WEBVTT 1 00:00:00.080 --> 00:00:03.000 Now one of your pudding. I got a string going 2 00:00:03.040 --> 00:00:06.120 on here, something just because my dog. Something killed your dog. 3 00:00:06.919 --> 00:00:08.960 My dog. We're flying through the or over the tree. 4 00:00:09.039 --> 00:00:13.640 I don't know how it did it, Okay, Damn, I'm 5 00:00:13.640 --> 00:00:16.120 really confused. All I saw was my dog coming over 6 00:00:16.199 --> 00:00:17.800 the fence and he was dead. And once you hit 7 00:00:17.839 --> 00:00:19.679 the ground like, I didn't see any cars. All I 8 00:00:19.679 --> 00:00:38.320 saw was my dog coming over the fence. Sat, what 9 00:00:38.359 --> 00:00:42.960 are you putting? We got some wonder or something crawling 10 00:00:43.000 --> 00:00:51.920 around out here? Did you see what it was? 11 00:00:51.719 --> 00:00:52.240 Or was it was? 12 00:00:52.320 --> 00:00:54.719 Standing enough. I'm out here looking through the window now 13 00:00:54.719 --> 00:00:57.479 and I don't see anything. I don't want to go outside. 14 00:00:58.240 --> 00:01:04.760 Jesus Quice, you better hello, get the Boddy out here 15 00:01:05.319 --> 00:01:06.079 when I'm out there. 16 00:01:06.079 --> 00:01:06.640 I thought of a. 17 00:01:06.680 --> 00:01:08.480 Bench about tex forty nine. 18 00:01:08.560 --> 00:01:08.959 I don't know. 19 00:01:09.200 --> 00:01:11.959 Easy him out there. Yeah, I'm walking right head Uh. 20 00:01:12.359 --> 00:01:15.400 I've never told anyone this story, not even my wife. 21 00:01:16.280 --> 00:01:19.120 Some things feel too fragile to share, like they might 22 00:01:19.159 --> 00:01:22.920 dissolve if exposed to skeptical air. But I keep thinking 23 00:01:22.920 --> 00:01:26.480 about it, especially when I'm alone in the woods. This 24 00:01:26.560 --> 00:01:29.840 happened three years ago during hunting season. I had permission 25 00:01:29.840 --> 00:01:33.359 to hunt on private land about forty miles east of Bellingham, 26 00:01:33.599 --> 00:01:37.000 old growth forest that backed up against the Cascade foothills. 27 00:01:37.799 --> 00:01:41.319 The landowner, an elderly man named Frank, had one rule 28 00:01:41.959 --> 00:01:44.640 stay away from the clearing on the north ridge. He 29 00:01:44.680 --> 00:01:48.640 said it was unstable ground, dangerous for walking. I figured 30 00:01:48.680 --> 00:01:52.159 it was just liability concerns. I'd been hunting that property 31 00:01:52.200 --> 00:01:56.280 for two weeks without seeing much deer sign everywhere, but 32 00:01:56.359 --> 00:01:59.640 the animals themselves seem to have vanished tracks in the 33 00:01:59.719 --> 00:02:03.000 mud near water sources, rubs on trees where bucks had 34 00:02:03.040 --> 00:02:06.239 scraped their antlers, fresh droppings that couldn't have been more 35 00:02:06.280 --> 00:02:09.560 than a day old, but no deer. It was like 36 00:02:09.599 --> 00:02:12.000 they'd been spooked by something and moved deeper into the 37 00:02:12.039 --> 00:02:16.159 forest beyond the areas I was permitted to hunt. The 38 00:02:16.199 --> 00:02:19.280 first week, I'd stuck to the established trails, following the 39 00:02:19.360 --> 00:02:21.360 rough map Frank had drawn from me on the back 40 00:02:21.400 --> 00:02:24.919 of an envelope. The property was larger than I'd expected, 41 00:02:25.400 --> 00:02:29.400 maybe three hundred acres of mixed terrain, old growth douglas 42 00:02:29.400 --> 00:02:32.680 fir on the higher elevations, thick stands of alder and 43 00:02:32.719 --> 00:02:35.919 maple in the creek bottoms, and open meadows where logging 44 00:02:35.960 --> 00:02:40.000 operations decades ago had left clearings that were slowly growing back. 45 00:02:40.919 --> 00:02:43.599 I'm not a novice hunter. I've been tracking deer through 46 00:02:43.599 --> 00:02:47.319 Pacific Northwest forests for twenty five years, since my father 47 00:02:47.400 --> 00:02:50.080 first took me out when I was twelve. I know 48 00:02:50.199 --> 00:02:53.360 how to read sign, how to move quietly through underbrush, 49 00:02:53.800 --> 00:02:56.719 how to position myself downwind and wait with the kind 50 00:02:56.759 --> 00:03:00.919 of patients that separates successful hunters from weekend warriors who 51 00:03:00.919 --> 00:03:04.360 make too much noise and go home empty handed. But 52 00:03:04.439 --> 00:03:07.840 this property felt different from the start. The deer sign 53 00:03:07.919 --> 00:03:11.599 was there, but it was old, not ancient, but not 54 00:03:11.719 --> 00:03:14.960 fresh either, like the animals had been using these trails 55 00:03:14.960 --> 00:03:20.199 and feeding areas regularly until recently, then suddenly stopped. I 56 00:03:20.240 --> 00:03:23.080 found several spots where groups had bedded down for the night. 