed restroom, only for that person to disappear without a trace after going inside. The second time happened while I was hiking alone through the forests of Mt. Qilai, where I saw two people — one wearing red and the other wearing yellow — before they silently vanished right in front of my eyes. Those two experiences convinced me that there are souls in this world that belong to another realm.

However, what I never expected was that only a few years later, I would once again experience something so extraordinary. And this time, the situation was completely different — far more chilling than before.

The incident took place in the autumn of 2020. At the time, two friends and I were attempting the Mabolasi Traverse, one of Taiwan's four renowned high-difficulty mountaineering routes, and on the final night of this eight-day journey, something completely unexpected happened.

That day, our original plan was to hike from the southern source of the Haiyilaluo Stream to Mabugu Cabin and spend the night there. However, we arrived much earlier than expected, and the weather conditions were also more stable than forecast.

After taking a short rest and discussing our options at Mabugu Cabin, we decided to carry some extra water, make a side trip to Mt. Maxi, and then continue onward to camp near the trailhead of Mt. Kasipanan.

Mt. Kasipanan surrounded by drifting clouds on the afternoon after our ascent of Mt. Maxi, the day we camped there.

The rest of the journey went smoothly, and as planned, we arrived before nightfall.

However, anyone who has hiked this route knows that Mt. Kasipanan has two trailheads. Since it was our first time visiting the area, we were unfamiliar with the actual conditions. Worried that the second trailhead might not have enough space for camping, and with darkness already beginning to settle in, we decided to choose the first trailhead as our campsite.

Nevertheless, there was no suitable flat ground around the first trailhead for setting up tents. We searched the surrounding area and eventually found a place where we could settle down — a narrow grassy valley surrounded by trees to our front left.

This grassy valley was not a designated campsite marked on the map. The grass was extremely dense, making it nearly impossible to set up tents directly. Fortunately, near the trailhead, we happened to find a flat, dry depression surrounded by grass that was just large enough to accommodate our two tents.

After clearing away the stones on the ground, leveling the area, and setting up our tents, we enjoyed dinner together beneath a sky full of stars. We talked while eating, then eventually returned to our tents to rest.

That night, I slept alone in one tent, while my two friends shared the other. Since it wasn't particularly cold in the mountains that night, I intentionally left the tent door open to prevent condensation, and slept with my head facing the entrance.

Then, something unusual happened.

I woke up unexpectedly.

Outside the tent, behind the right side of my head, I heard a rustling sound coming from the grass — "shh, shh, shh, shh" — and it continued for a very long time.

At first, I thought it was simply the natural sound of wind moving through the grass, so I didn't think much of it, just closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep again. However, not long after, I woke up once more, or rather, I was awakened by the sound that had never stopped.

I sat up and carefully listened in the silence of the night. The longer I listened, the more unusual the rhythm became, and the more unsettling it felt. It was not the irregular rustling caused by wind moving through vegetation. Instead, it sounded almost like something was... intentionally creating the noise.

I was almost certain that there was a "something" repeatedly stepping back and forth on the grass outside my tent, , while an indescribable chill suddenly spread through my entire body. I could clearly feel an overwhelming sense of pressure — what I would describe as an extremely heavy "spiritual presence" — surrounding my tent. Then, I looked toward the entrance. Near a tree at the edge of the forest, I saw a white, translucent, elongated "thing" standing there.

I immediately reached out and pulled the tent door shut, forced myself to lie back down and close my eyes. After changing positions several times, I kept telling myself not to think about anything, until eventually I managed to fall asleep again. Strangely, from the moment I closed the tent door, the footsteps outside never sounded again — not until the following morning.

The next morning after waking up, I did not immediately tell my two friends about what had happened the night before. Instead, after we climbed Mt. Kasipanan and began our descent, I finally shared my experience with them.

To my surprise, one of my teammates, David, revealed that he had already sensed that unusual "presence" the previous evening, while we were setting up our tents and preparing dinner.

