Archive 90 Bigfoot

but later he called it knowledge. The second book Castanetta wrote their Ten of Them is entitled a Separate Reality. The key to these realities is the ability to stop the internal dialogue or in other words, the constant chit chat of thought. If you think about it, we never stop thinking. Even when we are sleeping, our minds are active. Apparently, when we stop this internal dialogue, we open the door

to new realities and abilities. So many of the anomalies surrounding the Bigfoot experience are almost identical to the experiences Don Juan put Castanetta through, like being frozen to the spot, or the feeling of being ill, or the now you see me. Now, you don't type thing that Bigfoot displays. I can't help thinking that due to the fact that Bigfoot doesn't have the distractions of the modern world to fill his or her mind, he or she has these

abilities that Don Juan taught Castanetta. I don't think they come from other dimensions. Rather, I think some of them have mastered the art of stopping the world, as Don Juan calls it, in other words, stopping thinking, and they can therefore jump from one dimension to another. The reason I think this is because there are videos of mother Bigfoots with young ones. If they did come from another dimension, why on earth would they bring their kids with them.

That doesn't make sense to me. So I think it's more a case that they're from our world but can jump into another dimension when cornered. At least some of them have this stability. And then he goes on the right. Keep the stories coming, buddy. And by the way, I love your accent. Oh man, this accent thing. This is a big deal to get to some people. I don't know why, but it's just the way we talk down here,

so I can't disguise it anyway. This was an interesting email and it's not so much that it has to do with Bigfoot, but it intrigues me about this idea of being able to stop thinking. I mean, think about that. Our minds are working all the time. They never stop working. I never stopped thinking. I think all the time, and I wonder what it would be like to just in a conscious way, remain conscious and stop thinking, go into such a deep meditative state that you actually stop thinking

and kind of go blank for a few minutes. Would you stop breathing? Would your heart? Would your involuntary organs stop beating like your heart? Would you stop breathing? I don't think so, they're involuntary, so, but I don't know. I just don't know what that would lead to, but it is a fascinating concept. Sometimes. I've read a few things about this remote viewing phenomenon that I think even our military has used were people I'm not even sure exactly what it is. That's how dumb I that's what

a moron I am with this stuff. I don't I just don't have time to read up on it. But it's interesting stuff to me, and I myself would love to be able to just shut my mind down, man, just for fifteen minutes a day. That would be fantastic. And I wonder if I did, could I transport myself to another place? Maybe not physically, but psychologically go to another place. I don't know if that's even feasible or not, but the whole concept is fascinating and if it has

to do with Bigfoot, it would make perfect sense. Now here's the thing. We can all have opinions on any of this stuff because none of us know anything about Bigfoot. And if you think you do know something, you really don't. You really don't. You're just acting like you do because we don't know anything about these things, and all opinions and ideas are up in the air. I mean, we can come up with anything we want. This one seems very interesting to me. Hope you guys enjoyed his theory.

Thanks Keith for sending the email. Please accept the following account. It is true and has turned me from a disinterested skeptic into a thoroughly fence sitter. All right, here we go, That's what he writes. All right, here we go. Let me preface my story by saying that although I grew up in a suburb of Raleigh, North Carolina, I've always been a country boy at heart. My paternal grandparents had a farm in central North Carolina, and when I wasn't there,

I wanted to be. There were rolling hills, creeks, and milo fields, separated by tracks of hardwoods teeming with squirrels, rabbits, and quail. Some of the happiest times of my life were spent on this farm, roaming the woods, camping, hunting, and fishing. For a young boy who craved adventure, it was paradise. I would disappear into the woods for days. Back then, it simply wasn't a big deal for a young boy to go off camping by himself, as long as his parents had a general idea as to where

he would be and when he would get back. Looking back, I was probably safer in the woods on my grandfather's farm than just about anywhere else. There are no dangerous animals in this part of the state, and the only things that caused me concern were ticks, chiggers, and the occasional copperhead. When I wasn't playing Daniel Boone on the farm, I would often go on trips with my boy Scout troop in the nearby Ywary. He spelled it out phanatically for me, you warri and see I pronounced it wrong.

