Archive 218 Sasquatch Encounters

I go through to get these stories out. Plus, it's a beautiful day and I need to be outside working in my yard so my wife won't be mad at me. But I'm in here doing this because I really want to get a podcast out this afternoon. Somebody pat me on the back and say, it'll be okay, Cam, It'll be okay. Just read the story. The writer on this story again wants to be anonymous, and here's what he writes.

This happened in late julye just after they cut the hay and the round bells had been taken, and there was a short grass. It's an excellent opportunity to shoot coyotes. My dog was lying a few yards away from me, in a mowed down path to the creek. She was lying in my overgrown food plot. The Johnson grass had since taken over and it was a good six feet tall. While she slept, I was watching the hayfield from my side beside. Now, I had my ten twenty two with

me with a full magazine. I've had that twenty two since I was fourteen. Most folks don't think of twenty two is a good weapon for taking coyotes, but it shot straight and I've taken codies with it in the past. It was late in the evening and the sun had gone down, but I could still see My dog woke up and started turning circles and barking and looking straight up into the trees. Her head was twisted and turning as she looked up, and then I heard growls and

foot stomping and the trees moving ten feet up. I stood up to yell at my dog to quit, and hit the horn in the process, which added to the confusion. Knock it off, I yelled at her, and in response, she took off for the house. Well. I yelled at her again as she passed me to cross the creek. And I think if dogs could talk. I'm guessing by the look on her face, she would have said, screw you, buddy, I'm out of here. So I sat back down and

I tried to regain my composure. I was there for a long time, watching the trees and trying to see what she saw, and whatever it was never made another sound or appearance. It was getting even darker out, so I started up my side by side and headed across the creek. Patience is a virtue. I yelled back over my shoulder to the thing in the trees, and then I gave my side by side all the gas it would take, and I headed for home. My bird dog was sitting on the porch, shivering and waiting for me

when I got there. And for the next couple of weeks, me and the dog would go back down to the other side of the creek to watch the hayfield for coyotes. She wouldn't lie down at the other end of the trail anymore. Instead, she'd lie behind me at the crossing point, where she'd slept until the sun started getting low. Every time we had an encounter, she would wake up, raise her head and sniff the air, and run like hell for the house. After she would leave and it was dark,

branches would start breaking on the creek behind me. I took my brother in law down there once to experience it, and we heard what sounded like rocks clacking, her teeth clashing together, and it sounded like it was forty or fifty yards away. The last time it happened, I put my dog in the side by side with me and I headed down there, and I parked where I always did,

away from the creek facing the hayfield. I wouldn't let her get out, and as it got dark, she raised her nose and then tried to bust out of the side by side, and I grabbed a patch of hair and held on to her for as long as I could. You're not leaving me alone out here again, I said, as I struggled to keep her in place. She kept fighting me until I had to let go, and I was afraid if I didn't, she'd get out anyway, and I'd be left with just a patch of hair and

skin in my hands. She was fighting that hard, and she ran like the devil across the creek and headed straight back to the house. I stayed down there as long as I could. Branches were breaking up and down the creek behind me, and the rock clashing didn't happen this time, but I was done anyway. I got the buggy across the creek and I raced home. My dog was waiting on the porch for me, as usual, shivering. Another two weeks of this, and the grass was getting

tall again and the encounters stopped. I got on the internet and I started listening to stories. Things in the past started to make sense to me, and I remembered years ago walking down there, and movement caught my own the creek bank. I thought I saw a small monkey climbing the bank with its arms and legs, heading for the Johnson grass to find cover, and I went across to where it came out, but I didn't find anything, so I wrote it off as my eyes playing tricks

on me. That's just one of the many strange occurrences I've had along that creek. I don't think they're mean or want to hurt me. They've had too many opportunities to do me in if they wanted to. Okay, that was pretty good. That was a good story. I don't again. The last podcast I did had two stories in it about people who had feelings they sensed something around them, And I guess that's a few of people who commented in the comment section where you know those feelings are valid.

