Welcome back everyone. Put your feet up, settle in, and
get ready to hear real eyewitness reports of terrifying
encounters with Bigfoot. In October of 2015, a Carpenter
staying at a remote cabin on Alaska's Kenai Peninsula
reported a night of pounding and terror that left him convinced
something massive and intelligent had come to his
door. What began as a routine work
trip turned into an encounter with a creature he still
struggles to describe, a being that seemed determined to test
the walls between him and the wilderness outside.
The Kenai Peninsula is rugged country even by Alaskan
standards. Miles of spruce and Birch forest
run uninterrupted across hills and valleys interspersed with
rivers and marshes. Moose and barren wolves roam
freely, and human settlement thinsed almost nothing the
deeper you go inland. In October of 2025, a 38 year
old Carpenter from Anchorage had been hired to repair and
reinforce a private hunting cabin.
The cabin sat on the edge of a small clearing near a Creek,
accessible only by foot or ATV. His plan was to stay for five
days, completing repairs and adding a new porch before the
heavy winter snow set in. By his third night, he had
settled into a routine. He worked during daylight,
cutting and fitting boards, and retreated to the cabin after
dusk, eating meals on a small propane stove.
Outside, the forest fell into early darkness.
The first two nights were uneventful.
He heard the distant cries of owls and the occasional crunch
of moose moving through the brush.
But on the third night, October 14th, he began to feel watched
while stacking lumber near the porch.
Just before dusk, he noticed the forest had gone silent.
No bird calls, no small movements, just stillness.
He shrugged off the feeling, chalking it up to isolation, and
kept glancing toward the tree line as he worked.
After dark, he sat at the small table inside the cabin, eating
dinner while reading from his phone.
The wind rattled the windows now and then, but otherwise the
night was quiet. Around 9:30 PMA, Sudden heavy
thud shook the cabin. It sounded as if someone had
slapped the outer wall with a massive open hand.
Startled, the Carpenter set down his fork and listened.
A second blow followed, louder, striking the back wall near the
bedroom. Dust sifted down from the
ceiling beams, then silence. His first thought was a bear.
Black bears are common in the area, and brown bears were not
unheard of. But this didn't sound like a paw
swipe or the scratch of claws. It sounded like an impact,
deliberate and flat, like a hand.
He retrieved his flashlight and rifle east to the nearest window
and shown the beam into the clearing.
The yard was empty, the ATV still parked beside the lumber
pile. Beyond the circle of light, the
forest was a wall of darkness. Minutes passed.
Then another blow came, this time to the opposite wall, as if
whatever was outside had moved around the cabin.
The sound was so loud it rattled the dishes in the cupboard.
The carpenter's heart raced. He clicked off his light, moved
to the centre of the room and listened.
He could hear faint movement, heavy steps in the leaf litter
circling the cabin. Then came a new sound, a deep
huff, like a huge set of lungs exhaling just outside the wall.
It wasn't the sound of a bear sniffing or grunting.
It was deeper, almost like a low growl.
He crouched by the window, barely breathing, and peered out
through a gap in the curtain. In the faint moonlight he saw
movement between the trees, something tall and broad moving
upright, its silhouette cutting across the pale tree trunks.
It paused at the edge of the clearing, partially obscured.
The height alone froze him. This was no bear.
On its hind legs it was far taller, bulkier with arms.
Its outline was ragged with hair, the head sloping into a
conical shape. He ducked back from the window,
clutching his rifle. For the next hour, pounding
continued sporadically. Sometimes it was a single blow
to a wall. Other times it was a series of
thuds. Twice the door rattled, as if
something had pushed against it. The Carpenter sat in the dark,
back to the table, rifle across his knees.
His breathing was shallow, his ears strained for any sound.
Each impact vibrated through the floor, reminding him how thin
the cabin walls were. The strangest moment came just
before midnight. A long, heavy scraping ran
across the back wall, followed by a loud crack as a tree
snapped near the corner of the porch.
The sound was unmistakable, a display of power.
Suddenly, the noises stopped. The night fell completely
silent, so still he could hear his own pulse.
He waited another hour before moving from his spot, still
gripping his rifle. When he finally dared to look
outside, the clearing was empty. The moon cast pale light across
the lumber pile, the ATV, and the tree line.
Nothing moved. He slept a little that night,
but every creak of the cabin sent his heart racing.
At first light. He stepped outside cautiously.
Frost glittered on the grass, and around the cabin he found
evidence of the night's events. Two of his stacked boards
knocked over, 1 snapped nearly in half and impressions in the
damp soil where something heavy had stood.
The prints were indistinct, but they were very large, far larger
than his own boot prints spaced at intervals suggesting a
bipedal stride. Several saplings near the porch
were bent and broken at heights too tall for him to reach.
No claw marks marred the walls, no teeth marks on the boards,
just impact dense where something had struck with force.
He packed up his tools, loaded the ATV, and left the site by
mid morning. Though he returned later to
finish the job, he never stayed overnight again.
The carpenter's glimpse was brief, but the image stayed with
him. The figure he saw was massive,
at least 8 1/2 feet tall, shoulders nearly 4 feet wide,
and the body was covered in dark, shaggy hair.
Its arms were long and muscular. The head was conical, with a
sloping forehead and a heavy brow Ridge.
The outline of the face was broad.
These details were hard to see in the moonlight, but what
struck him most was its sheer size and upright posture, moving
silently except when it wanted him to hear.
The night's events suggested more than random curiosity.
The creature circled the cabin, striking walls, scraping wood,
and snapping trees. Each action seemed designed to
intimidate, not harm. It never tried to break a window
or force the door, though it clearly could have.
Instead, it demonstrated power from outside, making sure he
knew he was surrounded. This behavior fits a pattern
reported in other remote encounters loud impacts,
displays of strength, and prolonged presence without
direct attack. The Carpenter often replayed
that night in his mind. How long had the creature been
watching him before it started? Was it drawn by the noise of
construction or the scent of food?
He also wondered why it left so quickly.
Did it lose interest, or was it satisfied it had driven its
point home? Whatever its motive, the
experience ended his sense of security in Alaska's
Backcountry. Even years later, he admitted
the memory of those pounding fists and the silhouette in the
trees still haunted him. The October 2015 Kenai Peninsula
incident stands out as a textbook example of intimidation
behaviour. At a remote cabin, a lone
Carpenter deep in the Alaskan wilderness spent a night
listening to pounding fists on his walls, heavy steps circling
and a silhouette at the tree line that defied ordinary
explanation. For him, the event marked a
turning point. He had always considered himself
at ease in remote settings. After that night, he understood
there were things in the forest larger, stronger and more
terrifying than any bear. The Allegheny National Forest
covers more than 1/2 a million acres in northwestern
Pennsylvania. It's dense hardwood ridges, deep
hollows and miles of logging roads create an environment
where solitude comes easily and wildlife thrives.
