Speaker 1: In nineteen ninety four, my husband was employed by a
drilling company based in Kalmauth Falls, Oregon. He traveled quite
a bit around the country, taking natural gas and water
samples from various wells. He worked with a crew of
three other men, and their schedule consisted of twenty three
days on the job followed by ten days off. The
four would pocket their per diems money that the company
offered as an allowance for expenses, and sneak aboard the
freight trains to and from drilling sites. Their favorite spot
was near a California town called Portola. As the train
would begin to slow crawl up the mountain, they would
jump off by a ranger station. The crew would unpack
their camping gear and proceed to enjoy the next ten
days of freedom, fishing and hunting and enjoying the isolated
beauty of the forest in its nearby waterfall. It was
a great place to be at one with nature before
heading back to the rough and tumbled reality of their
drilling jobs. My husband and his crew were tough men,
seizing veterans of the outdoors. They didn't fear anything because
they all shared a mutual respect and understanding of their surroundings.
But on this particular day, however, something would happen that
would shake them into their core. My husband was the
first one up at the campsite that morning, while the
others barely stirred in their sleeping bags. He grabbed some
clean clothes and shampoo, and then made his way the
three hundred yards to the waterfall. It was perfect for bathing.
The basin at the foot of the falling water measured
thirty square feet and was enclosed by twenty five feet
of rock, like four sides of a wall. One of
the crew members, a mountainous man who dwarfed the rest
of them at six foot four inches. He measured the
depth of the pool by walking out to the middle
of it until he was totally submerged, his bare feet
sunk into the black sediment while his outstretched arms and
fingertips extended just above the water's surface, So the pool
had to be at least nine feet deep. My husband
slipped into the basin and had just lathered his hair
with shampoo when he heard an enormous splash and he
felt the water ripple around him. His eyes blinded by
the soap, he assumed one of the crew had just
joined him, and when suddenly he heard someone screaming his
name in utter terror, he rinsed the soap from his
eyes quickly, and he spotted his mountainous crew, remember yelling
from the bank and pointing while my husband spun around
and came face to face with something grotesque and horrific.
It wasn't a human. The water came up to its
hairy chest and its head resembled a cross between a
gorilla and a cave man let out a roar, and
my husband saw the beast's enormous incisors. Before he could react,
it raised its brawny arms over its head and brought
them down into the water, and the resulting wave, knocking
my husband backward. Were disoriented. My husband had swallowed a
mouthful of water and fought to gain his breath. By now,
his crew had joined their mountainous coal worker on the bank,
throwing rocks at this enormous man thing as it crawled
from the pool. They watched it walk through a sixteen
foot steel cable clothesline they had erected outside the camp.
The thing pulled at it in anger, snapping it like
sewing thread and dragging the remains into the woods. The
panic crew made their way to the ranger station to
report the incident. They estimated the creature had to be
at least ten feet tall with four foot arms. Its
teeth were as long as kitchen knives. The range took
statements from the four men. He questioned their lack of transportation,
and my husband had to confess that they were illegal
stowaways who had snuck aboard of the train. Well. The
ranger considered their story and explained to them that the
government was well aware of a manlike species existing in
the area. He further warned the men that these beings
were under government protection and should they dare return or
share their experience with the public, the full weight of
the government would be brought to bear against the men
and their families. My husband and the others looked at
each other. What they had just witnessed was scary, but
taking on the American government was something else. Entirely, they
took the highway back. This took place just outside the
small town of Catawa, North Carolina, in September of nineteen ninety,
where I lived with my three sibl wings and my
sixty eight year old foster mother, Doris. I was the
oldest child being nine, with my sisters being eight and five,
and my brother was only six months old. We lived
in a single wide trailer that was almost completely surrounded
by woods and were connected to civilization by a rarely
used dirt road. When I say completely surrounded, behind us
was woods, to our right was woods with a gully
that ran thirty to forty feet deep, and across the
dirt road was more woods. The only non wooded area
was to our left, where there was a strip of
trees with two fields just past them, which ironically enough,
were surrounded by woods. Seeing as how Doris only allowed
us to watch Nature, Nova and the smothers brothers, we
spent almost all of our free time playing and exploring outside.
I was used to most of the sights, sounds, and
smells that surrounded us outside, but a few did throw
me off. Almost daily, I heard whoops and hollers that
sounded just like howler monkeys or siamings. I had recently
watched a Nature or Nova episode devoted to these monkeys,
which I didn't think was right because none of those
lived in the United States. Those calls always came from
either behind our trailer or to the right of it
usually from a pretty decent distance. The woods behind the
house was one of the few areas I never extensively explored.
Every time I stepped into the tree line, I got
this overwhelming feeling that something didn't want me there. I
didn't feel scared so much as sternly warned. However, on
one occasion, I made it about twenty feet into the
trees before getting that feeling that before I turned around,
I noticed three or four decent sized saplings about ten
or twelve feet tall, bent over and worked into one another,
as if someone had tried to make a crude shelter.
