Archive 162 UFOs and Bigfoot

May the ninth, twenty twenty two. At one pm that day, I took my dogs for a walk. I opted to walk down the end of the road where a retired federal government employee lives. That he values his privacy is evident in the no trespassing signs posted and the fact that his property is gated. I usually stopped at the gate and turned around when I choose to walk the dogs in that direction. I had walked past another home on the opposite side of the road when I saw

what I thought was my neighbor. Walked from the corner of his yard and on to the driveway at the same time, both of my dogs began to react strangely. They dropped their tails and began to whine and whimper as they backed away. I stared in amazement as what I had first taken for a human being crossing the driveway in two strides. Realization began to set in. This was not my neighbor. This was not a human being.

This was something seven and a half to eight feet tall, and it was covered in long, matted, dark brown and black hair, and it was only fifteen feet away from me. It never looked at me or in my direction. There was no accurate smell that so many have talked about, nor did it make any sounds. It simply crossed the driveway, which was about two feet wider than a car, and then it went up a slight embankment and disappeared into

the woods. At this point I still didn't realize, or perhaps I hadn't accepted the reality that I had seen a bigfoot. I was surprised and rattled and in denial, but I couldn't tell you what I was thinking at that moment, and I wish I could. I was still holding on to the thought that it was my neighbor, as I began walking back toward my house. When I reached the spot where it had stepped into the woods, I realized there was no earthly reason why anyone would

venture into that heavy thicket. It would be dangerous to do so, A healthy man would struggle with it, and someone like my neighbor, who smokes heavily and enjoys his drinks, would never be able to make it through there. Well, this is when I began to get nervous. The dogs had stopped whimpering and whining, but they were in as much of a hurry to get home as I was. I kept checking back over my shoulder, but I didn't

see the creature, nor did I hear anything. And when I realized I didn't hear anything, it occurred to me that even the birds had gone silent. There were no normal woodland noises at all. A few days later, I was able to have a conversation with the man who owns the property, and I began by saying, so, I saw something while I was on a walk the other day. There was a nervous pause while I collected my thoughts. You're probably going to think I lost my mind. I

began again, did you see bigfoot, he cut in. His question caught me off guard, and I wasn't expecting that answer, But I can't say I wasn't hoping for it either, I believe, so I managed to get out, Have you seen bigfoot? No? He answered again, not what I was hoping for, but not entirely unexpected. There isn't much to tell beyond that it isn't the most exciting story. It certainly isn't how I imagine things would play out if I ever saw a bigfoot. But it is what it is,

and I know what I saw. So I started hunting and fishing when I was ten years old with an uncle here in the UK, and I've hunted and fished worldwide ever since. Being in the outdoors is me at my happiest, even if I don't get anything. I enjoy stalking deer, working the land, and being selective as to what I harvest. Everything I harvest is for the pot, except for the foxes and the rats. As a hunter, I believe in selective and ethical hunting, and when I do take a life, I always give the best I

can for a quick, clean kill. I live in England, but most of my hunting was in Scotland on syndicate land least from a tree plantation company. The plantation consisted of mature tree with fire breaks, clear fell and new plantation with gravel tracks. We were allowed to have a static caravan on site. Americans call these camping trailers. The least area was fifteen hundred acres, but next to this was a further twelve hundred acres of woodland and farmland that was run by a local and they shot for

driven pheasant. The agreement with the gamekeeper was if we helped keep the foxes down on the chute by lamping at night, we would get an invite on the chute for the end of the season. On keepers Day one weekend in early October two thousand and four, I arranged for myself and a friend to go deer stalking. I was all packed up and ready to go when my friend called me and said he couldn't come due to a family emergency, so it was just me and the dog,

which was fine. I set off later than I was hoping for and on the way up to Scotland, I got held up even further with road works. The five hour drive turned into six hours, and when I got to the trailer in the woodland. It was getting on for about nine thirty PM and I was losing light. There was not enough light left to start an evening stalk, so I made a meal and I thought I would drive the plantation next door after midnight and see if

