A few years ago, I landed a job as a camera operator for a
Discovery special on the Yeti. However, that special never
aired and here I am breaking my NDA to explain why I believe
these events need to be made known.
Professionally. I'm a photographer and cameraman
primarily focused on nature photography, but a gig is a gig.
I had a friend from college who worked for Discovery filming for
some of their extreme nature shows like Bear Grylls survival
series or documentaries exploring Egyptian tombs.
At the time I was primarily doing wedding photography, but I
always wanted to try my hand at something like what my friend
was doing for Discovery. Luck would have it that he fell
seriously ill right before a scheduled trip to Kathmandu,
Nepal for a new TV special on the Yeti.
He recommended me for the job and I happily accepted.
I was thrilled. It meant a free trip to Nepal
and a reality TV gig. After gathering my gear, I drove
down to LA to meet my sick friend who graciously let me use
his equipment. Don't sweat it, he said.
Have fun over there and make sure you listen to what they
want you to do. You'll be going into some pretty
rough terrain. It's hard work, so stay
hydrated. The physical aspect wasn't a
problem for me. I walked a lot and even ran
marathons. After thanking him again, I
headed to the airport. The plane ride was long, really
long, but otherwise uneventful. I mainly needed to nap, My back
was killing me from the seats and the jet lag.
On top of that. At the airport, I met the others
in the crew. There was one other cameraman,
his name was Willie, who knew my friend from back home.
Then there was the show's host, an Aussie named Rob, and Rob's
assistant producer Karen. As soon as I stepped out of the
airport, I felt like I walked into a wall of pollution.
Kathmandu was huge, dense, smelly and noisy.
Nepal bordered India, so if you've ever been there or seen
places like Delhi on TV, Nepal is not much different.
Willie, who was also Filipino and blended in better with the
locals, hailed us a cab and we went to a western hotel.
Karen informed me that she would be staying at the hotel when we
would be meeting a local guide that she arranged for us.
The rest of the day, I mainly walked around near the hotel,
ate some local food, and took some photos with my own camera.
Karen and I were the only ones still awake at this point.
I still felt weird despite being exhausted from the flight, so we
walked down a bit to a nearby square where we heard some music
coming from. There were about 20 or so people
there crowded around a Nepalese man who was dancing in a circle
while some other men played drums and an instrument I
couldn't recognize. It was some sort of flute.
The dancer was wearing a golden silk gown and a paper mache
mask. The mask was interesting though.
It looked like what you'd see during the Chinese New Year,
painted bright red with intricate yellow and green
patterns surrounding orb like white eyes and two long fangs
that slanted outward from the mouth hole.
The mask also had long bright red hair that covered the
dancers head entirely so all you saw was the mask and his body.
Karen was able to speak a bit of Nepali and gestured to the
dance. She asked one of the drummers
what the mask was. He looked confused at her poor
Nepali for a moment and then laughed and simply said lo.
Later at the hotel I googled on the brutally slow Internet what
a low was and apparently it was some sort of demon from Nepalese
folklore that protects townspeople.
I shut off my laptop and then managed to get a nice long
sleep. The next day we met our guide
Sherpa Harish. He was from a village about 8
hours northeast of Kathmandu going up into the Himalayas.
We put our equipment into a rented truck, and then up we
drove through the city and then the poor slum suburbs beyond,
before finally reaching mountainous farmland.
Rob got Willie to film him, interviewing Harish for a bit as
he drove. Harish told us that he had seen
glimpses of the Yeti as a boy, and the beast left footprints in
the sand near rivers and streams.
Many of the villages near him had reported sightings, too.
But often some kids go looking on their own, he says.
But mostly they get lost out in the dense mountain jungle.
Sometimes they'll come back with scratches and bruises, usually
from falling, tripping, or even sometimes bites from snakes.
Harish continued, explaining that the local legends of the
Yeti became world famous when Western explorers began coming
to Nepal for exploration, mainly around the early 20th century.
The myths exploded as more Mountaineers came hoping to
catch a glimpse of the Bigfoot cousin on their climb up the
various mountains, the most famous obviously being Mount
Everest. Harish claims that the Yeti
exists but understands why many Westerners and even those from
the cities are more skeptical because there are other great
apes like orangutans in the jungles which people could think
are the Yeti. We stopped filming and let
Harish drive. It took us almost all day and it
was not a pleasant ride. Most of the roads were little
more than dirt paths and some spots were very high up
overlooking gorgeous scenery with nothing but flimsy aluminum
barriers to protect your vehicle if it veered off the road.
We reached his village at about 9:00 PM local time.
I was expecting some wooden Hut village like you saw on TV, but
this village was more like a small town.
They had power concrete buildings and a few paved,
albeit poorly maintained streets.
Most of the buildings though were shanty huts with aluminum
ceilings and wood or old concrete as walls.
Harish took us to the only hotel in town, which was a simple
two-story motel. We agreed to meet early in the
morning at around 5:00 AM since Harish said that that was the
best time to potentially get a siding.
The hotel room was what you would expect from the third
world. A bare bones mattress that was
right on the ground, a hole in the ground with a plastic cover
for a toilet and a hose with a nozzle for a shower.
Luckily the motel restaurant served some decent chicken.
I managed to get a few hours of sleep but slept in my clothes as
the nights got very cold that high up in the Himalayan
foothills. I woke up and met the crew
bright and early. Harish drove us a bit away from
the village, but not too far. We'd have to go the rest of the
way on foot, he said. Most sightings are near a stream
that runs at the bottom of a gorge.
However, the Nepali government was building a dam just north of
the village and most of the river was dried up so we could
walk along the sandy banks. The river was not far from the
road, maybe a 15 minute walk through the jungle.
I could see what the dam was doing to the gorge, though the
water was confined to a small stream in the middle of what
must have once been a great river.
On the other side, as Harish said, were sandy banks and
rocks. Willie and I began filming at
this point and we began trekking N on either side of the gorge
were steep tree covered hills and you could see in the
distance the first mountains of the Himalayas.
Every so often we would stop and Harish would explain to Rob a
bit more about the Yeti and Rob would relay his own opinions as
well. Harish would point out various
animal tracks including bears and even a tiger, so we had a
reference for when he showed us the real Yeti footprint up
ahead. We trekked on for what felt like
an hour following the dried up river bank.
