Bigfoot Classified contains content that is graphic in nature, and listener discretion is advised.
Bigfoot Classified relies largely on news documents, eyewitness accounts, press conferences,
and interviews. Every episode is produced with respect the victims, families, and
communities involved. Some of the interviews, quotes, and broadcasts have been recreated.
Numerous hours of research have been done regarding these stories, and if you
have a theory question or feel that we've missed something, we encourage you to
visit Bigfoot classified dot com. This is Bigfoot Classified. For countless generations,
the soup Piac people of the namwalik And program region have whispered tales passed on
through generations of a captivating, an elusive entity known as not to Knock,
whose presence is said to dwell within the impenetrable thickets of the southern Kenai Peninsula,
particularly the Portlock area. Passed down like folklore, these stories speak of
a towering creature reminiscent of Bigfoot, renowned for its remarkable strength and uprooting trees,
and its ability to produce knocking sounds that echo through the wilderness, and
the terrifying occurrences of individuals vanishing without a trace in its presence. While the
tales have stood the passage of time, the town of Portlocks it's empty,
with the last of the residents fleeing during the nineteen forties. This is the
story of the Portlock Bigfoot. Nathaniel Portlock is believed to have been born around
seventeen forty eight in Norfolk, Virginia, and hailed from a family with acestrel
ties to the English Southwest dating back to his grandfather's immigration around sixteen eighty five.
Tragically, Nathaniel's father passed away in seventeen fifty two, leaving behind his
wife, Rebecca previously known as Rebecca Valley, who had a daughter from a
previous marriage. Following the death of Portlock's father, Rebecca quickly remarried for the
third time to a man named Richard Scott, who became the guardian of her
three surviving Portlock children and had additional children with her. At approximately twenty four
years old, Nathaniel Portlock joined the British Royal Navy forcibly recruited from the Merchant
Marines. Nathaniel and his brother quickly aligned themselves with the loyalist colonists in America,
commonly known as American loyalist. He later departed the country following the conclusion
of the War of Independence. On March seventeen seventy six, Portlock began serving
as a master's mate on the Discovery captain by James Cook. During Cook's third
and final Pacific voyage. In May seventeen eighty five, Nathaniel Portlock and George
Dixon, originally from Cumberland and a former armorer, embarked on an expedition under
the banner of the King George Sound Company. This venture aimed to capitalize on
the lucrative sea otter fur trade, which had been identified during Captain James Cook's
third voyage, when Cook's crew sold pelts on their return journey to Britain.
Equipped with two ships, the three hundred twenty ton King George and the two
hundred ton Queen Charlotte, the expedition set sail from Britain in September seventeen eighty
five. Both vessels had crew members who had sailed with Cook during his third
voyage, bringing valuable experience in navigating the North Pacific. It has been suggested
that the choice of royal names for the ships might indicate some form of government
approval, although the expedition possessed a five year license from the South Sea Company
and relied on its authority when engaging with other traders they encountered, including John
Mears. Additionally, the expedition benefited from the meticulous record keeping of William Beresford,
who documented the voyage in detail. At the Cape of Good Hope.
Captain John Gore released Portlock from the resolution towards the end of Cook's journey.
Copies of the ship's journals and the news of Cook's passing were carried by Portlock
as she sailed ahead and the HMS Portlock was given his lieutenant's commission in September
of seventeen eighty Departing Britain in September seventeen eighty five, the expedition sailed down
the Atlantic, making stops in Madeira and Cape Verde Islands before reaching the Falkland
Islands in January of seventeen eighty six. After spending sixteen days in Port Egmont,
they rounded Cape Horn and ventured north along the Pacific coast. On May
twenty fourth, they arrived off Hawaii near the kaya Laikakua Bay, where Cook
tragically lost his life in seventeen seventy nine, seeking fresh provisions to combat scurvy
which had afflicted the crew, Portlock hesitated to land due to the uncertainty about
the reception from Kameahmea, the island's overall chief. Consequently, he decided to
bypass Malakai and nearly encountered the French explorer La Perouse, who had just arrived
at Maui. Eventually, Portlock anchored at to Manlua Bay on the south coast
of Oahu, with the eastern end of the bay now known as Portlock.