I could nail some foxes whilst lamping. For all you rednecks out there, lamping is what we call shining or spotlight, but he's doing it legally for foxes and predators, which is cool. We can't even do that. We can't even shine a light in a field at night, and the game war will be on us like white on rice. But anyway, I digress. It's shining for all the Rednecks. Just after midnight, I put the dog in the back of the land rover, set the spotting lamp up, and

headed off with my two forty three. I arrived at the gate of the plantation and unlocked the gate and I drove in. It was strange because I've remember a funny feeling when I opened the gate. I wasn't sure what it was, but something didn't feel right. I drove along the mature woodland and I looked down a firebreak and noticed a bright light in the sky. It was very bright. I thought it was a satellite off in the sky. This was looking out the right side of

my car at my three o'clock. I carried on past the mature trees and I turned right down a track that opened on some clear fell I expected to see the light in front of me, but it was still at ninety degrees to my right, which was strange. I carried down the track for about three to four hundred yards and I stopped. I looked at the light and it was still there, just hanging in the sky. I put my zeice binoculars on it, and it was hard to look at due to the brightness. The thing was

a bright silver. It looked like a cylinder on its end, like you would put a coke can on a table. I put the rangefinder on it, and it was six hundred and fifty yards from me. It must have been twenty five feet long and maybe ten feet in diameter, and hanging about two hundred feet off the ground. I could see the trees illuminated by its brightness below. I carried on down the track and I turned right again.

I was now driving behind it. I stopped and put the rangefinder on it again, and it was now at five hundred yards. This thing just hung there. I don't know what it was, but it made no noise and it didn't seem to move. I was mesmerized by it. Fear took over, and I thought it best to move along. I floored it down the track. The road curved at the end and joined the original track that I came in on. I looked out the window and it was

still hanging there. I had driven all the way around it, and it was always on the right side of the vehicle. I drove back to my syndicate area and I went to bed in the caravan. In the morning, I drove to the next door plantation again about NW and I looked at the area again and saw no sign of it. I drove the same route and stopped in the same places,

and I never saw anything strange. A few months later I told a friend about it, and after he finished laughing at me and saying it was the moon or a planet, he asked me why I didn't go closer to it, or why I didn't take a shot at it with my rifle. At the time, that never occurred to me to even think of doing that. And in hindsight, I wouldn't have done so anyway. It's kind of drummed into me always to know what I'm shooting at and never to aim or discharge a rifle above a backstop.

To this day, I don't know what it was. Primeval fear kept me from getting closer and told me to leave, and I think a deep, unknown sixth sense told me something wasn't right when I arrived. I don't know if it was my eyes playing tricks, but I did get hits with the rangefinder, so this thing must have been solid and reflective. It seemed to emit a light, but it didn't have any lights. I've never seen anything like

it again, nor do I really want to. It would be interesting if any of your followers have encountered anything that fits this description. Paul's got another thing he wanted to share, and I thought this was really good, just as good as his story. And here's what he writes. I wanted to give you one more short story that isn't a Bigfoot story, and it's not really a UFO story. This is about people who tell about what they have seen.

I've noticed the amount of decent people who are ridiculed for telling the truth about what they saw, regardless of whether it can be explained or not. A lot of these people are well respected professional people who have their lives really affected by simply telling the truth. And that's what this story is about. Many years ago, I used to shoot wildfile and game with a really nice guy. He had a great sense of humor and the banter that he gave and was able to take was legendary.

He worked for a local farmer and also was a part time truck driver, and he worked for various hall firms in the southeast of the United Kingdom. He was ex army and served with his original regiment in Germany and Northern Ireland. Then needed more of a challenge and went for the parachute Regiment. You have to be a tough bastard to get in that also, and you also have to be a bit mad. This was in the

early nineteen eighties. In nineteen eighty two, he found himself on the way to the South Atlantic on a troop ship with his regiment in May of nineteen eighty two and found himself in full combat at Goose Green during the Falklands War. After he left the army, he returned back to rural life, settled down and married, and they had a child. He was well known in the community and very well liked, and was a kind of guy who would help anyone out. Over a couple of beers.

One evening he told me this story and how it affected his life, his work, and his marriage. In the summertime in the late nineteen eighties, he was trucking freshly harvested peas with another guy in another truck. It was early morning and they were driving through a rural area in Suffolk and heading for a pea processing factory. As they drove down the quiet country roads, the sun started to rise and in the pink and blue sky they saw two black triangles. They seemed to just hang silhouetted

in the sky. He drew them and they were Isaceles triangles. He said, you could even see the heat haze coming off of them. He got on his sebee to the other driver and said, do you see them? What the hell are they? The other driver said, screw this, and they both floored the trucks and didn't stop until they reached the truck stop twenty miles away. He said they both felt shook up and told other truckers what they had seen. This was a big mistake. At no point

