Speaker 1: Okay, y'all, is a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I'm about
to read this story, and my dog just shitting the
floor in my office here. She's got runny poops, so
if you hear me, just ignore it. It smells horrible
in here. Plus A, I've got about fifteen hens on
my porch. I have my door open, so you may
hear some noise from them. I don't know. None of
this means anything, but I'm just letting you know what
I go through to get these stories out. Plus, it's
a beautiful day and I need to be outside working
in my yard so my wife won't be mad at me.
But I'm in here doing this because I really want
to get a podcast out this afternoon. Somebody pat me
on the back and say, it'll be okay, Cam, It'll
be okay. Just read the story. The writer on this
story again wants to be anonymous, and here's what he writes.
This happened in late julye just after they cut the
hay and the round bells had been taken, and there
was a short grass. It's an excellent opportunity to shoot coyotes.
My dog was lying a few yards away from me,
in a mowed down path to the creek. She was
lying in my overgrown food plot. The Johnson grass had
since taken over and it was a good six feet tall.
While she slept, I was watching the hayfield from my
side beside. Now, I had my ten twenty two with
me with a full magazine. I've had that twenty two
since I was fourteen. Most folks don't think of twenty
two is a good weapon for taking coyotes, but it
shot straight and I've taken codies with it in the past.
It was late in the evening and the sun had
gone down, but I could still see My dog woke
up and started turning circles and barking and looking straight
up into the trees. Her head was twisted and turning
as she looked up, and then I heard growls and
foot stomping and the trees moving ten feet up. I
stood up to yell at my dog to quit, and
hit the horn in the process, which added to the confusion.
Knock it off, I yelled at her, and in response,
she took off for the house. Well. I yelled at
her again as she passed me to cross the creek.
And I think if dogs could talk. I'm guessing by
the look on her face, she would have said, screw you, buddy,
I'm out of here. So I sat back down and
I tried to regain my composure. I was there for
a long time, watching the trees and trying to see
what she saw, and whatever it was never made another
sound or appearance. It was getting even darker out, so
I started up my side by side and headed across
the creek. Patience is a virtue. I yelled back over
my shoulder to the thing in the trees, and then
I gave my side by side all the gas it
would take, and I headed for home. My bird dog
was sitting on the porch, shivering and waiting for me
when I got there. And for the next couple of weeks,
me and the dog would go back down to the
other side of the creek to watch the hayfield for coyotes.
She wouldn't lie down at the other end of the
trail anymore. Instead, she'd lie behind me at the crossing point,
where she'd slept until the sun started getting low. Every
time we had an encounter, she would wake up, raise
her head and sniff the air, and run like hell
for the house. After she would leave and it was dark,
branches would start breaking on the creek behind me. I
took my brother in law down there once to experience it,
and we heard what sounded like rocks clacking, her teeth
clashing together, and it sounded like it was forty or
fifty yards away. The last time it happened, I put
my dog in the side by side with me and
I headed down there, and I parked where I always did,
away from the creek facing the hayfield. I wouldn't let
her get out, and as it got dark, she raised
her nose and then tried to bust out of the
side by side, and I grabbed a patch of hair
and held on to her for as long as I could.
You're not leaving me alone out here again, I said,
as I struggled to keep her in place. She kept
fighting me until I had to let go, and I
was afraid if I didn't, she'd get out anyway, and
I'd be left with just a patch of hair and
skin in my hands. She was fighting that hard, and
she ran like the devil across the creek and headed
straight back to the house. I stayed down there as
long as I could. Branches were breaking up and down
the creek behind me, and the rock clashing didn't happen
this time, but I was done anyway. I got the
buggy across the creek and I raced home. My dog
was waiting on the porch for me, as usual, shivering.
Another two weeks of this, and the grass was getting
tall again and the encounters stopped. I got on the
internet and I started listening to stories. Things in the
past started to make sense to me, and I remembered
years ago walking down there, and movement caught my own
the creek bank. I thought I saw a small monkey
climbing the bank with its arms and legs, heading for
the Johnson grass to find cover, and I went across
to where it came out, but I didn't find anything,
so I wrote it off as my eyes playing tricks
on me. That's just one of the many strange occurrences
I've had along that creek. I don't think they're mean
or want to hurt me. They've had too many opportunities
to do me in if they wanted to. Okay, that
was pretty good. That was a good story. I don't again.
The last podcast I did had two stories in it
about people who had feelings they sensed something around them,
And I guess that's a few of people who commented
in the comment section where you know those feelings are valid.
