sasquatch chronicles blog

The Confessionals writes “The veil between the natural and the spiritual is thinner than ever. In this live broadcast, we explore the terrifying and glorious reality of worlds colliding. Is the “Upside Down” manifesting in our world actually the beginning of the Great Tribulation?

We are diving deep into the Apocalypse, the rise of darkness from beneath the earth, and the ultimate hope found in the Return of Christ. Join us as we discuss how spiritual warfare is manifesting into physical reality and what you need to do to be ready for the final clash.”

The incident took place in the Smokey Mountain National Park. A listener writes “My girlfriend and I were hiking a trail in the park late one afternoon.

We were completely alone and a couple of miles in when we stopped to debate whether or not to continue, as it was starting to get late.

At that exact moment, we heard a thunderous tree break directly above us on a ridge less than 50 yards away.

We looked at each other and both said, “What the hell was that?” Without hesitation, we turned around and started back toward the car at a fast pace.

As we were heading out, I looked up toward the ridge and noticed a tree standing in a small clearing. Even from a distance, it was obvious the break was fresh. The tree wasn’t very large roughly 8 to 12 inches in diameter and the break appeared to be about 6 to 8 feet off the ground. It was hard to judge the exact height from where we stood, and we were both pretty shaken, so our main focus was just getting out of there.

That was the extent of the experience. At the time, we both felt it could have been a Sasquatch, but then again what are the odds?

This happened on a very secluded trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park on August 18th of last summer. It was early evening, around 80 degrees, with no wind at all.

The other night, while going through photos from that hike, I noticed something unusual. In a couple of pictures, there appears to be something looking at us through the heavily camouflaged foliage along the side of the trail less than ten yards away.

I know you’re a busy guy, but I wanted to reach out and get your opinion on this. Would it be okay if I sent you the two photos?

Thank you for your time.”

A listener writes “I’m from Louisville, Kentucky. This all happened about 42 years ago when I was just a little kid, but it’s something I’ve never forgotten. Even though I never actually saw anything, I always had the feeling that something was walking along the tree line as I walked down the road.

At that age, I’d never even heard of Bigfoot or anything like that, so I had no idea what it could be.

Back then, my mom and stepdad had some friends who lived out in the country. It was one of those roads where one side was thick woods and the other side had scattered trailers and houses. They would sit inside playing cards, and since I was the only kid, I’d entertain myself the way most country kids do playing in the creek, catching frogs, and wandering around.

That’s when I’d notice this awful smell. It was like pig slop mixed with rotting flesh and body odor a terrible combination. Around the same time, I’d hear twigs snapping and branches breaking in the woods, loud enough to make you stop and listen. I always figured it was someone’s dog running loose. It was pitch black out there no streetlights, no city glow so I never saw anything, but you knew something was there.

Fast forward to high school. We moved to a small country town, the kind with just a single flashing caution light. I became close friends with a guy named Wayne, and it turned out he lived off the same road where my parents’ friends had lived years earlier. His house was a standard two story brick place, deep in the woods and surrounded by what was basically a junkyard of old cars and trucks.

One night, Wayne’s uncle told us about something he’d seen a few times while he was outside peeing because, you know, country boys are just told to go outside. He called it the “goatman.” He said it was half man, half animal. He described one night walking out of the basement and seeing it coming down the wooded hill behind the house, with glowing red eyes. He called it a goat, but now that I’m older, I wonder if he might have been talking about a dogman instead. I’m not sure what he saw, but it clearly scared him.

Late at night, we’d hear screams coming from the woods sounds that didn’t seem normal at all. At the time, we didn’t really know what to think. Later on, stories about Bigfoot started coming out, and it made you wonder. Again, none of us ever actually saw anything, but you could feel it. That feeling where the hair stands up all over your body, like when you sense something supernatural nearby.

I’m sure there are more details I could share, but I’ve honestly never talked about this with anyone before. I always figured people would think I was nuts, crazy as a squirrel turd so I kept it to myself.