did they ever say UFO or spaceship or aliens. They just described what they had seen in the sky that morning, and they received a fair amount of ridicule. And it didn't stop there. It spread like wildfire and it never ended. They both were accused of drinking on the job and being mentally unbalanced. They lost a work through the ordeal. They just weren't hired by any of the haulage companies. Every time he went into town, someone would draw an alien face on his car in the dust, or whistle

the close encounters theme. It was the same in the local pub. You would think that a tough guy like him could take it, and that it could only go on for so long. But it stopped being banter or a joke, and it simply turned into harassment. One day he had had enough and he punched one of his hecklers. Unfortunately, that got him his shotgun certificate revoked over it. I can't stress how constant it was. The other driver moved

away because of the bullying. Also in nineteen ninety one, when the First Gulf War started, it suddenly became clear to him what he had actually seen on television the United States Air Force rolled out the F one seventeen stealth Fighter. What he and the other driver had seen was these aircraft coming into land at an air base in Suffolk. Even when he explained to people that's what he had seen, it never mattered and the harassment never stopped.

I last saw him in the mid nineteen nineties when he was running aid out for the United Nations to the Balklands War. I heard he met a Bosnian woman who was from Germany and moved out there after the war. He was a good friend and a great and really didn't deserve what he got for simply telling the truth. My name is Kelly and I'm from England and I'm a regular listener to your show. I have a true story,

but I'm not sure if it will interest you. It isn't about Bigfoot nor dog Man, to be honest, it does not even involve a cryptid, and I'm not sure you could class it as paranormal or supernatural, but I will let you decide on that yourself. First, let me tell you a little about myself. I am a forty seven year old woman and I live in Lincoln with my husband. The story did not happen in Lincoln, but in Manchester, where I used to live before I'm married.

I lived on a rather large estate back in two thousand and two when this strange incident occurred, and I had lived in that area since nineteen seventy two. It was the beginning of July and we had just had the hottest day of the year. It had been around ninety four, and the night was so humid it was still in the eighties. I knew I would not be able to sleep, although I was doing for work at nine am the next morning, and I stayed up watching

television until two AM. When I retired to bed, it was boiling hot in the room, and I opened the window as wide as I could to let some air inside, but there wasn't any. Sadly, we don't have air conditioners here, and the air outside was as warm as that within the room. I dressed lightly and I chose to sleep on top of the covers, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't sleep, and I did not even feel tired. But I knew without any sleep, I would pay for it.

The next day at work, I clock watched instead as I tossed and turned, and then two am changed into three AM, and then four am. It was just far too warm to sleep, so I took a book from my bookshelf and I began to read, hoping that I would eventually drift off to sleep. There was not a sound from anywhere coming through the window as I read, and then about four thirty am I heard the clopping sound, clip clop, clip clop. My first thought was who was

riding a horse at this time of the morning. The clip clopping noise continued, so I put my book down and I leaned out to look through my window. It was daylight and from my home I could see either end of the street that I lived on and the main road that it attached to. The clip clop sound grew louder, and then in the distance on the main

road came a figure. I could not see them clearly, only the top of their head over the distant hedges, but it was a woman, I was sure of it, and she was wearing heels, and that is what was

making the clip clop noise. There was no traffic at the time in the morning, and it was a Tuesday, so I wondered why someone was out so early, I popped my head back into the room so she would not see me spying on her, and as she turned the corner, I was amazed to see that she was wearing a winter jacket with a hood pulled up in all that heat. She was also wearing trousers in what looked like old fashioned hobnailed boots, which still made the

loud clip clop sound. The jacket had the old style wooden toggles on the front to tie it up, and I stood back in the shadows watching her, thinking that she must be slightly mad to be dressed for winter after the hottest day of the year. I observed her and she drew level with my house, clip clopping along. She was side on to me, with her head down, looking at the ground, so all I could see was her hood, and then she suddenly stopped abruptly, she turned

and looked directly up at me. This caused me to take a sharp intake of breath and step backwards. How did she know that I was there? I thought? I remember her face well from what I could see of it under her hood. It was pale like alabaster, and she had dark eyes and a thin mouth that remained closed. Everything about her was off kilter to me, and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. I thought, what am I doing stepping away from the window.

