SO EP: 559 Alaskan Bigfoot Encounters (Not Fred)

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I'm out here, look, I'm near the one noow now and I don't need anything. I don't want to go outside. He is quite Hello, hit the boddy out here? What quin on out there? I thought of a bit of about text nine. I don't know you see announce there? Yeah, I'm walking right heady.

nasty emails and one star reviews about featuring them. Let me be clear, I believe it's vital for Fred's voice and these incredible stories, especially those involving indigenous perspectives, to be heard. That's why I've shared his content before. However, I've reached a point where I no longer care to sift through the negativity. Because of that, I'm choosing to

do the extra work of narrating these stories myself. I want to ensure these encounters are told with the care and attention they deserve, while also sparing myself the frustration of fielding criticism that misses the point entirely. These stories are as important, if not more so, than many of the others I've shared. They offer perspectives and experiences we

rarely hear, and I'm committed to bringing them to you. Ultimately, I'm just a podcaster, but I care deeply about this subject, and like many of you, I've had experiences I can't explain. I'm seeking answers, and stories like these from Alaska are a critical part of that search. Narration takes time, so I ask for your patients as I continue to bring

these encounters to life. For those who've taken the time to send angry emails or leave harsh reviews about Fred, I challenge you to ask yourself what drives you to put others down? Is it truly helping? My goal has always been to make this podcast as fresh and innovative as possible. I work tirelessly to bring you something meaningful each week, whether it's eyewitness interviews, articles of interest, or

chapters from my book, Born Wild Coda's Odyssey. And to everyone else, if you enjoy what you hear, I'd appreciate it if you could reflect that in your ratings and reviews. Now, let's talk about reviews for a moment. It's rare that someone takes the time to tell a podcaster or any business for that matter how much they enjoy the show or product. Statistically, people are far more likely to leave

a review when they're unhappy than when they're satisfied. Research shows that negative reviews outnumber positive ones by up to three to one on most platforms. Look, I get it, it's human nature to vent frustration, but appreciation often goes unspoken. As a creator who pours heart and soul into this podcast every week, it's always refreshing to hear kind words. To quote Maya Angelo, people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never

forget how you made them feel. When someone takes a moment to leave a thoughtful review or a kind message, it's a reminder of why I do this To everyone who has reached out to share what this podcast means to you. Thank you. You keep me going Right now, tens of thousands of you are listening to this podcast on Apple or Spotify, but there are only eight hundred and fifty three reviews on Apple and six hundred ten

on Spotify. That's less than one percent of the total number of you that listened to this show each month. It takes just a few seconds to leave a rating or maybe a minute to write a review, but that minute means the world to me and makes a huge difference for the show. So thank you for sticking with me. These stories are important and I'll keep bringing them to you because they matter. Now, let's dive into this week's encounters from North of the Border, haunting tales that deserve

to be heard. This story comes from Thomas and Molly, not their real names, and it's set in a small village along the Couscokwim River. We'll leave it at that for privacy. In this village, there is still a strong belief in the supernatural, including entities like the Hairy Man, the Little People, and other cryptids. These beliefs, deeply rooted in the culture, are hard to overcome. Thomas inherited a piece of property from his grandfather near the edge of

the village. For five or six years, he and Molly worked on the property, making small improvements whenever time allowed. The land was about one hundred yards from the tree line, and their progress was slow because they could only work in the after hunting season. They weren't wealthy, but they did what they could, bit by bit to prepare for building a house. One day after working on the floor of the house, they decided to head out and pick

berries behind the property. They walked through a dense cluster of trees about four hundred yards thick, before emerging on the other side, where there were plenty of blackberries, low bush, blueberries, and more. It was a beautiful spot and they were in good spirits, laughing, joking, and enjoying the day. Thomas carried his thirty ought six rifle for safety because bears and moose were still active in the area during that time of year. As they were picking berries, Molly noticed

