a reply to: misterE12
It was mid-July of 1976. I was in the process of moving from the Portland, Oregon area down to the SF Bay Area, to go to graduate school at Stanford,
and my older brother was helping me with the driving. For reasons I can’t remember any more, we decided to take a few days off along the way and go
backpacking in the Marble Mountain Wilderness area. That particular location is about 40 miles South of the Oregon border and about midway between
Mount Shasta and the Pacific coast. Right in the center of Sasquatch country, as I was later to find out. After driving to the trail head and parking
our vehicle there, we started out hiking around 11:00 AM, as I recall. I’m pretty sure we hiked up the trail that generally follows Boulder Creek
up to lower and upper Wright Lakes. We arrived at upper Wright Lake in late afternoon and made camp in a designated camp site about 20 yards from the
The first night passed without incident, but late in the morning of the second day, a troupe of maybe 15 girl scouts aged about 12 to 18 arrived,
announced that they were on a planned 3 day overnight camping trip and that they would be sharing the camp with us. No problem, we said.
The next morning, I decided I would like to get away from giggly girls for a few hours, so I announced that I was going to hike up into the high
country behind the lake and see what I could find. Those are alpine likes, sitting in glacial-scoured basins, with steep scree slopes rising up
behind them. So, about 11:00 AM, I started out on the trial up to the high country. The trail switchbacked around one end of the lake, gaining about
300 feet of altitude quickly and eventually going through a little pass that opened up onto a pleasant alpine meadow filled with Lupine. The pass
still had a small snow patch in it, in the shadowed, North-facing parts. As I followed the trail across the snow patch, I noticed that many boots had
walked across it and trampled the snow down to a muddy mess, but that off to the side, the snow was still in pristine condition, except for being
covered with a thin layer of yellow Pine pollen.
I continued on my way up the trail and spent a couple of hours just soaking in the beauty and serenity of the place, ate my granola bars, and then
decided to make my way back down to camp. As I came back to the snow-filled pass, I noticed that the snow that had been undisturbed on my way up had
some new markings on it. The first thing I noticed was that something had mashed into the snow just a few inches to one side of the muddy path I was
following. I knealt down to take a closer look and after a few seconds realized that the depression in the snow had the shape of a bare, 5 toed foot.
The snow depth at that particular point was about 4 inches and whatever made the print had compressed the entire layer of snow right down to the
ground. Except for the spaces between the toes. In the spaces between what would have been the toes, the snow was still standing and the layer of
yellow Pine pollen was still undisturbed. I counted what would have been the toes, and there were 5, They went from one side of the print to the
other in descending order of size. Behind the toes, there was a solid depression caused by what would have been the ball of the foot, followed by
what would have been the heel. By this time, I had run out of hypotheses for what this could be, other than a large, human-looking foot print. As I
was pondering this realization, it dawned on me that if there was one print there would almost certainly be more than one. I looked back up the snow
field in the opposite direction from where the footprint was pointing and—sure enough—there was another one about 4 feet away. The same distance
further up, there was another one. Looking down trail, there was a fourth print that was half on the snow and half on the mud. The first print I saw
would have been a right foot. The previous print up the hill was a left print. The one above that was another right print. The fourth one, down the
hill was another left. Whatever made the prints was walking in a regular left-right-left cadence. I decided to estimate the distance between prints.
I took the longest stride I could comfortably manage (later measured at 36 inches) and estimated that the stride of whatever made the prints was about
50% longer than my stride—about 4.5 feet. I found a small pine stick and cut marks into it with my knife to record the length and width of the
print. Later, when I got it home, it turned out to be about 7 inches wide and 16 inches long.
By that time, I had exhausted every possibility and had to conclude that sometime between when I came through the pass going uphill and came through
going downhill, a large, bipedal creature with hominid, bare feet had passed over the same trail. I suddenly felt very small and started wondering
how far away could such a creature be?
I can’t say for absolute certain that Sasquatch are real, but I can say with absolute certainty that Sasquatch footprints are real.
And no, I didn’t tell the Girl Scouts or my brother what I had seen that day until we were safely out of the woods. Maybe I’ll burn in Hell for