Speaker 1: All right, we got a Bigfoot story. Sure enough, show
enough Bigfoot. All right, here we go. I'm a seventy
eight year old young woman living in Ontario, Canada. I
was fascinated by the stories of the Yetti when I
was in my teens in the nineteen fifties, and I
read everything I could find about them at the time. Now,
back then, libraries and National Geographic were the only references
we had about the anomalies in the world. I was
always a believer in the possibility of this creature. Although
I did not speak openly of this, I'd have been
ridiculed to know en. I was secure in knowing that
I knew, and I felt no need to convince anyone.
I had an odd experience in the summer of nineteen
sixty six. We were vacationing with my mother at a
cottage one hundred miles north of Toronto. The woods of
Ontario are thick and lush and quite undeveloped, and our
cottage was rustic and remote. My boyfriend drove up from
Toronto to spend the day with me and to enjoy
the energy of the forest and the river beside us.
After a nice lunch, my mom encouraged us to go exploring,
and so we took the boat and traveled up the river.
The further we went, the narrower and shallower the river became.
At some point we came to a slightly wider spot,
bordered on one side by a gravel beach. We decided
to stop there for a while before turning around and
going back. We pulled the boat up on the bank
and ran the docking rope to a stump that had
washed up on the river's rocky edge. I wandered around
looking for interesting stones, pausing at one point for an embrace,
and right then there was a huge splash in the
middle of the river, halfway between us and the other
wooded shore. The splash was sunned and loud, as if
a large flat rock had hit the surface, and it
shocked to both of us. We could see waves from
the impact visible and meandering toward us. At first we
thought somebody was playing around, maybe some hikers, catching us
in our embrace. But the trees on the other shore
came right down to the water's edge and with no
bank to speak of, and that big rock hit midstream.
Now this made no sense, but we still thought it
was someone playing with us, and we were not alarmed.
My boyfriend attributed it to a big fish jumping. We
sat on the bow of the boat and we talked
for a little while, and the splash was no longer
much of a concern. And then it happened again. Something
crashed into the water and landed midstream. This time it
was bigger and louder than the first, and we watched
the water settle into ripples, and I knew it wasn't
a fish. Well, we took the hint and we left.
I wasn't afraid, I was intrigued, but my boyfriend didn't
say a word I since we were being watched, not
by hikers. My boyfriend never talked about it again, but
I never forgot that encounter. As the stories of Bigfoot
became more and more common, I came to realize that
this was my encounter. It's not a big story, but
it did happen, and I'm grateful for it. The forests
in the nineteen sixties in Ontario, Canada were as rugged
as any They still are in many places where they
have not been decimated by logging in urban development. Growing
up in the nineteen forties, in the nineteen fifties. The
woods at the end of my street were a playground
of adventure, and I distinctly remember the sensation of being watched,
not in a creepy way, just being watched. Thank you
for reading my story. I thoroughly enjoy your podcast and
I love knowing that for all these years, I wasn't alone.
And she signs the email Maxine. She didn't say not
to use your name, So thank you. Maxine, seventy eight
year young woman in Ontario, Canada. And I probably got
this story a couple of years ago. She's probably eighty
or eighty one now. And Maxine, thank you for sending this.
I really appreciate it. Welcome to the What If It's True? Podcast.
My name is Cam Buckner, and all we do is
tell stories from real people about weird incidents in their lives,
namely cryptid's ghosts, paranormal experiences, UFO sightings, anything you can
think of. We do stories on And I was going
to tell you something else, but I forgot what it was,
So let's go on with the podcast. All right, here
we go. My cousin and his girlfriend were on their
way home after visiting her family when her car broke
down They were only a mile or so from her
family's farm, and she knew there would be fuel there,
so they decided to walk. While they were passing by
a large patch of woods, they heard something moving between
the trees. He had a brass whistle he kept on
his keychain to scare animals off, but he said it
did the exact opposite. Instead of running off, the thing
ran right toward them like a freight train, and it
stopped just short of the tree line, and it roared
so loud it shook his chest and scared him so
bad that he was frozen solid. Once he snapped out
of it, he looked for his girlfriend, but she had
taken off running toward the farm. They ended up sleeping
at her family's house that night, both of them too
afraid to go back to the car. I grew up
outside a small town in the middle of nowhere. It
was a Friday night and my father and the neighbor
had taken off to the bar. The neighbor's wife came
over as she usually did, and one hang out at
our place until their husbands came home, and around midnight,
she decided to stay the night because the guys probably
weren't coming back, and she asked me to go with
her oldest son to get her things from their place.