When you feel those feelings, you need to get out
of there. Maybe so, maybe not. I don't really trust
my feelings. That's just me. I kind of trust what
I can see and what I don't see. But back
to this story, I mean, this man never saw anything
when he was younger. He did see a monkey, something
that looked like a monkey going over the bank. But
you know what could that have been? Could it have
been a dog. I'm just playing Devil's advocate here because
I think this makes him real nervous when he goes out.
And if you ever hear me talk about these things,
I really want to encourage people not to be afraid
to go in the woods. There's really nothing to be
afraid of. And the reason I say that is of
all the hundreds of bigfoot encounters that I've gotten, nobody
ever gets hurt. Nobody gets hurt. We had one story
where a guy rode in and he claims a bigfoot
killed his grandfather. I think it's like the fifth or
sixth video I ever did. But other than that nobody.
They don't. Not only do they not get killed or taken,
they don't get hurt. So and I know there's people
out there who will go well, if you get taken,
there's no one there to write the story. And you've
got a point there. But I just don't think people
should be afraid to go in the woods. I know
that's going to make a lot of people mad, but
it's my position and I respect your position if you
think they shouldn't, and I want you to respect mine
when I think they should go in the woods, because
it's a wonderful place to be to go out in
the wilderness, especially alone, and you don't have to go
into these wildernesses that are fifty miles away from everything.
Just walk out in the woods, find some place of
state park or something, walk around trails, walk in the woods.
It really is a good experience. So uh huh, okay,
Well that's my pits for going in the woods. But
be careful and be alert when you're there. There's snakes
and depending on where you are, there are predators in
the North American woods, not where I live, but they
are there. Enjoy the woods. That's all I'm saying. So
I'm in my sixties and I'm battling with the MS,
and I've decided to share my experiences before it's too late.
Perhaps my encounters will benefit someone, and if so, then
my time writing this has not been wasted. I was
raised on a farm and cattle operation in Utah in
the sixties and seventies. Our land was adjacent to foothills
that led up into a range of the Rocky Mountains,
where I spent every possible hour on horseback or hiking
or backpacking. I log several hundred nights camping out during
my teens, in twenties and thirties, and even into my forties.
It came with the territory of my outdoor life. Being
out of doors every day from my childhood onward gave
me a tremendous education about the natural world, and I
was into familiar with every species of tree, all plants
and wildflowers, and every type of bird that inhabited our region,
and of course every mammal that lived in these valleys
and mountains. I grew up fly fishing and hunting waterfowl,
upland birds and varmints and big game, which took me
into some of the most beautiful and remote country imaginable.
I mentioned these things so you'll understand my familiarity with
every living thing, from the western deserts to Utah Red
Rock country and the alpine peaks of the highest mountains.
In all that time that I spent outdoors, I never
had any calls for fear, nor did I see or
experience anything unusual. And then one August evening in two
thousand and four, my fly fishing partner and I decided
to stay out and watch the persed meteor shower at
Strawberry Reservoir. We were excited to see the spectacle because
of the clear skies and there would be no moonlight,
no light pollution. We launched our float tubes into the
water shortly before dark to enjoy some fly fishing and stargazing.
Perhaps an hour into the meteor shower, we both suddenly
noticed something massive walking along the shoreline on all fours.
Its silhouette instantly reminded me of a polar bear, with
its huge hindquarters taller than its front shoulders, and its
head was small for its body size. That was Garganchewan.
We were way too close to the shore for comfort
and paddled into the safety of deeper water as quickly
as possible, and we both experienced a sense of dread
and terror. What was this giant thing? It was several
times larger than the biggest black bear we had ever seen,
and Utah doesn't have grizzly bears, which are not that large. Anyway,
we observed the creature for a couple of minutes until
it walked into the darkness and left the salone in
the lake. Yeah, we were both terrified, knowing that eventually
we'd have to get out of the water and run
up the hill to the suv. We had no explanation
for what we saw, and back then I'd never heard
of bigfoot walking on all fours, and since that time,
I've read numerous accounts of people seeing these things down
on all fours. It's the only answer I can come
up with to account for the massive size of the
animal we witnessed. The experience we had on Strawberry that
August night was a precursor for the year of two
thousand and five, where everything changed and my life has
never been the same since a doorway was open somehow
to extraordinary strangeness that I never asked for, didn't seek
and I can't seem to escape. As this is the
one and only time I will record and recount these experiences,
I will do my best to give you a detailed
account of what happened in our lives during two thousand
and five and subsequent to that time. It all began
innocently enough on a late winter day when my wife
and I decided to go for a drive to town
to get a taco for lunch. On the return trip,
we were two blocks south of main street in our
small town when suddenly a dog of some kind with short,
dark gray hair walked out into the street in front
of us. It was on two legs, and I slammed
on the brakes as we watched this thing cross the
road in disbelief. It ran into someone's yard on two
legs and went into the shrubbery out of sight. We
were speechless, what the hell was that. We went home
and I got online, and it didn't take long to
find numerous images and videos of these same dogs walking
upright all over the southwest of the United States and
down into Mexico. Some people refer to them as chupacabras.
