I'm Lynn Smith and welcome to the Bigfoot Project.
Grab a blanket, turn down the lights, and settle in for
another journey into the mysteries of the wilderness.
I'm a Native American and a contactee of interdimensional
beings and my recent sighting was a Bigfoot and this is my
eyewitness story of what I've seen.
I'm walking alone in the northern boreal forest of Canada
and I've always haunted on this trail and I'm an experienced
hunter and haunted in different ways such as archery and
slingshot trapping and tracking and stalking.
I have a very good eye and 6th sense.
But on June 21st 2020 I was running on this trail in the
forest but I was alone and unarmed and as I was running on
the trail I felt something was nearby that he detected.
With my psychic abilities. I knew this was an intelligent
creature because it started out as wood knocks but I saw this
stick on the ground so I picked it up to fight this life form.
I heard and as I scanned the area with my eyes where I heard
the tree knocking. As I got closer I saw an outline
of a human being but I could see through this being and I saw it
ran off into the thick Bush. My fight or flight mode kicked
in. I ran after this being as I was
running towards this invisible 6 1/2 foot creature.
I threw away the stick because this thing is invisible and fast
and quiet, but I was fearless. This being ran for me at a very
fast speed, faster than human, I'll say, but I chased it off
into the Bush. But I lost it then.
The direction I seen at last went was near my hometown
reserve, and the reserve dogs were barking at this thing I've
seen. It ran in that direction and I
returned home safely without being followed.
I had dreams about Sasquatch the next morning and the next, but
I'm alive and well to tell my experience in full detail.
Shade in Alphonse This next story was emailed to Bigfoot
Case Files by Ted Sawyers. Back in the summer of 2002.
Ted, his wife Jenny, and their daughter Lauren were camping
with Ted's younger brother Mike in the forest near Sisters OR.
They both had deer tags for the Metullius unit and were scouting
the area for deer on the second day.
While planning the next day's excursions, Ted remembered a
great location where he had camped previously where there
was a major game trail going over the Ridge.
Mike decided to check out that area the next morning with his
wife. The next afternoon they all met
back at camp and Mike reported that they had something strange
happen while they were up there exploring the game trail.
He told Ted that as they were walking suddenly about 50 yards
or so up the trail, they noticed that a 25 foot tree was being
shaken violently, but they didn't see anything that could
have caused the tree to shake. They both agreed that it must
have been a bear as they were not sure what else it could have
been. The next morning, Mike and his
wife decided to go back and check it out, while Ted and his
family decided to explore some nearby caves.
When they returned to camp, Mike's tent and all their
belongings were gone. All that was left was a note
saying that they had run into Bigfoot and they were heading
home. Mike explained to Ted what
happened the next day on the phone after everyone had
returned home. He said that they had made it to
the tree that was being shaken and were looking for tracks when
he heard some brush rustle toward the top of the hill.
When he looked up, a boulder the size of a basketball was flying
through the air toward them and landed on the trail in front of
them, shaking the ground as it hit.
At this moment, he said that. Every hair on the.
Back of his neck was standing on end before he could say anything
to his wife. Here comes another rock similar
in size and this time the boulder landed to their right.
He explained when this happened, fear had taken over and he could
feel his back tense up. And here comes the third rock
landing to their right as well. Then he raised his 22 rifle and
shot 3 times over the area where the rocks were coming from.
He shouted is anybody up there? After waiting with no response,
Mike had an eerie feeling and he yelled to his wife, let's go
before we die. After talking with his brothers
about his experience, a plan was put together to go back to the
area soon and find out what the hell was going on.
The following Saturday they loaded for bear.
Ted had a 22 Meg pistol and a 270 rifle and an Arkansas
toothpick for Eucity Slickers, that's a large knife.
Mike had a 300 Wetherby Meg, a 22 Meg pistol as well as a
knife, and both had pockets full of bullets.
They loaded up the Suburban with all their gear, plus their wives
and all the kids and headed out early Saturday morning, arriving
around 7:00 AM. Everything seemed normal, very
calm, no wind, birds chirping, squirrels playing, and the sun
coming up in the east. Ted and Mike grabbed their guns
and headed to the spot where the tree was.
They had made it to the tree and we're looking for the rocks.
Keeping one eye on the Ridge where the rocks had come from.
Out of nowhere, a violent crash sounded from the exact spot
where the rocks had come from last week.
It sounded like a tree was being picked up and slammed against
another tree. Holy.
Immediately they were each down on one knee and looking through
their scopes trying to find whatever just made that noise.
They noticed that the woods shut down with no noise whatsoever.
Mike was also scanning the hillside with his rifle as Ted
walked over to him whispering what the hell was that?
They stood for a few moments in silence and Ted said to Mike.
If it charges, I will kill it. About that time a second
thunderous crash happened again in the same spot.
Ted's heart was in his throat and beating like a drum as they
both stood scanning the trees with their rifles.
Ted looked at Mike and said let's walk up there and flush it
out into the open. Mike must have thought to
himself, damn he's got a pair Holish.
As they started up the hill, 1/3 crash happened again.
This time they looked at each other and said let's go, Guns
loaded and safety's off. They slowly started walking up
the hill toward where they heard the last crash.
They got halfway up the hill and suddenly heard the Suburban
start up. Fearing the worst, they turned
and took off on a dead run to the rig.
They arrived in a panic only to find that the wives and kids had
become cold sitting in the rig and needed to run the heater.
Ted looked at Mike and asked. Do you want to go back up there?
Mike replied. Hell no, my heart can't take it.
They never saw anything, but both concluded that their
experience was typical Bigfoot behavior.
Shaking of trees, throwing of rocks, whacking of sticks.
That's our story. Fast forward six years to the
fall of 2008. Ted, his wife Jenny, and their
daughter Lorne, as well as Ted's older brother Travis, had drawn
deer tags for the Metolius Unit. And we're excited for opening
day. They arrived Friday evening and
set up camp where they had camped with Ted's other brother
a few years earlier. They put their two tents up
about 8 feet apart with a giant tarp that was 30 by 25 feet in
the trees, about 10 feet up. To keep the rain and the dew off
of them and their supplies, they had plans to stay Friday night
until the following weekend, 9 days in total.
Everything was going great, they were seeing lots of deer,
passing on some smaller bucks and hoping for bigger ones to
appear. On Wednesday evening after
dinner they decided to play a game called Balderdash.
It had been a long day as they had risen early and everyone
seemed to have the giggles, especially Ted and Travis when
it came to weird words on the playing cards.
