Speaker 1: Brian was a young man who had always been drawn
Speaker 1: to the wild, from the time he was a boy
Speaker 1: wandering the shaded trail of the Adirondacks and Allegheny Mountains.
Speaker 1: He had felt something stirring in the silence of the trees.
Speaker 1: There was peace in those forests, the chirping of warblers,
Speaker 1: the rustle of leaves, the hidden cracks, whispering under mossy stones,
Speaker 1: But also something deeper, something more elusive, a call that
Speaker 1: seemed to rise out of the land itself. It was
Speaker 1: more than adventure that he was seeking. It was a
Speaker 1: truth hidden beneath bark and soil, a secret that waited
Speaker 1: at the edge of every trail. When he left the
Speaker 1: East Coast for California, it was with a hunger for
Speaker 1: more than mountain views and a new hike. He had
Speaker 1: heard of the Sierra Nevadas and the forests that stretched
Speaker 1: north into Oregon and wan Washington, ancient places where the
Speaker 1: trees grew taller than buildings and fog drifted like a
Speaker 1: living ghost through the valleys. And he had heard the
Speaker 1: whispers too, the ones that followed hikers back to town
Speaker 1: after long nights in the woods, stories told in lowered
Speaker 1: voices about a presence watching from the trees, a thing
Speaker 1: with strength beyond reckoning, that lived where man rarely walked,
Speaker 1: bigfoot sasquatch, the wild man of the West. The stories
Speaker 1: were too numerous, too strangely consistent, to ignore, and though
Speaker 1: most laughed them off, Brian carried them like kindling, waiting
Speaker 1: for the spark of proof. He settled in a quiet
Speaker 1: town at the base of the mountains, where a single grocery,
Speaker 1: a diner, and a hardware store seemed to hold the
Speaker 1: pulse of the community. Locals were kind but guarded when
Speaker 1: the subject of the creature arose. Some claimed to have
Speaker 1: seen it just at the edge of their headlights on
Speaker 1: an old logging road. Others of hearing howls unlike any
Speaker 1: wolf or coyote, their voices trembling as they spoke. A
Speaker 1: few swore that boulders had been hurled at them, massive stones,
Speaker 1: crashing through the trees as if thrown by giant hands.
Speaker 1: Most shook their heads and changed the subject, but Brian
Speaker 1: could tell by the way their eyes flicked to the
Speaker 1: dark horizon of forest that they believed, even if they
Speaker 1: refused to admit it aloud. He began to push deeper
Speaker 1: into the wilderness with each hike, as it following a
Speaker 1: trail of breadcrumbs no one else could see. The land
Speaker 1: itself seemed older, more dangerous here, and the deeper he went,
Speaker 1: the more he felt as if he was being tested.
Speaker 1: His boots pressed into earth that smelled of pine and rain,
Speaker 1: while shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy like holy light
Speaker 1: through stained glass. Sometimes the air grew so still that
Speaker 1: his own breath seemed loud. He often stopped, certain he
Speaker 1: had heard something, a footfall, a low rumble, the creak
Speaker 1: of branches underweight too heavy for deer. The silence always returned,
Speaker 1: thick and deliberate, and he would walk on with his
Speaker 1: pulse quickened. One misty morning, he set out with more
Speaker 1: purpose than ever before. He had heard whispers of a
Speaker 1: forgotten trail that wound toward a hidden waterfall few had
Speaker 1: ever seen. The idea of it tugged at him like
Speaker 1: a lure. He packed a small bag, tightened his laces,
Speaker 1: and set out Before the first light. Hours passed under
Speaker 1: towering furs and sequoias, the path narrowing until it seemed
Speaker 1: to vanish altogether. The deeper he went, the more the forest,
Speaker 1: pressed in trunks thick as pillars, roots like serpents. Underfoot,
Speaker 1: he felt smaller with each step, swallowed by something vast
Speaker 1: and timeless. That was when he found them. The first
Speaker 1: print lay in a patch of soft loam at the
Speaker 1: base of a cedar. He crouched and blinked, unable to
Speaker 1: trust what he was seeing. It was wide, easily twice
Speaker 1: the width of his own boot, and flat in a
Speaker 1: way no bear track could be. Five distinct toes pressed
Speaker 1: into the soil, each one round and thick. The depth
Speaker 1: of the impression told him the weight behind it was immense.
Speaker 1: Followed it, finding another print a full stride ahead, and
Speaker 1: then another, moving with a precision and length that no
Speaker 1: man could match. His stomach flipped. They were fresh. A
Speaker 1: strange awareness pricked at the back of his neck. The
Speaker 1: forest felt too quiet, as if it were waiting for
Speaker 1: his reaction. He straightened slowly, his breath shallow, and looked
Speaker 1: into the shadows of the trees. Nothing moved, yet he
Speaker 1: could not shake the certainty that something was there. As
Speaker 1: he pressed on, the feeling of being watched grew unbearable.