My friend back home was certainly right about it being
tough terrain. I considered myself pretty fit,
but even this was getting tough as we kept going uphill.
Eventually we hit a turn in the river, marked to my right by a
steep Cliff face. Harish beckoned us over to show
some sort of ape like footprint in the dried river sand.
I kept filming as Rob asked some questions about how the
villagers found it. Could it just be a regular ape
or an orangutan, that sort of thing.
The footprint was pretty odd though.
Even if it was an orangutan, it was about the size of a bear,
but definitely humanoid and ape like in shape with four toes and
a larger opposable toe. We took photos of the print and
then use the opportunity to have a lunch break.
The footprint was weird but interesting.
I thought at the time and looking back this is where I
wish we had stopped. After lunch, Harish told us that
the Yeti is probably an undiscovered ancestor or
relative to apes. He says it likes to live in
caves and has evidence. The Cave mention was given to
Karen who told Rob weeks ago, so it was no surprise to Rob.
These nature productions are all generally scheduled well in
advance, so there are no surprises.
We packed our stuff up and began to hike up into the jungle
towards this cave up the steep terrain near the cliffside.
When I thought the hike up the river was tough, I hadn't
experienced a real hike yet. Back home I would hike around
Seattle near Portland when I would visit my parents, but
trails cannot compare to walking through unexplored Himalayan
jungle Bush. Not to mention I had 60 odd
pounds of AV equipment on my back.
The jungle was certainly a unique place though.
You're introduced to a whole new soundscape from monkeys yelling
at each other, tons of different birds, the rustling of
vegetation, and even some weird chirps from insects I couldn't
even name for you. Eventually, the constant uphill
battle took a turn S literally Harish LED us downhill until we
were standing face to face with this cave.
It had a low ceiling, maybe 5 feet, but it was quite wide,
about the length of a city bus. The entrance was covered in
thick Bush except for a cutaway hole where presumably this Yeti
entered and exited. At that moment, Willie began to
film Rob and Harish entering The Cave, and a shrill shriek came
from behind the area we hiked up.
I nearly fell over and my muscles went stiff.
Instinctively I swung my camera around but couldn't locate where
the shriek had come from. Rob turned with a look of
concern. Willie and Harish, on the other
hand, were grinning at me. Willie had his camera pointed
into the tree tops and was holding back a laugh to keep his
camera steady. Willie pointed up and told us to
look up there. I followed his gaze to see a
small brown monkey hanging from a branch.
Howling monkey. Looks like you saw a ghost, huh?
The anxiety and me slowly let down as the monkey screamed
again right at us a couple more times before taking off into the
tree tops. I must have let out the biggest
sigh of my life and we turned to go into The Cave.
Rob interviewed Harish again before entering and Harish said
some local boys found this place and they saw the Yeti leaving
The Cave. Rob made a little joke and then
we went into The Cave. As you would expect, The Cave
was pitch black, and it was a good thing we had our lights on,
our cameras in addition to night vision.
The Cave didn't seem to go that far back, but it was difficult
to tell. The ceiling seemed to get lower
and lower as you went in. Rob was walking sort of
backward, talking to the camera as he spoke about the history of
the Yeti sightings, that sort of thing.
We started having to duck our heads as the ceiling kept
getting lower and the light from the entrance grew smaller.
We were maybe 30 yards in when Rob started talking.
The first western sighting of the Yeti was in 1832 when he
stopped as his foot hit something.
He mumbled and turned to see how big the rock was to move around
it. Only when he turned and shined
his headlight on the ground, his foot had not hit a rock.
I could see through my camera a humanoid mass on the ground,
like someone in a fetal position.
Rob jumped back and Harish went to go see what was wrong.
He turned the man over and the man was completely naked and
covered in filth. Harish looked up at me and the
man was clearly a westerner. He had a shaggy beard, was very
skinny and looked extremely dehydrated.
This body on the ground was still alive though, mumbling
something and holding himself. There were two small holes in
the side of the man, like some sort of bite, a bat maybe.
We were in a cave and the man had clearly been here for some
time. We thought that he was a lost
tourist or a Mountaineer at first, but then Harish picked up
a piece of plastic near the man and held it up to me.
I read it out loud. Jacques Richard, Engineer.
Engineer. That was French for engineer,
obviously, and he must work at the dam.
Harish explained that the dam was partially funded by the
French government and the World Bank.
We agreed that he must have gotten lost and went to help him
up when the same shriek from the howler monkey emerged from The
Cave entrance. I turned slowly, keeping my
camera rolling. Through the lens, I saw a very
tall, dark, lanky figure standing in The Cave entrance.
It had no clothing, no fur, just a huge head of hair that was
completely dark like the rest of its silhouette.
I could make out the monkeys squirming body in the creature's
mouth. It screamed again, and then
there was a crunch and a sickening slurping noise.
All I could make out from the silhouette were two enormous
beady white eyes staring at my camera.
The creature let out another terrifying scream, dropping the
monkey and quickly retreating deeper into the jungle,
disappearing into the dense foliage.
The crew, stunned and terrified, gathered their wits and decided
that they needed to get out of The Cave and back to the village
immediately. We carefully lifted the injured
and confused man and started making our way back through the
treacherous terrain. The injured man, Jacques
Richard, was weak but conscious, mumbling incoherently about
being haunted by a creature. His delirious state suggested
that he had been through something very traumatic.
The journey back to the village was arduous.
We faced multiple challenges as we had to carry Jacques, the
paths were slippery and there was the constant fear that the
creature might actually return. Harish was leading the way
quickly, using his knowledge of the terrain to guide us back
safely. As we walked, Jacques's
mumblings became more coherent. He talked about being part of a
team working on the dam and how they encountered the creature
during their surveys. He described the creatures
attacks and how it seemed to be protecting its territory.
Jacques mentioned that others from his team went missing and
were never found. We finally reached Harish's
village late at night. The villagers were shocked to
see Jacques, whom they presumed to be dead.
Harish quickly arranged for medical help and the village Dr.
attended to Jacques's wounds and dehydration.
The crew gathered to discuss our next steps.
Rob and Karen decided to return to Kathmandu to report the
incident and share the footage with discovery.
Jacques, now slightly more stable, insisted on coming with
us. He believed that the footage was
vital and that the world needed to know about what was going on
here. The journey back to Kathmandu
was tense, but relatively uneventful.
