In nineteen ninety two, I met a man named Bob who became my best friend. He was twenty three years older than I was, but he was a character and we hit it off immediately. At the beginning of October, Bob and I drove an old Ford pickup truck and camper to a spot twenty miles into the Nez Pierce National Forest in north central Idaho. We would often take our outfit up and park it down an old side road directly in front of a forest service iron gate
ten days prior to opening day. This ensured that we laid claim to that road and our favorite spot before the other locals and out of state hunters showed up. We hunted the same spot the same way with the same old camper for eleven years. After that time, we had memorized the entire area that we hunted. We knew how to sneak around and stalk and hide and get our four wheelers anywhere in our spot, and as a result, we never failed to bag at least one elk every year.
Our daily routine was to get up before daylight every day. I would walk down the old logging road behind our camp while Bob walked up the road and we would meet up eventually after about three miles, all the while being in touch with walkie talkies. Then we would go back to camp and load up my pickup truck and see if any of our friends had shot anything or needed help, and then back to our camp for an
evening hunt. Every night ended with Bob cooking us dinner and us sitting in the camper at the table, and we played cribbage, and we drank to access every day of our trip, and we would occasionally break up our routine with a trip to town to resupply and shower, and every now and then our fund would be interrupted by an obviously mentally handicapped elk that would wander into our sights. On the day of iron encounter, I was sitting in a little cutout on a bank of the
logging road waiting for Bob to come into the clearcut. Now, this cutout was like an alcove that gave me one hundred and eighty degree view of a clear cut in front of me. It was also a great hiding spot, and you would have to be directly in front of me to see me. As I waited for Bob, I started to hear something on the game trail above me. It was working its way down the trail that crossed the road fifty feet to my left. Now, I'd seen several deer and elk and bear from this spot, so
I assume that's what was coming toward me. I knew Bob would be entering the upper end of the clearcut soon and he might be able to see what I was hearing before I could. Our walkie talkies were specifically for hunting communication. They had a cord attached to an earpiece and a microphone. If you were careful, you could
communicate with someone else without anyone else hearing. I listened to the thing above me make its way down the trail, and I kid my radio and I whispered to Bob that there was something right above me, and I asked if he could see it. He responded that he could see something coming down the trail, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He said that it was shorter than a deer, and it was much darker. He guessed it must have been a small bear. We decided to
stay put so that we wouldn't spook the bear. And as I sat there waiting to see the bear emerge onto the road, I heard Bob say, Holy f He warned me not to move and to be ready to shoot if it discovered me. Well, ask him what the hell it was, and he responded with some very colorful language that didn't do anything but let me know that
it was definitely not a bear. As I listened to Bob in my ear, trying to reason what he was looking at, my eyes were fixed on a spot that I knew it would move onto the road, and when it came into view, I witnessed a goliath of a being step onto the road and rock my entire world. As my mind scrambled to reconcile what I was seeing, Bob was in my ear repeating over and over, it's crawling. It's just effing's crawling. Now it's stood up. It stood up.
Half of my mind was saying, well, don't worry, it's just a man, a big, hairy man, but the other half of my mind knew it was way too big for that to be true. Now, this thing took four steps diagonally away from me and disappeared over the opposite edge of the road, and it continued following the trail from Bob's vantage point. He could watch it for a long time as it made its way down through the
bottom of the clearcut and up the other side. When it was a good eight hundred yards away or so and halfway up the other side, I made my way over to Bob and we watched it move into the standing tw on the other side of the canyon. At some point we started walking back toward our camp. During the entire three mile walk, we never said a word. We got back and we started drinking, and after passing the bottle back and forth a few times, I finally addressed what we had seen Bob. Was that a bigfoot?