It was a quarter mile away. Well, we jumped at
the task and we took off down the road. It
was much colder than I expected, and I was under dress,
so about halfway there, I started walking backward to keep
the cold wind out of my face. That's when I
noticed red glowing eyes. I was fixated on them, trying
to figure out what I was looking at. When they
moved and stood up. I took off running and my
friend following close behind, and when we got to his house,
I told him what I'd seen. Neither of us wanted
to go back the way that we came, so we
did a circle in the field behind the houses to
avoid the road. I often think about that, and I
still cannot wrap my head around it. Later in life,
in a different town, my wife and I were renting
a house with thousands of acres of mostly timber behind
the property. I had become friends with the elderly neighbors
and they allowed me to hunt their hundred acres. I
was excited because it had not been hunted for many years,
and I was the only one who had been given permission. Well,
the season started and I hunted it a few times.
One day, I shot a nice buck and I heard
him crash nearby, and I waited a little while, and
I snuck out of my stand to go eat dinner,
and then I called a buddy to come help me
retrieve the deer. We found the blood trail almost immediately.
I was using rage broadheads at the time, and the
arrows did the job. We followed the blood trail for
fifty yards and found a massive puddle of blood, but
there was no deer, and the blood trail ended there.
We thought it might have doubled back, so we did
big circles to try to pick up its trail again,
but we found nothing. The only thing I could think
of was that someone from the neighboring property had been trespassing,
saw the deer laying there dead, and picked it up.
A week or so later, I was hunting what I
call the middle Stand. I had not hunted this stand,
nor had I been back there since I said it.
It was located in the center of an opening of
a pine grove. About an hour into my hunt, I
heard something big and bipedal coming through like it didn't
have a care in the world. I thought to myself,
this is a trespasser who stole my buck. As the
sound got closer, I got ready for a fight. No
one was allowed to be on the property but me.
It got louder and closer, to the point where it
was just ten yards away, but I couldn't see anything
at all. I started to feel like I was losing
my mind. I was standing and turning around to look
for whatever was making the sound, and I saw absolutely nothing.
It occurred to me all at once that something wasn't right.
I got a horrible feeling, and as soon as the
sound stopped, I left those woods and never went back.
All right, I'm just going to give you a hint
what this story is about. Steve Lily has been spotted.
I guess that's all I need to say. It was
late August and Georgia, and the freshly cut field was
bustling with tractors and pulling rakes in every direction. It
was Haysey's and and the weather had put a rush
on us to get it cut and secured it in
the barns. A storm was approaching Florida in two days
and could drastically change all our plans. For the coming weeks,
so my brother Quincy, and I wanted to put the
task behind us. I came round the bottom of the
field and my side by side I headed toward the
tree line on the for southern field, banned it by
Jack Russell Terrier was in the seat next to me.
My brother had been on the tractor there for four
straight hours and I was coming to replace him. I
needed him to tend to another tractor with a mechanical problem.
I pulled up on the top edge of the field
in the shade and waited for him to notice me.
I had his tool box on the back of my
side by side to save him some time, and a
cooler beside me in the seat with a bag of food.
He was all smiles when he saw me, his little sister,
happy for a meal and a break, and then he
saw his toolbox. He inhaled the food and the drinks,
and I told him the tractor in the eastfield had
a carburetor problem. We sat there gazing over the field
in front of us, drinking something cold and talking about
the upcoming hunting season. When five quick shots rang out
behind us. Well our heads whipped around toward the sound.
The two more shots rang out, followed by the loudest,
most terrifying roar I had ever heard. I could feel
it in my chest. I was about to open my
mouth when a second, longer scream let loose, and then
Bandit jumped off the seat and hid behind my boots.
Hell no. Quincy said, we're out of here, Cherry. Are
you packing? I nodded. There was a nine millimeter in
the glove box and a rifle behind the seat. Suddenly,
four more shots rang out from the woods, much closer,
this time, sending the limb of an oak tree tumbling
to the ground. Quincy jumped to the wheel and we
tore through the tree line to see who was wreaking
havoc on our land. We crossed the creek and Quincy
stopped and turned off the motor. He looked at me
and held his finger to his lips and pointed up
the bank. He grabbed a nine mil and we started
up the hill on foot, him looking ahead and me
watching our backs. Everything was still in quiet. Quincy held
up two fingers in motion. Toward the tree line. There
were two men. I stepped closer. I was quiet and
slow until I saw him. I'm going around the creek.