something unusual. It's really quiet, she said. They stopped to listen, realizing just how silent it was. The usual background noise of birds, insects, and other wildlife was gone. An oppressive feeling hung over the area. When I later asked Thomas to describe it, he said it felt sinister, as if something was projecting a sense of danger directly on to him. He'd never felt anything like it before, this overwhelming sense of panic and dread. Despite the uneasy silence, they continued

picking berries. Thomas was kneeling on a tuft of tundra with the tree line at their backs and open marshland stretching out in front of them. The area they were in was a large circular clearing with rolling hills in the distance. While scanning the landscape, Thomas noticed a dark speck moving on the far hills. At first, it was hard to pinpoint, appearing in one spot and then another, the dark figure seemed to be moving closer. Alarm, Thomas

asked Molly to grab the binoculars from their backpack. As soon as he held them, the panicky feeling intensified. He scanned the hills but saw no movement. Turning his attention to the foreground, he began searching the wide open area ahead of them. The clearing was about three hundred to four hundred yards across, with small islands of black spruce and willows dotting the landscape. Finally, he spotted the dark

figure again. It was low to the ground, moving closer but still at a distance, disappearing and reappearing as it moved through the uneven tundra. That's when the fight or flight instinct kicked in. Pack up, Thomas told Molly, we're going. They quickly gathered their things and headed back through the trees toward the property. Thomas initially thought it might be a grizzly bear heading for the town dump, so he figured the best thing to do was to avoid it entirely.

When they reached the gravel pad on the property, a cleared area where a bulldozer had exposed the surface dirt, Thomas felt a brief sense of relief. However, as they prepared to leave on the four wheeler, they heard a chilling noise from the trees. It was a low, growling scream that lasted about ten seconds. Thomas described it as a mix between a pig squeal and a bear's growl. He assumed it was an injured bear and decided it was best to leave. As they rode back to the village,

Molly noticed movement in the trees to their left. She pointed it out and Thomas slowed the fore wheeler. He saw a dark figure about eighty yards away, partially obscured by the trees. Grabbing his rifle, he looked through the scope and saw the figure moving away. He assumed it was the same bear, now retreating after possibly catching their scent. A week later, Thomas returned to the property with fresh

supplies to work on the house. He had just finished part of the floor and was sitting on it sipping coffee when he noticed movement on the berm at the back of the property. Grabbing his rifle, he climbed onto the four wheeler for a better view. He saw a wide, brown figure moving through the trees. Assuming it was the same bear, he resolved to deal with it if it came back. Later that day, Thomas heard the sound of breaking trees. He grabbed his rifle and scanned the area,

but didn't see anything. Immediately, as he approached the area where the noise had come from, he felt that same oppressive sense atmosphere. He spotted movement in the trees, a broad shouldered figure with no neck, partially obscured by shadows. It duck down when it noticed his rifle. The ringing in his ears grew unbearable, and he decided to back off. Molly arrived later on a four wheeler with their oldest child. As they approached the property, she noticed the figure standing

near the trees. It threw a tree in their direction, landing it in a ditch beside the road. Molly turned the four wheeler around and sped back to the village. When Thomas returned home, Molly described what she had seen a large, hairy figure standing upright. The village elders advised Thomas not to engage with the creature or disturb the property until it moved on. He paused construction for a couple of seasons, but eventually he had to resume work

due to their growing family. With help from friends, he brought supplies to the property. One day. While unloading materials, they spotted the creature again. It stood behind them the berm swaying back and forth. When Thomas yelled, it dropped to all fours, leaped over the berm, and disappeared into the trees. Despite seeing bear tracks in the area, Thomas and his friends were certain the creature wasn't a bear. Taking the elder's advice, Thomas performed a ritual to protect

the property. He walked a large circle around the land, saying prayers for protection. He repeated the ritual several times over a few days, and the oppressive atmosphere seemed to lift. The construction continued without further incidents, and the family eventually moved into the house. However, things took another turn when they allowed a troubled relative to stay with them. This relative's behavior caused tension in the household, and Thomas believed

