Speaker 1: I never had an experience with Bigfoot, and I don't
expect I ever will, at least not where I live.
But after listening to you recount many stories, I'd like
to share my thoughts with you. You may or may not
have read the books by Carlos Castanetta. In case you haven't,
Castanetta's mentor was a yacky Indian named Don Juan, and
he taught Castanetta sorcery. At least that's what he called
it to begin with. This was to grab Castanetta's attention,
but later he called it knowledge. The second book Castanetta
wrote their Ten of Them is entitled a Separate Reality.
The key to these realities is the ability to stop
the internal dialogue or in other words, the constant chit
chat of thought. If you think about it, we never
stop thinking. Even when we are sleeping, our minds are active. Apparently,
when we stop this internal dialogue, we open the door
to new realities and abilities. So many of the anomalies
surrounding the Bigfoot experience are almost identical to the experiences
Don Juan put Castanetta through, like being frozen to the spot,
or the feeling of being ill, or the now you
see me. Now, you don't type thing that Bigfoot displays.
I can't help thinking that due to the fact that
Bigfoot doesn't have the distractions of the modern world to
fill his or her mind, he or she has these
abilities that Don Juan taught Castanetta. I don't think they
come from other dimensions. Rather, I think some of them
have mastered the art of stopping the world, as Don
Juan calls it, in other words, stopping thinking, and they
can therefore jump from one dimension to another. The reason
I think this is because there are videos of mother
Bigfoots with young ones. If they did come from another dimension,
why on earth would they bring their kids with them.
That doesn't make sense to me. So I think it's
more a case that they're from our world but can
jump into another dimension when cornered. At least some of
them have this stability. And then he goes on the right.
Keep the stories coming, buddy. And by the way, I
love your accent. Oh man, this accent thing. This is
a big deal to get to some people. I don't
know why, but it's just the way we talk down here,
so I can't disguise it anyway. This was an interesting
email and it's not so much that it has to
do with Bigfoot, but it intrigues me about this idea
of being able to stop thinking. I mean, think about that.
Our minds are working all the time. They never stop working.
I never stopped thinking. I think all the time, and
I wonder what it would be like to just in
a conscious way, remain conscious and stop thinking, go into
such a deep meditative state that you actually stop thinking
and kind of go blank for a few minutes. Would
you stop breathing? Would your heart? Would your involuntary organs
stop beating like your heart? Would you stop breathing? I
don't think so, they're involuntary, so, but I don't know.
I just don't know what that would lead to, but
it is a fascinating concept. Sometimes. I've read a few
things about this remote viewing phenomenon that I think even
our military has used were people I'm not even sure
exactly what it is. That's how dumb I that's what
a moron I am with this stuff. I don't I
just don't have time to read up on it. But
it's interesting stuff to me, and I myself would love
to be able to just shut my mind down, man,
just for fifteen minutes a day. That would be fantastic.
And I wonder if I did, could I transport myself
to another place? Maybe not physically, but psychologically go to
another place. I don't know if that's even feasible or not,
but the whole concept is fascinating and if it has
to do with Bigfoot, it would make perfect sense. Now
here's the thing. We can all have opinions on any
of this stuff because none of us know anything about Bigfoot.
And if you think you do know something, you really don't.
You really don't. You're just acting like you do because
we don't know anything about these things, and all opinions
and ideas are up in the air. I mean, we
can come up with anything we want. This one seems
very interesting to me. Hope you guys enjoyed his theory.
Thanks Keith for sending the email. Please accept the following account.
It is true and has turned me from a disinterested
skeptic into a thoroughly fence sitter. All right, here we go,
That's what he writes. All right, here we go. Let
me preface my story by saying that although I grew
up in a suburb of Raleigh, North Carolina, I've always
been a country boy at heart. My paternal grandparents had
a farm in central North Carolina, and when I wasn't there,
I wanted to be. There were rolling hills, creeks, and
milo fields, separated by tracks of hardwoods teeming with squirrels, rabbits,
and quail. Some of the happiest times of my life
were spent on this farm, roaming the woods, camping, hunting,
and fishing. For a young boy who craved adventure, it
was paradise. I would disappear into the woods for days.
Back then, it simply wasn't a big deal for a
young boy to go off camping by himself, as long
as his parents had a general idea as to where
he would be and when he would get back. Looking back,
I was probably safer in the woods on my grandfather's
farm than just about anywhere else. There are no dangerous
animals in this part of the state, and the only
things that caused me concern were ticks, chiggers, and the
occasional copperhead. When I wasn't playing Daniel Boone on the farm,
I would often go on trips with my boy Scout
troop in the nearby Ywary. He spelled it out phanatically
for me, you warri and see I pronounced it wrong.
