Settle in, get comfortable, and prepare for another collection
of eyewitness encounters that may change the way you look at
the wilderness. I'm Lynn Smith and welcome to
the Bigfoot Project. This encounter occurred on the
Cabot Trail, Nova Scotia around sunrise.
I work in the oil field industry and have for many years.
When I'm between jobs, I spend as much time outdoors as
possible. Hunting and fishing are a big
part of my life and I travel to different areas to fish and hunt
whenever I can. This happened while I was
meeting my father and uncle for a fishing trip.
They had gone a couple of days ahead of me.
I left just before sunrise. It was around a 2 hour drive to
where we were meeting. There were two ways into that
area. One involved taking a ferry
across a channel and the other was a longer route through a
more isolated area. The ferry wasn't operating that
day, so I had to take the longer route.
After leaving the highway and driving for around 15 or 20
minutes, I reached a bridge. On the right side was what
looked like a lake, on the left side an estuary where the tide
moved in and out. As I came around the turn and
crossed the bridge, I looked left like I usually do in open
areas to see if there were deer or people around, and I saw
something standing in the water. I stopped, put the vehicle in
reverse, backed up. I watched it for around 15
seconds, then it stood up. The second it stood up, I knew I
wasn't looking at what I first assumed.
It did not. Turn its entire body.
It only turned slightly and looked in my direction.
It watched me for maybe 15 seconds.
Then it turned away from me and took three or four steps up the
bank and disappeared into the woods.
I sat there in disbelief. I kept trying to explain it
away, like maybe somebody was playing a joke.
Maybe I had mistaken what I saw. But the way it moved didn't
match anything normal. I've spent enough time outdoors
to know how animals move. This thing came out of the water
upright and walked into the woods in a smooth and natural
way. I drove away, but curiosity got
the better of me. I turned around and came back.
I parked and sat there for around 10 minutes replaying what
I had seen. I got out, put on my chest
waders and walked toward the area.
When I reached where I thought it had been standing, I saw a
gravel and sand area with several large wet impressions on
the ground. I did not go into the woods to
follow. I had no interest in doing that.
Instead, I walked into the water where it appeared to have been
standing. The water came up much higher on
me than I expected. That was enough for me.
I walked back while constantly checking the tree line behind
me. I returned to the car, took off
my gear, and stood watching the area for another 10 minutes
before leaving. When I finally reached the
fishing area, I didn't say much at first, but eventually I
mentioned that I had seen something strange.
I asked if anyone had ever experienced anything unusual out
there. I explained that I saw something
large, very large, and the way it moved was slow and
controlled. Even then, I had a hard time
saying out loud what I thought I saw.
The area was isolated and there were no nearby houses, and the
picnic area nearby was empty. There were no cars.
It didn't make sense for someone to be out there trying to fool
people. And the more I thought about it
afterward, the more convinced I became.
That experience changed how I looked at things.
Since then, I've followed Bakeford reports and read as
much as I can. Years later, while talking with
people near that same area, I eventually spoke with an older
couple. I asked if they had seen
anything unusual. The man told me he had seen
something crossing the water several kilometres from where my
sighting happened. Once he said that, I told him my
experience. It made me feel more certain
that I had actually seen a Sasquatch.
It took me years to talk openly about it because people laugh
and dismiss things like this. A lot of people probably keep
experiences to themselves. What I saw was large, black, and
powerful. Its movement looked natural.
It walked out of the water and up into the woods with almost no
effort. I still think about that
morning, and I've gone back to that area many times since.
Nothing else has happened there. Again.
I've heard strange sounds in the woods since then, sounds I could
not explain, Deep sounds carrying through the distance.
Whenever I hear something unusual now, I think back to
that morning. Part of me hopes I'll see
something again. Part of me hopes I won't.
But every time I go into the woods now, I pay attention more
than I ever did before. This encounter occurred in
northern New York State during my junior high and high school
years. I spent a lot of time trapping
and hunting with my grandfather. He's one of the best outdoorsmen
I've ever known. There wasn't much he didn't
understand about hunting, fishing, and being outdoors, and
he taught me everything he could.
When I trapped with him on the family farm, there was one
section of Creek he refused to trap.
I always wondered why I asked him more than once and never got
a direct answer. To this day I don't know whether
he had a Bigfoot experience there himself because I never
got the chance to ask him later. Eventually he stopped trapping
and passed that work on to me. I started running the lines
myself. I could not see any reason to
avoid that section of creak, so I started putting traps there.
I caught a few muskrats, but nothing unusual.
Then one day I went to check the traps and noticed one was moving
back. Then we used instant kill traps.
If a muskrat got caught, it died immediately.
When I got close enough to see what happened, I realized I had
caught a very large snapping turtle by the back flipper.
It was alive and extremely angry.
I stood in the boat trying to figure out how I was going to
free it without getting hurt. Eventually I decided to distract
it and reach around behind. I managed to get the trap off
and the turtle disappeared back into the swamp.
When I reset the trap, I noticed tracks coming right toward the
trap from the shore were giant barefoot tracks.
The mud had settled enough that I could clearly see toes and
they looked human. They were probably twice or
maybe 2 1/2 times the size of my feet.
I stood there staring at them. I remember thinking there is no
way Bigfoot could be here. I had never heard of sightings
in our area. I noticed the tracks only came
One Direction. They came from the shore to the
trap. Then they crossed the Creek.
After resetting the trap, I took the boat to the opposite side
and moved slowly along the bank. I found where whatever made the
tracks had climbed out and gone into the hardwoods.
I went back and pulled the trap and I never trapped that section
in a Creek again. At that point, I figured my
grandfather probably had a reason for avoiding it.
I never told anybody about what happened, and for years I kept
it to myself for the same reasons most people do.
I didn't want people making fun of me or thinking I had lost my
mind. Years passed after I found those
tracks. I stopped at my brother's place
before hunting because he kept cattle near the woods and I
wanted to make sure they had been moved.
He told me they had already been moved across the road and then
said I might get lucky because somebody had seen a cow moose
near by. Seeing a moose in our area is
rare. We are north of the Adirondacks
and most moose stay farther S though sometimes one wanders
through. I thought that would be pretty
interesting to see. I went to my usual hunting spot
and sat there most of the day watching the clearing.
Evening started coming and I had not seen anything.
I could hear activity back at the farm because feeding time it
started. The cattle were making noise and
I could hear equipment running. I figured my chances of seeing a
deer were probably done for the day.
I started getting ready to leave.
Right then I heard movement directly in front of me in the
thick brush. I'd never heard a moose before,
so I assumed that was what I was hearing.
I focused on the spot. The brush started moving hard.
Whatever was there was large. Then suddenly a head came up out
of the brush. Immediately I knew I was not
looking at a moose. The head had a slight cone
shape, it had heavy brow ridges. And then it stood.
It was a full grown Sasquatch. It stood upright and looked
around. Then it made a deep grunting
sound. It sounded like a person making
a frustrated grunt. After that it simply turned and
walked away. It moved at a calm pace and
through thick brush. Where I live we call that brush
buck brush because deer hide in it.
It's dense and rough and difficult to move through.
This thing walked through it without slowing down.
It was headed back toward the hardwoods.
I sat there stunned. I could not believe what I had
just seen. It was somewhere around 50 to 75
yards away. I got a good look.
Even though it only lasted a few seconds.
It felt longer. While it was happening again, I
kept it to myself and I didn't tell anyone.
But after that day, I started paying closer attention.
I began noticing signs and I started finding tracks.
Some look like clear barefoot human shaped prints.
Other times there were large scuffs in the dirt and I began
hearing tree knocks and once in a while I heard whistles and
sometimes short whoops. At that point I became convinced
there were Bigfoot living in that area.