57 00:03:23.680 --> 00:03:27.680 Circular depressions in the grass still visible, the vegetation pressed 58 00:03:27.719 --> 00:03:31.000 flat in the distinctive patterns deer make when they settle 59 00:03:31.080 --> 00:03:34.719 in for sleep. But these spots had the feel of abandonment, 60 00:03:35.280 --> 00:03:37.719 like camp sites that had been vacated in a hurry. 61 00:03:38.599 --> 00:03:41.000 On what would be my last morning, I decided to 62 00:03:41.080 --> 00:03:44.560 hike deeper than I'd gone before, following an old logging 63 00:03:44.639 --> 00:03:47.919 road that petered out into deer trails. The road was 64 00:03:47.960 --> 00:03:51.599 more of a suggestion now, two parallel ruts barely visible 65 00:03:51.680 --> 00:03:56.120 under years of fallen leaves and encroaching vegetation. Frank had 66 00:03:56.120 --> 00:03:59.400 mentioned it during our initial conversation, said it led back 67 00:03:59.439 --> 00:04:01.800 to an area that had been selectively logged in the 68 00:04:01.840 --> 00:04:05.599 eighties before he'd bought the property. The timber company had 69 00:04:05.599 --> 00:04:09.319 taken out the biggest trees, but left the forest largely intact. 70 00:04:10.240 --> 00:04:13.680 I started hiking before dawn, using my headlamp to navigate 71 00:04:13.719 --> 00:04:17.519 the first mile of established trail. The October morning was 72 00:04:17.600 --> 00:04:20.759 crisp but not cold, with a low fog that hung 73 00:04:20.800 --> 00:04:23.079 in the valleys and turned the forest into something out 74 00:04:23.079 --> 00:04:25.920 of a fairy tale. My breath came out in small 75 00:04:25.920 --> 00:04:29.279 puffs that dissipated quickly in the still air. I was 76 00:04:29.319 --> 00:04:32.360 carrying my thirty hot six, a rifle I'd owned for 77 00:04:32.439 --> 00:04:37.160 fifteen years and trusted completely. The scope was zeroed perfectly, 78 00:04:37.439 --> 00:04:39.720 and I had four rounds in the magazine plus one 79 00:04:39.720 --> 00:04:43.959 in the chamber. The forest felt different that morning. Not quiet, 80 00:04:44.319 --> 00:04:47.879 that's too simple. It felt arranged, like someone had been 81 00:04:47.959 --> 00:04:51.600 through ahead of me, adjusting things, Branches that should have 82 00:04:51.639 --> 00:04:55.399 been hanging down were pulled aside. Fallen logs that blocked 83 00:04:55.399 --> 00:04:58.800 the trail had been moved, not dragged, but lifted and 84 00:04:58.839 --> 00:05:02.319 placed with care, the kind of precision that takes time 85 00:05:02.399 --> 00:05:05.600 and thought. At first, I assumed other hunters had been 86 00:05:05.639 --> 00:05:09.600 through improving the trail for easier passage, But as I 87 00:05:09.680 --> 00:05:12.800 walked deeper into the woods, I realized the modifications were 88 00:05:12.839 --> 00:05:17.079 too subtle, too careful for human work. A branch pulled 89 00:05:17.079 --> 00:05:19.759 aside and secured with what looked like natural twist in 90 00:05:19.800 --> 00:05:23.519 the wood. A fallen log rolled precisely far enough to 91 00:05:23.519 --> 00:05:26.839 clear the path, but not far enough to look obviously moved. 92 00:05:27.600 --> 00:05:31.160 Small stones placed to create stable footing across a muddy section, 93 00:05:31.639 --> 00:05:35.079 but arranged so naturally they could have been deposited by erosion. 94 00:05:35.879 --> 00:05:38.920 I found myself moving without making noise, though I hadn't 95 00:05:38.959 --> 00:05:43.000 consciously decided to be stealthy. My boots found soft ground 96 00:05:43.000 --> 00:05:46.959 between the twigs, my jacket didn't catch on branches. It 97 00:05:47.000 --> 00:05:49.000 was like the path was being prepared for me As 98 00:05:49.040 --> 00:05:52.240 I walked, each step falling into place with an ease 99 00:05:52.279 --> 00:05:57.399 that felt almost choreographed. The old logging road curved gradually upward, 100 00:05:57.680 --> 00:06:00.120 following the contours of a ridge that Frank's hand and 101 00:06:00.199 --> 00:06:03.120 drawn map showed as the eastern boundary of its property. 