Archive 65 Bigfoot

Our favorite destination was a couple of miles away. It was a beautiful lake surrounded by dense woods. We were a very clean cut bunch, so there was no drinking at all, just breathless crushes on the private school preppy boys and lots of flirting and laughter. One summer evening, we all drove to this glorious lake in the moonlight and walked through the old growth trees. As my friend and I stopped under one very large, gnarled ancient tree,

something inexplicable happened. It was like a glass bell jar fell over us and we could not hear a thing. There were no crickets, no wind, and no waves. Lapping at the lake shore. Even the boys who were joking around no more than ten feet away from us were muffled and distant sounding. I asked my friend, do you feel this? What's happening? She was stunned and frightened. Clearly, only the two of us were experiencing this dead, eerie, unnatural silence. It was like we had just, for a

couple of minutes, stumbled into an alternate dimension. Just as suddenly as it fell over us, the bell jar lifted and all the noises resumed. We're now in our mid sixties with grown children of our own. We're still best friends, and we still talk about that experience. For years and years, we attributed it to my brother trying to send a message from the afterlife. In recent years, I've heard of many Bigfoot accounts and on your site that make me

think now that this was a close encounter with a creature. Instead, it makes sense perhaps that they can flip into a different dimension and alter hours. Whatever the case may be, we certainly did experience something otherworldly that evening, even if just for an unforgettable moment. All right, all right, if y'all hear a little rumble going on during this podcast. That's my wife out running the lawnmower in our yard. She's a peach. She said she wanted to cut grass,

so I said, you go for it. Girl. Here is an email written by a woman who doesn't want to reveal her name, but here's what she writes. And this is so good. She writes, I'm eighty three years old and I listened to podcast with my daughter. Doing so has triggered a memory of a story. My father used to tell. What he encountered was a mystery to him,

but he never forgot it. In nineteen thirty three, he was twenty years old and living on an exceptionally large farm between Lenore and Blowing Rock and the foothills of North Carolina with his mother and father. He was the oldest of eight children. My mother, who was nineteen at the time and the youngest of ten children, lived ten miles away on the next farm over with her mother. My mother's father had died just before she was born, so to make ends meet, my grandmother had turned their

big home into a boarding house. At the time, my parents were courting and making wedding plans. On the hot summer night in question, my father had stayed later than he usually did. He had lost track of time as they planned out their future nuptial. In those days, there was no electricity in that area and the roads were all dirt. Anyone who has been in the mountains at night knows there's nothing quite as dark as the darkness

that falls on the mountains. My father had a long walk home, and for navigation he only had the stars that he could see between the branches of the trees that line the road and form the canopy overhead. At six foot two, my father was a big man who was not afraid of anything. Like most men of that era, he was used to hunting and spending time in the woods. He'd made it to within about a half a mile from home when he began to hear something following him.

It came up alongside him, and he could clearly tell that was something one two feet It was too dark to see what it was, but he said he would take a step, and it would take a step. He would walk, and it would walk, and when he stopped, it would stop. My father said he it could not be a panther or a bear, because they both walk on all fours. He was just as sure it wasn't a man, and he kept thinking, what is this. He didn't have a gun on him, so he felt a

bit helpless, and he dared not run. Not knowing what it was. He only knew it was very big, and he kept walking, and this thing kept pace with him the whole way, just few feet away. He was unnerved, but did not want to show the fear that he felt. Up ahead, he could see the lights of his family's home in the distance. There was a fenced in pasture in front of the house that he normally would have avoided. There were a lot of cattle in the pasture and

with them was a big, mean bull. For that reason, he would normally stay on the road and walk around the pasture and across the creek. This night, as soon as my father reached the fence, the thing let out a blood curdling scream, and that was enough to make him run. He jumped the fence and lost the pasture with lightning speed, not stopping until he reached the front porch. As he ran, he thought, where are my coon hounds?

Where are my hunting dogs? They usually ran out to greet him, and they weren't afraid of anything, but on this night, they were nowhere to be found. This scared him even more. He knew whatever this thing was, it must be bad to keep the dogs from coming out. He was finally getting close to the porch, but he couldn't see the first step because it was so dark. Well, he took a guess and took them two at a time until he was at last standing on the wide verandah.

That's when he heard the dogs. They were up under the house whimpering. He looked back and he couldn't see anything, but he knew it was still there. He quickly stepped inside as if nothing had happened. He didn't want to frighten his family, nor did he ever tell them about it through the years, though he would occasionally tell us the story. He didn't know anything about Bigfoot, but I was warned as a child not to go into the

woods at night because there were boogers out there. He said he never again stayed too late, while according my mother, he always made sure he left well before it got dark. We have often wondered what it could have been that my father encountered. After listening to the stories of other people's accounts on your channel, I really do believe it was a bigfoot that walked along the road with him that dark summer night. In nineteen thirty three, my father's

father had his own tale to tell. It's shorter and a bit funny. He also never said anything about believing in Bigfoot, but he did believe in wooly boogers. My grandfather's story took place in nineteen twelve in the Mortimer area of North Carolina. It was another dark night and another dark road. As with my father, he was looking up through the overhead branches at the night sky for guidance. I guess that's just what they did back in those days.

