Speaker 1: I live on a short one mile long road in
the Drry Township of Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania. My house sits
at the halfway point of the road, with a few
other neighbors dotted here and there along the way. My
backyard butts up to a large pond in an open field,
and to my chagrin, I have recently discovered that this
part of Pennsylvania is pretty much Sisquat Central. I might
never have bothered to learn this small bit of trivia
if not for what had happened to me on Sunday,
May the ninth, twenty twenty two. At one pm that day,
I took my dogs for a walk. I opted to
walk down the end of the road where a retired
federal government employee lives. That he values his privacy is
evident in the no trespassing signs posted and the fact
that his property is gated. I usually stopped at the
gate and turned around when I choose to walk the
dogs in that direction. I had walked past another home
on the opposite side of the road when I saw
what I thought was my neighbor. Walked from the corner
of his yard and on to the driveway at the
same time, both of my dogs began to react strangely.
They dropped their tails and began to whine and whimper
as they backed away. I stared in amazement as what
I had first taken for a human being crossing the
driveway in two strides. Realization began to set in. This
was not my neighbor. This was not a human being.
This was something seven and a half to eight feet tall,
and it was covered in long, matted, dark brown and
black hair, and it was only fifteen feet away from me.
It never looked at me or in my direction. There
was no accurate smell that so many have talked about,
nor did it make any sounds. It simply crossed the driveway,
which was about two feet wider than a car, and
then it went up a slight embankment and disappeared into
the woods. At this point I still didn't realize, or
perhaps I hadn't accepted the reality that I had seen
a bigfoot. I was surprised and rattled and in denial,
but I couldn't tell you what I was thinking at
that moment, and I wish I could. I was still
holding on to the thought that it was my neighbor,
as I began walking back toward my house. When I
reached the spot where it had stepped into the woods,
I realized there was no earthly reason why anyone would
venture into that heavy thicket. It would be dangerous to
do so, A healthy man would struggle with it, and
someone like my neighbor, who smokes heavily and enjoys his drinks,
would never be able to make it through there. Well,
this is when I began to get nervous. The dogs
had stopped whimpering and whining, but they were in as
much of a hurry to get home as I was.
I kept checking back over my shoulder, but I didn't
see the creature, nor did I hear anything. And when
I realized I didn't hear anything, it occurred to me
that even the birds had gone silent. There were no
normal woodland noises at all. A few days later, I
was able to have a conversation with the man who
owns the property, and I began by saying, so, I
saw something while I was on a walk the other day.
There was a nervous pause while I collected my thoughts.
You're probably going to think I lost my mind. I
began again, did you see bigfoot, he cut in. His
question caught me off guard, and I wasn't expecting that answer,
But I can't say I wasn't hoping for it either,
I believe, so I managed to get out, Have you
seen bigfoot? No? He answered again, not what I was
hoping for, but not entirely unexpected. There isn't much to
tell beyond that it isn't the most exciting story. It
certainly isn't how I imagine things would play out if I
ever saw a bigfoot. But it is what it is,
and I know what I saw. So I started hunting
and fishing when I was ten years old with an
uncle here in the UK, and I've hunted and fished
worldwide ever since. Being in the outdoors is me at
my happiest, even if I don't get anything. I enjoy
stalking deer, working the land, and being selective as to
what I harvest. Everything I harvest is for the pot,
except for the foxes and the rats. As a hunter,
I believe in selective and ethical hunting, and when I
do take a life, I always give the best I
can for a quick, clean kill. I live in England,
but most of my hunting was in Scotland on syndicate
land least from a tree plantation company. The plantation consisted
of mature tree with fire breaks, clear fell and new
plantation with gravel tracks. We were allowed to have a
static caravan on site. Americans call these camping trailers. The
least area was fifteen hundred acres, but next to this
was a further twelve hundred acres of woodland and farmland
that was run by a local and they shot for
driven pheasant. The agreement with the gamekeeper was if we
helped keep the foxes down on the chute by lamping
at night, we would get an invite on the chute
for the end of the season. On keepers Day one
weekend in early October two thousand and four, I arranged
for myself and a friend to go deer stalking. I
was all packed up and ready to go when my
friend called me and said he couldn't come due to
a family emergency, so it was just me and the dog,
which was fine. I set off later than I was
hoping for and on the way up to Scotland, I
got held up even further with road works. The five
hour drive turned into six hours, and when I got
to the trailer in the woodland. It was getting on
for about nine thirty PM and I was losing light.
