WEBVTT 1 00:00:02.480 --> 00:00:05.759 For decades, people have disappeared in the woods without a trace. 2 00:00:06.519 --> 00:00:10.279 Some blame wild animals, others whisper of creatures the world 3 00:00:10.359 --> 00:00:14.160 refuses to believe in. But those who have survived they 4 00:00:14.199 --> 00:00:18.679 know the truth. Welcome to Backwoods Bigfoot Stories, where we 5 00:00:18.719 --> 00:00:22.879 share real encounters with the things lurking in the darkness Bigfoot, 6 00:00:23.199 --> 00:00:28.239 dog man, UFOs, and creatures that defy explanation. Some make 7 00:00:28.280 --> 00:00:30.760 it out, others aren't so lucky. 8 00:00:30.960 --> 00:00:32.520 Are you ready, because. 9 00:00:32.320 --> 00:00:34.640 Once you hear these stories, you'll never walk in the 10 00:00:34.640 --> 00:00:38.920 woods alone again. So grab your flashlight, stay close, and 11 00:00:39.039 --> 00:00:41.840 remember some things in the woods don't want to be found. 12 00:00:42.520 --> 00:00:46.240 Hit that follow or subscribe button, turn on auto downloads, 13 00:00:46.439 --> 00:00:47.600 and let's head off into. 14 00:00:47.439 --> 00:01:03.920 The woods if you dare. I've been working. 15 00:01:03.759 --> 00:01:06.519 Security at the lumber mill for going on twelve years now, 16 00:01:06.959 --> 00:01:09.159 and I thought I'd seen everything there was to see 17 00:01:09.239 --> 00:01:13.200 during those long midnight shifts. The mill sits right up 18 00:01:13.239 --> 00:01:17.400 against the Cascade foothills, surrounded by dense timber that stretches 19 00:01:17.439 --> 00:01:21.480 for miles in every direction. Most nights, the only sounds 20 00:01:21.519 --> 00:01:24.079 you hear are the occasional truck passing on the highway 21 00:01:24.120 --> 00:01:27.799 about a mile out. Maybe some coyotes yipping in the distance, 22 00:01:28.359 --> 00:01:31.439 or the settling groans of the old equipment cooling down 23 00:01:31.439 --> 00:01:34.760 from the day shift. The mill itself is pretty impressive 24 00:01:34.760 --> 00:01:38.200 if you've never seen one. We've got three massive buildings 25 00:01:38.239 --> 00:01:42.640 housing the main processing equipment, plus dozens of smaller outbuildings 26 00:01:42.640 --> 00:01:46.760 for storage, maintenance, and offices. The whole complex covers about 27 00:01:46.760 --> 00:01:50.439 sixty acres, with another forty acres of lumber storage yards 28 00:01:50.599 --> 00:01:53.120 where they stack the finished boards in neat rows that 29 00:01:53.159 --> 00:01:56.879 look like wooden skyscrapers from a distance. My job is 30 00:01:56.920 --> 00:01:59.920 to make rounds through all of it, checking doors, mono 31 00:02:00.120 --> 00:02:02.879 entering the camera feeds, and making sure nobody's trying to 32 00:02:02.879 --> 00:02:06.920 steal equipment or vandalize anything. It was a Tuesday night 33 00:02:06.920 --> 00:02:10.199 in late October when things got strange. The temperature had 34 00:02:10.280 --> 00:02:13.280 dropped fast that evening, from about sixty during the day 35 00:02:13.360 --> 00:02:15.719 down to maybe thirty five by the time I clocked 36 00:02:15.719 --> 00:02:18.800 in at eleven. There was frost starting to form on 37 00:02:18.840 --> 00:02:21.479 the windshields in the parking lot, and my breath was 38 00:02:21.520 --> 00:02:25.080 making little clouds as I walked my rounds. The mill 39 00:02:25.159 --> 00:02:27.759 was shut down completely that night for some maintenance work 40 00:02:27.800 --> 00:02:30.280 they were doing on the main conveyor system, so it 41 00:02:30.319 --> 00:02:34.680 was quieter than usual, just me, the security cameras, and 42 00:02:34.759 --> 00:02:39.039 about forty acres of stacked lumber and machinery. I'd started 43 00:02:39.039 --> 00:02:41.479 my shift like any other, checking in with the day 44 00:02:41.560 --> 00:02:45.240 supervisor before he left, reviewing the daily log and making 45 00:02:45.280 --> 00:02:48.960 sure all the gates were properly locked. The maintenance crew 46 00:02:48.960 --> 00:02:51.400 had left around ten, so I knew for certain that 47 00:02:51.479 --> 00:02:54.520 I was the only person on the property. I settled 48 00:02:54.520 --> 00:02:56.680 into the security office with a cup of coffee and 49 00:02:56.719 --> 00:02:59.879 started my first round of camera checks, cycling through the 50 00:02:59.879 --> 00:03:02.599 twelve monitors that cover different sections of the mill. 51 00:03:03.360 --> 00:03:04.599 I was making my second. 