On summer evenings, the forest often falls into a hush, broken
only by the calls of owls or the rush of a nearby stream.
The couple, both in their early 40s, often took drives into the
forest after work. They like to find quiet pull
offs, light a small grill and enjoy the peace of the woods.
On June 12th, they picked a spot off a gravel forest road near
the Clarion River, where a small clearing sat tucked against a
backdrop of thick timber. They parked their SUV near the
tree line, carried A folding table and chairs into the
clearing, and set up a portable propane grill.
The evening was mild, and the sound of insects filled the air
as dusk settled in. For the first hour, the outing
went as planned. They cooked hamburgers, talked
quietly, and watched the light fade through the trees.
A few deer grazed at the far edge of the clearing, barely
visible as shadows lengthened. As the woman later recalled, the
forest felt unusually still, though at the time she thought
little of it. They laughed 8 and set aside a
few leftovers to cool on a plate while they relaxed in their
chairs. Not long after full darkness
fell, they heard the first noise.
A heavy crack echoed from the trees beyond the clearing, like
a thick branch snapping. The man stood and shone a
flashlight toward the sound, but the beam revealed nothing beyond
the dense underbrush. A few minutes later, another
noise followed, this time a heavy thud, as though something
large had stepped down hard on the forest floor.
The woman grew uneasy. They whispered about bears, but
both admitted that the sound seemed heavier than any black
bear they had encountered. The man decided to pack up
early. He returned to the grill to shut
off the propane, but as he bent over, a new sound stopped him
cold. A deep exhale from the darkness
behind them. Suddenly, a loud pounding struck
the trees at the edge of the clearing. 3 rapid impacts
echoed, like someone hammering with enormous fists.
The couple froze, eyes darting toward the sound.
The man swept his flashlight beam toward the trees.
For a second, two bright eyes reflected the light set high
above the ground. Far taller than a human, the
beam caught a massive outline. Then the figure moved, vanishing
deeper into the trees. They backed toward the SUV, fear
rising, but before they could reach it, the pounding started
again, closer this time, circling the clearing.
The next moment sealed the encounter in their memories.
From the shadows, the massive figure stepped into the
clearing, crossing the edge in two strides.
The flashlight beam caught it fully now, an enormous upright
creature covered in shaggy dark hair, shoulders extremely wide,
arms long enough to hang near its knees.
It ignored the couple at 1st. Instead, it moved straight
toward the folding table and grill.
With one motion, it struck the grill with its arm, overturning
it violently. The metal clattered against the
ground, scattering food, plates and the propane canister.
The woman screamed, clutching her husband's arm as he tried to
keep the light steady. The creature stood over the
wreckage for a moment, chest heaving, and then let out a
growl so deep that they felt it vibrate through their bodies.
The man shouted And fumble for the keys.
The creature turned its head toward them, eyes glowing
faintly in the beam. For a few horrifying seconds, it
seemed to consider closing the distance.
Then, with a sudden motion, it turned and strode back toward
the trees. In two or three long strides, it
disappeared into the timber. The sound of heavy steps and
breaking branches echoed for several moments before fading
into silence. The couple scrambled into their
SUV, slammed the doors and quickly drove out of the
clearing. The couple both gave consistent
descriptions. The creature stood at least 8
1/2 feet tall, it's build massively muscular and a barrel
shaped chest and long arms. Dark brown hair covered his
body, hanging in shaggy mats. Its head was conical, the brow
Ridge heavy, casting deep shadows over its eyes.
The face itself was broad, with a wide, flat nose, thin lips,
and skin that appeared dark and leathery under the hair.
The eyes reflected brightly in the flashlight beam, appearing
reddish at times and white at others depending on the angle.
The growl it produced was unlike any sound they had ever heard.
Deep and powerful enough to vibrate through their bodies,
the creature's actions appeared deliberate.
It circled the clearing, pounded on trees and then entered only
to target the grille and table. It ignored the couple directly,
except for the moment it turned its eyes on them.
Its behaviour seemed focused on intimidation, destroying their
equipment and demonstrating its power without physical harm to
them. The couple interpreted it as a
clear message they were not welcome there.
The encounter left a deep mark on both.
The woman refused to return to the forest for years, avoiding
even short walks. The man, once an avid
outdoorsman, admitted he never again felt at ease in the
Allegheny Woods. They confided the story only to
a handful of close friends, fearing ridicule.
But in private, they remained convinced of what they saw.
It was a massive, upright creature that deliberately
destroyed their campsite before retreating into the night.
It was a Bigfoot. In May of 2012, a fisherman
spending a quiet morning on Lake Wichita in Central Arkansas
discovered his bait bucket smashed and emptied, only to
catch sight of a massive, upright creature walking away
from the shoreline. What began as a routine fishing
trip turned into an encounter he has never been able to explain.
Lake Wichita is one of the largest reservoirs in Arkansas,
covering more than 40,000 acres. Surrounded by the Ouachita
National Forest is a place of long coves, rocky shorelines,
and dense stands of pine and hardwood that run right down to
the water's edge. For anglers, it's both a
paradise and a place of solitude.
The fisherman, a 54 year old man from Hot Springs, had been
visiting the lake for decades. On May 20th, 2012, he launched
his small aluminum boat from a public access ramp near a quiet
Cove. His plan was to fish for bass
most of the morning using live bait kept in a 5 gallon plastic
bucket fitted with a lid and aerator.
He reached a narrow inlet by sunrise, beached his boat on a
gravelly bank and set up his rods.
The morning was calm, the lake surface glassy, and the calls of
birds echoed across the water. He fished steadily for two
hours, catching and releasing several small bass.
Around 8:00 AM, the fisherman took a break.
He set his rod down, placed his bait bucket near the water's
edge, and walked a short distance up the bank to relieve
himself. When he returned to the
shoreline, something immediately caught his attention.
His bait bucket was no longer upright.
It was laying on its side in the gravel.
The lid cracked and bent, the contents spilled.
Several shiners flopped helplessly in the dirt, while
others were gone entirely. His first thought was raccoon or
Otter, but as he bent to inspect the bucket, he realized the
damage didn't match. The lid had not been gnawed or
pawed at. It had been smashed with force.
A strange unease crept over him as he collected the surviving
bait. Then, from the woods behind him
came the sound of heavy footsteps.
The sound moved away from him, up the slope of the bank.
Heart pounding, he stood upright and looked toward the tree line.
There, about 40 yards away, he caught sight of it.
A massive figure was walking steadily uphill, back turned to
him. It was upright, broad shouldered
and covered in dark, shaggy hair that rippled as it moved, its
legs bent in a long, powerful gait.
The fisherman froze, his mind racing.