My grandfather described the night as so dark he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. That fact, combined with the fact that he was looking up, is probably why he didn't see it. Not of nowhere, he stumbled over something. He was unable to regain his balance, and he fell, landing right on top of something large and furry. It was a huge animal that was lying in the road. Two Dazed and shocked to move, he just sat there until the creature swatted him away like

a pesky fly. Then, to his amazement, it got up and walked off like a man. When telling the story, he would always assure us that it was not a bear, and he didn't know what it was, and he would finish the story each time with this quote. But it was huge. Let me tell you, I'm a former active duty Marine CORSE sergeant, Once a Marine, always a Marine, just not in as good as shape as I was then in the winter of nineteen ninety seven, I was only a Lance corporal or an E three mountain training

in northern California. We'd been training for weeks, getting physically acclimated to the mountainous terrain, the higher altitude in cold weather, but most of us were in good spirits. It was almost over. Our last training evolution was ambush training. We were to set up and wait for the other half of our class. We were to ambush them and they

were to defend our foe attack. We were set up in two man groups, set twenty meters apart, just inside a tree line, opposite a little valley that acted like a choke point. We all dug in with interlocking fields of fire and distances mapped out man We were ready. Part of the exercise. As always to hurry up and wait. It allows for too much speculation. When are they coming? Did they discover us and decide to flank us? Or are they just going to try and sneak past? The

mind wanders when you know it's just training. Soon, we took turns in our two men fighting positions of one hour on and one hour off watch us so we could get some rest since we had been up for a long time at that point. This game took place from twenty one hundred to three hundred, that's nine pm to three am for any civilian timekeepers who might be wondering. At zero hours, several of us heard a loud snap coming from about one hundred yards in front of us,

across the ravine. It sounded like a tree had been quickly and efficiently snapped In two. I wrestled my fellow marines await. The time to hurry up and wait was passed, and we could get this evolution over soon and we would be all warm and dry and sleeping comfortably. Let's get this done. With our sixteen two rifles fitted with BFA's blank firing apertures and mags loaded with blanks at the ready, we waited silently to lay fake waste to

the fake enemy. We didn't have fancy night vision goggles and optics back then, so we were operating by the nicely lit, starfilled sky. We heard another snap and made ready. Next we heard something crunching through the snowpack across the valley. We were getting itchy on the trigger to get this over with, as we had all waited and focused on the silence. We were trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from, but we still had no visual on

the enemy. As we watched for signs of movement, a loud, deep, angry sounding roar erupted from the far side of the little valley. It occurred to several of us that this might not be the end enemy that we were expecting. It was like no other animal we'd ever heard. It had such a deep base that we could literally feel the sound resonate through our bodies. It must have seen or smelled us. My fellow Marina and I looked at each other with what the hell was that written all

over our faces. Our radio came alive, telling us to regroup and pack it in. We were confused because we thought that we were finally going to get into the action, but we quickly and quietly moved out and back to the training class site. The next day, we did a patrol and assess the area. The opposite side of the little valley was steep and shaded out by trees, which is why we heard the noise but couldn't see anything. We soon found huge footprints in the hard packed snow.

I'm six foot three and I wegh one hundred and ninety pounds. I could barely crunch down into the snow more than a couple of inches. These tracks were easy, packed down eight inches deeper more. I estimated them to be sixteen to eighteen inches long and eight inches wide. As we stared at the prince, our normal banter stopped and we fell silent. We were stunned, not just by the size of the prince, but the distance between them. Whatever this thing was, it had a stride of six

to seven feet. The tracks led into the tree line, where we could no longer see them. We asked the trainer if we could follow the trail, but tracking something not on the training schedule was not permitted, no matter how much we begged to do it. As the class wrapped up, some of the rity or less tactful marines were already mouthing off about it being a bigfoot. Well that was my thought too. We were all told that we didn't see anything, nor did we hear what we

thought we heard. That seemed odd, but I didn't question it. I just followed orders. However, as military guys will do, all disgusted among ourselves and came to the consensus that we all heard and saw the tracks of a bigfoot, even though we didn't actually see it. The gutal roar and the tracks convinced us that's what it had to be. I was honestly never scared, nor were any of my

fellow marines. Mostly we were just curious and amazed. I'm guessing the overwhelming fear that people experience is from actually seeing it and not from distant noises. To this day, I fully believe that the source of those sounds in Princes was the ever elusive Sosquatch. I have also come to the conclusion that our training was stopped because our training staff heard it from their position. Maybe they knew something that we didn't. Maybe they were used to being

around and knew better than to mess with it. Stay vigilant and simperfi