it may have undone the protective prayers. The sinister presence returned and the creature began approaching the house, peering through windows and lingering near the porch. Thomas repeated the prayer ritual and the activity eventually stuck. Since then, Thomas has performed the ritual every spring to insure his family's safety. He shared his story in hopes that it might help

others dealing with similar situations. He also warned about the importance of being mindful of who you invite into your home, as it could disrupt any protective measures in place. This is a story that comes from Dwayne and Roger. They live in Anchorage, and about twenty years ago, these lifelong best friends decided they wanted to try commercial salmon fishing together. They reached out to some people they knew and eventually

landed deckhand jobs in Bristol Bay. It's a great place for salmon fishing, being home to the largest salmon return in the world. At the end of their first season, the boat captain they were working for, a local Native man from Togiak, took them up the Togiak River to Togiak Lake. The area was stunning and the experience left a lasting impression on both of them. Unfortunately, the captain passed away a few years later and stay tuned for

more sasquatch ot to see We'll be right back. After these messages, still, Dwayne and Roger couldn't shake the memory of that place and decided to revisit it. They reached out to the captain's daughter, who remembered them. She agreed to let them use her late father's house as a base camp, though they'd need to pay someone to take them up the river. Dwayne and Roger made arrangements with a young local man who agreed to take them to Togiak Lake, dropped them and their gear off, and returned

to pick them up a week later. They even left one of their VHF radios with them to coordinate the pickup, knowing the signal would work once he was nearby. This was about fifteen to twenty years ago, so while GPS units existed, they were expensive and unreliable in remote areas. Instead, Dwayne and Roger relied on maps and compasses. Their plan was solid, spend a week or two in the back country, enjoy the Alaskan wilderness, and they didn't take unnecessary risks

bringing firearms because of the abundance of bears. The first few days were uneventful. They camped near the lake, venturing out to explore, but staying relatively close. On the second day, concerned about the heavy bear activity along the lake shore, they decided to move their camp further up the valley. About five hundred yards away. They found a clear, open spot surrounded by thick brush and decided it felt safer despite the nearby bear trails, it was a better option

than staying by the lake. By day four of their seven day adventure, they planned a hike deeper into the valley. The weather was clear the visibility great, though the bugs were persistent. As they hiked, they decided to climb a hillside for a better view of the game below. After finding the vantage point wasn't as helpful as they'd hoped, they crossed the valley to the opposite side, where the terrain was slightly more open. While walking along the edge

of the valley, they heard a stre distant scream. It was unlike anything they'd ever heard before. Dwayne and Roger stopped in their tracks, Confused but curious. The sound was eerie, but it was far enough away not to deter them. They chambered their ammunition and continued cautiously, determined not to let a mysterious noise ruin their trip. Roughly half a mile further, they climbed to another vantage point. They scanned the area, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise,

when they heard the scream again. This time they spotted something moving in the distance, a dark speck traveling across the valley at an incredible speed. What is that, Dwayne asked Roger, both of them watching in disbelief. The speck moved with an unnatural speed and purpose, maneuvering toward their general direction. Feeling uneasy, they decided to retreat. The hillside was rocky and loose, so they carefully made their way down to the treeline for better footing. As they moved,

the scream echoed again, this time much closer. It seemed to be within three hundred yards across the small valley, but below them in the thick brush. They froze adrenaline surging, the sounds of something large moving through the underbrush became clear. Dwayne and Roger fell into a leap frog pattern, one keeping watch while the other moved ahead. Their rifles were ready and their senses were heightened. At one point, as they were nearing a section of the trail, they recognized

they heard trees being pushed over. Not far ahead, a small black spruce fell onto their path, followed by another. These weren't massive trees, but they were being deliberately pushed down. Dwayne stopped, confused, why are we stopping? Roger whispered, there are trees being pushed over up ahead, Dwayne replied. As they listened, they heard grunting and snorting sounds, like a mix between a pig and a low growl. The noises circled them, moving clockwise, staying at a consistent distance of

