My Encounter With the Eel People

This blog post is less of a tip and more of just a funny, sketchy story about eel people. Buckle in, buckaroo!

I had been driving for hours down the 101 - the highway that runs the coastline from Southern California up to Canada. Gorgeous ride that I highly recommend for any road trip. I was with my friend Rachel who told me just that morning- at the very start of our camping road trip- that she had never gone camping before. This detail is important because usually people who have never gone camping before need to be introduced in any other way than the way I had planned. See, I am a huge fan of dispersed camping for two reasons:

1. I’m a spontaneous person, also known as a poor planner

2. It’s free

Rachel and me on a hike the night before heading out on our road trip. Look how happy and ignorant we are of the FEAR that was to come in the next 36 hours.

We made it to the Redwoods!

You can read more about dispersed camping here if you’re interested. It can be quite intimidating if you’re new to camping like Rachel was. Dispersed camping has unknown factors and a lack of predictability. If it’s a brand new location for you, you have no clue what it’s going to be like until you’re actually there! That can be extremely fun, but it can also be quite anxiety-provoking.

Back at it. Rach and I drove through Northern California taking the scenic route. My plan was to find a campsite for the night by the Red Woods and head south the next day. Rachel pictured a pre-planned campsite in a dedicated campground. I envisioned something vastly different.

We decided to look up some campsites to ease her mind. Since it was July, every single campsite we looked up was booked, which is no surprise. So we started to look for dispersed camping sites. 

A lot of dispersed campsites we looked at were not very tent-friendly. The search continued!

Here’s where I went wrong. I should have decided on where to camp. We kept finding certain spots that just didn’t make sense or make Rachel feel at ease. I already felt bad about her never camping before and throwing her into this experience head first. I wanted to do everything I could to make it a group decision. But here’s what I learned: no dispersed campsite will seem sufficient or safe to someone who has never camped before because they all seem sketchy as heck. 

In hindsight, I went wrong way before that. What I really should have done was reserve campsites six months in advance to ensure we had a place to set up. But alas, I did not. So here we were, searching for a place that made Rachel feel safe during her first night in a tent. The options were slim. 

Eventually, night fell and we were still driving the 101, attempting to find a place to sleep. We needed to set up because the longer we delayed, the worse the weather conditions and our exhaustion would be. We agreed on a site close to the ocean down a near-single lane dirt road. 

It was pitch black out by the time we arrived at the GPS coordinates. Everything was wet and we could only see to the extent of our headlamps. We set up camp, but something seemed wonky about where we were. Rachel had bad vibes, but I attributed that to the straight-up fear I put her through of not having a dedicated place to sleep. We got into the tent- my single-person backpacking tent, may I add, which is a whole other story- exhausted and more than a bit overwhelmed. Raindrops started to pitter-patter on the tent. We zipped up the tent door, snuggled into our sleeping bags, and finally laid down for some rest. It wasn’t until after we turned our headlamps off that we saw the streaks of light shining into the walls of our tent. 

We weren’t alone. 

Rachel and I froze and stared at each other in utter silence. I grabbed the machete (yes, a machete, a friend lent it to me, don’t ask) and got up to see what the *#$& was happening. I unzipped the tent flap to assess. In the darkness, not one but two pillars of light tremored between the ground and towards our tent. OUR TENT! They- whoever they were- could see us with their flashlights. all I could see were two beams of light cutting through rain. The light source, and more notably their handlers, were only about 150 meters away, approaching slowly but not cautiously, heading in our direction. When they got a little closer, I decided to return the illumination and turned on my headlamp. Two silhouettes were in the oncoming distance. Upon closer look, each figure was dressed head to toe in black. Both people held a nine-foot-long, thin black metal pole. When I got a better glance I realized they weren’t just holding poles- they were holding spears.