We were constantly on edge, fearing another possible
encounter with whatever that thing was, but still relatively
just in shock. After reaching the city, we were
able to communicate directly with Discovery's producers.
These executives were initially skeptical, but were soon
convinced by the footage that we uploaded to their server.
After reviewing the footage, the executives instructed us to hand
in all our AV equipment at the airport and assured us that they
would be in touch soon. Upon our arrival we complied,
although it did feel very strange and disheartening to
part with our gear in such a manner.
Weeks passed and we heard nothing about the footage or the
planned special. We had long since lost contact
with Jacques. Attempts to contact Discovery
were met with very vague responses and brush offs.
Rob received an anonymous tip that the footage may have been
classified and the project had been shelved indefinitely.
There was some speculation that some very powerful people wanted
to keep the existence of the creature and that cave a secret.
Even though I am under a strict NDAI have felt utterly compelled
to share this story. The world deserves to know about
the events that we witnessed and the creature that remains hidden
in the shadows of the Himalayas. The truth should not be
suppressed and I just hope that this account reaches those who
seek to uncover the very dark mysteries of our world.
I spent about eight years in prison doing hard time paying
for the mistakes I made in my youth.
Every day I dealt with screaming guards and bloody fights between
cell mates. Every day was like living in my
own personal hell. The only thing that kept me sane
was what I had planned when I got out.
You see, my dad owned about 20 acres of forest in Montana.
When I was a kid, I found myself enthralled by Mother Nature's
beauty, living more in the wilderness than I did in my own
home. The thought of all the gorgeous
scenery and untainted air looking forward to that slice of
paradise was the only thing keeping me sane.
When it finally came time for my release, the vast wilderness was
my destination. After stepping off the bus and
catching up with my family, I packed a bag, filling it with
supplies and even a tent. After waiting this long, I
planned to stay a few days during the start of my trek.
It was more awesome than I could have imagined.
The air was so clean and pure, a far cry from the stench of blood
and cold steel. The pine cones crushed beneath
my feet, giving me a satisfying feeling.
Different birds broke the silence with happy chirping.
This was what I prayed for during those eight agonizing
years. As I continued onward, the sun
started to set, giving off a stunning orange glow that
brought a smile to my face. I swear, people focus too much
on the everyday hustle and bustle of life.
I felt like I could stay out here and live happily, but since
it was getting late, I needed to find a spot to set up camp.
I wasn't picky. Dirt would be better than one of
those prison cots. I settled under the cover of
some really tall pine trees. I had planned to build a fire
and roast some marshmallows, but to do that I needed some stray
branches. That's when my trip took a
strange turn. As I walked deeper, little
things seemed off to me, like the many broken trees.
Not small ones either. There were thick and mighty oaks
snapped clean in half. Upon further inspection, they
didn't seem to be rotten. This left me dumbfounded as I
didn't remember any tornadoes in the forecast.
Regardless, I pushed on in search of more wood.
However, this time an awful smell caught my attention.
The whole area seemed to reek of body odor or that of a decaying
animal, but I assumed this sort of smell was normal in the
middle of the wilderness. Eventually I came across a small
cave. It looked so peaceful and
serene, like I could throw out my tent and sleep there.
But that putrid sewage like stench filled the air even worse
than before. Like someone had been dumping
their trash in this cave for years.
As I inched closer, trying not to vomit, I saw something moving
around inside. It looked like a small child,
albeit covered in brown matted hair as anyone else would have.
I tried getting closer to quell my curiosity and see what in the
world this creature could be. But as I did, footsteps rivaling
that of Thunder started approaching me.
I tried to figure out what was going on, but before I could,
something struck my head hard, instantly sending me to the
ground. My vision became hazy, and I
felt something wet coming from my forehead.
I rubbed my fingers into the liquid, quickly realizing it was
my own blood. I glanced down to see a large
rock, obviously what caused the damage.
I tried to stand up and gather my bearings.
Unfortunately, this would be a moment that stuck with me for
the rest of my life. Towering above me was a
horrifying creature straight out of a monster movie.
It had to be around 9 feet tall, covered in Moss like brown hair.
The creatures stench alone was enough to bring a man to his
knees. Now I've never considered myself
a coward, especially considering I fought for my meals eight
years straight. But standing before this
colossal ape like creature left me with only one option, run.
I sprinted in retreat as fast as I could, knowing my life
depended on it. To my terror, I could hear the
creatures booming footsteps chasing behind me.
I don't know what it was trying to protect, but it would have
killed me before I found out. As I ran and ran, the behemoth
had no trouble keeping pace with me.
It was to the point that I was sure it's long arms could have
reached out and grabbed me. Not only that, but the grunting
noise it made with every step was terrifying.
It sounded inhuman, downright demonic if I was being honest.
My lungs felt like they were about to burst, but stopping for
a breath was not an option. There was no way I was going
from locked away to being killed by this thing.
Even when the blood had nearly stolen my vision, I kept going.
Thankfully, the end of this massive forest came into view.
Seeing as I was out of its domain, I no longer heard the
creature. Leaving all my supplies behind,
I raced back to my father's house.
I explained to him what happened, but he shook his head,
going as far as to accuse me of being on drugs.
That I must have taken a bad hit and started hallucinating.
Even the large gash in my head had to be self-inflicted.
I was so angry, but I guess it was understandable.
After all, who would believe that I saw such a monster?
I've never been a fan of the paranormal, but after
researching I came to the conclusion that what I saw was
the legendary Bigfoot, A being that until now I would have told
you was completely fabricated. It was so unreal I wish it were
drug induced. Fortunately I never saw that
terrifying beast again and it was safe to say that I lost any
and all interest in the great outdoors.
Now with a job and living the straight and narrow, I've put
all that behind me. But I will never forget my
encounter with the terrifying Sasquatch.
I'm a 62 year old man who has seen a lot in life.
My mother and grandmother were Cree natives and one day my
mother told me a story from her grandmother about the Wendigo
and how it related to our people.
She always warned me to be aware of the Wendigo.
When I came of age, I joined the Canadian Armed Forces.
My folks drove me to the gate to walk me into my new life and my
mom told me I'm proud of you my son, I'm sure you'll do well.
Just be careful when you're out in the wild and watch for the
Wendigo. After my basic training, I was
sent on a tradesman course and then to my first post.
