Hi Wes, My uncle is a big fan of your podcast and he encouraged me to email you about my supernatural experience with a wendigo (possible Sasquatch).
I grew up in small town in an incredibly rural region of southern Ontario. My house was situated in a forested environment with the Niagara escarpment snaking up my front yard. It is a land of unspoiled beauty that has the capability of hiding many secrets in its depths.
My family always told me stories about the beasts that lurk in the woods, real and supernatural, but it wasn’t until I had my own experience that I became a believer in the old legends.
It was mid-autumn of 2012. At this time of year the sun slinks away early in the evening, the only light being the crescent of the moon. My sister and I have always enjoyed exploring the woods that surrounded our house, and on the night of my experience we were out galavanting in the early hours of the moonlight. My uncle (the same one who has convinced me to write this) had walked from his home a few kilometres away from ours and we had excused ourselves from the adult conversations. Our whole lives we had been warned about not venturing too far away from our home, especially in the darkness, so we mostly stayed around the perimeter of the unforsted part our house-land.
Despite the events occurring seven years ago, my recollection is still shockingly vivid when I take myself back to that night. The air was slightly cool, but warm enough that I only needed a raincoat (sometimes it’s cold enough to snow at this time of year). It was a good evening all together, my sister and I were getting along as we laughed and played in our yard.
We were completely unbothered and unaware of what was about to happen. In what I then thought was a brilliant idea I encouraged my sister to come with me and enter the thin strip of woods (about 25 feet apart) that separated our property and an unused driveway on the adjoining land. It was covered in young trees and surprisingly sturdy grasses, that in the fall got so dry and brittle that they could hold you up when falling on them.
We spent the next few minutes matting the grasses down enough so we could walk into the centre of the woods. Standing there we were about 5 feet from our property. I started to feel strange, I decided that it was about time to get back to the house as my stomach was turning. Taking one last opportunity before going home I shoved my sister hard intending for her to be kept from falling by the grass. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case and she fell hard on her back, shocked by the tumble. It took her a few moments before she reacted, as she was in a state dumbfounded shock. This had never happened before. I stood there worried that she would take off back home and tell my mom.
I got on my hands and knees eye-level with her, before she could even bat and eyelash or say a word I was there trying to convince her that she was okay and that there was no reason to say anything to mom. If she did we would never be allowed outside together. Due to my age and stubbornness, I was reluctant to apologize. I did help her up and brush off the dirt on her backside. We stood there for a few moments, in the darkness I could see her big blue eyes, she was chattering,endlessly as only she can. I debated with myself, what I should do. If we go home like I had wanted to moments before, she would get me in a trouble, but if we stayed out against my better judgment, I knew something bad could happen. I was her older sibling, I needed to keep her safe.
Before I could reach my final judgment, the sense of unwaryness exploded,tingles traveled from my neck down my spine. Both of us stilled, the flow of words from her mouth was abruptly silenced as I smacked my hand over it. I didn’t expect that out of her quietness would grow a fear in me so deep, I rarely visited the forest again.
It started out quieter, the slosh of heavy footsteps on a the unpaved laneway. The gravelled stones tinkling across each other as if they had been slightly kicked. This sound quickly grew louder. It almost sounded as if the small rocks were being cracked under each footstep. My sister and I stood there. Neither of us cowered, we were frozen in fear.
The sound of the footsteps was soon deadened by that of heavy breathing, grunting. Disgustingly inhuman. We were held in an unmoving trance as the beast came into view. A mass of tangled, slightly curly fur. A body so big it would have dwarfed my burly grandpa (who was 6’4). It’s body was illuminated by the dim light our house cast upon the yard. I was the first to break, I yelped, terrified. Despite its size the thing was surprising quick, its large head wiped to the side. Although I couldn’t make out it’s eyes, my sister and I could both feel the its gaze rapt on our unmoving forms.
It was at this moment I found control over my limbs. Selfishly, I pushed my sister behind me, closer to the creature. And I ran, screaming for my mother, someone to come and save us. I barrelled away from my sister to the front stairs. She wasn’t far behind me. The shock from me pushing her must of helped her move. As we mounted the stairs our hands fumbled at the front door handle as we trembled in fear. Finally, we got inside still on edge.
Our family was obviously shocked by the state we were in. They weren’t exactly receptive when we tried to explain what we had seen. They tried to tell us it could have been a bear (far too short, our little black bears could never stand that tall) or maybe it was a person (still too small, not burly enough and wouldn’t most people say something instead of scaring two people?) My sister and I remained steadfast, we knew what we saw. We went so far as to beg our uncle not to walk home that night, we didn’t want what was out there to get him.
Over time the shock of what we saw has worn off, but both myself and my sister still maintain unquestionably that, that was the most terrifying moment of our lives. Even after we experienced a break and enter while we were alone together. I’ve racked my brain for what it could have been. At first I was convinced it was a Sasquatch, but years later I’m now not too sure. At this point in my life I’m nearly convinced it was a wendigo. Purely on the fact that it still gives me the shakes when thinking about, as I’ve always been told they inspire fear in their victims.
I have a feeling I will always remain somehow marked by this experience. Even though it was years ago, it is often a point of conversation with my family. At first I’m certain they thought we were trying to joke with them, but seven years later they now realize our moments with the beast were very much real. It made believers out of the two of us and has opened our eyes to other strange happenings we have witnessed.”