Quincy whispered, give me three minutes, then come into the
meadow in his zigzag and lie down on the horn.
All come out from behind and disarm them. Three minutes
start now. He disappeared around the creek and I ran
back to the side by side. I steered to the
top of the meadow and I laid on the horn,
and then I took off. One of the men jumped
to his feet and started running straight toward me, waving
his arms. The other stayed down. I stopped the side
by side and I grabbed my rifle and I fired
a shot into the dirt in front of him, and
he stopped and put his gun down. Quincy came out
a moment later, holding the other guy at gunpoint. Ma'am,
please let me explain. The nearest man said, hold your horses, rambow,
I said, you'll get to talk in a second. Both
of you figure out who's going to do the talking,
Quincy said, and explain why we narrowly got shot on
our own property, and just what the hell was making
that horrible noise. I added, I'm real sorry to make
your acquaintance like this. My name is Steve Lilly. One
of the men said, this is Lewis, and our friend
Hook is out there somewhere. He was tracking a faroh
boar and got turned around. Quincy shook his head. You
expect me to believe that, yes, sir, said Steve. Mister
Digby hired us to get this hog problem under control.
Y'all must be the Ward family that he told us about.
Just then, the radio on Steve's vest came to life. Steve,
come in, Steve. Steve looked at my brother, you mind.
Quincy nodded at him for her answer. Steve dropped his
hands quickly and spoke into the mic. Hook you all right, yeah,
Hook said, gonna need a few stitches. No sign of
the target Roger that, Steve said, looking at Quincy again. Now,
mister Ward, I'm real sorry to have scared y'all, but
I got to help my man. We're staying at the
hunting club on Digsby's property. Come by later and we'll
make it up to you. Quincy looked. At the time
the weather was coming in. He still had to fix
that tractor. He held out his hand. Just call me, Quincy.
This is my sister Sherry. We finished cutting and storing
our hay, and Quincy got that old tractor fit mixed up. Later,
we cleaned ourselves up and we rode out to Digbee's
hunting club. Now story doesn't add up, Quincy said, thinking
out loud. If they were following the hogs, why were
they shooting through the treetops. He pulled up at the
camp at dinner time, and we were greeted by Lewis,
who was tending to a big brick grill. Steve was
digging around in the back of a giant suv, and
a tall, well built man stepped out of the cabin,
waving and introducing himself as Hook. Had a long line
of fresh stitches on his shoulder. Is that from chasing
a hog, I asked, Hog, he said, confused. Steve cut
in quickly. This dude can get hurt getting out of bed.
He got tangled up in an old barber wire fence
on the west side of mister Digby's property. Didn't you Hook,
Hook furd his brow and answered slowly, yeah, that's right.
Before Quincy could ask any more questions, Lewis shouted that
dinner was ready. He sat down to the feast that
he had prepared for us, and we chitch headed about
our land and the work that we do before the
weather turned and all of us relaxed and enjoyed our
new acquaintances. We thanked them for the meal and started
to head out. When the friendly faces of Hook and
Lewis turned grim, Steve asked to have a serious word
with us. He explained, they did have a contract for
mister Digby, but it wasn't for killing hogs. It's a
government contract to remove unwanted critters that had become a
danger to humans. He said, what did you say? Quincy asked,
Once a control situation gets out of hand, we get
called in to eliminate the threat. We were on your
land trying to eliminate one of those threats. What kind
of threat are you talking about, Quincy asked Steve. Lewis
and Hook exchanged a glance like they were deciding if
it was worth tilling us the truth or a lie.
It's a sisquatch, Steve said. I looked at Quincy and
we both nodded. Now it made sense. A month ago,
I was back by the creek checking fences after a
storm dropped several trees. Quincy said, I ran up on
a mangled dough. She had a broken leg and the
other one was missing and her head was snapped around backwards.