When you feel those feelings, you need to get out of there. Maybe so, maybe not. I don't really trust my feelings. That's just me. I kind of trust what I can see and what I don't see. But back to this story, I mean, this man never saw anything when he was younger. He did see a monkey, something that looked like a monkey going over the bank. But you know what could that have been? Could it have

been a dog. I'm just playing Devil's advocate here because I think this makes him real nervous when he goes out. And if you ever hear me talk about these things, I really want to encourage people not to be afraid to go in the woods. There's really nothing to be afraid of. And the reason I say that is of all the hundreds of bigfoot encounters that I've gotten, nobody ever gets hurt. Nobody gets hurt. We had one story where a guy rode in and he claims a bigfoot

killed his grandfather. I think it's like the fifth or sixth video I ever did. But other than that nobody. They don't. Not only do they not get killed or taken, they don't get hurt. So and I know there's people out there who will go well, if you get taken, there's no one there to write the story. And you've got a point there. But I just don't think people

should be afraid to go in the woods. I know that's going to make a lot of people mad, but it's my position and I respect your position if you think they shouldn't, and I want you to respect mine when I think they should go in the woods, because it's a wonderful place to be to go out in the wilderness, especially alone, and you don't have to go into these wildernesses that are fifty miles away from everything.

Just walk out in the woods, find some place of state park or something, walk around trails, walk in the woods. It really is a good experience. So uh huh, okay, Well that's my pits for going in the woods. But be careful and be alert when you're there. There's snakes and depending on where you are, there are predators in the North American woods, not where I live, but they

are there. Enjoy the woods. That's all I'm saying. So I'm in my sixties and I'm battling with the MS, and I've decided to share my experiences before it's too late. Perhaps my encounters will benefit someone, and if so, then my time writing this has not been wasted. I was raised on a farm and cattle operation in Utah in the sixties and seventies. Our land was adjacent to foothills that led up into a range of the Rocky Mountains, where I spent every possible hour on horseback or hiking

or backpacking. I log several hundred nights camping out during my teens, in twenties and thirties, and even into my forties. It came with the territory of my outdoor life. Being out of doors every day from my childhood onward gave me a tremendous education about the natural world, and I was into familiar with every species of tree, all plants and wildflowers, and every type of bird that inhabited our region, and of course every mammal that lived in these valleys

and mountains. I grew up fly fishing and hunting waterfowl, upland birds and varmints and big game, which took me into some of the most beautiful and remote country imaginable. I mentioned these things so you'll understand my familiarity with every living thing, from the western deserts to Utah Red Rock country and the alpine peaks of the highest mountains. In all that time that I spent outdoors, I never had any calls for fear, nor did I see or

experience anything unusual. And then one August evening in two thousand and four, my fly fishing partner and I decided to stay out and watch the persed meteor shower at Strawberry Reservoir. We were excited to see the spectacle because of the clear skies and there would be no moonlight, no light pollution. We launched our float tubes into the water shortly before dark to enjoy some fly fishing and stargazing.

Perhaps an hour into the meteor shower, we both suddenly noticed something massive walking along the shoreline on all fours. Its silhouette instantly reminded me of a polar bear, with its huge hindquarters taller than its front shoulders, and its head was small for its body size. That was Garganchewan. We were way too close to the shore for comfort and paddled into the safety of deeper water as quickly as possible, and we both experienced a sense of dread

and terror. What was this giant thing? It was several times larger than the biggest black bear we had ever seen, and Utah doesn't have grizzly bears, which are not that large. Anyway, we observed the creature for a couple of minutes until it walked into the darkness and left the salone in the lake. Yeah, we were both terrified, knowing that eventually we'd have to get out of the water and run

up the hill to the suv. We had no explanation for what we saw, and back then I'd never heard of bigfoot walking on all fours, and since that time, I've read numerous accounts of people seeing these things down on all fours. It's the only answer I can come up with to account for the massive size of the

animal we witnessed. The experience we had on Strawberry that August night was a precursor for the year of two thousand and five, where everything changed and my life has never been the same since a doorway was open somehow to extraordinary strangeness that I never asked for, didn't seek and I can't seem to escape. As this is the one and only time I will record and recount these experiences, I will do my best to give you a detailed account of what happened in our lives during two thousand

and five and subsequent to that time. It all began innocently enough on a late winter day when my wife and I decided to go for a drive to town to get a taco for lunch. On the return trip, we were two blocks south of main street in our small town when suddenly a dog of some kind with short, dark gray hair walked out into the street in front of us. It was on two legs, and I slammed on the brakes as we watched this thing cross the road in disbelief. It ran into someone's yard on two

