Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I live in Alberta, Canada, and I never imagined “Sasquatch” would ever be something I’d have to seriously consider in my life. But a couple of years ago, your podcast came on during a long road trip. Since then, I’ve listened to most of the episodes, and a lot of what I heard began to connect some strange, unexplainable events that all happened in one particular area I used to hunt west of the town of Caroline.

Here’s a summary of those events, roughly by year:

May 2005

I was dirt‑biking in the area over a three‑day scouting trip.

Day 1:
A whitetail doe ran straight toward our group. She stayed close within about 20 meters for nearly an hour, constantly looking back into the forest as if something was following her. It wasn’t normal deer behavior at all.

Day 2:
A trail we had ridden several times the day before was suddenly blocked. A stick structure had been built across it using freshly uprooted trees, placed root‑ball up. It wasn’t there the previous day.

Aug 2005

I was walking the same area, looking for places to set up an archery hunt. I returned to the trail that had been blocked, and found a freshly built tree stand. I climbed up to mark the location on my GPS, hoping to avoid the spot during hunting season. I wasn’t getting good signal, so I waited. While I was up there, something started running circles around the base of the tree. Several times more than five, I saw the brush moving as something ran by, but I never saw what it was. It was loud, close, and fast, but completely invisible. Whatever it was seemed determined to get my attention while staying hidden.

I climbed down to check for tracks and found nothing. I moved on to another trail and continued scouting. About a kilometer away, a medium‑sized tree in front of me started shaking violently. My first thought was that a moose or elk was rubbing its antlers on it.

But as I approached, binoculars first, then close enough that binoculars were pointless,  I never saw anything near the tree.

It would shake only when I moved. If I stopped and stared directly at it, the shaking stopped. If I turned away, it started again.

The whole experience was strange, but at the time it didn’t scare me just left me puzzled. I chose not to hunt the area that year.

Nov 2006

A normal, uneventful, successful hunt. No strange encounters.

Nov 2007

I set up in a small ground blind under a tree. After about two hours of nothing, I suddenly heard or more accurately felt  a loud “pop.”

The sound hit me like someone had pressed stadium speakers against my entire body and blasted the sound of a tongue-click through me. I was instantly overwhelmed with fear and couldn’t move. For a moment I honestly thought I’d been shot, but the sensation was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. After the feeling faded, I left the area immediately.

Nov 2008

This time I was hunting on private family land, about 10 km from the previous area. While walking a trail, I spotted what looked like a family wearing matching brown snowmobile suits hooded figures, slightly peaked at the top, with almost no neck showing. But it was warm that day, so the clothing made no sense.

I didn’t have binoculars, and I didn’t raise my rifle to look, they looked like people. I figured I’d just talk to them later and ask who else was out in the area. I moved to a clearcut and set up in a pile of deadfall. After about an hour, I was hit with the exact same “mouth‑pop” blast as the previous year. Same paralysis. Same overwhelming fear. Same inability to open my eyes. When it passed, I left immediately.

Nov 2020

I pulled my trailer into the same area where we dirt‑biked in 2005, planning to stay until I filled a tag. But after the first day, the trailer began having strange power issues and wouldn’t hold a charge, so I packed up early. During that trip, I discovered an unusual trackway in the snow. I didn’t think to take a photo. The tracks were large, spaced extremely far apart, the stride was about four times mine and almost perfectly in‑line. The snow had a crust over deep sugar snow, so each step was just a deep impression without drag marks or scuffing. I followed the tracks with mild curiosity until they disappeared on a patch of dry ground. I returned to my truck and trailer, packed up, and left.

None of these experiences on their own prove that a large, occasionally invisible man‑ape is living in the Canadian forest. But taken together, I can’t help feeling that something outside the accepted list of wildlife is out there. Something we aren’t supposed to have at least not officially. Whatever it is, it’s real enough that I no longer dismiss the possibility.”