I was assigned to the Special Service Forces in Petawawa, ON
as a communication specialist. Since my job included fixing
telecommunication equipment, I had top secret security
clearance. We trained hard while I was
there and I was ready to go head to head with whatever enemy I
would encounter in my missions. One day in December, we were
transported via helicopter to a mountain top close to Algonquin
Provincial Park for a week of winter warfare courses.
During this week of training, each of us had to do guard duty
at night. On one of those nights, at
around 2, AMI started hearing strange voices down the
mountain. That night, the temperature was
around -30°F. At first, I checked to see that
everyone was sleeping in their tents.
They were all accounted for. I scanned the area to see if I
could locate someone. There was nobody there, at least
no one that I could see with my military issue flashlight.
I continued hearing those voices for a while, so I decided to
call out to whoever was there. Hello, Who goes there?
You're on a Canadian Armed Forces base.
Identify yourself. There was no answer.
I kept looking for whatever might be there, but I was still
hearing those voices that sounded almost Asian.
Some came from the right, others from the left.
They seemed like they were having some kind of
conversation. Since it was a training and
learning exercise, we had no ammo in our weapons.
Not knowing what to expect, I did the second best thing I
could do. I fixed the bayonet and kept
walking around the camp. The voices stopped after a
while. I wondered who in their right
mind would hike into the wilderness for at least 20 miles
in such miserable weather just to pull a prank on us.
That week they closed down the base two times because it was so
cold. Of course, we stayed on the
mountaintop. It was part of the training,
they said. My replacement came after a
while and when he showed up the first thing he asked me was what
I was doing with the bayonet on my weapon.
I didn't want to say that I was hearing voices down below us, so
I told him. It was so cold that I decided to
do some drill movements to warm myself up.
I don't know if he believed me or not.
The next month there was a huge military exercise in Wainwright,
AB. The entire brigade ended up
there. One day I was going on a call
with my partner to do a repair on a piece of equipment that was
out in the middle of nowhere. We had been driving for about 45
minutes in deep snow and could not find the equipment.
I was driving and decided to stop and check our location to
find our target. My partner was looking at a
topographical map while I was trying to see if I could locate
a reference point. On our right there was a
forested area with pine and underbrush.
On the left there was an open field at about 100 feet from the
tree line. In my 10:00 position there was a
large white tailed buck foraging in the snow.
The deer was facing us and looking out in our direction.
Then out of nowhere, a huge creature blasted out of the tree
line and aimed directly toward the grazing deer.
It took less time for the beast to cover the approximate 100
feet to the deer than it took for me to tell my partner to
look. The beast grabbed the deer by
the head. It was taller than the deer by
about two feet. It was reddish brown in colour
with very wide shoulders. The head was pointed and set on
the shoulders without a neck. The arms were long and muscled,
the legs were like 50 gallon drums, and the body was covered
with long hair. I wish I had more time to look
at it and get more details, but everything went so fast.
As soon as the beast reached the deer, it placed one hand on the
top of the deer's head and the other on the back of the neck
and then twisted it like it was a rag.
Without even stopping, it headed back into the woods with the
deer over its shoulder. I put the truck in gear and said
let's get out of here. My partner managed to find the
trail leading to our destination and we found the equipment.
When we made our way back to the bivouac area, my Sergeant asked
me if everything went OK. I told him I didn't know what I
saw on our way to the other location, but it was pretty
freaky. He looked at me and said that he
didn't want to hear about it, so I kept it to myself and walked
away. As time went on and I grew
older, I realized that I had witnessed a Sasquatch harvesting
that deer. I had a nice career in the army.
I did some missions and went on several peacekeeping missions
throughout the world. I saw a lot of strange animals
and witnessed many unusual situations, but the beast in
Alberta was the one that I will never forget.
It's been many years since this happened to me and I had
originally thought a Mountain Lion was the cause of it, but
now I'm not so sure about that. Back in the early 1990s my best
friend and I went camping. It was the weekend before
Memorial Day and we were camping in a small campground off the
road between Lake Castaic and Lake Hughes in Southern
California. The first night was so annoying
due to all the gang bangers from LA showing up and making noise
all night that we packed up and left on Saturday morning.
I had heard about a place called Sawmill Mountain from one of my
Co workers and it was close by so we headed up there.
Sawmill Mountain is off the road between Lake Hughes and Gorman.
To get there you need to travel several miles from the turn off
on unimproved dirt roads to the campground.
When we got there it was midday on Saturday and we were the only
two people in the campground. The elevation was about 5000
feet and it was nice and cool up there with a beautiful view of
the valley below. It was a great campground.
We pitched our tents, set up camp, then ate some lunch and
sat down to relax in the shade. My buddy went inside his tent
and took a nap and I went to my tent and did the same.
After a short nap I decided to do a little exploring.
About 25 yards from our campsite was a trail and I walked on it
for about 150 yards. Off to the side of the trail
along the tree line I heard something moving and looked in
that direction. I thought I caught a glimpse of
something light colored, but it stopped moving.
I was still in condition white AKA low level alertness, and
didn't think anything was wrong. I kept walking a few more yards,
noticing that the wildflowers were blooming everywhere and
enjoying the views. All of a sudden I began to think
of that movie Predator, where the monster could see people but
they couldn't see him. Then I noticed that everything
had gone absolutely quiet. No insects, no birds chirping,
nothing. I did a 360° turn and didn't see
anything. Maybe the sudden silence had
triggered some primordial fight or flight response in me that
made me think of that movie. Anyway, I was armed at the time
with a Smith and Wesson 10mm and I made sure that I had my hand
on it. The gun gave me absolutely no
comfort whatsoever, though. The feeling of dread and despair
was so immense that I felt like I was in a panic.
I felt frozen in place for a few moments, then that little voice
in the back of my head kicked in and said get out of there now.
I didn't run because all I could think about was a Mountain Lion
and running would make it chase me.
I couldn't see what was watching or stalking me and you can't
shoot what you can't see. I started calling out to my
buddy as loud as I could and walked quickly back to camp.
Even after I got back I still felt pretty freaked out.
My buddy was there drinking a beer and I told him what
happened while you were napping in the tent.
I did the same thing. He said I felt the same way you
did and I never felt a feeling of dread like that before and
haven't since. It was so powerful it was
crippling. The rest of the weekend was
pretty uneventful. Some a hole in a Subaru brat
came up and drove around the campground like he was in the
Baja 500 around sundown, but nothing else happened.
