Speaker 1: We live in Diego, South Korea. I'm sure, I'm one
hundred percent sure I'll pronounce that wrong, and I'm one
hundred percent sure I'm about to mispronounce the name of
this mountain. But let me start over. We live in Diego,
South Korea, on the side of a steep hill that
butts up to Apason Mountain. One day, I took Rileigh,
my golden retriever, out to the trails because she had
been inside for most of the day. A light snow
had fallen and the mountain was quiet. I headed up
the steep hillside under the road tunnel, and I walked
toward the trail. I think it makes a loop somewhere,
but I don't speak Korean, and every time I go,
I get lost, wandering in circles, never knowing which way
to go. On this day, that's what happened, and Riley
and I made it to the trailhead and pressed on
and started wandering. On every mountain in this country you
will see grandmothers blazing new trails off the main path
in search of mushrooms. That day I realized I had
gotten misdirected onto such a trail. The surrounding mountain side
looked a bit different than the normal loop I usually took,
but I knew where the landmarks were, so I kept walking.
Halfway into the hike, I heard footsteps approaching from behind me.
Normally there are a lot of other hikers on these trails,
so I called Riley over, hooked her leash on her,
and I stepped aside. When no one passed me, I
turned slightly to see an empty trail. I was puzzled,
but brushed it off and I kept going. I released
Riley again and she took off ahead of me. Fifteen
minutes later, I heard another round of footsteps coming up
behind me. I did the same thing. I hooked up
my dog and stood off to the side, and I
waited again. Nobody was behind me. Something didn't feel right.
I picked up my pace. I finally found a familiar
trail leading down the mountain toward the road, and Riley
and I made it home in one piece. I was
looking over my shoulder the entire way. South Korean mountains
are full of burial mountains. On other hikes, we have
walked past some that are visible just off the trail.
I'm not saying it was a spirit out for an
autumn stroll, but I know what I heard. My husband
and I love taking our children hiking. We also have
a YouTube channel it's called Trailheaded Ventures. We travel all
over South Korea discovering beautiful places to explore. On one
particular autumn day, not long after my previous experience, we
were two hours north from home and hiking a trail.
We found an old Chinese fort, which, like so many
others in South Korea, had a sad history. South Korea
has been invaded by neighboring countries for a long time,
the Japanese, the Chinese, and the North Koreans, all of
them wanting to take the country over. The fort we
found had an interesting setup. Stones the size of small
cars were stacked like legos, cut so precisely that each
one fit perfectly into the next. Further along the outside wall,
we found a stone arch leading inside that looked as
if it might collapse at any minute. The fort and
the area surrounding were completely silent, strangely silent, as if
noise could not penetrate the area. We hoped to walk
around the fort and uncover its secrets, but we found
a large metal sign forbidding us from going beyond a
certain point. In South Korea, SECTV cameras are everywhere, and
we didn't dare to push it. I was taking making
pictures of my children climbing and running around the fort,
making sure no one crossed the metal sign and got
us in trouble. The weather had gotten colder and the
area was feeling tighter and denser by the minute. My
husband looked at me and mentioned something felt off, and
we decided to head out later. At home, I was
looking at the pictures I had taken that day when
something caught my attention. In one of the pictures of
my children playing, I zoomed in and saw a small
face watching them from behind a jagged wall. The face
was anything but normal. It had big, dark eye sockets
and a weirdly shaped head. I couldn't comprehend what I
was seeing. Something was watching my children play. Nope, I
told myself, I'm never going back there. I've tried to
research Korean folklore, but unless it's a fire breathing dragon
or a goblin, it isn't mentioned. I'd rather see a
fire breathing dragon than an ugly face that was watching
me and my children. Thanks CAM for hearing my stories
from all the way across the sea. Enjoy some Southern
food for me. I miss it and she signs off. Haley,
she must be from somewhere down here in the South,
because we do have good food. Koreans have good food too.
I think there's a food that is popular called kimchi.
Had a body at that one time, and it's not
good food. It's really tart. It's like fermented cabbage, I
think is what it is. They love it. But what
a cool story from South Korea. I wonder why they
are there. I wonder the missionaries. Is her husband working there?
I'm not sure, but they do have a YouTube channel.
Let me find it again. I think it's called South Karina.
I'll find it. Hold on, hold on, I'll find it. Okay.