Some of his men rode westward, catching a glimpse of Pearl Harbor's entrance beyond
Wakiki. From there, the expedition made its way to Waimia in Kawaii,
where they obtained supplies of yams and pigs. They then proceeded to Kneehow,
renowned for its abundance of these resources. Departing the Hawaiian Islands on June thirteenth,
King George and Queen Charlotte set their course for Alaska. Here, Nathaniel
and his crew stumbled upon what would later be Port Lock. The area had
been inhabited for centuries by the Alayu community, who were divided between the US
state of Alaska and the Russian Administrative division of Kumkachi Krai. The Aliute are
indigenous to the islands and the western part of Alaska Peninsula in present day Alaska.
Picture of land of rugged coastlines, towering volcanoes, and a maritime climate
that has shaped the lives of these resilient individuals for centuries. For the Alau
people, the ocean has always been their lifeline. They were skilled hunters,
fishermen, and gatherers with an intimate connection to the sea. Their survival dependent
on the abundant resources found in the waters surrounding their homeland. Seals, sea
otters, and other marine mammals provided them with not only sustenance, but also
materials for clothing, tools, and crafts. Their cultural heritage is a tapestry
of artistry and craftsmanship, from intricately woven baskets to beautifully carved ivory and wood.
The Alloyou people expressed their creativity through various mediums. Their distinctive parkers,
adorned with sea otter fur, are a testament to the mastery of their environment.
The Alloute society thrived through close knit communities and complex social structures. Kinship
systems played a significant role in their organization, with extended family networks forming the
backbone of their communities. After Nathaniel left, the small settlement, Portlock continued
to thrive and was later named after the commander. Settlers discovered an abundance of
salmon in the bay and exploited the catch long enough to establish a successful cannery
operation, working with the natives to share resources. This attracted seasonal workers and
brought economic prosperity to the community. Soon enough, by the turn of the
nineteen hundreds, the community was thriving, but this is when things started to
go horribly wrong. In nineteen oh five, Indigenous Allute fishermen working during salmon
season began claiming they were being harassed at night by a large animal. A
cannery supervisor would note how the men quit their jobs over the hairy man bothering
them and refused to come back to work. The Aute workers began speculating that
the hairy man was nothing less than the angered ninety knock, directly translating to
big hairy man in the Alloute Natives language. The ninety knock was described as
an evil sasquatch like creature. Covered in hair and walking on two legs,
who wanted them to leave the settlement, angered that humans had destroyed his habitat.
After months of back and forth and ceased operations at the cannery, eventually
supervisors were able to negotiate with the alleutes for better pay, and the indigenous
workers returned the next season. However, whispers of a mysterious creature they called
the ninety nine remained. In nineteen twenty, a group of bow hunters made
a disturbing discovery on the banks of the Yukon River. The group were out
hunting when they stumbled upon a houseboat that had drifted down streaming become stuck.
Going over to see what they could do to help, they quickly noticed the
boat was covered in what looked like blood. Fearing the worst, they hid
it inside, armed and ready for whatever had made the mess to strike.
Inside the boat, they found the owner, Albert Petka, covered in his
own blood and nearing death. Despite his injuries, Albert was able to tell
the bow hunters what had happened to him. Between gasp He told them in
how the night before he was inside the boat when he heard howling nearby,
going out to investigate, Albert armed himself with a rifle and stirred his dogs
to come along with him, searching the darkness for the source of the noise.
Within minutes, he found himself face to face with a terrifying creature,
standing at seven feet tall and covered in fur. The creature shrieked at him
as he approached, and Albert raised his rifle to strike at the beast.
