It's a big world out there. Welcome to Bigfoot's Wilderness Podcast. Have you
ever heard this before? I would wager you have. Anyway, I can
promise you, Mike, that I'm not crazy, but I will admit I
am a bit eccentric. My name is Brad and I'm from the state next
to Vermont. That's all I can really say. As my family is quite
prominent and occasionally in the news. I typically keep my personal and professional life
separate. But what I'm about to get into would probably get me exiled from
the family and I can't afford to do that. Sorry for being a bit
mysterious. I want to share, but also need my anonymity. I enjoy
your podcast because this experience has now become a part of my life. So
here goes. Back in the early two thousands, a very close friend was
killed in a hit and run accident adjacent to a state park as her car
had stalled and was crushed in an accident it's been called a t bone,
a side impact collision in which the driver hits the side of the body of
the vehicle, which causes blunt force trauma. It was my opinion that this
is the most vulnerable place on practically any car. My also opinion was validated
by an expert who had seen similar accidents. Needless to say, she died.
I never got a chance to say good bye. Everything happened so quickly.
I still miss her. Sara was the athletic type. She could run
five miles in the early morning hours and then hike another four miles in the
afternoon. Her trails could be anywhere and whenever she felt the urge to explore.
But several weeks before her death, she had told me that she kept
coming back almost daily to one particular place. Something about this patch of woods
intrigued her. What she told me next may have had most people rolling their
eyes. But I knew Sarah better than anyone except her parents. Of Course,
she was genuine and truthful. There wasn't any reason to lie about what
some people would consider outrageous or even outlandish. I saw something, actually more
than something many somethings, okay, she said excitedly. We talked on the
phone for an hour. She couldn't quite get it out. She was so
guarded, even around me. She just thought that I might judge her and
would only call them some things. Well, there were big ones and small
ones. The somethings roamed this patch of woods, and Sarah was a frequent
visitor. I bring them food as a kind of a peace offering. I
put a basketful of apples, lettuce and other fruits and vegetables, and when
I come back the next day to retrieve the basket, everything is gone.
And then the following day I bring some more. Sarah, what do they
look like? Are you sure they aren't just a bunch of homeless people.
You've got to be extremely careful, please, I pleaded. I've been traveling
throughout the country at the time, so the best I could do was check
in by phone or text. One day, I did receive a text that
simply said they like cantaloupe. I could only smirk, as no one could
even guess what was really happening here. The next message said, I know
what they are, bigfoot, a family of them. There's even an infant
that the mother cradles. She let me see it from about fifty feet away.
On a given Wednesday, I happen to be on the West coast and
three hours behind I've received a phone call roughly at three thirty in the morning.
She said she was wanting me to listen but don't talk, and she
put me on speaker. I heard the car door slam, and then I
heard her moving through brush, followed by a clacking noise. There were several
and then she hung up. I texted her back, were those rocks?
It sounded like rocks. What's going on a few hours later she responded with
a simple yes. I worried for her. I wanted to go back home
so I could talk some more with her about what she was experiencing. I'd
be crazy if I didn't think that whatever she was doing could go spinning out
of control. I guess I'm a forward thinker, or maybe I'm just a
little paranoid. But could people see her interacting? Was she being safe?
It seemed like she didn't always have a plan. Exactly where was this happening?
Which State Park? Two weeks later, and I was now back in
town, we met for dinner, and, smiling ear to ear, she
quietly went through the details of her habituation with these creatures. It was all
sounding so serious, so I tried to lighten the mood a little. Sarah,
you don't even own a cat, and you're making friends with Bigfoot.
Her face turned beat red. I had overstepped. I'm sorry. It just
all seems so fantastic, and you know my sense of humor. After dinner,
we took a walk and that's when she said, I want to see
him. I smiled and nodded, yeah, I do. The very next
morning, we drove in towards the park and pulled off at a very wide
shoulder. It was almost inviting, and the woods weren't really that thick.
I guess I had imagined we'd be traveling on foot for a while, but
we only walked maybe a hundred yards towards a stand of trees. This is
the odd day, she said, No treats today, just here to pick
up the basket. By now, they usually come welcome me in some way
with a rock clack. No such luck, and it was eerily silent.
Sarah retrieved the basket. Of course, it was empty. She knew right
away what she'd brought. She briefed me on inventory of organic fruits and vegetables
that she'd most recently left. As much as I wanted to keep an open
mind, this was the strangest of strange situations, and yet Sarah was glowing.
I had never seen her like this, was there really something here,
Bigfoot? We waited around for over an hour nothing. I don't understand.
They're always here. Something's wrong. And then she stared at me. It's
you what I said. They won't come around because of you. They don't
know you, she said, So now you're a Jane Goodall, I joked
once again, her face turned beat red. I couldn't stop with the wise
cracks. Sarah was smart, especially when it came to street smarts, but
she had barely graduated high school while I was at the top of my class.
Even in college. We were an unlikely pair, but our personalities clicked
on that first day as freshman, and I've always been grateful for it.
Eleven days later, on an early Saturday morning, departing from yet another trip
to this hot spot, Sarah's life was cut short. While her friends and
family probably wondered why she was so actively hiking and running, her secret was
safe with me. I want you to know, Mike that, since I
sort of knew her routine coming out to her favorite place now, I decided
to make a run out here for her, almost like a farewell visit.
I borrowed my dad's truck, bought the produce the night before and made my
way out at the crack of dawn. I'd had a few drinks roughly eight
hours ago and was still feeling the effect in the form of sleepiness. I
was grieving. I had drifted off and parked on that wide and welcoming shoulder.
The basket of produce was on the passenger seat, and I slowly awoke
to the sound of pebbles bouncing off the truck's window, door and hood.
It roused me slightly, and as I drifted off yet again, I awoke
again, but this time to tapping, as if something was tapping their hand
on the window like with a ring. You know that tapping noise, tap
tap tap tap, clunk, clunk. Someone was pulling on the door handle.
Now my eyes opened and darted to the passenger side. I caught sight
of something, the something the big foot. I saw hair. I saw
shape, A massive shape disappeared down the side of my truck, down the
tailgate from what I saw in the mirror. Now, I said out loud,
I needed to do it now. I wasn't brave like Sarah. She
never once told me anything hostile about them, but that thing was gigantic,
and now it's hiding behind the back of the truck. I think I have
to do this for Sarah, I thought one last time as I rubbed my
throbbing head. Now I said again, OK, here you go, and
I rolled down the passenger window and heaved the basket outside. My head was
killing me. I'm not brave like you, Sara. You were always the
brave one, and I'm scared right now. So if you can hear me,
please let me get out of here in one piece, I said in
our father, and put it in drive. I caught sight of the basket
turned over. Produce had spilled everywhere, but I saw nothing of the something,
the creature, the bigfoot. As I pulled ahead, almost to the
same spot where Sarah had been hit, I felt a wave of relief come
over me. I whipped a u turn, heading back to the welcoming wide
shoulder. The produce, lettuce, tomatoes, apples, cantaloupe. They were
all gone, but the basket was there, sitting upright and empty. Empty.
Without even thinking, I stepped out of the truck to retrieve my friend's
basket. I picked it up, held it and heard the sound of rocks
clacking together. Did they know about Sarah? Did they connect the dots to
me? I would make the trip out there every other day for the rest
of the summer, even days with a full basket and odd days to retrieve
it. I never shared this with any one else. I felt like they
simply wouldn't understand. This was between me, Sarah, and the somethings better
known to all as Bigfoot. Thank you for letting me share my story.
Bread mum, m m hm