I didn't have another visual encounter for a couple of years,
but I started watching and listening a lot more whenever I
was outdoors. Several years later, I bought
land that was about 3 or 4 miles from my brother's place.
At the time, I was working in home care and helping elderly
and disabled people stay in their homes.
That year I was finishing work fairly early, so I had more time
to hunt. Almost every day after work, I
went to my land. I had a tree stand overlooking a
field. On one side was a small apple
orchard, and behind the stand there were hardwoods.
That fall I haunted there almost every evening.
There were three dough that came out every night.
I started calling them the Three Stooges because they were so
predictable. You could almost set a clock by
them. They would come out, stand in
the field, graze, play around a little, then cross in front of
my stand and disappear into the hardwoods.
At the time there was no dough season, so all I did was watch
them. But one evening I was sitting
there waiting for them, and right on schedule they came out.
But something was different. They were acting nervous, not
relaxed like normal. The lead doe went alert.
She stood rigid, lifted her tail, made short sounds and
started stomping. She kept staring past me, toward
the corner of the field where the hardwoods began.
I thought maybe there was a buck coming, or maybe another hunter
nearby, so I turned and started watching the same area.
Then I heard movement. I turned back and the deer had
already taken off. They ran into the woods right
after they disappeared. From the corner where I could
not see into the trees, I heard a sound.
I still have trouble describing it.
It was deep, part howl, part grunt, part scream, and it
filled the entire area. It sounded aggressive and angry
and the sound carried through everything.
The second it happened, every animal sound disappeared.
Then all around, distant howling started.
After several seconds, it happened again.
The second call was even stronger.
Then everything stopped. Total silence.
No movement, no noise, nothing. It was like the entire woods
shut off. I decided I had no interest in
staying there. I climbed down from the tree
stand and left. I kept my eyes fixed on that
corner of the hardwood the whole way back.
I had a rifle with me, but I had no interest in finding out
whether it would matter. I made it back to my car and
left. I stayed away from that stand
for about a week. I haunted elsewhere.
Eventually the last weekend of season came.
I wanted another chance at a buck, so I went back.
I stayed most of the day and saw nothing, and late in the
afternoon a buck finally did come out.
It was only around 60 yards away.
I took the shot. The deer dropped.
I climbed down and walked over. It was dead.
I checked it, then I left there and walked back to my truck.
I put my rifle away and changed my clothes because I didn't want
to ruin my hunting coat while field dressing.
When I returned, the deer was gone.
There were no drag marks, nothing.
It looked like it had just vanished.
I grabbed my flashlight and searched.
Eventually I found one leg sticking out of a ditch about 60
feet away. The deer had been shoved into
the ditch and partly covered with torn up grass.
I dragged it back out. While dressing it, I kept
hearing sounds, short bursts and movement.
I only had my small knife with me.
My rifle was back in the truck and I felt exposed.
I finished as quickly as I could, loaded the deer, then I
grabbed a larger flashlight and shined it into the woods.
For a moment I caught a silhouette.
I could not make out the details, but I saw the outline
of a Sasquatch. It turned and walked away.
My feeling was that it had tried to take the deer, but I returned
sooner than expected. I still don't know why it left
it hidden instead of taking it. I never counted that as a full
second sighting, but it came close.
A couple of years passed without another visual encounter.
I still heard occasional tree knocks and found signs now and
then, but nothing major. Then during early muzzle loader
season, I was back on my land again, this time on the opposite
side from where the deer incident happened.
I had a buck come out into the field.
I took my shot with a black powder rifle.
I wasn't sure if I hit it. Whenever I hunt I always check
to make sure because I never want to leave an injured animal.
I looked for blood and couldn't find anything.
I went into the brush and woods trying to locate signs.
There was nothing. I made a wide loop because deers
sometimes circle back. After calming down, I was hoping
I might get another chance. I was almost back where I
started. I stepped into a small clearing
into the hardwoods. Out of the corner of my eye I
noticed something, but at first I dismissed it.
I thought maybe it was a stump, a log, a rock.
I kept walking, then I realized I did not remember anything
being there, so I turned back. What I saw looked like another
hunter sitting on the ground wearing a Gilly suit.
The creature was turned partly away and looking over its
shoulder. My land is posted and I only
allow family to hunt there. I knew none of them would be
there, so I decided to walk over and talk to whoever it was.
I moved in slowly. I acted like I had not noticed I
wanted to get close before saying anything.
When I got about 60 feet away I stopped.
I turned and said something like hey buddy, what's going on?
The second I spoke it stood up and I immediately realized it
was not a person. It was a juvenile Bigfoot.
It was around 4 feet tall. Its hair looked matted with a
mix of brown and grey. The face and hands had much less
hair. Its eyes looked narrow and set
farther back. It had a slight brow Ridge.
The hair started around the middle of the forehead and
continued up into a conical shaped head.
It looked at me for a few seconds, then it turned and
slowly walked away. There was no panic or rush or
fear. It simply walked back into the
woods. I stood there shocked.
I had just spoken directly to a Bigfoot.
I was excited. When I got home and I told my
brother, he seemed unsure but listened and we talked about it.
He eventually said if I saw it, then I saw it.
He knew where I had been, he knew the exact location.
He thought it was strange but didn't think I was making it up.
The rest of that season passed quietly.
I heard some tree knocks another day but didn't see anything
else. The following summer, I was
invited to speak locally about Bigfoot.
After that, someone who had attended had asked me to take
him and his wife out to see the area.
By then I started leaving food gifts.
I had access to expired cookies and crackers and started leaving
them out. I noticed the difference between
what disappeared naturally and what seemed to carry it away.
Food that was taken entirely disappeared with the packaging.
So I continued doing it because I hoped maybe I could build
trust. So I took them out and showed
them several places. I showed them where the deer had
disappeared. I showed them where I had seen
the juvenile. While we were walking away from
the truck, his wife stayed behind.
When we returned, she was standing staring across the
field. She told me something had come
out of the brush and crouched down in tall grass.
She said it had been walking upright.
We grabbed our binoculars and when we looked, we could see a
head above the grass. Every once in a while it moved.
It was clearly alive. We watched it for about 15 or 20
minutes. Every now and then it looked
back toward the brush. I started wondering if something
larger was back there watching, but I never clearly saw another
one. But movement kept happening in
the brush. What stood out most to me was
that other people were there and saw it too.
That made the experience feel different.
A few days after my close encounter with the juvenile, I
returned again. Rain started, so I stayed in my
truck. There was an opening in the
woods where I had cut a dead tree the year before.
Suddenly, something stepped into that opening.
It stood there looking directly at my truck.
Then it moved behind a tree, then looked out again.
It repeated this several times, and this went on for a few
minutes. Later on, I wondered if it was
one of the adults, maybe curiosity, maybe watching, maybe
something else. I never knew, but I counted that
as another sighting. After that I started noticing
little flashes of darker movement in the woods now and
then, never enough for a full sighting, just enough to make me
think something was still around.
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.
In 1992, Rivella Island's hotspot between Ward Lake and
Connell Lake, Alaska, was again the scene of another Sasquatch
report. In an interview in 1996, a
retired Ketchikan equipment operator, Larry Thomas, spoke of
a startling encounter that caused him to draw a gun.
In July of 1992, I was doing security work on the Pipeline
road, now Rubella Rd. just north of Ward Lake, 8 miles north of
Ketchikan. I was working the night shift
driving the then gravel line Pipeline Rd. that goes some
dozen miles north from the mill. The job included driving and
checking all the locked pipeline access gates.
It was a clear night. I had driven up to gate 2 and
the time was approximately 2:30 AM.