52 00:03:04.479 --> 00:03:07.400 Round of the night, probably around one thirty in the morning, 53 00:03:07.680 --> 00:03:11.400 when I first noticed something was off. My usual route 54 00:03:11.439 --> 00:03:14.240 takes me past the main lumber storage area where they 55 00:03:14.319 --> 00:03:17.199 keep the finished board stacked in neat piles about twenty 56 00:03:17.199 --> 00:03:20.680 feet high. These stacks are arranged in rows with just 57 00:03:20.800 --> 00:03:23.680 enough space between them for a forklift to maneuver through. 58 00:03:24.479 --> 00:03:27.479 I've walked this same path thousands of times, so I 59 00:03:27.520 --> 00:03:31.319 know every shadow, every normal sound, every place where the 60 00:03:31.360 --> 00:03:35.719 security lights create unusual patterns. But that night, as I 61 00:03:35.800 --> 00:03:38.639 was walking between two of the larger stacks, I heard 62 00:03:38.680 --> 00:03:43.680 what sounded like wood shifting, not unusual by itself. Lumber settles, 63 00:03:44.080 --> 00:03:46.840 especially when the temperature changes like it had that evening. 64 00:03:47.360 --> 00:03:50.039 But this wasn't the quick crack or pop you usually 65 00:03:50.080 --> 00:03:53.840 hear when boards expand or contract. It was a slow, 66 00:03:54.199 --> 00:03:59.039 deliberate sound, like someone was carefully moving pieces around. I 67 00:03:59.039 --> 00:04:02.319 stopped walking in lit for maybe thirty seconds, but everything 68 00:04:02.319 --> 00:04:06.080 went quiet again. I continued my rounds, but I couldn't 69 00:04:06.080 --> 00:04:09.159 shake the feeling that something was watching me. You know 70 00:04:09.240 --> 00:04:11.319 that sensation when the hair on the back of your 71 00:04:11.360 --> 00:04:14.879 neck stands up for no reason, you can explain, That's 72 00:04:14.919 --> 00:04:18.439 what I was dealing with. I kept turning around, expecting 73 00:04:18.480 --> 00:04:20.600 to see one of the maintenance guys or maybe a 74 00:04:20.639 --> 00:04:23.839 supervisor who'd come back to check on something, But there 75 00:04:23.879 --> 00:04:26.759 was never anyone there, just the yellow glow of the 76 00:04:26.800 --> 00:04:30.439 security lights reflecting off the metal roofing and creating long 77 00:04:30.480 --> 00:04:34.680 shadows between the equipment. The lumber storage area covers about 78 00:04:34.680 --> 00:04:38.720 forty acres, with twelve major sections divided by access roads 79 00:04:38.959 --> 00:04:42.319 wide enough for the big trucks to navigate. Each section 80 00:04:42.439 --> 00:04:47.120 contains hundreds of stacks organized by lumber type and grade. 81 00:04:47.240 --> 00:04:50.319 During the day, it's a busy place. With forklifts constantly 82 00:04:50.399 --> 00:04:54.240 moving materials around, but at night it becomes this maze 83 00:04:54.279 --> 00:04:57.800 of wooden walls and dark passages where sounds echo in 84 00:04:57.879 --> 00:05:01.360 strange ways. An hour later, I was sitting in the 85 00:05:01.360 --> 00:05:04.560 security office reviewing the camera feeds when I saw something 86 00:05:04.560 --> 00:05:08.040 I couldn't make sense of. The office has monitors for 87 00:05:08.079 --> 00:05:11.199 twelve different cameras positioned around the property, and I was 88 00:05:11.240 --> 00:05:14.199 switching between them like I always do, just keeping an 89 00:05:14.240 --> 00:05:17.480 eye on things. When I clicked over to camera seven, 90 00:05:17.759 --> 00:05:20.759 which covers the northeast section of the lumberyard, I saw 91 00:05:20.800 --> 00:05:23.240 a shadow moving between the stacks that was way too 92 00:05:23.240 --> 00:05:26.199 big to be human. At first, I thought maybe it 93 00:05:26.240 --> 00:05:28.319 was just a trick of the infrared lighting that the 94 00:05:28.360 --> 00:05:31.920 cameras use for night vision. Sometimes the wind will move 95 00:05:31.920 --> 00:05:34.680 a tarp or piece of loose metal, and it can 96 00:05:34.759 --> 00:05:38.240 create shadows that look like movement. But as I watched 97 00:05:38.639 --> 00:05:42.439 this shadow emerged from behind one stack and moved toward another, 98 00:05:43.240 --> 00:05:46.360 it wasn't walking like a person would walk. The movement 99 00:05:46.439 --> 00:05:50.519 was too fluid, too purposeful, and the proportions were all wrong. 