FrankTroutAngler
Active member
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2009
- Messages
- 339
I posted an abbreviated version of this unbelievable encounter on here a year or two ago but have now fleshed it out. I thought maybe some new members one here would enjoy reading this in the middle of the winter when they have little else to do.
Close Encounter with Extra Terrestrials
But nothing like this had ever happened to me, at least not until a fateful day in the mid 1980’s.
I was fishing Centre County’s Spring Creek a few hundred yards downstream from the Benner Spring Research Station on a hot, muggy afternoon in late August. Although no mayflies were hatching from the water, the place was swarming with fly-fishermen. They were likely fishing terrestrial insect patterns.
Gradually the sky darkened, and a thunderstorm could be heard in the distance. This was before the days of cell phones where you could simply check weather radar for approaching storms. When an outlier bolt of lightning hit nearby the fly-anglers scattered for their trucks like as if a sleuth of grizzly bears had suddenly emerged from the woods. My car was parked about a mile upstream at the ghost town of Rock, so retreating to my vehicle was not an option. Besides, I had ninety-eight trout that I had caught recorded in my little notepad and wanted to fish a little longer.
Since I did not have raingear, I decided to ascend the steep ridge along the stream’s left bank where I had seen some limestone outcroppings years earlier when the leaves were off the trees. I hoped I could find shelter. Just as the rain started to fall, I found a small overhang, and after checking for snakes, crawled under it.
The refuge was small, and my hip boots stuck out beyond the ledge, but that did not matter. I placed my graphite rod flat on the ground to not attract lightning, then got quite comfortable on my back in the dry leaves as rain pounded the forest floor.
Next thing I knew I was sitting upright looking down at the open meadow on the other side of the creek. I looked at my watch and noticed over two hours had passed. Like many people who have had close encounters, I could not account for the lost time, unless I fell asleep.
The storm had long passed, though wisps of fog drifted eerily through the trees on the far side of the clearing. No one else was around. I felt a quiet calm.
Spring Creek was high and muddy. Only a willow limb lapping rhythmically against the high water, making a repetitious splashing sound, broke the silence.
A lone ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the meadow below me. There I spotted a silver metallic object, seemingly hoovering over the sedges. Rain drops glistened on its silvery surface.
I looked at it in wonderment for a couple minutes trying to identify it. It looked huge through my new pair of miniature, high-powered binoculars that I had recently purchased to carry while fishing to view wildlife up close, such as women skinny dipping. I recalled, though, that on the prior day I had used them to look at a soda bottle floating downstream. The bottle looked like it was two liters in size but turned out to be only a half liter. Therefore, I was uncertain of its size.
Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I gathered up my rod and slid down the steep bank to the stream. There I carefully crossed the swollen creek in a wide riffle and made my way over to the mysterious object.
As I approached, I realized it was much smaller than I had envisioned. I reached down and picked it up. It was a fly box, likely lost by one of the fly-anglers as they scrambled for cover. It was one of those fly boxes that had an individual clip for each fly. Every clip held an ant, grasshopper, caterpillar, cricket, or beetle, but there in the corner, lying loose, were three extra terrestrials.
Close Encounter with Extra Terrestrials
With all the news lately about UFO’s (Unidentified Flying Objects) and UAP (Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena), culminating in November with the second joint subcommittee hearings with several whistleblowers before the United States Congress titled, “Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena – Exposing the Truth,” I feel I can now share a close encounter I had with extra terrestrials back in the mid 1980’s. I would have shared this story sooner but have not for fear of ridicule, a common deterrent for people who have had face to face encounters. Although this occurred many years ago, I can still recall the details like as if it happened yesterday.
Before getting into the narrative, I believe full discloser is in order. I have been a believer in life on other planets and UFO’s ever since I was ten years old or so after reading a magazine my brother bought in the late 1960’s entitled, “The UFO Enigma.” It had stories and photographs by credible witnesses who had seen UFO’s. In some cases, physical evidence was left behind to corroborate the stories, such as a hole in the ice where a UFO was seen hovering over a reservoir, or imprints in the ground where a UFO landed in the forest.
For years I spent some of my strawberry-picking money and bought every UFO book that I could find. I recall reading them in junior high while class was in session by hiding the book inside my textbook. I was totally enthralled by the whole UFO phenomenon.