Nearing the gate the vehicle headlights picked up something
that made me stop to investigate.
About 7 feet off the ground was a pair of eyes that were shining
whitish, not amber, red or green, right beside a medium
sized hemlock. To see more clearly I slowly
drove forward until I was only about 50 feet away and keeping
the eyes insight I slowly opened the car door and eased out.
With the parked headlights and my flashlight I could make out a
dark upright form with head, arms and upper body visible.
It was still standing and waving its arms to pull the bark off
the hemlock and it did not appear to be a bear.
All the while the eyes were still glowing in the headlights.
They were glowing whitish and appeared completely round.
I could make out that it was chewing or mouthing something.
At that point it ducked down from the place where the bark
was torn off and started walking Man like it was walking to the
left so I whistled loudly and it startled and started walking on
2 legs right toward me on the road.
I noticed it swayed slightly from side to side as it walked.
At this point I was carrying only the flashlight and a 22
calibre handgun when I stopped whistling and backed up toward
the car, which was still running.
It turned to the northwest side of the road and into the Bush.
At no time did it drop down on all fours.
I reached into the car, got on the radio and told the gate
guard who simply advised me to get back in the car and
continue. Several days after that, another
security guard who was a roaming guard for the same company had a
word with me. When I told him what I had
experienced and that for whatever reason the management
was officially passing it off as a bear, he said to me that was
no bear Larry, that was Acoustica.
I don't care what some say. A while back I went through the
same gate. Gate 2 got out to lock it and I
heard a noise. Something hit me on the side of
the head and knocked me out. When I came to I found a rock
beside the vehicle. Another night soon after I saw
it feeding on grubs from a log below the back of the building.
I reported it and they told me not to repeat it, that it was
just a person. The other guard told me that he
had driven out to the spot during daylight soon after and
found tracks and an area where grass had been pushed down.
The guard said his dog had snarled and put his ears back
facing toward the river Ward Creek.
There were several large branches laying around that had
recently been broken off a nearby tree at a height of about
6 feet off the ground. Something else about that night
in July 92, just 5 minutes or so before seeing the creature near
Gate 2, I had seen some big Animal Crossing the road a few
100 yards ahead and I just dismissed it.
One of the foremen told me later.
You want to be careful. I guess you know about this.
Kushika Saxman, 5 miles South of Ketchikan, was the location of
another report of a close encounter.
George J of Ketchikan shared the following second hand account in
1993. In the fall of 1978, when I was
12, at the start of football season and when the Pink's
Salmon were still in the Creek, my friend Carl S told me he had
been up the second Creek South of Saxman.
He told me he had been cutting through the forest to the Creek
and had been coming over the bank to where you look down on
the Creek. He said he saw something.
It was a big dark furry creature just yards below him and it was
drinking down at the Creek all bent down, but it was drinking
by cupping its hands and drinking from them.
He added he had run home and told his grandma and Ma who
immediately told him not to tell a word to anyone, not then or
ever. But he was my school age chum
and he did share it with me. The boy had since grown and left
the area, but in an interview given by his mother in 2000, she
corroborated his story. He certainly saw something
unusual and he's not the only report from around here.
I definitely believed him. It was what he said he observed
about the creature drinking from a cupped hand that was
especially convincing. If heading home after encounter
was all a witness did, then most reports would end peacefully
enough. But many Alaskans carry rifles
or guns. In Southeast Alaska, there have
been several cases where hunters have apparently lined up their
sights on or even shot at a bear.
That wasn't. One such situation occurred with
Boronov Island fisherman and hunter Mr. HA.
He mentioned in a 1999 interview that while deer hunting with
companions in the fall of 97 on the Baranov Island side of
Walker Channel, situated approximately 40 miles South of
Sitka, they had run into what they had first thought was a
bear. He recalled the surprising
encounter. He had just come up over a rise
to this open area in the forest and saw this big upright figure
at about 40 yards away. It was tall, about 9 feet, and
covered in dark brown fur. We changed our minds right away
though and lowered our rifles because as we watched it
watching us, it became clear that it was no bear.
At first it just stood and watched us, but after about a
minute it walked on 2 legs, taking good strides into the
Bush. Retired Washington law
enforcement officer Fred Bradshaw wrote me in 1999 of a
series of more upsetting Sasquatch encounters he had been
informed of while living in Yakutat, northern SE Alaska, in
the late 1970s. In or about 1979, I was told of
an encounter by a Yakutat native, Steve Johnson, and
others who picked berries at the end of Dangerous River, which
runs 30 miles northeast of Yakutat past the airport.
There's a lake there called Forest Lake.
On the backside of Forest Lake a Sasquatch was living and when
they hiked into Forest Lake to pick berries, this Sasquatch
would show up and watch them. It was 7 feet tall and appeared
to weigh 6 to 900 lbs. It would watch them and then
kind of stalk them and then the natives, scared, would leave.
A bunch of natives went up there and shot at it with shotguns and
ran it off, but it came back so the natives wouldn't go back
there. The last I heard, the creature
is still there. It has scars on its back from
the shotgun blasts, but it doesn't bother anyone.
In a startling 1999 interview, Ketchikan hunter Steve B
confided that he might possibly have wounded a Sasquatch on the
North End of Minerva Mountain, 2 miles north of Ketchikan, in
August of 1996. On that day I was close to the
top of Bear Mountain on an open area near the North End of the
Ridge that runs N toward Ketchikan Lakes.
I was scouting for deer, but was actually geared for anything as
I was carrying a 300 Weatherby Magnum, a good flat shooting
rifle, also handy enough for bear, for which I had a license
as well. It wasn't a bad day at all, no
rain and I had just been sitting down for a break and to watch
for game. A curve of black.
Fur showed over the top of a big log about 100 yards away that
caught my attention. Thinking I had a good spine shot
on a black bear that was rooting for grubs or such behind the
log, I took a shot at where I could hit the backbone, not
waiting to change my scope from 2 power.
Immediately on firing I saw the animal stand up and without
stopping walk quickly on 2 legs out of the open area into the
timber. I thought I must have missed it
or at most just pushed the bullet through a non vital area
because the animal showed no signs of having taken an impact.
It didn't knock down or anything, it just got straight
up and walked away kind of like a man toward the closest trees.
I've never seen any bear do that.
I was so amazed I dropped my rifle on the ground.
It was pretty hair raising. I just stopped a while, relieved
that I hadn't hit it. A while later, after I collected
myself and my gear, I looked over the area but couldn't find
any blood or sign. It had looked pretty heavily
built, no neck, black fur all over, about 7 feet tall, and had
swung its arms when it had walked into the trees.
I never smelled any odor and I never heard it make a sound.
I'm pretty sure I didn't hit it, and that's OK with me because I
don't think I'd feel too good about.
It if I had. In 1998, James Edenshaw of
Ketchikan, a 44 year old Klingit and Hida artist, told of a close
encounter he had with a large hair covered creature in 1982.
The setting was less than one mile east of the previous Bear
Mountain report in the hills just north of Ketchikan's Bear
Valley suburb. It was the fall of 1982 and I
had left the house early one day to explore the forests and caves
north of Bear Valley. I had left early and headed
north over the ridges that separate Bear Valley from
Ketchikan Lakes. After a couple of hours I had
come on to sort of a knobby hill pretty well covered in trees.
In the rocky side of the hill I noticed a passageway about 30
feet long sloping down with daylight showing faintly at the
other end. I was curious and made my way
into it. It was just big enough for me to
Crouch along and sloped gently down to where I could see some
light at the other end of it. Approaching the end of the
passageway. I could see it had sort of a
small opening that had a view into a cave about 20 feet wide.