The figure was easily over 8 feet tall, dwarfing the
surrounding brush. Its head was conical in shape,
sloping into a heavy brow Ridge, though from the rear he could
see little of the face. The creature never turned or
paused. It moved with purpose, striding
toward the deeper forest, leaving broken branches in its
wake. The fisherman later described
the moment in detail. The creature's hair was dark
brown, almost black, with lighter patches near its
shoulders. The body was massively built,
barrel chested, with visible muscles even beneath the thick
hair. Its arm swung long and low, and
its hands, though not clearly visible, appeared broad enough
to wrap around the bucket easily.
Its stride length struck him most of all.
Each step covered more ground than any human could manage, and
within seconds it had put distance between them, vanishing
behind the trees. Though it had not turned on him
or made a sound, the fisherman felt overwhelming fear.
The smashed bucket at his feet was proof that it had been
close, closer than he ever wanted it to be.
He scrambled into his boat, shoved offshore, and went toward
open water. Even as he fumble with the
motor, he kept glancing at the tree line, half expecting the
creature to reappear. Back at the ramp, he inspected
the bucket more closely. The lid bore a deep crack that
looked as though it had been pried or struck by immense
force. The aerator hose had been torn
loose, and the sides of the bucket were dented in a way no
small animal could manage. He told no one at first.
Only months later did he share the story with a fellow angler
he trusted, who admitted he had heard rumors of something big
around the back coves of Lake Wichita for years.
The incident suggested purposeful behaviour.
The creature had clearly examined or handled the bait
bucket. Smashing it open to get to the
shiners demonstrated both strength and intent.
Its decision to walk away calmly rather than confront the
fisherman showed restraint. Yet the timing, taking the bait
while the man was only a short distance away, implied
confidence and boldness. The fisherman still wonders how
long it had been watching him before he left the shoreline.
Did it wait for the moment he walked away to take the bait?
Didn't know what was inside the bucket?
Or was it simply testing an object left by a human?
More troubling was the thought of proximity.
If it had the boldness to approach within yards of him to
take the bait, what stopped it from coming closer for him?
The event erased all doubt. The damage to the bucket, the
heavy steps, and the sight of the towering creature left no
other explanation. A Bigfoot came and took his live
bait. In October of 2018, a seasoned
hunter in New York's Adirondack Mountains stumbled onto a scene
that still haunts him. While scouting for Black Bear
sign near Cranberry Lake, he discovered a massive hair
covered creature crouched over a fresh kill.
What followed was a terrifying standoff in the autumn woods,
one that left him convinced he had come face to face with
something far beyond any known predator.
Cranberry Lake sits deep within the northwestern section of the
Adirondack Park, surrounded by thousands of acres of wild
forest. Logging roads, game trails, and
old fire lanes wind through mixed hardwood and pine where
moose and bear roam. The area is rugged and isolated,
a place where a person can walk all day and not see another
soul. The hunter, a 47 year old man
from Plattsburgh, had been hunting the area for nearly two
decades. He knew the terrain intimately
and felt comfortable alone in the Backcountry.
On October 9th, 2018, he parked his truck at the end of a dirt
Rd. before sunset and hiked in with his three O 8 rifle to
check on a bait site he had prepared earlier in the season.
He moved slowly along a faint game trail, scanning for fresh
sign. Black bears were plentiful in
the area and he hoped to fill his tag before winter.
As he neared the bait site, a hollow where he had placed sweet
feed and old fruit, he noticed the woods had gone unnaturally
quiet. No squirrels were chattering, no
birds calling. The only sound was the faint
hiss of wind through the high branches.
His first thought was that a bear was already at the bait.
He slowed, easing the rifle into his shoulder.
Through a gap in the trees he saw movement at the bait site, a
large shape, hunched low to the ground.
At first he assumed it was a massive black bear, though the
shape seemed wrong. He edged closer, his boots
silent on the damp leaves. Then the shape shifted, and his
stomach clenched. This was no bear.
Crouched over the bait pile was a creature unlike anything he
had ever seen. It was enormous, its back broad
and shaggy, its arms long and muscular.
Dark hair covered its entire body.
The hunter froze, gripping the rifle, his pulse hammering in
his ears. It was only then he noticed the
carcass. A young deer, likely a yearling,
lay sprawled near the bait pile, its hind quarters torn open.
The creature was digging into it with its hands, pulling chunks
of flesh free and lifting them to its mouth.
The smell hit him next, a thick, musky odor mixed with blood and
decay. The scene was primal, almost
surreal. The creature crouched low, its
back humped, shoulders rolling as it tore at the meat.
Its massive hands worked with deliberate strength, fingers
slick with blood. The Hunter's mind raced.
He had heard stories of Bigfoot but had never believed them.
Yet here in front of him was something hair covered and
powerful, feeding on a kill like an apex predator.
He later described the creature with remarkable clarity, despite
his fear. It stood when it rose, at least
7 1/2 feet tall, its shoulders over 3 feet wide.
Its arms were massive, heavily muscled and extremely long.
Its hair was dark brown to black, thick and shaggy, with
patches matted across the chest and forearms from blood.
The head was conical, the brow Ridge heavy, giving it a
distinctly non human look. The face was broad, with a wide
flat nose, thin lips, and deep set eyes that seemed to shine in
the dim light. The skin visible beneath the
hair was dark and leathery. As he watched, the creature
seemed to sense him. It lifted its head from the
carcass and sniffed the air. Then, slowly, it stood upright.
The full scale of it hit him. The creature loomed over the
deer carcass, its chest rising and falling, arms dangling at
its sides. Blood stained its forearms and
chest. Its eyes locked onto his
position through the brush. For a moment, they just stared
at each other. The hunter later said he had
never felt such raw, instinctive fear.
He raised his rifle slightly, but did not aim directly at it.
His hands trembled. The creature gave a low,
guttural huff, a sound that vibrated through the trees.
It took one slow step toward him, then another.
The hunter stepped back, finger hovering over the trigger, but
some instinct told him not to shoot.
He knew a wounded bear could be deadly.
This thing was larger, faster, and far more intelligent.
The creature stopped about 20 yards from the carcass.
It straightened to its full height, squared its shoulders
and let out a deep growl. The sound rolled through the
woods like distant Thunder. Then, in a single fluid motion,
it turned back to the kill, grabbed the deer by its hind
leg, and dragged it into the trees.
Branches snapped as it disappeared into the dense
undergrowth, the sound of its movement fading within seconds.
The hunter stood frozen, rifle still raised, heart pounding.
The clearing smelled of blood and Musk.
Only a smear of Crimson and scattered leaves marked where
the carcass had been. He backed away slowly, eyes
scanning the woods, then turned and walked quickly back to his
truck. By the time he reached the road,
his legs were shaking so badly he could barely drive.
Later, when he returned with a friend, the bait site was empty.
Large impressions marked the ground where the creature had
stood. Several trees were bent and
broken where the creature had dragged its kill into the brush.
