The Scariest NH Ghost Story Ever
Marianne O'Connor, author of "Haunted Hikes in New Hampshire," shares the story that freaks out her audience the most
An AMC crew member named George was sent up in the spring with a two-way radio to assess the winter damage and report back to the crew below any special equipment that might be needed for opening the Lakes of the Clouds Hut on Mount Washington. As in every winter, with the north winds blowing so fiercely, the windows of the hut are boarded up tight and secure. This was just how George found them that day. By the afternoon the men at the base signaled up to the lone hiker to see that he had made a safe arrival. Strangely, he did not answer. This didn’t worry the other members of the crew at first. Maybe he had gone out for a little hike around to check on some other things. By 8:00 that evening, the crew tried again and still there was no radio response from George. Anxiety rose, and the members at the base drew out a plan for an early morning exodus to the hut to check on their friend’s safety.
The next morning they made their way, slow and steady, up the snow-packed trail to the hut. From all indications George had arrived safely at the hut: his backpack and gear lay open on the dining room floor. There on a table was his two-way radio, still powered. They called out for him but couldn’t find him anywhere. The searchers began looking outside for footprints; they looked in the bunkrooms with their flashlights and headlamps. The hut was eerily dark with the windows still boarded up from the harsh winter. Someone heard a noise – a whimper, coming from below the kitchen sink. At last George was found, shaking horribly and crouched under the sink with the cabinet doors closed. In his white fists he clutched an ax and pleaded with his crew mates: “Just please, get me the hell out of here. Just get me out of here!”
Stunned by this discovery the crew members quickly pulled him out of the cupboard. He was soaked in sweat and trembling in fear. The members begged George to tell them what was wrong, yet he would not answer them. He simply repeated, “Just get me the hell out of here! Please!” Quietly they surrounded their friend in a secure clutch and helped him outside the hut and back onto the trail down the mountain. One crew member radioed back to the Pinkham Notch base for assistance and an ambulance was waiting for them as soon as they reached the bottom.
What terror had taken form at the hut to reduce the bravest of men into this state of unprecedented fear? No one could say. They guessed that he had run into a wild animal, maybe a wolf or bear, and had become fearful for his life. As the weeks passed and George lay recovering in the hospital, he finally opened up to a close confidant and relayed this story:
After his long trek up the trail he was overcome with exhaustion and hunger. He unlocked the heavy padlocks on the hut doors and quickly went inside into the large dining hall. There he sat on the bench by one of the tables and began to take account of his food supplies as he rested. He thought he’d wait just a short while and catch his breath before radioing back to the base. Suddenly he felt as if there were someone else in the dining room with him. He felt a form approach him from behind, as if someone was about to put their hands on his shoulders. He jumped up and quickly turned around to face the back of the dining hall. There, peering in at him from the dining room window, was a face – a distorted, grotesque face pressed to the glass to the dining room window panes, which were entirely boarded up from the outside. George backed up in horror as he then he looked at each window pane covered by the thick boards, and there he saw, one after the other, the same face, in every window, glaring back at him. The face seem to melt through the glass and into the room where he was standing. That was the last thing George remembered. He would never return to the hut or the AMC crew again, and his since lost all memory of the trauma of the summit that changed his life forever.