I could see a way through the larger far cave opening to the
forest on the other side, but what I saw partly concealed in
The Cave just on the other side of the small opening made me
stop. About 8 feet from me were the
face, shoulders and chest of a creature, eyes closed, sleeping
or resting. It was sitting its back to a
Rockwall. I could see that the floor of
The Cave was about 5 feet below me, and as I watched the
creature, it looked big. Its head was about even with
mine, and the top of its head must have been about 5 feet from
the floor of The Cave. Its shoulders looked about four
feet across and covered with long dark brown or black hair.
I could see its face from the forehead down, its chin resting
on its chest. I watched it.
Real quiet. The face was clearly visible
from the big Ridge above its eyes, which were closed.
It didn't have much hair. On the face you could see the
skin kind of leathery and dark grey.
The nose wasn't quite flat. It was broad and ape like, but
it was actually kind of convex and flared into two wide
nostrils. The jaws were big but didn't
stick out that much. He was resting or sleeping.
You could tell it wasn't a big human or a bear.
It seemed to have its legs stretched out in front of it,
but I couldn't really tell exactly.
The lower edge of my opening blocked the view of his chest
and lower half. He wasn't making any noise and
neither was I. The hair was about four to six
inches long, maybe longer on the side of its head.
I couldn't see any ears under the hair, and I couldn't see the
back of his head or the back of his neck.
In fact, I couldn't make out any neck at all, just huge shoulders
and upper arms. There was a big patch of hair on
the sides of his cheek and jaw, which was grizzled white or
light grey. In The Cave I thought I saw a
couple of old wreck things that looked like old pieces of mining
equipment, but I couldn't tell for sure.
It was mostly just rock and gravel.
After looking at him for about 10 seconds or so, I reasoned
that it might be a good idea for me to get out of there, although
the small opening I was looking through would have been way too
small for him to get through. I just backed up the way I'd
come in, just moving real quiet and careful so as to not make
any sound. It took me about 30 seconds.
When I got backed out, I just headed back the way I had come
and went straight home. There are at least three reports
of Sasquatches climbing onto boats at night in Southeast
Alaska and the following is one such story.
It was related in 2000 by Mr. RBA fit looking 57 year old
Ketchikan demolitions professional.
He was involved in a sighting in 1951 or 52 when he was a boy,
somewhere on Prince of Wales Island.
I was working with my grandfather on our 36 foot
fishing boat, the Verna May, somewhere on Prince of Wales
Island. I don't remember the exact
location but I do remember us anchoring up close to shore one
nice evening and going to bed. It was after midnight and I had
got up to go on deck as we had no facilities inside the cabin.
As I flipped open the cabin door onto the deck I felt the boat
rock and right in front of me in my flashlight beam was this tall
hair covered, man like creature climbing up over the side of the
boat all wet. He was dark brown or black.
As soon as he saw me, he just kicked off backwards into the
water with a big splash. Granddad came up quick and
looked with me, but it wasn't swimming on the surface
anywhere. Then just a few seconds later we
could see this 7 or 8 foot figure stand up out of the
shallows about 40 yards away. It stood up on 2 legs and walked
straight up into the forest. It sure covered that distance
underwater fast. Granddad saw it stand up too and
he got real scared. He pulled the anchor and started
the engine right away, and we got out of there.
We kept moving for a time until we got to another anchorage late
that night. In almost 50 years on the water
and in the Bush, that was the only time I seen one of those
things. At a September 2001
organizational meeting in Ketchikan for a prospective
documentary film dealing with Kushnicaws and Sasquatches, a
young woman spoke out. She reported that following a
hike just West of Juneau in early July 2001, she and two
friends had found themselves face to face with a startling
upright creature at the edge of their bonfire.
In a steady voice, she related the following A Juno friend had
just taken us on an evening hike up a trail off the end of a
gravel road West of town, and we had come back down.
We were resting at a campfire we had near the foot of the trail,
not far from our parked car. It was about 9:30 or 10:00 PM
and it was getting dark when we heard the shuffling sound of
footsteps coming out of the forest about 25 feet away.
In the light of the fire, we looked up to see a black hair
covered figure about 6 1/2 feet tall with very broad shoulders.
It had one arm kind of held up over its face as if to shield
its eyes and was edging close to us, peering at us.
We called out Who are you? What do you want?
But it didn't answer and we began to get real nervous as it
came closer. It was covered all over with
black hair and the eyes reflected the firelight with a
whitish. Then as he moved by the fire and
we started to move away a reddish color.
We were standing above 15 feet away.
I couldn't see his teeth, his mouth wasn't open and the whole
time he made no sound at all. His body was more ape like hair
all over but his face was long and narrow with ash Gray colored
skin showing. We were still shouting who the
heck are you and started to back up.
I was getting hysterical and we all broke and ran for the car
yelling. Running past the back of the car
to get in I noticed a huge handprint in the dust on the
back window. We didn't look back and just
pulled out and headed down the road back to town.
I remember it had a bad smell to it like wet dog and garbage
mixed. It was heavily built but not
threatening. The total time he looked at us
was about 10 to 15 seconds. I think it scared us all.
Undoubtedly, the closest alleged encounter with the Sasquatch in
Southeast Alaska is that of Mr. Harold A, a Sitka commercial
fisherman. Following is his 1999 account of
what happened in the summer of 1979 when he was working on the
West Coast of Baranof Island, about 32 miles South of Sitka.
We had our 52 foot signer then getting some use as a fish
Packer up at the South end of Cedar Pass and it was late.
We were just finishing anchoring up for the night about 100 yards
from shore and we were settled. My crew was below tending to
secure in gear. I was alone in the cabin resting
at the galley table with the starboard porthole window open
above my elbow. With the cabin light on as
usual, it was dark outside. Just then I felt something lift
my right arm and looked up to see a huge hairy arm, bigger
than a gorilla's, reaching through the porthole and lifting
my arm. Its arm was covered with dark
brown fur, and I could see the whole forearm up to near the
elbow. The hand was palm up and huge,
being about three times the size of a human hand.
The skin was a dirty brownish Gray color.
The whole of the arm except the palm side of the hand was
covered with four inch dark brown or black hair.
I couldn't tell if there was a thumb.
I wasn't being squeezed or anything, just lifted up and I
would have had to say it felt gentle.
But I can tell you I hollered and pulled my arm away and I
didn't even look outside. I got the engine started and the
crew to pull up anchor and we moved N up the channel about 5
or 6 miles to a new spot before deciding that would be a better
spot to anchor for the night. We didn't see or hear anything
else that time. A chilling encounter in what was
probably one of the more hair raising reports of encounters
with Sasquatches. 2 Alaskan men snow bound on the Canadian Yukon
section of Haines Highway reported a close confrontation
with two hair covered man like creatures.
The principal witness, Will A, was a serious 38 year old family
man who has lived, haunted and fished in both South Central and
Southeast Alaska. He currently resides in
Ketchikan, AK. Will stated in several
interviews in 2010 that until 2004 he had regarded Sasquatches
as mostly aspects of native culture.
However, they became much more real for him one night in 2004.
At the time of the reported encounter, Will and his
brother-in-law Kevin were driving from Anchorage to
Haines, AK before continuing homeward by fairy self to
Ketchikan. Will recounted on October 29th,
2004, my brother-in-law and I had driven A newly purchased
used car, a Pontiac Bonneville, from Anchorage to my father's
house in Willow, AK, staying there for the night.
We were planning on an early start through the Yukon towards
Haynes and the Ketchikan Ferry the next morning.
Dad's last advice the night before was watch out for those
early storms in the Yukon, BC Mountains.