Let's just say they were all having a great time at hunting
camp without a care in the world.
They finally decided to go to bed around 10:00.
At 2:00 AM, Ted was awakened to heavy footsteps coming toward
camp from his brother's truck that was parked about 100 feet
from camp. It was dead calm out and about
15°F. The ground was kind of crunchy
because of the freezing weather. Ted had been sleeping with his
270 Savage by his right side, loaded and ready with his wife
and daughter sleeping to his left.
His first thought was Travis went to his truck for something
and I'm only hearing him coming back to camp.
As it was walking toward camp, Ted could distinctively hear
that it was walking on 2 legs and it was getting closer.
He started to hear it breathe. He thought that his brother
might have had an upset stomach and he must have gone to the
truck to get some pills, but as he heard it walking toward camp,
it sounded like he stopped at the fire pit.
The sound was like Darth Vader breathing low and deep.
Unbeknownst to Ted, his brother was now awake in his own tent
and he was thinking that it was Ted gathering firewood in the
middle of the night and was out of breath.
As both were lying in their separate tents, they realized
about the same time what they were dealing with.
This heavy breathing went on for 10 to 15 minutes.
Ted was thinking that it was spending a lot of time there
because of all the odors, as that was where he had been doing
all the cooking. He could not get himself out of
bed to peek, but remained motionless, listening so
intently that he was not thinking of anything else.
Then it walked over to Travis's tent and stood right in front of
the doorway and remained there for several minutes and still
breathing like Darth Vader. It seemed as if he was
contemplating what to do next or wondering what he was smelling.
Later, Travis remarked that the sound of his breathing seemed to
be coming from the top part of the tent, about 7 1/2 to 8 feet
high. Travis never moved a muscle
controlling his breathing and thinking.
I left my gun in my truck. Crap.
Then they both heard it walk off into the woods about 50 feet and
stop. It was there for quite a while,
then started walking again up the hill and then everything
went silent. Then suddenly they both heard
two long clear calls that sounded like whoop up the hill
in the distance. Soon the brothers got up and
built a huge fire and started talking about the encounter,
each telling the other, I thought that was you.
When daylight came, they told the girls what had happened and
began looking around the area for tracks.
They found nothing but realized that they were not leaving
tracks either because of the frozen ground which was littered
with pine needles and small rocks.
As they were recalling their experiences the previous night,
they both agreed that they heard it leave camp and stop about 50
feet out. They all then began to scan the
woods to find out what it may have been doing.
Then Travis yelled out. I found something.
That something ended up being a giant turd that the Bigfoot had
left. Travis looked at it and
exclaimed. I have haunted my entire life
and I have never seen a turd like that.
Lauren joked. That was probably hers.
It was about 12 inches long and three to four inches round and
had pieces of bark and leaves in it.
Travis said they should wrap it in foil and put it in the
cooler. To which Jenny replied hell no.
As they all stood there that morning, they were in disbelief
that they experienced another Bigfoot encounter close to the
spot where they had come across him a few years before.
Ted remembered reading once that Bigfoot is attracted to laughter
and noise. Now he knows they are.
Coincidentally, Travis decided to go home later that day in
2017, Ted and. His wife had purchased ELK tags
for the Cascade Range in Oregon. They got up early on opening
morning. Threw all the gear in the truck
and headed out in hopes to bag a couple of bull elk.
They decided to begin their day in the woods around Marion Forks
on Hwy. 22, then traveled Sheep Creek to Hwy. 20.
This would provide a full day of hunting and driving that
afternoon. When they arrived at Hwy. 20 Ted
said to Jenny, well we have at least one hour of daylight left.
If we head to our old deer camp area where we had all the
Bigfoot activity we could hunt the last half hour of daylight.
Jenny agreed and as they arrived at the area the sun was going
down and the woods were getting dark.
Ted made a turn down a gravel road and as he was coming out of
the corner he looked down the road about 300 yards on the left
side he could see something dark black standing just off the side
of the road next to the Pines. It looked out of place.
It was the only thing black that was close to the edge.
He slammed on the brakes and yelled for Jenny.
Get the binoculars. As he focused the binoculars he
could see the shoulders and head but no facial features.
It had a conehead shape. As he was looking at it through
the binoculars it just stepped off the road and he clearly saw
that it walked on 2 legs. Then he yelled hang on and
punched it to get closer fast. They got to where it had been
standing, got out to look and listen for a while but did not
hear or see anything. The next morning he put out two
game cameras on that trail but captured nothing.
The area where he spotted this Bigfoot was about half a mile
from where they had the midnight visitor and about 3/4 of a mile
where the Bigfoot says get the hell out.
All these. Incidents happened in the late
summer, early fall of the year. The crazy thing about it is the
brothers had all heard of Bigfoot while growing up but did
not really give it much thought until these experiences.
It serves to change one's mind about what is out there.
Ted's opinion is it is an ape that walks upright like a human
and it is nocturnal. It still will move during
daylight hours if it needs to. Canada is a land full of vast
natural beauty and thriving unspoiled wilderness.
Much of the wild landscape here is a world full of natural
wonders that have managed to remain pristine and nearly
untouched by human beings, with mountains, valleys, forests,
whole swaths of land that have remained for the most part,
unexplored. It is from these unconquered
northern lands that have long sprung various stories of
mystery and strange phenomena. Surely one of the most bizarre
mysteries from the Canadian wilderness comes from the
Nahanni National Park, a place also known ominously as the
Valley of Headless Men. The name is not merely a spooky
nickname for a remote, mysterious land, for the area is
long known for having people disappear only to turn up
without their heads. Nahanni National Park is part of
the Mackenzie Mountain region, located in the Deco region of
the Northwest Territories, Canada, approximately 500
kilometers or 311 miles West of Yellowknife.
Nahanni is from the language of the indigenous Denay people that
have inhabited the region for millennia and means the people
over there in reference to the tribe of mountain dwelling
people known as the Naha, who were once known to raid lowland
settlements before mysteriously vanishing.
The roughly 11,000 square mile park is designated as a UNESCO
World Heritage Site and is undeniably full of breathtaking
natural wonder and beauty. The park is surrounded by
majestic peaks and dotted with geysers, sinkholes, deep
canyons, caves, gorges and pristine forests.