I finally got the hint and left those woods and
never went back in. And on maybe three or four
more occasions, I remember waking up in the middle of
the night to the overwhelming odor of what smelled like
a wet dog wafting through my partially open window. It
was summer and Doris was trying to save money by
opening windows versus using the air conditioner. It would only
last a few moments before the smell seemed to dissipate.
Whenever I would experience any of this, I just kind
of brushed it off. I was going through a lot
at the time in foster care and trying my best
to make sure my siblings were taken care of. My
mother made me a promise to look after them, so
I didn't think too much about anything else. I had
never heard of anything in my young wife about bigfoot,
so I just assumed that the noises were from birds
that I had never learned, the names of the smells
were from animals pooping close to the house or my
brother's diaper, and that the whole woods behind the trailer
ordeal was me being a scaredy cat. All of that
changed in late September of nineteen ninety. We were all
from school for a teacher work day and we had
decided that we were going to go about a quarter
of a mile down the road and try our hand
at climbing this clay embankment that was especially challenging. Doris
wasn't fond of the mess we would make of ourselves,
but since we were wearing our well worn play clothes,
she let us go. So I went with my two
sisters down to the clay embankment, and when I got there,
I stopped. When my oldest sister asked me what was wrong,
I pointed to the two bare footprints that led us
up the embankment. They were about thirteen inches long and
about five inches wide. The only reason I remember this
is because we had just finished working on this art
project in school, and I had made it a point
to measure my hand. Thumb tip to the tip of
my middle finger was five inches. I was confused, first
of all by the fact that someone had seemed to
climb this really steep embankment barefoot, and secondly by the
fact that they had apparently had done it in two steps.
I looked up the embankment and tried to figure out
which way it had gone. I looked left and saw
nothing unusual. But when I looked right, I saw something
that boggled my mind. About seventy five yards away, I
saw what looked like a weird, oversized gorilla walking on
two legs across the road. It had taken one step
into the middle of the road, and as it went
to take the second step, it turned at the hips
and looked at us. It didn't slow down or make
a sound. The second step put it on the other
side of the road, and then it descended down into
the gully. The entire encounter from my discovery of the
footprints to the creature disappearing from view lasted maybe fifteen seconds.
After that, I made my sister's run back to the
trailer and I was right behind them. I told Doris
about it, but she laughed at me and said I
had a really great imagination. I didn't learn anything about
what Bigfoot was, not even the name, until we went
to our local library a few weeks later and I
saw a book with a Bigfoot face on the cover.
I knew instantly that that was what I had seen,
and since then I have spent the next twenty nine
years researching and listening to other people's encounters. I've traveled
around the entire lower forty eight states and through five
time zones of Canada from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast,
offer hiking and photography. I have visited all the big cities,
but most of the time I'm in one of the
national parks or state parks or national monuments. Recently, during
the winter, my daughter and I headed to Florida for
a week or two. The highlight for us was Key West.
We spent a couple of days in the Keys, and
after getting our fill of beautiful sunsets, we headed back
to the mainland. We reached US forty one through the
Everglades around midnight, and we found a water pump station
and we parked under the light pole to kill some
time and rest up. After a while, a police car
pulled into the station. I assumed it wanted us and
everyone else out, so I started the car again and
I pulled onto the road heading west. We wanted to
be at Sharp Valley entrance to the Everglades National Park
by sunrise so we could spend the day hiking, and
our plan was to pass the entrance and find a
safe place to park for a few hours. We drove
past Monroe Station and found a picnic area and we parked.
The moon was an upside down crescent sitting far in
the east of a black sky full of stars, and
after just a few minutes I saw a shooting star.
And my daughter had fallen asleep by then, and as
I scanned the sky looking for more action in the distance,
I saw a light coming our way. I thought it
may have been a lightning bug, since in Florida insects
seem a lot bigger than back home in New Jersey.
But as I watched it get closer, I realized it
wasn't a lightning bug at all. It was the eye
of a ten foot tall monster. It was blazing evil
a giant lemon, and sticking out from the head of
a beast. I fumbled to reach for the headlights, but
my better senses told me not to let this thing
know I was there. It moved like it was on
roller skates, without the slightest bounce in its step, and
it was so big that it would have had to
have stooped down to look an elephant in the eye,
and it could have ripped the roof off my car
and plucked us like eggs from a basket. But instead
it disappeared into the darkness to the east, and I
could tell it was on a mission, and I was
relieved it didn't involve me and my daughter. At that point,
I didn't care about getting any sleep, so I started
the car and drove it to the exit and got
straight out of there. When morning came, we headed back
to the Everglades National Park, and when we passed through
Monroe Station again, we saw signs that said don't feed
the Bigfoot. I have repeatedly heard that Bigfoot has red eyes,
but the eyes of the creature I saw were blazing
fluorescat yellow without any pupils. I'm sure it could see
in the dark and must have known my daughter and
I were there. I believe it was a dog man,
and I told my daughter about it the next morning,
and to this day, I'm ridden with guilt that I
endangered her life by not getting out of there sooner.
