Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I’ve had a few strange things happen in my 60+ years living here in Washington. I’m out in Lewis County on the west side where it meets Pacific County.

The first thing that ever stuck with me happened in 1979. My brother‑in‑law and I were driving to a friend’s house one morning. Up on a hillside where the big powerlines run down toward a substation, I saw a figure standing there. Tall, completely black. I said, “Look up there it looks like a guy in a gorilla suit!” We turned around to get a better look, but it was gone. Only years later did I learn that sightings along powerlines are actually pretty common.

A couple years later, around the summer of 1980, a bunch of us were camping and partying at the Boistfort Lions Club Park a tiny little campsite off Pe Ell, McDonald Road. I was there with my older brother (a Vietnam‑era vet), his girlfriend, and some of my wilder friends. They were drinking hard liquor, shooting guns, fighting… doing all the crazy stuff people did back then. I could feel things turning volatile, so I decided to leave and walk home. It was around 1:30–2 a.m.

I grabbed the axe we brought for cutting firewood and headed out. No cars passed me the entire eight‑mile walk. It was absolutely pitch-black overcast, no stars, no streetlights, no flashlight. On a few stretches where the trees canopy over the road, I literally couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. At one point, something started walking beside me in the ditch. When I stopped, it stopped. I slammed the axe down into the gravel and yelled, trying to scare whatever it was away. I was 17, terrified, but still more scared of staying back there with that group. I finally made it to my sister’s house a mile outside of Pe Ell, tapped on their window, and crashed there. Years later I learned that Sasquatch is known for pacing people out of the woods. Honestly, I thank God I made it home, I could have easily been a Missing 411 case. (Funny enough, David Paulides recently covered a woman who vanished from that same road her home was just down from the powerlines.)

In 2017, I was offered the chance to be the caretaker of a small farmstead about 30 acres at the end of a dead‑end road. Beyond the property is nothing but wilderness all the way to the coast. My sons had all moved out, I wanted something smaller and cheaper, and honestly it felt like a blessing. I’ve been here seven years now.

But when I first moved in, something felt… off. The previous caretakers had suddenly abandoned the place. Clothes still in the closets, food in the fridge and cupboards. They left the keys with a note that said “We had to go.” I still have the note. The landowners are good people, so I never understood why anyone would bail on such a sweet setup unless something pushed them out. I suspect they poached heavily. I found multiple deer hides near the shop and a bear hide hanging inside. There were tree stands near the fruit trees. Nobody lives close enough to notice.

After the place sat empty for over a year, I moved in. Had to deal with a mouse infestation and a house full of someone else’s belongings. And sometimes… I felt watched. While working in the garden one evening, something up on the wooded hillside above me let out a growl almost like something imitating a dog. A “woof.” Gave me chills. I wrapped up and went inside. Occasionally, rocks would roll down my metal roof. No idea from where.

One day I called my son over to look at something in the trees up the hill. It looked like a blue tarp strung between branches like someone was camping up there. We got out binoculars and started scanning, and suddenly a huge tree came crashing down. No wind, calm summer evening just a massive crack and collapse. We looked at each other like What the hell was that?

We hiked up the next day. No campsite. No tarp. Nothing.

A couple weeks later, I was sitting on the porch on a Sunday morning and another tree came crashing down this time behind the shop. Again, no wind. Another time at around 8:00 a.m., I heard a scream from deep in the woods behind the house. Not a cougar scream. More like a pissed‑off woman. There are no public roads back there.

I’m not a hunter just have chickens, goats, and a couple turkeys. A friend dropped off a couple feral cats, which multiplied and ended up solving the mouse problem for good. My neighbors had some horses, so I let them graze my fields. I had two dogs when I moved here. One morning I let them out and coyotes took one. Only then did I realize my old dog, Boogie a small mixed‑breed was deaf. The other dog had been his ears. Boogie lived to 16 and passed away this past December. Losing him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through.

One night, around 2 a.m., Boogie woke me to go outside. As I looked toward the barn, I saw two dim orange lights glowing from one of the windows. I figured it was the electric fence for the horses, but the fence is solar‑powered and sits about 20 yards from the barn. These lights persisted even when I shined my flashlight on them about two or three inches across, dark orange fading into brighter orange, with what looked like a pupil.

I didn’t go down there that night. I checked the barn the next morning. There was nothing inside that could’ve produced those lights. No electricity whatsoever. Later I learned some people claim Sasquatch eyes can glow on their own. All I know is I’m glad I didn’t go any closer.”