102 00:06:03.800 --> 00:06:07.040 I could see blazes on trees marking the property line, 103 00:06:07.120 --> 00:06:09.240 old cuts in the bark that had healed over but 104 00:06:09.360 --> 00:06:13.439 remained visible as raised scars. The road ended abruptly at 105 00:06:13.480 --> 00:06:16.240 what must have been a loading area, a flat space 106 00:06:16.319 --> 00:06:18.519 carved out of the hillside where logs would have been 107 00:06:18.560 --> 00:06:22.279 stacked waiting for transport. From there, a network of deer 108 00:06:22.319 --> 00:06:25.560 trails led in different directions. I chose the one that 109 00:06:25.639 --> 00:06:29.240 seemed most heavily used, though even that showed signs of 110 00:06:29.319 --> 00:06:33.639 recent abandonment. The trail was clear enough, a narrow path 111 00:06:33.720 --> 00:06:37.839 worn smooth by decades of hoofs, but spiderwebs stretched across 112 00:06:37.879 --> 00:06:40.920 it at face level and fallen branches hadn't been disturbed 113 00:06:40.959 --> 00:06:44.360 by passing animals. The deer trail led to a stream 114 00:06:44.399 --> 00:06:47.399 I wasn't expecting too wide and fast flowing to be 115 00:06:47.480 --> 00:06:50.279 on any of the maps I'd studied. The water was 116 00:06:50.279 --> 00:06:53.399 clear enough to see smooth stones on the bottom arranged 117 00:06:53.399 --> 00:06:58.959 in patterns that looked intentional spirals, mostly concentric circles. Some 118 00:06:59.079 --> 00:07:02.360 of the arrangements were clearly natural, the result of current 119 00:07:02.439 --> 00:07:06.160 and gravity working on rocks over time, but others seemed 120 00:07:06.199 --> 00:07:10.759 too precise, too geometric, to be accidental. I stood at 121 00:07:10.800 --> 00:07:13.199 the edge of the stream for several minutes, trying to 122 00:07:13.240 --> 00:07:16.360 decide if I was seeing things. The patterns could have 123 00:07:16.399 --> 00:07:19.680 been coincidence, the way the human brain imposes order on 124 00:07:19.800 --> 00:07:23.439 random arrangements. But the more I looked, the more convinced 125 00:07:23.480 --> 00:07:26.600 I became that someone had been here, someone with time 126 00:07:26.680 --> 00:07:30.839 and patience and a particular esthetic sense. That's when I 127 00:07:30.920 --> 00:07:34.560 noticed the smell, not the usual forest smells of rot 128 00:07:34.639 --> 00:07:38.720 and moss and damp earth. This was something else, clean 129 00:07:39.279 --> 00:07:43.360 but wrong, like wet concrete, like the inside of a 130 00:07:43.360 --> 00:07:48.079 cave that's never seen sunlight. It wasn't overpowering, just present 131 00:07:48.160 --> 00:07:51.360 enough to register as out of place. I've spent enough 132 00:07:51.360 --> 00:07:53.879 time in the woods to know the normal range of odors, 133 00:07:54.439 --> 00:07:58.680 decomposing leaves, animal scat, the green smell of growing things, 134 00:07:59.199 --> 00:08:02.600 the mineral scent of water over rocks. This was none 135 00:08:02.639 --> 00:08:07.079 of those. Across the stream, maybe sixty yards away, something 136 00:08:07.120 --> 00:08:11.560 moved between the trees, not walking exactly, more like flowing 137 00:08:11.600 --> 00:08:14.519 from one spot to another, the way shadows move when 138 00:08:14.519 --> 00:08:19.639 clouds pass overhead. I raised my rifle instinctively, then felt foolish. 139 00:08:20.399 --> 00:08:23.040 There was nothing to aim at, just the suggestion of 140 00:08:23.079 --> 00:08:26.959 movement in my peripheral vision. The movement stopped, and I 141 00:08:27.000 --> 00:08:30.439 realized I was being watched, not the way deer watch you, 142 00:08:31.120 --> 00:08:36.440 alert and ready to bolt. This felt patient, analytical, like 143 00:08:36.519 --> 00:08:38.679 being studied by someone who had all the time in 144 00:08:38.720 --> 00:08:42.639 the world to reach conclusions. The sensation was so strong 145 00:08:42.679 --> 00:08:47.000 it was almost physical, like pressure against my skin. I've 146 00:08:47.000 --> 00:08:50.279 been watched by bears before, and by mountain lions I 147 00:08:50.360 --> 00:08:54.679 never saw, but knew we're there. This was different, more focused, 148 00:08:55.200 --> 00:08:59.080 more intelligent. I sat down on a fallen log and waited. 149 00:08:59.559 --> 00:09:02.799 I'm not sure why, maybe because standing felt like I 150 00:09:02.840 --> 00:09:06.000 was trying too hard, like I was performing being human. 