It had the chance to confront us, but for some
reason it chose not to. We were lucky it didn't
come back with a friend and to pick up the
car and carry us away to never be seen again. Wow,
that's another Florida, Florida's story, I said. When I first
started it, it was labeled a dog Man's story and
the sign said don't fit feed Bigfoot. This is in
Florida Monroe Station Everglades National Park. I guess this guy
saw a dog man. I wonder if he saw any
more detail other than the shape, because it was dark
and there was a crescent man, there wasn't a full moon,
and it had big glowing eyes. Man man, That is cool,
cool story. Thank you to the writer. I hope you
guys have gotten over that episode and they're continuing to
hike and did you say you do Yeah, hiking in photography.
He's a photographer, so I hope you're still into that.
I really do, and again I appreciate the story, sir.
I'm an ex park ranger, an avid outdoor enthusiast, and
an experienced camper, hiker, and kayaker. I've spent countless days
and nights working in and exploring state national parks all
over the country, and particularly in my home state of Florida,
where we have a variety of wildlife. I also have
several years of experience with wildlife rehabilitation and an understanding
of wildlife behaviors. I'm no stranger to a variety of
noises in the outdoors at all times of day and night.
I enjoy camping with others, and I often pursue solo
camping adventures so I can hone my photography skills and
HI can explore where and when I want and travel
as faster as far as I like, without being slowed
by someone else or expecting them to adhere to my schedule.
A lone time on an outdoor adventure also helps me
tune in to nature and get closer to wildlife without
disturbing them, and enable them to get closer to me,
and it allows me to get better photography opportunities. As
a middle aged woman, I'm well aware of safety concerns
while on my adventures, and I have a good sixth
sense or radar as my dad used to call it,
an invaluable skill, especially as a solo adventurist. I've had
a few alarming close calls out there over the years,
and I can say with certainty that I am much
more wary of humans than wildlife. I know what wild
animals are up to and why, but humans not so much.
I have a concealed weapons license, and I bring a
handgun on camping trips, as well as pepper spray, bear spray,
a whistle, several knives, and even an air horn. Having
said that, I don't get spooked easily. I'm simply a practical,
realistic person in a sometimes dangerous world. The experience I'm
about to share with you, I don't think I'll ever
be able to forget, let alone fully comprehend. It's not
the scariest or strangest thing ever, but unforgettable. Nonetheless, everyone
I recount this story to says the same thing. They
agree it's bizarre and can offer no reasonable explanation. In
the spring of twenty seventeen, I arrived at Manatee Spring
State Park, located west of Gainesville near the Gulf Coast
of Florida, around noon and felt fortunate to book the
last remaining of a site for the night. I set
up my tent and placed a tablecloth over the picnic table,
as well as several items such as a water jug, lantern,
park information and other items. My site was adjacent to
a trail that leads to the spring head, where the
concessions stand and picnic pavilions and entry to the spring
run are located. The springhead and day use area are
popular for swimmers and divers and paddlers and picnicers, and
they are opened during daylight hours only. I was eager
to explore all this gorgeous park has to offer, and
as I was standing next to my picnic table studying
the trail map, I had an intense sensation that I
was being watched. I looked up to see a tall, thin,
pale young man he was maybe twenty years old, walking
past my site on the trail from the spring into
the campground. He was looking over directly at me with
a wide, knowing grin, as if he was far too
interested in me, and he was continually nodding his head
at me as he walked past. He never stopped that
smirk and head nodding even after he saw that I
saw him looking at me, and his eyes never left
mine as he walked past. Neither of us said a
word to the other. Puzzled and kind of weired it out,
I watched him continue on further into the campground, where
I could only assume that he was also camping. It
kind of gave me the creeps, because nothing about my clothes, demeanor,
or actions would have elicited interest or attention from anyone
in any way, especially a young man less than half
my age while minding my own business in my own campsite.
I wrote him off as a weirdo, and I pushed
it to the back of my mind while I continued
planning my adventures for the rest of the day. I
gathered my cameras and hiking gear, and I headed down
the trail to the spring head. When I was taking
photos and enjoying the wildlife and the crystalline blue waters
and majestic old oaks and cypress trees. After exploring some
hiking trails for a few hours. I headed back up
the spring trail to my campsite and I ate a
quick dinner, and I looked through the photos and videos
and began planning the next day's adventure. To my relief,
I did not see the strange acting young man again.
