Speaker 1: I live in Kluyd County in North Wales, United Kingdom.
I'm lucky to live in such a beautiful place, surrounded
by hills and woodland and an abundance of farms. We
also have a lot of paved roads that lead to
the more secluded areas. There was a spot on one
of these narrow roads to nowhere that I and my
friend Scott liked to go where we could chill out
and enjoy some good banter and good chap. The spot
we frequented was a lay by about a third of
the way up a damaged road with a steep incline
and many hairpin turns as it snaked in an s
up the side of a small mountain. The road was
edged with forty to fifty foot conifers, some ash in
a few large oaks. Just off the road was a
large piece of woodland. I say large because on our
tiny island, three hundred acres is large. On this stretch
of where there are no street lights. Homes were few
and far between and were in set back, so any
lights from them didn't reach the road. It was dark
as dark can be out there at night. One fall evening,
Scott and I visited our usual spot with another friend
we called Jack. We had been there maybe an hour,
paying no mind to any of the surrounding area outside
of the white ninety two Nissan Murker we had bundled into.
We were laughing and having a good time, just enjoying
each other's company. We hadn't even noticed how quiet the
woods were. Suddenly the inside of the car went silent
as well. Everyone stopped talking and Scott reached past the
steering wheel to silence the radio. We were all sure
we had heard something really close. A thud made me
wind down the window on the passenger side to listen.
That was when I realized I couldn't hear anything in
the woods. We have an abundance of why life in
this area, another reason I feel so lucky to live here.
There are rabbits and squirrels, red fox, badger, deer owls,
and other birds of prey like kite and buzzards. At
that moment, none of them were making a sound. Not
even the insects could be heard. The only noise that
broke the silence was the light rustling that was coming
from a field that was situated up a steep embankment
just to our left. It was coming from the other
side of the field. We thought nothing of it until
we heard another thud right next to my open window.
A rock the size of a small melon had been
thrown with great power and even more impressive accuracy towards
us and landed a couple of feet short of the vehicle.
It hit the ground so violently that I was sprayed
with muddy rain water right into my face. That was it.
My window came up. Not that a window would have
stood a chant against a rock that size, but it
made me feel better knowing there was something between us
and whatever had just hurled a thirty pound rock. We
were considering our options, which in all honesty shouldn't have
taken as long as it did. It was obvious that
we should have just gotten the heck out of Dodge
at that very moment, but for some reason we stalled
on making our getaway. I looked up and out of
the front window, and then quickly hushed the others, telling
them to look dead ahead. Our car was pointed as
though we would drive straight up the hill to the
next hairpin that was perhaps fifty feet away. The inclined
put the gravel level at about ten to twelve feet
higher than we were. We all saw it. Rather, we
saw its eyes, two big, round, amber colored eyes, hovered
about six inches apart and what I estimated to be
some eleven feet off the ground. This thing must have
been immense in height and stature. I have always been
a bit big for my boots, with a chip on
my shoulder, A naturally brave person. It helps, being five
foot ten and two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle
from manual farm work and many hours in the gym.
Jack isn't a small guy either, standing six feet tall
and weighing around two hundred and fifteen pounds, but Scott
was a mere five ten and one hundred and seventy pounds.
Being the brave boy I am, I got out of
the car to get a better look. Scott and Jack
were both yelling, what the hell are you doing? Jake,
come back, get back in here. We need to leave.
I gave them a soft hush and started to slowly
make my way up towards the eye shine. Maybe I
was hoping it was an owl perched on a low branch.
As I got nearer, I realized this wasn't the case.
I started to make out the creature's outline, and as
I did, I stopped dead in my tracks. This thing
was enormous. I was now maybe thirty feet away from it,
and I could see that it had short but very
thick legs, a long body, and thick long arms. If
it had a neck, it was half an inch long.
Either that or its shoulder muscles were the size of
a grown pig. It was easily ten or eleven feet
tall and four to five feet wide at the shoulders.
I just stared as it made a low huff with
every breath. That was when I turned from a big,
brave boy to a scared little girl and started walking
backwards towards the car. I got back in and quietly
said drive. There was a pause before he reacted, but
before Scott could turn the key in the ignition, we
heard another thud. There was another rock, slightly smaller than
the last, and it had been thrown and fell just
shy of the vehicle. This time, I screamed at Scott,
just drive, Scott, and he did. Never before has a
one thousand cc hatchback been driven so quickly. Fair play
to Scott for the previous unseen skill. Thinking about it now,
I don't think whatever this creature was wanted to hurt us.
It just wanted us to go. Mission accomplished and we
got out, Nor did we return to this spot for
several weeks. I had another encounter with this thing, and
it happened some months later in a different area of
our surrounding woodlands, but only two miles or so from
the spot I visited with Scott and Jack. I was
hiking alone in the springtime near a derelic castle called
gerich Garrick Castle. I'm sure I got that wrong. It
has been long abandoned, though many attempts have been made
to restore the castle. It was in the middle of
the afternoon, with many hours of daylight left. I'd heard
stories of dogs going missing here, but I figured they
just ran off and never found their owners, as it
is a large area. However, I found evidence to suggest otherwise.
