In 1984, when I was 17 years old, my entire family and I drove up to Kern County, California

to go off-road camping for a long weekend.

We arrived at our destination and found a dirt road that went off the highway

into a ravine that was a beautiful shaded area and it was up against the Kern River.

It was surrounded by lots of trees and there was a nice little creek that broke off from the main river

and it flowed right in front of our camping spot and then it curved

down the ravine the same way the main river was flowing. There were 20 of us in

five vehicles. We set up our tents and made lunch.

Afterwards we cleaned up and half the family went white water rafting

while the other half went to find a local grocery store

to replenish our food supply.

I stayed behind and decided to read a book under the shade of the trees.

The wind was blowing just enough to turn all the leaves into a million little fans, making it very comfortable to sit and relax on a hot day.

After about an hour, I decided I should bathe while the family was still gone.

I gathered up my things and walked about 30 yards

down the little creek, about 25 feet down from the highway to a nice little pool that looked

ideal for the job. There were a lot of trees and bushes to conceal me

from any passing motorists, and I quickly got in the water and started washing. After a few minutes

I got the worst feeling of dread I have ever felt in my life.

The feeling of being watched intently was so powerful I could barely breathe.

I panned the surrounding trees and bushes, but I didn't see anything.

I got out of the water and gathered up my things and walked the 30 yards back to the

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