In the nearby Yuari National Forest, if you aren't familiar with it, this National Forest is about fifty one thousand acres, with most of it in Montgomery County. I've hiked a considerable amount of this forest, sometimes willingly and sometimes begrudgingly, due to a directionally challenged assistant scout master who we nicknamed lost Again Lewis Oh. That's so his shortcuts could turn a five mile day hike into a twenty mile

overnight hike. I mention all this simply to establish that from an early age I would regularly spend time in the woods. I'm familiar with the local animals, and I don't spook easily. Unfortunately, when relating a story such as this, you feel obligated to qualify yourself in order to preemptively silence some of the questions from armchair synics. I've never really understood why, but to me, a lot of the

Yuari National Forest has a foreboding feel. There are places that, even on a sunny day and winter when all the leaves have fallen, seem unnaturally dark and sinister. Several books written by local folkloreist Fred Morgan support this observation and contain many accounts of disconcerting and often violent events that have occurred in the area. In early March of twenty twelve, I had a little time off and I decided to load up my old land Rover and head out for

a remote camping spot in the northwest Uaris. I've always preferred to hike, hunt and fish and camp alone. To me, the solitude is cathartic. To my delight, the campground I chose was completely deserted. There was a host site that contained an older travel trailer, but its condition indicated that it was abandoned. I selected a site at the very end of a loop road, as far from the unoccupied trailer and as close to the dense woods as I

could get. I planned on being there at least four or five days, so I set up my large, six person Cabella's dome tent rather than my smaller backpacking tent. After eating supper, I decided to turn in early. It was already getting dark and I was bushed. I settled into my sleeping bag and turned off my lantern and was very quickly fast asleep. Around midnight, I was awoken by a distant howl that my sleep addle mind tells me is probably a wolf, even though I know there

are no wolves in central North Carolina. In response to the cry, a pack of dogs began to bay. I lay still for a few minutes, listening to all the racket, but soon it died down and all was quiet. Having heard many odd noises while in the woods, and being a pragmatic I chuckled to myself and tried to go back to sleep. My sixth sense was tapping me on the shoulder in saying that something wasn't exactly right, but

I closed my eyes anyway. Ten to fifteen minutes later, as I began to drift back to sleep, the howls repeated, and this time it was closer. Again. It was a similar cry of a wolf, but the tone wasn't right. It was lower and deeper. The dogs again reacted with a chorus of yowling, but they seemed rather far away. They were reacting to an unknown coller, but they were not following it, or it had eluded them. At this point,

I was a bit puzzled, but certainly not scared. It bothered me that I couldn't identify the animal that was making the yells. But I knew for an absolute fact that there were no dangerous animals in this part of the state. Also, I had a pistol on me, and what were the eyes that this animal, whatever it was, would come directly to me into my camp. There was no chance at all. Right, Again, I shrugged and closed my eyes. This time I fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

Forty five minutes later, I'm jolted away by a rumbling bellow that seemed right on top of me, and it was just as loud, very loud. My first thought, as I shook the sleep from my head was that someone outside my tent was roaring at me through a bullhorn. It was so close, so unidentifiable, and so loud that I was immediately terrified. Even more disturbingly, as the scream slowly died out, it was replaced by heavy breathing and bipedal footsteps in the leaf litter heading towards my tent.

I tried to convince myself that this must be a person playing a dangerous practical joke, but the steps were much too heavy. I remember having the bizarre thought that this prankster must be stomping around with anvils tied to their shoes, and that absurd idea made me quickly realize that this was no prank. There was an exceptionally large and angry animal outside my tent, and I had no

idea what it was. Sitting up but still halfway in my sleeping bag, I slowly and quietly scooched to the middle of the large tent, ridiculously believing that somehow being in the center would provide some safety. I quietly grabbed my compact nine millimeter out of my duffel bag, and I slowly flipped the safety and I listened. When you're truly frightened, you feel flushed. Your senses seemed to sharpen,

and time appears to slow down. I could hear every leaf and twig that broke under this creature's feet as it approached. I also vividly recall turning my head towards the oncoming noise, and with each footfall, seeing small ripples being created and a half empty bottle of water across the dark tent, exactly like in the first Jurassic Park movie. Options ran through my mind. I could yell out and hope that whatever this was would be startled and leave. I could step out of the tent and confront it.