I came across a small black fur At first I
thought it was a locals farm sheep that had strayed
and perhaps caught its wool on the brush. As I
got closer, I realized it was fur and not wool.
A little further up the trail I found some more
a lot more a full labrador's coat of black fur.
There were a few bones lick clean. Some had been splintered,
as if bitten with great force. I started to get
the feeling that I was being watched. That's when I
heard a loud wood on wood not I shot to
an upright stance and stared intently in the direction from
which it came. But I saw nothing. After my previous
encounter several months earlier, I wanted nothing to do with this.
I turned back into the frightened little girl again. I
spun around and high tailed it back down the trail
and broke the tree line faster than I knew I could. Lily, Hush, Lily,
quick barking, Lily, Oh my gosh, this dog. That's my
little pug. She won't shut up. She barks at everything.
I'm sorry to interrupt this story. I spun around and
tailed it back down the trail and broke from the
tree line faster than I knew I could. I've told
no one about these two encounters until now. Neither Scott
nor Jack have spoken of it either. I didn't even
tell them about the second encounter, nor have I had
another encounter or seen any signs of it since in
my mind. There's nothing that is going to tell me otherwise.
Although I thought bigfoot Sasquatchannetti lived in North America and Russia,
I know now that they are on UK soil as well.
Bigfoot lives in my town discreetly and quietly, without being
seen or heard by the majority of people. I hope
to God that it stays that way. I grew up
in North Texas, where my dad, my brother, and I
used to chuckle about my grandmother always talking about Bigfoot.
She was from Oklahoma. Although we have no records to
prove it, we believe she was Choctaw Indian. Her name
was Annis Nation. We always thought she was off her rocker.
That is until one weekend when I was in high school,
I went deer hunting with my dad and brother. We
were out at a deer lease just west of Jacksonboro, Texas.
Dad had his truck and we were staying in one
of those pop up crank style campers. Each end of
the camper folded out, forming the twin sized beds where
we slept. The walls, if they could be called that,
were made of heavy duty cellophane style plastic. They were
not clear, which allowed for little privacy, but in the evening,
light and motion could be seen inside the camper. We
didn't have much luck hunting our last day there, so
we all crashed relatively early. Dad was sleeping at one
end and my brother and I were sleeping at the other.
Sometime in the night, I was awakened when I felt
the camper shake a little. My Dad and brother were
both sound sleepers, I'm not. It took a moment to
register that I had felt something, but it was late,
and I was tired, and I was only half awake.
I blew it off and tried to go back to sleep.
A few minutes later, the camper shook violently. This time
I was wide awake. I looked around me as an
uneasy feeling crept over me. I was trying to figure
out what could have made the camper shake. When it
shook again. I was mentally searching for an explanation while
trying to contain my panic. When it shook a third time.
Every few seconds. Now it was rocking as some some
one we're trying to get the last nut out of
the bag of airplane peanuts. Uneasiness jumped to fear when
I saw the silhouette of something on the side of
the camper, perfectly outlined by the full moon, was something ginormous.
I could clearly see the shape of its head on
top of its massive shoulders that had to be five
or six feet wide. The top of the camper was
eight feet tall. We were all well over six feet tall,
and we could all stand easily inside the camper. Add
to that fact that it sat a couple of feet
off the ground. But the head on this silhouette outside
of the camper was at the top of the camper
when it pressed up against the camper, as if it
were trying to see in. I glassed at my brother
next to me and my dad across the way. I
was mortified to see that they were both sleeping like
babies through the whole thing. I was too terrified to
move or make a sound. There were several thirty six
rifles close by, but I sincerely believe none of them
would put a dent in that thing. All I could
do was lie there and hope that it would eventually
go away. I guess it finally decided there wasn't anything
of interest inside the camper, at least not anything worth
tearing it open to get at, and it wandered off,
not seeing it didn't provide the relief one might expect.
I was awake until daybreak That morning. I went out
and looked around where it had been standing. There was
a greasy face print on top of the plastic covering.
I didn't mention it to my dad or my brother,
and that was the last time I ever went honting.
There are still many things in this world that we
don't know about. Bigfoot is one of them. With tens
of thousands of encounters, we can't all be mistaken or lying.
If the government knows about them and comes out and
says they are real, it will cause a lot of problems,
affect everything from the national parks to the oil and
timber industries. I also believe some of these things are
dangerous and have killed people. But if the government doesn't
know about them or doesn't admit they exist, how many
more people will die? I have a couple of pretty
tame encounters I'd like to share. In twenty fifteen, I
moved to Montana. I'd always loved the idea of living
in the mountains and exploring in nature. By twenty and sixteen,
i'd finally become a resident and was chomping at the
bit to go on my first deer hunt up in
Little Bear Canyons south of Bozeman. I'd driven up the
ten mile access road using my spotting scope. Along the way,
i'd spotted a really nice buck mule deer along with
a few dos up on the side of Wheeler Mountain.