The channel is called trail Head Adventure. I'm gonna search
for it and try to find a link for it
and link it in the description, so you guys can
probably see a face for the person who wrote the story.
If you're interested in that, it'll be in the description.
Thanks Haley for sending this story. It was really creepy.
I loved it. I loved it. Thank you, ma'am. This
story is about a mystery creature or a bigfoot. I'm
not sure. I haven't read it yet, but we're gonna see.
And I'm I've got a cold. My chest is all congested,
and I'm having trouble, not having trouble breathing. But you know,
I get winded a little bit when I walk around.
When I walk over to the refrigerator to get a big,
blowny sandwich or a big bowl of ice cream, kind
of winds me. I get out of breath, have to
go sit down and eat it anyway. If my voice,
I hope my voice can hold out for these four
stories I'm trying to narrate. Here we go. It was
sometime in the early eighties in the far southern end
of Wee You Matt Valley in Oregon. I had been
raised there and I was in my late twenties at
the time. The entire local economy had been shut down
due to the tree huggers trying to save the not
really in danger spot at Owl, and I was out
of work. A person couldn't find a blank job application,
even if you asked politely with a big gun in
your hand. I would wake up in the middle of
the night worrying and I would go for a walk
while the kids slept clear my head. I lived in
a rural area, and I knew they'd be okay while
I was gone. One night, around two am, I was
heading back toward my house. The road home was narrow.
It's a two lane black top with no lines. It
followed the river bank on the right and on the
left was a farm. A farmhouse sat at the base
of the hill, and on the other side was my house.
At the top of the hill was a horse pasture.
I was walking past the farmhouse driveway when I heard
something in the book on the river bank. I figured
it was just a neighbor's cow dog, and I kept walking.
At the edge of the road was only a few
feet from where the ground dropped down to the river.
It was so steep that I had to grab roots
and branches to climb down it. The brush lining the
road was thick and taller than me, and there was
so much poison oak that it would have been impossible
to walk through it. There were fallen limbs from the
many maple trees and logs, and many years worth of
dead leaves on both sides of the trail, so in
addition to it being steep, it was an impassable obstacle. Course,
I could hear the dog following me through the brush
and the dry leaves, his feet crunching with each step.
I knew he wouldn't follow me far. I had known
him for years and he was well trained, But as
I walked he kept following me anyway. I soon realized
it really didn't sound like a dog. A dog would
drag his feet through the leaves, and that's not what
I was hearing. This was the sound of a foot
rising out of the leaves and then striking back down
to the ground again. I began running through a list
of suspects in my head. A deer wouldn't follow me.
A possum or a porcupine is short and wouldn't make
those types of footstounds. A mountain lion was a scary thought,
but I decided a mountain lion would be much quieter
even in the dry leaves. Besides, I was hearing two feet,
not four. There was no way it was a person,
because a person wouldn't be able to walk along on
the bank even in the daylight, much less in the dark.
And if it were a person, I wouldn't hear their
careful footsteps. I'd be hearing cussing and thrashing as they
tried to keep their footing and battle their way through
all the brush and debris. I began to experiment to
see if I could figure out what was following me.
I took a few fast steps, and it did two.
I went slow, and it did too. I ran a
little ways and it sped up with me, and when
I stopped, it stopped. I started counting my steps as
I buried my pace, and I realized that it was
even copying, that it was mimicking me step for step.
When that fact sank in, I can't describe the fear
I felt. I was nothing but fear on legs, and
I ran for my life like I had never before
or since. I could still hear it on the river bank,
following me, step for step, keeping pace, and it horrified me.
Ahead of me, there were big maple trees on each
side of the road, the limbs meeting above the road
and making a black tunnel, and I ran through them
with everything I had, praying that that thing would stay
on the bank and not follow me up the hill
to the pasture. I ran out from under the trees
and didn't hear it anymore, but I kept running until
home was in sight. On purpose, I let my feet
slap on the pavement as I ran down the slope,
warning my five big dogs to hear me. They all
came piling off the porch, barking viciously, and they ran
out onto the road toward me. I was so happy
to see them, and they recognized me, and they ran
with me to the house, and I opened the door
and we all went in. I thought I still might die.
