Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I wanted to share something that happened to me back in 1984 when I was 12. Every June, our family would camp at Alder Creek in Central California, and my uncle’s family usually joined us. My cousins, Gary and Scott, and I would always head to a swimming hole on the creek. My dad was pretty clear that I needed to stay with Gary and not wander off.

Well, after swimming for a bit, I decided to get out and dry off on a rock. As I was lying there, I started hearing a rabbit screaming from up the trail. We used to trap rabbits on my uncle’s farm, so I knew that sound. I told Gary I’d be right back and took off up the trail. Probably about a quarter of a mile up, a large pine tree had fallen across the path. I climbed over it and looked around. I saw something moving in a clearing ahead, which seemed to be where the screaming was coming from, so I jumped down and walked towards it. In the clearing, there was some tall grass and an old log. On the far side of the log, I could see something reddish-brown moving and bumping into it. My first thought was that it was a bear because the whole log would shake when it moved. This log was huge, probably 40 feet long and 2-3 feet thick. Then, the rabbit’s scream suddenly stopped.

This thing stood up, and I froze. What I saw scared the hell out of me, Wes. I had never seen anything that big before. It was massive. If I remember correctly, its skin was a kind of dark grayish color. It didn’t have much hair around its eyes or on its chest and throat, but the hair on its arms seemed longer the closer it got to its hands. At least, that’s what I recall. But I definitely remember seeing that rabbit in its left hand. I don’t know how long I stood there looking at it, and it at me, but I snapped out of it when I heard a sound in the trees behind me. I thought it was my cousin, but when I turned around, there was nothing there. So, I turned back to look at the creature, but it had already walked across the clearing and was going into the tree line, heading down the embankment towards the creek.

Once it disappeared down the hill, I turned to run and realized I had pissed myself. Pretty embarrassing to admit, but it happened. Anyway, I started running back and tried to jump over that fallen tree, but I didn’t make it. I caught my right knee and shin on it and fell, tearing the skin from my knee down to my foot.I got up and took off. When I got back to the swimming hole, my cousins were gone. I knew my dad would be mad. I was so scared that while I was running, I missed the cutoff in the trail that would have taken me back to camp and ended up on a little hill overlooking it. I heard someone yell and saw my mom looking up at me, so I turned and ran down the hill without slowing down. About halfway down, I lost my balance and tumbled the rest of the way.

My dad came over and asked what was chasing me. I told him nothing, that I walked down the trail, and when I got back, Gary and Scott were gone, so I got scared and ran back. I also told him about the tree. They had seen me running and the blood and thought an animal had attacked me. Needless to say, I was grounded to camp for the rest of that day and all the next, but that was fine with me; I really didn’t want to be there anymore anyway.

I didn’t tell anyone what really happened because I was afraid of getting into more trouble or everyone making fun of me. But I do remember that night, my dad and uncle telling a story about when they were teenagers and lived in the Kings Canyon area. They were helping my grandpa fix fences on the ranch he worked for, and something in the tree line above them was throwing rocks at them all day and followed them. Then, my uncle, after having a few too many Coors, said he would wrestle Bigfoot if he ever saw one, and I was thinking, “I bet you wouldn’t, buddy.” Following up on my story about Alder Creek, something else pretty unsettling happened to me about ten years later. My family had moved to Oklahoma, and I joined them about a year after.

My dad took me to a really secluded fishing spot on Lake Eufaula. That was one of the things I initially liked about Oklahoma – back then, there weren’t many people in that area. I mean, the spot we went to was a 20-minute drive out of town on gravel roads, followed by another 20 minutes on a trail (not a road) that led to it. When we arrived, the sun was just above the tree line. It was an area where a creek ran into the lake, making it kind of narrow, maybe 60 yards across. But on the other side, it was just dense trees – I believe it was Corps of Engineers land, so no houses.

After we got everything set up for some night catfishing, we started hearing something tearing through the trees a good distance away. The sounds it was making were more like grunts and… well, it’s hard to explain. But we both agreed that whatever it was sounded really pissed off.

This thing was getting closer, and we could hear it slamming into trees and what sounded like tree limbs shattering. We’d been there maybe an hour before it got close enough for us to start seeing these big oak trees, maybe 25-30 feet tall, shaking violently every time it hit them. My dad decided he’d had enough and started reeling in his line, so I did too. As we were putting everything into the Bronco, the thing let out a yell/roar that was so powerful we felt it vibrate in our chests. I turned around to fold up my chair, and I saw the thing standing on top of the bank, looking in our direction. The bank was along the creek, maybe 10 feet above the water, and I tell you, this thing had to be 7-8 feet tall. It didn’t look as bulky as the first one I saw; it had more of an athletic build, if that makes sense. And its face looked more monstrous than the other one. It might have just been the way the shadows fell on it.

My dad was already in the Bronco. So, I threw the rest of the stuff in, and then I heard a sound coming through the trees across the lake. When I looked, I saw a log, maybe 15-20 feet long and about 12 inches in diameter, come flying out over the lake and crash into it. The sound was so loud it startled my dad, and he yelled, “What the hell was that?!” But I didn’t answer; I just got in and we got the hell out of there.

On the way home, I finally told him what happened when we were camping all those years ago. He said he knew something was wrong by the way I looked when I was running back to camp. Looking back on both of those times, Wes, they really sparked a curiosity in me about what else might be out there that we don’t fully understand. For years, I didn’t talk about either of those experiences because, like I mentioned with the first one, I was worried about being ridiculed.

That’s why I really appreciate your podcast. It’s created a space where people like me feel like they can share what they’ve seen without that immediate fear of being laughed at. Hearing other people’s stories, sometimes even similar to mine in ways, has been incredibly validating. It’s made me realize I’m not alone in these strange encounters.”