The last thing I’ll mention happened one afternoon when we were walking the creeks to fish and swim, since there wasn’t much else to do in that small town. We were fishing under a bridge when something started hurling rocks into the creek. We couldn’t see who or what was doing it, but it was scaring the fish away and making me mad.

After a few more rocks, I’d had enough. I slammed my fishing pole down and climbed up to the top of the bridge, yelling a few choice words at whoever was throwing them. When I got up there, there was no one, nothing in sight. That just made me angrier, thinking it had to be some punk kids messing with us. But there wasn’t a single soul around.

At that point, I told my buddy I’d had enough and started walking back home.”

Wildman of the Woods writes “What if your first encounter with Bigfoot happened as a child and followed you for the rest of your life?

This documentary follows David Cleaver, a lifelong investigator whose experiences with Sasquatch, also known as Bigfoot, span decades across Texas, the Brazos River corridor, and the Texas Hill Country. Unlike sensationalized television shows, David’s story is rooted in firsthand encounters, physical evidence, historical research, and years spent deep off-trail in places few people ever go.

David’s journey begins with a terrifying childhood encounter behind his grandparents’ home in North Texas an encounter so human and intelligent that it defied explanation. Years later, a second encounter at Camp Grady Spruce in 1969 involved multiple witnesses, physical contact, and a roar powerful enough to shake seasoned outdoorsmen. While the world watched the moon landing, David was left trying to understand something far closer to home.

As his search continued, David uncovered a pattern of Sasquatch activity along the Brazos River, one of Texas’ most important wildlife corridors. From missing livestock and unexplained animal remains to vocalizations, infrasound effects, and intelligent ambush behavior, the evidence suggested something far more complex than folklore. Historical accounts like the legendary “Brazos Man” and Hugo’s Monster echo the same locations David would later investigate firsthand.”

Tonight I will be speaking with Nicole and I discuss these videos she captured, Nicole writes “While I don’t fully understand everything that’s been happening, I strongly feel that these experiences have purpose and meaning. There is much more involving the orbs that I would love to share with you.”

Check it out below, I have put three of her video’s together.

From The Shadows writes “Christians Avoiding Monsters” is a new book by Author Derek Davis. In it he asks the question why the American church ignores high strangeness in the world. We explore possible answers for the denial, and if there are answers to what people are experiencing when it comes to the paranormal.”

Join National Geographic to examine some of the world’s strangest mysteries. Is a body found perfectly preserved in a Danish bog a 2,400-year-old cold case? Or is this something else entirely? Can discoveries about the fundamental nature of the universe allow a strange machine to identify disease?

The bust of Nefertiti reveals a woman with iconic beauty, but beneath the flawless surface, was she really quite so perfect?

A listener writes “This experience happened during an autumn fishing trip for brook trout in one of the most isolated regions of the Adirondack Mountains.

To reach this area is no small task. First, you have to cross a reservoir by boat an eight mile ride across water that itself lies nearly forty miles from the nearest town. Once across, you reach the trailhead. From there, the route winds past a series of ponds deeper into the wilderness.

The first leg is a 1.2 mile hike to the first lake. From there, you can either hike around it or paddle straight across. My fishing partner and I use Kevlar/carbon-fiber canoes light enough to carry, so if weather allows, we paddle the lake instead. That lake is roughly two miles long. After taking out on the far side, the trail continues another 1.5 miles into the Five Ponds Wilderness.

At the second lake, the trail turns north and becomes more of a bushwhack through old-growth timber, with mountains rising on both sides. That stretch is another two miles, heading deeper into the wilderness until you finally reach the destination lake. This area is considered one of the three most isolated locations in the entire Adirondack Park relative to civilization.

It’s an absolutely stunning place completely secluded, ringed by mountains, with water that looks glacial and holds trophy class brook trout. It’s truly one of my favorite places on Earth.

We arrived around mid-morning on the first day and immediately started fishing. We caught plenty of fish, and everything felt normal. As evening approached, we gathered firewood, set up our tents, cooked dinner, and sat around talking. At one point, I stood up and did a Bigfoot call followed by a loud tree knock. It was something we used to do as a joke in less remote areas to mess with other campers.