100 00:05:51.360 --> 00:05:54.560 The shoulders were massive, much broader than any human I'd 101 00:05:54.560 --> 00:05:57.920 ever seen, and it moved with this weird loping gait 102 00:05:58.000 --> 00:06:02.839 that covered ground fast despite appearing almost casual. I adjusted 103 00:06:02.839 --> 00:06:05.720 the camera controls, trying to get a better view, but 104 00:06:05.839 --> 00:06:09.160 the thing stayed in the shadows between the stacks. It 105 00:06:09.199 --> 00:06:12.920 moved through the lumberyard with what seemed like familiarity, like 106 00:06:12.959 --> 00:06:15.040 it knew exactly where it was going and how to 107 00:06:15.079 --> 00:06:18.040 stay out of direct view of the cameras. The way 108 00:06:18.040 --> 00:06:21.319 it navigated between the stacks suggested it had been there before, 109 00:06:21.879 --> 00:06:25.839 knew the layout, understood the lighting patterns. I grabbed my 110 00:06:25.879 --> 00:06:29.680 flashlight in radio and headed out to investigate. The logical 111 00:06:29.680 --> 00:06:31.439 part of my brain was telling me it had to 112 00:06:31.439 --> 00:06:34.160 be someone playing a prank, or maybe a vagrant who'd 113 00:06:34.160 --> 00:06:37.439 wandered onto the property. But deep down I knew what 114 00:06:37.480 --> 00:06:41.079 I'd seen wasn't human. The size and movement were unlike 115 00:06:41.120 --> 00:06:44.319 anything I'd encountered in twelve years of night security work. 116 00:06:45.240 --> 00:06:48.160 The walk from the security office to the northeast lumberyard 117 00:06:48.199 --> 00:06:50.839 takes about eight minutes if you're moving at a normal pace. 118 00:06:51.680 --> 00:06:54.519 That night, I covered the distance in half that time, 119 00:06:55.000 --> 00:06:59.199 driven by a mixture of adrenaline and professional responsibility. The 120 00:06:59.199 --> 00:07:03.160 security lights cast everything in harsh yellow and black, creating 121 00:07:03.160 --> 00:07:06.199 a landscape of deep shadows and bright spots that made 122 00:07:06.199 --> 00:07:09.079 it difficult to see clearly. When I got to the 123 00:07:09.120 --> 00:07:13.360 northeast section, everything looked normal at first glance. The lumber 124 00:07:13.360 --> 00:07:16.920 stacks were exactly as they should be, no signs of disturbance. 125 00:07:17.680 --> 00:07:21.480 The access roads between sections were empty, no footprints in 126 00:07:21.519 --> 00:07:25.439 the dust, no overturned equipment. But as I started walking 127 00:07:25.480 --> 00:07:28.879 between the rows, my flashlight beam dancing across the ground 128 00:07:28.920 --> 00:07:31.199 in front of me, I noticed something that made my 129 00:07:31.279 --> 00:07:36.079 stomach drop. There were footprints in the frost, clear unmistakable 130 00:07:36.120 --> 00:07:39.079 impressions in the thin layer of ice crystals that had 131 00:07:39.120 --> 00:07:42.839 formed on the packed earth between the lumber stacks. Now, 132 00:07:43.079 --> 00:07:45.240 I've been around plenty of work boots in my time, 133 00:07:45.519 --> 00:07:47.839 and I know what human footprints look like in soft 134 00:07:47.879 --> 00:07:52.160 ground or snow. These weren't human footprints. They were easily 135 00:07:52.199 --> 00:07:55.000 twice the size of my boots, which are size eleven. 136 00:07:55.800 --> 00:07:59.160 The prints were deep, like whatever made them was incredibly heavy, 137 00:07:59.519 --> 00:08:02.519 and they had a strange, elongated shape that was unlike 138 00:08:02.600 --> 00:08:03.920 any shoe or boot. 139 00:08:03.680 --> 00:08:04.319 I'd ever seen. 140 00:08:05.240 --> 00:08:07.879 But what really got to me was how perfectly clear 141 00:08:07.959 --> 00:08:11.600 they were. The frost had formed after whoever or whatever 142 00:08:11.639 --> 00:08:15.319 made these prints had walked through, preserving them like photographs 143 00:08:15.319 --> 00:08:18.680 in the ice. The detail was incredible. I could see 144 00:08:18.720 --> 00:08:21.160 what looked like tow impressions at the front of each print, 145 00:08:21.680 --> 00:08:23.959 and the depth varied, as if the creature had been 146 00:08:24.000 --> 00:08:28.879 walking carefully, deliberately placing each step. I followed the trail 147 00:08:28.879 --> 00:08:31.199 for about fifty yards before it led to the fence 148 00:08:31.240 --> 00:08:34.480 line that borders the forest. The chain link fence is 149 00:08:34.519 --> 00:08:37.919 eight feet high with barbed wire on top, designed to 150 00:08:37.960 --> 00:08:40.519 keep both people and animals out of the mill property. 