I wish my dog could back up this story about what we saw on the beach…

This happened three years ago in the summer. One morning, I got up around 4:30am and thought I’d go for a walk and catch the sun rise. I brought my dog along, a German Shepard mutt named Dave(trust me, he looks like one).

We hopped in my car and drive the five or so minutes to a beach. This beach is part of a national park, with a coastline that goes on for miles. Dave and I both like this spot because the earlier in the morning you go, the better your chances are of finding stuff washed ashore. Stuff that’s usually removed by park rangers before the masses hit the beach. For example, one time we found the carcass of a lemon shark.

Another reason I like this beach so much is because it’s easy to find yourself alone the further you go from the parking lot. To your left is the open ocean and to your right are sand cliffs almost 30 feet high, and you can see out forever in front and behind you - so that being said, the isolation is quite peaceful. There are also no land predators except for coyotes in this area and they want nothing to do with you 99% of the time.

On our walk that morning, Dave and I spotted another dead thing washed ashore. I felt the usual tug on the leash as we drew near; I always let Dave sniff whatever-it-is so he gets his kicks in(I never let him lick or bite though). A few long strides more, and I see that the dead thing is a deer. The waves swashed forth around it, and receded back into the ocean, blood red. The smell was gamey, not rotten.

I come to a stop in front of the deer and let Dave do his sniffs. All is seemingly normal for a split second until a man - I shit you not - dressed head to toe in deep winter ski clothes shoots up from the other side of the deer. He was covered in blood and had a chunk of meat in his mouth, which he quickly swallowed. I stared back at myself on his blood splattered reflective goggles for a moment in total shock, and then Dave starts high caliber barking. “Holy shit!” I yelled either aloud or in my head, and then pulled hard on Daves leash.

The man took a receding step - and he started barking back.

Dave stopped barking momentarily. The split second following, the man made a beeline over to the sand cliffs, and then Dave was rattling off again and I had to hold him back. I started moving in the other direction and yelled ‘no’ over and over again for a few seconds until Dave finally listened.

I checked to see where the man had gone, and then I saw something that left my mind totally blank.

This man was scaling the 30 foot sand cliffs like a mountain goat. I’d looked over when he was a quarter of the ways up, and I swear not even 10 seconds later(maybe 5), he was at the top. He then stopped, turned around and stared straight at me. I heard Dave start barking again, and then I continued back the way we’d came, very keen on leaving ASAP. We had less than a mile or so to walk, and unfortunately, there didn’t look to be a single other soul walking the beach this morning. I found myself looking behind every few yards, and the first couple of times I did this I saw the man still up on the cliffs.

When I eventually looked back and didn’t see him, I suddenly felt this sinking feeling in my gut. I had to get back to my car as soon as possible because even with all this open space, that man and I are still the only two people on this beach.

I started to run(as fast as one can on soft sand) and Dave matches speed with me. When we were maybe one hundred feet from the parking lot, I looked behind me again. Still no sign of the man, but my gut was strongly arguing otherwise.

As our feet hit the parking lot pavement, I unlock my car. Then, Dave stops and stares off at the edge of the woods, across the parking lot. I tell her ‘no’ again and keep moving forward, too scared to look at the time. My car’s so close you can read the license plate.

I heard leaves and branches rustling, followed by a galloping footfall that echoes across the lot. Now I look over and see the man on all fours, running straight for us. Dave started barking again - but he also started to move along with me.

Fortunately, I was much closer to my car than he was. I ushered Dave inside, followed suit and started the car. The massive parking lot was completely empty except for my car, so I put it in drive and sped out of there. As I was approaching the exit, I checked the rear view mirror and saw him in pursuit, still on all fours. Dave was watching him intently out the trunk window.

I lost sight of him after a turn in the road not long after. At the end of this road is an information station/admission gate, which had an empty parking lot when I passed by earlier. Now, there were two rangers parked there and other faculty. I saw that one of the rangers was in her truck and pulled up right beside to her.

At that moment I realized that what I was about to tell her sounded absolutely ridiculous, so I kept out the part about how I found this guy eating a dead deer. I only told her that some wacko in full ski getup chased me on all fours and was barking at my dog. She laughed at this and I forced myself to do the same. She then repeated what I said back to me, and I confirmed. She laughed again and said “Alright, I’ll head down there right now.”

I don’t think she even believed this partial truth, because our interaction was seriously that brief. After she’d said that, we bid each other a good rest of the day and that was that.

Never heard, read or otherwise learned anything else about… whatever all that was. I haven’t gone for a walk there with Dave nor anyone else ever since either, unless it was during the day and the beach was busy. Even then, though, I don’t like being there. Not anymore. I always get the feeling I’m being watched, and find myself frequently scanning the tops of the sand cliffs.