about one hundred yards. The sheer size and speed of whatever was making the sounds terrified them. As the noises began to fade, Dwayne and Roger pressed on, leap frogging their way forward. They passed the fallen trees and stopped to regroup. Suddenly, the noises stopped entirely. Roger whispered, do you hear that? Dwayne didn't, lost in a state of shock, but Roger was certain the creature was moving closer. Then

it appeared roughly sixty yards ahead. It stepped into the trail, squatted down like a linebacker, and stared directly at them. The creature was massive, ten to eleven feet tall, thickly built with dark, well groomed hair. Dwayne and Roger were stunned. Keeping low behind the fallen trees, the creature rocked back and forth, making snorting noises as it studied them. Not wanting to provoke it, they slowly backed away, keeping their rifles trained on it. The atmosphere became more oppressive, the

tension unbearable. They retreated about forty feet before deciding to resume their leap frog strategy, one covering the other as they moved. Despite its intimidating size, the creature didn't act aggressively, merely watching them with keen interest. When they reached a hill, Roger led the way up while Dwayne kept an eye on the creature. As Roger climbed breaking branches, the creature stood up, walked to a dead black spruce, and snapped

it in half with a loud crack. Dwayne shouted at Roger to stop breaking branches, realizing the creature might interpret the noise as a challenge. At the top of the hill, the creature was gone. Dwayne and Roger decided to return to camp, pack up, and head for the lake. Their VHF radio was at camp and they needed to use it to call for help. As they packed, they noticed their food bag, filled with neatly packed and taped canned goods,

was missing. Following the trail back to the lake, they found pieces of the bag along the way, though all the cans were intact. Nearby, they discovered massive footprints around nineteen inches long. Dwayne, wearing size eleven and a half boots, measured the length and was struck by the sheer size of the tracks. At the lake, they saw two figures down the shore, one examining a piece of burlap from the missing bag. One figure, about six to seven feet tall,

quickly disappeared into the brush. The larger figure, still holding the burlap, eventually stood and walked off with immense speed and perfectly silent. Shaken, Dwyane and Roger used the VHF radio to contact a passing plane, which relayed their message to the village. The young man who had brought them up river returned to rescue them when they told him what they'd seen, he calmly acknowledged it. That's Jekiah, he said, referring to the hairy Man as if it were an

everyday occurrence. The casual reaction from their rescuer was the most shocking part for Dwyane. To him, it was a life changing event, but to the locals it seemed like just another day in the Alaskan wilderness. This next story comes from the Yukon River area, specifically south of Galena. Benjamin reached out some time ago, and he had a real hard time relaying his encounter. I told him not

to worry, just tell me what happened. So Benjamin isn't his real name, and we'll just say he lives somewhere on the Yukon south of Galina. Galina is the nearest hub where he goes for supplies and the like. This event occurred in twenty eighteen, and nothing significant has happened since, just some distant squeals and houlers now and then. What happened was Benjamin had ordered a new outboard. The one

he'd been using was his dad's. It ran well, but was outdated, losing power and when you're running the Yukon River. You want a good motor. The skiffs used in that region are those long, narrow types, so a reliable outboard is essential. Benjamin had been waiting months for this delivery. In morning, one of his neighbors stopped by for coffee and told him, Hey, you're out boards in. You need

to go pick it up. Benjamin was relieved. His small cabin, situated along a smaller tributary of the Yukon, was fairly self sufficient. He had a battery bank, a generator, and no connections to any utility services. His dad had started the place decades ago, and Benjamin had kept it running after his dad passed. The cabin stood about half a mile up from where the tributary narrowed, marking the start of their property. It was a great spot for pulling

up a skiff and accessing the river. That morning, as they sipped coffee, the neighbor mentioned hearing strange screams from across the river on the way in. The hairy Man was screaming, his friend said. Benjamin, familiar with the local tales, had heard his dad talk about the hairy Man. Though he believed in its existence, he'd never encountered it. Himself and didn't take it too seriously. He laughed it off,