151 00:08:41.039 --> 00:08:43.279 But the prints just ended right at the base of it. 152 00:08:43.879 --> 00:08:46.240 There was no sign that anything had climbed over or 153 00:08:46.279 --> 00:08:50.039 gone under. No disturbed earth near the fence, no bent 154 00:08:50.159 --> 00:08:53.679 chain link, no hair caught on the barbed wire. It 155 00:08:53.720 --> 00:08:56.559 was like whatever made these tracks had simply vanished into 156 00:08:56.600 --> 00:08:59.960 thin air. I spent another twenty minute searching the area 157 00:09:00.120 --> 00:09:03.279 with my flashlight, looking for any other evidence of what 158 00:09:03.360 --> 00:09:06.360 had been there. I found a few more partial prints, 159 00:09:06.600 --> 00:09:09.759 but they were less clear, just depressions in areas where 160 00:09:09.759 --> 00:09:13.279 the frost hadn't formed as thickly. I also noticed that 161 00:09:13.320 --> 00:09:16.159 some of the lumber stacks showed signs of having been touched, 162 00:09:16.799 --> 00:09:20.039 not moved exactly, but there were areas where the frost 163 00:09:20.080 --> 00:09:23.600 had been disturbed, like something large had brushed against the wood. 164 00:09:24.360 --> 00:09:27.519 The radio on my belt crackled to life. It scared 165 00:09:27.559 --> 00:09:30.919 me so bad I nearly dropped my flashlight. It was 166 00:09:30.960 --> 00:09:33.399 the automated signal that reminded me to check in with 167 00:09:33.440 --> 00:09:36.679 the monitoring service, something I was supposed to do every 168 00:09:36.720 --> 00:09:40.080 two hours. I realized I'd been out investigating for almost 169 00:09:40.159 --> 00:09:43.759 forty five minutes, Completely absorbed and trying to understand what 170 00:09:43.840 --> 00:09:47.320 I'd discovered. I made my way back to the security office, 171 00:09:47.799 --> 00:09:51.039 my mind racing with questions and doubts. Part of me 172 00:09:51.120 --> 00:09:54.519 wanted to believe there was a rational explanation, a large 173 00:09:54.559 --> 00:09:58.519 person in oversized boots maybe, or some kind of elaborate prank, 174 00:09:59.320 --> 00:10:02.159 but the size and depth of those prints, combined with 175 00:10:02.200 --> 00:10:05.559 what I'd seen on the camera, didn't fit any normal explanation. 176 00:10:06.440 --> 00:10:08.960 I spent the rest of my shift in the security office, 177 00:10:09.120 --> 00:10:12.919 watching the monitors and jumping at every sound. I documented 178 00:10:12.919 --> 00:10:15.639 the time and location of the incident in the security log, 179 00:10:16.159 --> 00:10:19.159 but I kept the description vague, just noting that I'd 180 00:10:19.200 --> 00:10:23.440 investigated possible unauthorized activity in the Northeast lumber yard and 181 00:10:23.480 --> 00:10:27.000 found no signs of intrusion or damage. When the day 182 00:10:27.000 --> 00:10:30.200 shift supervisor arrived at six am, I told him about 183 00:10:30.240 --> 00:10:33.159 the footprints. Rick had been working at the mill for 184 00:10:33.200 --> 00:10:36.320 almost twenty years, and I figured if anyone would know 185 00:10:36.360 --> 00:10:39.120 what to make of strange tracks on the property, it 186 00:10:39.159 --> 00:10:42.039 would be him. He came out to look at them, 187 00:10:42.159 --> 00:10:44.480 and I could see the confusion and unease in his 188 00:10:44.559 --> 00:10:48.200 face as he examined them. The morning sun had started 189 00:10:48.200 --> 00:10:51.360 to melt the frost, but the prints were still clearly visible. 190 00:10:52.080 --> 00:10:54.320 Rick took some pictures with his phone and measured one 191 00:10:54.360 --> 00:10:56.879 of the clearer prints with a tape measure he'd brought 192 00:10:56.919 --> 00:11:00.240 from his truck. The print was just over eight teen 193 00:11:00.279 --> 00:11:03.399 inches long and about seven inches wide at the widest point. 194 00:11:04.200 --> 00:11:06.720 He walked around the area for a while, looking at 195 00:11:06.720 --> 00:11:09.600 the fence line and checking for any other signs of disturbance, 196 00:11:10.080 --> 00:11:12.919 but he was as puzzled as I was. He told 197 00:11:12.919 --> 00:11:15.120 me he'd report it to management and suggested that we 198 00:11:15.200 --> 00:11:17.919 might want to review the camera footage more carefully to 199 00:11:17.960 --> 00:11:20.759 see if we could spot anything else. But he also 200 00:11:20.919 --> 00:11:23.120 asked me not to mention it to anyone else until 201 00:11:23.120 --> 00:11:25.919 they figured out what to do about it. He seemed 202 