All I know is that we were both very upset
by what we witnessed. A few weeks later, it was
time for another friend and I to go on our
first jeep expedition of the season, and we headed south
toward Utah's San Rafael Swell. It's some of the most
remote country in the lower forty eighths, and on the
way we passed through San Pete Valley, where the second
strange encounter took place. At the north end of the valley,
there is a small town called Melbourne, and just as
we turned off the highway to head toward Melbourne, there
was a huge black figure standing in low sagebrush and
cheek grass at perhaps sixty yards away. I brought the
jeep to a halt. We both stared at this thing
with a very broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks.
We weren't close enough to make out any facial features,
but could see the glistening black hair that covered this
being in a conical shaped head, a barrel chest, long
arms and narrow waist, and massive legs. Time stopped as
we watched this thing for a few seconds, and then
it turned its body to the south, took two and
a half steps, and then it vanished. There was nowhere
for it to hide. It didn't dash to a tree
for cover or drop to the ground. It was midway
into its third step, with one leg raised in its
foot up off the ground when it completely disappeared. It
wasn't as though we watched it step into some unseen
doorway where you'd observe the front part of the creature
disappear followed by its backside. Not at all. It totally
vanished in one instant of time in mid stride. You
can imagine the fear that swallowed us, knowing that we
had to drive down the road where this thing was
headed when it vanished. At that time, I had never
researched anything about bigfoot, though I was certainly familiar with
the claims of those who had seen those things. I
didn't know there was a rich collection of encounters with
these things vanishing from sight. But we both saw it
in one moment, and the next it was gone. After
the event concluded, we compared notes and both felt like
it was nine feet tall, and it weighed perhaps as
much as six hundred pounds, maybe more. It didn't make
any aggressive movements toward us, However, we both felt a
deep foreboding sense of evil. We couldn't shake that horrible feeling,
and we decided to postpone our jeep adventure for another time.
The next in our series of life changing events occurred
during the spring when we were doing some landscaping work
in our yard. We lived a couple of miles outside
of town and didn't have any close neighbors at the time.
I hesitate to record this incredibly strange event because no
one will believe me, and still it's the most disturbing
of the events of two thousand and five, and to
leave a full and honest account, I'll tell you this
part of my story. It still turns me inside out
when I think about it. My oldest son was seventeen
at the time, and he was helping me with some
landscaping work. We stopped for lunch, and while I was
eating a sandwich in the house, I was looking into
the backyard at our project and deciding what would work
on next, when I saw a male American kestrel hawk
flying toward a river birch tree in the back corner.
But something was wrong with a bird, and I thought
it was perhaps injured due to its erratic flight. Rather
than landing in the tree. The small and colorful hawk
landed on the ground where we had been planting some
barberry bushes, and it started moving its wings in a
strain's unnatural way. And the next thing I knew, this
bird pushed its wings up and away from its body
in a manner that would be impossible for any bird
to do, and then I was looking at something other
than the hawk. More than sixteen years have passed since
this event occurred, and I no longer remember the exact
order of what I witnessed. But over the next several
minutes I observed this thing changed shapes into a rabbit
with badly deformed ears, a squirrel that was incorrectly formed,
then a weasel, a marmot, a badger, each of which
was anatomic incorrect. At the same time as I witnessed
this event, I was suddenly sick to my stomach and
filled with nausea and a violent headache. The badger jumped
down from the retaining wall and went over to a
hole in the field. My son came up stairs at
that point, and I asked him to keep watching the
hole while I went over there. I went through the
garbage and I picked up a stout club I carried
with me, and when I got to the hole, nothing
was there, and I retreated to the couch, where I
rested for a few hours to recover. Later research uncovered
a material known as black goo or programmable matter that
might account for what I saw. Perhaps it was something
from the military or the deep state. I don't know.
Debilitating nausea continued for the next couple of weeks anytime
I went outside near where I had seen that thing.