Every hair on my body stood on ind. I got
my pistol out and I chambered around. It was all
I could do to finish my route and get the
hell out of those woods. Well I knew right then
something unnatural was on our land. Right about that time
I decided I needed to leave. My daughter was at
home alone, and a damn sisquatch was on the loose,
seeming to notice my worry. Lewis chimed in. Everyone as
secure as we speak, cook install security lines around your
homes and property lines. Nothing goes in or out without
us knowing. We've been monitoring your property for twenty four
hours since we got here. That's what you were shooting
at a sasquatch, I asked, Steve nodded. A man in
Madison reported seeing one cross the main highway twelve miles
away from here. We've been tracking him for the last
couple of months, trying to get a fix on his
clan's location. Well, it's not been easy. One of these
things finally messed up and got greedy, helped itself to
several calves over a short period of time, showing us
exactly where it was hanging around. Now the klan is
in the marsh on the west end of your land,
bordering digbies. Tomorrow we're going in, but we need your help.
Well what can we do, asked Quincy. Well, you have cattle,
Steve said, it's an easy mark for a greedy squatch.
We want to bait him in and take the rest
of the klan with him, probably three adult females and
four or five juveniles in total. Quincy got quiet for
a moment and he thought it over. I can supply
the bait, he said, after a minute, but we get
to help take him down. How does that sound. The
next day Quincy and I brought the cattle to the
front pasture. The calves were in the lunge ring in
the center of the barn, calm and lunching away or
at a round bay of hail that we had brought in,
and the bottle babies had been brought into the barn
and were locked into stalls for safe keeping. We found
a fresh road killed doe on the side of the
road and Lewis corded it up and hung it like
bait around the perimeter of the property. Then he had
us move six of the calves closer to the fence line.
Roadkill was one thing, but fresh meat was something the
greedy member of the clan would never pass up. And
while Steven Hook left to take their positions around the perimeter,
Lewis geared us up with radios and he checked our
weapons well. Hook came through on the radio. One or
two were in place. Five subjects accounted for. Take positions
and wait until one locked and loaded. It was time
for us to get into position, and we grabbed our
guns and set our earpieces in and we moved in.
Two locked and loaded. Steve's voice came through my earpiece.
Three locked and loaded, said Louis. Four locked and loaded,
said Quincy. Then it was my turn. Five locked and loaded.
All quiet, night vision on, Steve said. The night began
to fill the evening sky. It was clear and nearly still.
Steve had told us to expect the Alpha and several
scouts to emerge and take debate. It was stationed on
the window walk at the top of my house and
had a good view in all directions. My main task
was to defend the barnyard and the east side of
the property. Quincy was on the roof of the equipment
shed with an uns dirupted view of the tree line
and the rear barnyard in the west side of the pasture.
Lewis had taken the hunting stand in the center of
my backyard with a panoramic window all the way around it.
One here two subjects exposed, moving north, said Hook. Two
has sight on them. Steve replied, they're heading north towards
the tree line. Hook said four. You should be able
to pick them up on night vision. They're separating, posting
up about one hundred feet apart in the oaks. The
alpha is stepping out. Four has targets acquired. Quincy said,
I scanned the oaks with my night scope and I
saw one. I scan west and then I saw another.
Five has two targets acquired. I whispered copy that four
and five. Steve said, the nest is quiet and zipped up. Three.
As soon as you acquire the alpha, we're ready to
make our move. I don't have eyes on the alpha.
Louis said, he's gone. He should have set off emotion censor,
but I got nothing here. All right, then we're flying
by sight. Everyone's eyes open. Nestas still zipped up. Update
on the scouts, Steve asked. Both scouts still in view,
Lewis said, the Alpha is the only one I accounted for.
The quiet of the moment was the worst, I said, frozen,
my heart beating in my throat, waiting for the Alpha
to show up, no one knowing where he vanished to
or where he was going. Just then my phone vibrated.
I looked and my cameras had recorded movement on the
side of the house. It was the Alpha. Three Alphas
coming your way, I said quickly. I stood up and
saw him. He was nearly as tall as the hunting stand.
He was reaching up just at Lewis's feet. Steve was
in our ears. All eyes on, scouts, take your shot
in three two one. As the shots rang out, I
pulled the trigger, watched the Alpha fall. I chambered another
round and looked back toward the scout I was watching.
He was gone, damn. I caught him with my scope
finally and saw him moving quickly in toward the fall
and Alpha. And I steadied my aim and I pulled
the trigger, and I watched him fall. Then my earpiece
came alive. Three targets neutralized, nest Is all accounted for,
It only took thirty minutes, but a black helicopter landed
on our back pasture and six trucks showed up. They
were hauling men and women in military fatigues. They cleared
all the creatures and cleaned up the nest, and within
an hour everything was back to normal. The next morning,
Quincy and I said goodbye to our new friends and
thank one another, and welcomed them back to our property.
