Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I have been listening to your podcast for several years, and I finally decided to write and share a strange encounter I had many years ago, I am 69 years old. This experience took place around 1975, when I was about 18 or 19 years old. I grew up in Stanislaus County in the small town of Ceres, California.

Sometime in the spring of that year, I drove to Riverbank to visit my Aunt Myrna. Riverbank is about ten miles north and slightly east of Modesto. Myrna was a true outdoorswoman. She loved fishing and camping, owned horses, and often packed into remote campsites. I was also an avid hunter and spent as much time outdoors as I could.

One day we decided to go catfishing that evening on the Stanislaus River near Knights Ferry, close to the Stanislaus National Forest. We drove out on an old two-lane paved road and never saw another vehicle. We parked along the roadside and carried our gear down a steep embankment, about fifteen feet, to a flat area beside the river.

Across the river was a steep hill covered with quaking aspens or white alders. Before dark we set up our small camp and settled in for what we expected would be a long night of fishing.

It was a mild, peaceful evening. There were no people, no passing cars, and no man-made sounds. The only noises were the constant chorus of insects, frogs, and night birds. We were lying on a blanket with a lit lantern between us.

At about 1:30 in the morning, everything changed.

Every sound stopped instantly everything except the river. It was as though someone had flipped a switch. The silence was so sudden and unnatural that both Myrna and I sat up at the same time and looked around. Neither of us said a word. We simply listened. The silence was eerie, unlike anything I had ever experienced before or since.

Then we heard something on the far side of the river.

Whatever it was seemed to be climbing the back side of the hill toward the crest directly opposite us. It wasn’t difficult to hear because it sounded as though someone had blindfolded an elephant and sent it walking uphill through the aspens. It was incredibly loud.

The strangest part was that it also sounded like the creature was grabbing young trees as it walked and snapping them off. Imagine someone casually walking through a field of cattails, breaking them as they pass. Only these weren’t cattails they sounded like trees.

I don’t remember what phase the moon was in, but it was bright enough that the hillside was clearly visible beneath a cloudless sky. Years later, whenever I remembered that scene, it reminded me of something from a Steven Spielberg or Tim Burton movie. The moonlight made everything appear almost black and white.

Whatever was climbing that hill had to be extremely large and incredibly powerful. When I say it was snapping trees, I’m talking about trunks four to five inches in diameter. The sound was like someone snapping two or three 2×4 boards all at once.

I focused on the crest of the hill, expecting whatever it was to appear in the open.

It reached the top and began coming down our side of the hill.

The aspens were so thick that I never actually saw the creature itself, but I could clearly see the tops of the trees swaying as something very large moved through them. As it descended, I became convinced it was walking on two legs, not four.

I’ve spent a great deal of time outdoors and have seen elephants, rhinos, moose, elk, and many other large animals move through the wild. Despite their size, they move with remarkable stealth. I have never seen or heard of any animal moving the way this thing did.

When it had come about one-third of the way down the hill, it suddenly stopped.

There was no movement. No sound.

At that moment I knew whatever it was had seen us.

I had frozen long before then not from fear, but from complete curiosity. I was so focused on trying to see the creature that I couldn’t even tell you what Myrna was doing.

Several minutes passed.

Then I heard it begin moving again, this time much more slowly and quietly as it approached the riverbank directly across from us. If I remember correctly, the river was about sixty feet wide and moving slowly. Every so often I could hear leaves or twigs crunch beneath its feet.

Eventually it reached the tree line about fifteen feet from the water and stopped.

It never stepped into the open.

It was obvious to me that it was remaining concealed while watching us.

Throughout this entire time, nature remained completely silent. No frogs, no insects, no birds nothing but the sound of the river.

The creature stayed there, motionless, for about five minutes.

Then it made one long, high-pitched whistle.

About thirty seconds later it turned and casually walked away at an angle to our left, back up the hill. The difference was remarkable. Earlier it had crashed through the trees, breaking saplings as it climbed. Now it moved like a man taking a leisurely stroll through the woods calm, deliberate, not hurrying, not crashing into anything, not breaking branches. Before long it disappeared over the hill.

As I sat there trying to make sense of what had happened, my mind went through every possibility. I already knew about Sasquatch. I had read a book from my high school library about the Abominable Snowman and had seen the Patterson-Gimlin film. I kept asking myself what kind of creature could be that massive, that powerful, walk upright on two legs, snap trees with ease, and whistle.

The following day I asked Myrna if she thought we might have encountered a Sasquatch.

She said she didn’t know, but mentioned that the local newspapers had recently published several articles about Sasquatch sightings in that area over the previous month.

I’ve tried to recall this incident as accurately as possible despite the passing of more than fifty years. I never had another experience that I believed involved a Sasquatch.

Later in life I served in the U.S. Army as a Green Beret on Combat Dive Teams with the 5th and 1st Special Forces Groups. My military career only reinforced my respect for observation, situational awareness, and remaining calm under pressure, which is one reason this experience has stayed with me all these years. I still cannot explain what we heard that night.”