It was a great place to camp, but neither of us went anywhere
alone. We had been back several more
times for weekend camp outs with larger groups of friends and
nothing odd had happened. Then on one camp out with the
same buddy a couple of years later, something did happen.
Once again. We were the only two up there.
I think we played hooky from work and went up midweek.
Anyway, we had a campfire going and had just polished off a
couple of thick rib eyes. I believe it was summer at the
time. I was telling my buddy what a
big wall of flame a 10mm would produce and he said well let's
see it. So I shot off a magazine from
it. As predicted, lots of flame and
noise. I holstered the gun and sat down
by the fire. You remember that creepy feeling
when we first discovered this place?
My buddy said to me. And I said that I did.
Well, I think it's back. I didn't pick up on it this
time, but I guess he did. We both had our guns out and
flashlights in our hands. My buddy thought that whatever
was causing it was watching us from beyond the camp.
We walked toward it, shining our lights up in the trees, thinking
it was a cougar or a bobcat, but there was nothing.
About 10 yards from camp, all of a sudden, something growled at
us. I won't repeat what my buddy
said, but we hightailed it back to camp as quickly as we could.
When we got there we lit every Lantern we had and threw a bunch
of termite eaten Pinewood into the fire to get things as bright
as we could. That night was rough to sleep
through, but nothing bothered us after that.
Now Fast forward to about 3 weeks ago.
I was talking to my buddy by text message about what we've
been calling the ghost of Sawmill Mountain and I had said
that I thought it was a Mountain Lion.
What he said blew my mind. He is pretty sure it was a
Sasquatch that day many years ago.
He pointed me to a bunch of Bigfoot websites and I did a
little reading. I have to say that I'm starting
to agree with him. From everything I read, they
stay close enough to us that they can keep an eye on us.
Unlike the hippie view that they're the gentle guardians of
the forest, they're actually an apex predator.
I think on that day I was either on the menu or I made the thing
mad by scaring off what it was after.
I also think the growl a couple of years later was a gentle
reminder to stop making so much racket in its territory and stay
in our campsite. I found out that the Pacific
Crest Trail, which runs from Mexico to Canada through
California, Oregon, and Washington, cuts right through
the Sawmill Mountain campground. The websites that track Bigfoot
sightings have had a few in the general area.
I live in Arizona now, but I'd like to go back there someday to
look for evidence of stick structures and other strange
signs. Anyway, that's my little story
of Bigfoot. In the spring of 1988, my
boyfriend and I, along with other college friends, decided
to spend our whole spring break hiking and camping in the Sierra
Nevada Mountains. One of our friends fathers grew
up in that area and recommended a spot for us near a place
called Round Lake. We hiked into the mountains and
had a beautiful view of the lake.
There were seven of us on that trip, and we planned to stay for
a couple of days. At around 8:00 PM on the second
day, we had our dinner and we're just finishing up the dishes.
One of the other couples went for a walk, ostensibly to find a
spot to watch the sunset. An hour or so later, they came
running back into camp, saying they had seen a monster.
They explained that they were sitting on a rock ledge when
they noticed a pine tree shaking wildly.
The trees in that area were not tightly packed, and there were
many bare spots, so the shaking pine tree stood out.
As they watched, they glimpsed a large black figure and initially
thought it was a bear. Then the shaking stopped.
To their surprise, a strange looking creature emerged from
the woods, running in an unusual way.
It seemed deformed, propelling itself forward with its front
legs instead of using its back legs.
As they continued watching, they realized it wasn't a bear, but
as one of them described, the biggest freaking chimp I've ever
seen. The creature then transitioned
from moving on all fours to casually walking on two feet.
It stopped, stared out over the valley, and then sat down with
its back to them. They estimated that it was at
least 5 1/2 feet tall when sitting.
Although it had seen them, it seemed almost indifferent to
their presence. My boyfriend remarked.
Well that sounds like Bigfoot. And excitedly everyone wanted to
go see it, so the whole group walked to the spot.
By the time we arrived, the creature was gone.
My boyfriend then pointed to the dark sky to the east asking do
you guys see this? We all looked and saw spinning
lights, though the source of the lights was invisible.
The lights stopped and we heard a loud moan to the right of us
that lasted about 45 seconds. When the moan stopped, it was
followed by a higher pitched whoop and then the spinning
lights resumed. This cycle repeated several
times, each time with the lights getting closer to us as the
phenomenon continued. We heard the moans and whoops
coming from all around us and even from above, further up the
mountain. We were all terrified, and
someone suggested returning to camp.
Once back at camp, we should have packed up and just left,
but we inexplicably felt safer. At our campsite.
We talked about our experience, but no one suggested leaving.
We continued chatting and oddly enough, I don't recall feeling
fear yet. Someone then mentioned seeing
something in the woods darting from tree to tree.
When I asked if it was a Bigfoot, my friend said that it
was glowing a silvery white color and was only four feet
tall. He suddenly yelled look, it's
right there and we all scanned the woods feeling more freaked
out. I saw the look of shock on my
boyfriend's face, so I looked where he was looking.
There, eight to 10 feet up a tree, was a silvery white being
with its hands holding onto the trunk.
The fire light didn't illuminate the whole tree, so the details
were pretty unclear, but it had five fingers with what appeared
to be suction cups on its tips. I saw one side of its bulbous
head and one large eye the size of a baseball.
The head was as large as a party balloon.
Minutes later, we heard a large crack of a tree limb.
One of the guys said that they saw red eyes glowing and then
moving back behind the tree. Suddenly one of the girls
screamed and we all jumped up in fright, looking in the direction
that she was pointing. There it was a Sasquatch,
standing and staring at us while swaying back and forth.
My God, this thing must have been well over 11 feet tall.
It breathed very heavily, its mouth pursed downward, inhaling
through its nose and exhaling with a loud growl.
We then heard the sound of brush moving and saw a bright lighted
figure appear. We watched as the Bigfoot turned
and walked out of the campsite toward the figure.
And that was our chance to escape.
None of us really packed anything, we just ran to the
cars and left. A few of us returned the next
day to retrieve some of our belongings.
Nothing had been touched, not even the coolers of food, and as
far as I know, none of us ever went back to that location.
Most of us still keep in touch, but we rarely ever talk about
the surreal events of that night.
My family owns a cabin in the mountains.
