Archive 240 Bigfoot Stories

freight trains to and from drilling sites. Their favorite spot was near a California town called Portola. As the train would begin to slow crawl up the mountain, they would jump off by a ranger station. The crew would unpack their camping gear and proceed to enjoy the next ten days of freedom, fishing and hunting and enjoying the isolated beauty of the forest in its nearby waterfall. It was a great place to be at one with nature before heading back to the rough and tumbled reality of their

drilling jobs. My husband and his crew were tough men, seizing veterans of the outdoors. They didn't fear anything because they all shared a mutual respect and understanding of their surroundings. But on this particular day, however, something would happen that would shake them into their core. My husband was the first one up at the campsite that morning, while the others barely stirred in their sleeping bags. He grabbed some clean clothes and shampoo, and then made his way the

three hundred yards to the waterfall. It was perfect for bathing. The basin at the foot of the falling water measured thirty square feet and was enclosed by twenty five feet of rock, like four sides of a wall. One of the crew members, a mountainous man who dwarfed the rest

of them at six foot four inches. He measured the depth of the pool by walking out to the middle of it until he was totally submerged, his bare feet sunk into the black sediment while his outstretched arms and fingertips extended just above the water's surface, So the pool had to be at least nine feet deep. My husband slipped into the basin and had just lathered his hair with shampoo when he heard an enormous splash and he

felt the water ripple around him. His eyes blinded by the soap, he assumed one of the crew had just joined him, and when suddenly he heard someone screaming his name in utter terror, he rinsed the soap from his eyes quickly, and he spotted his mountainous crew, remember yelling from the bank and pointing while my husband spun around and came face to face with something grotesque and horrific.

It wasn't a human. The water came up to its hairy chest and its head resembled a cross between a gorilla and a cave man let out a roar, and my husband saw the beast's enormous incisors. Before he could react, it raised its brawny arms over its head and brought them down into the water, and the resulting wave, knocking my husband backward. Were disoriented. My husband had swallowed a

mouthful of water and fought to gain his breath. By now, his crew had joined their mountainous coal worker on the bank, throwing rocks at this enormous man thing as it crawled from the pool. They watched it walk through a sixteen foot steel cable clothesline they had erected outside the camp. The thing pulled at it in anger, snapping it like sewing thread and dragging the remains into the woods. The panic crew made their way to the ranger station to

report the incident. They estimated the creature had to be at least ten feet tall with four foot arms. Its teeth were as long as kitchen knives. The range took statements from the four men. He questioned their lack of transportation, and my husband had to confess that they were illegal stowaways who had snuck aboard of the train. Well. The ranger considered their story and explained to them that the government was well aware of a manlike species existing in

the area. He further warned the men that these beings were under government protection and should they dare return or share their experience with the public, the full weight of the government would be brought to bear against the men and their families. My husband and the others looked at each other. What they had just witnessed was scary, but taking on the American government was something else. Entirely, they

took the highway back. This took place just outside the small town of Catawa, North Carolina, in September of nineteen ninety, where I lived with my three sibl wings and my sixty eight year old foster mother, Doris. I was the oldest child being nine, with my sisters being eight and five, and my brother was only six months old. We lived in a single wide trailer that was almost completely surrounded by woods and were connected to civilization by a rarely

used dirt road. When I say completely surrounded, behind us was woods, to our right was woods with a gully that ran thirty to forty feet deep, and across the dirt road was more woods. The only non wooded area was to our left, where there was a strip of trees with two fields just past them, which ironically enough, were surrounded by woods. Seeing as how Doris only allowed us to watch Nature, Nova and the smothers brothers, we spent almost all of our free time playing and exploring outside.

I was used to most of the sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded us outside, but a few did throw me off. Almost daily, I heard whoops and hollers that sounded just like howler monkeys or siamings. I had recently watched a Nature or Nova episode devoted to these monkeys, which I didn't think was right because none of those lived in the United States. Those calls always came from either behind our trailer or to the right of it

usually from a pretty decent distance. The woods behind the house was one of the few areas I never extensively explored. Every time I stepped into the tree line, I got this overwhelming feeling that something didn't want me there. I

didn't feel scared so much as sternly warned. However, on one occasion, I made it about twenty feet into the trees before getting that feeling that before I turned around, I noticed three or four decent sized saplings about ten or twelve feet tall, bent over and worked into one another, as if someone had tried to make a crude shelter. I finally got the hint and left those woods and

never went back in. And on maybe three or four more occasions, I remember waking up in the middle of the night to the overwhelming odor of what smelled like a wet dog wafting through my partially open window. It was summer and Doris was trying to save money by opening windows versus using the air conditioner. It would only last a few moments before the smell seemed to dissipate. Whenever I would experience any of this, I just kind

of brushed it off. I was going through a lot at the time in foster care and trying my best to make sure my siblings were taken care of. My mother made me a promise to look after them, so