Anytime Whency's good mood did not last long. When he
saw me holding his toolbox. We may have just rounded
up a clan of Sasquatch on our farm, but the
storm is still coming. There's still hate to be cutting stored,
and tractors to be fixed. Let's get to work. I said, Okay,
that's the end of his story. That's some Steve Lily
fan fiction, and I love these. I have about a
dozen to do, and I'm going to get to every
one of them. They're really good stories. You guys have
great imaginations, and if you want to write a Steve
Lily fan fiction story, please write it and send it
to me. I don't care how crazy it is. I
don't care how funny or serious it is. I just
think they're really fun stories. They're different. It's what I
like about them. It's something different. So feel free to
send Steve Lily's stories to my email, which is what
If It's True Podcast at gmail dot com. What If
It's True podcast All one word at email dot com.
In the late nineteen nineties, my dad and his wife
were on their way home after spending an evening with
friends in Reno, Nevada. At the time, they lived in Quincy, California.
They were driving up Lee's Summit when a bigfoot walked
right in front of them. They were driving an astro
van and the bigfoot was much taller than the van,
its head reaching about eight feet. They slammed on the brakes,
but the bigfoot didn't even look at them. It just
crossed the road in long strides. It's a big hairy
arms swinging, and it walked right up into the snowy
mountains with no effort. They sat there with their mouths open.
They were dazed and confused by what they had just seen.
They got home quickly and left again, and neither of
them were able to relax. They went back to where
they saw it cross the road, and they looked for
signs and they brought plaster with them to make impressions.
They found some tracks and they cast one of them,
and my dad, being a baker at the time, made
a mold and started selling bigfoot cookies. A week later,
a man came into the bakery and he told them
that he had seen a bigfoot very early in the
morning behind the store in Portola and watched it disappear
in a ravine that runs through the town. He said
that it moved really fast, but it didn't run. It
took long strides that showed no fear. And there are
several national parks in the area where they live, and naturally,
there have been many other sightings. Still, even with witnesses
and multiple local reports, it's nearly too fantastic for some
people to believe. Even my dad, not too long before
he passed away, he told me that he was the
world's biggest skeptic, and he still was. And then he
looked at me and he said, and I even saw
a bigfoot. Okay, here is an unusual story that I thought.
It's really different. It's a different creature, and I've read
I've done a couple of stories on these, but I
thought this was really cool. So I'm putting in this podcast.
One cloudless summer day in our small town in Massachusetts,
my mother and I took Nissa and Wicket, my two
elderly shifts sues, for a walk behind my house. My
mother and Nissa were walking ahead of Wicket and me
about twenty feet and as soon as they reached the woodline,
everything went quiet. All the birds stopped chirping, and the
bugs stopped buzzing, and the air around us went completely dead.
I looked down and I noticed that Wicked had come
to a stop, and looked straight up into the sky
above us. A huge black shadow came over the top,
so immense that it covered the endire area behind my house.
And as strange as that sounds, there was nothing there.
There were no clouds, no planes, just clear blue sky. Well.
I ducked, afraid this thing was going to crash down
on top of me, and I crouched and I grabbed
a wicket, and I screamed to my mother to grab Nissa,
and when I looked, she was already ducking too. Nissa
was staring straight up into the sky, just like Wicked.
I had the overwhelming sense of being stalked. I knew
that whatever this was, it wanted the dogs. And then
came the massive whoosh of gigantic wings, followed by the
crashing and breaking of branches at the top of the
tree line ahead of us. It was quiet for what
seemed like forever, and my mother turned towards me with
the palest face I've ever seen, and just then the
movement started again, breaking tree limbs and cracking and crashed
through the treetops. We heard the enormous wings flapping through
the dead air again, and the clear sound of a
giant bird, but still we couldn't see a thing except
for its massive shadow. I followed the sound to my
left and my eyes locked on my neighbor's house behind me,
a long, single story ranch house. There are no trees
in close proximity to this house, and it was the
color of light gray, and it was engulfed in sunlight.
And I was listening to the woshing and following the
sound with my eyes, when slowly the light gray roof
turned completely black, as if someone were suspended above it,
pouring black paint from one end almost to the other.