It was still wide open, and I thought, if anyone is weird here, it's her. So I stepped back to the window and she was gone. All this occurred in seconds, and seeing as I had heard her approaching for the last five minutes with her loud footwear, if she had run off or walked, I would have heard it. I knew all my neighbors well and she wasn't one of them, so she had not skipped into the houses. Plus, they all had iron gates that made a loud noise as

you open them. I looked out of the window the entire length of the street, left and right, but she was gone. I thought I had spooked her and she ran into the garden to hide. I would have heard that clip clop of heels though on the pavement. I stood at the window until five thirty am in case she was hiding somewhere, but I never saw her again.

As I stood, observing and slightly baffled at the window, a cat came from the left of the street, walking along and another from the right, and they met and sat side by side where the woman had stood. When she turned to look up at me, it was so weird. Cats usually fight, and these two were not known to me as any of the neighborhood cats either. I stood watching the road with the window shut, even in the heat.

I had images of her flying through my window to get me, so I slammed it shut and watched through the glass. The whole episode creeped me out. I could not sleep at all that night, and I went to work a few hours later. I told a few family members and they thought it strange, but they had no ideas. I wondered if the lady had maybe a skin problem, hence why she was covered over, But why would you wear the heaviest clothes in that heat. Plus it still

did not answer where she suddenly disappeared to silently. I suppose that will remain a mystery. I moved out in twenty twelve, and the only time I ever saw and heard anything was back in two thousand and two. But it has stuck in my mind as odd all these years later. And if she was real or not, your guess is as good as mine. I don't even know if this story is scary or just perplexing, and I

was most definitely not dreaming. I know as I never slept that night, and on hot evenings afterwards, I'll always keep the window closed and endured the heat. As I finished typing this, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up again, and I turned around to check that she wasn't standing there. How foolish is that? I was raised in the desert desert area of Utah, in the small town of Caneville, population fifteen On a good

day when everyone was home. This town was so remote it was thirty miles to the west to the nearest town in twenty miles to the east of Hanksville, which is just north of Hyte Marina on Lake Powell. Only a handful of cars passed through our town on Highway twenty four on a busy day. My father was a desert tour guide and he knew the Utah Desert like the back of his hand. So I was raised rough camping in the desert with my parents and their friends

for several years. In the spring, Dad would lead a group called the Wonder Bunch on a three day camp trip into the desert and canyons of Utah. They called themselves the Wonder Bunch because they always wondered where they were going, and wondered who would be going, and wondered when they would make it back. I love going on the Wonder Bunch camp trips, which usually had seventy five to one hundred people in the group. Every night, after eating a great meal, several men would get out their

musical instruments and play songs around the campfire. My dad played guitar, one man played a banjo, and another played a harmonica, etc. While they played, some of the others would clear an area of brush and rock so we could dance in the sand. Most of the time square dancing or doing the old fashioned waltz or two step, and if people didn't want to dance, they just sat listening to the music or singing along if they wanted.

It was usually long after the moon had come up and the fire had died down that we would finally retire to our beds beneath the stars. In May of nineteen sixty eight, when I was fifteen, I talked my dad into letting me take five of my girlfriends on a weekend camp trip. A girl's only trip. Since we were teenagers, their mothers were concerned that some of the local boys might find us and cause trouble. So Dad promised that he would take us where no one would

be able to find us. He wouldn't even tell me where he was going to ensure no boys could find us. On Friday, after school, we loaded all of our camping gear and six girls into Dad's nineteen sixty six international travel all and we headed out to the desert for a girl's weekend of giggling and fun. Dad loved to entertain and pull practical jokes, so at the right time on our way into the desert, he stopped the vehicle, saying,

I'm sorry, girls, but I have to wi. Of course, being in the desert, there wasn't any bush or large boulder in sight. While Dad stepped out of the travel all the girls turned their heads and covered their eyes, and then we heard Dad yell we long and loud, before getting back into the driver's seat and continuing on our way. Of course, of course, the girls had a big laugh over that joe. After an hour, we stopped at the head of the canevill Wash, about five to

seven miles from my home. We hurriedly unloaded our gear and Dad told us that he would be back to pick us up on Sunday afternoon before he waved and he drove away. There was a full moon that weekend, and Friday night went really well. We set up camp and spread our bedrolls in a line in the bottom of the wash where it was sandy and soft, and then roasted hot dogs around a small campfire. Since it had been a fairly long day, we went to bed as soon as he got dark, and all went well