Bob nodded calmly, yes, he said. When the booze kicked in, we relived our encounter, and then we took stock of our arsenal, and we made the terrible decision to go back out with our four wheelers. When we arrived, we found that the ground was too hard to find any kind of footprints, but we were able to figure out that it was around eleven feet tall. Well, we were dumbfounded, and as we sat there, half drunk and talking about the height, we looked across the canyon and wondered if
this thing was actually real. I found the spot where it had entered the opposite tree line. I wonder to myself if I could continue to spend time in the woods after seeing a myth come to life with my own eyes. And at that moment, my eyes became fixed on a dark spot on the other side of the canyon. There was something odd about it, so I grabbed my binoculars and brought the spot into view. My Lord, it was the same creature. It was just standing there still as a tree and looking at us. Bob, I said,
that thing's looking right at us. Bob quickly took out his binoculars and found it too. My Lord, you're a big sob Bob said under his breath. We watched it turn and walked back into the trees, and it has been on my mind ever since that day. Bob and I never hunted in that spot again. We took our hunting more than one hundred miles away from there. We never used the old camper again and only did day hunts,
and we stayed in moti Els. In December of twenty and nineteen, I received word that Bob had passed away. During the twenty seven years that I knew him. He went and got old on me and I never noticed. This man was a huge part of my life, and I'm grateful I had my bigfoot encounter with him. Oh that's a great story. No violence, nothing like that. They just saw it walk across the road. I bet that was a scary encounter. But I'm sorry you lost your good buddy, your buddy Bob. But I'm glad you got
to experience that at that from a distance. I'm glad it didn't walk up on you and walk over you or step on you or something like that. That's a great story. I appreciate it. Thanks for sending it. Okay, here's another bigfoot story. That's what the writer says. I saw a whole family of them. One time I was fishing in a remote area. I was walking along a dirt road back to my truck and my dog was
barking behind me and stopping intermittently. I would coax him to go further each time, until at last he barked and turned around and ran back the other way toward camp. This made me think, oh, no, did he smell a predator? And right after that, as the sun had just gone over the horizon, I saw a few small figures in the corner of my eye. I thought they might be cougar cubs. I grabbed a pepsi out of my bag and I threw it at them in fear, hoping it
would drive them off. But that didn't work. I saw the two small figures fighting over the pepsi and grabbing it from each other like children. Well, this blew my mind. Then on the other side of the road, out of nowhere, appeared a larger bear or dog or an ape like creature. One on the immediate right of me was hooking shouldered, black figure with giant oval eyes of the color of a mountain dew bottle. It looked in my direction, but it didn't look at me. It looked more through me.
I walked in fear and astonishment right by it, and it looked away from me like I didn't exist. I later told my friend whose family fished there at that spot, and I thought I had seen a ghost. But he told me that they were bigfoot, that there were families of them there and they had all seen them too. She said she saw one running across a nearby field in the middle of the day, and they were told that these creatures lived under the orchard just up the hill.
There's absolutely no denying what I saw, and I have also been told of similar sightings by people not far downriver from where my encounter happened. The distinguishing features were the large green eyes and the long legs, and that they were hunched over. Now, this story is true, but I can't tell you where it happened. In my culture, it's not good to talk in detail about this sort of thing, otherwise folks might try to go and bother our bigfoot brothers. Well, that's probably a good idea. Don't
tell people where you have your encounters. You know, you can tell them what state, or even what part of a state, but you don't have to give exact locations because some of these bigfoot researchers are crazy. If they catch interest in one of these stories, they're liable to show up and force and get on private property. And I don't think we've ever shared an exact location. But I thought this was interesting. This person saw a whole
family of bigfoot. She threw a pepsi at them, and they have the color of their eyes where like a mountain dew can. That's pretty cool. I thought that was good. Thank you for sending the story. Okay, let's do one last little This is a short, little email, but it's really good. I live in south central Virginia, just a few miles from the North Carolina state line. On a sunny January day, I was sitting on my front porch soaking up the sunshine. In front of my house. There's
an open field bordered by two sides with trees. To my right in the woods, I heard what sounded like a large branch breaking. I turned to look and watched a dark manlike feature emerge. It was taller than a man. It's probably eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and no neck. Well. I sat there, dumbfounded, watching this thing and trying to get a better look at it, but seeming to know I was watching it, it stayed just out of few
a few yards in the tree line. I rushed inside to get my binoculars, hoping to get a better look, but when I came back outside again, it was gone. On another occasion, I saw a smaller version of the same figure standing closer to my house, but still just inside the tree line. I went inside and came back out with my binoculars again, and just like the other one,
it was gone. I scanned the woods with my binoculars and I did not see any sign of either figure, nor did I see any tree or plant formations that I could have mistaken for a person or an animal. It's over a year later and I have not seen any figures like that anywhere till this day. But each time I look into the woodline at my house, I wonder if something is out there, maybe looking right back at me. I would pass out. If I looked out my front yard into the we have woods right across
the it's a little ways away. If I saw something like that standing there, And then if I got the binoculars and I could actually see it, which she didn't say she saw it, but I would freak out. I'd call every friend. I man, come over here, look this bigfoot. I got one in the front yard. I'd be getting my phone out trying to take a picture. Maybe maybe I wouldn't remember it that. I don't know. I'm not really sure what I'm ever gonna do if I ever see a bigfoot, I might just pass out. I might
just pass out from fright or from amazement. I'm not sure. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do anyway. I appreciate the woman sending the no. It wasn't a woman. It was a man. He gives his name. He didn't say to use it, so I'm not gonna tell you what it is. But it is a man and it's a good story. This is a classic encounter with Bigfoot right there. You just heard it, all right. Thank you guys for joining me on this podcast. I appreciate it, and we will see you guys on the next one. Thanks a lot.