Within these stunning vistas lies Virginia Falls, a
magnificent giant of a waterfall that crashes down 96 meters, or
315 feet, into the roiling water below, twice as high as the more
well known Niagara Falls. Meandering through the center of
the valley is the South Nahanni River, which carves a scenic
path through the park and has formed 4 dizzyingly high canyons
that line its turbulent waters. The South Nahanni River's course
takes it over waterfalls, through deep gorges, and across
natural Hot Springs, including an area of boiling whirlpools
known as Hell's Gate, before ending its journey in a
thunderous crescendo down Virginia Falls.
The South Nahanni River is a very rare example of what is
called an antecedent river, meaning that it was powerful
enough to maintain the same course it had before the
mountains around it formed, which it carved as they slowly
sprung up across the landscape. This results in the rather
remarkable sight of mountains that seem to follow the flow of
the river rather than the other way around.
Along the river's path through hot spring areas are places
permeated with warm air that never freeze and are home to
lush topical worlds full of atypical plants for the region
such as ferns, wild cherries and roses which form Oasis of green
surrounded by frigid snow and ice in the winter.
The river is the centerpiece of the valley and is the
destination of most tourists who come to the Nahanni National
Park where they canoe or do white water rafting along its
challenging, treacherous Rapids. While surrounded by awe
inspiring scenery and rugged wilderness, the Nahanni National
Park has managed to remain relatively pristine, untouched
and unexplored. Due to a lack of any tourist
accommodations and no roads leading in, the remote park is
only accessible by boat or plane.
The Nahanni Valley has been steeped in folklore and mystery
since it was first inhabited around 9 to 10,000 years ago.
Many tribes were afraid to settle within the region as they
believed it to be an evil, haunted place inhabited by
various spirits, specters, and devils.
Those who did come here, such as the native Danae people, told of
mysterious creatures lurking in the vast forests and were
plagued by the enigmatic, aggressive, violent Naha tribe
of the mountains. The tribe was said to consist of
fierce warriors who wore masks and armor adorned with
frightening imagery and were known to brutally decapitate
their victims. Warriors of the Naha tribe were
said to be larger than normal men and to wield strange and
powerful weapons that no one had ever seen before.
The fearsome Naha tribe itself has become one of the area's
many mysteries, as the whole tribe is said to have suddenly
and inexplicably disappeared from the face of the earth, and
it has never been ascertained just what happened to them.
They have seemingly just vanished without a trace.
When European fur traders first came to the valley in the 18th
century, they were impressed by the legends and beauty of the
valley and word quickly spread about the far-flung wilderness.
As more European settlers found their way to the valley, it was
soon seen to be a potential path to riches, as many explorers
believed it to possess vast reserves of untapped gold.
Subsequently, the region saw an influx of miners looking to
either find gold in the South Nahanni River basin or
attempting to pass through on the way to the gold fields of
the Yukon during the Klondike Gold Rush.
Although Nahanni Valley actually produced little actual gold,
legends nevertheless quickly formed of the valley holding
large stores of lost gold waiting to be found.
Some stories told of miners spotting large Nuggets of gold
as big as grapes, and huge veins of untapped gold were said to be
hidden away in the wilderness. Here, the stories fueled gold
fever, and miners, undeterred at the lack of success up to that
point, continued to clamor to this remote and rugged land to
try their hand at finding it. It was during this era of miners
seeking their fortunes among the rugged terrain of the Nahanni
that the valleys more insidious and macabre.
Legend began to emerge, particularly in the part of the
park called the 200 Mile Gorge. In 1908, brothers Willie and
Frank McLeod came prospecting in the valley, just as many others
had done before them. The two packed up their gear,
headed out into the wilderness, and never returned.
After a year had passed, it was presumed that the brothers must
have succumbed to the elements or any of the countless perils
the area had to offer, such as sinkholes, jagged gorges, and
wild animals. Some rumors suggested that the
two had succeeded in finding one of the mythical veins of gold
thought to dot the valley and had made off with their fortune
without telling anyone. Then, as suddenly as they had
vanished, the two men were found dead along the river.
Their bodies had been decapitated and the heads were
nowhere to be found. A spooky story, to be sure, but
it would not be an isolated case, nor the last victims the
valley would claim. In 1917, a Swiss prospector by
the name of Martin Jorgensen made his way to Nahanni to try
his hand at finding gold. At first, Jorgensen seemed to
have settled well in the valley. He built a cabin, ran a small
mining operation, and was generally well known by settlers
in the area. When Jorgensen's cabin
mysteriously burned down to the ground, the prospector skeleton
was found among the ashes without its head, and a search
of the charred remains of the cabin found no trace of the
skull. In 1945, a miner from Ontario
was found dead in his sleeping bag without his head.
Around the same time, a trapper named John O'Brien was found
frozen to death in the nearby wilderness with his hands
clutching a pack of matches in a death grip right next to a
campfire pit that showed evidence of having a fire going.
Those who had stumbled across the corpse describe having the
feeling that the unfortunate trapper had been flash frozen
within seconds. These mysterious deaths are not
the only oddities the valley holds.
In addition to the mysterious beheadings, a good many others
simply went missing without a trace.
It is thought that around 44 people had vanished under
mysterious circumstances in the valley by 1969.
Other phenomena have been reported from here as well.
Mysterious lights and UFOs have long been sighted in the valley,
as well as other unusual aerial phenomena.
The area is also known for its cryptids as it is a hotspot for
Bigfoot activity and is believed by some to hold a remnant
population of a type of bear like carnivore called the Bear
Dog or Amphicinidae, which was thought to have gone extinct in
the Pleistocene epic. In addition to this strangeness,
A bizarre find was made in an ice cave called Grot Valerie,
where the ancient skeletons of over 100 sheep were found,
apparently having starved to death in around 2500 BC.
The grim find has earned The Cave the nickname The Gallery of
Lost Sheep. To this day, it is not known who
or what is responsible for the beheadings and disappearances in
the Nahanni Valley, but their legacy certainly remains in the
menacing place Names throughout the valley, such as Deadman
Valley, Headless Creek, Headless Range, and the Funeral Range.
Theories abound on what could be the culprit behind the killings,
encompassing everything from the rational to the outlandish.
Some say that the valley is cursed, just as the native
people of the region had always believed, and that some evil
supernatural force is to be blamed.
Others think the deaths were the result of the ghosts of the
mountain Naha warriors risen from the dead to drive away the
white man, and with their penchant for beheadings firmly
intact. Some of these fringe theories
include mention of a secret entrance to the hollow earth
somewhere in the valley, or the idea that the area lies along a
thin spot in the veil that separates different dimensions.
More rational theories point to the attacks being carried out by
hostile native tribes or rivalries between miners
scrambling to find the mythical stores of unfound gold.