There was not enough light left to start an evening stalk,
so I made a meal and I thought I would
drive the plantation next door after midnight and see if
I could nail some foxes whilst lamping. For all you
rednecks out there, lamping is what we call shining or spotlight,
but he's doing it legally for foxes and predators, which
is cool. We can't even do that. We can't even
shine a light in a field at night, and the
game war will be on us like white on rice.
But anyway, I digress. It's shining for all the Rednecks.
Just after midnight, I put the dog in the back
of the land rover, set the spotting lamp up, and
headed off with my two forty three. I arrived at
the gate of the plantation and unlocked the gate and
I drove in. It was strange because I've remember a
funny feeling when I opened the gate. I wasn't sure
what it was, but something didn't feel right. I drove
along the mature woodland and I looked down a firebreak
and noticed a bright light in the sky. It was
very bright. I thought it was a satellite off in
the sky. This was looking out the right side of
my car at my three o'clock. I carried on past
the mature trees and I turned right down a track
that opened on some clear fell I expected to see
the light in front of me, but it was still
at ninety degrees to my right, which was strange. I
carried down the track for about three to four hundred
yards and I stopped. I looked at the light and
it was still there, just hanging in the sky. I
put my zeice binoculars on it, and it was hard
to look at due to the brightness. The thing was
a bright silver. It looked like a cylinder on its end,
like you would put a coke can on a table.
I put the rangefinder on it, and it was six
hundred and fifty yards from me. It must have been
twenty five feet long and maybe ten feet in diameter,
and hanging about two hundred feet off the ground. I
could see the trees illuminated by its brightness below. I
carried on down the track and I turned right again.
I was now driving behind it. I stopped and put
the rangefinder on it again, and it was now at
five hundred yards. This thing just hung there. I don't
know what it was, but it made no noise and
it didn't seem to move. I was mesmerized by it.
Fear took over, and I thought it best to move along.
I floored it down the track. The road curved at
the end and joined the original track that I came
in on. I looked out the window and it was
still hanging there. I had driven all the way around it,
and it was always on the right side of the vehicle.
I drove back to my syndicate area and I went
to bed in the caravan. In the morning, I drove
to the next door plantation again about NW and I
looked at the area again and saw no sign of it.
I drove the same route and stopped in the same places,
and I never saw anything strange. A few months later
I told a friend about it, and after he finished
laughing at me and saying it was the moon or
a planet, he asked me why I didn't go closer
to it, or why I didn't take a shot at
it with my rifle. At the time, that never occurred
to me to even think of doing that. And in hindsight,
I wouldn't have done so anyway. It's kind of drummed
into me always to know what I'm shooting at and
never to aim or discharge a rifle above a backstop.
To this day, I don't know what it was. Primeval
fear kept me from getting closer and told me to leave,
and I think a deep, unknown sixth sense told me
something wasn't right when I arrived. I don't know if
it was my eyes playing tricks, but I did get
hits with the rangefinder, so this thing must have been
solid and reflective. It seemed to emit a light, but
it didn't have any lights. I've never seen anything like
it again, nor do I really want to. It would
be interesting if any of your followers have encountered anything
that fits this description. Paul's got another thing he wanted
to share, and I thought this was really good, just
as good as his story. And here's what he writes.
I wanted to give you one more short story that
isn't a Bigfoot story, and it's not really a UFO story.
This is about people who tell about what they have seen.