The encounter suggested deliberate behavior.
The creature had taken a deer, possibly haunted itself, and was
feeding when the hunter arrived. When it realized it was being
watched, it stood its ground, then chose to remove the kill
rather than attack. This restraint, combined with
the low huff and growl, seemed to signal a warning rather than
aggression. It was claiming its food, not
inviting a fight. The way it handled the carcass
also showed its strength. The hunter has replayed the
events countless times, and the experience changed how he
approached the woods. Once confident and comfortable,
he now haunted only with partners.
Even years later, he could recall the smell, the sound of
the growl, and the sight of the creature's eyes shining through
the trees. On a damp September night in
2021, a man and his brother pulled off a lonely stretch of
highway South of Soldotna, AK. They planned only to sleep for a
few hours before continuing before continuing their fishing
trip the next morning. What began as an uneventful
roadside stop ended in a violent shock that neither of them had
been able to forget. The Kenai Peninsula Highway
snakes through vast spruce forests, boggy muskeg and tidal
flats. Beyond the glow of a few towns,
the road feels like it cuts through a Black Sea of trees.
That evening, the brothers had fished all day and driven until
fatigue set in. Just after 11:30 PM, they turned
onto a gravel pull off used by hunters and log trucks.
They drove a dusty Suburban with a roof box and fishing gear
piled in the back. The night was mild but damp.
Fog drifted low between the trees and wrapped the headlights
in Halos. They parked facing the forest,
killed the engine, and set up a small camp beside the vehicle,
folding chairs, a cooler and a Lantern.
No other cars passed for nearly an hour.
They talked quietly and ate sandwiches, enjoying the
stillness. Yet as the minutes passed, the
younger brother noticed something unsettling.
The occasional croak of frogs from the nearby sloughs stopped.
The woods had gone silent, as if a curtain had dropped.
He felt the hairs on his neck rise.
The older brother laughed it off, but admitted later he felt
it too, The sense of being watched.
Around midnight, they heard a single heavy footfall in the
dark forest, then another, slower, like someone trying to
sneak, but too heavy to succeed. Branches cracked.
The younger brother swung the Lantern beam into the trees, but
saw only spruce trees and blackness beyond.
The sound circled, faded, and then returned from another
angle. Both men stood now, scanning the
tree line, hearts drumming. The older brother gripped A
hatchet that they used to split kindling.
It happened in a blur. A massive shape broke from the
edge of the trees, closing the distance between the forest and
the vehicle in seconds. Neither man saw it clearly at
first, only movement, huge and dark.
Then an enormous hand covered in shaggy hair came down with a
flat, explosive smack on the Suburban's hood.
The metal rang out like a drum. The entire vehicle rocked on its
suspension. The younger brother stumbled
back, nearly tripping over the cooler.
He caught a glimpse in the Lantern glow, a towering upright
figure just beyond the headlights.
Long arms, dark hair hanging in clumps, shoulders like a bull
moose, and a head that rose into a peak.
Its face was broad and shadowed, the eyes reflecting faintly red.
The creature let out a deep, chesty exhale and then stepped
back into the darkness. Both men scrambled for the
vehicle. The younger brother yanked open
the driver's door while the older shoved gear aside in the
back seat. As they fumble, the creature
circled. They heard its weight on the
gravel, then silence. Then a snap of wood on the other
side of the pull off. When the engine finally started,
the headlights caught a glimpse of it moving between trees.
It was taller than any man, its arms swinging low, striding with
deliberate power. The older brother slammed the
door locks like as if it would matter.
The younger floored the gas, spraying gravel as they lurched
back onto the highway. In interviews afterward, the
younger brother estimated the creature at well over 8 feet
tall. He said the shoulders looked
wider than the hood of the truck and the arms thick as fence
posts. There.
The hair appeared dark brown to black, wet and matted with light
streaks on the forearms. The head tapered up with a
pronounced brow Ridge and very little visible neck.
The older brother added that the handprint left on the hood
measured nearly twice the span of his own.
Both men agreed on its behaviour.
It did not rush them or try to open the vehicle, but chose
instead to hit the hood hard, as if to make a point.
The brothers debated the creature's intent for weeks.
One thought it was a warning to leave, like a bluff charge from
a bear. The other believed it was
already curious about their camp and escalated when they didn't
retreat. The slap on the hood was not
random. It was a deliberate, powerful
act. The sound and vibration alone
were enough to terrify them. Combined with the circling steps
and the breathy exhale, it came across as an intimidation
display. They drove nearly 20 miles
before stopping. Neither spoke for a long time.
The younger brother's hands shook so badly he could barely
keep the vehicle on the road. At dawn, in a gas station
parking lot, they examined the hood.
A faint palm shape showed where dust had been swept aside.
The surface bore too shallow dance where the metal had bowed
under the impact. What makes the Kenai Peninsula
incident stand out is the combination of stealth, power
and restraint. The creature approached silently
enough to catch two alert men off guard, then struck the hood
once rather than launching a direct attack.
The handprint suggests a primate like structure, larger than any
known bear's paw and without claws.
The circling movement, heavy footfalls and deliberate step
back after the slap to a high level of awareness and control.
Unlike fleeting Rd. crossing sightings, this was a direct
interaction at close range. The smell, sound and physical
evidence all anchor it firmly in the brother's memory years
later. Both men speak of the incident
with a kind of awe mixed with dread.
The younger brother keeps the suburban hood as a souvenir in
his garage. The older brother avoids a night
driving alone in the peninsula. They described Notch's fear but
a sense of trespassing, as if the pull off was not theirs to
use. The slap felt like a claim, a
territorial warning. The brothers consistent,
detailed descriptions match other remote area reports, but
with A twist of direct physical contact.
For them, it was more than a sighting.
It was a confrontation, A wordless command to leave.
They did, and they've never camped on a roadside since.
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On November 24th, 2015, I was hunting deer during firearm
season near the edge of Clearwater National Forest, not
far from Elk River, ID. I was behind my property up on a
wooded. Hill I had haunted for years.
The ground was dammed from rain earlier, leaves were stuck to
the dirt and every step was quiet.
I was walking up an old logging path that cuts through a steep
section of the hillside. I stopped at a spot where the
ground levelled off and gave me a good view into the forest
below. I raised my binoculars and
scanned the woods. There was something moving in a
small patch of sunlight about 70 yards down slope.
At first I thought it was a small black bear.
It was hunched down behind a fallen tree.
I couldn't see its face, just the back and shoulders.
Right away I noticed something strange.
There was a thin white line running straight down the middle
of its back. It looked like a stripe, but
very narrow. I remember thinking that was an
unusual marking for a bear. I kept walking, expecting it to
turn and show more of its shape. It stayed in place for several
minutes. The fur was dull black.