My buddy laughed, and we turned in for the night.

Sometime in the middle of the night, we were jolted awake by the sound of a large tree falling not far from camp. It scared the hell out of us. The night was completely calm no wind at all. What struck us immediately was the silence. No peeper frogs. No wood frogs. No loons on the lake. No breeze. Just absolute stillness. It felt wrong.

We stayed in our tents until around 4:30 a.m., when we were awakened again this time by a rhythmic pounding, like something repeatedly striking a tree. The hits were forceful, evenly spaced, about every three seconds. It continued steadily until after sunrise, coming from the direction of the trailhead.

We tried to rationalize it. I suggested a woodpecker, though I didn’t believe it. Then I floated the idea that maybe two moose were sparring since it was close to the rut but neither of us bought that either. The consistency and power of the blows didn’t feel natural. It also made us rethink the fallen tree from earlier. I wondered if it could’ve been a beaver, since they’re nocturnal and nearby ponds were close but none of it fully added up.

We eventually got moving, launched the canoes, and spent the day fishing. We practice catch and release unless a fish is mortally wounded, which unfortunately happened that day. We kept that fish, cooked it for dinner, then went back out on the water until dark.

As we paddled back to camp at twilight, I noticed what looked like a dark shape partially concealed behind a massive old-growth pine that leaned out over the lake. It was nearly night, and the woods were pitch black but whatever this was appeared darker than the surrounding darkness. I chalked it up to my imagination and kept paddling.

Later, as we were getting ready to crawl into our tents, I noticed lights hovering over the lake. I’d seen these before on a few occasions. There was one main light above the water, and smaller lights would split off from it, drifting away on either side. Eventually, the main light dimmed, and the smaller lights faded out entirely.

I’ll be honest I’m terrified of aliens, and having seen unexplained things before, I was already on edge. Lying in my tent, I suddenly felt heavy thuds on the ground. I yelled to Casey and grabbed my headlamp, assuming a black bear had wandered into camp.

When I stepped out, I found a snowshoe hare at my feet.

This was the largest hare I’ve ever seen and it showed absolutely no fear. It hopped right up to me and just sat there, right next to my boots. We couldn’t understand why a wild animal would act that way. It was as if it was seeking shelter. The hare stayed by the fire with us like it was an old friend. Eventually, I went back to my tent and left it there by the fire.

Later that night, another tree fell nearby. We lay in our tents talking quietly about it before eventually drifting off. Once again, near dawn, the tree pounding started same cadence, same duration continuing until the sun came up.

That day, we headed to the north end of the lake, where a massive dome-shaped mountain rises with cliffs and sweeping views. That end of the lake acts like a natural amphitheater. Casey decided to hike the mountain to try to get cell service and check the weather for our departure.

The climb is brutal you have to crawl on your hands and feet for much of it. The mountain rises about 3,000 feet, with sections that feel nearly vertical. On the back side is an exposed cliff overlooking other ponds, and that’s where you can sometimes get fleeting reception.

While Casey was climbing and calling his wife, I stayed behind fishing along the opposite shoreline, parallel to the mountain. At one point, I saw trees moving on the slope and assumed it was him. I yelled out his nickname.

“Is that you, Poop?!”

What answered me was one of the most nerve wracking sounds I’ve ever heard a blood-curdling scream that sounded like a woman being murdered, assaulted, and losing a child all at once. I know that sounds extreme, but it’s the only way I can describe it.

Worse still, whatever made that sound was moving fast crashing through trees and running across terrain so steep we’d had to crawl up it earlier. The scream shook me to my core. I was convinced Casey was dying.

I gathered myself and paddled hard toward the sound, yelling his name. No response. Eventually, he came down the mountain. I confronted him, telling him not to mess around like that I thought he was in serious trouble.

He looked at me completely confused and said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He told me he’d been on the far side of the mountain facing another pond. He heard something faint but assumed I’d hooked a big brook trout or was yelling in excitement.