I've noticed the amount of decent people who are ridiculed
for telling the truth about what they saw, regardless of
whether it can be explained or not. A lot of
these people are well respected professional people who have their
lives really affected by simply telling the truth. And that's
what this story is about. Many years ago, I used
to shoot wildfile and game with a really nice guy.
He had a great sense of humor and the banter
that he gave and was able to take was legendary.
He worked for a local farmer and also was a
part time truck driver, and he worked for various hall
firms in the southeast of the United Kingdom. He was
ex army and served with his original regiment in Germany
and Northern Ireland. Then needed more of a challenge and
went for the parachute Regiment. You have to be a
tough bastard to get in that also, and you also
have to be a bit mad. This was in the
early nineteen eighties. In nineteen eighty two, he found himself
on the way to the South Atlantic on a troop
ship with his regiment in May of nineteen eighty two
and found himself in full combat at Goose Green during
the Falklands War. After he left the army, he returned
back to rural life, settled down and married, and they
had a child. He was well known in the community
and very well liked, and was a kind of guy
who would help anyone out. Over a couple of beers.
One evening he told me this story and how it
affected his life, his work, and his marriage. In the
summertime in the late nineteen eighties, he was trucking freshly
harvested peas with another guy in another truck. It was
early morning and they were driving through a rural area
in Suffolk and heading for a pea processing factory. As
they drove down the quiet country roads, the sun started
to rise and in the pink and blue sky they
saw two black triangles. They seemed to just hang silhouetted
in the sky. He drew them and they were Isaceles triangles.
He said, you could even see the heat haze coming
off of them. He got on his sebee to the
other driver and said, do you see them? What the
hell are they? The other driver said, screw this, and
they both floored the trucks and didn't stop until they
reached the truck stop twenty miles away. He said they
both felt shook up and told other truckers what they
had seen. This was a big mistake. At no point
did they ever say UFO or spaceship or aliens. They
just described what they had seen in the sky that morning,
and they received a fair amount of ridicule. And it
didn't stop there. It spread like wildfire and it never ended.
They both were accused of drinking on the job and
being mentally unbalanced. They lost a work through the ordeal.
They just weren't hired by any of the haulage companies.
Every time he went into town, someone would draw an
alien face on his car in the dust, or whistle
the close encounters theme. It was the same in the
local pub. You would think that a tough guy like
him could take it, and that it could only go
on for so long. But it stopped being banter or
a joke, and it simply turned into harassment. One day
he had had enough and he punched one of his hecklers. Unfortunately,
that got him his shotgun certificate revoked over it. I
can't stress how constant it was. The other driver moved
away because of the bullying. Also in nineteen ninety one,
when the First Gulf War started, it suddenly became clear
to him what he had actually seen on television the
United States Air Force rolled out the F one seventeen
stealth Fighter. What he and the other driver had seen
was these aircraft coming into land at an air base
in Suffolk. Even when he explained to people that's what
he had seen, it never mattered and the harassment never stopped.
I last saw him in the mid nineteen nineties when
he was running aid out for the United Nations to
the Balklands War. I heard he met a Bosnian woman
who was from Germany and moved out there after the war.
He was a good friend and a great and really
didn't deserve what he got for simply telling the truth.
My name is Kelly and I'm from England and I'm
a regular listener to your show. I have a true story,
but I'm not sure if it will interest you. It
isn't about Bigfoot nor dog Man, to be honest, it
does not even involve a cryptid, and I'm not sure
you could class it as paranormal or supernatural, but I
will let you decide on that yourself. First, let me
tell you a little about myself. I am a forty
seven year old woman and I live in Lincoln with
my husband. The story did not happen in Lincoln, but
in Manchester, where I used to live before I'm married.
