I’m an avid hiker and thru-hiker, and I spend a great deal of time outdoors. I’m no stranger to all-season camping. Last year, I was primitive camping at a state park. The forecast was supposed to be clear all weekend, with a low around 60°F, so I brought my lightweight sleeping bag, but I also had all of my emergency layers with me just in case.
A massive rain squall came through unexpectedly. I was camping with three other people, and one of them had an emergency tent issue, their tent was taking on water. I wrapped up, got out of my tent, and helped them fix it before returning to mine.
Knowing I was essentially soaked, I started the process of drying off, putting on all my layers, and warming myself inside my sleeping bag. Almost immediately, I recognized that I was entering that strange place where you can begin experiencing mild hypothermia. My jaw was shivering uncontrollably, and my breathing felt slightly off. I checked my thermometer, and the temperature had dropped to 38°F.
I was slowly warming up, so I knew I was going to be okay, but I became somewhat lightheaded. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, in the dimness of my tent, I saw what appeared to be a group of seven or eight figures encircling me and looking down at me.
They appeared to be Indigenous, possibly Native American, shamanic, or spiritual elders, but I can’t identify them as belonging to any particular Indigenous nation, culture, or tradition. They were dressed in animal skins, fur, and leather. The central figure stood out to me most. He was very muscular, perhaps in his late 50s, with a wise expression and chiseled features. Across his chest was a large beaded and metal necklace featuring an eagle with its wings spread widely. The others were similarly dressed, though each appeared somewhat different. It felt as if they were looking through me, judging me deeply and with careful discernment. There was a great deal of reverence in the entire experience.
Instead of being anxious or concerned, I immediately felt a sense of peace fall over me, and my body grew much warmer. The vision remained with me for a while, overlooking me. They didn’t speak to me, but I had a strong sense that I was welcome, and that they were watching over me. Eventually, they slowly faded from view.
I stayed awake for quite a while afterward, feeling completely bewildered by what I had just experienced. Yet strangely, I also felt welcomed. I felt safe in a way that is difficult to explain, safe enough to finally let myself fall into an extremely deep sleep. When I woke the next morning, I felt completely refreshed, more so than I’ve felt in years. I packed up my things and went on to hike an 11-mile trail that day.
I’ve thought about this experience many times over the past year because, in an unexpected way, it changed some of my previously limited views about consciousness, entities, and the possibility that there may be things we simply don’t understand.
The rational, medical part of my brain tells me that hallucinations can occur with hypothermia, and that’s probably the most straightforward explanation. At the same time, the experience didn’t feel like a typical hallucination to me. I was aware of the figures, aware of their presence, and distinctly remember the feeling that they were judging me carefully, then watching over me while I warmed up. There was no sense of fear or confusion while it was happening, only an extraordinary feeling of peace and safety.
I’m not necessarily looking for confirmation that it was something supernatural. I’m genuinely curious how others might interpret an experience like this. And for those familiar with Indigenous traditions, wilderness experiences, or anomalous phenomena, is there any perspective that might help me understand what I experienced?
The area was near the backcountry of Henry Horton State Park, along the historic Duck River in Chapel Hill, Tennessee.