a reply to: Alter-Ego
I'd like to add my bigfoot encounter here, as I don't think it deserves its own thread. I had considered this event a bizarre attack by unknown
anomalies for 10 years. But I now know it was bigfoot attacking to drive me out of an area, because I have heard similar screams recorded as bigfoot
I am a very experienced wilderness hiker. I have lived off the land for a month in the Bob Marshall in Montana, and it was a cakewalk. I have
tracked and stalked bears close enough to slap them in the butt and they didn't even know I was there - and I never get scared of anything in the
wilderness, spiritual or physical...except for this one time.
it was spring break in Humboldt County, N. California. I had made a choice to hike out the back of a small town I was staying in at the time, based
upon topo-maps I had seen of the area. The maps showed that the terrain behind the town park went directly to old logging lands, then national forest
and private timberlands without a single maintained road or trail anywhere in the area. I decided to hike to a small stream I estimated to be about
two days hike from town, and enjoy complete privacy for a week reading books and philosophizing in a place I knew had no access, and no
It was clear during the hike that I was one of the first people to enter the area since it had been clearcut of redwood perhaps 40 years earlier. I
had to climb over a lot of old logging slash and there were no trails, not even deer trails. I spent the first night on a hillside of ferns under a
doug-fir canopy uneventfully.
The second day was even rougher bushwacking, but I finally made it to the creek towards evening, and marveled at the giant logs left fallen across the
15-30 ft. wide creek from the logging back in the day. I found a deer trail along the creek through the scrub brush and willows, and found a small
clearing, basically a small gravel bar island, to set up my camp. I hung my food from bears, collected wood, set up the tent, and settled in for a
weeklong stay of reading and hiking.
I thought to myself, "the salmon must have run this stream back in the day". I heard a loud, angry, "they did!" in my head, which startled me
briefly. but I dismissed it as odd, heard no other "voices", and had a meal and laid down to sleep. [I talked to an oldtimer after the trip who said
the so many salmon used to run that small creek before the treefall blocked it, that it used to stink from their dead bodies for weeks after the
it was pitch black out now, on a moonless night. as I lay in the tent, a wave of fear and sense of doom came over me, something I had never felt in
the wilderness before. it felt like something dark and angry was trying to push itself into my consciousness. the hair was literally standing up on
the back of my neck. at that moment, a study drip started to hit the outside top of the tent. drip...drip...drip, one drop at a time. I looked
outside. ...moonless night, no clouds, no dripping, no tree overhead to drip from. I looked in the tent. it wasn't dripping anymore. I crawled
back in, laid down, and drip..drip...drip... it started again. I crawled out of the tent, looked up, no drips. looked in the tent...no drips. that
was it. I was scared. something was scaring me, but I didn't know what. I grabbed my little .22 camping rifle, and fired a couple shots into the
air. I told myself I was doing this because I was worried that a deer or coon would walk by camp and I would die of fright if it broke a stick or
made any noise at all. I was completely terrified for no reason at all. but convinced that the gunshot would scare any offending deer away, I
crawled back into my tent, laid down, and then, from what I estimate to be approximately 10-15 feet away, from behind a small thicket of bushes near
the tent, I heard the most horrifyingly loud, terrible scream I have ever heard. I can only describe it as a laughing hyena, screaming at the top of
its lungs, over and over again, a laughing, whooping, screaming howl. irrationally afraid of what I knew could only be a hyena [they don't live in
north America], and in complete shock that it had screamed right next to my tent seconds after I had fired warning shots into the air, I jumped out of
the tent and faced the thicket. I fired two shots into the ground at the base of the thicket, but nothing moved or rustled. no raccoon. nothing.
the irrational fear was so great at this point, that I made a completely irrational decision. despite it being pitch black, and despite being two
days hike from the nearest person, I decided to abandon camp. I put the sleeping bag over my shoulder, I held the gun in my free hand [and yes, you
cant make this shiz up, the batteries in my flashlight had not been replaced and did not work]. I had to walk out by feeling the deer trail with my
feet, [when your foot hits grass or leaves, you know you are off the trail]. I held my hand in front of my face and I couldn't see it, it was that
dark, so progress was slow. I fired a couple shots in the air to scare away any deer, to avoid heart attack for real this time.
I was maybe 30-50 feet outside of camp, feeling my way with my feet, when the sounds of breaking sticks started. directly to my left, 10-15 feet off
the trail, it sounded as if hundreds of sticks were breaking...and there was a deep slow, breathing that was inconceivably vast. its like an entire
cavern was filling with every breath and slow exhale. I didn't shoot - it literally sounded too big to hurt with a .22. I kept feeling for the trail
with my feet, and inched along, while the breaking sticks followed me for about 20 feet of trail, right next to me. to cover that 20-30 feet of trail
seemed to take an eternity. perhaps 1-3 minutes, but it felt like hours, and was the closest feeling to being helpless inside a horror movie I have
ever had before or since.
the trail broke out from under the tree canopy, and I was moving quicker as the stick breaking abruptly stopped. I hiked perhaps 1 hour downstream,
dropped my sleeping bag into the middle of the deer trail, and spent a restless night. I returned to camp early the next morning with some fright,
passing a dead skunk I had shot the night before [about 30 minutes outside of camp I had heard a sound near my feet, fired, and heard hissing and
small movement, but had kept walking because at the time I knew it was just an animal - sorry mr. skunk, I never shoot any animal I don't eat, but I
was a freaked out puppy atm]. when I arrived at camp, I took down the 30 pounds of food, broke down the tent, etc. But before I left camp, I noticed
there was an extremely large, smelly URINE STAIN RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CAMPSITE.
I hiked all the way out in 1 day. I never returned. I told the story several times over the 10 years since it happened, and never had any idea what
it was. I actually believed it was 'bad spirits' from a 'bad place' since I was studying under a native shaman at that time, and that fit the world
view he was inculcating me into. it wasn't until last year that my buddy asked me to "tell your bigfoot story" that I realized it was a bigfoot
story, not a ghost story. I have since heard the exact scream on internet bigfoot recordings.
edit on 20-6-2014 by urmenimu because: (no reason given)