legs and went into the shrubbery out of sight. We were speechless, what the hell was that. We went home and I got online, and it didn't take long to find numerous images and videos of these same dogs walking upright all over the southwest of the United States and down into Mexico. Some people refer to them as chupacabras. All I know is that we were both very upset

by what we witnessed. A few weeks later, it was time for another friend and I to go on our first jeep expedition of the season, and we headed south toward Utah's San Rafael Swell. It's some of the most remote country in the lower forty eighths, and on the way we passed through San Pete Valley, where the second

strange encounter took place. At the north end of the valley, there is a small town called Melbourne, and just as we turned off the highway to head toward Melbourne, there was a huge black figure standing in low sagebrush and cheek grass at perhaps sixty yards away. I brought the jeep to a halt. We both stared at this thing with a very broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks.

We weren't close enough to make out any facial features, but could see the glistening black hair that covered this being in a conical shaped head, a barrel chest, long arms and narrow waist, and massive legs. Time stopped as we watched this thing for a few seconds, and then it turned its body to the south, took two and a half steps, and then it vanished. There was nowhere for it to hide. It didn't dash to a tree

for cover or drop to the ground. It was midway into its third step, with one leg raised in its foot up off the ground when it completely disappeared. It wasn't as though we watched it step into some unseen doorway where you'd observe the front part of the creature disappear followed by its backside. Not at all. It totally vanished in one instant of time in mid stride. You can imagine the fear that swallowed us, knowing that we had to drive down the road where this thing was

headed when it vanished. At that time, I had never researched anything about bigfoot, though I was certainly familiar with the claims of those who had seen those things. I didn't know there was a rich collection of encounters with these things vanishing from sight. But we both saw it in one moment, and the next it was gone. After the event concluded, we compared notes and both felt like it was nine feet tall, and it weighed perhaps as

much as six hundred pounds, maybe more. It didn't make any aggressive movements toward us, However, we both felt a deep foreboding sense of evil. We couldn't shake that horrible feeling, and we decided to postpone our jeep adventure for another time. The next in our series of life changing events occurred during the spring when we were doing some landscaping work in our yard. We lived a couple of miles outside of town and didn't have any close neighbors at the time.

I hesitate to record this incredibly strange event because no one will believe me, and still it's the most disturbing of the events of two thousand and five, and to leave a full and honest account, I'll tell you this part of my story. It still turns me inside out when I think about it. My oldest son was seventeen at the time, and he was helping me with some

landscaping work. We stopped for lunch, and while I was eating a sandwich in the house, I was looking into the backyard at our project and deciding what would work on next, when I saw a male American kestrel hawk flying toward a river birch tree in the back corner. But something was wrong with a bird, and I thought it was perhaps injured due to its erratic flight. Rather

than landing in the tree. The small and colorful hawk landed on the ground where we had been planting some barberry bushes, and it started moving its wings in a strain's unnatural way. And the next thing I knew, this bird pushed its wings up and away from its body in a manner that would be impossible for any bird to do, and then I was looking at something other than the hawk. More than sixteen years have passed since this event occurred, and I no longer remember the exact

order of what I witnessed. But over the next several minutes I observed this thing changed shapes into a rabbit with badly deformed ears, a squirrel that was incorrectly formed, then a weasel, a marmot, a badger, each of which was anatomic incorrect. At the same time as I witnessed this event, I was suddenly sick to my stomach and filled with nausea and a violent headache. The badger jumped down from the retaining wall and went over to a

hole in the field. My son came up stairs at that point, and I asked him to keep watching the hole while I went over there. I went through the garbage and I picked up a stout club I carried with me, and when I got to the hole, nothing was there, and I retreated to the couch, where I rested for a few hours to recover. Later research uncovered a material known as black goo or programmable matter that might account for what I saw. Perhaps it was something

from the military or the deep state. I don't know. Debilitating nausea continued for the next couple of weeks anytime I went outside near where I had seen that thing. Perhaps it was some kind of radioactivity. The next two events occurred on the same day. I was fly fishing with my partner at a different still water known as Schofield Reservoir. It was a gorgeous late spring day and the fishing was good. The sky was a stunning azure blue,