I didn't think too much about anything else. I had never heard of anything in my young wife about bigfoot, so I just assumed that the noises were from birds that I had never learned, the names of the smells were from animals pooping close to the house or my brother's diaper, and that the whole woods behind the trailer ordeal was me being a scaredy cat. All of that

changed in late September of nineteen ninety. We were all from school for a teacher work day and we had decided that we were going to go about a quarter of a mile down the road and try our hand at climbing this clay embankment that was especially challenging. Doris wasn't fond of the mess we would make of ourselves, but since we were wearing our well worn play clothes, she let us go. So I went with my two sisters down to the clay embankment, and when I got there,

I stopped. When my oldest sister asked me what was wrong, I pointed to the two bare footprints that led us up the embankment. They were about thirteen inches long and about five inches wide. The only reason I remember this is because we had just finished working on this art project in school, and I had made it a point to measure my hand. Thumb tip to the tip of

my middle finger was five inches. I was confused, first of all by the fact that someone had seemed to climb this really steep embankment barefoot, and secondly by the fact that they had apparently had done it in two steps. I looked up the embankment and tried to figure out which way it had gone. I looked left and saw nothing unusual. But when I looked right, I saw something that boggled my mind. About seventy five yards away, I saw what looked like a weird, oversized gorilla walking on

two legs across the road. It had taken one step into the middle of the road, and as it went to take the second step, it turned at the hips and looked at us. It didn't slow down or make a sound. The second step put it on the other side of the road, and then it descended down into the gully. The entire encounter from my discovery of the footprints to the creature disappearing from view lasted maybe fifteen seconds. After that, I made my sister's run back to the

trailer and I was right behind them. I told Doris about it, but she laughed at me and said I had a really great imagination. I didn't learn anything about what Bigfoot was, not even the name, until we went to our local library a few weeks later and I saw a book with a Bigfoot face on the cover. I knew instantly that that was what I had seen, and since then I have spent the next twenty nine

years researching and listening to other people's encounters. I've traveled around the entire lower forty eight states and through five time zones of Canada from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast, offer hiking and photography. I have visited all the big cities, but most of the time I'm in one of the national parks or state parks or national monuments. Recently, during the winter, my daughter and I headed to Florida for a week or two. The highlight for us was Key West.

We spent a couple of days in the Keys, and after getting our fill of beautiful sunsets, we headed back to the mainland. We reached US forty one through the Everglades around midnight, and we found a water pump station and we parked under the light pole to kill some time and rest up. After a while, a police car pulled into the station. I assumed it wanted us and everyone else out, so I started the car again and

I pulled onto the road heading west. We wanted to be at Sharp Valley entrance to the Everglades National Park by sunrise so we could spend the day hiking, and our plan was to pass the entrance and find a safe place to park for a few hours. We drove past Monroe Station and found a picnic area and we parked. The moon was an upside down crescent sitting far in the east of a black sky full of stars, and after just a few minutes I saw a shooting star.

And my daughter had fallen asleep by then, and as I scanned the sky looking for more action in the distance, I saw a light coming our way. I thought it may have been a lightning bug, since in Florida insects seem a lot bigger than back home in New Jersey. But as I watched it get closer, I realized it wasn't a lightning bug at all. It was the eye of a ten foot tall monster. It was blazing evil a giant lemon, and sticking out from the head of

a beast. I fumbled to reach for the headlights, but my better senses told me not to let this thing know I was there. It moved like it was on roller skates, without the slightest bounce in its step, and it was so big that it would have had to have stooped down to look an elephant in the eye, and it could have ripped the roof off my car and plucked us like eggs from a basket. But instead it disappeared into the darkness to the east, and I could tell it was on a mission, and I was

relieved it didn't involve me and my daughter. At that point, I didn't care about getting any sleep, so I started the car and drove it to the exit and got straight out of there. When morning came, we headed back to the Everglades National Park, and when we passed through Monroe Station again, we saw signs that said don't feed the Bigfoot. I have repeatedly heard that Bigfoot has red eyes, but the eyes of the creature I saw were blazing