Within the blink of an eye, the creature attacked him, battling his rifle
away with ease and lashing out at Albert, penning him against his boat.
The dogs managed to scare the creature off, but the damage was done.
Albert lay for hours, slowly dying, until the group came across him and
rushed him to a nearby doctor. Sadly, Albert would die from his injuries,
and a doctor would later a note that he could not attribute any animal
or human known to man for being responsible for causing such catastrophic injuries, and
from there fear of the nineteen knock began to grow. Months after Albert's death
came a rise in miners and hunters going missing from the Portlock area. Bodies
would be discovered in the creek or strown in the woods, with authorities having
no idea who or what was causing the casualties, serial killer encrypted well,
the locals had already decided they were being plagued by an angry nineteen knock.
By nineteen thirty one, deaths were already at an all time high when Longer
Andrew Camlock was found dead in the woods. Andrew and his extended family had
lived in Portlock, with the longer preferring solitude out in the wilderness. One
day after Andrew failed to return home, a search party was sent out,
and after scouring the dense wilderness, they came across him, face down in
the with the back of his head completely shattered, close by a large piece
of logging equipment covered in blood. Initially a thirties work to peddle the story
of a logging incident gone wrong, but the community knew better. Andrew was
known for his safety precautions and had been on the job long enough to not
make mistakes like this. His family argued that if an accident had happened involving
the logging machine, Andrew would have been found next to it. Instead,
he was over fifteen feet away with injuries that would have killed him. Instantly,
How was Andrew so far from the machinery if he had simply fallen foul
of his bad planning. The distance between the body and the equipment strongly indicated
that the machinery had been deliberately wielded to brutally strike his head before being cast
aside. The sheer weight and size of the equipment required the strength of three
to four men to lift and move it. So who or what killed him?
In one incident, Thomas Wyene Larson, who moved to Portlock in nineteen
twenty five to work on the mines, came face to face with the beast
as the creature destroyed fish wheels on the beach. Tall standing on two feet
and covered in hair, the creatures stared down the miner, daring him to
strike, as Larson mustered up the carriage to raise his weapon, But just
as he was about to strike, an overwhelming force came over him, telling
him not to kill the beast. Powerless to stop himself, he lowered his
weapon and walked away, spending the years up until his nineteen ninety four death
questioning what had compelled him to spare the creature that had terrorized his town With
instances continuing to ramp up. Town settlers felt like they were being picked off
one by one. Cannery workers would go out in groups, never to return,
and only for their mutilated bodies to turn up months later. Hunters began
tracking the beast and found footprints that resembled humans, the difference being this one
was eighteen inches long, stretching out into the dense forest. The hunters attempted
to find where the beasts sheltered, but the prince eventually trailed off and the
deaths only continued. During a search operation, a hunting party stumbled upon a
disfigured corpse of a missing hunter in a creek. The injuries inflicted on the
body were not typical of a bear attack, raising suspicions of a different culprit.
Similar gruesome discoveries unfolded as bodies cascaded down from the mountains into a nearby
lagoon or washed up on the shores of poor Chat, bearing unmistakable signs of
being torn apart by an extraordinary, powerful creature. The alarming frequency of deaths
and disappearances sent waves of unease through the local community. The lagoon became a
haunting spectacle, with lifeless body surface on a regular basis, causing residents to
retreat indoors, gripped by fear of the eerie forest that surrounded them. These
unsettling events coincided with a surge in sightings of towering, hairy beings and shadow
entities. Settlers referred to these creatures as mountain apes, hairy men, or
devils, while the indigenous population identified them as the ninety nine. These entities
became synonymous with the area's atmosphere of strangeness and death. As the incidents intensified,
a mass exodus from Port Lock ensued. In the late nineteen forties.
Settlers and natives combined all fled the area, searching for safety in neighboring towns.