The sunlight showed a bit of texture to it.
It was smooth. It also looked smaller than a
full grown bear, more narrow through the back.
Then it turned its head. I saw its face clearly through
the binoculars. It was not a bear.
The face was solid black, darker than the fur.
The skin looked tight and shiny, like black leather.
The nose was broad with large nostrils.
It didn't have a snout. The face was flat and there was
no fur on it. The shape of the jaw, the
forehead, even the ears, they all looked human, just larger
and darker. Its ears were shaped like mine
but sat lower on the head. They were also black.
I kept the binoculars on its face the whole time.
I didn't want to look away. I didn't see arms or legs, just
the upper body and head. As it crouched behind the dead
log, its eyes looked in my direction.
I couldn't see the colour of them, but it was clearly looking
up toward me. It didn't move, it didn't shift
around, it just stayed locked in that position.
While I was watching it, I started hearing small rocks
rolling down the slope above me. At first I ignored it, I assumed
it was chipmunks or squirrels. But the rocks kept coming down
slow and spaced out. They didn't bounce far, they
just dropped and slid a little. I didn't want to turn around and
take my eyes off the creature, but after a few more rocks came
down, I finally looked. There was nothing there.
No movement, no sound. I scanned the slope and trees
above the path. Nothing was insight.
I turned back to the creature, but it was.
Gone. It had vanished without a sound.
No cracking branches, no leaves rustling, nothing.
I stayed there a while, trying to figure out what had just
happened. I thought maybe the noise from
above was a distraction. Whatever was behind me, he may
have been trying to get me to look away.
I don't know for sure. A few people I mentioned it to
tried to explain it away, but I know what I saw.
This wasn't someone in camouflage.
It wasn't a man in a ghillie suit or a strange outfit.
Nobody dresses up like that and crouches behind a tree in the
middle of hunting season when everyone is out there carrying
high-powered rifles. That would be dangerous and
completely out of line with how hunters behave.
The creature's body looks similar in shape to a small
bear, but the face wasn't even close.
It was human shaped. I know what I saw was a
Sasquatch. What I didn't mention earlier is
that during bow season that same year, throughout October and
into early November, I heard strange sounds while hunting
that same hill. The sounds came on three
different days, always in the morning or late afternoon.
They were loud vocalizations that I couldn't place.
The noises reminded me of something wild but not native to
Idaho. They were not owl calls or
coyote howls. They didn't match the rhythm or
tone of any animal I've tracked. Before I wrote.
Them off at the time as strange bird calls or maybe echoes
farther off in the Canyon, but now after what I saw I think
they were connected. This happened in broad daylight.
I had full visibility and I was using binoculars.
From a short distance. I had time to focus and take in
the details. The light, the posture, the
structure of the face, everything was.
Clear. That Ridge has always had elk,
deer and black bear. The same trail that runs just
below where I saw the creature cuts through a patch of dense.
Forest and comes out by a small clearing.
That's where the fallen tree was.
I know the area well and I checked that same spot from a
distance several times afterwards.
I didn't go back to the exact location, but I kept an eye on
it. I didn't hear any more
vocalizations after that week. Since that day, I've been more
careful up there. I don't leave at dark anymore,
and I check the slope above and behind me more often when I
stop. I haven't told many people since
most wouldn't take it seriously, but I know what I saw and I know
it wasn't something that fits with the rest of the wildlife up
there. It was a Sasquatch, and it was
real. On August 15th, 2016, just after
midnight, 12:03 AM to be exact, I was driving home from visiting
some family who had been camping near the Selway River in the Nez
Perce Clearwater National Forest.
I decided to take a shortcut through a remote stretch that
cuts through a Ridge just north of Red River Hot Springs.
That road is narrow, winding and barely maintained, but I knew it
well. I was almost to the county line
when it came around to bend and saw something standing in the
middle of the road. At first glance I thought it
might be someone messing around in a costume.
The headlights hit it dead on and it looked like a person in a
full body monkey suit. I tapped the horn once.
It didn't jump or run off like a person would.
Instead it took off running fast up the road in front of me.
That's when I realized it wasn't a person at all.
The creature ran with long strides.
Its arms were swinging. It was moving fast.
It was covered head to toe in reddish brown hair.
The hair was even in length, maybe 3 or 4 inches long across
the whole body. It wasn't massive, probably
around 6 feet tall, but its frame looked really solid.
Its feet were bare and clearly visible under the headlights.
They looked wide and covered in hair.
It ran for a bit straight uphill on the road, then cut into a
patch of bushes and disappeared off the edge.
The plants tore and bent as it crashed through.
Then everything went quiet. I slowed my car to a crawl as I
came up the hill. My high beams lit up the torn
bushes along the roadside where it had entered.
That's when I noticed it again, just off the shoulder down in
the ditch. It was crouched low and watching
me from below the grade of the road.
The eyes reflected A faint red from the lights.
Then it moved its arm and I saw a rock fly up and hit the edge
of the road near my front tire. Another one came a second later,
bouncing off the gravel ahead of me.
I didn't stick around. I hit the gas and drove past
quickly, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror.
I didn't see it stand up again. It stayed low, hidden just over
the drop off. The next day I drove back
through that same spot during daylight.
I stopped where the creature had entered the bushes and saw
several branches, bent and broken where it had pushed
through. In the soft dirt along the road,
I found Prince clearly larger than a man's and shaped
differently, with more width across the toes.
They were pressed into the edges of shallow mud holes that had
dried along the shoulder. I told my grandfather about it.
He has lived in Idaho his whole life and used to run logging
crews out in those mountains. He said people used to talk
about strange creatures up in that area back in the day.
He told me some of the old hunters called them woods people
or Ridge walkers. He also said there was one older
woman who taught at a small schoolhouse nearby decades ago,
and she told my grandfather that she once saw one standing on her
porch early one morning. Said it was around 7 feet tall
and covered in dark brown hair. She said it stood there looking
in through the front window for several minutes before walking
off into the woods. Some people call that Ridge of
Backcountry Whistle Ridge because of the strange sounds
heard there, long whooping calls or short bursts of
vocalizations. That's not from any familiar
animal. I only got a brief look at the
creature's face during the road encounter, and it wasn't enough
to give a full description. It was too fast and too far in
front of the lights to see clearly.
But the body and the behaviour told me enough.
There's no doubt in my mind that I saw a Bigfoot that night.
In the summer of 2007, I went out to a swimming hole with two
friends. We spend the day at a spot along
the Salmon River. We've been there many times
before. It's quiet, remote and a good
place to relax. We brought our fishing gear,
some food, and the dogs. The water was low and the rock
ledges by the river were wide and dry.
We fished for a while, swam in the deeper spots, and then
stretched out on one of the large flat rocks beside the
water. The dogs were playing nearby.