that night. On Saturday morning, after eating breakfasts of burned bacon and pancakes and eggs, we straightened up camp and decided to do a little exploring of the area. I love to gather rocks, as my dad had taught me the difference between petrified wood, dinosaur bone, jasper, quartz, flint, and other types of rocks. The wash had several small canyons and gullies that ran off of it, which were perfect for rock hounting, so we hiked some of them

until it started to gently rain. We hurried back to camp stowed our gear on a ledge beneath an overhanging cliffs so it wouldn't get wet. The storm was just a summer cloud burst that only lasted a few minutes, so when it was done and the sun came out again, we decided it was time to sun tan. We spread

our bedrolls back out. Since we were up on a small canyon in the middle of the desert with no one around us for miles, we stripped down to our brawls and panties and then laid face down on our sleeping bags to get a good tan on our backs. And then someone suggested we didn't want to get the brawl line on our back, so we unhooked the back of our brawls and just laid there in the sun.

All of a sudden, one of the girls noticed the jet flying over, so we all squealed and jumped up and ran to the overhanging cliff, leaving six white bros lying in a row on our bed rolls. After a moment of panic, we realized that jet flying that high, probably at thirty thousand feet, couldn't see us anyway. But our sun tanning mood was over, so we got dressed again and we did a little more exploring before it

was time to cook supper. I remember at the very head of the wash was a natural seep with just enough water for us to wash our hands and do the supper clean up. Before long, the sun had set and our day of fun was over, so we put out the fire and we crawled into our beds that were still at the bottom of the wash, and we

quickly fell asleep. Sometime in the night, we were awakened by a small sprinkling of rain drops, and I told the girls we needed to move our beds out of the wash and up under the overhanging cliffs so we wouldn't get caught in a flash flood if it rained any harder. The desert canyons of Utah are notorious for flash floods. If people aren't cautious and aware of the weather and their surroundings, they could end up in a life threatening situation. Throughout the years, Dad had rescued several

people who had been caught or stranded by flash floods. Anyway, the moon was full that week end, so we had no trouble gathering up our beds and quickly getting underneath the overhang out of the rain that was coming down a little harder now. And as soon as we were all under the overhang. Before we even got a chance to spread out our beds, a light came down from the sky and began to search the area in the

wash where we had been sleeping only moments before. The beam of the search light was fifteen to twenty feet in diameter and it was coming straight down from the sky. However, there was no engine, only the hushed breathing of six terrified girls. One of the girls tried to stick her head out from underneath the overhang to see where the light was coming from, but three of the other girls held her back for fear that she would give away

our hiding place. We realized the light was not normal, and we since something sinister was happening, and we were frightened. Like I mentioned, there was no motor noise of any type of noise, just the silence of the desert, and we watched in fear, and the light searched our camp area, and it swept the bed of the wash where we had previously been sleeping, and up the side of the hills and cliffs that line the wash. After ten minutes,

the searchbeam of light disappeared. We saw a bright light shoot to the north and do a ninety degree turn and shoot to the east and over the horizon. It was gone in a matter of seconds. There was a temporary military base to the east of us, maybe thirty miles between Hanksville and Green River, Utah, and I have wondered if it had anything to do with this incident. It took a while for us to settle down and go back to bed and sleep the rest of the night.

I might also mention that there was a small flood that went through our camp and right down the wash where we had been sleeping earlier. Thankfully, no one was hurt. None of our camping gear was washed away. The next day was Sunday, and it was just afternoon when Dad came to pick us up. We excitedly told him what had happened and how the light had come down from the sky and had been searching for us. The blood drained from his face and he just said, hurry and

pack your stuff. We need to get going. So we loaded everything in his trusty travel all and he drove us back to town. It wasn't until many years later, when I was an adult, that I learned about the many strange objects he had seen in the skies of southeastern Utah. As I remembered this night in the desert, I'm very

thankful that we were protected and not abducted. In my heart, I feel the Lord saved us by sending that small shower to wake us up and get us to move underneath the overhang where we couldn't be seen from above. I can only imagine how horrific Dad's life would have been had us girls gone missing, especially since he was the only one who knew where we were and the last one to see us on that Friday night when

he dropped us off to start our camping adventure. Throughout my teenage years, I saw other strange lights in the sky, but they were not as frightful as this one. This craft was definitely looking for us. It's a puzzle to me how it knew where we were. I know Daddy didn't tell them, and as Dad promised, the boys didn't find our camp, but the UFO certainly did. And she signs off Utah Desert Girl