Speaker 1: Every few minutes, he stopped, straining to hear and each
Speaker 1: time the noises ceased, Yet in the spaces between he
Speaker 1: heard them, the faint crunch of weight on needles, the
Speaker 1: snap of a twig, the low scrape of something brushing
Speaker 1: against bark. Once he thought he heard a grunt, deep
Speaker 1: and chesty, like a bear, but longer more deliberate. By
Speaker 1: late afternoon, he stumbled at last into a clearing where
Speaker 1: the waterfall thundered into a pool of glassy water. Mist
Speaker 1: hung in the air, cool and heavy, and moss blanketed
Speaker 1: the stones like ancient velvet. It should have been a
Speaker 1: place of peace, untouched and serene. Yet Brian's skin prickled
Speaker 1: with unease. He had not arrived alone. Without warning, a
Speaker 1: massive stone came crashing down the slope above, striking the
Speaker 1: pool with an explosion of spray. Brian staggered back, soaked
Speaker 1: and stunned. The rock hadn't rolled, it had been thrown.
Speaker 1: His eyes darted to the ridge line and scanning for movement,
Speaker 1: but the trees revealed nothing except trembling branches. His heart
Speaker 1: beat thundered in his ears. He knew now that the
Speaker 1: stories of boulders hurled from the dark were not just
Speaker 1: camphire talk. Then it came the sound that hollowed his chest,
Speaker 1: A howl, guttural and resonant, so deep it vibrated through
Speaker 1: his bones. It rose into the canopy, echoing down the
Speaker 1: valley like a sign to something unseen. It wasn't a coyote,
Speaker 1: wasn't a wolf, wasn't anything he could place in the
Speaker 1: catalog of known animals. It was older, more powerful. It
Speaker 1: was a voice that belonged to something that had lived
Speaker 1: in those forests long before man had drawn maps. The
Speaker 1: light faded. He built a fire near the falls, the
Speaker 1: flames snapping weakly. Again, it's the creeping dark. He tried
Speaker 1: to reassure himself that the fire meant safety, but the
Speaker 1: circle of light felt fragile, as if it only marked
Speaker 1: him out for whatever watched from beyond. He sat with
Speaker 1: his back to a rock wall, clutching his knife, though
Speaker 1: he knew it was useless. The crack came not long after,
Speaker 1: the sharp explosive snap of wood breaking under immense pressure.
Speaker 1: His flashlight beam swung up in time to catch the moment.
Speaker 1: A branch thicker than his arm tore free from its trunk.
Speaker 1: It came crashing down just yards from his camp, sending
Speaker 1: needles and bark sprang his throat closed. No man could
Speaker 1: break green wood like that, and no ordinary beast had
Speaker 1: the hands to do it. The light swept the trees again,
Speaker 1: and for the briefest instant it found the shape, a
Speaker 1: towering figure, easily eight feet tall, shoulders broad enough to
Speaker 1: blot out the trunk behind it, fur dark and shaggy.
Speaker 1: The eyes glowed back at him, amber and unblinking, before
Speaker 1: it melted into a shadow with the speed that belied
Speaker 1: its size. His body went rigid. He had seen it,
Speaker 1: not a suggestion, not a rumor, but the creature itself.
Speaker 1: The night became endless. Stones landed at the edge of
Speaker 1: the firelight tossed deliberately, never random. Twice he heard the
Speaker 1: echo of wood knocking against wood, like signals sent into
Speaker 1: the dark. Once, the pungent odor of wet fur and
Speaker 1: earth drifted across the clearing, strong enough to turn his stomach.
Speaker 1: A second hawl farther away confirmed what he dreaded. There
Speaker 1: wasn't just one, he whispered to himself. There are two
Speaker 1: of them. The words evaporated into the mist, meaningless against
Speaker 1: the vastness of the forest. He thought about running, but
Speaker 1: even instinct warned him that movement might trigger a chase,
Speaker 1: so he sat back, pressed to the rock, listening to
Speaker 1: his own breath quicken, while the unseen watchers tested his nerves.
Speaker 1: Time dissolved, minutes stretched into hours. He swore he saw
Speaker 1: the shape once more, crouched low near the tree line,
Speaker 1: before it slipped silently away. Another time, he heard something
Speaker 1: heavy exhale in the dark, a wet, rattling breath that
Speaker 1: raised every hare on his body. At one point, a
Speaker 1: tree far off to his left shuddered and swayed, as
Speaker 1: if something massive had pushed it. The groan of wood
Speaker 1: carried throughout the night, and he knew the message was clear,
Speaker 1: this is our place. He wasn't just trespassing, He was
Speaker 1: being weighed and judged. His mind wandered in those long hours,
Speaker 1: darting from fear to awe. He thought of his father
Speaker 1: back east, who used to tell him the woods were
Speaker 1: alive in ways most never noticed. He remembered being a
Speaker 1: boy camping with friends, and how the dark seemed endless
Speaker 1: then too. But this was different. This was not the
Speaker 1: imagination of a child. Something was out there, massive, intelligent,
Speaker 1: and aware of him. He whispered fragments of prayer, asked
Speaker 1: himself if he was ready to die, then laughed bitterly
Speaker 1: at the thought. The sound seemed too loud in the silence,
Speaker 1: and he clamped his mouth shut, terrified it might draw attention.