151 00:09:06.840 --> 00:09:11.639 The watching sensation didn't fade, but it changed quality, less clinical, 152 00:09:11.960 --> 00:09:15.519 more curious, like the initial assessment had been completed and 153 00:09:15.559 --> 00:09:19.440 now came the longer study. The stream gurgled softly over 154 00:09:19.480 --> 00:09:24.320 the arranged stones. Somewhere upstream, a raven called once and 155 00:09:24.399 --> 00:09:28.679 fell silent. The fog was beginning to lift, filtered sunlight, 156 00:09:28.759 --> 00:09:32.559 creating columns of light between the trees. It was beautiful 157 00:09:32.559 --> 00:09:35.360 in the way that only deep forests can be. But 158 00:09:35.440 --> 00:09:38.039 there was an edge to it, a sense of being 159 00:09:38.080 --> 00:09:41.720 in a place where normal rules might not apply. I 160 00:09:41.759 --> 00:09:44.559 stayed there for maybe twenty minutes, listening to the water 161 00:09:44.639 --> 00:09:48.519 and feeling the weight of observation. Eventually I heard branches 162 00:09:48.559 --> 00:09:52.000 moving on the far side of the stream, deliberate movement, 163 00:09:52.519 --> 00:09:57.000 heavy but careful. Something large was walking parallel to the water, 164 00:09:57.399 --> 00:10:00.519 pacing back and forth like it was thinking. The sounds 165 00:10:00.519 --> 00:10:08.480 were regular, methodical step pawse step step, pause, like someone 166 00:10:08.480 --> 00:10:12.559 measuring distance or working through a problem. Then the pacing stopped. 167 00:10:13.240 --> 00:10:15.559 I looked across the stream and saw it standing there, 168 00:10:16.000 --> 00:10:19.879 maybe forty feet away, not hiding behind trees, but not 169 00:10:19.919 --> 00:10:22.799 trying to be seen either, just standing in a small 170 00:10:22.840 --> 00:10:27.600 gap between two large Douglas furs, perfectly still. It looked 171 00:10:27.639 --> 00:10:30.360 like a person wearing a heavy coat, but the proportions 172 00:10:30.399 --> 00:10:34.200 were wrong, the shoulders too broad, the arms too long. 173 00:10:35.039 --> 00:10:37.879 The head sat differently on the neck, tilted forward in 174 00:10:37.919 --> 00:10:40.960 a way that seemed uncomfortable for a human. It was 175 00:10:41.000 --> 00:10:45.360 covered in dark hair or fur, but not uniformly, lighter 176 00:10:45.399 --> 00:10:47.519 patches on what might have been the chest and face, 177 00:10:48.200 --> 00:10:51.960 darker along the arms and shoulders. The face was in shadow, 178 00:10:52.480 --> 00:10:55.279 but I could see eyes reflecting the filtered sunlight, like 179 00:10:55.320 --> 00:10:58.960 an animal's eyes, but larger and set closer together than 180 00:10:59.000 --> 00:11:02.240 seemed right. It was watching me with the same patience 181 00:11:02.279 --> 00:11:04.759 i'd felt earlier, like we were both part of some 182 00:11:04.879 --> 00:11:08.320 agreement I didn't remember making. There was no aggression in 183 00:11:08.360 --> 00:11:13.279 its posture, no sense of threat. If anything, it seemed curious, 184 00:11:13.759 --> 00:11:17.039 tilting its head slightly as it studied me. We looked 185 00:11:17.039 --> 00:11:19.120 at each other for what felt like a long time. 186 00:11:19.840 --> 00:11:23.320 I wasn't afraid, which should have been strange, but somehow wasn't. 187 00:11:24.159 --> 00:11:27.840 Fear would have been the normal response any hunter encountering 188 00:11:27.879 --> 00:11:31.039 something this far outside the normal range of forest animals 189 00:11:31.120 --> 00:11:34.519 should feel at least some anxiety. But sitting there by 190 00:11:34.559 --> 00:11:38.519 the stream, watching this thing watch me felt completely natural, 191 00:11:39.240 --> 00:11:42.039 like this was how things were supposed to happen, Like 192 00:11:42.080 --> 00:11:44.960 I'd been walking toward this moment my entire life without 193 00:11:45.039 --> 00:11:48.720 knowing it. I found myself thinking about the arranged stones 194 00:11:48.759 --> 00:11:52.519 in the stream, the modified trail, the careful way the 195 00:11:52.559 --> 00:11:56.759 path had been prepared. This wasn't a chance encounter. Something 196 00:11:56.759 --> 00:12:00.200 had been guiding me here, creating the conditions for this meeting, 197 00:12:00.240 --> 00:12:02.960 with the same patience it was now showing and studying me. 198 00:12:03.879 --> 00:12:06.440 The creature took a step to its left, never breaking 199 00:12:06.480 --> 00:12:09.919 eye contact, and I saw how it moved, not like 200 00:12:09.960 --> 00:12:12.720 a human in a bulky coat, but with a fluidity 201 00:12:12.759 --> 00:12:17.039 that suggested the bulk was natural, not artificial. The step 202 00:12:17.120 --> 00:12:20.240 was careful but confident, like someone who knew exactly where 203 00:12:20.240 --> 00:12:23.639 to place their feet without looking down. It took another 204 00:12:23.679 --> 00:12:27.200 step parallel to the stream bank, and I realized it 205 00:12:27.240 --> 00:12:31.919 was circling, not stalking. There was nothing predatory about the movement, 206 00:12:32.679 --> 00:12:35.399 more like someone walking around a sculpture in a museum, 207 00:12:35.960 --> 00:12:39.000 viewing it from different angles to get a complete understanding, 208 00:12:39.799 --> 00:12:42.320 I stayed sitting on the fallen log, letting it circle. 