Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I’m writing to share an encounter I had back in the summer of 2023 during a church camp trip to Kentucky—something similar to a Habitat for Humanity project. I’m now 23 years old and have been traveling with my church group to this area for the past nine years. The camp is located in a heavily wooded region near Boonville and Beattyville, Kentucky, though I prefer not to disclose the exact location as the property is still owned by our church.

There’s a main cabin on the property with bathrooms, a kitchen, and sleeping areas for the older volunteers. The rest of us sleep in tents. The property itself is about 120 by 390 yards, with tents positioned on both the entrance side and across the field. Three years ago, I pitched my tent near the boys’ side, right along the forest’s edge. The back of my tent faced directly into the woods.

That year, a neighboring homeowner had two new dogs—an older male German shepherd and a young female black lab. Most nights, the black lab would bolt toward the eastern treeline and bark uncontrollably. Many of us would wake up and yell for it to stop, but it never listened. I often heard it running around as it barked, while the German shepherd followed more quietly. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I remembered the neighbor had owned a brown and white dog in previous years, but it was gone. I later asked and found out it had gone missing—presumed dead after wandering into the woods. The owner believed it was sick, and said it wasn’t uncommon for dogs in that area to disappear, often due to cars or starvation. It’s a very low-income region.

A few nights later, I stepped out of my tent and heard a disturbing, raspy scream coming from the woods. It only lasted a second or two, but it sounded like a throaty, unsettling “Help me!” I have a habit of turning immediately toward unfamiliar sounds in the woods, and this one triggered every instinct I have—my hair stood up. I was frozen, trying to place what kind of animal could possibly make a sound like a human. I soon joined the group at the bonfire, and one of my friends was crying. She’d heard the same thing—a voice yelling for help—but she said it sounded off. That confirmed it wasn’t just in my head. That same night, once again, the black lab barked ferociously toward the forest’s edge.

The most intense part of the encounter happened on our final night, before leaving the next morning. My friends and I had packed up our tents and were sleeping inside the back of the budget truck we’d used to haul gear. There were five of us there. The truck’s rear door was cracked open and facing the main cabin. At some point during the night, I woke up needing to use the outhouse. I slipped out quietly so I wouldn’t wake the others and made my way down the metal ramp. I didn’t have my glasses on. After using the bathroom, I stood beside the truck, admiring the night sky. The moon was bright enough to illuminate the field and treeline without a flashlight. As I scanned the horizon, I noticed subtle movement along the base of the treeline—something very slow, but eerily smooth.

I squinted. At first I wasn’t sure if it was even moving, so I held up my thumb, closed one eye, and used it as a point of reference. Whatever it was did move across my thumb. It was about 150–160 yards away. I focused harder—it looked massive and bulky, almost halfway up the treeline, moving upright but very hunched over. I saw it was covered in hair. I could make out a lighter brown color. Everything about it made me feel deeply uneasy. I backed away slowly, then calmly but quickly went inside the cabin to sleep for the rest of the night.

The next morning, fog blanketed the area as we packed up. I looked back to where I had seen the figure. There was nothing there that could explain what I saw. No object that size. Nothing that could’ve played a trick on my mind. I told one friend, but he just laughed and said he saw alien figures near the shed. That was when I realized I had to keep quiet—most people wouldn’t believe me.

Once I got home and returned to work at the golf course, I started listening to Sasquatch Chronicles. One episode in particular talked about dogs going missing in Appalachia, and suddenly the pieces started coming together. The barking, the missing dogs, the figure I saw that night… It made me reconsider what I had experienced. I still consider myself a skeptic and believe in the need for hard evidence—but looking back, I can’t explain what else it could have been.

I later found out that the black lab went missing too.

This experience has stayed with me. I appreciate your show and the platform you give people to share what they’ve gone through. I listen to it every day while working, and it’s made a big difference for me—helping me understand I’m not the only one who’s seen or heard something they can’t explain. If possible, I’d love the opportunity to speak with you by phone and share more details for your show.

Thank you again for your time and all that you do.”