When I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time searching the night sky with my dad’s binoculars hoping to spot a UFO. My younger sister was also quite interested and sometimes joined me. Late one crisp winter night she looked out of her bedroom window and saw a white light about the size of a large star slowly moving across the sky. Suddenly it stopped and four or five smaller white lights emerged from it and circled around it, like electrons around an atom. After about a minute they merged back into the larger light, and it shot off into the night sky like a bullet.
Before getting into the narrative, I believe full discloser is in order. I have been a believer in life on other planets and UFO’s ever since I was ten years old or so after reading a magazine my brother bought in the late 1960’s entitled, “The UFO Enigma.” It had stories and photographs by credible witnesses who had seen UFO’s. In some cases, physical evidence was left behind to corroborate the stories, such as a hole in the ice where a UFO was seen hovering over a reservoir, or imprints in the ground where a UFO landed in the forest.
For years I spent some of my strawberry-picking money and bought every UFO book that I could find. I recall reading them in junior high while class was in session by hiding the book inside my textbook. I was totally enthralled by the whole UFO phenomenon.
When I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time searching the night sky with my dad’s binoculars hoping to spot a UFO. My younger sister was also quite interested and sometimes joined me. Late one crisp winter night she looked out of her bedroom window and saw a white light about the size of a large star slowly moving across the sky. Suddenly it stopped and four or five smaller white lights emerged from it and circled around it, like electrons around an atom. After about a minute they merged back into the larger light, and it shot off into the night sky like a bullet.
But nothing like this had ever happened to me, at least not until a fateful day in the mid 1980’s.
I was fishing Centre County’s Spring Creek a few hundred yards downstream from the Benner Spring Research Station on a hot, muggy afternoon in late August. Although no mayflies were hatching from the water, the place was swarming with fly-fishermen. They were likely fishing terrestrial insect patterns.
Gradually the sky darkened, and a thunderstorm could be heard in the distance. This was before the days of cell phones where you could simply check weather radar for approaching storms. When an outlier bolt of lightning hit nearby the fly-anglers scattered for their trucks like as if a sleuth of grizzly bears had suddenly emerged from the woods. My car was parked about a mile upstream at the ghost town of Rock, so retreating to my vehicle was not an option. Besides, I had ninety-eight trout that I had caught recorded in my little notepad and wanted to fish a little longer.
Since I did not have raingear, I decided to ascend the steep ridge along the stream’s left bank where I had seen some limestone outcroppings years earlier when the leaves were off the trees. I hoped I could find shelter. Just as the rain started to fall, I found a small overhang, and after checking for snakes, crawled under it.
The refuge was small, and my hip boots stuck out beyond the ledge, but that did not matter. I placed my graphite rod flat on the ground to not attract lightning, then got quite comfortable on my back in the dry leaves as rain pounded the forest floor.
Next thing I knew I was sitting upright looking down at the open meadow on the other side of the creek. I looked at my watch and noticed over two hours had passed. Like many people who have had close encounters, I could not account for the lost time, unless I fell asleep.
The storm had long passed, though wisps of fog drifted eerily through the trees on the far side of the clearing. No one else was around. I felt a quiet calm.
Spring Creek was high and muddy. Only a willow limb lapping rhythmically against the high water, making a repetitious splashing sound, broke the silence.
A lone ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the meadow below me. There I spotted a silver metallic object, seemingly hoovering over the sedges. Rain drops glistened on its silvery surface.
I looked at it in wonderment for a couple minutes trying to identify it. It looked huge through my new pair of miniature, high-powered binoculars that I had recently purchased to carry while fishing to view wildlife up close, such as women skinny dipping. I recalled, though, that on the prior day I had used them to look at a soda bottle floating downstream. The bottle looked like it was two liters in size but turned out to be only a half liter. Therefore, I was uncertain of its size.
Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I gathered up my rod and slid down the steep bank to the stream. There I carefully crossed the swollen creek in a wide riffle and made my way over to the mysterious object.
As I approached, I realized it was much smaller than I had envisioned. I reached down and picked it up. It was a fly box, likely lost by one of the fly-anglers as they scrambled for cover. It was one of those fly boxes that had an individual clip for each fly. Every clip held an ant, grasshopper, caterpillar, cricket, or beetle, but there in the corner, lying loose, were three extra terrestrials.