209 00:12:42.960 --> 00:12:45.320 The smart thing would have been to leave, to back 210 00:12:45.320 --> 00:12:48.600 away slowly and hike out to my truck, but the 211 00:12:48.720 --> 00:12:51.960 encounter felt too important to abandon, too much like a 212 00:12:52.000 --> 00:12:55.279 test I hadn't known I was taking. The creature completed 213 00:12:55.279 --> 00:12:59.279 about a quarter circle before stopping again. From this new angle, 214 00:12:59.320 --> 00:13:02.120 I could see more of its profile. The head was 215 00:13:02.200 --> 00:13:06.519 definitely wrong for a human, too large to forward thrust. 216 00:13:07.360 --> 00:13:10.799 The arms were proportionally longer than they should be, hanging 217 00:13:10.840 --> 00:13:14.120 down past where the hips would be, but the overall 218 00:13:14.159 --> 00:13:20.000 impression was still man like, bipedal, intelligent. It raised one arm, 219 00:13:20.320 --> 00:13:23.679 the movement slow and deliberate, and placed its hand against 220 00:13:23.720 --> 00:13:27.080 the trunk of a tree. The hand was huge, dark 221 00:13:27.120 --> 00:13:29.879 furred on the back, with fingers that looked strong enough 222 00:13:29.879 --> 00:13:34.360 to tear bark. But it touched the tree gently, almost caressingly. 223 00:13:35.080 --> 00:13:38.879 Then it began to move again, continuing its circle. I 224 00:13:38.919 --> 00:13:40.840 watched it move around me for what must have been 225 00:13:40.879 --> 00:13:44.679 ten minutes. Sometimes it was clearly visible between the trees, 226 00:13:45.240 --> 00:13:49.080 sometimes just a shadow moving behind underbrush, but I never 227 00:13:49.159 --> 00:13:52.120 lost the sense of being observed, of being the center 228 00:13:52.159 --> 00:13:56.440 of its attention. It was learning me, I realized, taking 229 00:13:56.480 --> 00:14:00.360 my measure in some way I didn't understand. Only it 230 00:14:00.360 --> 00:14:03.279 completed the circle and returned to its original position across 231 00:14:03.320 --> 00:14:06.480 the stream. We looked at each other again, and I 232 00:14:06.519 --> 00:14:10.720 had the strangest sense of communication, not words, not even 233 00:14:10.759 --> 00:14:15.799 thoughts exactly, but some kind of understanding passing between us, recognition, 234 00:14:15.919 --> 00:14:19.120 maybe acknowledgment that we had seen each other and found 235 00:14:19.120 --> 00:14:22.720 no threat. Then it took a step backward into the trees, 236 00:14:23.440 --> 00:14:26.840 not fleeing, just retreating with the same deliberate care it 237 00:14:26.840 --> 00:14:30.600 had shown when circling. I caught glimpses of it moving away, 238 00:14:31.240 --> 00:14:34.480 a shoulder here, the swing of an arm there, until 239 00:14:34.480 --> 00:14:37.960 it was gone, But the watching feeling continued for several 240 00:14:37.960 --> 00:14:42.679 more minutes, fainter but still present, like it had withdrawn, 241 00:14:42.759 --> 00:14:44.679 but was still keeping an eye on me from a 242 00:14:44.679 --> 00:14:48.240 greater distance. I sat by the stream for another hour, 243 00:14:48.679 --> 00:14:52.600 but gradually the feeling of observation faded. Whatever had been 244 00:14:52.639 --> 00:14:56.440 studying me had reached its conclusions and moved on. The 245 00:14:56.480 --> 00:14:59.799 forest began to feel normal again, just trees and water 246 00:14:59.840 --> 00:15:02.519 and and the ordinary sounds of birds and small animals 247 00:15:02.559 --> 00:15:06.919 going about their lives. And stay tuned for more sasquatch 248 00:15:06.919 --> 00:15:09.440 ot to see. We'll be right back after these messages. 249 00:15:13.720 --> 00:15:16.320 When I finally stood to leave, I noticed something I'd 250 00:15:16.320 --> 00:15:19.840 missed before. On my side of the stream, maybe twenty 251 00:15:19.840 --> 00:15:22.840 feet upstream from where I'd been sitting, someone had built 252 00:15:22.879 --> 00:15:27.440 a small cairn, five smooth stones stacked in a precise pyramid, 253 00:15:28.000 --> 00:15:30.799 the kind of marker hikers sometimes leave to mark trails 254 00:15:30.879 --> 00:15:35.080 or indicate water sources. But this one wasn't marking anything obvious. 