Perhaps it was some kind of radioactivity. The next two
events occurred on the same day. I was fly fishing
with my partner at a different still water known as
Schofield Reservoir. It was a gorgeous late spring day and
the fishing was good. The sky was a stunning azure blue,
with white, fluffy clouds hanging low in the sky. At
one point I looked almost straight above me and gasped
at seeing a very large silver sphere in the sky
that appeared to be covered in radio towers. It was
not very high above me, as it was hovering between
two of the low hanging clouds, and as soon as
I saw it, the thing rapidly ascended and was gone
from sight in mere moments. And then on my way home,
As we left the mountains and reached Highway six, we
both saw a glow bowing orange ORB coming toward us
in the opposite lane of traffic. My friend commented that
it was about the size of a basketball. We watched
it pass us and turned to watch it go behind us,
but it disappeared. Later that summer, my friend would go
fishing at Indian Creek Bay on Strawberry Reservoir, where he
saw two orbs the same evening. Our lives were becoming
very weird. What in the world was happening to us? Well,
this story is becoming so long, so I'll skip the
next orb story. It's not that critical. We finally reached
July fourth, after all the activities of the day, my
wife and I were sitting on the back patio watching
fireworks in the town's east of where we lived. We
had an unobstructed view for many miles in every direction,
and after the fireworks ceased, we sat there enjoying the
cool of the evening until almost midnight, when she grabbed
my arm and said, what is that pointing up at
the sky about halfway between our home and the mountains
to the east. Neither of us spoke for a few
minutes as we observed a huge, triangular shaped craft moved
silently across the sky. It had running lights along the
top and bottom edge of the side we could see,
and once it passed, we could see the back end,
which also had running lights. It continued moving north until
we lost sight of it. We were both two small
town kids that couldn't understand why these inexplicable things were
happening to us. But that was not the last unidentifiable
thing we saw flying in the skies that year, but
it was the most remarkable one we saw. Sometime in
August of two thousand and five, my fishing partner called
me late one evening and said to go outside and
look above the prominent mountain our valley. Well. I did so,
and to my surprise, there was a new, very bright
star in the sky we had never seen before, and
it was flashing colors at an immense rate of change.
My friend had the latest and most powerful camera with
a fantastic zoom lens, and he filmed the star, which
not only flashed colors we couldn't name, but changed shapes
each time it flashed. We watched it in slow motion,
and we were astonished by the revelation of what his
camera brought into focus, and over the years since two
thousand and five, we've witnessed many such anomalies. By late
September of that year, the heat of the summer was
behind us and it was time to attempt the jeep
expedition once again. We made plans to explore a section
of the San Rafael Swell that we had never visited.
On our drive to the Swell, we once again passed
through through San Pete Valley, and of course discussed the
bigfoot siding from the spring. That was not my friend's
first cryptid encounter, as I learned. After we passed the
location of the siding, we both gave an audible sigh
of relief and proceeded on our way. Part Way through
the valley, we decided to explore a range of hills
we'd never visited before, and we pulled onto a gravel
road that led up into the hills. I stopped the
jeep on a bridge over a small irrigation canal as
we looked ahead, trying to decide which way we wanted
to go. It was eleven am and that's when I
noticed movement below me to the left. In my peripheral.
When I looked directly at whatever had moved, I was
instantly paralyzed with fear and incapable of movement or of speaking.
Time absolutely stopped, and I couldn't even breathe. There below me,
kneeling in the canal, was a monster covered in grizzled hair,
a mixture of gray and light brown, with golden yellow
colored eyes that were far apart, and a wide mouth
and narrow lips that were closed tightly together. I could
not look away, and I couldn't move, as time stood
still and I had a long look at this thing.
The hair on its forehead began at the brow ridge
and grew upward on its forehead until it reached the
top of the head that was cone shaped. The hair
was a uniform one inch in length, and the hair
on its face gave it a perfect, full beard that
grew up close to its eyes, leaving only a small
patch of charcoal gray skin around the eyes. It never blinked.
The nose was whiter and flatter than a human nose,
and hair grew across part of its nose. The space
between the bottom of its nose and its upper lip
was much wider than with humans. At least twice as wide,
and even maybe more. The shoulders on this beast were
four feet wide and massive with muscle. The hair was
longer on its shoulders, maybe three or four inches long.
There wasn't much neck to speak of, and it looked
like its head rested on its shoulders. The head was
too small to match the massive shoulders, and its chest
was full and rounded and covered in hair a couple
of inches long. The shoulder muscles and biceps were incredibly huge.
Because of its position in the canal, I couldn't see
its elbows, lower arms, or hands. I also couldn't see
below its chest. I never saw the legs at all.