The disappearances could be the result of any number of perils
to be found in the wilderness here.
After all, this is an inhospitable place of extreme
cold, filled with unexplored caves, gullies, jagged rocks,
and ravenous beasts such as grizzly bears.
For all of the ideas offered, in the end, no one really knows
what decapitated these bodies or why, and it is still unknown as
to what happened to the people who disappeared.
It is hard to say what lies behind these mysteries.
The area is so forbidding and remote that very few people
other than adventurous rafters ever set foot here.
Despite its status as a National Park, Nahanni Valley remains for
the most part unexplored, and there are very large portions
that have never been properly surveyed.
The only geological surveys ever done here were done from the
air, and the vast majority of the wilderness here remains an
enigma. The few efforts to explore the
area in any kind of depth have turned up vast unknown cavern
systems, caves, and huge Warrens of underground Hot Springs and
vents previously not known to exist.
Some believe that a lost world full of new species lies here.
What other mysteries and oddities does in the Honey
Valley hold? Is there something malevolent
hiding out there in this rugged wilderness that could have
something to do with its violent and sinister past?
Until more investigation is done, it will continue to remain
a perplexing and very creepy mystery.
Hey everyone, I just want to remind you that my written books
and audio books are available and the links are all in the
description below. If you enjoyed these stories and
want to help support the show, picking up a copy really helps
and is greatly appreciated. Thank you.
My husband and I had heard about Babyfoot Lake, a beautiful
circular mountain lake near the Illinois Valley in Oregon, and
since we were in The Cave Junction area for a few days
visiting relatives, we needed some time to ourselves, so we
decided it would be nice to go there.
We packed a picnic lunch, thinking we would spend some
time at the lake relaxing since it was early enough in the year
that it should be rather devoid of people, with traces of snow
still lingering in pockets. As luck would have it, we were
the only car at the trailhead, so we put on our backpacks,
grabbed our hiking poles, and started off on the trail.
It seemed different than the written description and
directions we had looked at on the Internet.
As we found ourselves leaving the small valley and climbing at
a steady angle along a steep Cliff, we finally realized that
we must have missed the trail that led to Babyfoot Lake.
We had looked at maps before leaving the car and we knew
there was a higher trail, so we assumed that this must have been
what we were on. We figured that the steep trail
must eventually meet up with the other trail to the lake, so we
decided to stay the course since we could see boot prints had
already been on this trail this season.
Well, we began regretting our choice after another half hour
because we were still climbing and at places the trail was just
wide enough for a person's foot one in front of the other.
The way down wasn't quite straight, but if you slipped it
was about 100 to 150 feet before a tree or Bush or maybe a huge
boulder would stop your fall. Finally, we reached the top of
the Ridge and the trail continued through the remnants
of a forest along the Crest of the Ridge.
There were many dead blackened trees from the Biscuit Fire that
ridged through back in 2002 and burned thousands of acres across
these mountains. We had watched a documentary
about this tremendous fire and its ravages were still so
visible it must have been terrible.
There was also signs of recovery with young trees and small
bushes growing, but they were dwarfed by the huge dead Pines
that covered the mountains like grey ghosts with their arms
outstretched as if asking for sympathy.
Many of them still had pine cones that it kind of burned
right onto the branches. We had finally reached the very
top of the Ridge where someone had piled rocks to form a Cairn,
which at the time we hadn't researched enough to know what
it signified. Not far from this spot was our
first sight of Babyfoot Lake several 100 feet below us.
The trail LED forward and looked as if it curved down and around
the mountain to the lake. It seemed more like a Jeep Rd.
as it was wide and rutted from what we could see.
Before a drop downward. We decided to take a lunch break
with an overview of the deep blue pool, so we settled on a
couple of boulders and began to unpack our sandwiches and water
and enjoy the beautiful spring day.
Suddenly we heard a loud thump and as we turned a large
softball sized rock came skipping across the ground past
us and disappeared over the Cliff.
Knowing we were on the highest point on the Ridge, we knew it
couldn't have fallen, it had to have been thrown and we both
yelled at the same time. There was no response and not a
sound but the wind whispering through the Pines.
We yelled again, but without response.
The angle the rock had landed and rolled forward indicated
that it came from the trees just where the trail started downhill
and that meant that it had travelled over 150 feet through
the air before it hit the ground.
We both know that anything that could throw a rock that large
that far had to be too big to fool around with.
We took the easy and safe route by packing up and heading back
the way we had come. The hare was standing on the
backs of our necks the entire way down the trail.
We didn't hear anything or see anything further.
By the time we got to where the lower trail was visible, we had
both lost our interest in visiting the lake for now.
So we made our way back to the parking area and we're comforted
by the side of our car. Thank you.
Jan Olson, Reno, NV I took a three day vacation beginning on
September the 14th, 2012 from Northern Nevada to the southern
coast of Oregon. I take professional photos for a
website I operate and I was hoping to get in some great
scenic shots before it got too cold and lousy for the rest of
the year. My fiance and I were on a hike
about 6 or 8 miles above Brookings, OR and Curry County.
We were on a hiking trail in a densely wooded area following a
trail called the Loop Trail. This trail is about 1/4 of a
mile past the area called Natural Bridges Viewpoint.
We'd gone down the trail without incident, although it was
getting dark and I felt as though we needed to hurry to get
back, even though there was no reason to.
It was just a feeling, like the hairs on the back of my neck had
started to stand up. I can't quite explain it, I just
suddenly felt uncomfortable. We didn't see any other hikers
while we were on our way back up the trail or on our way down.
We stopped walking when we heard some loud snaps in the forest
around us, like something was breaking tree branches.
We looked around but didn't see anything at first.
We decided to keep walking when we saw some bushes about 20
yards ahead of us sway back and forth.
We stopped again and were then assaulted by a horrific smell
that reminded me of garbage baking in the sun.
By then the nervous feeling I had had intensified and I was
really beginning to worry about the onset of fog and the fading
light. The forest was misty and it was
raining lightly. We were climbing a steep part of
the trail and I gave it my best push to get to the end of the
trail. As we were finishing the final
climb, I turned and looked behind me.
I'm not sure why. It was like I knew someone was
watching and yet I told myself I was just being silly.
When I turned, I saw a head above some tree branches with
the rest of the body hidden by the heavy vegetation.
The head was covered in dark reddish brown fur and was
impossibly far from the ground. If this was a man, he must have
been at least close to 8 feet tall.
I blinked a couple of times, convinced I was seeing things.
The thing I was looking at did not disappear.