According to David, while we were still chatting and cooking, that "thing" had already been standing behind and to the right of my tent, silently watching us. Later, when he went into the nearby forest to use the restroom before going to sleep, he also strongly felt that the "thing" was staring directly at him, making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

As for the rhythmic footsteps I heard during the night, David had heard them as well, although not as clearly as I did. Even more unsettling was what happened when David woke up in the middle of the night. Looking toward the open entrance of his tent — where they had placed their backpacks — he vaguely saw a "thing" standing there quietly. The backpacks, which were normally clearly visible, appeared to take on a hazy, white, mist-like appearance under the moonlight.

At that point, our other friend was surprised and told us that she had not sensed anything unusual throughout the entire night, let alone seen anything strange.

Compared to her complete lack of awareness, David and I felt a chill after hearing each other's experiences. Even more strangely, as we continued talking, we discovered that before this trip began, both of us had unexpectedly received special protective charms.

Normally, before heading into the mountains, I have a habit of visiting a temple to pray and carrying a protective charm from the deity throughout the journey. However, this time was different. Before we departed, my mother and my company manager had independently gone to well-known temples to ask for protective charms for me. At the same time, David had also received one from a family member to carry with him on the mountain.

Only then did we realize that, somehow, everything seemed to have been arranged in advance, as if we had unknowingly been prepared for what was about to happen.

After successfully completing the expedition, we became curious whether anything historical had ever happened in that grassy valley, so we searched for relevant information online. However, the only results we found were the "Kasipanan Incident" along the Batongguan Traversing Trail, which occurred some distance away from our campsite on the opposite mountain ridge, and a record of another hiker who had suffered a broken leg. Other than that, we found nothing.

We did discover, however, that the area was once located along the traditional boundaries between several Indigenous Taiwanese communities. In the past, it may have been connected to the custom of headhunting practiced by some tribes.

Therefore, what exactly we encountered that night remains impossible to determine.

We can only speculate that the depression where we camped was a grassy wetland where spiritual energy might gather — perhaps the spirit of an animal from the surrounding mountains, or perhaps an ancient soul left behind from a former battlefield or hunting ground. Perhaps, without realizing it, we had disturbed its presence.

Over the years, I have heard many strange stories shared by experienced mountaineers and guides. Among the most classic is the story of "footsteps continuously circling around a tent."

Although what we encountered was not footsteps walking around our tent, it was still more than enough to leave a lasting impression.

Perhaps because we had just completed a long and exhausting traverse, our bodies were already pushed to their limits, and that extreme fatigue prevented us from reacting with overwhelming fear at the time.

Looking back now, it feels as though those three protective charms were inside our tents that we were able to face the unknown safely — respecting the spirits while keeping our distance.

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Afterword:

Some time after the incident, it seemed that the "thing" had followed me home. On several nights afterward, I felt its presence inside my room while I was sleeping. On one occasion, I even felt something lift the blanket near my feet and slip underneath it. My entire body began trembling, and I was too afraid to open my eyes. It was only after repeatedly reciting prayers in my mind that I gradually calmed myself down.

After several unsettling nights, the presence finally disappeared quietly. Yet even today, I still cannot help but wonder — with a household altar already present in my home, why would the deities allow such a presence to enter? It remains a mystery that I have never been able to fully understand.

The following year, in early April 2021, I returned to the mountains with my another two friends to complete the Xinkang Traverse. On the final day, while descending from the Batongguan Traversing Trail, we happened to arrive directly across from the location where this incident had occurred the year before.

There, we discovered the "Kasipanan Incident Memorial Monument," which was marked on the map.

Although I cannot say with absolute certainty whether what we encountered that night was connected to the spirits of those involved in that historical event, at that moment, I naturally walked toward the monument, placed my hands together, and bowed deeply in silence.

At sunrise, looking from the summit of Mt. Kasipanan toward Mt. Xinkang, with the eastern section of the Batongguan Traversing Trail faintly visible below.