“Why on earth would anyone want to sit out on that cold ice all day just to catch a bluegill?” my dad used to always say.

To be fair, I agreed with him for a long time. We would posture with each other about how we just didn’t like being cold just to catch a puny fish but in reality, our macho-headedness wouldn’t allow us to admit that we were actually afraid. My dad had good reason. His best friend’s father fell through the ice one time and darn-near ripped is fingernails off just trying to get back up to safety. As a kid, anything that scares your dad… your 6ft+, broad shouldered, invincible dad, will also scare you.

Fast forward to today and I can’t stay off the ice. It started with a friend asking me to go fishing with him. As a 27 year old man from the country, there is no way I could admit fear. In fact, I met this friend in the weight room. I couldn’t let my trepidation of falling through the ice shatter the tough guy façade of a muscle-bound gym bro. It turned out to be a great time. The anticipation of a fishing swimming right below your feet under the solid barrier of ice and inhaling your lure or bait was the perfect excuse to get out of the house when things are at their most dull during the winter.

As with all outdoor activities, there’s always a certain indescribable mystique that surrounds you when you’re on the ice. Sitting in the middle of a barren, snow-blown lake allows you to be very aware of the harsh surroundings. I had a rule for a long time to only go ice fishing if I had a partner. The dangers abound: falling through the ice, flash blizzards, wrecking on the unkempt back roads, etc. As life goes, friends got busy, and I started going solo against my better judgement.

I couldn’t tell you why I decided to go to the lake I did that day. Every other lake in the county would have had at the very least one other angler to give me some semblance of safety. I guess I just wanted to be alone. I pulled into the parking lot knowing that it would be empty and gathered all my equipment in my sled. I trekked out to a familiar weed line and drilled a few holes. Hours ticked by but not a single bite.

I listened to the wind howling over the ridge top as it passed through the massive windmills that were cool to me as a kid but now were simply an eyesore on every mountain. The lake was in a valley and the mounts reached to the sky in every direction, almost like stands in a sports stadium As the day went on, the temperature dropped slowly, and the wind brought in light flurries that turned to a steady snow. I switched to a lure that I could work with some vigor just to try and keep my hands warm as my fingertips were now starting to sting as the cold worked its way through my winter gloves.

I was so supremely focused on the action I was imparting on my lure that I never saw him walk out on the ice. As I was reaching for my thermos to take a swig of hot coffee, I noticed him standing on the opposite side of the lake. It wasn’t an altogether odd occurrence that he made it on the ice without me noticing. I was, after all, pretty deep in thought and focus. The first thing that struck me about him was how he just stared at me. It was almost like I could feel him looking into my eyes even though he was a quarter mile away.

I shook my head and wondered why it had bothered me so much. I often stared at other people when out fishing too. Mostly to see if they were catching anything but also just because boredom sets in incredibly fast if you’re not having any action. I was more than likely already on edge because of my continued fear of falling through the ice anyways. I went back to focusing on my fish sonar and waited for a bite.

The wind blew harder and to counter the uncomfortableness I reached in my sled for the best part of the trip. I pulled out one of those Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes and began to unwrap it. I wait all year for those sweet diet bombs to come out and horde them once they do. As I sat, munching on my cake, I looked around at the increasing volume of snow falling from the sky. That’s when I realized he had moved. Not only closer to me but also closer to the woods line. Almost like he was trying to get behind me. Although the sun was low and the overcast sky made it seem an hour later than it really was, I could still see him staring directly at me. His silhouette was getting lost in the darkness of the woods but I could make out that he was a thinner man with a slight hunch.

Any misgivings I had of comfort were now shattered. I immediately started packing up. I wasn’t trying to rush, as I knew he was looking my way and I didn’t want things to escalate any higher. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder and that’s when I saw him on a full out sprint over the ice. I said ‘to hell’ with my gear and started running myself. You move very slow on the ice, much like in a dream, especially when you’re weighed down with a full snowsuit on. I was full blown panicking at this point and wishing that I was a bit more like every other redneck in my town and carrying a pistol. Unfortunately, mine was safely in a lock box at home.

I had my eyes peeled on my truck in the parking lot and realized there wasn’t another car there. This meant that he must have been from one of the 3 or 4 cabins that were up on the mountainside tucked in the woods. I didn’t know if he wasn’t happy that I was on “his” lake or if he was just a nut. Either way, I had to look back and see how close he was. He was gaining, and fast, because he was only in a flannel and jeans. Although he had to have been freezing, he was also less weighed down and was moving much more agile than I.

As my feel left the ice and hit the ramp, I could now hear his breathing behind me off in the distance. He was close but I felt comfortable enough that I would make it to the truck in time. Just as I slammed the door and threw it in reverse, he full body checked my passenger side door. Both his hand slapped at my window as he screamed at me as if in a manic episode. His eyes did not change from the same cold stare and I completely froze for a moment looking directly at him. I quickly snapped back and peeled out of the lot. The roads were now snow covered and I fishtailed a bit but ultimately was out of harms way as he faded into my side view mirror. I slowed down as to not wreck and was able to gather my thoughts a bit. It was then I realized what he was screaming at me during our close encounter.

“You have to leave before dark! It comes out at dark! You’re not safe! You’re not safe! You’re not safe!”

There is plenty of undiagnosed mental heath cases in Appalachia. The people are remote and healthcare, especially mental healthcare, isn’t always readily available. There is also a deep history of supernatural happenings and beings in the mountains. I’ve been going back and forth all night trying to figure out if that man was an unfortunate victim of a mental health crisis or a concerned local who was trying to protect me. I’m not sure where I land at the moment, but I have to say, my curiosity is getting the better of me.