Instead, it looked at me curiously for a few seconds and
then moved out of my view behind a tree.
I grabbed my fiance's hand, too afraid to tell him what I had
seen because I thought he might go looking for it, and then I
made my way back to our vehicle as fast as I could.
I'm not crazy. This was not a trick of the
light or fog. Something very large with the
face of an ape was looking at me.
I will never forget it. On June 4th, 2001, I stopped at
the beach north of Brookings OR for my usual evening walk with
my golden retriever. When we cross the Creek near
where it empties into the ocean to get to the north and rugged
end of the beach, my dog, who normally runs a block ahead of
me, froze. She did not wish to walk
anywhere in this area. We turned around and took a walk
on the South Beach at 7:15 PM. Heading up the path to the
parking lot, I happened to glance up at the steep hills on
the north. I was stunned to see what
appeared to be two very large men, both dressed completely in
black. I looked again to determine if
they were a threat to me and I saw they were in fact covered in
black and it probably wasn't dark clothing.
The figures walked in a hunched over posture, one right in front
of the other, arms swinging like apes and taking very long
strides. They seem to see me and appear
to be coming toward me. I started to run to my Chevy
Blazer. Part way there I turned to see
if I was being pursued, only to make eye contact with a large
doe perhaps less than 100 feet away.
My golden retriever and I were the only ones on that beach that
night. It was almost sunset, misty,
cloudy and it had been raining all day and the creatures were
heading toward the ocean. This sighting occurred near an
area east and between Gold Beach and Brookings called the
Stackyards, also known as Devils Stackyards.
The area is on the north side of Pistol River.
My brother, a rigging Slinger, and one of our other fellows, a
hook tender, were working in the rigging.
Myself, a chaser, and the other fellow, A yarder engineer, were
working the landing. Communications between the
landing brush were via handheld walkie talkies.
The guys in the Bush spotted something moving across a
Prairie about 2500 feet across the Canyon from the yarder.
They thought it might have been an elk, but weren't sure.
After telling the yarder engineer about it and ask him
what he thought it was, the engineer had me get a rifle with
a scope to get a better look. Both the yarder, engineer and I
took turns looking at this creature through the rifle scope
for approximately 15 minutes. We both came to the conclusion
that the creature was not a bear, elk, deer, or any of the
commonly known big game animals that inhabit these woods around
here. The creature was definitely
walking upright and on 2 legs. It had broad shoulders, reddish
brown colored hair, and it didn't seem to be in a big hurry
getting to where it was going. I could see its arms swinging as
it walked and seemed to have a pointed or conical shaped head.
I couldn't distinguish the facial features as it was just
too far away. This creature was headed in the
east northeast direction from us.
Quartering up the hill across the prairies toward the Ridge of
the hill. We watched the creature until it
disappeared over the Ridge it was headed towards.
On our way home after work we debated what the creature was
and concluded that it was a Bigfoot.
The boys in the brush said that they had the feeling that they
were being watched for a couple of days and the hook tender
mentioned that he had heard noises like sticks breaking and
something walking in the brush while he was working at his
duties at the back end of the unit.
At the time he heard the noises he just passed it off as a bear
or other game animal. He never mentioned anything of
strange odors or of the like. We have heard of several other
reports in the Brookings Gold Beach area in the past 30 years
or so. One of my sons brought over a
photo of a large track with toes and snow he found before
Christmas 2005. My good friend's 12 year old
grandson says he saw a Bigfoot step over a guardrail.
I also had an incident happened to me in the 80s while hunting
deer. I never got a visual of the
critter but heard heavy brush crashing made by something
running on 2 feet. What was really strange about it
was that whatever it was made a really loud vocalization.
It sounded like a monkey, a really loud one.
I heard a similar vocalization on one of the other Bigfoot
websites. I don't remember which one, but
it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up when I heard
the recording. I've been hunting these woods
for a very long time and I've heard every game animal
vocalization at one time or another and was not from
anything that I've ever heard before.
Whatever it was made the vocalization as it was running
through heavy timber and thick underbrush.
In 1969 at the end of August, four other boys and myself when
camping near Babyfoot Lake. I was 16.
At around 11:00 PM. Three of us were asleep and two
were up. Even though we were within the
wilderness area. We had parked our car some ways
down a very hard to negotiate Rd. by a stream bed and had to
send it a small hill where there was a campground with easy water
access. A little further up the stream.
One Boy George went down the hill to get something out of the
car and as he approached the car something which had been hanging
out near it took off and ran downstream.
It was so loud that Matt, the other boy, heard it too and they
said it sounded like a Jeep going through the brush without
a motor. But the real fun started about
two hours later when horrible screams started to be heard from
a distance. The sound eventually woke all of
us up, and I must say they were of an incredibly scary nature.
Not cats or anything even like that, more like metal ripping in
a factory. Eventually it became obvious
that the creature was making its way towards our camp by the
stream and machetes in hand, we all hid deep in our sleeping
bags. The camp spent about 1/2 hour
estimated under siege by something, walking around on its
two feet and continuing to let out these massive whales while
us boys shivered in our sleeping bags in utter terror.
Finally, the creature started to move away, and as it did, two or
three of us look carefully out to see a huge hulking form
moving away in the moonlight. This is absolutely a true story.
Whatever this creature was, its whale could raise the dead.
George and Matt were the only sceptical types and the
experience shook them tremendously.
I was driving home from work in December of 2002.
It was about midnight. I was driving on Hwy. 138
heading east about 15 miles out of Roseburg, OR.
As I rounded a curve in the road, I saw what I thought was a
deer way up ahead. Crossing the road.
I slowed down a bit as I got to where I thought the deer would
be. What I saw was a figure standing
just off the road by a fence with one hand on the fence post
and it turned as I went by watching me.
I thought it was a man so I stopped to see if he needed
help. I got out of my truck with my
flashlight in hand and started walking back toward the man.
I was working the light beam along the fence line when I
heard the most God awful sound I ever heard in my life.
I froze. I was in the military and I work
as a psychiatric nurse and I don't scare easily.
But that scream scared the crap out of me.
It sounded like a dying calf in a hailstorm.
It was ranging in tone, starting out high pitched and then ending
up as a threatening low pitched guttural sound.
I dropped my flashlight and ran back to my truck and spun tires
getting out of there. The next day on my way to work,
I stopped at the same spot. My flashlight was still there.
I didn't notice any footprints, but I did see the tall grass had
been walked through on the other side of the fence.
I looked on all the fence posts in the area where I saw it, but
I didn't see any evidence of hair as to what it looked like.