They ran along the edge of the river, barking, wrestling and
splashing through the water. For a while, the only sounds we
heard were the dogs, the river, and a few birds in the trees.
After some time passed, the sound of the dog stopped.
It became completely quiet. I noticed it right away.
There was no barking, no splashing, and no movement.
Even the birds had gone silent. I sat up and looked around to
see what was going on across the river from us.
There was a small open space just beside the tree line and
that's where I saw a creature. Standing in the clearing was a
large upright Bigfoot. It was covered in dark brown
hair. It faced our direction and did
not move. I could tell that it was
watching us. The dog stood still.
They didn't make a sound. They were frozen in place,
staring at the same spot where the creature stood.
They didn't growl or bark. They didn't move toward it or
back away. They were completely still.
The creature stood in the clearing for about two minutes.
It didn't step forward. It didn't move.
It kept watching us without showing any reaction.
Then it turned away and walked up the slope.
Behind it we could hear the sound of it moving through the
undergrowth. As it went up the hill, the
sounds became fainter until they stopped.
After that it was gone. The next day we came back and
crossed the river to the same spot where it had been standing.
We looked around the area. The grass and plants were pushed
down where it had stood. Some branches on a nearby tree
were broken and bent, and based on how high the branches were,
we estimated the creature had to be at least 7 feet tall.
We didn't find any clear footprints.
I will always remember how still the woods became that day.
The silence was immediate and complete, like everything had
stopped at once, and I had never seen the dogs act like that
either. The two friends I was with never
wanted to talk about what we saw.
They did not deny it, but they made it clear they didn't want
to be involved in any conversation about it.
They didn't want to tell anyone, and they did not want their
names connected to it. I haven't spoken to either of
them in years, but I'm sure they remember what happened.
My father used to sit around with his hunting buddies and
talk about strange things they had seen in those woods.
They spent a lot of time in the mountains and along the rivers,
and they often told stories of odd sounds, strange smells or
shapes they couldn't identify. Most people dismiss those
stories, but after what I saw, I believe they were telling the
truth. I also had classmates in high
school who haunted in the hills above Elk City.
Some of them described strange events such as loud whooping
sounds, powerful smells, and unusually large footprints.
None of them claimed to see a creature like I did, but their
stories sounded similar in many ways.
I know what I saw that day. It was a large Bigfoot covered
in dark brown hair. It stood without fear or concern
and watched us closely before walking away.
In January 2018, me and my family were living in a house
outside of Sandpoint, ID. The house sat on the edge of the
wooded Ridge that led into heavy forest.
Behind the house was a hill that rose sharply, and that hill was
covered in thick Pines and brush.
It felt isolated, especially in winter when snow shut down most
of the roads. We had lived there for years and
over that time we had heard some strange sounds, loud calls from
the hills, knocking in the woods, and noises that were not
easy to explain. My father told me once he saw
something strange out there years ago and I believed him.
It was about 1:00 in the morning on a cold night.
I got up to check on the children like I usually do, just
to make sure they were sleeping soundly and warm.
Their bedroom was on the 2nd floor at the back of the house
near the hillside. There was a small wooden porch
outside that room that jutted into the trees with stairs
leading down into the yard. The hill rose up just beyond
that. As I stepped into their room,
the motion light on that back porch switched on.
It was bright and the shadows it threw reached all the way across
the wall inside. The window next to the porch
door had blinds made from woven straw.
They were lowered halfway so you could see some of the outside
light through the weave. I turned toward the window out
of habit, just wanting to see what had set off the light.
When I looked, I froze. There was something standing on
the porch. It was facing the woods.
Its body blocked out most of the light coming from behind it, but
I could see the outline clearly. It was massive.
The fur was black, thick, and matted.
The legs were heavily muscled. The thighs were especially
large, and the rear end was built up with thick muscle.
The hair was long in some places, clumped together in
others. It wasn't neat or even.
It looked natural and rough. The light from behind the
creature cast its outline clearly through the woven blind.
I couldn't see its face or arms from the angle I was standing,
but the top of his body was tall enough to rise far above the
window. I'm 5 feet tall and the top of
that window frame is over my head.
The creature's shoulders and upper back extended well above
it. It had to be around 8 feet tall.
It turned to face the house directly.
It was no more than six feet away from my children's beds.
I was terrified. I didn't move.
The creature then turned and walked off the porch toward the
trees. It stepped off in a steady way
and disappeared into the dark. Beyond the light, I could hear
nothing. There was no sound of feet, no
grunts, no cracking branches. It was just gone.
I didn't go close to that window.
I picked up my children and brought them into my room.
I stayed up the rest of the night.
Every time I heard the house creak or the wind blow, I
thought it was that creature coming back.
I kept replaying the sight of those thick heavy legs and the
wide build of its body. The fur especially stood out.
It was coal black and had no shine where the light hit it
from behind. The shape was easy to see
through the blind. The next morning I went outside.
I walked carefully around the edge of the hill behind the
porch. The slope was slick with mud and
near the bottom I found 2 long slide marks.
They looked like something heavy had come down the hill and
braced itself. There were no clear tracks or
impressions, but the slides were long and smooth.
This is where the creature had come down the hill and lost some
footing in the mud before stepping onto the porch.
There was no smell in the air and there had been no sound the
night before. When it left, it moved away as
silently as it had come. An animal that size should have
made more noise, but it didn't. I thought back to other events
over the years. My family has heard strange
noises at night more than once. Whooping sounds, wood knocks,
and deep vocalizations that don't match coyotes, owls or any
known wildlife. We never saw anything before
that night, but the sounds that happened often, especially in
late fall and early winter. Years earlier, my father had
claimed he saw something strange on this property.
He never got a clear look at it, but he described something big
walking upright near the same slope.
At the time we didn't talk much about it.
Now it all seemed to line up. For the next few nights I kept
the motion light on and checked every few hours.
The creature never came back and there was no more noise.
The creature was real. It was on the porch only a few
feet from my children. Its size, the hair, and the way
it moved told me everything I needed to know.
It was a Sasquatch. No one could convince me
otherwise. In July of 2022, I went camping
with my family in the Sawtooth National Forest.
We own land near the forest boundary and go there often for
holidays. That 4th of July weekend we
spent most of our time hiking, swimming, and cooking over the
fire. 1 morning we drove out to hike some of the ridges that led
into the deeper parts of the forest.
It was sunny and warm and everything felt normal.
We hiked to a rocky overlook that had views in every
direction. On the way back down, I decided
to take a shortcut by myself. Instead of staying on the marked
trail with the rest of the group, I wanted to move a little
quicker and meet them at the bottom.
The shortcut I chose looked like an old footpath.
It was easy to follow at first, but started to fade quickly the
further I went. Soon I was off the trail
completely, moving downhill through rough ground.
The terrain was steep, full of large rocks, fallen trees, and
thick brush. There were animal trails here
and there, but no signs of people.