I lived on a rather large estate back in two
thousand and two when this strange incident occurred, and I
had lived in that area since nineteen seventy two. It
was the beginning of July and we had just had
the hottest day of the year. It had been around
ninety four, and the night was so humid it was
still in the eighties. I knew I would not be
able to sleep, although I was doing for work at
nine am the next morning, and I stayed up watching
television until two AM. When I retired to bed, it
was boiling hot in the room, and I opened the
window as wide as I could to let some air inside,
but there wasn't any. Sadly, we don't have air conditioners here,
and the air outside was as warm as that within
the room. I dressed lightly and I chose to sleep
on top of the covers, but as hard as I tried,
I couldn't sleep, and I did not even feel tired.
But I knew without any sleep, I would pay for it.
The next day at work, I clock watched instead as
I tossed and turned, and then two am changed into
three AM, and then four am. It was just far
too warm to sleep, so I took a book from
my bookshelf and I began to read, hoping that I
would eventually drift off to sleep. There was not a
sound from anywhere coming through the window as I read,
and then about four thirty am I heard the clopping sound,
clip clop, clip clop. My first thought was who was
riding a horse at this time of the morning. The
clip clopping noise continued, so I put my book down
and I leaned out to look through my window. It
was daylight and from my home I could see either
end of the street that I lived on and the
main road that it attached to. The clip clop sound
grew louder, and then in the distance on the main
road came a figure. I could not see them clearly,
only the top of their head over the distant hedges,
but it was a woman, I was sure of it,
and she was wearing heels, and that is what was
making the clip clop noise. There was no traffic at
the time in the morning, and it was a Tuesday,
so I wondered why someone was out so early, I
popped my head back into the room so she would
not see me spying on her, and as she turned
the corner, I was amazed to see that she was
wearing a winter jacket with a hood pulled up in
all that heat. She was also wearing trousers in what
looked like old fashioned hobnailed boots, which still made the
loud clip clop sound. The jacket had the old style
wooden toggles on the front to tie it up, and
I stood back in the shadows watching her, thinking that
she must be slightly mad to be dressed for winter
after the hottest day of the year. I observed her
and she drew level with my house, clip clopping along.
She was side on to me, with her head down,
looking at the ground, so all I could see was
her hood, and then she suddenly stopped abruptly, she turned
and looked directly up at me. This caused me to
take a sharp intake of breath and step backwards. How
did she know that I was there? I thought? I
remember her face well from what I could see of
it under her hood. It was pale like alabaster, and
she had dark eyes and a thin mouth that remained closed.
Everything about her was off kilter to me, and the
hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end.
I thought, what am I doing stepping away from the window.
It was still wide open, and I thought, if anyone
is weird here, it's her. So I stepped back to
the window and she was gone. All this occurred in seconds,
and seeing as I had heard her approaching for the
last five minutes with her loud footwear, if she had
run off or walked, I would have heard it. I
knew all my neighbors well and she wasn't one of them,
so she had not skipped into the houses. Plus, they
all had iron gates that made a loud noise as
you open them. I looked out of the window the
entire length of the street, left and right, but she
was gone. I thought I had spooked her and she
ran into the garden to hide. I would have heard
that clip clop of heels though on the pavement. I
stood at the window until five thirty am in case
she was hiding somewhere, but I never saw her again.
As I stood, observing and slightly baffled at the window,
a cat came from the left of the street, walking
along and another from the right, and they met and
sat side by side where the woman had stood. When
she turned to look up at me, it was so weird.
Cats usually fight, and these two were not known to
me as any of the neighborhood cats either. I stood
watching the road with the window shut, even in the heat.
I had images of her flying through my window to
get me, so I slammed it shut and watched through
the glass. The whole episode creeped me out. I could
not sleep at all that night, and I went to
work a few hours later. I told a few family
members and they thought it strange, but they had no ideas.