I only got a brief look as I went by, but it had to be at
least 7 feet tall. I base this on the fact that I
drive a Dodge Ram truck. When I'm sitting in the driver's
seat, my head is 6 feet off the ground.
The spot where this thing stood is in a depression in the
ground. When I park my truck in that
spot and stand where I stood, I couldn't see into the cab at
all. And yet that night I saw it.
Its head was even with mine. I was looking directly out of
the window, not slightly up or down.
I couldn't make out features as it was dark, but the lights of
my pickup slightly illuminated the area where it stood as I
went by. As I said, I thought it was a
man at first who needed help. It looks so human at that
moment. It wasn't until later that I
came to believe that it couldn't have been a man.
No man could have made that sound.
What I remember seeing was a figure standing next to the
fence. Its head followed me as I went
by. It didn't appear to have
shoulders. It looked like the head just
spread out until it became shoulders.
It appeared to have long hair all over.
At first I thought it was a long jacket, like a duster, but as I
look back it had to have been fur.
But it was the scream that stands out in my mind.
It was like a warning. Don't come closer.
At least that was the message I got.
I left Oklahoma City with my two brothers, Bobby and Jimmy and a
friend named John. We headed for Oregon in August
1979 for a possible long term stay.
After a 5 day drive we came to a small town of Drain, Oregon
where Jimmy had been a few years earlier with his ex-wife and
child. After about 3 weeks we settled
in and everything was looking pretty good for us.
A couple months passed and one early October morning in 1979 I
got up and asked my brother Jimmy if he knew of a place to
go deer hunting. He told me that he had been to a
place a few years ago just outside a small town called
Yonkala a few miles South of Drain on Hwy. 99.
So we took off to go check out the area he told me about.
We drove South of Yonkala about two to three miles and turned to
the West on an old logging Rd. We went up the road for about
two miles and came to a fork in the road.
At that time I asked Jimmy do I go left or right.
He told me it doesn't matter. So I turned right and the road
ended up at the top of a mountain about two more miles
up. The road that turned left at the
fork ended at the top of a mountain about 3 or 500 yards
away to the left. Jimmy and I got out of the car
for a nature call. After about 20 seconds Jimmy
told me to look over on the other mountain top.
He saw something move. I looked and I told him that I
didn't see anything. About 10 seconds later Jimmy
told me look, I saw something move.
I looked and told him that I and that's all I could say.
At that time. We saw a big black thing walking
like a man. It walked over to the edge of
the other mountain, the mountain we would have been on if we had
taken a left at the fork in the road.
It was standing there for about 10 to 20 seconds before it
walked back to where we first saw it.
It stopped and looked at us for about 30 seconds, then turned
away. That's when we saw a little 1
standing there beside it. We watched as they walked away
from us over the mountain. They were about 3 to 500 yards
away from us. The big one was about 6 or 7
feet tall and about 3 to 400 lbs Very muscular.
The smaller one was about four to five feet tall and probably
about 100 to 150 lbs. After we got over the shock,
Jimmy and I left and drove down to the fork in the road and saw
a man on a horse. We stopped and asked if his
horse was acting funny or if he saw anything strange.
He pulled out a big pistol and told us he was not worried about
it. We stopped in the town of
Yonkela to get something to drink and told some people there
and they didn't care to talk about it so we left.
I hope you take this story seriously because you're the
first that I've told it to in a long time.
In July of 1978, when I was seven years old, I travelled to
Oregon with my family to visit relatives.
We spent three weeks in the state and I was lucky enough to
see what I think was a Bigfoot. We camped in an area that was
dense and close to a shallow river.
It was almost like the camp was a bald spot with a wall of brush
and trees around it. There was a trail that led to
the shallow river, and although it probably wasn't far, it seems
so to me. The late afternoon was sunny and
warm and everyone but my cousin, my uncle, and myself went to
look for herds of elk. We had campers to sleep in and
my uncle and cousins were both napping when this sighting
occurred. I was outside one of the campers
playing when I heard a rustling of underbrush.
I never smelled anything that I can remember or heard a sound
other than the rustling. When I looked up, I noticed that
a small sapling, maybe the size of the end of a baseball bat,
just bent completely over. The sapling was behind a thick
wall of what appeared to be some sort of Berry Bush.
I'm not sure what kind though. I was curious and walked over to
where I'd seen the sapling bend over, thinking there was a
squirrel hanging onto it or something.
That's when a large hand reached out from behind this brush and
grabbed a handful of berries. I had to be 8 or 10 feet away at
this time. The hand was huge with long
reddish brown hair. It was clear that it was a hand
and not a paw. I stood there in total shock
when I managed to run. I ran for my life.
It didn't chase me or anything, but I saw all I wanted to see of
it. The hand was scary enough, I
probably would have died of fright had I seen the rest of
it. I got back into camp, which was
not far away, but far enough for my napping cousin and uncle not
to hear anything. I never screamed or made a
sound, just ran and sat as close to that camper as I could.
I realized that when I sat down in the dirt that I had wet my
shorts. I was 7 years old and I have
never done that before. I kept my mouth shut until my
mother and other aunts and uncles got back from elk
sightseeing. I told them everything and they
told me that it had to have been a bear.
I described the colour of the hair and I was told that it must
have been black hair that I had seen because the area only had
black bears. I wasn't stupid, I knew the
difference between a hand and a paw and the difference between
reddish brown and black. I managed to let them convince
me that I must have seen a bear and we left and came back to our
home state of Mississippi a few years later.
I was in the 6th grade. We had a library period and we
could look for and check out any book.
I found a book with a black cover and if I'm not mistaken
the title was Bigfoot. I hurried to check this book out
and read it from cover to cover. It wasn't until that moment that
I figured out that the animal that I had seen those years
earlier had a name. I'd never been so excited in my
life. Ever since, I've been interested
in all the sightings, shows, and books.
I've thought about telling my story for years, but I, like
everyone else, have been afraid of the teasing and skepticism of
others. My family says we believe that
you believe what you saw. I will believe it until the day
I die. On the 29th of July in 1977 near
Eagle Creek Bench, I heard what I thought was low voices coming
from the hills on each side of a Creek. 1 low voice or sound on
one side, then another on the opposite side of the Creek.
I was cooking dinner with my small stove and had camp set.
The sound was so strange that I picked up camp and hiked down
the moonlit trail. All the time I felt I was
hearing limbs and sticks. Break above me on the ridgeline.
I was in the middle of my through hike of the Pacific
Crest Trail and had been out hiking since April 2nd.