with white, fluffy clouds hanging low in the sky. At one point I looked almost straight above me and gasped at seeing a very large silver sphere in the sky that appeared to be covered in radio towers. It was not very high above me, as it was hovering between two of the low hanging clouds, and as soon as I saw it, the thing rapidly ascended and was gone

from sight in mere moments. And then on my way home, As we left the mountains and reached Highway six, we both saw a glow bowing orange ORB coming toward us in the opposite lane of traffic. My friend commented that it was about the size of a basketball. We watched it pass us and turned to watch it go behind us, but it disappeared. Later that summer, my friend would go fishing at Indian Creek Bay on Strawberry Reservoir, where he saw two orbs the same evening. Our lives were becoming

very weird. What in the world was happening to us? Well, this story is becoming so long, so I'll skip the next orb story. It's not that critical. We finally reached July fourth, after all the activities of the day, my wife and I were sitting on the back patio watching

fireworks in the town's east of where we lived. We had an unobstructed view for many miles in every direction, and after the fireworks ceased, we sat there enjoying the cool of the evening until almost midnight, when she grabbed my arm and said, what is that pointing up at the sky about halfway between our home and the mountains to the east. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes as we observed a huge, triangular shaped craft moved

silently across the sky. It had running lights along the top and bottom edge of the side we could see, and once it passed, we could see the back end, which also had running lights. It continued moving north until we lost sight of it. We were both two small town kids that couldn't understand why these inexplicable things were happening to us. But that was not the last unidentifiable thing we saw flying in the skies that year, but

it was the most remarkable one we saw. Sometime in August of two thousand and five, my fishing partner called me late one evening and said to go outside and look above the prominent mountain our valley. Well. I did so, and to my surprise, there was a new, very bright star in the sky we had never seen before, and it was flashing colors at an immense rate of change.

My friend had the latest and most powerful camera with a fantastic zoom lens, and he filmed the star, which not only flashed colors we couldn't name, but changed shapes each time it flashed. We watched it in slow motion, and we were astonished by the revelation of what his camera brought into focus, and over the years since two thousand and five, we've witnessed many such anomalies. By late September of that year, the heat of the summer was behind us and it was time to attempt the jeep

expedition once again. We made plans to explore a section of the San Rafael Swell that we had never visited. On our drive to the Swell, we once again passed through through San Pete Valley, and of course discussed the bigfoot siding from the spring. That was not my friend's first cryptid encounter, as I learned. After we passed the location of the siding, we both gave an audible sigh

of relief and proceeded on our way. Part Way through the valley, we decided to explore a range of hills we'd never visited before, and we pulled onto a gravel road that led up into the hills. I stopped the jeep on a bridge over a small irrigation canal as we looked ahead, trying to decide which way we wanted to go. It was eleven am and that's when I noticed movement below me to the left. In my peripheral.

When I looked directly at whatever had moved, I was instantly paralyzed with fear and incapable of movement or of speaking. Time absolutely stopped, and I couldn't even breathe. There below me, kneeling in the canal, was a monster covered in grizzled hair, a mixture of gray and light brown, with golden yellow colored eyes that were far apart, and a wide mouth

and narrow lips that were closed tightly together. I could not look away, and I couldn't move, as time stood still and I had a long look at this thing. The hair on its forehead began at the brow ridge and grew upward on its forehead until it reached the top of the head that was cone shaped. The hair was a uniform one inch in length, and the hair on its face gave it a perfect, full beard that grew up close to its eyes, leaving only a small

patch of charcoal gray skin around the eyes. It never blinked. The nose was whiter and flatter than a human nose, and hair grew across part of its nose. The space between the bottom of its nose and its upper lip was much wider than with humans. At least twice as wide, and even maybe more. The shoulders on this beast were four feet wide and massive with muscle. The hair was longer on its shoulders, maybe three or four inches long. There wasn't much neck to speak of, and it looked

like its head rested on its shoulders. The head was too small to match the massive shoulders, and its chest was full and rounded and covered in hair a couple of inches long. The shoulder muscles and biceps were incredibly huge. Because of its position in the canal, I couldn't see its elbows, lower arms, or hands. I also couldn't see below its chest. I never saw the legs at all.