I could remain quiet and see what happened. I had no idea what was outside, so I decided to sit still and wait. The footsteps were getting closer, but they slowed in pace. They stopped at what I guess would be about ten feet away from my tent. I had my pistol pointed in this thing's direction, and I was debating whether to fire off a couple of blind rounds through the tent wall. I'm very conscious about gun safety and would normally never consider this, but abject terror can

result in bad decisions. In retrospect, I genuinely believe that had this creature taken another couple of steps towards me, I would have emptied the clip. Thankfully I didn't. The animal was now standing still, and it began making an odd snuffling sound that led me to believe it was smelling the air. It reminded me of a pig running, only deeper, and it was all followed by a long

and heavy excel. The animal was a few feet outside, sniffing and grunning and snorting, trying to determine its next step, and I was sitting in the middle of the tent, sweating and horrified, with a death grip on my little pistol. This went on for what seemed like several minutes, though more likely it was only thirty to forty seconds. I was so tense that my arm holding the pistol began to shake, and I felt like I was going to hyperventilate.

I felt that I was close to a physical and mental breaking point, and I knew that I desperately needed for this to end. After a few more frantic seconds of thought, I realized that, for good or bad, I must try to take control of the situation. I resolved to quietly slip out of my sleeping bag, slit open the back tent, and jump out, ready to shoot. I made a bit of noise while trying to slide my legs out of the sleeping bag, and the animal let

out a grunt that almost sounded like a question. There was an upward inflection at the end of the noise that made me think it might have been confused. Looking back, I believe it may not have been certain that I was in the tent until I heard the movement. I froze, and for a few more seconds there was an absolute and terrifying silence. Then there was a deep in what I imagined to be a derisive grunt. It sounded like a bull snorting, but seemed to have an almost cynical tone.

It then began to stomp off in the direction from which it came, grunting loudly with every step. As this thing trudged off, I heard a loud cracking sound, as if a large tree branch was being broken, and then another deafening roar, the sound of something being dragged in the leaves, and heavy footsteps continued to move away. I stayed perfectly quiet until I couldn't hear it any longer, and then I took a deep breath to relieve some of the stress in my body. I was still on alert,

but slowly beginning to relax a little. After a few more minutes of silence, I decided that the animal was probably gone, but there was no way that I was going to spend the rest of the night in that flimsy, nih line tent. I grabbed my car keys and stealthily unzipped the tent and crept to my vehicle. My pistol was still in my hand. I would drive to the closest town, find a well lit parking lot, and sleep in my car. Tomorrow I would go back to collect

my gear. So I fired up my rover and turned on the headlights, and to my horror, there was a large tree limb about ten feet in front of the truck blocking my exit. It was big enough that I don't think I could drive over it without doing some significant damage to my vehicle, but it was not so large that I couldn't drag it partially out of the way and drive around it. I decided, however, that I wasn't going to get out of my car until daylight.

I turned off the lights, I lowered my seat all the way back, I rolled my window down about a half inch so I could hear, and I turned off the ignition. The rest of the night is a blur to me. Now. I didn't go back to sleep, but there were times that I wasn't completely awake either. I would start to not off, but my mind would not allow it. Thankfully, nothing else happened, and at first light I was able to break camp and move the tree

branch enough to get my vehicle out. When I returned home, my wife immediately asked why are you back so soon? I didn't want to lie, but I simply couldn't figure out a way to explain what had happened without sounding like a lunatic. So I just made up a story about not realizing that there was no self service, that I didn't feel comfortable being out of touch with her for four or five days. Again, before this incident, I

had no real interest in cryptids. However, I immediately began reading everything I could on them, focusing on reports from the Yuari region. To my great surprise, I found several accounts

from this area, including a rather famous one. I learned that I was remarkably close to the sighting made by Michael Greene I think that's his name, who at the time was involved with the BFRO in North Carolina, and who had recorded thermal video of a humanoid figure snatching a candy bar from the top of a tree stump at a family gathering. Not long afterwards, my maternal grandmother, who grew up just outside the northwest boundary of the forest, became upset when she was told I had been camping

there alone. She said that I shouldn't go there by myself, and it was too dangerous. Well, When I asked her why, she wouldn't give me a straight answer. She would simply repeat, just don't go there alone. You should not go there alone. I'm still not convinced that I had an encounter with the hairy linebacker, but I don't know what animal walks on two feet and causes the ground to vibrate, roars louder than a lion, and breaks tree limbs. If you

can come up with one, please let me know. However, I didn't actually see anything, and the more practical side of me believes that there must be a rational explanation. If it was a bigfoot, then I'm glad I didn't see it, and I'm very happy not having a close up image of that ugly mug in my head. The event alarmed me enough that I didn't go into the woods for a while, but I couldn't stay away for long. I gave away my tents, I bought some larger guns,

and eventually I purchased a small travel trailer. When I'm out overnight. Now I sleep like a baby. Maybe it's a false sense of security, but helps were made