Not sure how interesting this story will be, but it was a very significant experience for me at the time.
I took some friends on a backpacking trip in a national a few years ago, here in Washington. Its somewhat of a tradition for me to hit this trail during the first spring weather window, as that early in the season I have never once seen another hiker past the first trail junction. Even before the incident I am about to describe, it always just felt steeped in a powerful sort of energy- which is why I go back year after year.
Normally, I get turned back by snow at around mile 15, at a low pass. This year, however, it cleared early, which enabled us to get further up into the river valley. We arrived at our campsite, 20 miles into the park late on the second day. My friend, a novice backpacker at the time, was a skilled fire builder. Conditions weren't ideal, but dry material was around. He toiled for an hour, and never got more than a few weak embers, it was bizarre. We gave up on the fire, and my friends broke out a bottle of whiskey to soothe our disappointment. My friend took a swig of whiskey, and offered the bottle to me. In that instant, for no apparent reason, I was hit with that I can only describe as an overwhelming sense of dread. The most straightforward way I can describe the feeling, was that something/one was very angry at me for being in this place at this time, with these people. It was as intense, and real, as anything else Ive felt in my life. As if Id violated some rule I hadn't been taught, yet somehow knew. I immediately retired to my tent, unsure exactly of what was going on. I barely slept that night, and when I did awake, the feeling was still there. We hiked all the way out that morning, as was the plan. The entire day I felt uneasy, and it reached crescendo when I got home and crawled into my bed. The next morning, it was gone as if it had never happened. It was unlike anything I had experienced before or since. Someday Ill go back.