We got going at 6:00 AM the next day and by evening we had passed
through Haines Junction, Yukon, and we're well into the BC
Mountains. As a snowstorm hit us, we slowed
to about 15 mph because the visibility at times was less
than 100 feet. Even so, at the height of land
near Summit Mountain, we slipped off to the right on a right
uphill curve. We had seen no other traffic all
night going either way and had to try digging out.
It was dark. But we kept the car running and
by the headlights and the occasional moonlight we would
dig out, move a few yards uphill and then slide off again.
This happened over and over for hours.
It was sometime around 2:00 AM when Kevin called out and I
noticed a dark man like shape about 6 feet tall watching us on
the summit bluff about 50 yards away to the east.
The bluff was a 20 foot Cliff facing the highway with the
round height of the land just behind it.
The snow was reflecting light from the headlights and maybe
patches of moonlight, I don't know, but we could see it
clearly enough to know it was not a bear.
It just stood watching us standing in the snow about 20
feet above us, not moving or making any noise.
I have no idea how long it had been there watching us.
My brother-in-law ran to the car and before I could react,
grabbed a machete that we kept as a tool in the car, ran to the
edge of the road and started waving it and screaming at the
creature, trying to scare it off after watching my brother in
law's actions for only a few seconds.
It turned to its right and I watched it walk away on 2 legs
in the snow along the top of the bluff for about 50 feet before
disappearing over the flat summit.
It was the summer of 1993 and I had been looking forward to a
peaceful evening on Lake Crescent, a place I had come to
love for its quiet beauty. Growing up in Washington, the
outdoors had always been a part of my life, and boating on the
lake with my uncle was something I had done countless times.
But that night changed everything.
We had launched the boat around dusk, just as the sun started to
dip behind the trees and the fog began to creep in.
It wasn't unusual for the lake to be shrouded in mist.
As the evening approached, the mist curled over the calm water,
settling into the forest around us.
There were no other boats out, and the silence was thick, only
broken by the soft hum of the boat's motor and the occasional
rustling of the trees. My uncle, a quiet man who had
taught me everything I knew about fishing and boating, was
driving, and I was content just sitting back, letting the
soothing motion of the boat rock me.
As we ventured farther on to the lake, the fog seemed to thicken.
Visibility dropped, but we didn't mind.
It was typical for the area and we were familiar with it.
We weren't very far from the shore when the strange sound
first hit us. At first it was subtle, like a
low vibration in the air. But then, as if out of nowhere,
it grew into a low growl, deep and guttural.
It wasn't the growl of a cat, which I had heard plenty of
times during my years living in the area.
It was something different, a growl that seemed to vibrate the
very air around us. My uncle immediately slowed the
boat. He looked over at me, his face a
mixture of concern and caution, as if he knew something was
wrong but didn't want to say it out loud.
He cut the motor. We sat there for a moment,
listening. And then came the second growl,
this one louder and more forceful.
It felt like the very water beneath us was shaking.
Then, to my horror, it wasn't just the growling.
There was a strange sloshing sound, like something large and
heavy was moving through the water.
The sound grew louder and closer.
What is that? I whispered, trying to keep my
voice steady. My uncle didn't respond
immediately. His eyes were fixed on the fog
ahead, and I could see the way his hands gripped the steering
wheel of the boat. It was like he was bracing for
something. But neither of us spoke, both of
us knowing that whatever was out there, it wasn't something we
wanted to confront. The growling continued, and then
it became more of a roar, deep, resonant, and far louder than
anything I'd ever heard. My heart was racing.
I couldn't take my eyes off the fog.
The water rippled unnaturally, as if something large was moving
just below the surface. And then, through the dense
mist, I saw it. At first it was just a shape, a
dark figure standing motionless in the water.
But as it moved, I could see more details.
It was massive, easily 8 feet tall and covered in thick, dark
fur. The way it moved was unlike
anything I had ever seen. It was smooth, and it waded
through the water with such ease that it almost seemed to glide.
The creature was massive, with broad shoulders that looked
capable of crushing anything in their path.
Its arms swung low, its hands ending in thick, powerful
fingers. I could feel the hair on the
back of my neck stand up. My uncle too, had gone
completely still, his gaze fixed ahead, watching the creature's
every move. I barely dared to breathe, not
wanting to make any noise. But then the creature turned its
head toward us. The fog had thinned slightly,
and the lights of the boat illuminated the creature's face.
Its features were terrifying. The brow was heavy, jutting out,
casting its eyes into shadow, but I could still see their
faint amber glow, staring at us, unblinking.
The nose was broad and flat, and the mouth wide and set in a
permanent grimace, exposing large, square teeth.
The sight was enough to freeze me in place, terrified.
Then, as sensing our fear, it let out another roar, this one
louder than the first. It echoed across the lake,
rattling the boat, and the sound carried far into the mist,
sending waves of panic through me.
The roar seemed to vibrate my chest, making it hard to
breathe, and the intensity of it was unlike anything I had ever
experienced. The creature's presence was
overwhelming. It moved again, stepping into
the shallows. My uncle's hand was gripping the
throttle tightly, and I could see his knuckles turning white.
He started the engine again, but instead of speeding off, he
slowly turned the boat toward the shore, trying to remain
calm. We didn't speak, but I could
feel the fear coming off of him, the same fear I was fighting to
control. We didn't turn our heads to look
directly at the creature. We kept our eyes trained ahead,
knowing we had to get to safety, and every nerve in my body
screamed to flee. As the boat moved closer to
shore, I could still hear the creature behind us.
It wasn't chasing us or backing away.
It was just there, waiting. Then, without warning, the
creature let out another terrifying roar, louder this
time. And this time it charged.
It wasn't running, but the force with which it pushed forward was
enough to send us both into a full panic.
My uncle floored the boat, sending it flying toward the
shore. The creature's roar echoed
again, this time almost as though it was mocking us, as if
it knew we were running from it. By the time we reached the dock,
the creature had faded into the fog.
Then the growling stopped. The water grew quiet again, and
I looked back only once, seeing nothing but the eerie fog.
We docked the boat in silence, and I followed my uncle to the
truck. He didn't look at me, and I
didn't look at him. The whole experience was too
surreal, too terrifying for either of us to process at that
moment. The next morning, when the sun
finally broke through the fog, I went outside to check things
out. My uncle had already started the
truck and was preparing to leave.
I could feel the weight of the night on me, a lingering sense
of dread I couldn't shake. My uncle turned to me, his voice
low and grim. What you saw last night, It
wasn't normal. Don't go looking for it, and
don't talk about it with anyone. Just forget it.
I could tell that whatever it was that we had encountered, my
uncle knew exactly what it was. He had lived in the area his
whole life, and I had always looked up to him.
But this time there was something different in his
voice, a sense of fear that he usually didn't show.
It was the kind of fear that only comes when you've seen
something you don't fully understand, something you're
afraid to face again. We left the lake that day.
I never spoke of the creature again, and neither did he.
But I know what I saw. There was no denying it.
The creature was real. It made its presence known to
us. The fog and water that night had
hidden its full body, but I will never forget the image of its
glowing eyes, its massive body, and that unearthly roar that
still echoes in my mind. I have never gone back to Lake
Crescent, and honestly, I never will.
I'm sending this account to you, but you're not the only one.
I have sent parts of it to a couple of other people in the
Bigfoot community as well, because the more I sit with what
happened, the more I think people need to understand what I
saw. My name is Robert, although most
people call me Bob these days. I'm retired and living in
Vancouver, enjoying the comforts of city life, a proper house,
neighbors close by, all the modern things that come with it.
But I didn't grow up that way. My parents were what you might
call back to the land types in the 1960s and 70s.