I have assumed all these years that as I was parked on the bridge and the motor was running, it must have disturbed the creature that may have been sleeping or resting under the bridge, and it came out to investigate the source of the noise. But I'm just guessing. After taking a long look at this thing, I finally regained my composure enough to put the jeep in reverse and take my foot off the clutch and speed down out of there. My friend said later he thought I was

going to roll the jeep. He didn't know what I had seen, but he did see me staring out of the window. I let out a scream as we back down the steep road until we reached the pavement and drove away as fast as the jeep would go. A couple of miles down the road, I pulled over and I changed places with my friend, as I was too impacted by the encounter to drive safely. This time, we did go to the Swell, but the trip was a bus for me due to what I had witnessed. What

else did two thousand and five have in store? And as it turned out, that was not the final strange experience of the year. But I won't recite another u UO experience. My poor wife was seeing them in the mountains by our home and it shook her to her core. I want to share some observations. Prior to these experiences, I had never seen anything unusual or out of place in my outdoor life. Suddenly I knew the truth about

things that most people will never know. Regarding the two clearly identifiable bigfoot creatures, I've already said that the first black creature we saw felt intensely evil, but I did not have the same feeling about the second grizzled one. Its face was nine feet from my face, but it never grimaced it me or displayed any threatening behavior. It could have easily opened its mouth to growl at us

and show us its teeth, but its mouth remained closed. Yes, I was terrified and petrified with fear from simply seeing this monster up close, but I didn't feel any fear being projected from this creature as many people report. If anything, it seemed to purposefully not do anything to terrorize us whatsoever. But that being said, I've never been able to bring myself to visit that bridge again or camp out since

two thousand and five. I still go fly fishing as often as health permits, but I never go unarmed if we're off the beaten path. In October of twenty and nineteen, fourteen years after the bridge siding, I had another bigfoot encounter at a small lake in northern Utah called Mill Hollow, where I was fishing by myself. No one else was

at the lake that day. I didn't have a visual this time, but a mature white fur was pushed over nearby and the creatures made a sound I can only describe as a symph the orchestra, with all the strings and wind and brass instruments striking the same note together, accompanied by multiple car horns. The intensely loud sound lasted

for a single quarter note. They had my attention, and I assumed that rather than scream at me, they made this less threatening sound so as not to alarm the numerous bull elk that were bugling in the mountains around me. And I suspected that this was a hunting party and they wanted me gone. I gathered my fly riots and other gear, and I left the area. I've read other accounts of these things making all sorts of sounds, but I've never heard anyone report them sounding like a symphony orchestra.

And last in February of this year, twenty twenty one, one night, at twelve thirty am, something slapped the side of our home so hard that it fell like the house would come off its foundation. The slat was on the second floor, on the other side of the wall from my head. It reverberated through the house, and my youngest son in the basement called me, wondering what had

just happened. I instantly knew what had happened. One of the bigfoot creatures that I had encountered, found where I was living, and must have climbed up to the rock chimney and let me know that they knew where I was at. So many people have recorded such events of being harassed by these creatures that I wasn't surprised, but I took measures to hopefully keep it from happening again. And I hate the feeling of being a marked man. Well, cam that's my story. You're welcome to share it if

you desire. I could share other recent cryptid encounters, but I'm still trying to make peace with the idea of the massive upright canine variety. This world is not what I thought it was growing up on the farm or during all the years of hunting, fishing, and camping. No, not at all. We share this world with things that none of us are prepared for in our pathetic educational system. For some reason, the door to all these things opened wide for me in two thousand and five, and it's

never closed since. If I was to recount all of our strange encounters, it would require another email of this length or longer. Thankfully, the truth about many of these topics are coming to light and thanks for allowing me to get this off my chest. Dixie cryptied his fantastic thank you, Cam, You're the best, with my kindest regards, and then he signs off. Well, you know, I'm not commenting much on the end of these stories, but I just wanted to tell the man how much I appreciate

him sending this story. This is actually the second version of it. He had done some editing and found some typos. You guys don't have to do that. If it's a little errors you find, don't obsess over these stories. Just send them on. We take a look at them, we read them through before we narrate them. But I just thought this was a fantastic story, and I wanted to let him know that I know you're battling MS. You're in your sixties, and your story is out there, and

your time was not wasted. It's very enlightening and entertaining. So I appreciate the writer. Thank you.