My great grandfather built the original section and my
grandfather, father and I have all added more to the cabin over
the decades. It went from a small two room
cabin to A2 story 5 room cabin with a porch.
Upstairs is the bedroom with two beds and downstairs is the
living room, kitchen, bathroom, and study.
The study has an old steel tanker desk.
My grandpa put their bookshelves full of old hunting, fishing,
and trapping books and a ton of old sci-fi novels my dad read as
a kid. I decided to stay at that cabin
over the summer instead of working between college
semesters to maintain the property.
Neighbors in the area had complained of vandalism and
theft, and my dad was worried about someone breaking into the
cabin, so I planned to live there for the summer and take
care of the property. I packed up the old Ford Bronco
with food and other necessities, took a rifle and a revolver, and
even brought my dog. The dog, an Australian Shepherd
named Roscoe, was a great companion.
The five hour drive to the cabin was pretty uneventful, and when
I arrived, I was greeted by the serenity of nature.
Yes, I would be alone for the whole summer, with the only
human contact being trips into town for gas and food, but I was
cool with that. I spent the rest of the day
unloading my supplies into the cabin, getting the generator
started, turning on the lights, and generally settling in.
Nothing unusual happened the first night.
The next day I mowed the grass around the cabin, hacked down
weeds and small trees growing along the trails, cleaned out
deer blinds, and got rid of wasp nests on the eaves of the cabin.
Roscoe kept freezing and staring off into the woods like he saw
something, but then he would just shrug it off and follow me,
panting and wagging his tail. I spent the rest of the day
cleaning solar panels and checking batteries so I wouldn't
need to run the generator for anything except the AC or TV.
The TV was an old console style from the 60s and the antenna
didn't pick up anything but static since everything is
digital now. However, it had my old NES from
when I was a kid hooked up to it, which was very nostalgic.
That night I cooked some Wolf brand chili.
No beans because chili doesn't have beans.
You heretics On the gas stove in the kitchen and admired the view
out the kitchen window. The motion triggered lights.
Picked up a raccoon hanging around behind the cabin and I
watched it while I cooked. I ate dinner in the living room
while reading a book on African big game hunting.
Death in the tall Grass I think it was called.
The lights started dimming and something was wrong with the
inverter. The solar cells weren't charging
the batteries fully. I called it an early night and
headed to bed to save the batteries.
The following day I tried to figure out why the batteries
weren't charging but was completely clueless.
Roscoe kept looking off into the woods and whining.
I gave up on fixing the battery charger and decided to run solar
by day and the generator at night.
I headed off into the woods to check the fence line of the
property. I had my grandpa's old S&W Model
10 A38 revolver from when he was a cop in the 60s on my hip in
case of snakes or whatever. Roscoe was acting increasingly
nervous though, refusing to leave my sight and staring into
the woods and whining. It was unusual behavior, but I
just kind of shrugged it off. The fence was damaged in a
couple of places, so I made a note of where I needed to do
repairs. I had all summer, so I was in no
hurry. Suddenly, Roscoe started barking
and snarling like something was there.
I turned to look, but didn't see anything.
I drew my revolver and called out.
Who's there? Roscoe charged off into the
woods, still barking, and something big went crashing
through the brush. Pursued by Roscoe.
I called my dog and chased after him, worried that he was going
to get into a fight with a bear or something.
Suddenly I heard Roscoe Yelp, and he ran back to join me, tail
tucked between his legs. There was a loud roar like
nothing I had ever heard before, and more crashing in the brush
ahead. I still hadn't seen whatever the
dog was chasing, and at this point I didn't want to see it.
I ran back to the cabin with Roscoe right behind me to load
the rifle. It was a Gibbs carbine,
basically a sporterized Enfield rifle in .308 with a nickel
finish. I had only brought it along in
case a bear tried to break into the cabin, not because I
intended to actually shoot anything.
With a round in the chamber and the magazine fully loaded, I
stayed in the cabin for the rest of the day.
I didn't see or hear anything unusual, and eventually I
relaxed. I cooked some dinner, fed
Roscoe, read some more of my book, and headed to bed,
revolver now under my pillow and rifle leaning against the wall
next to the bed. Of course, the next day I set
out to finish checking the fence line, taking the rifle with me.
This time Roscoe was increasingly nervous, tail
tucked between his legs, shaking and growling while staring off
into the woods. He was making me nervous too,
but I didn't see or hear anything odd.
The birds were chirping, squirrels were doing their
thing, and everything seemed normal except for the dog.
I started checking the area near the Creek, and that's when
things got bizarre. The Berry bushes were picked
clean. Normally they would have berries
this time of year. I started to suspect that we had
a bear in the area and that's what we had encountered the
previous day. There were weird footprints in
the mud around the Creek, too big and shaped wrong to be a
deer or a pig. But there were so many prints
that the mud was churned up and I couldn't get a clear look at
any of them. Suddenly something sailed
through the air and landed on the trail a few feet from me.
It was a pine cone. What the heck?
Another one flew out of the woods and landed on the trail.
Somebody was throwing pine cones at me.
I shouted who's there? No response.
I informed whoever was in the woods that they were trespassing
on private property and that I was armed.
A large stick flew at me and missed.
I threw it back and yelled that I was calling the sheriff if
they didn't leave. They threw a rock at me.
Forget this. I flipped off the safety on my
rifle and fired a shot into the air.
There was dead silence other than the ringing in my ears.
I made a show of chambering another round and yelled that I
was going to call the sheriff so they needed to leave
immediately. There was dead silence again for
a long, tense moment, and then a hail storm of rocks, sticks,
pine cones, and other stuff was thrown at me from the woods.
A couple of them hit me hard enough to hurt, and Roscoe
yelped when a rock hit him. I still couldn't see who was
throwing things. I fired another shot, this time
into the woods in the direction the rocks were coming from
instead of into the air. There was that loud roar again
and I said forget this, I was out of there.
I ran back to the cabin with whoever was throwing rocks and
things crashing through the brush parallel to the trail,
still throwing stuff. Roscoe finally had enough and
charged off into the woods snarling.
There was an ear splitting scream and my dog was snarling
and barking like he was fighting something.
I started to follow Roscoe, chambering another round in my
rifle, but then another rock flew through the air and hit me
in the head. That one knocked me for a loop.
I saw that there was blood everywhere and I retreated back
to the cabin and locked myself inside.