They raised me off grid in rural Alberta.
I learned to live without electricity, chop wood, draw
water, and get by with very little.
More importantly, I learned the forests and the wildlife of
Canada like the back of my hand. That's part of why this shook me
so badly. I know what's supposed to live
out there, and I know what I saw wasn't supposed to.
It was September when I decided to take a trip up to Little Wet
Lake. I wanted a week of fishing and
camping. Just me, a tent in the lake.
I settled at Driftwood Bay and quickly fell into a rhythm.
Every morning I'd head a little north of my camp to a rocky
stretch of shoreline tucked against the wall of green
forest. I'd fish until I had enough
trout for supper, clean them, and spend the rest of the day
cooking or watching the lake. By day four, I was as content as
a man could be. That's the day it happened.
I was kneeling near the water, checking the line for trout I
had staked in the shallows. Behind me, I suddenly heard
rocks shifting, slow at first, then heavier, like deliberate
footsteps pressing down on the stones.
At first I thought another fisherman had wandered down the
bank, which irritated me. I came to the woods to get away
from people, not to swap small talk.
But this wasn't ordinary footsteps.
The sound came closer and closer as straight passed to me, then
stopped just a few feet behind. Whatever it was didn't speak.
They just stood there. It felt strange, menacing even,
the silence pressing on my back. Finally, I started to turn to
look, and something dropped on the rocks beside me.
At first I thought it was a bear cub who had wandered out of the
trees, the blur of fur tricking my eyes.
But then I saw its face, every muscle in my body locked up.
It wasn't a bear. Its face had no muzzle, no
rounded ears. The nose was small, broad in
flat, not the snout of an animal, but more like a
person's, though not quite human.
Its eyes were large, so dark they seemed bottomless, no
whites at all. The skin of its face, palms and
the soles of its feet were leathery charcoal colour, and
though it was covered in black hair, it was only the size of a
small child, maybe 3 or 4 years old if I had to compare.
It sat down as if it had every right to be there, only a couple
of metres from me, and looked at me expectantly.
Then it pointed, not at me, but at my Stringer of trout.
It had seen me catch them, and that's what it wanted.
My stomach turned to ice. If this little one was here, its
parents couldn't be far. I imagine something much larger,
watching from the trees, ready to defend it.
My only weapon was a small fishing knife, not exactly much
against something I suspected was a Sasquatch.
I yanked the stake from the water, unhooked the fish with
trembling hands, and tossed them to the little one.
It let out a sound I can only describe as a cross between a
purr and a low growl, and began to eat.
That was my chance. I grabbed what I could and
hurried away, heart pounding. But it didn't end there.
As I made my way along the tree line, trying to put some
distance between myself and that thing, I heard small footsteps
slapping against the rocks behind me.
Then a tiny whistle, high and sharp.
It was following me. When I turned, there it was
again, fish clutched in one hand, trotting toward me.
It stopped a few meters away and held out the half eaten trout,
offering it to me like a child might offer to share their
candy. It stretched its little arm,
insistent eyes fixed on mine. I shook my head, nervous and
fumbling, realizing immediately that it wouldn't understand the
gesture. The expression on its face
shifted, at first curious, then upset.
Its mouth opened, letting out a strange sound, not quite words,
but as though it was trying to communicate.
Then came the anger, its round, almost sweet face twisted, the
eyes narrowing, his leathery skin folding into an expression
that was shockingly fierce. It hissed, a deep throaty sound,
its tiny block like teeth flashing as it glared at me.
I backed up, hands out, muttering nonsense, anything to
keep it from coming closer. Every step I took back, it
stepped forward. It was relentless, following me,
growing angrier by the 2nd. For something so small, the
menace was undeniable. My fear wasn't only of it, but
of what might be. Listening in the trees, the
parents could appear any moment. Then it stopped.
The little creature cocked its head, listening.
From deeper in the woods came a loud whistling call.
Clear, commanding. The change in its face was
immediate. The anger drained, replaced by
something like obedience. It looked back at me once, lips
curling just slightly as if in warning, then whistled back.
Then it bolted into the forest. I didn't wait around.
I stumbled the rest of the way back to camp, packed as quickly
as I could, and left before nightfall.
In my hurry, I even left behind my fishing pole, one of my most
valued possessions, but I wasn't about to risk walking back to
retrieve it. What haunts me most isn't just
the sight of that small Sasquatch, It's how human it
behaved. The pointing, the insistence,
the tantrum when I refused, It was exactly like dealing with a
child, but a child with the strength and potential of
something not human, something dangerous.
I'll say this for anyone who reads this.
Don't be fooled by the size or the cute look of the young ones.
I wouldn't put past the adults to use them as bait.
Trying to lure curious people closer.
And when I think about how it tried to share the fish, I
wonder if it would act that way with an actual child drawing
them in, making them trust it before the adults stepped in.
That thought chills me even now. Signed Bob R, Vancouver, BC I've
shared this story a couple of times before, but not in full
detail. Some told me I should reach out
to you since you've heard hundreds of these encounters and
might know what I went through matches what others have seen.
I live outside Forks, WA, and while I grew up around wildlife
in the Pacific Northwest, nothing in my life prepared me
for what happened one night in late September of 2011.
I'll start by saying this. I know what a black bear looks
like. I've seen them many times around
here. I know their movements, their
posture, the way they huff and blow when startled.
What I saw that night wasn't a bear, and while it walked on 2
legs, I'd bet my life it wasn't a man either.
I was living in a small rental house on the outskirts of Forks.
The house itself was old, probably from the 1950s.
Simple, a single story with a wide porch and detached shed
behind it, the woods pressed close, thick with towering
evergreens, sword ferns and devil's club.
Out there, nights are black. Not city dark, true black.
When the porch light isn't on, the only illumination comes from
the faint glow of stars, sometimes the moon, and the
canopy blocks much of it out. On overcast nights, it's like
staring into ink. At that time, I kept a couple of
garbage cans at the far end of the porch, near the steps that
led down to the gravel drive. Normally I hauled the bags into
town twice a week, but that month I had been busy and the
cans were fuller than I liked. My landlord had told me to keep
the lids bungied tight since raccoons and bears were known to
nose around, and I always did. It was a Friday night around 11.
I was on the porch smoking a cigarette before bed.
The night was quiet except for the occasional chirp of a tree
frog. Then I heard something else.
It started as a clatter, followed by the sound of a
garbage can lid scraping against concrete.
I froze. The noise came from the far end
of the porch, exactly where my trash can sat.
At first I thought it had to be a raccoon, maybe even a bear,
though they usually weren't bold enough to come up to the porch
itself. But then came the smell.
A wave of stench rolled over me. Wet dog mixed with rotting meat
and something sour. It was thick, heavy, and wrong.
Bears have a musky smell, yes, but this was sharper, almost
chemical, the kind of odor that makes your throat tighten and
your eyes water. I set my cigarette down in the
ashtray and stood slowly, straining my ears.
The scraping sound stopped, replaced by a low, rhythmic
huffing breath. Something was standing only 20
feet away, hidden just around the corner of the porch.
I didn't want to scare it, so I eased backward toward the front
door, planning to slip inside. But as I reached for the knob,
curiosity got the better of me. I leaned out just enough to
catch a glimpse of the trash cans, and that's when I saw it.
A shape was hunched over the nearest can, massive shoulders
rolling as it lifted the lid straight off and tossed it
aside. The thing was big.
Thick dark hair covered its body, the porch like glinting
off strands matted with dirt. One huge arm reached down into
the can, fishing around before it came back up with the entire
trash bag in its hand. I could see the fingers, long,
far too long for any human. They wrapped around the bag,
nails piercing through the plastic, and with a flick of its
wrist, it tore the bag wide open.
