I want to thank Darren W. for sending this to me. He writes:
“I got this story from Adventure Kayak magazine, fall 2015 issue. Pages 60-65. I have a good friend who works for REI and is considering buying a piece of land on Vancouver Island. He recently returned from a trip to china and picked this magazine up at the airport, later giving it to me, as he knew I would enjoy the story. Its written by Sander Jain, and outdoor photojournalist who specializes in wilderness, natural history and conservation topics. The story is about him spending a week alone in a hidden cabin in Vancouver Islands Clayoquot Sound, which can only be accessed by plane or boat.
On the 5th evening he talks about hearing what sounded like boulders or large rocks being thrown or overturned, along with owl-like vocalizations coming from various locations as though replying to each other. Of course he tries to rationalize the sounds, though they persist late into the night, until he finally falls asleep. Next is exactly as it was written in the magazine…
“I was rudely awakened from my dreams into a nightmare. Fully and immediately present, my eyes opened widely, my breath came to a stop, my heart pounded wildly and I felt a torrent of adrenaline flood my body. I was petrified. My senses had never been more acute. I sensed that this is what mortal fear feels like. Loud stomping on the ground right next to the cabins boardwalk shook me to the very core. Each stomp made the cabin tremble. The massive force applied and its rhythmic nature were absolutely intimidating. More than that, they were beyond anything that I could associate with the animals you would usually expect to encounter int these forests.
The stomping was joined by the most horrifying vocalizations – disturbingly erratic and deliberate at once, tribal, not quite like human speech but similar enough to recognize certain elements. It sounded as if something was trying to speak, shout, articulate itself without quite mastering the language. It is our senses that are the primary knower of truth and not our mind. Even before my brain jumped in with a thought, my senses understood the message: Clear out! Go away! Leave! We are here! You cannot be here!
After several seconds of this turmoil, I heard them leave with emphatic steps. Two bipedal creatures erratically running off with tremendous speed and agility, each footfall causing the ground and the cabin on it to tremble. I pressed my hands against my ears as hard as I could. I wanted to seal off my senses. I hid under my sleeping bag in the darkness, every muscle in my body strained, fully covered in cold sweat. For the next few hours I remained frozen, still pressing my hands against my ears and vowing that I would leave as soon as the light of dawn released me.”
He goes on about calling on his sat phone for a float plane that morning and even leaving much of his gear behind in a haste to get out of there. The pilot seemed to know something was wrong and after being pressed for information he reluctantly told about his experiences that night, to which the pilot responded: sounds like a bigfoot encounter. That is why the First Nations call this place home of the sasquatch.”