Speaker 1: The hours dragged into slow torture. He began speaking under
Speaker 1: his breath, not just prayers, but confessions, admissions of how
Speaker 1: small he felt compared to the vastness of the forest.
Speaker 1: You're real, he whispered, I see you, I believe. He
Speaker 1: felt foolish, but also strangely compelled, as if words of
Speaker 1: acknowledgment might appease the unseen shapes circling beyond the fire.
Speaker 1: The forest gave no reply, except for the faint crunch
Speaker 1: of something moving with patience and purpose. At last, dawn
Speaker 1: crept in the trees. Pale light touched the mist, painting
Speaker 1: its silver, and the forest seemed to exhale. The knox stopped,
Speaker 1: the stones stopped, even the smell was gone. It was
Speaker 1: as though the night had been erased, folded back into
Speaker 1: the deep wilderness where such secrets belong. He packed quickly,
Speaker 1: his hands still shaking, and made his way down the trail.
Speaker 1: Along the way he found more signs, prints deeper than
Speaker 1: the ones before gouges in bark, where something had peeled
Speaker 1: it back with thick fingers. A bowlder balanced on a stump,
Speaker 1: as if placed there with intention. He stopped before it
Speaker 1: and stared. It was no accident, He felt it was
Speaker 1: left for him, a reminder, a marker that his presence
Speaker 1: had been seen, tolerated, but not entirely welcomed. By the
Speaker 1: time he stepped back into the realm of roads and houses,
Speaker 1: he was not the same man. The wilderness had spoken
Speaker 1: to him in languages of howls, stone and broken wood,
Speaker 1: and he had no choice but to believe. Bigfoot was
Speaker 1: no story whispered by firelight. It was flesh and blood,
Speaker 1: cunning and powerful, a being that chose when to reveal
Speaker 1: itself and when to vanish into the unknown. Brian would
Speaker 1: never forget that night. He did not carry terror from it,
Speaker 1: but reverence. He had glimpsed something beyond the reach of
Speaker 1: human understanding, a keeper of the deep forest. It had
Speaker 1: tested him, shown its strength with rocks and trees, but
Speaker 1: it had not armed him. Instead, it had left him
Speaker 1: with a truth few dared to hold. As he walked away,
Speaker 1: he carried the echoes, the thunder of a boulder, striking water,
Speaker 1: the crash of a limb torn free, the glow of
Speaker 1: amber eyes locked with his. He remembered the silence between
Speaker 1: the knocks, the deliberate stillness of a predator that did
Speaker 1: not need to prove itself further. The forest would never
Speaker 1: be the same again. It was older, more alive, and
Speaker 1: filled with secrets far greater than he had ever imagined.
Speaker 1: Somewhere out there, hidden among the endless ridges, Sasquatch remained watching, waiting,
Speaker 1: part of a world that refused to surrender its mysteries.
Speaker 1: If you kind of know my style, I like to
Speaker 1: leave the drop ins and credits at the end because
Speaker 1: I like to get the story out there and make
Speaker 1: sure everybody gets to hear what Bigfoot's Wilderness is about.
Speaker 1: But I just wanted to let you know that I'm
Speaker 1: excited to share that I've been working on something special,
Speaker 1: my new book, which is inspired by my own childhood.
Speaker 1: It's a heartfelt journey through memories, stories, and the moments
Speaker 1: that shaped me into who I am today. I can't
Speaker 1: wait to invite you along for the walk down memory Lane.
Speaker 1: My book is coming soon, so stay tuned and be
Speaker 1: ready to experience these stories with me. Now, this will
Speaker 1: be in eReader fashion as well as a hardcover book,
Speaker 1: probably a paperback, but we'll not be coming to audio
Speaker 1: anytime soon. We'll have to see on that. I also
Speaker 1: wanted to reach out and say thanks to Dave over
Speaker 1: at We're Bigfoot Roams. Please give him a listen. He's
Speaker 1: on YouTube as well as streaming on your favorite podcast
Speaker 1: like Spreaker, Apple, Spotify, etc. Hope everyone has a great night.
Speaker 1: Take care. Did you hear that?
Speaker 2: Out in the wilderness, legends don't just walk the earth,
Speaker 2: They brew in your cup. Welcome to Sasquatch Coffee, where
Speaker 2: every sip is bold, wild and unforgettable. Try our dark
Speaker 2: and mysterious howl in the night, the smooth strength of
Speaker 2: Ape Canyon Blend, or the bright spark of eyeshine. Sasquatch
Speaker 2: Coffee isn't just coffee, It's a taste of the untamed.
Speaker 2: So grab your mug, take a sip, and step into
Speaker 2: the legends.
Speaker 3: Sometimes contents assists, sometimes attempts people. That happens Atta