Roscoe showed up a few minutes later.
He was covered in mud, blood, and leaves.
I checked my phone and of course, no signal out here.
I topped off the magazine of my rifle and considered driving
into town to call the sheriff. No, forget that I thought my
heart was going a mile a minute and whoever was throwing rocks
should be more scared of me than vice versa.
After all, I had a gun and Roscoe clearly got into a fight
with whoever it was. I cleaned the dog up, put some
antibiotics on his wounds, and then checked mine.
I had a nasty bruise on my forehead and a small cut.
I cleaned it up and slapped a Band-Aid on it.
I was in siege mode just in case that thing returned.
I ran the generator so I had lights.
I kept checking out the windows while I cook dinner.
The motion triggered, lights went off a few times, but I
never saw anything. I eventually decided the
trespasser had enough and wasn't going to come back.
I shut off the generator and headed to bed, guns still ready
to go. Of course.
I woke up the next morning, grabbed my rifle and Roscoe, and
went to check the property for any signs of the trespasser.
The woods were eerily quiet, though.
Roscoe was acting nervous once again, and I was, at this point,
thoroughly creeped out. I decided to spend the entire
day holed up inside the cabin. I didn't see or hear anything
unusual whenever I checked outside, but it was still eerily
quiet. No birds, no animals moving,
nothing. I spent the entire day
alternating between reading and nervously looking out the
windows. Come nightfall, I refueled the
generator and started it before it got too dark outside.
Then I headed into the kitchen and started cooking a pot of
canned beef Stew. The motion triggered lights kept
going off, but I didn't see anything.
Roscoe was whining and acting nervous again.
I kept the .38 holstered on my hip and the rifle next to my
chair in the living room. After checking the front windows
again, I walked back into the kitchen just in time to see
something looking through the window at me.
I couldn't tell what it was, I just saw its eyes in the dark
silhouette. I shouted and drew my revolver,
pointing it at the window and at that moment whatever it was
vanished. Running up to the window, I
looked outside as the motion lights went off and saw a large
shadow disappearing into the trees.
The window was high off the ground and walking out the back
kitchen door required going down a short flight of steps.
I'm 6 feet tall and wouldn't be able to look into the kitchen
window from outside, so whatever was peering into the window must
have been massive. I was convinced it was a bear,
so I holstered my gun again, stirred the Stew on the stove
pot, and turned down the heat so it wouldn't burn.
Then I retrieved the rifle and stepped out the kitchen door to
see if I could see or hear anything.
The lights flickered and the generator sputtered, coughed,
and then died. I was left in the dark.
I headed back into the cabin, barked my shin on the coffee
table, and laid my rifle in the chair.
Roscoe was whining and then I grabbed an old army angle head
flashlight from by the front door and stepped onto the porch.
The generator was in an enclosure to the left of the
door. I opened it up to double check
the fuel tank and didn't see anything obviously wrong, then
started the generator up again and the lights came back on.
There was the sound of shattering glass and I ran back
into the kitchen just in time to see a long hairy arm reaching
through the broken window and grabbing my pot of Stew on the
stove. I whipped out the .38 and
emptied it at the window. There was an ear splitting
screech and the pot of Stew was dropped, making a mess all over
the stove top and kitchen floor. I ran to the window in time to
see a huge figure vanish into the trees again.
I grabbed my rifle from my chair and then ran upstairs to the
bedroom. I ejected the empty cases from
my revolver and reloaded from the box of ammo on the night
stand. I checked out the bedroom
window. The motion lights were on, but I
didn't see anything. I headed back downstairs and
went out the kitchen door. Roscoe was shaking and refused
to follow me. I stood at the very edge of
where the motion lights illuminated the tree line,
shining my light into the woods and shouting threats.
Something rustled in the brush and I caught a glimpse of motion
in the beam of my flashlight. Shouldering my rifle, I started
to squeeze the trigger when the lights went out.
Wait, the lights didn't go out? I could still see the yard lit
up. I turned and there was something
huge between me and the lights, creating the dark spot.
I somehow avoided defecating myself and fired my rifle at the
silhouette. There was a scream and something
shaped like a person ran off into the woods.
I chambered a new round and fired again and a rock came
sailing out of the woods in the direction of where I saw motion.
There were two of them. I fired a third shot in the
direction of the rock thrower, then drew my revolver and
emptied it into the woods. There was another loud roar and
something huge crashing into the brush as another rock sailed
towards me. I heard more crashing off to the
side where the one that got between me and the cabin ran.
Forget this, I thought. I wasn't getting surrounded and
I hauled my butt into the cabin, double checked all the doors and
windows were locked, reloaded both guns and covered the broken
kitchen window with a piece of plywood, nailing it into the
wall. There was a constant thumping
sound as at least two of the creatures were hurling rocks and
sticks at the walls of the cabin.
I retreated upstairs with Roscoe, open the bedroom windows
and fired multiple shots into the woods around the cabin.
The rain of rocks and sticks stopped, and after a while the
motion lights stopped going off. I heard a weird noise coming
from the woods, like a cross between animal grunts and
somebody singing without words. I fired another shot into the
woods and the noise stopped. I stayed up all night, too
afraid to sleep, and the generator ran out of gas at
around 3:00 AM and the cabin switched to battery power.
The batteries still weren't charging properly so the lights
went out less than an hour later, leaving nothing but dead
silence. Dawn finally arrived and I
jumped in the Bronco with Roscoe and hauled ass into town.
As soon as I reached the gas station on the edge of the small
town near the cabin, I pulled out my phone and called my dad
to tell him what happened. He told me to stay put and that
he was on his way. It was a 5 hour drive so I had a
bit of a wait and I just sat in the Bronco with Roscoe the
entire time, dozing but too high strung to actually fall asleep.
Dad finally pulled into the parking lot next to me, had me
tell the whole story, and then we called the sheriff.
A deputy showed up and I told him the whole story.
The deputy was obviously very skeptical but followed us to the
cabin. We showed him the rocks and
sticks all around the cabin, the scuff marks on the wall, the
broken window, the spilled Stew, etcetera.
The deputy also noticed all the spent brass where I had been
shooting and decided that something obviously happened and
I wasn't just making it up. We all three haunted around for
footprints or other evidence and we found a few, but they were
never clear enough to really make out.