I have assumed all these years that as I was
parked on the bridge and the motor was running, it
must have disturbed the creature that may have been sleeping
or resting under the bridge, and it came out to
investigate the source of the noise. But I'm just guessing. After
taking a long look at this thing, I finally regained
my composure enough to put the jeep in reverse and
take my foot off the clutch and speed down out
of there. My friend said later he thought I was
going to roll the jeep. He didn't know what I
had seen, but he did see me staring out of
the window. I let out a scream as we back
down the steep road until we reached the pavement and
drove away as fast as the jeep would go. A
couple of miles down the road, I pulled over and
I changed places with my friend, as I was too
impacted by the encounter to drive safely. This time, we
did go to the Swell, but the trip was a
bus for me due to what I had witnessed. What
else did two thousand and five have in store? And
as it turned out, that was not the final strange
experience of the year. But I won't recite another u
UO experience. My poor wife was seeing them in the
mountains by our home and it shook her to her core.
I want to share some observations. Prior to these experiences,
I had never seen anything unusual or out of place
in my outdoor life. Suddenly I knew the truth about
things that most people will never know. Regarding the two
clearly identifiable bigfoot creatures, I've already said that the first
black creature we saw felt intensely evil, but I did
not have the same feeling about the second grizzled one.
Its face was nine feet from my face, but it
never grimaced it me or displayed any threatening behavior. It
could have easily opened its mouth to growl at us
and show us its teeth, but its mouth remained closed. Yes,
I was terrified and petrified with fear from simply seeing
this monster up close, but I didn't feel any fear
being projected from this creature as many people report. If anything,
it seemed to purposefully not do anything to terrorize us whatsoever.
But that being said, I've never been able to bring
myself to visit that bridge again or camp out since
two thousand and five. I still go fly fishing as
often as health permits, but I never go unarmed if
we're off the beaten path. In October of twenty and nineteen,
fourteen years after the bridge siding, I had another bigfoot
encounter at a small lake in northern Utah called Mill Hollow,
where I was fishing by myself. No one else was
at the lake that day. I didn't have a visual
this time, but a mature white fur was pushed over
nearby and the creatures made a sound I can only
describe as a symph the orchestra, with all the strings
and wind and brass instruments striking the same note together,
accompanied by multiple car horns. The intensely loud sound lasted
for a single quarter note. They had my attention, and
I assumed that rather than scream at me, they made
this less threatening sound so as not to alarm the
numerous bull elk that were bugling in the mountains around me.
And I suspected that this was a hunting party and
they wanted me gone. I gathered my fly riots and
other gear, and I left the area. I've read other
accounts of these things making all sorts of sounds, but
I've never heard anyone report them sounding like a symphony orchestra.
And last in February of this year, twenty twenty one,
one night, at twelve thirty am, something slapped the side
of our home so hard that it fell like the
house would come off its foundation. The slat was on
the second floor, on the other side of the wall
from my head. It reverberated through the house, and my
youngest son in the basement called me, wondering what had
just happened. I instantly knew what had happened. One of
the bigfoot creatures that I had encountered, found where I
was living, and must have climbed up to the rock
chimney and let me know that they knew where I
was at. So many people have recorded such events of
being harassed by these creatures that I wasn't surprised, but
I took measures to hopefully keep it from happening again.
And I hate the feeling of being a marked man. Well,
cam that's my story. You're welcome to share it if
you desire. I could share other recent cryptid encounters, but
I'm still trying to make peace with the idea of
the massive upright canine variety. This world is not what
I thought it was growing up on the farm or
during all the years of hunting, fishing, and camping. No,
not at all. We share this world with things that
none of us are prepared for in our pathetic educational system.
For some reason, the door to all these things opened
wide for me in two thousand and five, and it's
never closed since. If I was to recount all of
our strange encounters, it would require another email of this
length or longer. Thankfully, the truth about many of these
topics are coming to light and thanks for allowing me
to get this off my chest. Dixie cryptied his fantastic
thank you, Cam, You're the best, with my kindest regards,
and then he signs off. Well, you know, I'm not
commenting much on the end of these stories, but I
just wanted to tell the man how much I appreciate
him sending this story. This is actually the second version
of it. He had done some editing and found some typos.
You guys don't have to do that. If it's a
little errors you find, don't obsess over these stories. Just
send them on. We take a look at them, we
read them through before we narrate them. But I just
thought this was a fantastic story, and I wanted to
let him know that I know you're battling MS. You're
in your sixties, and your story is out there, and
your time was not wasted. It's very enlightening and entertaining.
So I appreciate the writer. Thank you.