My heart felt like it was bursting, and my lungs
were on fire. I locked the door and collapsed on
the couch and lived to tell the tale. In addition
to being terrifying, the whole thing was beyond weird. How
one could run on that steep bank, in that thick
brush and only make noise from their feet mystifies me.
And to this day, when I hear the story about
someone being followed, it gets my heart pumping. Studying away
right now, just remembering that night so long ago. I
enjoy listening to you read the encounters that people have had,
even the ones that scare me. It's helpful to me somehow. Well,
that's great. I'm glad. It's hell full and kind of
it connects you with other people who have had these
weird experiences. I get that. I hope you all enjoyed
the story this was. You know, we get so many
different types of stories, different types of encounters. It's so
interesting to me. I love this story. I appreciate the writer.
Thank you. Okay, here's another bigfoot story. It was back
in the spring of twenty twelve, way up in the
Anerondack Mountains of New York State. There was still a
little snow, but most of it had melted, leaving the
ground muddy. At that time, I traveled that stretch of
eighty seven a couple of times a day, so I
was more than familiar with the roadway. On this morning,
it was bright and sunny. The upper half of eighty seven,
which is near the Canadian border, is miles and miles
of dense forest. There are a few towns along the highway,
but there's rarely any traffic. I pulled my vehicle over
to the side of the road because a flock of
birds had relieved themselves on my window. I was about
to get out and clean it off, and I got
suddenly spooked. It was a clear day with no person
or wildlife around. So I scolded myself, knowing I was
just being silly. I'm not a very big woman, I'm
just five foot two. I took a deep breath and
stepped out of the vehicle and started at my driver's
side and cleaned all the way around to the passenger side,
making sure my windows were spotless. It was when I
got to the passenger side that things got weird. Where
I pulled over, the passenger side of my vehicle was
facing a sheer rock cliff. You can see these on
many highways where they had to dynamite the rock to
make way for the road. The cliff is roughly only
twenty five feet tall, short enough that I had a
clear view of the ledge into the trees. As I
was cleaning, rocks and snow began to slide down the cliff,
as if something were walking toward me on the ledge.
When I looked, there was nothing at all to see,
so I did my best to ignore it. The rock
and snow slides continued, each time getting closer to where
I was on the road. I began to shake uncontrollably.
I couldn't move if I wanted to, That's when a
fight or flight instinct came over me out of nowhere,
and I started making a ruckus. I screamed, and I
hooted and hollered, and I sang and flapped my arms,
just going crazy, following my instincts telling me to make
a scene and throw off whatever it was that was
approaching me. I'm just glad no one drove by, because
they probably would have had me locked up. I was acting. Bunkers,
the rocks and ice stopped sliding down the rock wall,
telling me whatever was up there had stopped its approach.
I looked at the ledge and I saw no trace
of anything living, and I started cleaning my windows again,
and as soon as I turned toward my vehicle, more
snow and more rocks slid down, and I was overcome
with the feeling of being hunted. I gave up on
the windows and I raced to my driver's store like
I was running for my life. My legs were shaking
so badly I could barely move. I jumped in my vehicle,
cranked over the engine, and sped out of there. As
I was approaching the highway to Merge, one hell of
a bang sounded through my vehicle. My head snapped toward
the passenger side rear view mirror, and I saw a
rock bigger than a softball skittering away. There weren't any
vehicles around me, and there wasn't anywhere for that rock
to have come from, aside from a rock cliff. Cats
and bears can't throw rocks last time I checked. Trees
can't either, So where the hell did that rock come from.
I kept the pedal to the floor until I came
to a welcome center. I pulled in, and I walked
around my vehicle to see if I had maybe kicked
the rock up from under my tires. But when I
saw the end dent on the back of the rolling door,
I realized there was no way my tires could have
done that. The center of the dent was a full
eight inches across and a good three inches deep, and
in its entirety wider than my ruler. I've been trying
to make sense of it since it happened, and then
I listened to some of the letters that you read,
and it made sense. I wouldn't say I'm a full
believer in Bigfoot because I try to rationalize everything, but
this is one of those things. Where I don't think
there is a rational explanation. Woo, you show, got that right?
A rock comes up out of nowhere. She hears all
the stuff's coming down the cliff. She knows it's something
walking around up there, shaking loose debris, making it fall
down on the highway, and then she pulls off. She
screeches off, and her big rock hits her car. What
else could it be unless there's some person up there.
