Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I am a lifelong Kentuckian of 39 years. I should have emailed you long ago as I have been a fan of your incredible show and platform that I consider a cornerstone institution of Sasquatch cryptology.

I shared a series of 3 consecutive encounters with an individual male Sasquatch with some of my childhood friends the summer before our senior year of highschool in Wolfe County Kentucky.

As the summer vacation was winding down before the start of our final year of highschool me and my friends knew the campouts and summer vacations we’d shared for so many years would not be the same once our final year of school was completed and our lives inevitably shifted into adulthood. At 17 years of age I had already signed my military contract and was scheduled for basic immediately following graduation.

We had over the years spent countless nights camping under the cliff overhangs colloquially known as ‘ rock houses’, even going as far as installing carpet remnants and constructing elaborate stone fire pits and enjoying all night arrowhead digging with our own large, custom built, mesh screen sifters. Several of us local boys were quite knowledgeable about native American artifacts. We were All American eastern Kentucky lads, most of us having fairly impressive gun collections as teenagers, trophy white tail racks, and native arrowhead & pottery collections.

On a whim we decided to camp down at one of our favorite cave houses situated within the Daniel Boone National Forest. I grew up on a rural spread in the D Boone(as we refer to it).

It was in July of 1995 and as the 3 of us finished collecting supplies for a comfortable overnight we were joined by two other local boys from our senior class. Those two hadn’t spent as much time roaming the creeks and ridges as myself and my two compadres but they wanted to share in the last of the summer fun.

All five of us brought our favorite guns & snacks and we trecked down to our humble abode for the night. We built a small fire from our extensive cache of firewood to cook on and settled in for an evening of cave ash sifting, a cold beer or two and profanity laced fish tales.

When we were much younger and were spending our first nights on our own campout adventures my retired Air Force father would hike down at a late hour and just check on us and then hike an hour or two back home.

I mention this because the first encounter began with footsteps approaching our camp. My closest friend asked me if my father could be hiking down to check up on us? I told him and the others it was very unlikely as it had been some time since he had done that but not to worry as it could mean there was a family emergency or other.

As I listened to the footsteps approaching I commented on how much heavier the foot steps were compared to one of us walking up the same path.

None of my companions seriously considered my observation. And the bipedal individual walked to point approximately 80 feet down the sloping hill below the cliff overhang we were set up in. It was a curious situation with whatever or whoever had come to visit was now silently lingering below us. Between the five of us we had ten firearms strewn about the rock house. And being together next to our camp fire we felt only mild apprehension and some guarded curiosity. I had already began considering what we possibly had on our hands as Sasquatch was a semi regular visitor in our neighborhood with numerous sightings in my family over the many years.

My suggestion to the same was met with stiffled laughter but I paid my friends no mind. They believed it could only be my father checking up on us even though he had stopped doing such a few years earlier.

The two local boys that had joined our outing seemed to be the most unsettled and busied themselves preparing a meal for themselves as a diversion. One of my oldest friends never quit sifting for arrowheads only commenting “if it comes up here just shoot it”. So two of us stepped beyond the edge of the firelight allowing our eyes to adjust and used two D cell flashlights to try and identify what we had apparently standing behind a large poplar tree. The first thing we noticed was two red eyes opening and closing peeking from the edge of the tree. Eventually stepping half way out from behind the poplar tree the two of us saw that this was not a human but a Bigfoot covered in grey / white hair. I mentally marked a spot near its head for measurement later which showed it to be 7 1/2 feet tall.

This whole encounter had lasted twenty minutes at that point. The stocky creature eventually easing out from behind the tree giving us a fair gander at him. Wes, it’s face was human and reminded me of an 80 year old Irishman. The only hair on his face was what looked like naturally grown mutton chops. My friend prodded me to walk up to it and see if I could shake it’s hand which was simply another of our standard & ludicrous challenges posed amongst each other, these inevitably involved something of the stupid and dangerous variety.

It never made a peep standing behind the largest poplar below center of the rock house. Walking up to our location it walked the same path we had. And it didn’t seem to concern itself with being heard as it walked up to us either.

After finally, and seemingly purposely stepping out from his tree and allowing us a good ten second look at him he eased back behind the tree and stood there silently for enough time to pass my friend and I went back up under the cliff. Later on I surmised it had done this purposely however, when it set off on a diagonal path out of the holler it sounded as if it huffed & puffed in some frustration as if he had wasted time he could have been golfing.”