255 00:15:35.679 --> 00:15:39.159 It sat by itself in a small clearing, clearly visible 256 00:15:39.159 --> 00:15:41.039 from where I'd been sitting, but not from the deer 257 00:15:41.080 --> 00:15:43.879 trail that had brought me here. I walked over to 258 00:15:43.919 --> 00:15:48.120 examine it more closely. The stones were perfectly balanced, each 259 00:15:48.159 --> 00:15:50.879 one chosen for its size and shape to create a 260 00:15:50.919 --> 00:15:54.960 stable structure. The bottom stone was flat and broad, the 261 00:15:55.000 --> 00:15:58.600 others progressively smaller toward the top. It would have taken 262 00:15:58.679 --> 00:16:02.000 time and care to build, and considerable thought about balance 263 00:16:02.039 --> 00:16:05.840 and proportion. But what struck me most was its position. 264 00:16:06.639 --> 00:16:09.240 The cairn sat exactly where someone would place it to 265 00:16:09.240 --> 00:16:11.679 be visible from the fallen log where I'd been sitting, 266 00:16:12.480 --> 00:16:15.919 like a calling card, like someone saying they had been here, 267 00:16:16.360 --> 00:16:20.559 had anticipated this moment, had prepared for it. I didn't 268 00:16:20.559 --> 00:16:24.240 disturb the cairn, but I studied it carefully. The stones 269 00:16:24.279 --> 00:16:27.879 were all local granite and sandstone from the stream bed, 270 00:16:28.240 --> 00:16:32.000 smooth and water worn. The construction was recent enough that 271 00:16:32.120 --> 00:16:34.519 no moss had grown on the joints, but not so 272 00:16:34.639 --> 00:16:36.279 recent that it could have been built while I was 273 00:16:36.320 --> 00:16:41.120 sitting twenty feet away. Someone had prepared this beforehand, knowing 274 00:16:41.200 --> 00:16:42.919 or hoping that I would be here to see it. 275 00:16:43.799 --> 00:16:45.960 The hike back to my truck took twice as long 276 00:16:46.000 --> 00:16:49.240 as the hike, in partly because I was moving more carefully, 277 00:16:49.720 --> 00:16:53.120 paying attention to details I'd missed in the pre dawn darkness. 278 00:16:53.519 --> 00:16:56.120 The modified trail was even more obvious now that I 279 00:16:56.200 --> 00:16:59.840 knew what to look for. Dozens of small adjustments each 280 00:17:00.000 --> 00:17:02.440 it was one, subtle, but collectively creating a path that 281 00:17:02.559 --> 00:17:05.400 was easier and quieter to follow than it should have been. 282 00:17:06.440 --> 00:17:09.559 Near the old logging road, I found another cairn. This 283 00:17:09.599 --> 00:17:12.880 one was older, moss growing in the joints between stones, 284 00:17:13.400 --> 00:17:16.599 but the construction was identical to the one by the stream, 285 00:17:17.039 --> 00:17:21.680 same proportions, same careful balance. It sat beside the trail 286 00:17:21.720 --> 00:17:23.839 in a spot where it would be visible to anyone 287 00:17:23.920 --> 00:17:26.839 walking back toward the main road, but easy to miss 288 00:17:26.839 --> 00:17:29.720 if you weren't looking for it. When I finally hiked 289 00:17:29.720 --> 00:17:31.839 back to my truck, Frank was waiting for me in 290 00:17:31.880 --> 00:17:35.680 the parking area. He looked concerned, studying my face as 291 00:17:35.720 --> 00:17:38.240 I approached. He asked if I'd gone up to the 292 00:17:38.279 --> 00:17:42.480 north ridge. I told him no, which was technically true. 293 00:17:42.519 --> 00:17:46.680 I'd been east of there, following the stream. He seemed relieved, 294 00:17:46.880 --> 00:17:50.440 mentioned that the area had unstable ground, dangerous for walking. 295 00:17:51.240 --> 00:17:54.960 Then he paused, looking at something over my shoulder. Frank 296 00:17:55.000 --> 00:17:58.480 told me that folks go missing up there, sometimes not often, 297 00:17:58.960 --> 00:18:01.759 but enough to worry about it. They usually turn up 298 00:18:01.759 --> 00:18:05.519 a day or two later, confused, don't remember where they've been. 299 00:18:06.400 --> 00:18:09.839 But they come back different, he said, calmer, like they'd 300 00:18:09.839 --> 00:18:13.079 figured something out. I asked him if he'd ever seen 301 00:18:13.119 --> 00:18:16.640 anything unusual on his property. Frank was quiet for a 302 00:18:16.640 --> 00:18:21.279 long moment, studying my face. He said, I