I wondered if the lady had maybe a skin problem,
hence why she was covered over, But why would you
wear the heaviest clothes in that heat. Plus it still
did not answer where she suddenly disappeared to silently. I
suppose that will remain a mystery. I moved out in
twenty twelve, and the only time I ever saw and
heard anything was back in two thousand and two. But
it has stuck in my mind as odd all these
years later. And if she was real or not, your
guess is as good as mine. I don't even know
if this story is scary or just perplexing, and I
was most definitely not dreaming. I know as I never
slept that night, and on hot evenings afterwards, I'll always
keep the window closed and endured the heat. As I
finished typing this, the hairs on the back of my
neck stood up again, and I turned around to check
that she wasn't standing there. How foolish is that? I
was raised in the desert desert area of Utah, in
the small town of Caneville, population fifteen On a good
day when everyone was home. This town was so remote
it was thirty miles to the west to the nearest
town in twenty miles to the east of Hanksville, which
is just north of Hyte Marina on Lake Powell. Only
a handful of cars passed through our town on Highway
twenty four on a busy day. My father was a
desert tour guide and he knew the Utah Desert like
the back of his hand. So I was raised rough
camping in the desert with my parents and their friends
for several years. In the spring, Dad would lead a
group called the Wonder Bunch on a three day camp
trip into the desert and canyons of Utah. They called
themselves the Wonder Bunch because they always wondered where they
were going, and wondered who would be going, and wondered
when they would make it back. I love going on
the Wonder Bunch camp trips, which usually had seventy five
to one hundred people in the group. Every night, after
eating a great meal, several men would get out their
musical instruments and play songs around the campfire. My dad
played guitar, one man played a banjo, and another played
a harmonica, etc. While they played, some of the others
would clear an area of brush and rock so we
could dance in the sand. Most of the time square
dancing or doing the old fashioned waltz or two step,
and if people didn't want to dance, they just sat
listening to the music or singing along if they wanted.
It was usually long after the moon had come up
and the fire had died down that we would finally
retire to our beds beneath the stars. In May of
nineteen sixty eight, when I was fifteen, I talked my
dad into letting me take five of my girlfriends on
a weekend camp trip. A girl's only trip. Since we
were teenagers, their mothers were concerned that some of the
local boys might find us and cause trouble. So Dad
promised that he would take us where no one would
be able to find us. He wouldn't even tell me
where he was going to ensure no boys could find us.
On Friday, after school, we loaded all of our camping
gear and six girls into Dad's nineteen sixty six international
travel all and we headed out to the desert for
a girl's weekend of giggling and fun. Dad loved to
entertain and pull practical jokes, so at the right time
on our way into the desert, he stopped the vehicle, saying,
I'm sorry, girls, but I have to wi. Of course,
being in the desert, there wasn't any bush or large
boulder in sight. While Dad stepped out of the travel
all the girls turned their heads and covered their eyes,
and then we heard Dad yell we long and loud,
before getting back into the driver's seat and continuing on
our way. Of course, of course, the girls had a
big laugh over that joe. After an hour, we stopped
at the head of the canevill Wash, about five to
seven miles from my home. We hurriedly unloaded our gear
and Dad told us that he would be back to
pick us up on Sunday afternoon before he waved and
he drove away. There was a full moon that weekend,
and Friday night went really well. We set up camp
and spread our bedrolls in a line in the bottom
of the wash where it was sandy and soft, and
then roasted hot dogs around a small campfire. Since it
had been a fairly long day, we went to bed
as soon as he got dark, and all went well
that night. On Saturday morning, after eating breakfasts of burned
bacon and pancakes and eggs, we straightened up camp and
decided to do a little exploring of the area. I
love to gather rocks, as my dad had taught me
the difference between petrified wood, dinosaur bone, jasper, quartz, flint,
and other types of rocks. The wash had several small
canyons and gullies that ran off of it, which were
perfect for rock hounting, so we hiked some of them
until it started to gently rain. We hurried back to
camp stowed our gear on a ledge beneath an overhanging
cliffs so it wouldn't get wet. The storm was just
a summer cloud burst that only lasted a few minutes,
so when it was done and the sun came out again,
we decided it was time to sun tan. We spread
our bedrolls back out. Since we were up on a
small canyon in the middle of the desert with no
one around us for miles, we stripped down to our
brawls and panties and then laid face down on our
sleeping bags to get a good tan on our backs.