Everything seemed peaceful and normal in the campground, or so
I thought. At sunset, I noticed the thick fog settling in.
During normal daytime visibility, I could easily see the bath
house and many other nearby campers even way across the loop.
But I soon realized how dramatically that was changing. Darkness
descended quickly in an every quiet envelope the campground, along
with a dense fog, and suddenly I remembered the young
man from earlier, and I got a creepy sensation. So
I decided I'd feel safer if I slept in my
lock truck cab instead of my tent. I certainly did
not want any unexpected surprises at my tent during this
dark and foggy night, And after a while I got
comfortable leaning back in the driver's seat and I hoped
for a peaceful night sleep. Although I was admittedly concerned
with the lack of visibility in those conditions, I cracked
the side windows a little for ventilation so that I
could at least hear outside, because I truly could not
see anything. It was so black outside and the fog
was the thickest I had ever encountered in my life.
I strained to see something, anything out my windshield or
back or side windows, but it was impossible. I could
not even see the huge light over the bathhouse. I've
never experienced such a sense of nowareness. It was like
I was all alone in the dark arc was a
silent cloud of nothingness, completely helpless and alone. It's possible
that I would have been able to fall asleep soon,
but the silence was permeated by the sound of distant
drums beating, reminiscent of some sort of native ritual. I
got a distinct feeling of being acutely aware of the
life giving spring and lands that were sacred to the
natives for thousands of years in this area. The sounds
never got very loud or close, but it sure seemed
like the drumming was coming from the Springhead area, which
I thought was really odd because the entire area of
the park is closed after dark, and it would be
impossible for anyone to even see to get down there anyway.
Lights are useless in this thick fog, And why would
anyone want to form a drumming circle or anything on
such a night like this? Were they the sounds of
native spirits from another realm? Things were getting really strange,
and I struggled to make a logical sense of any
of it. An hour passed when suddenly, as if things
weren't eerie enough, bam, my truck bed bounced so hard
that it shook my whole truck. Something fell in the
bed of my truck, but I couldn't see anything. All
I could see was thick, black, foggy nothingness, and my
brain raced for an explanation. Maybe it was a raccoon
or some other critter that had fallen out of a
tree in this thick darkness, But that was crazy. And besides,
I would have heard an animal scramble up and out
of my truck bed, right, but I heard nothing other
than the drumming. Besides, what animal would be that heavy
to bounce my truck so hard? Maybe a dead tree
branch fell. Does that mean there could be more, or
maybe that guy sneaked over here in the dark to
mess with me. Well, there's no way he could even
see to get over here in this thick, black fog.
I thought, maybe this, Maybe that nothing made any reasonable sense.
When logic doesn't suffice, what's a brain to do? And
I tried to comfort myself in all the confusion, and
I told myself I would probably find a decayed old
tree branch in the back of my truck in the morning, right,
it was a little consolation. Meanwhile, the drum beats continued
for a couple more hours in the eerie, foggy darkness,
and then they suddenly stopped, and there was nothing but
silence and fog and darkness for hours. I hoped I
would be safe inside here, and I never felt so
helpless and vulnerable in my life. I felt like bait.
I had no choice but to stay wide awake all
night with my senses on high alert. The thick fog
remained and I could not see anything outside of my
truck at all all night long, and the night seemed
very long. Indeed, the minutes and the hours dragged on. Finally,
after what seemed like an eternity, I noticed a slight
sign of daylight, but did not feel comfortable yet or
safe enough to open my door or dare to step
outside lest I inadvertently make myself vulnerable to whatever or
whoever might be out there. After several more minutes, I
began to notice the vague outline of nearby trees in
the bath house light. Finally, daylight was coming soon enough.
My curiosity got the best of me, and I slowly
and quietly opened my truck door, and I stepped outside,
and I scanned the area, and then I eagerly turned
to see what had fallen into the bed of my truck.
I had to know, well, there was nothing nothing, no branches,
no tree bark, no animal. There was nothing there. Everything
was exactly as I had left it. How could this be? Now?
Everything seemed even more bizarre, since there was no reasonable
explanation for the huge thud that made my truck bounce.
The fog soon lifted completely, and like magic, the daylight
and sunshine erased all mysterious and eerie sensations as if
they had never happened. Still totally perplexed and not knowing
what to make of anything, I packed my gear and
headed for my next destination. I guess I'll never get
any explanations, the creepy young guy, the ridiculously thick fog.
Unlike any I had ever seen the drums beating from
the springhead on such a dark, foggy night, or the
huge thud that shook my truck, but it sure felt
like I had suddenly been an unwitting guest in a
Hitchcock film for several hours. I continue to enjoy camping
adventures all over the country, but when I left that morning,
I swore that I would never return to that park alone.
Thanks for reading, and keep up the great work. My
friends call me Hook