I'd never heard these sounds in all my hiking or hunting days,
past or present. In the morning I stopped at a
side Creek to fill my water bottles.
I walked above the trail for a deeper pool to dip bottles in
and found where something had crossed and slid over vegetation
going down and then up next to the Creek was a large footprint
in a small sandbar. The other prints were not as
clear, but I wish I would have taken their pictures as well.
I haven't told many folks about the sounds or the prints until
the last few years. I feel that at least in 1977,
Bigfoot was still alive and well.
I do believe there were two communicating across the Creek.
This was summer of 1977 and I lived in Arcada, California,
working as a volunteer botanist for Six Rivers National Forest.
I was helping out a graduate student at Humboldt State
University with his master's project.
We studied wildlife and plants associated with freshwater ponds
in the forest near Willow Creek. One weekend, my girlfriend and I
drove up to Salmon River to go camping.
It's a remote area. It seemed that most people up
that way we're either miners along the river or fire crews.
We stopped and camped at a pool out near the mouth of the Little
North Fork. The next day we hiked up the
stream, went swimming, even saw a black bear on the trail and
later drove home. The following morning, Monday,
my Co workers came to pick me up for the week's work, but I
realized while packing that I was missing the telephoto lens
to my camera. I remember using it on the
little North Fork, photographing a frog, figuring I had laid it
by the stream and forgotten it. I did not join my 2 Co workers.
Instead I called my girlfriend, told her what happened, and
asked if she would like to return to the Little North Fork.
Instead of roaring up there and back about 100 miles, we decided
to make a backpack trip out of it.
We got up there, hiked the trail.
Found the lens. And decided to drive further up
the paved road to a spot. Somewhere near Sawyer's Bar,
where a dirt Rd. followed the North Fork and LED up to a
trailhead where hikers could further follow up the North Fork
and into the Marble Mountain Wilderness area.
It was dusk, so we donned. Packs and got up the trail as
far as we could before it got completely dark.
There were no obvious campsites, so we rolled out our bags and
literally slept in the middle of the trail.
It's old growth forest and we felt pretty alone.
The next morning we got hiking again, following the north fork
of a long forested valley. We passed another couple that
day who had stopped to swim and set up camp.
We hiked on another 4 miles and the trail left the river.
It snaked up along the side of the Canyon and became more of a
narrow path. Always the dirt beneath our feet
was covered with prints of bears.
There were no human shoe prints, just bear prints.
It was getting late again and the topple map indicated a
stream would cross a trail some distance ahead, so we pressed
on, figuring to set up camp there.
We soon heard water at the crossing.
We were very tired and we were ready to drop our packs, but we
both had a very uneasy feeling about the spot and agreed we
couldn't spend the night there. Consulting the map again, we
found that the trail branched a little ways ahead and an
unmaintained primitive path headed up the mountain to a
small lake that we had earlier planned as our destination.
The map showed the Creek to cross the primitive trail
shortly after the path left the main trail.
We figured the trail junction might be a good place to camp
since it would be close to the Creek, but hopefully without the
feelings we experienced here soon.
We got there and found a small open area between the trees,
just off the trail level and large enough for our sleeping
bags and a fire. We dropped our stuff, then went
down the start of the primitive trail to the Creek, about 20 to
30 yards. It was in a steep, boulder
choked, densely forested draw full of log jams left from
spring or winter torrents. It was barely a Creek.
Now in Midsummer it was getting dark and again we had a bad
feeling about being down in the Creek bed.
We hurriedly filled our cooking pots with water and got back up
to our packs. We.
Were tired after cooking. I remember arranging our pots
and pans along a log on one side of us, and the fire on the other
side. I hoped if a bear entered camp
during the night, he might knock the pots off the log and thereby
wake us up sometime in the middle of the night.
I had no watch, but the fire was completely burned down to ashes
and coals. I awoke to a terrible racket
going on down in the stream bed through the trees below us.
It was the sound of logs and large rocks being hurled and
crashing into things. I sat up in the dark and
listened. I shook my girlfriend and told
her to wake up. She at first buried her head in
the bag because she didn't want to hear the sounds.
We were really scared. It was totally dark.
I knew there was no one around for miles and I also knew that
bears do not go rampaging around throwing things.
I also knew darn well that anything living out there could
probably smell the remains of our fire.
Whatever it was, it was clearly spending a lot of energy either
trying to scare us or angrily searching for something in one
of the log jams. After listening for maybe 10 to
20 minutes, it's really hard to know how long my worst fears
were realized. The crashing sound stopped and
soon there was the sound of footsteps coming up the slope
directly toward us, and they were clearly audible heavy
footsteps. By this time my girlfriend was
wide awake like me, listening. Although neither of us said it,
we both were thinking of what it had to be.
With the footsteps came the sound of laboured breath.
Whatever it had been up to in the stream bed clearly had been
hard work. I had a sheath knife, but
standing to fight seemed out of the question.
It was dark, this thing was big and I was petrified.
Just as it came up behind the trees immediately surrounding
us, I flicked on my little flashlight, hoping to keep it at
Bay with the light. The creature stopped just behind
the nearest tree trunk, 15 feet away and just stood there
breathing. The sound of the breathing was
at least 7 feet up in the air. I yelled hey with as loud a
voice as my adrenaline could muster.
The breathing paused momentarily and the creature made a sound in
response, not to me directly, but more to itself.
It was very careful not to reveal itself and use the tree
to avoid my light striking him. After this, it turned and walked
through the brush and trees directly away from us, not back
toward the Creek, but parallel with the Creek heading
downstream. The stride was unhurried.
We quickly built the fire back up and stayed awake until dawn.
After the sun came up, we got some sleep.
After breaking camp, we dropped down to the Creek before heading
up the path on the other side. I looked around briefly to see
if I could see what the creature had been doing, footprints,
etcetera, but I found nothing. I wish now I had gone down or
upstream a bit, since the sounds may not have originated at the
crossing like I assumed at that time.
We got up to Lake of the Isle in the afternoon.
There were some old campsites there, but no recent evidence of
people. The place was scoured of
firewood, though I spent a lot of time hauling wood up the hill
so we could have enough to last all night.
I also stockpiled throwing sized rocks.
That night we couldn't sleep. We could hear rustling in the
brush near camp. I would throw rocks in the
direction of the sounds, probably raccoons or black
bears, and built up the fire some more.
We did that all night until dawn.
We finally got some sleep. When we awoke we both decided to
bag it and hike out. We packed our packs and hiked
all day the last mile or so to the car.