fluorescat yellow without any pupils. I'm sure it could see in the dark and must have known my daughter and I were there. I believe it was a dog man, and I told my daughter about it the next morning, and to this day, I'm ridden with guilt that I endangered her life by not getting out of there sooner. It had the chance to confront us, but for some reason it chose not to. We were lucky it didn't come back with a friend and to pick up the car and carry us away to never be seen again. Wow,

that's another Florida, Florida's story, I said. When I first started it, it was labeled a dog Man's story and the sign said don't fit feed Bigfoot. This is in Florida Monroe Station Everglades National Park. I guess this guy saw a dog man. I wonder if he saw any more detail other than the shape, because it was dark and there was a crescent man, there wasn't a full moon, and it had big glowing eyes. Man man, That is cool,

cool story. Thank you to the writer. I hope you guys have gotten over that episode and they're continuing to hike and did you say you do Yeah, hiking in photography. He's a photographer, so I hope you're still into that. I really do, and again I appreciate the story, sir. I'm an ex park ranger, an avid outdoor enthusiast, and

an experienced camper, hiker, and kayaker. I've spent countless days and nights working in and exploring state national parks all over the country, and particularly in my home state of Florida, where we have a variety of wildlife. I also have several years of experience with wildlife rehabilitation and an understanding of wildlife behaviors. I'm no stranger to a variety of noises in the outdoors at all times of day and night.

I enjoy camping with others, and I often pursue solo camping adventures so I can hone my photography skills and HI can explore where and when I want and travel as faster as far as I like, without being slowed by someone else or expecting them to adhere to my schedule. A lone time on an outdoor adventure also helps me tune in to nature and get closer to wildlife without disturbing them, and enable them to get closer to me,

and it allows me to get better photography opportunities. As a middle aged woman, I'm well aware of safety concerns while on my adventures, and I have a good sixth sense or radar as my dad used to call it, an invaluable skill, especially as a solo adventurist. I've had a few alarming close calls out there over the years, and I can say with certainty that I am much more wary of humans than wildlife. I know what wild animals are up to and why, but humans not so much.

I have a concealed weapons license, and I bring a handgun on camping trips, as well as pepper spray, bear spray, a whistle, several knives, and even an air horn. Having said that, I don't get spooked easily. I'm simply a practical, realistic person in a sometimes dangerous world. The experience I'm about to share with you, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget, let alone fully comprehend. It's not the scariest or strangest thing ever, but unforgettable. Nonetheless, everyone

I recount this story to says the same thing. They agree it's bizarre and can offer no reasonable explanation. In the spring of twenty seventeen, I arrived at Manatee Spring State Park, located west of Gainesville near the Gulf Coast of Florida, around noon and felt fortunate to book the last remaining of a site for the night. I set up my tent and placed a tablecloth over the picnic table, as well as several items such as a water jug, lantern,

park information and other items. My site was adjacent to a trail that leads to the spring head, where the concessions stand and picnic pavilions and entry to the spring run are located. The springhead and day use area are popular for swimmers and divers and paddlers and picnicers, and they are opened during daylight hours only. I was eager to explore all this gorgeous park has to offer, and as I was standing next to my picnic table studying the trail map, I had an intense sensation that I

was being watched. I looked up to see a tall, thin, pale young man he was maybe twenty years old, walking past my site on the trail from the spring into the campground. He was looking over directly at me with a wide, knowing grin, as if he was far too interested in me, and he was continually nodding his head at me as he walked past. He never stopped that smirk and head nodding even after he saw that I saw him looking at me, and his eyes never left mine as he walked past. Neither of us said a

word to the other. Puzzled and kind of weired it out, I watched him continue on further into the campground, where I could only assume that he was also camping. It kind of gave me the creeps, because nothing about my clothes, demeanor, or actions would have elicited interest or attention from anyone in any way, especially a young man less than half my age while minding my own business in my own campsite. I wrote him off as a weirdo, and I pushed it to the back of my mind while I continued

planning my adventures for the rest of the day. I gathered my cameras and hiking gear, and I headed down the trail to the spring head. When I was taking photos and enjoying the wildlife and the crystalline blue waters and majestic old oaks and cypress trees. After exploring some hiking trails for a few hours. I headed back up the spring trail to my campsite and I ate a quick dinner, and I looked through the photos and videos

and began planning the next day's adventure. To my relief, I did not see the strange acting young man again. Everything seemed peaceful and normal in the campground, or so I thought. At sunset, I noticed the thick fog settling in. During normal daytime visibility, I could easily see the bath house and many other nearby campers even way across the loop.

