Ryan T Skinner - Skinwalker Ranch: Path of the Skinwalker

SKINWALKER RANCH

Path of the Skinwalker

By Ryan Skinner

I used to think that anyone doing anything weird was weird. I suddenly realized that anyone doing anything weird wasn't weird at all and it was the people saying they were weird that were weird.

-Paul McCartney

Contents

One

Road Trip to Vegas

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courageLao Tzu

My trek into the paranormal started in the winter of 2006. It was about 1:30 in the morning and the day before New Years. I had been driving for God only knows how many hours, fighting fatigue and boredom. I found myself staring blankly out into the dark, desolate desert road that ran ahead, paying way too much attention to the rubber of my tires as they rhythmically slapped along the paved surface. We were somewhere on I-70 cutting through the heart of Utah and heading to Las Vegas. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of my soon- to-be wife, Iryna, who was seated there beside me and either lost in thoughts of her own or dozing. She hadnt said much these last few miles. I stole a glance in her direction to see if she was sleeping, but it was too dark to tell and I didnt want to risk waking her by asking. We were on our way from Wisconsin to Vegas to get married.

But, hey, Im getting ahead of myself.

Meeting Iryna in the Ukraine is a bit of a story worth telling, and though not paranormal, definitely what most people would consider out of the normal. Disappointed with the kind of girl I was constantly dating here in the States, and being somewhat whimsical and impulsive, I got involved in one of those mail-order bride things, the kind that arranges for guys like me to go overseas and meet up with girls from the other side of the world. Essentially, the trip itself amounted to little more than club-hopping, but I did meet Iryna.

She wasnt one of the girls hoping to find an American husband, but instead was a translator enlisted by the program to facilitate communication for the girls that were. Regardless, she was skinny, blonde and beautiful, and definitely caught my eye. I went up and introduced myself. Apparently the translators had been told to remain aloof and not socialize or mingle with us; but I didnt know that, and she didnt say.

She was wearing this kind of peasant girl dress, and it immediately appealed to the sense of innocence, of wholesomeness and family values that I was looking for. And despite the fact that she was projecting the airs and attitude of a runway model, I could picture her wearing jeans and eating a hot dog at the ball park. Of course, it didnt hurt any that she spoke English as well if not better than most of the girls I tended to hook up with in the States.

To make a long story short, after all the other guys who had made the trip over had returned to the States, I stayed behind and moved in with Iryna. We were together for a few months when I thought it best to go home for a while. Over the next year or so I made a couple of trips back, and eventually convinced Iryna to come with me to the States. It wasnt long before we had settled in Wisconsin and had a sonher first child and my second. I have a daughter from a previous relationship.

We had our boy only a few months before Christmas, and our little family unit was looking forward to our first holiday celebration together. I made sure to do my part to make it a memorable one by planning a secret and a surprise. Rather than new clothing, electronic gadgets, or some other trinket all too soon forgotten, I decided to surprise Iryna with a ring and the traditional bended knee proposal. I thought it was time we were married.

Iryna, the baby and me

Come Christmas morning, I watched as Iryna began digging through the big box that I had taken extra care to wrap and tapeespecially tape. She has a thing for pop culture and Lady Gaga, so I was pretty sure shed go for the bait imagining the statement making outfit that she was hoping for. She tried to conceal her excitement, but she was like a raccoon clawing into a discarded box of cereal.

I shrugged with feigned innocence as all her ripping and tearing managed to produce only the smaller wrapped box that I had concealed inside, and then again inside that one, one even smaller. Her exasperation, however, melted away and the glow of her eyes throwing off the flames dancing in the fireplace suddenly flared as they welled with tears. Leaving them to roll unchecked down her cheeks, she threw her arms around my neck, and between tears and I-love-you, we exchanged soft, salty kisses. But the ring was only part of the surprise. The playful smile I let slip across my face told her there was more yet to come.

Well? she asked, knowing I would give in.

I would like for the two of us to drive to Vegas and get married in a few days! I said.

There was a moment of hesitation, and I knew she was thinking about the baby.

The baby will be fine with my parents, I assured her. Well only be gone a few days. He sleeps so much hell barely know were gone.

She gave me a scowl and took a slap at my shoulder, but she knew I was right.

So less than a week later we set out on what we thought would be a romantic fantasya road trip filled with excitement, adventure, and self-discovery. The furthest thing from our minds was that on the road from Wisconsin to Las Vegas we would run directly into the path of a Skinwalker. But thats exactly what happened, right there on I-70 in Utah, just south of Thompson Springs.

Two

I cant believe what Im seeing

But I do believe in the paranormal, that there are things our brains just can't understandArt Bell

That encounter was something so surreal, so mind bending that Iryna and I just werent the same after. I found myself in a lonely, unyielding pursuit of the paranormal, and it was something that she couldnt or wouldnt understand. Ultimately, it became too much for our relationship. So she left me.

But again, Im getting ahead of the story.

That last night in December of 2006, out there on that highway, I vaguely remember glancing at the cars radio. It showed 1:36 am. My head had been bobbing up and down rather involuntarily for the last few miles, kind of like a marionette with a distracted puppeteer pulling absently at the strings. I knew it wouldnt be long before the road was throwing dots up into my eyes. Ive driven long distances at night before.

Hey, babe, I quietly muttered reaching over to nudge Iryna. You always wanted to learn how to drive, now would the perfect time. Im sick of driving. Im going to pull over. I didnt give her the chance to put up a protest.

As luck would have it a sign emerged in the not too far distance. In large whitish letters against a green background it spelled out Scenic Viewing Area Ahead and Mile 186. As I steered the car off the highway and onto the exit ramp I was encouraged to see the viewing area had exceeded the bland expectations I had anticipated given the landscape to this point. Laid out before our eyes like a wrinkled bed sheet discarded by some giant was an expansive and mysterious valley.

The view out over the valley

I stepped out of the car and into the chilly December night and walked over to where I could get a good look at the scenery. The valley was silent and painted with the eerie glow of the moonlight, the peaks and crevasses like flat shadows and distinguishable one from the other only by differing shades of grey. The view was surreal as if we had been plucked from the earth and unwittingly transported to some exotic off-world.