Homes were abandoned, with personal effects left untouched for decades. One by
one, families picked up and left, and by the close of the nineteen
fifties, the post office, one of the last remaining hints of civilization,
closed, with the postmaster fleeing his post. By nineteen fifty one, the
town stood desolate and forsaken, leaving behind structures, equipment, and even an
abandoned cannery. The god daughter of Andrew Camlock and the local elder from Nawallack,
Milania. Helen Kell gave an insightful interview that was published in the Homer
Tributes October two thousand and nine issue. She gave light on the causes of
the village's disappearances because she was born there in nineteen thirty four. According to
her, her parents and the other villagers were wary of experiencing the dread brought
on by a creature known as the ninety nine, which translates to half man,
half beast. Numerous locals eventually came to the point of refusing to go
into the nearby woodlands, and over time they left their homes, the local
school, and moved up the coast to Port Graham. Though Portlock now stood
abandoned, that didn't stop tales of strange encounters from the area emanating. In
nineteen sixty eight, a hunter who was in search of goats claimed to have
been pursued by a mysterious creature while out in the hunting grounds. Another incident
occurred in nineteen seventy three, when three hunters sought refuge in the same area
during a severe three day storm. They reported that each night something circled their
tent, producing the distinct sound of walking on two feet. Fast forward to
nineteen ninety, when the Anchorage paramedic was called to provide medical assistance to a
seventy year old Native individual who had suffered a heart attack while incarcerated in the
Eagle River Jail. During the treatment, the paramedic mentioned previous hunting experiences near
Portlock. To the paramedic surprise, the elderly man abruptly sat up, grasped
the medic shirt, and urgently inquired, did it bother you? Did you
see it? The paramedic ed later shared his encounter on the Bigfoot Encounter's website,
documenting this intriguing interaction. I don't belong to any UFOL group or anything
like that, but this actually happened to me. I've told a few trusted
friends about it, but never bothered to write it down, So I'll try
to relate it as accurately as memory allows. In ninety ninety, while I
was working as a paramedic in Anchorage, we got called out on an alarm
for a man having a heart attack at the state jail in Eagle River.
He was a Native man in his seventies, and after I got him stabilized
with IVS, O two and cardiac drugs. My partner and I began to
transport him to the Native hospital in Anchorage. En route to the hospital,
I had time to talk to this gentleman, who was a Elliott from the
Native village of Port Graham, a remote village on the lower end of cook
Inlet. Well, as usual with me, the topic eventually drifted to hunting
and fishing, and I casually mentioned to him that I and two other hunting
buddies were once weathered in at the Upper Lagoon at Dogfish Bay, only a
few miles from his home in Port Graham. The lagoon was about as beautiful
and wild a place as I ever seen in my thirty five years in Alaska.
Well, when I said that I had spent some time in Dogfish the
salt Man sat up on the gurney and grabbed me by the front of my
shirt. He got right up to my face and said, did it bother
you? Well, with that question, the hair just stood up on the
back of my head. I said yes, did you see it? Was
his next question. I said, no, did you see it? He
said no, but my brothers seen it. It chased him. A salt
Elliott and I were talking about the same thing. But we never mentioned the
word bigfoot or legend or anything like that. But we both knew what we
were talking about. You see, in August of nineteen seventy three, three
of us were bow hunting for goats and blackies and what was then the remote
wilderness of Lower cook Inlet when a storm forced us to take shelter in Darkfish
Bay Lagoon. We beached our skiff and let the tie run her dry.