In the nearby Yuari National Forest, if you aren't familiar
with it, this National Forest is about fifty one thousand acres,
with most of it in Montgomery County. I've hiked a
considerable amount of this forest, sometimes willingly and sometimes begrudgingly,
due to a directionally challenged assistant scout master who we
nicknamed lost Again Lewis Oh. That's so his shortcuts could
turn a five mile day hike into a twenty mile
overnight hike. I mention all this simply to establish that
from an early age I would regularly spend time in
the woods. I'm familiar with the local animals, and I
don't spook easily. Unfortunately, when relating a story such as this,
you feel obligated to qualify yourself in order to preemptively
silence some of the questions from armchair synics. I've never
really understood why, but to me, a lot of the
Yuari National Forest has a foreboding feel. There are places that,
even on a sunny day and winter when all the
leaves have fallen, seem unnaturally dark and sinister. Several books
written by local folkloreist Fred Morgan support this observation and
contain many accounts of disconcerting and often violent events that
have occurred in the area. In early March of twenty twelve,
I had a little time off and I decided to
load up my old land Rover and head out for
a remote camping spot in the northwest Uaris. I've always
preferred to hike, hunt and fish and camp alone. To me,
the solitude is cathartic. To my delight, the campground I
chose was completely deserted. There was a host site that
contained an older travel trailer, but its condition indicated that
it was abandoned. I selected a site at the very
end of a loop road, as far from the unoccupied
trailer and as close to the dense woods as I
could get. I planned on being there at least four
or five days, so I set up my large, six
person Cabella's dome tent rather than my smaller backpacking tent.
After eating supper, I decided to turn in early. It
was already getting dark and I was bushed. I settled
into my sleeping bag and turned off my lantern and
was very quickly fast asleep. Around midnight, I was awoken
by a distant howl that my sleep addle mind tells
me is probably a wolf, even though I know there
are no wolves in central North Carolina. In response to
the cry, a pack of dogs began to bay. I
lay still for a few minutes, listening to all the racket,
but soon it died down and all was quiet. Having
heard many odd noises while in the woods, and being
a pragmatic I chuckled to myself and tried to go
back to sleep. My sixth sense was tapping me on
the shoulder in saying that something wasn't exactly right, but
I closed my eyes anyway. Ten to fifteen minutes later,
as I began to drift back to sleep, the howls repeated,
and this time it was closer. Again. It was a
similar cry of a wolf, but the tone wasn't right.
It was lower and deeper. The dogs again reacted with
a chorus of yowling, but they seemed rather far away.
They were reacting to an unknown coller, but they were
not following it, or it had eluded them. At this point,
I was a bit puzzled, but certainly not scared. It
bothered me that I couldn't identify the animal that was
making the yells. But I knew for an absolute fact
that there were no dangerous animals in this part of
the state. Also, I had a pistol on me, and
what were the eyes that this animal, whatever it was,
would come directly to me into my camp. There was
no chance at all. Right, Again, I shrugged and closed
my eyes. This time I fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.
Forty five minutes later, I'm jolted away by a rumbling
bellow that seemed right on top of me, and it
was just as loud, very loud. My first thought, as
I shook the sleep from my head was that someone
outside my tent was roaring at me through a bullhorn.
It was so close, so unidentifiable, and so loud that
I was immediately terrified. Even more disturbingly, as the scream
slowly died out, it was replaced by heavy breathing and
bipedal footsteps in the leaf litter heading towards my tent.
I tried to convince myself that this must be a
person playing a dangerous practical joke, but the steps were
much too heavy. I remember having the bizarre thought that
this prankster must be stomping around with anvils tied to
their shoes, and that absurd idea made me quickly realize
that this was no prank. There was an exceptionally large
and angry animal outside my tent, and I had no
idea what it was. Sitting up but still halfway in
my sleeping bag, I slowly and quietly scooched to the
middle of the large tent, ridiculously believing that somehow being
in the center would provide some safety. I quietly grabbed
my compact nine millimeter out of my duffel bag, and
I slowly flipped the safety and I listened. When you're
truly frightened, you feel flushed. Your senses seemed to sharpen,
and time appears to slow down. I could hear every
leaf and twig that broke under this creature's feet as
it approached. I also vividly recall turning my head towards
the oncoming noise, and with each footfall, seeing small ripples
being created and a half empty bottle of water across
the dark tent, exactly like in the first Jurassic Park movie.
Options ran through my mind. I could yell out and
hope that whatever this was would be startled and leave.
I could step out of the tent and confront it.