I kept moving downhill, figuring I would cross another main path.
Eventually, After about 15 minutes, I stopped to catch my
breath. Then I heard the sound of
something heavy moving through the trees.
It came from uphill behind me. There were steady thumps, like
deep footsteps and cracking branches.
The sound was clear and came from something large walking
through the brush. I stood still.
The hair on my neck went up about 30 yards to the east at a
45° angle uphill. I saw something move through the
trees. The shape was clear through the
gaps in the Pines. It was walking upright, broad
and tall. It moved fast across the slope
without stopping. The creature was covered in long
orange brown hair. Its arms were long and the hands
and feet were dark, almost black.
It was tall, at least 6 1/2 feet, maybe closer to 7.
It didn't run, but it moved quickly, climbing over rocks and
brush like nothing was in its way.
I only saw the back and side of it for a few seconds before it
disappeared behind the trees. I waited, listening.
The sound stopped completely. I didn't hear birds or insects
either. Everything around me was quiet.
I moved slowly toward where I had seen it, but there was no
sign of anything. The brush was too thick to see
more than 20 feet ahead. Then the sound started again,
branches snapping and something large moving, this time behind
me, back in the direction I had come from.
I turned around and began heading downhill.
As I moved, the sound followed. It stayed behind me, but never
got closer. It would move when I moved,
crack a branch and fall quiet when I stopped, and never broke
into a run or crashed through the forest.
It stayed at a steady pace, matching mine from a distance,
but it was like it was pushing me out of the area.
I started moving faster. Every time I stopped to check my
bearings or listen, I could still hear it out there,
breaking branches, heavy steps on the dry ground.
I never saw it again, but I knew it was there.
After about 30 minutes, I found a faint path.
I followed it down the slope and eventually came out on the main
trail. The sound stopped once I got
there. I stood still for a minute and
listened, but there was nothing. I walked back down to the
campsite and found my family. I didn't tell them everything
right away, but later I explained what happened.
They didn't believe me. I know what I saw and what
followed me. It wasn't a regular animal from
these woods. It was upright, covered in
reddish brown hair. It made its presence clear but
kept its distance. I believe that it was a
Sasquatch pushing me out of its territory.
On November 19th, 2012, I was hunting with my stepfather near
Yellow Pine, Idaho. It was the first day of the
season and we were in the mountains West of town where the
ridges are steep and the timber gets thick fast.
We had parked the truck just after 5:00 AM and made our way
into the woods. We split up to hunt opposite
sides of a Ridge that ran through the area.
There was a long narrow saddle with steep slopes on both sides.
I took the east. He moved off to the West at
around 6:00 AM, before daylight broke.
I was sitting just off a logging path when I heard a loud sound
echo through the dark. It came from somewhere across
the Ridge. It was a single whooping call,
deep, loud, and long. It didn't sound like a coyote,
owl, or elk, and it wasn't a bear vocalizing.
It was more powerful and projected across the trees, like
it came through a speaker. It wasn't repeated.
It happened once and then everything went quiet.
A few minutes later my stepfather radioed me he had
heard it too. Neither of us knew what to say
about it and we just moved on with the morning.
We haunted until mid morning and then returned to the truck for
lunch. Around 1:30 we headed back in.
Splitting up again. I decided to try a different
stand 1 I had set up a few weeks earlier in a thicker area.
The stand overlooked A narrow game trail with some large
boulders behind it. The rock sat on a slope that
climbed up into heavy brush and younger pine trees.
That section of woods always felt heavier, darker, and
quieter than the rest. It was a place where we had seen
bear sign in the past and where elk sometimes passed through in
the early hours. I reached the stand and started
climbing the ladder. As I got halfway up, I heard a
deep, aggressive growl from behind me.
It was followed by a loud crack, two rocks slamming together.
The sound bounced through the trees.
The growl had come from the direction of the boulders less
than 30 feet behind me. The noise and suddenness of it
stopped me cold. I turned quickly and looked
back. At first I didn't see anything.
Then I saw movement. Something ducked behind the
largest of the boulders. I caught a glimpse of a head and
part of a shoulder. The head was large and slightly
pointed at the top. The shoulders were broad and the
hair looked thick, either black or dark brown.
I couldn't make out the face clearly because it was in the
shadows. The light in the trees was
uneven, and the spot behind the rock was dark.
It moved fast. It didn't run away, It crouched
behind cover. The moment I turned to look, I
didn't see a full body. I saw the upper portion, but the
size of the shoulders and the speed at which it moved were
enough to tell me it was large and strong.
I immediately climbed back down the ladder.
I didn't run, but I backed away from the area slowly, keeping my
eyes on the boulder. I put some space between myself
and that spot while keeping the area in view.
As I moved further down the trail.
About 100 yards out, I stopped again and looked back.
That's when it peeked out again. I saw the head and shoulder
shift out from behind the rock. It looked directly at me.
The moment it saw that I was still watching, it pulled back
out of sight just as quickly as before.
There was no sound, no movement in the brush, Just silence.
I didn't stick around any longer.
I moved fast down the trail and made my way to the old logging
path that led toward the truck. The entire time I kept checking
behind me, but I didn't see it again.
I never heard it move off. Whatever it was, it stayed
quiet. When I met up with my stepfather
that evening, I told him about what happened.
He looked surprised but didn't question it.
Later that night, after we packed up and were sitting at
camp, we started talking more about it.
That's when he told me that two other hunters from our group had
seen something just a few weeks earlier.
They had been near a food plot close to the road not far from
Yellow Pine. According to him, they had
pulled in just after dark and saw something tall and black run
across the edge of the field and disappear into the woods on 2
legs. What I saw was black and white
through the shoulders. It ducked quickly when it
realized I was watching. Most wild animals don't hide
like that. When spotted they run or freeze.
But this creature hid. It was watching before I turned
and it knew to move out of sight.
That tells me it was aware of what I was doing.
The sound it made, the growl was deep and rough.
It didn't last long, but it was enough to freeze me in place.
Then came the sound of rocks being slammed together.
I didn't see the rocks in its hands, but the noise was
unmistakable. 2 heavy stones hit hard, like someone smacking them
with both hands. It didn't happen again, just
that one time. The spot where I saw a duck down
was clear. The boulders stood taller than a
man and the base of it was pressed in with broken twigs and
disturbed leaves. I didn't go looking for Prince,
and I didn't go back to the stand.
The size of the creature's head and shoulders made it clear this
was no common animal. It was too big.
I couldn't see the face, but the top of the head was rounded and
narrowed into a point at the crown.
It didn't have ears sticking out, and the neck looked short
and hidden by muscle. I believe what I saw was a
Bigfoot. There's nothing else in these
woods that match what I saw and heard.
The whooping sound in the morning, the growl, the rock
smashing, the way it hid, the way it watched me, all of it
points to something intelligent and large living out there.