but his friend was serious. Don't mess with the hairy man, the neighbor warned, if you see it, leave it alone. Benjamin put the warning aside and prepared for his trip. He grabbed his day bag, the paperworked for his outboard, and set off down the tributary to the Yukon. As he neared the main river, he came around a bend where the sunlight filtered through the trees. In the corner of his vision, he noticed a dark silhouette. It could have been an old stump he'd never noticed before, or

something else. He brushed it off and continued to Gallina. After retrieving his outboard and visiting friends, Benjamin headed back, Returning to the tributary, he throttled down as he approached his landing. That's when he noticed the smell. It was the distinct stench of something rotten, perhaps a dead animal nearby, assuming a bear had made a kill. He wasn't too concerned. He had his moose rifle with him and was prepared

to deal with the bear if necessary. When he reached his landing, he tied off the skiff and shut down the outboard. The foul smell was overpowering. As he looked around, his sense of unease grew. Rifle at the ready, he carefully scouted the area. There were no signs of a bear, and nothing seemed to miss. He returned to the cabin, unloaded some supplies, and then came back down to the riverbank.

That's when he saw it. In the spot where he'd stood just minutes earlier, there was now a decaying caribou carcass. The animal's head, antlers, and upper torso were intact, but one leg was missing. The body was severely decomposed. Benjamin was stunned. He had been standing right there only minutes ago, and now a half rotted caribou had appeared. Gripping his rifle, he scanned for any sign of the bear he assumed had brought it there. The tracks around the carcass were

wet and looked like double bear steps. Assuming the bear was still nearby, Benjamin jumped back into his skiff, fired it up, and roared up and down the river, trying to scare off whatever predator might be in the area. After several passes, he returned to the landing, but this time tied up further down from the carcass. With his rifle ready, he approached the spot, but the carcass was gone. The residual smell remained, and the tracks led off into

the brush. Benjamin thought the bear must have dragged the carcass away. He decided to retreat to the cabin, hoping the bear would move on. Later that evening, he came back to retrieve more supplies from his skiff. The smell returned stronger than before, and as he stepped into the skiff, his foot landed on something soft. It was the cariboo carcass now lying inside the boat. Disgusted and confused, Benjamin pushed the carcass into the river, where it floated for

a while before the current carried it away. He scrubbed the skiff to remove the stench, still trying to make sense of why the carcass kept appearing. Tired and uneasy, he returned to the cabin, locked the door, and decided to wait until morning to deal with anything else. That night, he felt watched. He heard occasional sounds outside, but dismissed them, chalking it up to the bear. Still lingering. He put on a movie for background noise. Trying to distract himself.

The next morning, he got up, prepared his coffee, and went to a small platform midway between the cabin and the river. He sat there, rifle in hand, waiting for the bear to appear. Just as dawn broke, Benjamin heard a deep grunt to his right. Shining his flashlight, he caught a glimpse of wide set eyes reflecting back at him. The shape was large and dark, but he still thought it was just a big bear. Determined to end the situation, he returned to the cabin to fetch his forty five

seventy rifle. Back on the platform, he waited, he heard splashing down river, then rustling that moved closer, but no bear emerged. Frustrated, he moved toward the trail. He spotted a dark shape ahead, partially obscured by trees. It stood up, then dropped down repeatedly. Benjamin was ready to shoot, but something didn't feel right. The shape wasn't behaving like a bear. Suddenly he remembered his friend's warning about the hairy man.