But I soon realized how dramatically that was changing. Darkness descended quickly in an every quiet envelope the campground, along with a dense fog, and suddenly I remembered the young man from earlier, and I got a creepy sensation. So I decided I'd feel safer if I slept in my lock truck cab instead of my tent. I certainly did not want any unexpected surprises at my tent during this dark and foggy night, And after a while I got comfortable leaning back in the driver's seat and I hoped

for a peaceful night sleep. Although I was admittedly concerned with the lack of visibility in those conditions, I cracked the side windows a little for ventilation so that I could at least hear outside, because I truly could not see anything. It was so black outside and the fog was the thickest I had ever encountered in my life. I strained to see something, anything out my windshield or back or side windows, but it was impossible. I could not even see the huge light over the bathhouse. I've

never experienced such a sense of nowareness. It was like I was all alone in the dark arc was a silent cloud of nothingness, completely helpless and alone. It's possible that I would have been able to fall asleep soon, but the silence was permeated by the sound of distant drums beating, reminiscent of some sort of native ritual. I got a distinct feeling of being acutely aware of the life giving spring and lands that were sacred to the

natives for thousands of years in this area. The sounds never got very loud or close, but it sure seemed like the drumming was coming from the Springhead area, which I thought was really odd because the entire area of the park is closed after dark, and it would be impossible for anyone to even see to get down there anyway. Lights are useless in this thick fog, And why would anyone want to form a drumming circle or anything on such a night like this? Were they the sounds of

native spirits from another realm? Things were getting really strange, and I struggled to make a logical sense of any of it. An hour passed when suddenly, as if things weren't eerie enough, bam, my truck bed bounced so hard that it shook my whole truck. Something fell in the bed of my truck, but I couldn't see anything. All I could see was thick, black, foggy nothingness, and my brain raced for an explanation. Maybe it was a raccoon or some other critter that had fallen out of a

tree in this thick darkness, But that was crazy. And besides, I would have heard an animal scramble up and out of my truck bed, right, but I heard nothing other than the drumming. Besides, what animal would be that heavy to bounce my truck so hard? Maybe a dead tree branch fell. Does that mean there could be more, or maybe that guy sneaked over here in the dark to mess with me. Well, there's no way he could even see to get over here in this thick, black fog.

I thought, maybe this, Maybe that nothing made any reasonable sense. When logic doesn't suffice, what's a brain to do? And I tried to comfort myself in all the confusion, and I told myself I would probably find a decayed old tree branch in the back of my truck in the morning, right, it was a little consolation. Meanwhile, the drum beats continued for a couple more hours in the eerie, foggy darkness, and then they suddenly stopped, and there was nothing but

silence and fog and darkness for hours. I hoped I would be safe inside here, and I never felt so helpless and vulnerable in my life. I felt like bait. I had no choice but to stay wide awake all night with my senses on high alert. The thick fog remained and I could not see anything outside of my truck at all all night long, and the night seemed

very long. Indeed, the minutes and the hours dragged on. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I noticed a slight sign of daylight, but did not feel comfortable yet or safe enough to open my door or dare to step outside lest I inadvertently make myself vulnerable to whatever or whoever might be out there. After several more minutes, I began to notice the vague outline of nearby trees in the bath house light. Finally, daylight was coming soon enough.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I slowly and quietly opened my truck door, and I stepped outside, and I scanned the area, and then I eagerly turned to see what had fallen into the bed of my truck. I had to know, well, there was nothing nothing, no branches, no tree bark, no animal. There was nothing there. Everything was exactly as I had left it. How could this be? Now?

Everything seemed even more bizarre, since there was no reasonable explanation for the huge thud that made my truck bounce. The fog soon lifted completely, and like magic, the daylight and sunshine erased all mysterious and eerie sensations as if they had never happened. Still totally perplexed and not knowing what to make of anything, I packed my gear and headed for my next destination. I guess I'll never get any explanations, the creepy young guy, the ridiculously thick fog.

Unlike any I had ever seen the drums beating from the springhead on such a dark, foggy night, or the huge thud that shook my truck, but it sure felt like I had suddenly been an unwitting guest in a Hitchcock film for several hours. I continue to enjoy camping adventures all over the country, but when I left that morning, I swore that I would never return to that park alone. Thanks for reading, and keep up the great work. My friends call me Hook