During an autumn backpacking trip along the Resurrection Pass Trail system stretching from the Girdwood/Indian area toward Eagle River, a medical professional named Bailey and her younger brother Brian set up camp in a remote valley pocket. After hearing an identical series of sharp, crisp whistles tracing their trek, they pitched a bright neon yellow-green dome tent within a grove of black spruce and willow trees. At twilight, an immense vocalization arced up from the opposite slope—a slow, winding air-raid siren scream that reverberated down the valley walls, forcing them to cover their ears. Uncomfortable, Brian loaded his .44 Magnum lever-action rifle.
Within thirty minutes, a deep, continuous, and exceptionally loud bipedal grunting and branch-crashing progression began working its way directly down the ridge shelf toward their site. Terrified, the siblings abandoned their tent, grabbed their daypacks, and backtracked down the dark trail, cupping their flashlight beams to obscure their location. The entity accelerated its pursuit, transitioning into high-pitched whoops and an undocumented, complex 'garbled talk' pattern that sounded distinctly native and multi-creature in nature. Seeking high ground, they climbed a 7-foot rocky spire adjacent to the path and cut their lights.
From their vantage point 80 yards away, they watched a massive silhouette—blacker than the night darkness and standing well over 10 feet tall—deliberately trample their camp and violently hurl their entire tent dome across the trail width. The aggressive entity then executed a deliberate stalking walk up the trail, its heavy urine and rotten meat odor preceding it. The creature stood perfectly parallel to their rock spire less than 15 feet away; hearing the siblings weeping, its energy shifted to a curious stance before it turned and melted silently back into the timber channel.