00:11:25.960 --> 00:11:30.360 genuinely concerned not just about security, but about something else 203 00:11:30.399 --> 00:11:33.200 that he didn't want to put into words. That was 204 00:11:33.240 --> 00:11:36.559 three months ago, and management never said another word about 205 00:11:36.559 --> 00:11:40.480 those prints. Rick mentioned once that he'd submitted the photos 206 00:11:40.480 --> 00:11:43.639 and his report, but apparently the response was just to 207 00:11:43.679 --> 00:11:46.440 increase the frequency of security rounds and make sure all 208 00:11:46.440 --> 00:11:50.879 the cameras were functioning properly. No investigation, no follow up, 209 00:11:51.320 --> 00:11:55.000 no explanation. But I'll never forget them, and I'll never 210 00:11:55.039 --> 00:11:58.240 forget what I saw on that monitor. The image of 211 00:11:58.279 --> 00:12:01.639 that massive shadow moving between the lumber stacks with such 212 00:12:01.679 --> 00:12:05.960 purpose and intelligence is burned into my memory. Since that night, 213 00:12:06.000 --> 00:12:09.600 I've noticed subtle changes in my routine. I find myself 214 00:12:09.639 --> 00:12:13.519 avoiding the northeast section during my rounds, especially during the 215 00:12:13.600 --> 00:12:17.080 darker hours before dawn. When I do have to patrol 216 00:12:17.159 --> 00:12:20.159 that area, I move quickly and keep my radio close 217 00:12:20.200 --> 00:12:23.480 at hand. I've also started paying closer attention to the 218 00:12:23.480 --> 00:12:29.120 other security cameras, looking for movement or shadows that don't belong. Sometimes, 219 00:12:29.120 --> 00:12:32.000 in the early morning hours, when fatigue starts to set in, 220 00:12:32.639 --> 00:12:34.279 I think I see something at the edge of the 221 00:12:34.320 --> 00:12:37.679 camera feeds, a shape that's there one moment and gone 222 00:12:37.720 --> 00:12:41.159 the next. But whenever I look more carefully switching to 223 00:12:41.200 --> 00:12:45.200 that camera and adjusting the focus, there's nothing there. The 224 00:12:45.240 --> 00:12:47.720 strangest part is how it's affected my perception of the 225 00:12:47.759 --> 00:12:50.960 forest that surrounds the mill. I used to think of 226 00:12:51.000 --> 00:12:54.879 it as just trees and wildlife, nothing more threatening than 227 00:12:54.919 --> 00:12:58.360 the occasional black bear or coyote that might wander onto 228 00:12:58.399 --> 00:13:01.879 the property. When I look at those dark spaces between 229 00:13:01.879 --> 00:13:05.440 the trees, especially on moonless nights, when the shadows seem 230 00:13:05.519 --> 00:13:09.039 deeper and more impenetrable, I wonder what else might be 231 00:13:09.080 --> 00:13:13.679 out there. Sometimes, on particularly quiet nights, I still hear 232 00:13:13.679 --> 00:13:16.919 the sound of wood shifting in the distance. It's always 233 00:13:16.960 --> 00:13:20.600 slow and deliberate, like something massive is moving carefully through 234 00:13:20.600 --> 00:13:23.919 the lumber stacks. I've gotten into the habit of checking 235 00:13:23.919 --> 00:13:26.600 camera seven more than I used to, but I've never 236 00:13:26.639 --> 00:13:31.080 seen anything definitive again, just shadows that might be movement, 237 00:13:31.440 --> 00:13:34.720 or might be my imagination playing tricks on me. The 238 00:13:34.759 --> 00:13:38.200 mill is scheduled to expand next year, pushing further into 239 00:13:38.200 --> 00:13:42.360 the forest to accommodate new equipment and additional lumber storage. 240 00:13:42.440 --> 00:13:44.960 I find myself wondering what we might disturb when the 241 00:13:44.960 --> 00:13:49.200 construction crews start clearing trees and breaking ground. Some things 242 00:13:49.240 --> 00:13:52.159 are better left undisturbed, and I have a feeling that 243 00:13:52.200 --> 00:13:55.000 whatever left those prints in the frost that October night 244 00:13:55.279 --> 00:13:57.960 would prefer to remain in the darkness between the trees, 245 00:13:58.559 --> 00:14:01.480 watching and waiting, but staying out of our world as 246 00:14:01.519 --> 00:14:02.919 long as we stay out of its. 247 00:14:04.080 --> 00:14:04.240 Now. 248 00:14:04.279 --> 00:14:07.320 Let's turn to another encounter, this one from someone who 249 00:14:07.440 --> 00:14:11.399 ventured much deeper into those same forests, armed only with 250 00:14:11.440 --> 00:14:14.679 a camera. I've been a nature photographer for the better 251 00:14:14.720 --> 