But you know, probably couldn't throw a rock that far.
Only a bigfoit could do that. I'm with her. I
try to rationalize everything. I try to explain away everything,
but this, she says, this is one of those things.
I don't think there is a rational explanation. Maybe there is.
Maybe it was a bigfoot. Thank you so much to
the writer. What a great story. Oh, she wrote it
so well. It was just so easy to follow. And I, oh,
I just love the way you guys write. I really
appreciate you. Thank you for sending it. Ma'am little five
foot two. Hey, my wife shortering you. She's four eleven,
so she's not she's not as big. You're a monster
to her. Anyway. I thought that was funny. Okay, thanks
again for the story. Awesome story. Okay, and last we
have another Bigfoot story ninety percent bigfoot on this channel.
This is a good one. All four of these stories
that I've just randomly picked out from my list are
good in this podcast. I'm so lucky to get people
sending me these wonderful stories. So it wasn't for you all,
there wouldn't be a channel. So thank you to all
of you. But let's get on with this story. I
grew up on a cattle ranch in East Texas, where
I started my ten year pro rodeo career. My family
had hunting ranches in Texas hill country all my life.
I love camping, fishing, and hiking, and I'm an amateur
rock collector. I was a music teacher at a small
town school just outside of Kerrville, Texas, and I was
renting a beautiful house nestled on twenty six acres of
hill country. I would spend most of my paycheck on
feed for the forty plus white tails, foxes, and raccoons,
and a couple of ornery wild donkeys. They ate all
around the front of my cabin. It was a dream
and the place was loaded with fossils and I spent
most of my time hiking and fossil hunting during the
three years that I was there. During my last year
living there, I began to hear things hitting the side
of the cabin at night. At first I brushed it
off to an armadillo or a wild hog rubbing against
the siding. But one night things got real. I was
sitting in bed watching TV with my dogs lying next
to me, when something slapped the side of the cabin
right beside the bed. It was so hard it shook
the pictures on the wall. My dogs and I jumped,
and I grabbed my pistol and turned on the outside lights.
Then I sat down on the lazy boy chair facing
the door with my gun pointing right at it. I
sat like that for several minutes, trying to calm down
the dogs, and then I got up and peeked out
the windows. Of course, I couldn't see a thing. I
didn't sleep much that night, sitting there waiting to see
what would happen next. I thought maybe someone was trying
to break in, But if that were the case, my
dogs would have acted differently, howling or barking at the intruder.
That night, though they were terrified. I put a trail
camera out the next day to see if I could
catch something. Later, when I looked at the footage, I
could see something bilking and hiding in the bushes near
where the foxes were eating. In one frame, a fox
was there, and in the next it was gone, but
behind where it was standing, I could make out a
large face in the brush. Not long after that, I
got a new job teaching in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
I spent most of my time off fishing in the
rivers and lakes and creeks in the mountains. I hide
trails all over, and I was always rock hunting or
panning for gold. I looked for the furthest point that
I could fish along the pe Coast River in the
Santa Fe National Forest, and I settled on the Holy
Ghost Trail. It was completely remote, just a one way
road curving around a mountain. My dogs and I were
the only ones at the campground, and they headed straight
for the water while I explored a bit. The wilderness
was breathtaking with giant aspen, pines and cedars. The creek
was nearby in a narrow valley with mountains on both sides.
After walking around a bit, I started to feel uncomfortable.
I looked around, thinking maybe a bear or a cougar
was watching me. I didn't stay very long because the
dogs started acting weird. They high tailed it, passed me
back to the jeep, and they jumped in. They were
spooked by something. Later at home, I searched online for
the Holy Ghost Trail, only to find that some people
say it is haunted. Sometime later, in March of twenty
twenty one, it was a cold winter day in school
had just gotten out for spring break. I was going
stir crazy, and so were the dogs. And since I
had been teaching school online for nearly two years. It
snowed the day before and some of the ice melted
in the valley where I lived, I was eager to
get in the mountains and do some gold panting. I
found a place called Willow Creek, not far from where
I had been on the Holy Ghost Trail. When I
got there, I stopped to chat with a park ranger.
I told him I was going gold panning, and he
said it was still pretty cold with part of the
river still frozen. But he gave me directions and I
went on my way. I was surrounded by trees on
both sides of the river and behind me as I
drove there. The creek was between two mountains, with just
a small dirt parking area to pull into. My dogs
and I were the only visitors, and with a wilderness
so serene, I felt like I was in a Christmas postcard.