look different, calmer, 303 00:18:21.839 --> 00:18:24.759 like I'd figured something out too. I didn't know what 304 00:18:24.799 --> 00:18:28.160 to say to that. He continued, saying that some people 305 00:18:28.200 --> 00:18:30.400 come back from the woods different than they went in, 306 00:18:31.240 --> 00:18:34.400 usually for the better in his experience, like they made 307 00:18:34.400 --> 00:18:37.359 peace with something they didn't know they were fighting. He'd 308 00:18:37.359 --> 00:18:39.960 owned the property for thirty years, he said, and he'd 309 00:18:40.039 --> 00:18:43.400 learned to recognize the signs. Then he asked me about 310 00:18:43.400 --> 00:18:47.359 the cairns. The question caught me off guard. I hadn't 311 00:18:47.400 --> 00:18:50.559 mentioned finding them, hadn't even been sure what they were called. 312 00:18:51.359 --> 00:18:54.440 But Frank seemed to know exactly what I'd seen. He 313 00:18:54.519 --> 00:18:56.599 told me the cairens had been appearing for as long 314 00:18:56.680 --> 00:18:59.839 as he'd owned the property, always in the same style, 315 00:19:00.440 --> 00:19:04.440 always carefully constructed, always placed where people would find them 316 00:19:04.480 --> 00:19:07.880 if they were paying attention. He tried removing them once 317 00:19:08.000 --> 00:19:11.839 years ago, but they came back not in the same spots, 318 00:19:12.200 --> 00:19:15.680 but new ones would appear elsewhere on the property. Eventually 319 00:19:15.759 --> 00:19:18.279 he'd stopped trying to get rid of them. They weren't 320 00:19:18.359 --> 00:19:21.240 hurting anything, and the people who found them always seemed 321 00:19:21.279 --> 00:19:24.400 to come back from their hikes more settled, more at peace, 322 00:19:25.359 --> 00:19:27.559 like they'd had some kind of experience out there that 323 00:19:27.599 --> 00:19:30.160 was good for them, even if they couldn't explain what 324 00:19:30.240 --> 00:19:33.119 it was. Frank had his own theory about what was 325 00:19:33.119 --> 00:19:35.640 happening on his property, but he didn't share it with 326 00:19:35.680 --> 00:19:39.039 me that day. He just said that some places are special, 327 00:19:39.359 --> 00:19:42.319 and smart people learned to respect that instead of trying 328 00:19:42.359 --> 00:19:46.200 to understand it. I've thought about that conversation many times since, 329 00:19:46.880 --> 00:19:49.759 about the arrangement I seemed to have stumbled into, and 330 00:19:49.799 --> 00:19:52.640 whether I'm supposed to go back and honor whatever understanding 331 00:19:52.720 --> 00:19:56.400 was reached that morning. Sometimes I think I will. Other 332 00:19:56.480 --> 00:19:59.039 times I think the encounter was complete, as it was 333 00:19:59.599 --> 00:20:02.799 perfect in its brevity. But I keep that section of 334 00:20:02.839 --> 00:20:06.079 forest in my mind like a bookmark, holding my place 335 00:20:06.079 --> 00:20:09.160 in a story I'm not sure I understand yet. And 336 00:20:09.240 --> 00:20:12.680 sometimes when I'm out hunting in other places, I find 337 00:20:12.680 --> 00:20:16.440 myself looking for cairns, small stacks of stones that might 338 00:20:16.519 --> 00:20:19.400 mean someone else has been invited into an arrangement they 339 00:20:19.400 --> 00:20:22.240 didn't know they were seeking. I never did see a 340 00:20:22.279 --> 00:20:25.279 deer on Frank's property, but I stopped hunting there. Not 341 00:20:25.319 --> 00:20:28.240 because the hunting was bad, but because it felt wrong 342 00:20:28.319 --> 00:20:30.759 to carry a rifle into a place where I'd been 343 00:20:30.759 --> 00:20:33.720 trusted with something much more valuable than any animal I 344 00:20:33.839 --> 00:20:37.319 might kill. The season ended without me filling my tag, 345 00:20:37.880 --> 00:20:40.400 but for the first time in twenty five years of hunting, 346 00:20:40.839 --> 00:20:43.759 I didn't care. The second account I want to share 347 00:20:43.799 --> 00:20:47.079 comes from a photographer who'd been documenting abandoned places in 348 00:20:47.119 --> 00:20:51.039 the mountains. Her encounter was different from the hunters, less 349 00:20:51.039 --> 00:20:54.960 about mutual understanding and more about witnessing something that wasn't 350 00:20:55.000 --> 00:20:58.880 meant to be seen. I'd been documenting abandoned settlements across 351 00:20:58.880 --> 00:21:01.759 the Pacific Northwest for three years when I found the 352 00:21:01.759 --> 00:21:05.279 logging camp. My project