This is something that happened to me a few days ago and I’m telling this story to warn others of this disgusting and dangerous man.

I’m a woman in my mid-twenties who lives alone with my dog, Chambers. On weekends, I like to take walks first thing in the morning. Since I don’t have to go to work, I drive out of town to peaceful trails, to get away from the noise of cars, construction, and crowds. On this particular morning, as I drove into the trail’s parking lot, I noticed it was nearly empty, except for one other car. I didn’t think anything of it since I do tend to wake up much earlier than most people.

Regardless, I parked the car and we started our walk on the trail. The route itself can take a couple of hours to complete, depending on which path you follow. I was ready to walk the longest loop. Roughly twenty minutes into the walk, Chambers’ ears perked up when we heard a man’s voice carry across the trail. As we got closer, we could see a ragged man talking loudly to an older couple. Straight away, I noticed the man’s unsettling demeanor. First, he looked dirty and unkempt, as if he hadn’t changed clothes or taken a shower in weeks. Second, he seemed like the type to trap people in one-sided conversations, monologuing on whether anyone wanted to listen or not. I knew this because the older couple seemed uncomfortable — clearly looking for an exit. Unfortunately, that exit was me.

When the man noticed me, he ended his conversation with the couple, and they broke free. Seeing the man look at me, I knew he was going to attempt to spark a similar conversation. As I walked past the relieved faces of the older couple, I prepared myself to ignore this man. It would be much easier for me since I had earphones in my ears — a clear indicator that I didn’t want to be bothered. However, as I approached the man, smelling his rank, unwashed stench, he tried to talk to me. I couldn’t quite make out what he said, but I briefly looked at him, smiled, and continued walking. I didn’t think much of it — and then the man suddenly jumped in front of us, blocking our way, startling both my dog and me.

Feeling taken aback, I removed my earphones with an expression that reflected the absurdity of this man’s actions. He tried to be friendly and told me he didn’t mean to scare me. Short and flustered, I asked him what he wanted. He told me he really wanted to pet my dog. In the moment, still feeling rattled, I gestured for him to pet Chambers.

The man kneeled and started petting my dog, who, of course, enjoyed the attention. As he was ruffling the fur on Chambers’ head, talking to him in that high, cooing voice people use with dogs, I noticed he kept fiddling with the dog’s collar. Then, he started saying Chambers’ name repeatedly, in a low, whispering voice. There was something off about this man, and I just wanted to leave him and continue my walk.

I told him I really had to get going, and he sprang to his feet and asked which loop I was following. Scared that he might suggest we walk together, I told him, as politely as I could, that I wanted to continue my walk alone. He kept trying to ask me questions, most likely an attempt to keep the conversation going, but I put my earphones back in, walked around him, and said goodbye. As I walked a few yards ahead, I couldn’t resist the urge to look back, to make sure I wasn’t being followed. When I did, he was standing in the same place, staring at me. He wasn’t looking at my face. His eyes moved over the rest of me, slow and unhurried — and I understood exactly what kind of man I’d just walked away from.

I turned with a shiver going down my spine and a hot flush of anger rising up my neck. I felt my strides getting quicker and heavier. That man had bothered me so much that I wished he’d just disappear. That was when I looked back once more to verify he hadn’t moved, but he was gone. I looked around, and the man was nowhere to be seen. Panic began to set in. I didn’t know if I should keep walking or go back — but going back meant I might meet that man again, a risk I wasn’t willing to take. I continued down the trail with my earphones out, on high alert.

I kept moving, scanning my surroundings for any sign of that man. But after almost a half hour of this, I started to settle as there was no trace of him. Feeling a little relieved, I made it to my favorite part of the trail: an opening at the base of a forested hill, sloped along a creek. I usually find a place to sit, let Chambers off his leash to sniff around and drink from the flowing stream, while I listen to birdsong. As you can imagine, I wasn’t in the mood for that routine.

At that moment, bravery — or stubbornness — rose in me like heat, and the cold fear evaporated. That man wasn’t going to scare me and ruin my weekend! I sat on a rock, unclipped Chambers’ leash, and relaxed, letting the calm of the place settle over me.

As I was trying to relax, I kept an ear out for any noises. That was when I began to hear a whistle, which caught both Chambers’ attention and mine. Then a second whistle cut through the trees, and Chambers’ head snapped in the direction of the hill — off the trail and in the thick of the forest. Suddenly, a voice followed the whistle — calling Chambers by name. Someone was coaxing my dog towards them. For a second I just stood there, not understanding. Then it hit me — it had to be that man calling for my dog.

I could see Chambers was torn — drawn by the whistle and voice, but hesitating. I leapt from the rock and yelled at Chambers, breaking his trance. My dog tore his gaze from the trees and darted towards me. I quickly reattached his leash and pulled him close. I looked towards the continued whistling and calling, but the forest was too thick to see anyone. I yelled at that man to leave us alone or I’d call the cops, and headed back towards the parking lot.

At this point, I was speed walking, trying to hurry back as quickly as I could. I checked my phone, but it had no signal, which increased my urgency. I then came across two girls walking together. I knew I had to warn them. I stopped them and told them about the strange man up ahead, and what he had done to me. The girls were freaked out, and one of them asked how the man knew my dog’s name and why he was calling for him. As I was thinking, it all came together like a jigsaw puzzle: the man wanted to pet my dog so he could learn his name — then call Chambers off the trail, toward where he was waiting, knowing I would chase after my dog. It was a way to lure me into seclusion.

I told the girls why, and fear overcame all of us. We decided to stick together and walk back. I felt much safer being in a group, and on our way back, we didn’t see anyone — not even that man. We made it to the parking lot, and there were only two cars, the girls’ and mine. The other car that was there had left, most likely the older couple’s. A part of me felt defeated; I’d been hoping it was the man’s, so I could give the authorities something to go on. Then, uneasiness settled in my stomach once again: if the man didn’t drive here, where did he come from?

I said goodbye to the girls and drove off with Chambers. Once I got cell service, I contacted the police to make a report. But nothing came from it — the trail was long and thick with forest, and he was never found. Yet I felt I must warn others of that man. I went on the trail’s community page to post a warning — and as I scrolled, I saw I wasn’t the only one. This horrible person has been preying on women for a while now. Others had described similar encounters.

Many women have been followed, stalked and inappropriately talked to. This man is dangerous, and everyone needs to understand the risk of going on that trail, especially alone. The police have been contacted again. But the story needs to get out there. So here is my story, as a warning. He is a predator and is willing to do anything to get you alone. Stay safe, and hopefully, he will be detained soon.