00:14:17.320 part of twenty years, and my work has taken me 252 00:14:17.360 --> 00:14:21.320 to some pretty remote places throughout the Pacific Northwest. I 253 00:14:21.360 --> 00:14:25.960 specialize in wildlife photography, particularly in areas affected by natural 254 00:14:26.000 --> 00:14:29.399 disasters and recovery, and I'm used to spending days alone 255 00:14:29.440 --> 00:14:32.159 in the wilderness with nothing but my camera gear and 256 00:14:32.240 --> 00:14:36.679 basic camping supplies. Over the years, I photographed everything from 257 00:14:36.720 --> 00:14:40.080 mountain goats on impossible cliff faces to wolves in their 258 00:14:40.080 --> 00:14:43.679 winter hunting grounds, and I've always felt completely comfortable in 259 00:14:43.720 --> 00:14:47.960 the wilderness. My equipment is professional grade and represents a 260 00:14:48.000 --> 00:14:52.799 significant investment. Multiple camera bodies, an array of lenses from 261 00:14:52.879 --> 00:14:57.759 wide angle to super telephoto, tripods, lighting equipment, and all 262 00:14:57.759 --> 00:15:02.200 the associated accessories that come with seers nature photography. I 263 00:15:02.240 --> 00:15:04.960 typically carry about forty pounds of gear when I'm doing 264 00:15:05.000 --> 00:15:08.799 this kind of work, organized in a specialized backpack system 265 00:15:09.039 --> 00:15:12.519 that allows me to access everything quickly while protecting. 266 00:15:12.120 --> 00:15:13.360 It from the elements. 267 00:15:13.960 --> 00:15:16.559 Last summer, I was working on a series documenting the 268 00:15:16.600 --> 00:15:21.320 ecosystem recovery in areas affected by forest fires. The project 269 00:15:21.399 --> 00:15:24.480 was commissioned by an environmental magazine that wanted to show 270 00:15:24.519 --> 00:15:28.799 how nature rebounds after major disturbances, and I'd gotten permission 271 00:15:28.840 --> 00:15:31.919 to access several sections of National Forest that had been 272 00:15:31.919 --> 00:15:36.159 closed to the public for years following major fires. These 273 00:15:36.200 --> 00:15:39.120 areas were just starting to show signs of real recovery, 274 00:15:39.480 --> 00:15:42.159 with new growth emerging between the charred remains of the 275 00:15:42.200 --> 00:15:44.639 old forest, and I thought it would make for some 276 00:15:44.720 --> 00:15:48.720 compelling and hopeful images. I'd planned a five day solo 277 00:15:48.759 --> 00:15:51.159 trip to a valley about eight miles from the nearest 278 00:15:51.200 --> 00:15:54.840 forest service road. The area had been devastated by a 279 00:15:54.879 --> 00:15:58.919 fire three years earlier, but recent aerial surveys suggested it 280 00:15:58.960 --> 00:16:02.639 was beginning to recover dramatically. I'd been there once before, 281 00:16:02.960 --> 00:16:06.080 about two years earlier, and remembered it as an ideal 282 00:16:06.159 --> 00:16:09.000 location for the kind of documentary work I was doing. 283 00:16:09.799 --> 00:16:12.759 The terrain was challenging but manageable, and there was a 284 00:16:12.799 --> 00:16:15.840 small creek running through the valley that provided fresh water 285 00:16:16.159 --> 00:16:19.919 and supported much of the returning wildlife. The hike d 286 00:16:19.919 --> 00:16:22.639 took most of the day, following an old fire road 287 00:16:22.679 --> 00:16:26.559 that had been partially reclaimed by new vegetation. The contrast 288 00:16:26.600 --> 00:16:29.600 between the burned areas and the recovering sections was striking. 289 00:16:30.159 --> 00:16:32.840 In some places the forest floor was still carpeted with 290 00:16:32.919 --> 00:16:36.960 ash and fallen logs, while in others, vibrant green shoots 291 00:16:36.960 --> 00:16:37.720 were pushing up. 292 00:16:37.720 --> 00:16:38.399 Through the debris. 293 00:16:39.279 --> 00:16:42.039 It was exactly the kind of dramatic recovery story that 294 00:16:42.080 --> 00:16:45.240 the magazine wanted to document. I set up my base 295 00:16:45.279 --> 00:16:47.559 camp in a small clearing about a quarter mile from 296 00:16:47.559 --> 00:16:50.679 the creek, surrounded by a mix of burned snags and 297 00:16:50.759 --> 00:16:55.039 new saplings. The site offered good protection from wind and weather, 298 00:16:55.399 --> 00:16:59.159 with easy access to water and several promising photography locations 299 00:16:59.240 --> 00:17:00.360 within hiking disytince. 