focused on places that had been 353 00:21:05.319 --> 00:21:10.440 swallowed back by wilderness, homesteads, mining towns, forgotten communities that 354 00:21:10.480 --> 00:21:14.960 existed now only as foundations, and rusted machinery slowly disappearing 355 00:21:15.039 --> 00:21:18.920 under ferns and moss. The idea had started during my 356 00:21:19.000 --> 00:21:21.640 first year out of art school, when a friend mentioned 357 00:21:21.640 --> 00:21:24.319 an old mining town near Mount Baker that had been 358 00:21:24.359 --> 00:21:27.759 abandoned since the nineteen twenties. I hiked up there with 359 00:21:27.839 --> 00:21:30.640 my camera, expecting to find a few tumble down buildings, 360 00:21:31.200 --> 00:21:35.359 maybe some interesting textures for a black and white series. Instead, 361 00:21:35.720 --> 00:21:39.839 I found something that felt like archaeology, not just old buildings, 362 00:21:40.160 --> 00:21:43.559 but evidence of lives interrupted, of people who had simply 363 00:21:43.599 --> 00:21:47.119 walked away from their homes and never returned. There was 364 00:21:47.119 --> 00:21:50.640 something haunting about these places that went beyond their visual appeal. 365 00:21:51.359 --> 00:21:55.000 They felt like puzzles with missing pieces, stories that ended 366 00:21:55.039 --> 00:21:58.720 mid sentence. I became fascinated with the question of what 367 00:21:58.880 --> 00:22:02.160 causes people to obey and in not just individual buildings, 368 00:22:02.400 --> 00:22:07.599 but entire communities. Economic collapse was the usual explanation, but 369 00:22:07.680 --> 00:22:10.440 the more sites I visited, the more I suspected there 370 00:22:10.440 --> 00:22:15.400 were other factors. Places that felt wrong somehow. Even decades 371 00:22:15.440 --> 00:22:19.279 after the last residents had left, the logging camp sat 372 00:22:19.319 --> 00:22:22.759 in a valley forty miles from the nearest road, accessible 373 00:22:22.799 --> 00:22:25.599 only by a network of old service trails that my 374 00:22:25.720 --> 00:22:30.000 GPS insisted didn't exist. I'd found references to it in 375 00:22:30.119 --> 00:22:35.480 historical society records. Pacific rim Logging Operational from nineteen sixty 376 00:22:35.519 --> 00:22:40.559 two to nineteen sixty seven, abruptly closed due to operational difficulties. 377 00:22:41.319 --> 00:22:44.400 No details beyond that, just a notation that the site 378 00:22:44.480 --> 00:22:47.480 had been abandoned, with equipment and structures left in place. 379 00:22:48.240 --> 00:22:50.880 Getting permission to access the site had taken months of 380 00:22:50.920 --> 00:22:54.720 research and phone calls. The property had changed hands several 381 00:22:54.759 --> 00:22:57.799 times since Pacific Rim had abandoned it, and the current 382 00:22:57.839 --> 00:23:01.119 owners lived in California and seemed only vaguely aware of 383 00:23:01.119 --> 00:23:04.720 what was on their land. Eventually, their property manager gave 384 00:23:04.759 --> 00:23:08.160 me permission to hike in and photograph, with the understanding 385 00:23:08.200 --> 00:23:11.119 that I was doing so at my own risk. The 386 00:23:11.200 --> 00:23:12.200 hike took most. 387 00:23:11.960 --> 00:23:12.440 Of a day. 388 00:23:12.960 --> 00:23:16.839 The service roads were barely passable, more suggestion than reality 389 00:23:16.880 --> 00:23:20.279 after decades of weather and washouts. I had to park 390 00:23:20.319 --> 00:23:22.440 my truck eight miles from the site and walk the 391 00:23:22.480 --> 00:23:25.640 rest of the way, carrying sixty pounds of camera equipment 392 00:23:25.880 --> 00:23:30.240 in a backpack design for serious wilderness photography. I reached 393 00:23:30.279 --> 00:23:33.720 the valley on a Tuesday morning in late September, hiking alone, 394 00:23:33.759 --> 00:23:37.279 as I always did. Solitude was essential for this kind 395 00:23:37.279 --> 00:23:40.680 of work, not just for practical reasons, but because these 396 00:23:40.720 --> 00:23:43.720 places seemed to reveal themselves differently when you were alone 397 00:23:43.799 --> 00:23:47.960 with them. Groups of people changed the energy somehow made 398 00:23:47.960 --> 00:23:52.440 the sites feel like tourist destinations rather than archaeological mysteries. 399 00:23:53.240 --> 00:23:56.000 My camera bag held two film bodies loaded with black 400 00:23:56.039 --> 00:24:00.039 and white stock, the digital camera I used for reference shots, 401 00:24:00.079 --> 00:24:03.039