After this event, he believes that time travel can be completely real and spontaneous, that is, sudden and imperceptible to the traveler himself.
Below I give his story.
I have always loved nature. I was lucky enough to be born in the great Pacific Northwest, more specifically the Western Washington Cascades. My father and I spent most of the early years of my life exploring the mountains, fishing and hunting.
Some places in the Cascades I know like the back of my hand. One such place is called Goblin Creek, up the Index-Galima Road off Highway 2.
When I was a kid, we used to go there to fish and shoot, and to collect a special kind of rock that, when cut in half and polished, resembled a picturesque picture depicting a view of the mountains from the cave.
I don’t remember the real name of these stones, we just called them “picture stones”. My father’s friend and neighbor owned an art gallery/mineral store that used to be a church.
If you’ve ever driven through Startup on Highway 2 from Sultan to Goldbar, you may remember seeing the robot sculpture outside the store my father built. This is where we were selling the stone for $2 a pound. It was a lucrative income for a teenager.
The walk from the stream where we collected stones to the dirt road was not particularly long, but long enough that one could get lost along the way if one did not know where to go. In all the years that we spent at this stream, I saw only two other people there.
One of them is the warden who heard the shots during our target practice and sought us out to make sure everything was in order. The other is the subject of my curiosity.
When I was about 14 years old, I distinctly remember lugging a backpack full of these rocks from the creek to my dad’s truck. On the way, I ran into a man who appeared to be in his 30s.
We both seemed surprised that we might run into someone in this rather remote part of the mountains, but as I approached this person (he was heading down to the stream, I was heading up to the road), he seemed became more and more frightened, as if he had seen a ghost.
He didn’t say anything as I passed by, he just looked at me, trying to find the right words to ask me something.
As I walked past him, I remember thinking how much this guy looked like someone who could be in my family, the resemblance was striking. I continued on to the truck, unloaded my load of stone onto the truck, and headed back to the river, to my father.
When I arrived, I told him about the meeting and asked if he had seen this man, to which he replied that he had not. Since then, I remember this meeting very vividly.
Last year I was visiting my family in Snohomish and decided to go to old Goblin Creek for nostalgic purposes. It’s been about 15 years since I was last there. On the way there, I learned that the Index-Galima road had been washed away a few years ago, fortunately I knew another way there via Jack Pass.
I found a dirt road, parked where my father used to park, and continued walking through the woods to the stream. On the way, I saw something that shocked me to the core. When I was about half way through the woods, I was startled to see someone else coming from the stream, a boy of about 14.
He was wearing a backpack that appeared to be weighed down with a heavy load. As we got closer, I became more and more embarrassed and shocked that the boy looked exactly like me at his age. I wanted to say something to him as he walked by, but I couldn’t find the right words to express what I was thinking at the moment.
He walked past me and walked on. I walked a little and finally stopped, and then it dawned on me.
I remembered an encounter as a teenager and realized that I had just lived through the second half of this experience!
Both the man and the boy were me, only about 15 years apart! I turned around to catch up with the boy in the thick woods of Western Washington. I ran all the way back to the road where my truck was parked and found nothing.
He had nowhere to go but the road, and I didn’t slow down long enough to be unable to catch up with him. It just wasn’t there. Curiosity got the better of me and I hurried down to the creek, half expecting to find my father on the bank, who was 15 years younger fishing, but found no one.
I ended up going home and decided the experience was too incredible to tell friends and family about.
Contact us: [email protected]