As I walked along the creek, I began to notice
extra large footprints paralleling the water. I followed the tracks
for thirty yards or so until they crossed into the
creek and they disappeared. The stride was so long that
it took nearly two of my giant steps to reach one,
and then the hair on the back of my neck
started standing up. I immediately looked for my dogs, and
I found them frozen, staring into the brush. I called
them back to me, and I looked all around me
for some animal that might be checking me out, all
too aware of the giant footprints and wishing I were
in my truck. We made it into the cabin one piece,
but I couldn't leave. Now I remembered I had a
camera and a measuring tape. Against the winding protests of
my dogs, I got out again. I went to measure
the footprints. There were sixteen inches long and five inches wide,
and the stride was four and a half feet. My
head shot left and right, and I swore I felt
someone's eyes on me. I took a few pictures with
my foot next to the princes, and I raced back
to my truck and we took off. Bigfoot was never
on my mind. Bigfoot had never been on my mind.
It wasn't supposed to be real. But now though, it
was at the front of my thoughts. When I got home,
I researched bigfoot sightings in the area, and to my surprise,
I found dozens around where I lived and hiked, not
just in New Mexico, but where I lived in Texas too.
In fact, one sighting happened at the time something slapped
my house just eight miles from where I lived. Also
discovered that near the place that I had been on
Willow Creek, a hunter went missing. There was a TV show.
I just moved back to Texas this year, this time
to the coast. Even down here people say they've had sightings.
It's incredible how abundant these creatures seem to be if
they managed to stay out of sight. I'm always ready
for a new adventure, and from my near encounters and
from reading others encounters, I feel more prepared than ever.
When I go hiking and camping, I never go without
a firearm, and I always keep an eye on my dogs.
Thanks for this platform and for the chance to share
my stories. Even though mine is not a class A
sighting bigfoot is always on my radar. The writer signs off.
And this was a woman. I thought, since they were
saying it was a professional right at the beginning. The
writer says, it's a professional. They had a professional rodeo career.
Not I guess I'm a chauvinist, but I just assumed
it was a man. But it's a woman out with
her dogs and doing all this stuff. And she's teaching,
and she's rock collecting and panning for gold and going
on long hikes. That's awesome. I think adventurous women are
pretty cool if you ask me. I don't know why,
but I think it's kind of I think they'd be
fun to hang around, I guess, is what I'm saying. Anyway,
this was a great set of anecdotal occurrences in this
woman's life, and wow, what a bunch of stuff to
think about. I'm sure she remembers it all, took pictures.
She's pretty observing out in the wild, and she knows
what she's experiencing. I don't know what she's experiencing, but
I think she knows, especially with the tracks that she
took pictures of, she knows what it is. Anyway, it's
a great set of stories. Thank you man for seeing it.
I really appreciate it. Okay, my voice made it through
the podcast. It's really scratchy right now, and I'm gonna
have to quit talking. But I'm gonna go away for
a while. Today is February twenty sixth I'll probably be
gone for four or five days because I'm going to
finish Steve Lily. If it kills me, I'm gonna finish it,
record it, upload it, and try to finish Steve Lily
twenty I got both of them going. You're gonna find
out a lot about Steve Lily and these and go
on another bigfoot killing adventure. For people who don't know
what I'm talking about regarding Steve Lily, I have another
channel called the Steve Lily Journals. I'll put a link
to it in the description. It'll be right below Trailhead
Adventures because her her channel is more important than the
Steve Lily channel. I want you all to go to
her channel look at her stuff. Then if you want
to hear probably thirty to forty hours of audio with
totally fictional stories. All it's all one continuous story. It's
like a novel that it's grown into a novel. It's
like an audio book with it's actually like a collection
of shorts and some of them have two or three parts. Anyway,
if you're interested in it, and I think I think
you'd like it, I think you'd enjoy it. It's called
the Steve Lily Journals link in the description. Okay, I'll
shut up. Thank you for listening to this podcast or
clicking on this video. I certainly appreciate it, and we
will see you guys. The next time you hear my voice,
there will be an upload to the Steve Lily's Journal podcast.
All right, here we go, Big Steve, Big Steve coming up,