Bits of food and wrappers scattered across the porch.
That was the moment my brain rejected the bear explanation.
Bears don't use their hands like that.
My porch light was dim, but enough to catch the outline of
its head as it turned. The forehead sloped back from a
heavy brow Ridge, and then the light hid its eyes.
They glowed faintly, not like glassy animal eyes, but deeper,
reflecting a light amber red in the bulb's glow.
Its face wasn't flat, but it wasn't long snouted either, with
a wide nose and lips that curled back as it sniffed.
That's when it noticed me. The instant its eyes locked on
mine, a jolt of terror shot through me.
It dropped the trash bag, rose to its full height, and for the
first time I saw just how massive it really was.
The top of its head nearly brushed the porch roof beam.
Easily 8 feet tall, its chest was barrel wide, arms hanging to
its knees. It let out a noise that froze me
in place, A guttural, chest deep growl that vibrated through the
porch boards. And then it came at me.
It didn't leap or Sprint. It charged each step pounding
the wood like Thunder. The porch shook under its
weight, and in two strides it crossed half the distance
between us, closing so fast that my brain barely processed what
was happening. I yanked open the front door and
stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind me just as it
slammed into the wall. The impact rattled the windows
in their frames and sent a stack of magazines toppling from the
counter. I heard wood splinter outside,
maybe the porch railing. The growl rose into a roar so
loud I could feel it. It circled the porch, heavy
footsteps thudding across the planks, dragging its nails
briefly on the siding. At one point it banged hard
against the door itself, and the knob rattled violently.
I stood frozen in the dark living room, my back against the
wall, gripping a fireplace poker with knuckle white hands, my
heart slamming inside my chest. For minutes, long, endless
minutes, it prowled, growling, huffing, occasionally slapping
the wall or the door with one of those massive hands.
Then, just as suddenly, silence. I stayed awake all night with
the lights on every Creek of the old house, sending fresh waves
of adrenaline and fear through me.
By dawn, I gathered the courage to step outside.
The porch was a wreck. One trash can lay crumpled in
the yard, dented like it had been kicked.
The railing was cracked, one post snapped clean through.
And on the wooden boards themselves were smears of dirt
and hair, long coarse strands, dark brown to black, some caught
in the splintered railing. In the damp soil at the base of
the porch, clear impressions showed where it had stepped.
Each print was nearly twice the length of my own boot, brought
at the heel with toes spread wide, massive human like feet
pressed deep into the earth. I didn't tell many people.
My uncle, who lived in Forks his whole life, had told me don't
leave trash out, they'll come around for that, and he wouldn't
elaborate on who they were. But I know what I saw.
A creature, a Sasquatch, hair covered upright, strong enough
to shake my house, and it was angry that it got caught.
To this day, I keep every trash can locked in the shed, and I
never linger outside at night without a floodlight because the
image that never leaves me is its face.
When it realized I was standing there, those eyes, that fury, it
kind of was letting me know the porch, the cans, maybe even the
house belonged to it. Not me.
I've haunted all my life. Whitetail in Missouri, elk out
in Colorado, even black bear in Idaho.
But no experience, no rifle, no years of woodcraft would have
prepared me for what I faced. 1 Autumn in the Blue Mountains of
Washington. What I saw there and what saw me
changed my understanding of the wilderness forever.
It was late October of 94. The weather was crisp, the air
carrying that familiar scent of pine and wet earth.
The Blue Mountains rise in the southeast corner of Washington
and spill into Oregon, a rugged, forested country with high
ridges, deep draws, and enough wilderness to make you feel
small. I'd been hunting elk with a
buddy of mine for several days, though on this particular
morning I set off alone. We were camped near the Tucan
River in an area thick with ponderosa pine and fir.
I had risen before dawn, hiked a couple miles from camp, and
posted myself along a game trail that snaked up toward a Meadow I
knew elk like to graze. The morning was quiet, too
quiet. No bugles, no distant calls, not
even the chatter of squirrels. The forest had that heavy,
muffled silence that set your nerves on edge, like the woods
themselves are holding their breath.
I was crouched near a dead fall, scanning the slope above me,
when I heard the first sound. A heavy crunch of weight on pine
needles. Not the dainty step of a deer.
Not the four beat pattern of an elk.
This was 1-2 paws, 1-2 paws something walking upright.
I thought maybe it was another hunter, though the direction of
the steps puzzled me. They were coming straight down a
steep, rocky draw where no sane man would tread without making
twice as much racket. I called out softly, just as
simple. Hey, I'm down here.
But no answer came. The steps continued.
I lifted my rifle, not to fire, but to bring the scope up,
hoping to catch sight of movement.
That's when the forest went still in a way I've only felt
once before. Dead quiet, as if everything
from birds to bugs had fled. Then came the smell.
A thick, musky stench rolled down the draw, hitting me like a
wall. It was wet, earthy, mixed with
something rotten like wet dog, decayed vegetation, and
something metallic all at once. I gagged, eyes watering whatever
was up. There wasn't an elk, and it sure
wasn't a man. Branches snapped high on the
slope, and I finally saw movement.
At first it was just a shadow among shadows, but then it
stepped into a shaft of light. What I saw froze me.
It was massive, easily 8 feet tall, maybe more.
The head nearly brushed a pine bough I knew was far above my
own reach. Its body was barrel chested,
arms hanging low, longer than any humans, swinging almost to
its knees. Hair covered it from head to
toe, shaggy and dark. But it was the face that hit me
hardest. Not fully ape, not fully man.
The brow was heavy, jutting forward like a Ridge.
Deep set eyes glowed faint amber in the dim light, steady and
unblinking. The nose was broad, flat, with
wide nostrils that flared as it breathed, and the mouth a grim
slash across its face, stretching wider than any
human's mouth should, lips pulled tight over large, square
looking teeth. It stood there, staring down the
draw, nostrils quivering, eyes locked on me.
The next sound it made rattled me to my core.
It drew in a deep breath, chest expanding like bellows, and then
let out a guttural growl so low and resonant that I felt it
through the ground beneath my boots.
It vibrated through my ribs, like standing too close to a
subwoofer turned all the way up. This wasn't just sound.
This was a warning. I had faced bears before.
I knew their huffs and their bluff charges.
This wasn't that. This was deeper, more
deliberate, and more intelligent.
It was as if the creature was telling me in no uncertain
terms, You do not belong here. Before I could even react, it
charged, each step pounding the ground like Thunder.
The sheer force of its strides shook the slope.
Rocks tumbled, branches snapped, the draw itself seeming to quake
under its weight. In two massive strides, it
closed half the distance between us.
My brain struggled to process how something that large could
move so fast. I raised my rifle instinctively,
but my finger froze on the trigger.
Some part of me knew that a bullet wasn't going to stop this
thing, and even if it did, I'd never live long enough to
chamber another round. It roared as it came, the sound
exploding out of its chest, echoing off the Canyon walls,
reverberating through the forest.
My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst.
I backed up until my shoulders pressed against the deadfall.
There was nowhere else to go. My rifle trembled in my hands.
The creature slowed, stopping just 20 feet away.
Up close, the scale of it was overwhelming the head and
shoulders. Loomed over me, filling my
vision. I could see the detail of its
hair, coarse and tangled, clumped with dirt and bits of
pine needles. I could see its breath steaming
in the cold air. I could see the wet glint of
saliva on its teeth as it growled, lips pulling back in
something halfway between a snarl and a grimace.
Its eyes never left mine, and for a moment, 5 seconds, 10,
maybe more, we stood locked like that, I didn't dare move.
My lungs burned with the effort of holding still, of trying not
to tremble. Then something changed.