Slowly the roof returned to its light gray color again,
and just like that, everything turned back to normal. The
birds were chirping, and the bugs were shunding, and the
air was moving again, and then the sun was bright
and beautiful over the top of us. It took a
moment for me to realize that I was no longer
frozen in place, and I quickly went to my mother,
who was yelling over and over what the hell was that.
I think this experience was worse for her, as she
was almost right underneath all the chaos. My husband and
I made a small path leading to an opening beneath
a large canopy of trees, and in there we had
a small screen house and a fire pit, and I
kept it free of debris, since we spent a lot
of evenings cooking and eating dinner and relaxing by the
fire out there. I handed wicket to my mother and
went back there, stunned by the broken tree limbs scattered
across the ground. I looked up and I realized it
was rather unsafe. Whatever had done this, it had created
a bunch of widow makers over my head. I was shocked,
I guess, because it made it real. It wasn't my imagination.
And as we hurried back into the house, my mother
kept asking me what that was. Well, I didn't answer
her right away. I was struggling with it myself. We
have things like eagles and hawks and gray herrings here,
but this was none of them. I've lived in New
England for forty eight years and I know these woods
and I've spent my entire life in them without fear.
I hope this finds you and your safe and blessed,
and the same for your listeners. Peace and love, my friend,
Tay Tay, what a cool story. A giant bird. Some
people call these thunderbirds, but I don't think all of
them are thunderbirds. And there are stories out there that
people have seen prehistoric type birds. And if you've ever
I don't know if you ever watched the National Geographic
Channel or some of these specials on TV, but some
of those big prehistoric birds like a pterodactyl, right, they
could be big enough to tear up trees like that.
But I mean, who knows, who really knows what it was?
You never actually saw it, That's what is so odd.
You just saw the shadow and the damage that left behind,
and you saw the damage, heard the damage while it
was happening. But it's a fascinating story. And I really
appreciate you, Tay for sending it. Thank you. Okay, at
this point, I'm going to bring up one story from
the vault that you guys may or may not have heard,
but I hope you enjoy it if you're hearing it again,
and if you haven't heard it, I really hope you
enjoy it. So here's one from the vault. This is
a story from Dave, an email I received from Dave,
and it covers the whole spectrum of Bigfoot, paranormal, poulter Geist, everything.
And he's very brief, but this is an interesting story
and I think you'll find it interesting too. I didn't
believe in orbs in the woods or the tie between
Bigfoot and aliens. I even questioned my late twin brothers story,
which occurred years ago at the base of the Strawberry
Canyon trail between US fifty and Highway eighty eight. My
interest in cryptids started with the yetti I read about
them in Boys' Life magazine in the early seventies, Stories
about Sierra sounds and other cryptid types like the cone
heads and the roundheads and the flat teeth. Whether caninees
both dog and wolf, nice or bad it's all over
the page, no pun intended. They've screeched at me, and
I've chased these things through the forest, and I've been
ambushed and surprised by them as well. And I don't
care ever to be in their presence again. If you're
into doing research, A man named H. E. Miller conducted
an interesting study on three Texas female roundheads and one
female cone head after a lightning strike during a Columbus
day storm, allegedly killing them near Redding, California. Some claim
the event happened in Oregon. On one occasion, I was
deer hunting with my good old Georgia buddy along Strawberry
Canyon Trail. I was sitting on a large boulder when
I heard a loud crack and then detected a faint,
fishy smell. Suddenly, the stench hit me again big time.
I have never smelled anything that sickening. As I spun
around and this creature stepped toward me, a shot rang
out and it scared it off. Thankfully, my buddy had
been there to back me up. I had just chased
one of these things a month earlier with a loaded shotgun,
but my karma was against me that time. My Georgia
hunting buddy wasn't there to cover me, but I still
managed to escape. I hiked a lot of the Trinity
Alps by myself. At age sixteen, I was a boy
scout and tapped out for Order of the Arrow. I
never once experienced anything bad as a kid. Now I
should clarify that I'm not an expert, nor am I
a force recon Navy seal forward air controller, or a
timber cruiser or a forest ranger. As of July twenty
four of this year, my twin brother Gordy has been
gone for sixteen years. His four wheel drive club had
adopted Strawberry Canyon Trail after I started hunting there. We
would ride together in his truck. They were closing the
trail after deer season and we were camped at its
base on the US fifty side. Our six tents were
in a semicircle. Gordy was situated on the end nearest
the trees. Something kept pacing around his tent that night.