That night was deeply unsettling. The woods felt wrong unnaturally silent. It sounded like people talking at the far end of the pond, always just out of earshot, followed by faint, distant screams throughout the night.

Morning couldn’t come fast enough.

We woke again to the same rhythmic tree pounding. This time, I decided to investigate. I headed toward the sound, crossing a creek and climbing a nearby hill. As soon as I reached the area where I believed it was coming from, it stopped instantly.

That was it. I packed up my gear and canoe, and we got out of there.

About a half mile down the trail on our way out, we passed through a muddy stretch between two hills. In the middle of the mud pit about twenty feet long and twelve feet wide was a single, distinct footprint. It looked as if something had stepped straight down into the mud from the hillside and climbed back out the other side.

I took a video, which I later lost when I misplaced the SD card, but I did save a screenshot that I still have. Inside the print was a mature beech leaf typically three to five inches long placing the track somewhere between twelve and fifteen inches in length.

I don’t know what was going on out there. I’ve spent my entire life in the woods, often solo, and had been to that lake many times before without issue. I’ve only returned once since, in 2018. Other hardcore backcountry anglers I know have mentioned strange feelings in that area, though nothing as intense.

This wasn’t the only odd experience I’ve had in that wilderness either. Another incident occurred even deeper in the Five Ponds Wilderness among untouched old growth forest stranger still. You couldn’t pay me to hike the one way, eleven plus miles back in there again.

Something is going on in that section of the Adirondacks. I’ve heard stories from others that only reinforce that feeling.

As a final oddity, on our way out that day, Casey and I ran into two armed military personnel carrying AR-style rifles. They were friendly, walked us back toward their camp, showed us around, and then escorted us partway before we continued to our vehicle.

The whole experience was strange, start to finish and it’s stayed with me ever since.”

Grassman58 writes “While camping at Gypsy Meadows, Curtis shares his thoughts on the tracks they found the following year.”

From The Shadows writes “Bigfoot researcher, podcaster, and television star Stacy Brown Jr. joins Shane and the Howler on this week’s special New Year’s Eve episode.

We talk about Christmas, Stacy’s new podcast The Bigfoot Underground, and some predictions for 2026. Join us for some end of the year nonsense and laughs on this week’s Midweek Howl.”

Cliff Barackman and Shane Corson discover and cast numerous sasquatch footprints at a location in Mt. Hood National Forest. This video was originally published in December 2024 to the members of the North American Bigfoot Center.

Happy New Year! Wishing you a year filled with good health, happiness, and success. May the new year bring new opportunities, fresh beginnings, and plenty of reasons to smile.

All the best in the year ahead!

Easter Island’s famous tall stone moai are mostly similar in appearance. Why is only one kneeling and wearing a beard? The US military has developed plenty of top-secret gizmos, but did they really build a flying saucer in the 1950s? In the 1700s, did physician Franz Anton Mesmer really cure all ills, as he claimed, with a giant wooden bucket?

In this episode of Mysteries Unknown, Chad shares a chilling firsthand account of a series of encounters that began years ago in rural Louisiana and escalated near Fouke, Arkansas one of the most infamous locations connected to unexplained sightings.

What started as strange whistles in the woods turned into repeated and deeply unsettling experiences involving a camper, violent impacts, unexplained growls, and a presence so close it left him completely unable to move. Chad describes moments of intense fear paralysis as something circled his camper in the darkness, just feet away, unseen but unmistakably there.

Over time, the activity didn’t stop. From massive dents in the camper to something physically pushing against it, missing deer carcasses, disturbed hunting areas, and sightings under distant lights that revealed unnatural movement and proportions whatever this was, it kept returning.

Explore Grays Harbor’s Bigfoot activity with Salish Sasquatch. This documentary features eyewitness accounts, intriguing audio recordings, and the strategic placement of recording devices in a lush forest environment.

Campers recount unexplained thuds, knocks, and even a possible vocalization.

