I am of Aboriginal descent and I have hunted all my life. A friend
and I decided to search for a new area to track moose and deer,
and we both live in Prince George and we know all the areas within fifty
miles or so, but we had the itch to go see some new country.
We hooked a jeep to the back of the motor home and off we
went toward the mountains and Pine Pass. We found a perfect spot just off
Highway ninety seven, eighteen miles south of Chetwynd. It was noon when we
disconnected the jeep and immediately drove up the older trail to see where it would
take us. To our surprise, the road was in pretty decent shape.
As we immediately started to climb up the mountain, we came to several awesome
clearcuts that allowed us to see an alder directions. We were in the middle
of one of these clear cuts and decided to hide the jeep back in the
heavily forested area and walked to a good vantage point that was in the middle
of the clearing. We were sitting on a knoll that was about twelve feet
above the skitterer trail, which we could see through the willows. We figured
that we would enjoy a couple of sandwiches and didn't really expect to come across
anything unusual, as we had driven through with the jeep twenty minutes earlier.
It was a beautiful day and we were sitting with our backs to each other,
me watching the downhill and my partner watching the uphill. The grade was
ten to twelve percent, with small willows not blocking our vantage point, and
we could see five hundred yards in all directions. Four massive bucks came out
of a patch of trees that were only one hundred and fifty yards on the
downhill side. Well, that was a good sign, and since it was
the day before the season opened, we headed back to set up can and
we decided that we would walk to the same spot in the morning. We
set out before daylight because we figured it would take us an hour to get
there on foot. I have to admit that this was a bit unnerving for
me because I like to see my surroundings when I'm in grizzly country. But
nevertheless, off we went. My partner had done this night walk hundreds of
times, and he said that we would be fine he was such a nice
guy that if we happened to come across at grizzly in the dark, he
was going to trip me and get the hell out of there. He didn't
get the chuckle out of me that he was expecting anyway. We arrived about
twenty minutes before shooting light, and we just sat there and listened to all
of nature's sounds. Now, this next part is very important and it needs
to be explained. There was no way in hell that even a coyote could
be in the vicinity without one of us spotting it. There was nowhere for
an animal to hide unless there were crouched within the same small clump of trees
that the bucks had emerged from the day before. It was an uneventful first
few hours, and it was now approaching the same time of day that we
had initially seen those deer. There wasn't much wind, except for a slight
breeze from time to time. I had just remarked to my buddy about how
quiet it was, when all at once I could hear a high pitch,
buzzing sound, and I thought it might just be my ears ringing. The
best way to describe the sound was as if someone had put a tuning fork
to my head. I looked over to my buddy and he said he could
hear it too. On the Skiter trail right below us appeared a dark shape
that we could see through the willows. There was literally no way that this
thing could have walked up on us because we could see ninety percent of the
terrain all around us. It had hair rather than fur, and then all
at once it stood up on two legs and it was staring right at us.
That freaked me out, and my buddy with the cooler had warned me
not to shoot, but to take the safety off and be ready. This
thing stared at us for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only seconds.
It dropped back down on all fours and it let out a scream,
and it shook us to our core. We should have caught a visual twenty
feet down the Sketterer trail, but clearly it had serious stealth going for it.
The high pitched sound was hitting our ear drums again as we sat there
for another hour, concerned that we had not seen it leave the area.
We knew it was still close and being ambushed was on both of our minds.
The stalemate drug on until my buddy finally said that he was going to
walk down to the skitter trail and have a look. Well, I was
terrified, and I was about to see my friend get torn up right in
front of me. It only took him a minute or two before he shot
to me to help him estimate how tall this thing was by raising one end
of his gun up in the air. His arm sockets were straining as he
held the weapon above his head. We guessed the beast appeared to be at
least ten feet tall, judging by my buddy's rotator cuffs. I've heard stories
over the years about sasquatch and always blew them off as folklore. Whatever this
thing was, it had somehow eluded us and vacated the premises. I was
shook by my experience, and I chose to leave. On the ride home,
my buddy told me about several encounters he'd had with sasquatch over the years,
and based on his well worn travel tales, I assumed that they must
be everywhere. When he invited me out into the wilderness for another overnighter,
I declined I couldn't bring myself to get back out there. He tried to
convince me that sightings were few and far between and that the sasquatch would rather
be left alone. It's why he warned me off from shooting my gun at
it that day. After letting the encounter simmer in my head for a few
weeks, I'll let my buddy talk me into another hunting trip. He thought
facing my fears by going out to the same general area would be good for
me psychologically. All was nervous as hell while we were there, but after
bagging two really nice mules and an immature bull, I started feeling like my
old self. It's always mystified me how the thing I saw that day managed
to vanish without us viewing its escape something they travel through portals, or that
the high pitched ringing we heard was something to do with their ability to teleport.
