The El Dorado Canyon region, located in Nevada, has a long and rich history. Despite the apparent calm that seems to reign there, mysterious ghostly dogs seem to live in this vast and grandiose place.
Originally, two Native American tribes resided there: the
Paiutes and the Mojaves. Soon after the discovery of the New World,
the Spanish conquistadors flocked to this region, which held
incredible reserves of gold. They were never able to find any.
It was not until the 19th century that researchers finally found
the precious metals. They dug mines to exploit this very lucrative
vein. For example, the Techatticup mine alone produced more than $
2.5 million in gold, silver, copper and lead when it closed in
1945.
Today, this region attracts more walkers or curious. But any
witnesses claimed to have seen terrifying ghostly dogs.
Two brothers decided to carry out the investigation and
therefore went there. In this canyon, they were attacked by these
creatures, commonly called “Hell Hounds”.
One of the two says:
“For many years people have come out of this canyon with
tales of sightings and in a very few instances terrifying accounts
of actually being attacked or chased by these alleged ghost dogs
while exploring various different mining or town sites in the area.
Curious as to the validity of such tales my brother and I made the
decision to do a little exploring of our own. On the first few
excursions we found nothing as was expected. However, on the last
adventure we stumbled onto what we thought was just another
anonymous shaft site. As we looked closer at the site, we noticed
about an eight foot severely weathered chain embedded into the rock
wall at the entrance to the shaft.
Well, curiosity got the best of the both of us and foolishly
we entered the shaft. There we came upon the bones of what appeared
to be those of a large dog. We decided to camp here as the day was
coming slowly to its end. A decision that later we would come to
regret. The still desert night closed in as we had dinner and
relaxed around our small campfire. we heard what we assumed were
coyotes yipping and calling off in the distance. The atmosphere
became thick and very uneasy. We now felt that we were being
watched from a very close distance. What we thought was the night
time breeze now sounded more like the panting or breathing of large
dogs in close proximity. Then we heard the growling. Grating,
low……and hateful. The fall of paws on the desert sand now became
apparent. They seemed to circle the campsite. We were surrounded.
That’s when the scratching started. It came from the area were the
chain was. That damn chain moved! It seemed to tug away from the
rock wall, pulling harder and harder each time! We fumbled for our
gear and and stumbled to our feet. My brother shown the flashlight
at the chain. There were scratch marks in the rock!
There were what appeared to be blood stains on the wall
seemingly were the unfortunate dog furiously clawed at the chain’s
base in the rock itself! The chain dropped…something brushed
against my leg and I struggled to keep my balance. My brother
caught me and we ran like hell towards the car! The fall of canine
footsteps and wild panting chased us all the way! I’ve never run
faster in my life! On the road heading out of the canyon we were
paced for a good two or three miles at least by what seemed to be a
pack of wild strays! We made it home and I will never forget the
terror of being chased by this pack of spectral hounds.”
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