300 00:17:01.120 --> 00:17:01.679 I used a. 301 00:17:01.720 --> 00:17:06.000 Lightweight but sturdy tent designed for extended backcountry use, and 302 00:17:06.039 --> 00:17:09.319 I organized my camera equipment in weather resistant cases that 303 00:17:09.359 --> 00:17:13.559 could be quickly accessed when wildlife presented itself. The first 304 00:17:13.559 --> 00:17:16.920 three days went exactly as planned. I got some incredible 305 00:17:16.920 --> 00:17:19.640 shots of the new growth pushing up through the burned soil, 306 00:17:20.160 --> 00:17:22.519 and I managed to photograph a family of deer that 307 00:17:22.559 --> 00:17:26.079 had returned to the area, along with various bird species 308 00:17:26.119 --> 00:17:29.519 that were taking advantage of the changing habitat The weather 309 00:17:29.640 --> 00:17:33.200 was perfect, clear skies during the day and cool but 310 00:17:33.279 --> 00:17:37.000 comfortable at night. I fell into a comfortable routine of 311 00:17:37.039 --> 00:17:40.559 early morning and late evening photography sessions when the light 312 00:17:40.680 --> 00:17:44.680 was best and wildlife most active. I spent the middle 313 00:17:44.680 --> 00:17:47.440 parts of each day exploring different areas of the valley, 314 00:17:47.920 --> 00:17:51.839 scouting locations for future shoots, and documenting the various stages 315 00:17:51.880 --> 00:17:56.519 of recovery. I found some areas were completely barren, nothing 316 00:17:56.559 --> 00:18:01.119 but ash and charred stumps, while others showed remarkable regeneration. 317 00:18:02.079 --> 00:18:05.359 The contrast made for powerful images, and I was excited 318 00:18:05.400 --> 00:18:08.880 about how the project was developing. On the fourth day, 319 00:18:09.200 --> 00:18:12.279 things started to feel different. I woke up that morning 320 00:18:12.319 --> 00:18:15.880 with an uneasy feeling that I couldn't quite explain. The 321 00:18:15.920 --> 00:18:17.759 forest seemed quieter than it had been. 322 00:18:17.680 --> 00:18:20.480 The previous days. Usually i'd wake up. 323 00:18:20.359 --> 00:18:22.880 To a symphony of bird songs and the sounds of 324 00:18:22.920 --> 00:18:26.759 small animals moving through the underbrush. But that morning everything 325 00:18:26.839 --> 00:18:31.680 was silent, not just quiet, completely silent, like the entire 326 00:18:31.759 --> 00:18:33.000 valley was still asleep. 327 00:18:33.799 --> 00:18:34.720 I've spent enough. 328 00:18:34.519 --> 00:18:37.119 Time in the wilderness to know that sudden silence usually 329 00:18:37.160 --> 00:18:40.599 means one of two things. Either a predator is nearby, 330 00:18:41.079 --> 00:18:45.039 or there's some other disturbance that has spooked the local wildlife. 331 00:18:45.079 --> 00:18:47.880 I lay in my tent for several minutes, listening carefully 332 00:18:47.920 --> 00:18:50.799 for any sound that might explain the unusual quiet. 333 00:18:51.480 --> 00:18:52.319 But there was nothing. 334 00:18:52.880 --> 00:18:57.559 No wind, no birds, no insects, just an oppressive silence 335 00:18:57.599 --> 00:19:00.400 that seemed to press in from all sides. When I 336 00:19:00.440 --> 00:19:03.359 finally emerged from my tent, the morning light revealed a 337 00:19:03.440 --> 00:19:06.960 valley that looked normal in every visible way. The burn 338 00:19:07.039 --> 00:19:10.920 trees stood like sentinels against the brightening sky. The new 339 00:19:10.960 --> 00:19:13.839 growth sparkled with morning dew, and the creek continued its 340 00:19:13.920 --> 00:19:17.680 quiet murmur in the distance. But the absence of wildlife 341 00:19:17.720 --> 00:19:22.759 activity was unmistakable. No birds flew overhead, no squirrels chattered 342 00:19:22.799 --> 00:19:26.559 in the surviving trees, no insects buzzed around the flowering 343 00:19:26.559 --> 00:19:30.000 plants that had begun to recolonize the area. I spent 344 00:19:30.039 --> 00:19:33.240 the day working as usual, hiking to different locations within 345 00:19:33.279 --> 00:19:36.759 the valley and setting up shots. But throughout the day 346 00:19:37.079 --> 00:19:39.400 I kept getting the feeling that I was being watched. 347 00:19:40.200 --> 00:19:43.319 It started as just a vague unease, the kind of 348 00:19:43.319 --> 00:19:46.319 feeling you might get when walking alone through an unfamiliar 349 00:19:46.319 --> 00:19:50.319 neighborhood at night, but as the hours passed, the sensation 350 00:19:50.480 --> 00:19:55.319 became more pronounced and specific. During one afternoon photography session, 351 00:19:55.519 --> 00:19:57.880 I was setting up a macro shot of new ferns 352 00:19:57.880 --> 00:20:01.319 growing through charred soil when the of being observed became 353 00:20:01.400 --> 00:20:04.559 so strong that I had to stop working. Stay tuned 354 00:20:04.599 --> 00:20:06.640 for more Backwoods big Foot stories. 