Since that day, I haven't returned to that tree stand.
I still hunt the general area, but I stay to more open ground
where I can see in every direction.
I haven't had another sighting, and I haven't heard the whooping
sound again either. But I know what I saw, and I
know it's probably still out there.
In early May 2015, I went on a Turkey hunting trip in the
mountains near McCall, ID. I had read that area was known
for good game activity and decided to try it for a weekend
hunt. The plan was to park at a
campground and hike several miles into the woods to set up
camp. My brother and friend came
along. We reached the campground late
in the afternoon. Only one other camper was there,
parked in an RV. We geared up and started the
hike into the Backcountry around 5:00 PM.
The trail was steep and rough with rocky slopes and thick
brush. There were no animal sounds.
It was quiet in the way that made us stop and notice the air
felt still, like the woods were holding their breath.
About 3 miles in, we stopped along the trail that led to a
high Ridge. There was a flat spot beside the
path with room for a tent. We set up camp, had a quick
meal, and turned in for the night around 10.
Around midnight, my brother and I both woke up after hearing a
howl. It was long and drawn out,
lasting close to 10 seconds. It came from somewhere down the
slope. It wasn't a wolf, a dog, or a
bear. It didn't match any sound we had
heard before. I told my brother not to worry,
but deep down it bothered me. By 2:00 AM we were all awake.
My friend nudged me and pointed at his ear.
We all listened. There were footsteps outside the
tent. They were heavy, spaced out, and
came slowly, like whoever or whatever it was chose where to
step. The sound moved closer to the
tent. My brother told me to grab the
shotgun. He said it aloud, not in a
whisper. Right after he said it, the step
stopped. Everything went quiet.
Then we heard a deep grunt. A few seconds later, something
touched the side of the tent. It pushed the nylon wall just
enough to move the fabric. We stayed frozen in place.
The breathing outside was low and deep.
Then the sound of movement began again, this time fading as the
steps moved away from our camp. I got out of the tent with the
light and looked around. I saw nothing.
It was too dark and quiet. Again we stayed alert for the
rest of the night, none of us sleeping much.
The next morning we broke camp and continued uphill.
About 1/2 mile from where we had camped, we found a large pile of
scat. It could have been a bear, but
we couldn't be sure. We hiked a short distance and
set up a new camp in a flat clearing near a patch of dense
pine. That night it all happened
again, around the same time the howling started.
It sounded nearly identical to the one from the night before.
It came from the trees beyond the camp.
Then The Walking began. Just like before, slow, heavy
steps circled the tent. The grunting came deeper and
closer than the night before. Then it touched the tent again,
showing an outline of a hand bigger than a dinner plate.
I reached for the flashlight and unzipped a small section of the
tent flap. I looked out and froze in
terror. The creature was standing about
four feet away, facing the tent. I looked up and it looked down
at me. It was massive.
The top of the head was nearly level with the lower branches of
the trees. Its hair was dark brown with
some lighter strands, and the hair was thick and matted in
some places. I didn't dare shine my
flashlight directly on it, but the face was visible under the
moonlight. It had a broad nose, deep set
eyes, and no hair on its face. The skin was greyish and rough,
like worn leather. The shoulders were huge and its
arms hung lower than a man's would.
The eyes were dark. It didn't move, it just stood
there, looking down at me. I zipped A flap and backed away
quickly. Nobody spoke.
Then we heard heavy footsteps fading away into the trees.
We waited until first light, and as soon as the sun started
coming up, we packed as fast as we could.
We hiked back down without stopping.
We never went back, not to that spot or anywhere near it.
In November of 2001, I went on my first deer hunting trip with
my Winchester 3030, which I had received for my 11th birthday
earlier that year. My father and I had travelled to
the mountains near Kuskia to camp and hunt on private land we
had access to. The land included a large
orchard and was bordered by a stretch of river known for its
trout. We had camped there many times
before. It was a place I knew well and
still remember in detail. We didn't head out until after
sunrise, around 7:30 in the morning.
My dad wasn't one for early starts, especially on private
land where he knew there was no competition.
The air was cold and the sky was clear.
We left the camp house and walked down a narrow dirt Rd.
After passing a small pasture, we came to a long wooden fence
that bordered a hay field. The field ran from the road to
the river about 300 yards across.
We walked along the fence until we reached a corner post.
My dad suddenly stopped and told me to kneel down.
He said he saw a bear at the far edge of the field.
I got excited and knelt beside him.
He raised his scoped 30 ought 6 and looked through it for a long
moment. Then he lowered it and told me
it wasn't a bear. He didn't know what it was.
That caught me off guard. My dad knew every animal that
lived in the woods and he had taught me about them since I was
little. He handed me the binoculars and
told me to take a look. I slowly stood up and scanned
the far end of the field. It didn't take long to find it
There. Standing by the far fence was
something I had never seen before.
It was tall, about 8 feet, with long arms and wide shoulders.
It was standing upright and still facing in our direction.
Its hair was a mix of brown and reddish strands and its face was
mostly bare with dark, leathery looking skin.
Its eyes were large and deep set.
The nose was broad and flat. The creature wasn't moving.
The hair on its body hung evenly and looked clean.
I stood there watching it through the binoculars for about
a minute, then I knelt back down.
My dad and I looked at each other.
Then we stood up again and watched the creature for another
30 seconds. It still hadn't moved.
My dad finally said we should go back to camp.
We didn't rush. We kept an eye on the field as
we walked back. When we reached the camp house,
my dad took my rifle and loaded it completely.
He then loaded his 12 gauge with slugs and pulled out his 300 HR
magnum from the gun case. Well, we ate breakfast.
He asked me again what I saw. I told him and he said he saw
the same thing. He said we should keep it
between US, and for many years we did.
That afternoon, while we were still at the cabin, I happened
to glance out the window. The creature had followed us
back. It was standing partially behind
a tree about 70 yards from the cabin.
It stayed in that spot for hours.
It didn't move much. It just stayed there, half
hidden, barely visible if you didn't know where to look.
We watched it off and on through the windows.
Dad kept his guns close. As night fell, the temperature
dropped. We built a fire in the stove and
sat quietly, not sure what to expect.
Around 9:30 PM we heard a soft tap on the cabin wall, then a
grunt. It wasn't loud, but it was
close. I went to the window and saw the
creature. It was standing just a few feet
away, looking in. The glow from the lamp inside of
the cabin lit up part of its face.
Its eyes were dark and steady. It looked at me for a few
seconds, then turned and walked off into the trees.
It didn't come back during the night, and at first light, Dad
packed our things. We loaded the truck and left.
We never went back to that property again.
Dad never said much about it afterward.
I only told my sons the story after Dad passed away.
It was the only time I ever saw him nervous and that's said
enough for 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.