These shares involve cabins and cabin projects—remote log places, inherited structures, and getaways where something outside, at the walls, or in the dark around the building will not leave people alone.
Common threads are fixed shelters, nights under siege, repairs interrupted, and families or work crews who expected quiet bush time. Browse these shares if you want cabin-centered harassment, not only trail sightings.
An experienced interior wilderness trapper with twenty years on the Kuskokwim River drainage abruptly terminated his business after a terrifying multi-day encounter loop. While running his 10-mile oval line on a Skidoo Tundra snowmachine, he discovered several traps systematically sprung with zero target catches; strangely, the surrounding snowpack had been meticulously scrubbed with fresh spruce boughs to purposefully erase any track marks.
A couple named Isaac and Marcy, along with their yellow lab Jesse, reserved a remote day cabin near Lynx Lake within the Nancy Lake State Recreation Area between Big Lake and Willow. While hiking an un-frozen shoreline trail during the autumn season, a sudden, absolute silence dropped over the forest canopy, prompting Isaac to prudently turn the party back out of bear caution.
Jonathan, a 30-year resident of a remote forested property situated within the Wasilla-Willow corridor, was ambushed by a pair of massive Sasquatch entities while executing nighttime supply runs from his vehicle to his cabin. Transporting an awkward bulk package of Costco toilet paper balanced on his left shoulder, Jonathan heard heavy brush-crashing seamlessly parallel his step just feet away inside the pitch-black thicket. Hit by an unprecedented wave of absolute dread, he left the package on the trail and retreated to secure a 10mm Glock pistol.
Two years prior to 2022, a couple named Jesse and Monica purchased an uncompleted 10x12 Caribou cabin kit on the outskirts of Fairbanks to insulate and use as a rural starter house. Located a half-mile down a private driveway off the main road, the site was surrounded by dense, un-cleared timber and willow thickets. While setting up a wood stove on a weekend visit during a light autumn snow dusting, the couple began hearing a loud, exceptionally crisp, and snappy 'clicking' noise that occurred at a strict, regular cadence of every two to three seconds.
In the 1990s, a Bristol Bay native named Joseph was left alone to overnight inside an unfinished, windowless log cabin frame under construction on the west bank of the Nushagak River, roughly 40 feet from a steep riverbank cut. After executing a secure, bear-aware camp cleanup, Joseph heard an anomalous, interactive series of 'imitation wolf howls' echoing from several miles deep in the timber line. Sitting on the entrance logs at dusk, a severe 'glass-dome' silence enveloped the tree line, and the vocalizations re-emerged less than 200 yards out.
Ten years prior to 2022, two brothers, Jim and James, began constructing a remote 5-acre cabin cabin in the interior of Alaska, south of Fairbanks and north of Wasilla. During the building phase, they experienced recurring bear-like encroachments, forcing them to adopt a hyper-vigilant 'two-person always' security protocol. While James was left alone at the cabin to overnight, he began hearing a persistent 'click-click' sound originating from the walls of the windowless log shell.
Greg, who lives in Europe, used to spend a lot of money to fly his dogs and equipment to Alaska to participate in the Iditarod. About five years ago, while training a few months prior to the race, he and fellow team members stopped a few miles outside of Rainy Pass to camp out in an area with multiple available cabins before continuing the next day. That night, his dogs were huddled together in fear and kept moving around the cabin away from something outside.
John, a long-time trapper, had to cut short his trapping season once he realized what was stealing from his traps. As he decided to hunker down at his remote cabin until his resupply plane came through, he was surrounded by three Sasquatches attempting to intimidate him. They failed and John instead went on offense.
Four years after the terrifying standoff in the Tongass National Forest, Thomas traveled deep into the remote Copper River Valley to help his friend build a cabin on a Native allotment plot. The peaceful construction project took a dark turn when Thomas discovered his friend had been casually dumping food scraps behind the tree line, inadvertently feeding and habituating a local Hairy Man. Thomas immediately warned him about the extreme danger of creating dependency, but the warning came too late.
Inspired by legendary wilderness survivalists, Jacob set out to hand-build a remote homestead cabin near Lake Clark, north of Iliamna. What began as a peaceful five-year plan slowly unraveled over three seasons. In year three, the subtle harassment escalated into a targeted siege. After returning from a hike to find fresh, massive footprints heading directly down the trail toward his campsite, Jacob found his canvas tent smashed and his partially constructed log cabin violently twisted off its foundation.
A veteran 92-year-old trapper recounts a terrifying ordeal from the twilight of his trapping career in 1984, northeast of Bethel in the remote Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta. Relying on an isolated backup cabin he typically avoided due to eerie sounds in the distance, his trapping season began smoothly—until he discovered his newly set wolverine traps repeatedly sprung and empty, reeking of a potent, musty ammonia odor.
This share is an encounter experienced by a couple, Tom and Mary, while setting up their commercial set-net fish camp in Bristol Bay. Being the first to arrive for the season, they were alone on the remote beach when they began hearing strange, moose-like calls and noticing dark figures darting between the massive rocks along the shoreline. Their curiosity quickly turned into terror when they realized they were being actively stalked by at least three entities—one standing over ten feet tall, a smaller scraggly creature, and a massive black shape maneuvering along the bluff above them.
Former cabin builder Jeff shares his story about encountering The Hairy Man while building a remote cabin for a wealthy client. He experienced this encounter with an assistant named Art, a native gentleman from up north who had a previous encounter of his own with The Hairy Man.
This encounter shared by former Alaskan Don is one of the saddest I've recounted so far on this channel, especially for dog lovers. This story also supports the case that The Hairy Man is no friend of ours, and as recounted in stories all over, they have a real disdain for man's best friend.
This encounter involved a trio on the Yentna River at the end of caribou hunting season in 2019 while trout fishing.