I parked at the base, partially blocking an ATV trail
to let people know the area was occupied. I walked
for about a mile and then tested the wind. I
figured if I went straight for them, they'd catch my
scent and my hunt would be over for the day.
I decided to make my way around the mountain above
them and come down from the top. After about three
hours of stalking carefully making sure not to spook anything
else that would alert the deer to my presence, I
finally made it to the top. It was very thickly
forced it to one side, so I decided to stick
close to that tree line for cover while I worked
my way down to the deer. When I got to
thirty yards from the trees, I began hearing some kind
of grunting. I stopped, thinking maybe it was a bear
or some other large creature. I couldn't make out the
sound very well, but whatever it was definitely new. I
was there and was walking towards it. I took a
knee and I listened. It had grunted off and on
for about five minutes when I heard what sounded like
a large branch breaking. Now I was thinking it might
be a moose. Everything went dead silent. I checked the
place where I'd last seen the deer to see if
they were still there, and they were, but now they
were looking in my direction. I remained down on one knee,
not moving in an inch, and began slowing my breath
to try to keep calm. I thought whatever it was
would looten's interest in me and move off. I looked
back over the tree line, squinting to try and locate
the source of all the noise. The sun was up
all the way by now, warming my cheeks against the
frosty air. It was seven am. Shadows were casting everywhere
in the forest. Another five minutes passed since I'd heard
the limb snap, and I hadn't seen anything else, so
I turned my attention back to the deer. I didn't
want to walk into the forest after all that noise,
so I looked for a different route to get down
to them. I saw one game trail that was my
best bet, and, due to the fresh layer of snow
that had fallen that morning, my least slippery option. Unfortunately,
it took me closer to the thick forest. With my
hand resting on the grip of my side arm, I
started walking towards the trail. I was only ten yards
from the trees when a perfectly healthy, maybe eight inch
in diameter lodge pole pine fell across the trail that
I was planning to take. At this point, I was
feeling nervous, so I decided maybe something or someone was
just saying this isn't your day. And since sound of
the crashing tree had sent the deer bounding over the
next ridge, I made the decision to not test whatever
it was stopping me. I turned around and went back
to my truck, following the same way that I had
come in. I have a great respect for nature and conservation.
I've hunted deer since I've been old enough to hunt
on my own, and I listened very closely to what
nature tond El Meet in twenty fifteen, and I only
moved to Montana also got my CDL. Needless to say,
I've spent a lot of time trucking in Montana, and
here's my second encounter. At the beginning of twenty nineteen,
in early February, I was asked to hol a load
of hay down to Utah Idaho state line. The weather
was bad the night before, so I decided to leave
a couple hours later than usual to allow the road
crews time to stand the roads. It was nine eighteen am,
and I will never forget it. I was almost thirty
miles south of Enis, Montana, going about forty five miles
an hour. The roads were still a little slick, and
I was taking my time in being careful. I was
almost to the point where the road parallels to Madison River.
As I rounded the bend, I looked down into the
clearing across the river, and there it was. It was
about one hundred and fifty yards from the road, covered
in black hair from head to toe. It was walking
back towards the forest, but it stopped and turned to
look back at me. Its shoulders were extremely broad and
it was incredibly tall. Its hair was blowing in the
wind that was coming off the canyon. I had a
perfect view of it. There was no question about what
I was seeing. There was a small mound up ahead
that was going to block my view for a split second,
so I slowed down. When I came to the mound,
I decided if I saw it again on the other side,
I was going to stop and try to take a picture.
And it was still there, but running towards the forest. Now,
by the count of three, it had covered the roughly
two hundred yards from the river to the forest, and
it was gone. I called a friend of mine who
lives in Indiana. First. He's a strong believer in bigfoot,
and I told him what I saw. He said, finally,
I'm not alone. I've always loved movies and stories about bigfoot.
My wife and I often talked about the possibilities of
seeing one. She's somewhat of a believer, so I called
her next. I had debated about telling her for a
good reason, and our conversation went something like this, good morning, darling,
You'll never believe what I just saw. Really, what did
you see? I finally saw a bigfoot? She started to
laugh at me. Yeah, right, No, seriously, Look, I want
to believe you. Any other time I would have if
you hadn't been watching Bigfoot documentaries all weekend. Crickets started chirping.
We love to go back to this conversation. We like
to tease each other about it, but I don't think
she will ever believe me until she sees one for herself. Unfortunately,
we may never go back to where I saw it.
We recently moved to Texas from my work. Hopefully, one day,
on one of our mountain excursions, we will get another
glimpse at one of these amazing creatures. Mhm