I believe in the species commonly known as Big Foot or, as the natives call them, the Hairy Man.
These names are a bit miss leading for the simple fact they make it sound as if there is only one creature traveling the world being spotted but, the truth is, they live in tribes.
I don’t know how I know this but, it sits in my brain and grows stronger and stronger as I talk to other people who’ve been witness to the hairy people. I’ve had several experiences up here in the pacific northwest and I believe that humans aren’t at the top of the food chain like history would like us to buy into.
I was born and raised in Washington State spending my childhood with my grandparents traveling around during the summers camping, fishing, catching crayfish, crabs and digging clams.
As a little dude, I had a lot of interesting adventures giving me a strong foundation for the love of nature and a great respect for our natural resources.
My grandfather was a Vietnam vet and this gave us free access to all of the camp grounds and RV parks. I also am completely blind due to cancer and so I was able to camp out for free as well which meant my family and friends would often take me with them to save a bit of money.
I didn’t mind since it gave me more time out in the woods running through creeks, climbing trees and shooting guns with my dad.
My blindness never slowed me down or gave me reason to fear the unknown, and I only mentioned it here because it’s an important piece to the experience I had at age twelve.
The legends surrounding blind people talks about super human senses like hearing, smell and touch. But, the truth is, blind people simply rely on the other four senses more so they’re adapted to build a picture of ones surroundings. As I tell you what happened I’ll build the picture from my perspective and give you the facts as I witnessed them…
A week with the whole family.
School was out for the summer and I was eleven or twelve at the time and my grandparents organized a family camping trip. We’d be going out to our favorite camping area.
They had just gotten an RV and would be using that as our main operations center for the four tents, two trucks with canopies and my cousin Steve who decided to sleep under the stars on a picnic table in his sleeping bag.
My other cousin, CJ, was more like my twin brother than a cousin. We did everything together and we both would witness these events as well.
We spent a day prepping our gear and loading up the vehicles and let me tell you, prepping enough camping gear for 15 to 20 people takes some strong communication skills, and a list of goals that could probably choke a bigfoot.
The RV was packed full barely leaving enough space for extra passengers. So, my Dad and I, we drove out to the creek in his Ford Ranger with a shell over the back where he and I would sleep. My cousin CJ road with his Mom, two sisters and his older brother Steve.
My uncle had his own tent and caught a lift with my grandparents in the RV. This campers convoy made it to the creek in the early evening and we spent some time looking for a big enough clearing to hold all of our vehicles and tents that insured us kids would be safe while playing.
Weston creek is known to the locals as a place to hang out and party but when its calm it’s amazing. Bats come out at night from caves along the creek and waterfalls fill small pools where dinner sized trout wait for the great worm from the sky.
As young guys, CJ and I weren’t afraid to roam around checking out our environment, haha, the brash confidence of teens. I mean after all we both had high powered slingshots, a hunting knife each along with several pocket knives and the handy lighter.
We waded across the creek and explored the tree line a bit, this side of the creek wasn’t set up for camps but instead was thick trees and brush. Some big animals had made trails down to the water and into black berry thickets, we found hoof prints so we thought deer maybe some elk traveled through there most often.
Up the creek was a good size water fall where we found a deep pool at the bottom with some crawdads and tucked away under some rocks a catfish or two. The water was cold but it was late August and we were having a patch of high 90 days with no rain.
We took a few shots with our slingshots and after several good sized rocks were implanted into a dead log we figured we had the skills of a sharp shooter. Each time the rock slammed into the log it made a loud hollow thunk and we thought this was good fun.
After some time we circled back round to camp and grabbed some food and told our family what we’d found. We were then put to work carrying and stashing the beer in the creek to keep it cold. So CJ and I were filling trash bags with cans of beer and sinking them in the creek with big river stones. And, of course, anytime an adult wanted a beer it was our job to go fish them out and resink the bag.
My cousin and I got a kick accidentally letting a can here and there go floating down river. We’d walk the creek later on and never did find where the cans had caught up on the shores.
Bats and blood.
The first night was the usual excitement of being out in the woods and eating a meal cooked over the fire, everyone was full of energy and sleep wasn’t pursued until one or two in the morning.
The first night was the night we noticed the bats flying out up near the waterfall up creek from us. They flew all over catching bugs and our camp had lights along with the fire which was drawing the bugs in like crazy. These bats were feasting twenty feet above our heads while we talked about the upcoming fishing trip.
My cousin Steve, who is accident prone, was carving a stick with a pocket knife and ended up slicing open his hand causing a nice puddle of blood on the ground. We threw hot ash over the spilled blood and then dumped a bucket of water over it hoping to hide the smell with burnt wet ash. After
After that we all started to get tired and by three in the morning we were out.
CJ and I were sleeping in the RV’s top bunk over the drivers cab, it had room for two full sized adults to sleep up there so for us we had enough room to set up our own sleeping bags, and it worked great. We’d move around camp each night trading other cousins for spots in tents and on and under the picnic table although that was quickly stopped after the second night.
It was the first night, and after joking about peeing the bed we crashed in the RV’s top bunk where there was an air vent that could be opened and grant access to the roof. Overnight it rained a bit and we woke up the next morning with our sleeping bags soaking wet.