Thomas Jane is an American actor and executive producer. He’s known for his roles in films like Boogie Nights, Deep Blue Sea, The Punisher, and The Mist. Thomas details his spooky encounter with an unknown creature as a child.

A listener writes “I’m 44 years old, and I’ve been listening to your show for years. Over time, I’ve realized how much comfort people seem to get from hearing these kinds of accounts.

I’ve been reluctant to share my own experience, but I feel like this story needs to be told. It may even help explain a lot to people who live in the area where this happened.

This took place in mid-November of 2019, during the height of COVID. At the time, I was doing outdoor construction work with my father-in-law, who owned his own business. We were building a pool for a client in Meadow Vista, California. That day we got off early because we ran out of materials. It didn’t make sense to send everyone to the yard and back with daylight running out, so we shut it down early.

I had been trying to find time to harvest a Christmas tree from the Sierra Nevada region, east of Auburn, and this suddenly felt like the perfect opportunity. I knew I needed a permit, so I left the job and headed straight to the ranger station on Wentworth Springs Road near Georgetown. They closed around 4:30 or 5:00 p.m., and it was about 2:00–2:30 when I made the decision. The station was about an hour and a half away, so I hustled. I got there in time, picked up the permit, and realized I was already close to the spot where I planned to cut a tree.

I knew exactly where I wanted to go about a 45 minute drive deeper into the forest. As I drove down the narrow, one-lane road toward the trailhead, the sun was setting. Snow covered the road, and my truck at the time was only two-wheel drive. I wasn’t prepared for those conditions, but turning around wasn’t really an option. I figured I’d make it to the trailhead, where I could turn around and follow my own tracks back out.

By the time I arrived, the sun had fully set. The trail was a well established hiking and motocross trail, so I didn’t need a light to follow it, but I did need one to find a decent tree. I put on my headlamp and walked down the trail until I reached a familiar opening. That’s where I found the tree I wanted. I was genuinely excited, I’d found the perfect one.

I pulled out my saw and started cutting, but almost immediately the old wooden handle broke in my hand. Earlier that day I’d even thought to myself, this saw probably won’t hold up, but it was all I had. Then I remembered seeing Les Stroud use a knife and a sturdy stick as a makeshift hatchet. I had a full tang Buck knife on my belt, so I found a solid piece of wood and used it to chop the tree down. Surprisingly, it worked incredibly well faster and easier than using a saw.

By now, it was completely dark.

As I started dragging the tree back toward my truck, I began hearing movement in the snow off the trail—on both sides of me. It felt like I was being followed, but not from behind. When I stopped, whatever it was stopped too. The sounds stayed roughly 15 to 25 feet off the trail on either side. When I picked up my pace, the movement matched it.

This continued all the way back until I reached the barrier that blocks vehicles from driving down the trail. As I threw the tree into the bed of my truck, I heard what sounded like someone talking behind me. I felt a presence not necessarily evil, but unmistakably there. I felt eyes on me, Wes.

Winter forests are usually quiet, but that night it was quieter than quiet eerily silent. I got into my truck and left, carefully but steadily. I haven’t been back since.

What makes this even stranger is that I had an experience at that same trailhead when I was about 12 years old. My dad and I had just finished a long summer hike and returned to the car around 9:30 at night. We were standing about 50 feet to the right of the trail opening, eating sandwiches. The gravel road was 75 to 100 feet to our left, and across it was a gulch with a creek running through it.

We were mid-conversation when we suddenly heard what sounded like a heavy log being thrown violently against the hillside inside that gulch. We both froze, then instinctively grabbed each other like Scooby-Doo and Shaggy. We packed up and left immediately.

If and when you read this, I just want people to know that this is not a fabrication. This really happened. I’ve only shared it with a handful of people over the years. Some believed me, some didn’t. I’ve always been hesitant to talk about it. I never actually saw a creature, and I suppose it could have been people—but when I look at the area on Google Maps, there’s nothing nearby that explains what I experienced.

I honestly don’t know what it was.”