I could remain quiet and see what happened. I had
no idea what was outside, so I decided to sit
still and wait. The footsteps were getting closer, but they
slowed in pace. They stopped at what I guess would
be about ten feet away from my tent. I had
my pistol pointed in this thing's direction, and I was
debating whether to fire off a couple of blind rounds
through the tent wall. I'm very conscious about gun safety
and would normally never consider this, but abject terror can
result in bad decisions. In retrospect, I genuinely believe that
had this creature taken another couple of steps towards me,
I would have emptied the clip. Thankfully I didn't. The
animal was now standing still, and it began making an
odd snuffling sound that led me to believe it was
smelling the air. It reminded me of a pig running,
only deeper, and it was all followed by a long
and heavy excel. The animal was a few feet outside,
sniffing and grunning and snorting, trying to determine its next step,
and I was sitting in the middle of the tent,
sweating and horrified, with a death grip on my little pistol.
This went on for what seemed like several minutes, though
more likely it was only thirty to forty seconds. I
was so tense that my arm holding the pistol began
to shake, and I felt like I was going to hyperventilate.
I felt that I was close to a physical and
mental breaking point, and I knew that I desperately needed
for this to end. After a few more frantic seconds
of thought, I realized that, for good or bad, I
must try to take control of the situation. I resolved
to quietly slip out of my sleeping bag, slit open
the back tent, and jump out, ready to shoot. I
made a bit of noise while trying to slide my
legs out of the sleeping bag, and the animal let
out a grunt that almost sounded like a question. There
was an upward inflection at the end of the noise
that made me think it might have been confused. Looking back,
I believe it may not have been certain that I
was in the tent until I heard the movement. I froze,
and for a few more seconds there was an absolute
and terrifying silence. Then there was a deep in what
I imagined to be a derisive grunt. It sounded like a
bull snorting, but seemed to have an almost cynical tone.
It then began to stomp off in the direction from
which it came, grunting loudly with every step. As this
thing trudged off, I heard a loud cracking sound, as
if a large tree branch was being broken, and then
another deafening roar, the sound of something being dragged in
the leaves, and heavy footsteps continued to move away. I
stayed perfectly quiet until I couldn't hear it any longer,
and then I took a deep breath to relieve some
of the stress in my body. I was still on alert,
but slowly beginning to relax a little. After a few
more minutes of silence, I decided that the animal was
probably gone, but there was no way that I was
going to spend the rest of the night in that flimsy,
nih line tent. I grabbed my car keys and stealthily
unzipped the tent and crept to my vehicle. My pistol
was still in my hand. I would drive to the
closest town, find a well lit parking lot, and sleep
in my car. Tomorrow I would go back to collect
my gear. So I fired up my rover and turned
on the headlights, and to my horror, there was a
large tree limb about ten feet in front of the
truck blocking my exit. It was big enough that I
don't think I could drive over it without doing some
significant damage to my vehicle, but it was not so
large that I couldn't drag it partially out of the
way and drive around it. I decided, however, that I
wasn't going to get out of my car until daylight.
I turned off the lights, I lowered my seat all
the way back, I rolled my window down about a
half inch so I could hear, and I turned off
the ignition. The rest of the night is a blur
to me. Now. I didn't go back to sleep, but
there were times that I wasn't completely awake either. I
would start to not off, but my mind would not
allow it. Thankfully, nothing else happened, and at first light
I was able to break camp and move the tree
branch enough to get my vehicle out. When I returned home,
my wife immediately asked why are you back so soon?
I didn't want to lie, but I simply couldn't figure
out a way to explain what had happened without sounding
like a lunatic. So I just made up a story
about not realizing that there was no self service, that
I didn't feel comfortable being out of touch with her
for four or five days. Again, before this incident, I
had no real interest in cryptids. However, I immediately began reading
everything I could on them, focusing on reports from the
Yuari region. To my great surprise, I found several accounts
from this area, including a rather famous one. I learned
that I was remarkably close to the sighting made by
Michael Greene I think that's his name, who at the
time was involved with the BFRO in North Carolina, and
who had recorded thermal video of a humanoid figure snatching
a candy bar from the top of a tree stump
at a family gathering. Not long afterwards, my maternal grandmother,
who grew up just outside the northwest boundary of the forest,
became upset when she was told I had been camping
there alone. She said that I shouldn't go there by myself,
and it was too dangerous. Well, When I asked her why,
she wouldn't give me a straight answer. She would simply repeat,
just don't go there alone. You should not go there alone.
I'm still not convinced that I had an encounter with
the hairy linebacker, but I don't know what animal walks
on two feet and causes the ground to vibrate, roars
louder than a lion, and breaks tree limbs. If you
can come up with one, please let me know. However,
I didn't actually see anything, and the more practical side
of me believes that there must be a rational explanation.
If it was a bigfoot, then I'm glad I didn't
see it, and I'm very happy not having a close
up image of that ugly mug in my head. The
event alarmed me enough that I didn't go into the
woods for a while, but I couldn't stay away for long.
I gave away my tents, I bought some larger guns,
and eventually I purchased a small travel trailer. When I'm
out overnight. Now I sleep like a baby. Maybe it's
a false sense of security, but helps were made