I don't know if I believe that. It doesn't make me feel any
better knowing that these things can appear wherever and whenever they want. I don't
want to stop going out into the bush, so I'll continue on as I've
always done. After thirty five years of living in metropolitan Portland, Oregon,
I moved in late two thousand and six to a tiny incorporated town of Springdale,
Washington. The population there is two hundred and ninety four. It's about
an hour northwest of Spokane. I began a job doing community development planning and
grant riding for the Northwestern Indian Tribes in the early summer of two thousand and
seven. I was driving home from work. I had just left the Spokane
Indian Reservation, heading north on a country road that is the eastern boundary of
the reservation. Along the east side of that road is a steep embankment,
and looking down, I spotted a small sasquatch. It was maybe four feet
tall, that had scraggly and dusty looking charcoal hair that was about four inches
long. It had wideshow like a human in no visible tale or ears.
I couldn't determine if it was a male or a female. I saw it
only in profile as it stepped forward nearly on all fours. I never got
a glimpse of its face. When I asked my coworkers the next day about
Sasquatch sightings, I was told that they were not uncommon, but were more
often seen in the western side of the reservation that bordered there by the Columbia
River. The ute Indian grandmother with whom I became friends in Springdale, shared
with me that she and her grandson, who attended elementary school, had seen
a sasquatch a couple of years earlier as they entered the town from the east.
It crossed the road in front of their car and an area dotted with
a few houses in the woods. Now they claimed it was carrying a full
green trash bag over its shoulder, as if it had just raided a garbage
can. Well. While in Springdale, I began following sasquatchts and discussions on
YouTube. I particularly enjoyed hearing Coombo's encounters and information sharing David Polattis Sasquatch and
Missing four one stories, and West Gurmer's Sasquatch chronicles. I realized I had
a loose connection after hearing garmer Zone riveting encounter near Ecult, Washington, so
as a planner, I used to drive there to help the town develop public
works grant applications. In twenty sixteen, I moved back to the west side
of the Cascade Mountains, this time in the backwoods of Washington, west of
Mount Saint Helens, a place rich with the recorded reports of sasquatch sightings.
My highway area is partially forested, but with open fields and scattered homes,
and I have always thought it likely that there were sisquatch frequenting this area.
Well. One night in the wee hours, I was sitting in my living
room watching a free YouTube movie. I was suddenly startled by an awful crashing
sound that shook my house. I could hear metal being bent and twisted,
and I thought something was happening with a vent to my kitchen range. There
was a noise so loud that it caused me to envision my kitchen cabinets falling
off the wall. I checked around my house and I found nothing but a
mirror that had come loose, and it had not broken. I decided that
multiple tree limbs must have landed on my roof, and I planned to check
the damage the next morning. I'm seventy four years old and my vision is
poor, so I phoned a neighbor and she came over to check the roof
with me, but she saw no fallen limbs. But what I did find
was that the decorative little wash basin I keep filled with large seashells had five
of them removed and arranged in a perfect semi circle. I asked the neighbor
if anyone had reported strange goings on recently. Apparently, an elderly woman to
the east to my house was awakened the night before by something repeatedly hitting the
backwall o her house. I decided that I would camp out in my utility
room with the back door propped open and see if my unruly visitor return.
Well that night. It was cold and uncomfortable and scary, so I gave
up after about an hour. A few mornings later, however, shells were
being removed from the tub and arranged in a semicircle again. The shells became
a running theme, ending up in various places around my home, arranged in
the same similar pattern. I wondered if my Sasquatch friend had a flare for
decorating. Perhaps it was meant as something sinister, a calling card for future
violence. The fall rains have arrived and it's been quiet. I really do
not want to be face to face with a sasquatch. Us indigenous tribes believe
there's strong evidence it shows the cryptid to be a human hybrid and not an
animal, and as such I will likely be looking over my shoulder as a
garden in the spring