The deputy wrote it all down in his little notebook and said
three other people reported similar incidents in the past
month, and then he left. Dad helped me clean up the mess
in the kitchen, refueled the generator, and fixed the
inverter so the solar cells charged the batteries properly.
I threw all my things in the Bronco because screw staying
here all summer. I didn't return to the cabin
until hunting season the following winter, and only with
my dad and uncle with me. I never saw or heard anything
unusual again. Our house sat at the edge of an
expanse of wood so vast you could lose a day just hiking
through them. Most folks would call it
peaceful, but to me, those woods always held a quiet menace, like
a predator waiting to pounce. It was home, though, and for the
most part, we'd learn to coexist with the wilderness.
Every day, like clockwork, I took our two dogs out to their
kennels. The black Lab Husky mix, Bella
and the Staffordshire terrier, Max, needed the exercise and
space to stretch their legs. The kennels were sturdy, placed
just on the border where our yard met the forest.
Usually they loved it out there, barking at squirrels and chasing
shadows. But lately something had
changed. It started with small things.
When night fell, Bella and Max would bark and wine to come back
inside. I figured they just wanted the
comfort of the house, but their behavior seemed more desperate,
almost fearful. The first time it truly unnerved
me was three nights ago. That evening, I was running
late. It was already dark by the time
I went to fetch the dogs, but the security light by the
kennels cast a reassuring glow. As I approached, I noticed the
eerie silence. Bella and Max always barked
excitedly when they saw me coming, but tonight they were
silent, their bodies tense and alert.
My heart picked up its pace, a primal response to the unease in
the air. It felt electric, like the
moments before a lightning strike.
I shook it off, trying to focus on getting Bella out first.
She stood at the front of her kennel, tail tucked between her
legs, eyes darting toward the woods.
I opened the gate, and just then, I heard it.
A heavy snap, like a thick branch breaking under foot.
My blood ran cold, and I froze. Bella did too.
For a moment, all I could hear was the pounding of my own
heart. The silence that followed was
thick, oppressive. Max whimpered from his kennel,
pressing himself as far from the woods as he could get.
I hurried Bella out, my hands shaking.
She bolted toward the house, practically dragging me along.
I felt guilty leaving Max, but I had no choice.
I turned back, the path to his kennel seeming longer and darker
than before. The air grew heavy, a rank smell
of decay wafting from the woods. My step slowed, dread creeping
in like a chill. Another snap, closer this time.
I could barely move, feeling like I was walking through
molasses. Max was pressed against the back
of his kennel, eyes wide with fear.
I fumble with the latch, the feeling of being watched
intensifying as I finally got the gate open.
I heard it, heavy breathing low and menacing.
Max growled, his hackles raised, and I knew we had to run.
The breathing grew louder, closer, as if whatever it was
was right behind me. We ran, Max pulling me with a
strength born of pure terror. A scream tore through the night,
chilling me to the bone. I didn't look back, couldn't
look back. We reached the house, slammed
the door shut, and I flipped off the lights.
My heart hammered as I stared out the window, watching the
edge of the woods. Something moved out there, just
beyond the reach of the light. It swayed back and forth, a dark
silhouette that sent shivers down my spine.
For five long minutes it lingered, then vanished into the
darkness. I didn't sleep much that night,
every Creek and Russell setting my nerves on edge.
The next day, I decided to bring the dogs in earlier, before
dusk. I hoped it would be enough, but
deep down I knew whatever was out there wasn't going away.
It was watching. Waiting, and it had just begun.
The next evening I decided to bring the dogs in early, just as
the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.
I hoped it would make a difference, but deep down I knew
it was a thin veneer of safety. The woods felt alive watching,
waiting for the right moment to strike.
Bella and Max seemed calmer at dusk, their usual selves playing
and barking in the kennels. I approached them with a sense
of cautious optimism. Maybe the darkness was the real
enemy. But as I unlatched Bella's
kennel, a sharp crack echoed through the trees.
It wasn't just a branch breaking, it was something
deliberate, calculated. My heart skipped a beat, but I
forced myself to stay calm. Bella sensed my unease, her ears
perking up, eyes fixed on the forest.
I hurried her out and we made our way back to the house.
The tension in the air was palpable, like a rubber band
stretched too thin. When I returned for Max, the
shadows were lengthening, the forest, a mass of dark shapes
and indistinct sounds. I could feel eyes on me, but I
didn't dare look. Max was at the far end of his
kennel, whimpering softly. The moment I unlatched the door,
he bolted out, nearly knocking me over in his haste.
We had barely taken a few steps when a crashing sound erupted
from the woods, followed by the unmistakable sound of something
big moving fast. My heart pounded in my ears as I
grabbed Max's collar and we ran. The sound of heavy footsteps
behind us sent a surge of adrenaline through my veins.
We didn't stop until we were safely inside the house.
I slammed the door shut and flipped off the lights, peering
out the window. The woods were still, now eerily
quiet, but I knew it was out there watching.
I felt a cold dread settle in my stomach.
This was no ordinary animal. For the next few nights, the
noises continued. The sounds of branches snapping,
objects being thrown, and a low guttural growl that sent chills
down my spine. It felt like a siege, an
invisible force wearing us down, waiting for the perfect moment
to strike. I started taking Bella and Max
for walks during the day, making sure we were all inside before
dusk. It was a temporary solution, but
I knew we couldn't live like this forever.
The fear was consuming us, seeping into every aspect of our
lives. One night, as I lay in bed
staring at the ceiling, I decided I couldn't take it
anymore. I had to do something.
The next morning, I went into town and bought a gun.
It felt heavy in my hands, a cold, metallic reminder of the
reality we were facing. I wasn't sure if it would help,
but it gave me a semblance of control, a way to fight back.
That evening I sat by the window, the gun in my lap,
watching the edge of the woods. Bella and Max were inside,
restless and on edge. The sun dipped below the horizon
and the familiar sounds started up again, branches snapping, the
growl and then the scream. It was closer this time, more
insistent. I tighten my grip on the gun, my
heart pounding. I knew I couldn't let fear
control me. Whatever was out there, it was
time to face it. I opened the door and stepped
out onto the porch, the darkness enveloping me.
The sounds grew louder, the growl turning into a roar.
I stood, my ground, gun raised, ready to confront whatever
horror the woods held. The night was thick with
tension, the air electric. I took a deep breath, steadying
myself. This was our home and I wasn't
going to let it be taken from us, not without a fight.