We hiked in late dusk. The thought of spending another
night out there was out of the question.
We were so paranoid by this time.
We jogged the last half mile. That's it for the incident.
Although we did not actually see the creature, neither of us have
any doubt as to what it was. Up until that point in my life,
Bigfoot stories were like the Loch Ness Monster, something
intriguing that you sort of want to believe in but could never be
sure about. For me, the matter of Bigfoot's
existence was resolved that night.
As a new High School graduate in 1977, I planned a camping trip
to an area near a Boy Scout camp called Wolfeboro with my new
girlfriend. As an Eagle Scout and an
athlete, I wanted to impress my friend.
Who loved the outdoors? The destination was around a
damned watershed called Spicer's Reservoir.
There was a dirt logging Rd. turn off from Hwy. 4.
Between Bear Valley and Angels Camp we drove down this windy
dirt Rd. crossing over a little bridge that crossed over a very
shallow Stanislaus River until we reached the end of the road
at the dam. We packed about a mile down the
river, the Green Waters River. I think that ran out of the
bottom of the dam. Only one side of the river had a
hiking trail. The other side of the river was
a very steep and rocky bank. This was in the middle of the
week and I knew from my scouting and other trips that very few
people were seen in this area. I was setting up camp at a
clearing next to the river and my girlfriend was fishing.
She had a tangled line so she was wading into the stream.
She yelled up to me that she saw someone crossing the river above
us some distance from the other side of the river, effectively
to warn me not to be surprised if they walked past on the
trail. Nobody came down the trail and
we forgot the incident. An uneventful evening passed.
The next day we decided to break camp and go back to the
Stanislaus. Maybe there was better fishing
there. This obviously required us to
backpack to the car and drive a few miles to the little bridge
crossing the Stanislaus River. We parked next to the bridge and
found what looked like a fishing trail.
We packed along the trail, if you could call it that, until it
was too difficult to hike. There was a lot of little Pines
close together, and there was getting to be bigger and bigger
granite boulders in our way. We found a clearing some 20
yards from the river. I pitched the tent next to a
dried Creek bed. The Creek bed was a few feet
wide and the tent was a dozen feet from it.
The rear of the tent was a few feet from a slope consisting of
huge boulders and small Pines. We made a campfire when evening
fell. It was a clear moonlit night
except for the Thunder we heard in the distance.
Anyway, later in the evening when we're about to turn in, we
heard strong screams coming from the upstream direction.
The screams occurred periodically for half an hour to
an hour. I rationalized them to be a sick
or injured range cow. During my scouting days, I was
told that cattle roamed the area and the snow.
Level would effectively herd them down the River Valley.
We went to bed and must have only been asleep for a couple of
hours when the Thunder clouds were close enough to wake us.
I wanted to put some things, my shoes and such, in the tent so
they wouldn't get soaked from the rain.
Once back in my sleeping bag, I stayed awake listening when I
heard two footsteps behind us on the rocks of the dried Creek
bed. I listened more intensely and
heard two more steps than a pause.
I was really scared, especially since the movie Friday the 13th
had been playing. I really thought it was a person
stalking us. I attempted to peer out the back
mesh window of the tent. Nothing was said between me and
my friend and I didn't want to alarm her even though I was
scared stiff. What I did see was a large
silhouette standing and then moving at 2 steps at a time
between a tree in that dry Creek bed.
After what seemed like a long time, the thing walked
deliberately past our tent toward the river.
The front part of the tent faced the river and was zipped closed.
But this thing that I believed was Bigfoot started splashing
and making that strong high pitched screaming noise at the
river. I then heard footsteps coming
toward our tent and stop right in front of the tent.
My hand was on my buck knife. Then I heard it run away.
I think after a while we must have said something like did you
hear that? Let's get out of here.
Daybreak was only a short time off and we waited for the first
sign of light. We hastily packed up camp and
drove home. We talked about maybe checking
with the Ranger, but we didn't. We eventually tied the fisherman
crossing the river the day before below the dam to maybe
not being a human but a Bigfoot. This so-called fisherman
crossing the river was dressed in very dark clothing.
My girlfriend said that seemed odd since it was so bloody hot.
I haven't changed my story in decades.
You can even contact my old girlfriend if you like.
A friend of mine with a mother that sold real estate in the
Angel Camp area had heard that some of his buddies driving
their jeeps on the logging roads had sighted what they thought
was a Bigfoot. This happened many many years
ago, but it's still fresh in my mind.
I guess you never really forget. These types of experiences.
It was late July of 1977. My family was up in the Eastern
Sierras near Mono Lake, approximately 13 to 15 miles
above Conway Summit in an area known as Virginia Lakes.
My dad told my brother and I to go to the lake and gather
firewood. It was late in the day and the
sun was down, but it wasn't dark yet, only dusk.
I was 14 years old and my brother was one month shy of 16.
He had his learner's permit, so we were allowed to take the
truck. We got to the lake and started
loading up some wood. I just returned to the truck and
dropped the wood when I heard what I thought was someone
walking through the brush. The footfalls were very heavy,
almost like someone was jumping, but the steps seemed pretty
rapidly placed. Where we were gathering wood was
near a large hedge of bushes, approximately 6 to 7 feet high
and very dense, with only one path through the Bush to skirt
the lake without wading in the water.
I turned to the bushes where the sound was coming from and I saw
the bushes shaking and bending as if something large was moving
through the bushes making a lot of noise.
I watched for a few seconds when my brother came running to the
truck, white as a ghost and eyes bulging wide.
I said, Jeff, what was that? He was scared and out of breath.
I don't know, but let's get out of here, he said.
We jumped back into the truck and drove all out.
On the way back to camp he told me that he was only 10 or 15
feet away from it. He heard the stomping and
crashing of the Bush and turned to see a large dark brown head
above the bushes moving rapidly away from him.
He didn't see the face. He was too scared.
He was so scared he crashed the truck into a tree on the way
back to camp. My dad was pretty pissed to say
the least and didn't believe our story even when we were crying
because of how frightened we were.
He finally calmed down and said that we probably saw a bear, but
bears don't walk through heavy brush on 2 legs and my brother
swore that it was not a bear. I think my dad started to
believe that we saw something since we would not go to the
campfire that night and both of us refused to go to the lake
alone for the rest of the trip. Since that time, I've told
several people with very few people actually believing me.
Thanks for listening everyone. Don't forget my books are all
for sale, audio and written. The links are in the description
below. Thanks again.
Take care.