A listener writes “I’ll start with a couple of stories from the 1990s that my father told me. At the time, he worked as a tree planter for Weyerhaeuser. One day, he and another guy were driving logging roads near Kalama when they stopped so my dad could use the bathroom. He said he could see the river through the trees below the embankment.

When he finished, he noticed what he thought was a round cut log near his feet. He casually kicked it down the hill only for a large, black, hairy creature to jump up onto two legs. According to my dad, it immediately took off, running straight across the river. He estimated the distance to be about two football fields, and the thing covered it in roughly ten seconds. My dad has told this story the same way for as long as I can remember, without ever changing the details. I can get more specifics if needed.

Another time, while my dad was planting trees for Weyerhaeuser, an upper-management employee was out inspecting sites. This guy had left his truck window down. One of the workers my dad planted with stole a map from the truck so he and my dad could locate Weyerhaeuser gates for hunting later. What stood out was that the map had Bigfoot stamps marked at various locations areas where Weyerhaeuser apparently knew Sasquatch sightings had occurred.

Now for the two experiences I was personally involved in.

The first happened in the summer of around 2005, above Riffe Lake near Mossyrock. It was my first real hiking and camping trip, and I was about eleven or twelve years old. We hiked six miles into Vanson Lake in the Goat Mountains and stayed for four days. The group included my dad, one of his friends and his wife, their dog, a buddy of mine, and me. My friend and I shared a tent for the first couple of nights, but on the third night my dad offered space in his larger tent, so I moved my sleeping bag there.

Sometime during the night, I woke up to my dad saying, “What is that sound?” Across the lake which isn’t very big something was hollering louder than anything I’d ever heard in my life. I was absolutely terrified. The dog was lying outside the tent near my head, growling nonstop. My dad asked me if I heard it, and all I could do was shake and say yes. He stepped outside and fired his .22 pistol into the lake to scare whatever it was away. Eventually, the noise stopped.

About ten minutes after my dad got back into the tent, the dog started growling again, and my fear came rushing back. This cycle continued for what felt like hours until I finally fell asleep. What’s strange is that my buddy never woke up once through any of it.

Years later, I listened to Bigfoot Society episode 628, “Deadman’s Lake,” and the encounter described was incredibly similar to mine. It happened around the same year, and Vanson Lake is only about a six-mile hike from Deadman’s Lake. The sound was comparable to the Ohio howl recordings, mixed with the Klamath sounds but more like a scream. I never saw the creature, but I’ll never forget that sound.

The final experience happened during one of our annual boys’ trips. Every summer, my friends and I head out to a remote lake, usually kayaking across with our gear so we can avoid other people. That year, we chose Lake Ozette on the Olympic Peninsula. There were six of us, and we stayed for four nights at a small beach area called Ericsons Bay. Our tents were a few minutes’ walk from the shoreline.

I brought a bivy sack that year because I was still uneasy about sleeping after my earlier experience. I also had an inflatable hammock and seriously considered sleeping alone on the beach that night. Typically, on the second and third nights, we play Dungeons & Dragons pretty nerdy, but it’s tradition. On the last night, after finishing our game around midnight or 1 a.m., everyone went to bed except one buddy and me. The fire had burned down to glowing coals, just bright enough to see each other, and the moonlight was strong as well. We stayed on the beach talking for a couple of hours.

Around 3 a.m., between us and the South Sand Point hiking trail, we heard a howl that sounded exactly like the Ohio recordings. I knew immediately what it was. My friend started getting nervous and asked what the sound was. It was loud and close, and it kept howling repeatedly for five to ten minutes. Eventually, we had enough. Just before leaving the beach, I shined my very bright flashlight into the area where the sound was coming from. The noise stopped instantly and completely, which was incredibly unsettling.

We went back to our sleeping areas, and nothing else happened that night. The next morning, we told the rest of the group what we’d heard. None of them had heard the howls, but more than one person said they thought I was messing with them earlier because they heard something snuffling and sniffing around camp like a pig or some kind of animal.

My personal guess is that whatever was on the beach was either calling to another one or warning it and when the noise stopped, it may have realized we were heading back toward camp.”