After a dinner of broiled salmon, we turned into our tent. Back in
those days, the best tent I had was a dark green canvas job with
a center pole and no windows or floor. We left the fire burning and
cleaned the pots and pans so as not to attract bears during the night,
and turned in. The sky was clear, but the wind was howling through
the old growth timber that lined ashore. Sometimes around two AM, my friend
Dennis woke me up by squeezing my leg and I could dimly see his face
in the tent. His finger was across his lips. I listened. Then
I heard it a step. A man was quietly walking outside of our tent,
taking very deliberate steps. Not a bear. Scenes from the movie Deliverance
flashed through my mind. So we woke Joe, the third member of our
party, with the same leg grab and finger to the lips. The walking,
or rather the sneaking, continued until it half circled our tent, and
then all was quiet except for the wind. We had our bows and the
O six leaning against the tree outside of the tent, so somehow we talked
Joe into belly crawling out the tent to get the rifle. We were scared
shitless, I tell you. The next day and night, the storm continued
to blow. We saw several black bears on the salmon stream at the end
of the lagoon during the evening hunt, but had no chance for a shot.
We didn't talk about what had happened last night, too embarrassed, I
guess, to be scared by a black bear that sounded like a man.
We got back to camp early, built a big fire, sat around it,
and ate dinner until around midnight in August. There were still some light
in the sky until about ten or eleven. I recall that we all were
embarrassed about being afraid about the coming night. We had a flashlight and a
rifle and the tent between us locked and loaded. I finally dozed off,
but woke right up when Dennis squeezed my leg. The illuminated hands of my
watch showed it was two thirty. Joe was already sitting up and had a
rifle in hand. I heard the first step not more than about ten feet
from the back of the tent, slowly, then another and another. Whatever
this was, it sounded like it was walking on two feet. It made
the same semicircle around the tent. When we finally got enough courage to crawl
out of the tent and turned the flashlight on, we saw nothing, no
tracks, nothing. The third night, we've decided if it bothered us again,
we would come out of the tent shooting. We were actually scared.
It never came back the third night, and the following day we had a
break in the weather and got the heck out of there. Never told anybody
about the experience for several years until about nineteen seventy nine, when I happened
to be reading an old Alaska Sportsman magazine published in nineteen thirty five. In
the letters to the editor, a woman wrote that she recently found a letter
written by some distant relative of hers who was a schoolteacher at a canary in
Portlock Bay, a rugged ford adjacent to Dogfish Bay. The year was nineteen
o five. She quoted from the letter. It said that the Canary employed
a small group of alliots from a small village in Portlock Bay during salmon's season.
Their camp was about a mile away from the canary buildings. One day,
all the alliots moved out of the village and paddled there by darkness back
to Port Graham. The letter said that the alliots claimed that a hairy man
was bothering and frightening them to the point where they had to leave. I
have since done some research into the subject and found written histories of natives from
Sildovia to Port Graham being frightened and bothered by something. They even have a
native name for it. It doesn't translate into English very well. These accounts
mostly take place during the first half of the nineteen hundreds and a native related,
but not all. I talked to one white guy who in nineteen sixty
eight got the bejeebers scared out of him while coming down an all their choked
gully while on a goat hunt in Port Clark, Alaska. Most of These
accounts proceed the big foot hype that began to appear in the sixties and seventies
in the Northwest. Well, anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to
it. Native American cultures have a long history of creating hybrid creatures that are
equal parts and human. The Allute people sincerely believed that, in the instance
of the ninety knock, this monster was once an ordinary human who sadly underwent
a hideous transformation that were cruel curse wrought by dark spirits. The evil being
is not the only unexplained occurrence connected to the Kenai Peninsula's wind battered cliffs.
The Allute tribe also tells tales of a vengeful spirit and a young woman who
was attacked and killed by an unidentified assailant. Returning hunters would tell stories of
meetings with a pale faced woman with flowing black hair who tried to trap them
with see hands and drag them into the grasp of death. With new technology
and a thirst for answers, in twenty twenty one, and expedition took place
in the abandoned towns, with searchers hoping to catch a sight of the ninety
nine when modern myths meet native folklore, what did they discover that sent searchers
fleeing? In Part two, we will explore the recent events surrounding Portlock,
including the infamous Alaskan Bigfoot Killer expedition, as well as sightings out of town.
This is Bigfoot classify as the Boy