We found some interesting boulders stacked in odd formations, these were huge rocks that would of taken six or seven people to lift. The stone structures were along the far bank of the creek on the forested side where no one really camped.
Our curiosity did lead us to explore the large stacks and what we discovered was that they gave a darn good view of the campsites without letting campers across the creek see you from behind the rocks.
I also got good wifts of a skunk like smell or wet dog on the back side of the stacks.
The day wore on as we collected rocks, raised a little ruckus with nature and ate the usual summer foods, burgers, steak, hotdogs and of course bacon. Yeah my family knows how to camp and this is why we were visited, free creek chilled beer and possible food scraps? Sounds like a good target for the local population of raccoons and boy did they sweep in and clean up camp.
We went to bed again in the RV and fell asleep fairly quickly and I remember waking up at one o’clock. We were woken by something outside the RV moving around.
The RV’s door started jiggling as the handle was tested. Luckily this door had two deadbolts plus a chain, although if it was bigfoot I didn’t think a chain would keep he or she out. The RV had a good sized fridge and that’s where we stored all of the fresh meat along with leftovers.
My cousin and I kept real quiet as the thirty foot RV began rocking side to side. It was as if a mosh pit of punk rockers were attempting to flip the RV to get inside.
My cousin called out asking who it was, we both thought it might of been someone wanting inside to use the bathroom. No one answered but the rocking stopped and something large slapped the window just right of the door and cracked a panel.
We both shut up quickly and laid back down trying not to make a sound as something brushed alongside the RV. We could hear heavy breathing much like a horses deep breath. There was several loud thumps on the roof just next to the air vent and then we heard the sound of something large moving across the gravel towards the trees.
Our grandparents could be heard snoring away as they slept through the whole thirty seconds of the RV rocking.
CJ braved to look, however, and as he looked out across the camp, he swears he saw a large, no, gigantic dark, and bipedal person and shadow move in and out of the firelight that was still flickering.
Massive, whatever it was was broad too, tall, and all of a sudden, through the window on top the RV him and I could smell that same nasty skunk or wet dog smell again.
Breakfast and myths.
After a long night we finally fell asleep for several hours. The smell of cooking bacon and eggs woke us up around 7:30 along with the amazing smell of campfire brewed coffee which covered the area in the smell of morning. No more wet dog smell, that was for sure.
We gathered around the campfire with most of the family chowing down on the usual feast. We asked if anyone had tried to enter the RV last night and everyone said no.
Cj and I then told them about our 1 A.M visitor attempting to get into the RV.
My cousin Steve mentioned that he heard and saw someone moving through camp but he assumed it was someone hanging out by the fire. He said the shadow was large and for sure wasn’t an animal his mom was worried about cougar and us youngsters running around. Some ideas of pranksters
He said the shadow was large and for sure wasn’t an animal his mom was worried about cougar and us youngsters running around. Some ideas of pranksters was tossed around or maybe a bear scratching its back on the RV or trying to get inside for the food.
I did mention CJ’s own visual, and that is when the prankster talk started.
My grandmother who is passed on now, she had the bloodline of several tribes and she had the stories. So the hairy man was told that morning and you know the story, it’s pretty common but as young teens we were ready to hunt this thing down with our slingshots. Oh, and our 22 rifles used for taken down overly aggressive beer cans.
A blind dude and his cousin ready to take out bigfoot using medieval level weaponry. I miss them days just a little bit. Now that we had the idea of bigfoot in our minds we investigated and found a large handprint left in blood on the window with the broken panel.
The door handle had, what seemed to be we thought, a bloody finger print smeared.
On the roof we found a dead raccoon missing its head with a pool of blood baking in the sun later that day. After this discovery all children slept in the vehicles and the camping trip was cut short by a few days, we would of stayed for two weeks but, only stayed for about four days.
I found out later on from my Gramps that he found a large footprint down near the creek directly across from one of the rock stacks. This still makes my mind turn at times, were these big creatures intelligent enough to come up with tactics to steal from campers?
The third day we went out to a nearby fishing area that was up the road I remember, just a few miles and, because we were adults in our mind, we thought it was cool to ride in the bed of the truck drinking sodas and talking about fishing.
We even had enough time to prep our poles with hooks and weights ready for catfish and bass.
The fishing was pretty decent and we finished around nine or so, it was twilight and the moon was rising. While on the way back to camp, however, CJ noticed a large black figure walking up on a logged out hillside.
The figure was moving from one side of the clearing to the other side and did so at a swift run. CJ and I were certain it was bigfoot and camping was getting interesting.
My family may or may not remember this as clearly as I do, but for some reason I have an excellent memory, and I spend my free time writing. This is the basic story I’ve told to friends multiple times, I didn’t add any details to make it seem fictionalized, I stuck to the events as they happened.
The location is real and the only names I’ve changed are my family members for their own privacy. Throughout my adult life I’ve had other experiences out in the woods of Washington that leads me to believe humans aren’t alone and bears don’t build tree structures or stack rocks for increased coverage.
My friends have their own experiences with the hairy man and together we feel they’re out there and we should leave them be.
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