Then the creature leaned forward, nostrils flaring again,
sniffing the air. Its head cocked slightly to one
side, like it was studying me, weighing something in its mind.
The growl deepened into a rumbling vibration, then faded.
It took one step closer, and I nearly broke.
My finger tightened on the trigger, but I still couldn't
fire. I don't know if it was fear,
shock, or some primal instinct. Screaming to shoot would be
suicide. Instead, I forced myself to
lower the rifle just an inch. Not enough to drop my guard, but
enough to show I hoped that I wasn't a threat.
The creature's eyes narrowed. Its lips curled back again,
bearing those block like teeth. Then it let out one final roar,
so loud and so close that my ears rang and my vision blurred.
My chest felt like it was going to cave in.
And just like that, it turned. It pivoted on its heels and
strode back up the draw. Each step still thundered, but
the sound receded quickly as it melted back into the trees, and
within seconds it was gone. The silence that followed was
suffocating. Slowly, the forest sounds
returned, an insect here, a bird there.
But I remained frozen, heart still hammering, body shaking so
hard my knuckles nearly buckled. When I finally forced myself to
move, I realized I had been gripping the rifle so tightly my
palms were slick with sweat. My breath came in ragged gasps.
I stumbled back toward camp, every shadow now alive with
menace. When I reached camp, my buddy
took one look at me and knew something was wrong.
My face had been pale as chalk, eyes wide, hands trembling.
I didn't tell him everything that night, just muttered
something about a bear, about being spooked.
But the truth clawed at me, refusing to be denied.
I had seen something no bear, no moose, no known creature could
match. The next morning I went back
cautiously, heart pounding to the spot in the draw.
What I found erased any hope of convincing myself it had been a
nightmare. The ground was torn up with
tracks. Tracks nearly 2 feet long, human
like, but broader and toes spread wide.
They pressed so deep into the ground that it would have taken
something far heavier than any man to make them.
The deadfall where I had stood bore fresh gouges with the
creature's hand and gripped the logs.
Splinters of wood littered the ground, some with dark hair
tangled. I gathered none of it.
I couldn't. To touch it felt wrong, like
meddling with something ancient and dangerous.
That was decades ago, and I haven't haunted the Blue
Mountains since. I still hunt, but never there,
and never without the memory of that encounter hovering in the
back of my mind. I don't claim to know what it
was. Call it Bigfoot, Sasquatch,
something else. What I do know is that it was
real. Its eyes, its roar, its sheer
presence. That wasn't myth or imagination.
It was flesh and blood, and it was powerful enough to let me
live or die on its whim. It was late summer in Bel Air,
Washington. I had gone out to stay at a
small cabin on the lake. My plan was simple, relax, fish
and enjoy the water for a few quiet nights.
The cabin had an old wooden dock that stretched about 20 feet out
into the lake. It was worn but steady, a place
I like to sit in the evenings just to listen to the sounds of
the water. That night the sky was cloudy
and a heavy mist floated over the lake.
The moonlight came and went as clouds moved across, so the
water looked silvery 1 moment and almost black the next.
It was calm at first. A few frogs croaked from the
shoreline and small fish splashed now and then near the
reeds. I was sitting out on the dock
with a Lantern beside me sipping coffee when the first strange
sound reached me. It wasn't loud at first, just a
faint ripple, like something large moving under the surface.
I thought maybe it was a Beaver or a deer coming down to drink,
but then I noticed the regular rhythm of splashes.
These weren't random. Something was making its way
straight across the lake. I leaned forward, my eyes
straining to see through the mist.
The sound grew clearer, water parting, heavy movements like a
swimmer with enormous arms pushing through.
My stomach tightened. Whatever it was, it was coming
directly toward my dock. The next sound froze me in
place. A low growl carried across the
water, so deep I felt it. Then I saw it, at first just a
dark shape rising out of the water, taller and broader than
anything I'd ever seen in real life.
As the mist thinned for a moment, I made out its head,
shoulders, and chest. It looked exactly like the
stories I'd always half dismissed A Sasquatch.
Its body was covered in long, wet hair, dark brown to almost
black. The creature's shoulders were
enormous, easily twice as wide as mine, and its arms hung
nearly to its knees. Even as it waded forward, the
water barely slowed it down. Each step it took sent ripples
rolling across the lake. When it got close enough to the
Lantern light to catch its face, I felt the shock run through me.
The brow jutted out heavy and shadowed its deep set eyes, but
when the light hit them just right, they glowed faintly.
Its nose was broad, flat and human like, and its mouth was
wide, stretched over square teeth that showed whenever it
exhaled. I couldn't move.
This thing was terrifying and yet so real that all I could do
was stare. It didn't stop at the water's
edge. With a heavy splash, it planted
its massive hands on the edge of the dock.
The boards groaned loudly as it pulled itself up.
I could see the size of its hands clearly now.
Huge, long fingered with rough dark palms and wet hair
plastered to the backs. The dock shook under its weight
as it climbed onto the boards. It stood there, dripping water
running off its hair and chest. Towering well over 8 feet tall,
the top of its head nearly reached the roof beam of the
small boat shelter. It looked like it could barrel
straight through a wall. Then it made a noise that nearly
knocked the breath out of me. A guttural growl, deep and
chesty, vibrating through the wood under my feet.
In two massive strides it came toward me, each step slamming
into the boards with a heavy boom, and the dock shook so hard
I thought it might break apart. My brain barely kept up with
what I was seeing. It didn't run, but the force and
speed of its charge made it feel like a storm bearing down.
I stumbled backward, nearly dropping the Lantern.
My first instinct was to run to the cabin, but my legs wouldn't
move fast enough. The creature stopped just short
of me, standing in the light. Its chest heaved, its breath
coming out in heavy, steaming puffs.
Drops of water rolled down its arms and fingers, landing on the
dock like. Rain for a few seconds.
It didn't move. It just stared.
Its eyes didn't blink, and I could feel something in that
stare, an intensity I cannot explain.
Then it raised one massive arm and slammed its hand against the
dock railing. The wood cracked, snapping clean
through under its power. That was enough for me.
My body finally reacted. I.
Scrambled backward, nearly falling, and bolted toward the
cabin. Behind me, I heard a yell again,
echoing across the water and bouncing off the trees.
It sounded almost like triumph, like it knew it had scared me
into running. I slammed the cabin door shut,
locking it, even though I doubted a lock would stop
something that strong. My heart hammered as I grabbed
the rifle from the corner. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't do
much. I stood at the window, peeking
out from behind the curtain, barely able to breathe.
The dock creaked outside. Then came the sound of
splintering wood boards cracking under its weight.
I dared a glance. The railing was left hanging
loose. One post completely snapped.
Long smears of dirt and wet hair marked the boards where it had
stood. The sight made my stomach turn.
I stayed frozen until the sound of heavy footsteps moved away,
fading toward the shoreline. Finally, silence returned.
But I knew the night wasn't the same anymore.
Finally, silence returned at dawn.
The dock was a wreck. One railing post was splintered.
The trash can was crushed in the yard and on the ground near the
shoreline were its tracks. They were massive, human like
tracks, nearly 2 feet long pressed deep into the wet
ground. The toes were spread wide, clear
as day, and the depth of each print told me this thing was
heavier than any person could ever be.
I left Bel Air the next day. I didn't tell anyone at first,
not even the neighbors, because I knew they wouldn't believe me.
But I know what I saw that night.
The Sasquatch came out of the water, climbed onto my deck, and
stood within feet of me. Even now, I could hear that deep
growl rattling through the boards, still feel the shake of
its charge, and still see the glow of its eyes cutting through
the mist. 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.