And then someone suggested we didn't want to get the
brawl line on our back, so we unhooked the back
of our brawls and just laid there in the sun.
All of a sudden, one of the girls noticed the
jet flying over, so we all squealed and jumped up
and ran to the overhanging cliff, leaving six white bros
lying in a row on our bed rolls. After a
moment of panic, we realized that jet flying that high,
probably at thirty thousand feet, couldn't see us anyway. But
our sun tanning mood was over, so we got dressed
again and we did a little more exploring before it
was time to cook supper. I remember at the very
head of the wash was a natural seep with just
enough water for us to wash our hands and do
the supper clean up. Before long, the sun had set
and our day of fun was over, so we put
out the fire and we crawled into our beds that
were still at the bottom of the wash, and we
quickly fell asleep. Sometime in the night, we were awakened
by a small sprinkling of rain drops, and I told
the girls we needed to move our beds out of
the wash and up under the overhanging cliffs so we
wouldn't get caught in a flash flood if it rained
any harder. The desert canyons of Utah are notorious for
flash floods. If people aren't cautious and aware of the
weather and their surroundings, they could end up in a
life threatening situation. Throughout the years, Dad had rescued several
people who had been caught or stranded by flash floods. Anyway,
the moon was full that week end, so we had
no trouble gathering up our beds and quickly getting underneath
the overhang out of the rain that was coming down
a little harder now. And as soon as we were
all under the overhang. Before we even got a chance
to spread out our beds, a light came down from
the sky and began to search the area in the
wash where we had been sleeping only moments before. The
beam of the search light was fifteen to twenty feet
in diameter and it was coming straight down from the sky. However,
there was no engine, only the hushed breathing of six
terrified girls. One of the girls tried to stick her
head out from underneath the overhang to see where the
light was coming from, but three of the other girls
held her back for fear that she would give away
our hiding place. We realized the light was not normal,
and we since something sinister was happening, and we were frightened.
Like I mentioned, there was no motor noise of any
type of noise, just the silence of the desert, and
we watched in fear, and the light searched our camp area,
and it swept the bed of the wash where we
had previously been sleeping, and up the side of the
hills and cliffs that line the wash. After ten minutes,
the searchbeam of light disappeared. We saw a bright light
shoot to the north and do a ninety degree turn
and shoot to the east and over the horizon. It
was gone in a matter of seconds. There was a
temporary military base to the east of us, maybe thirty
miles between Hanksville and Green River, Utah, and I have
wondered if it had anything to do with this incident.
It took a while for us to settle down and
go back to bed and sleep the rest of the night.
I might also mention that there was a small flood
that went through our camp and right down the wash
where we had been sleeping earlier. Thankfully, no one was hurt.
None of our camping gear was washed away. The next
day was Sunday, and it was just afternoon when Dad
came to pick us up. We excitedly told him what
had happened and how the light had come down from
the sky and had been searching for us. The blood
drained from his face and he just said, hurry and
pack your stuff. We need to get going. So we
loaded everything in his trusty travel all and he drove
us back to town. It wasn't until many years later, when
I was an adult, that I learned about the many
strange objects he had seen in the skies of southeastern Utah.
As I remembered this night in the desert, I'm very
thankful that we were protected and not abducted. In my heart,
I feel the Lord saved us by sending that small
shower to wake us up and get us to move
underneath the overhang where we couldn't be seen from above.
I can only imagine how horrific Dad's life would have
been had us girls gone missing, especially since he was
the only one who knew where we were and the
last one to see us on that Friday night when
he dropped us off to start our camping adventure. Throughout
my teenage years, I saw other strange lights in the sky,
but they were not as frightful as this one. This
craft was definitely looking for us. It's a puzzle to
me how it knew where we were. I know Daddy
didn't tell them, and as Dad promised, the boys didn't
find our camp, but the UFO certainly did. And she
signs off Utah Desert Girl