It ran a stick underneath and pawed at the sides
of his tent. This creepy nighttime visit went on from
two AM until dawn. Guys from the group got up
to believe themselves and claimed later that something in the
dark was growling at them. There was a couple in
the camp with a dog who had been hit by
a car as a pup and had injured his voice box,
which made for the easiest explanation. I hope I did
my brother's story justice. Rest in peace, Gordy. I miss you.
Caltrans Ait Caples Lake was at the other end of
the trail. There were others camping during this same time.
They allegedly had a mail bigfoot walk within twenty yards
of their campfire. They reported the encounter to the ranger
station somewhere. I have a newspaper clipping of the account.
Apparently it was investigated. The Sacramento Union ran a story, though,
and I had not been able to find it in
the archive since the paper went out of business some
years ago. My brother claimed the rangers had given the
nickname Blood Alley to a small nearby a canyon with
a creek flowing through it, as a couple had been
killed there. A child went missing from a playground at
Camp Sacramento. It was documented by David Pilatius and missing
for one one the Lover's Leap Trail is on the
US fifty side, which runs from Sacramento to Tahoe. I
remember an earlier paranormal encounter that I didn't understand at
the time because I was so young and my parents
kept the details from us for our own protection. We
were living in Rancho Cordova, California, which is near Sacramento.
My folks always had trouble getting us to go to
bed each night while living in that house. Once we
finally caved, all us kids would run down the hallway
to our rooms. We were all afraid, but we didn't
know why. So our beds were safe havens from whatever
we thought was lurking outside our bedrooms. Mom and Dad's
clock radio would go off at odd times in the
day and night. Her mom claimed something invisible kept poking
her in the back while she prayed other strange Poulttergeist
type nonsense was happening. My mother has always had a
love hate relationship with spirits since she was eighteen. She
claimed the veil that separates the living from the dead
is very thin, and she could see the spirits that
existed around us. Her belief started to cause her problems
one night because of the so called juvenile poultry gui
stuff that she was enduring. She made a really, really
big mistake and commented out loud how stupid the spirits were.
A very evil presence appeared in the doorway of her bedroom,
and it lingered there. One evening, while she was in bed,
a demon suddenly rushed her without any warning. She drew
the blanket over her head and cried out for my dad,
who was in the bathroom. The way she later put it,
I could have been murdered, and he was acting like
my oh, my neurotic wife and taking his own sweet
time speaking about her husband. The officials in our church
were someone who immediately sided with my terrified mother over
my cynical father. They were saying that the world is
in a constant battle between good and evil, that when
certain events have happened or or about to take place,
evil spirits appear to alter the outcome. Then he gave
my dad a lesson in poltergeist's removal. My mother sat
with us kids in the car while my father ventured
back inside the house, and when he came out, he
was as white as a sheet. My dad had obviously
experienced something. Whatever it was, I sense that he had
a new found faith in my mother and her paranormal sensibilities.
As for us kids, we remained clueless until much later
in our lives. Mom insisted that the hallway was like
a type of conduit filled with entities appearing at one
end and fading away at the other. These ethereal beings
were also miserable and self absorbed, ignoring the world around them, or,
as she described their behavior, weeping and wailing and gnashing
of teeth. That's why we could feel their presence. While
our mother was assured that in their narcissism, the Poultergeist
were already preoccupied and therefore unbothered by a bunch of
kids still scared of the dark. Well, Mom never believed
that we were ever in harm's way. Thank you for
joining me on this podcast. I've had a great time
putting it together. I'm really loving exclusively uploading to Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Speaker,
wherever you get your podcasts. I'm really enjoying this not
having to deal with the video aspect of it again.
I told you a couple of podcas cast back. I
am planning a new YouTube channel that who knows if
people will find it and if it'll be enjoyable for
people I don't know, but I'm gonna be doing things
drastically different. I'm gonna keep doing this podcast exactly like
I'm doing it now. So if you just enjoy the
audio into this, hang with me. I'm not gonna stop
doing this, but I want to do something different with
YouTube that's much more visual, and haven't figured out exactly
how I'm gonna do it, but I'm getting there and
I'm hoping to get it done in the next two
or three weeks at least put the first video out.
So anyway, thanks for joining me on this podcast again.
I've enjoyed putting this one together. What a great array
of stories. Steve Lilly, giant Birds, Bigfoot, mystery creatures. All
these stories are so good. I appreciate the writers, and
I appreciate you for tuning in to the podcast. We'll
see on the next one. So s