A chill started at the nape of my neck. My body froze as my mind raced with thoughts. I’m holding a machete, but I don’t know how to use it. I don’t know how to defend myself against spears. Who are these creeps? What do they want? Are they going to hurt us? Why are they dressed in black? SPEARS?! WHAT THE……

Before I knew it, the two figures, both men, were only a mere ten feet away from the tent. 

“Looks like you two girls found a good camp spot,” said one of the men. His voice was gruff and aged. Then unprompted added, “Hey, do you want to see some eels?”

Now, I know what you’re thinking, because that was my thought too. I thought that man was about to disrobe right then and there! 

“Umm, what?” Was the only thing I could muster.

“Eels. Here, look,” and he stuck out a five-gallon bucket full of squirming eels! EELS! I was dumbstruck. Just... speechless. It was not a euphemism after all, but a literal question. I nearly peed my pants out of both fear and relief.

“Ya gotta go at night because that’s when they’re active,” the second, more juvenile voice explained. “We got quite the load tonight!” 

We bantered back and forth for a little while like the whole situation wasn’t initially terrifying for us or unusual in general. They headed back to their truck to head home. Rachel and I just looked at each other and laughed at the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. We were in a field, in a single-person tent, and just happened to run into two late-night eel hunters holding very intimidating-looking spears.  

The situation turned out to be fairly nonthreatening, but it was still a little too much to take. Though the men seemed nice, they hung around their truck with the lights on for a bit too long for comfort. I don’t know if it’s survival instincts or the residual effects of seeing two men approach the tent with spears- a scenario I had never been in or even imagined possible- but we had the heebie jeebies. We packed up and drove to an RV park we happened to pass down the same dirt road a few miles up. 

Our sad little tent at the RV park the morning after seeing the eel people

For the sake of curiosity, Rachel and I returned to the site in the morning and found a trail that led to the ocean. What we saw was one of the most beautiful natural occurrences I’ve ever seen. Hundreds of sea lions were all calling to each other on the sand. I am so sorry but I cannot tell you where it was because I simply don’t know. It has to be somewhere where eel hunting is legal??? A world I am not privy to. I looked it up on a map and couldn’t find it, and it's not saved in my search history on the camping app I use. A tragedy. 

If anyone can tell me where this is, please do! This is the only distinguishable photo I have from that spot! I have scoured Google maps and can't find an exact match

All in all, we survived a frightening situation. We were safe but learned some valuable lessons: 

1. Plan out camping spots ahead of time, especially with first-time campers. Poor Rachel. I felt terrible about it and traumatized her the very first night. To her credit, she persevered. By the end of the trip, she was an expert camper! Even though it started very sketchy, she didn’t quit, and I give her all the praise for it. 

2. Trust your gut. We would have probably been fine, but you never know. Those men were probably harmless, or they could have speared us (highly unlikely, but not impossible). 

3. Eel hunting is a thing and people do it with spears

4. If you are going to camp in the Red Woods in July, you better plan ahead

the aforementioned headlamp that was meek compaired to the eel hunter's flashlights

I truly hope the eel people know how engrained into my memory our interaction is. They scared me half to death and looked like they were members of a murderous cult in the dead of night. But in reality, they were just having a grand ol’ time spearing eels to show to surprised campers. And now, Rachel has an epic story of her first night of camping!

To stay true to my theme of “Tiff’s Travel Tips,” my advice to you is that it’s really really really hard and scary to try new things. Do it anyway. It makes you learn and grow. It makes you brave. And more often than not, you’ll get a good story out of it!

Another tip is maybe don't engage with men holding spears on a dark rainy night. Or do, what do I know; I was fine. Or maybe even try eel hunting if that's your jam! If you do, and you see two young women who look like they don't know what they're doing, give them some reassurance that you are a kind fellow human who just enjoys spearing eels in their free time.

Thanks for reading about my misadventures with dispersed camping and eel people. I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any comments, questions, or general concern for my wellbeing (talking to you, mom), leave a comment or send me a message :-) Catch ya later!