355 00:20:06.960 --> 00:20:07.559 We'll be back. 356 00:20:07.559 --> 00:20:13.960 After these messages, I slowly turned around, scanning the tree 357 00:20:14.000 --> 00:20:17.000 line and the rocky outcroppings that surrounded the valley floor. 358 00:20:17.839 --> 00:20:18.720 The area was a. 359 00:20:18.680 --> 00:20:22.039 Mixture of burned forest and new growth, with plenty of 360 00:20:22.079 --> 00:20:25.319 places where something could remain hidden while maintaining a clear 361 00:20:25.400 --> 00:20:28.319 view of the valley. I began to notice patterns in 362 00:20:28.359 --> 00:20:31.519 my unease. The feeling was strongest when I was working 363 00:20:31.559 --> 00:20:35.200 in certain areas of the valley, particularly near the eastern edge, 364 00:20:35.200 --> 00:20:37.640 where a steep slope rose to a ridge line about 365 00:20:37.640 --> 00:20:40.839 three hundred feet above the valley floor. When I moved 366 00:20:40.839 --> 00:20:44.440 to other locations, the sensation would fade, but it never 367 00:20:44.480 --> 00:20:48.720 disappeared completely. It was as if something was tracking my movements, 368 00:20:49.079 --> 00:20:52.599 positioning itself to maintain observation while staying out of sight. 369 00:20:53.480 --> 00:20:55.799 That evening, as I was setting up my camera for 370 00:20:55.880 --> 00:20:59.000 some sunset shots, I heard something that made me freeze 371 00:20:59.039 --> 00:21:02.359 in place. It was a sound unlike anything I'd ever 372 00:21:02.400 --> 00:21:06.559 heard before, a deep, resonant howl that seemed to echo. 373 00:21:06.440 --> 00:21:07.640 Through the entire valley. 374 00:21:08.400 --> 00:21:10.920 It wasn't like a wolf howl, which I'd heard plenty 375 00:21:10.920 --> 00:21:14.200 of times before during my work in wilderness areas. This 376 00:21:14.400 --> 00:21:17.960 was much deeper, more guttural, and it had an almost 377 00:21:18.000 --> 00:21:21.960 mournful quality that raised goose bumps on my arms. The 378 00:21:22.039 --> 00:21:25.599 sound lasted for maybe ten or fifteen seconds, beginning low 379 00:21:25.680 --> 00:21:28.359 and rising to a peak before trailing off into the 380 00:21:28.400 --> 00:21:32.920 evening air. After it ended, the silence returned, but now 381 00:21:32.920 --> 00:21:37.200 it felt different, not just empty, but expectant, like the 382 00:21:37.400 --> 00:21:41.119 entire valley was waiting for something to happen. I abandoned 383 00:21:41.119 --> 00:21:44.279 my photography session and retreated to my campsite, where I 384 00:21:44.319 --> 00:21:47.799 spent the evening organizing my equipment and reviewing the images 385 00:21:47.839 --> 00:21:51.000 i'd captured over the past few days. I kept my 386 00:21:51.039 --> 00:21:54.200 cameras close at hand, hoping that whatever had made that 387 00:21:54.279 --> 00:21:58.119 sound might present itself for a photo. But as darkness fell, 388 00:21:58.440 --> 00:22:01.240 the only sounds were the distant crew and the occasional 389 00:22:01.319 --> 00:22:05.039 settling of my tent in the light evening breeze. That night, 390 00:22:05.319 --> 00:22:09.079 I had trouble sleeping. Every small sound seemed amplified in 391 00:22:09.119 --> 00:22:12.640 the darkness, the rustle of my sleeping bag, the gentle 392 00:22:12.680 --> 00:22:16.079 flapping of the tent fabric. Even my own breathing seemed 393 00:22:16.160 --> 00:22:20.200 unnaturally loud. I found myself lying awake for long periods, 394 00:22:20.519 --> 00:22:24.640 listening for any indication that something was moving around my campsite. 395 00:22:24.720 --> 00:22:27.240 I must have dozed off sometime around three in the morning, 396 00:22:27.720 --> 00:22:30.000 but I woke up suddenly just before dawn to the 397 00:22:30.000 --> 00:22:33.279 sound of something moving around my tent. At first I 398 00:22:33.319 --> 00:22:35.640 thought it might be the wind, But as I lay 399 00:22:35.680 --> 00:22:39.319 perfectly still and listened more carefully, I realized that something 400 00:22:39.440 --> 00:22:43.720 was walking slowly around my campsite. The footsteps were deliberate 401 00:22:43.759 --> 00:22:46.640