My Scary Camping Story - Screams While Camping at Lost Maples State Park

Simply Loren
Jun 5
5 min read

If You Go Out In The Woods Today - Beware of Lost Maples State Park

Hammock hanging in the trees in an eerie forest setting

I've camped all my life, but nothing could have prepared me for what I heard that night at Lost Maples State Park.

If you've ever thought about primitive camping at Lost Maples State Natural Area in Texas, just know that it is not always as peaceful as it seems. What started as a relaxing weekend for me quickly turned into one of the most unsettling experiences I've ever had in the woods.

Setting the Scene: Primitive Camping at Lost Maples

For context, my boyfriend and I joined my brother and his friends for a weekend of primitive camping to celebrate a birthday. Our campsite was about 2 miles or so deep into the woods, so not completely remote, but secluded enough to give that classic off-the-grid feeling. There was one other group of campers within view, but they were far enough that it felt like we had the area to ourselves.

At first, everything was pretty typical. We arrived a little bit late, so the sun was already set by the time we made it to the campsite, but we were still able to hang out and cook by the campfire. It was all a great time, until around 3:30AM.

The First Night: A Disturbance at 3:30AM

Around 3:30 in the morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of rustling just outside our tent. I tend to wake up easily to anything out of place, so I was instantly on high alert. I shook my boyfriend awake, and before I could even explain why, we both heard it—a branch snapped.

He grabbed his flashlight and looked around, but there was nothing out there except for a field mouse. That was enough to convince him, but I still had an uneasy feeling about it.

I shut my eyes and tried my best to go back to sleep, but a few minutes later, my boyfriend tapped me awake and whispered that he was absolutely certain that he felt something firmly brush against his foot from the outside of the tent. This concerned me, but the only thing we could really do about it was just look outside the tent. So, that's what we did. As quietly as possible, we inched up to the edge of the tent and unzipped it... there was nothing there. Since we couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, we chalked it up to the field mouse and went back to sleep.

The Second Night: Wailing in the Woods

The next day was peaceful. We hiked some more, lounged in our hammocks, went fishing, and made it back to the campsite in time for some s'mores. It was genuinely a fun day, until we wound down for the night. Now, we hadn't told anyone else about our experience the previous night, because we didn't want to cause undue stress, but looking back, maybe we should have. Our tent was set up about 20 feet deeper into the trees than the others - so they weren't right next to us - but we were still close enough that I could hear my brother snoring (oddly comforting in a situation like this).

I mention that because I was jolted awake once again at exactly 3:30AM. It was so quiet. And I mean there was NO sound. Not my brother snoring, not a bird, not a leaf. I was disturbed, to say the least. I turned to wake my boyfriend, but to my horror, he was already awake—eyes wide, finger to his lips, silently signaling me to stay quiet. What the heck was going on? "Did you hear that?" He whispered. I was so confused. I couldn't hear anything at all, everything was so quiet. "No, I di-"

Then I heard it.

Unexplainable Sound: Was It La Llorona?

From the direction of the nearby water - maybe half a mile out - came the gut-wrenching sound of a woman wailing. Not sobbing. Not screaming. Just a hollow, eerie, echoing wail.

I’ve been camping dozens of times. I’ve heard coyotes, owls, birds, mountain lions, raccoons — but this wasn’t any of them. It wasn’t even an animal sound. It sounded human. Like a woman wailing at the top of her lungs.

The first wail stopped, and I started to calm down, thinking maybe it was some cruel prank. But then the sound returned — only this time, it came from a completely different direction. It had moved at least a half mile in less than a minute. No crunching leaves. No footsteps. Just silence followed by that same horrifying cry, closer this time.

Again, the woods were deathly silent. No crickets. No breeze. From my experience, I knew that silence in the woods typically meant danger, but I had no idea what we were dealing with, so I whispered to my boyfriend, “Whatever happens, we’re not leaving this tent.” Part of me wanted to go check on my brother and his friends, but I figured moving around in this situation and possibly attracting attention wouldn't be smart. Whatever that thing was, it was traveling along the water.

Windchimes in the Dark

When the wailing finally stopped, I thought it was all over-until I heard a new sound: the faint clinking of windchimes about 25 feet from our tent. Not the musical tones, but the dull clacking of wood knocking together the quickest way out of the park required us to cross the river near where the wailing was coming from. So the only thing we could really do was just stay put. We just lay there completely still and awake until sunrise came.

Morning: Broken Branches & Unanswered Questions

We hiked back in the morning and made it home safely. But along the trail by the water, I noticed something odd — several freshly broken branches, as if someone had passed through in the night. But I remembered a story my mother once told me about the legend of La Llorona — the weeping woman who cries in the night. I wonder if this was her?

💡Tips for Primitive Camping at Lost Maples (Especially If You Hear Screaming)

Stay calm – panic leads to poor decision-making in the dark.
Don’t exit your tent unnecessarily – stay inside if you're unsure about what’s outside.
Note sound direction – and any rapid shifts in location (this can rule out animals).
Bring a headlamp and backup flashlight – low visibility can make things worse.
Familiarize yourself with local wildlife – know what’s normal and what isn’t.

📍 About Lost Maples State Park, Texas

Located near Vanderpool, Texas, Lost Maples State Natural Area is known for its gorgeous fall foliage, scenic hiking trails, and designated primitive camping sites. But like any place deep in nature, it comes with its own mysteries — and maybe a few legends.