The realization hit him this wasn't a bear. Lowering his rifle, he backed away. Returning to his cabin, Benjamin locked the doors and drew the curtains. The noises continued for a while, including an eerie whistle that seemed to echo his own. He decided not to engage further. The next morning, he ventured down to the skiff and found the carcass gone. The air was quiet, the smell had faded, and the

natural sounds of birds and wildlife returned. With his gear in order, he left the airy and stayed with a friend for a few days, letting things settle. To this day, Benjamin doesn't understand what happened. His friend advised him to avoid drawing attention to himself, to leave anything strange alone. Benjamin has since moved into more accessible accommodations and no longer spends winters in the cabin. The experience remains a mystery, a tale of something that doesn't fit into the usual

patterns of the Alaskan wilderness. This last story I wanted to share with you comes from an older gentleman named Charles. He no longer lives in Alaska because his doctor is outside the state and he had to move for health reasons. We're going back fifty plus years, back to the time of oil exploration, when it was in its infancy. You know, they were planning the pipeline and doing that kind of stuff. Charles was an engineer and he came up here. He

had a home near Trapper Creek. That's where he kept his family base, and he would work up on the slope and come home, you know, that kind of thing. He'd been at it for a while. The pipeline was being constructed and at the time he was on a three week on, one week off schedule. He was in the upper echelon of his field and had to dedicate his time. He was trying to build something for his family. They lived in a small cabin an a frame style house.

His wife and their two daughters, who were five and six years old at the time, were there and stay tuned for more sasquatch Ott to see. We'll be right back after these messages. He was home for one of his weeks off and the house was simple, imagine a Monopoly house but double the height. A basic two bedroom

with a kitchen and living area downstairs. Nothing extravagant. The girl's bedroom was in a loft style space, one on each end of the A frame, while he and his wife had a room where they could barely sit up straight. The girl's room, though, was just right for them. Their window was ten feet off the ground. It was the second night of one of his trips home. When he was home, he was a dedicated dad, reading to his daughters and encouraging them to learn something very important to

him as an academic and an engineer. That first night, his daughters told him something that he dismissed at first. They said, there's a scary man who comes to our window and tries to talk to us. He asked, a scary man, what does he say? They explained, he wants us to come outside and play with his kids. Charles thought it was just their imagination. They were young, after all, but the way they described it, he didn't feel like they were making it up on the spot or being coached. Still,

he left it at that. The next night, shortly before bedtime, he was drinking coffee and looking over blueprints engineer stuff, you know. He was engrossed in his work when he heard squeals from upstairs. At first, he thought the girls were playing, but the sound came again, along with a weird noise outside. He thought it was just the wind rustling the wild raspberry bushes near the house. Time passed and more squeals came from upstairs. He decided it was

time to get the girls to bed. He went up to their room and the girls told him again that man was outside trying to talk to us. Charles asked, what does he look like? They described him in detail. His face is gray, he has black hair, big teeth, and sometimes his eyes glow red. This threw Charles off. Their description was so vivid, like they had studied this figure. He was proud of their imagination, but still didn't take

it seriously. He started reading them a story, but he noticed they got very quiet, huddling together and staring not at him, but through him. That's when he felt it like he was being watched. He turned to the window and saw movement outside. Immediately he jumped, banged his head, grabbed the girls, and rushed them downstairs. He told his wife, grabbed a firearm, and went outside with a flashlight. By the raspberry bushes, he found a spruce tree leaning against

the house like a ladder. Its branches had been broken off on one side, and it was positioned to reach the girl's window. Charles panicked. He thought, there's someone stalking my family. At the time, there were no solones and they lived miles from any neighbors. He told his wife to stay inside with the shotgun while he searched the property, but the person or thing was gone. The next day he found tracks near the house, huge barefoot prints about

eighteen inches long. His wife then mentioned that she had seen a large figure in the tree line weeks ago, but dismissed it as a shadow. Charles was skeptical when she suggested it might be bigfoot, but later he called a native friend to help him investigate. This friend found smaller tracks alongside the larger ones near a creek. The friend told him that's the hairy man. It was after your kids. Charles moved his family to Anchorage soon after, unwilling to stay in a place he could no longer

see a safe. But the last night he stayed at the cabin, he heard the tap tap tap again. This time he stayed in bed, unwilling to confront it. The fear and helplessness stayed with him for decades. When I tapped on the window during a story, it brought all of this back for Charles. It's a powerful reminder that these experiences are not something anyone should wish for. They can be life changing in ways you don't expect. They say, you don't gotta go home, but.