Mt St Helens Bigfoot

listen to this story. My encounter had a massive impact on how I view the world and it's wonder In the early fall of twenty and thirteen, I was out on my property with my little jack Russell named Scoot. I live on thirteen acres of pines, of cedars and locust trees. It was around seven am, and I noticed that it was quiet, oddly quiet. Normally, Scoot acted like a Doberman in a small dog's body, wasn't afraid of anything. But as we were walking, he stopped dead in front

of me. His ears were back and his tail was tucked, and he began to shake violently. He had heard what I heard. It was a long, deep, menacing growl. Just off the trail to our right, I saw a large figure standing behind a tree. Now I began to feel sweat gathered down my back and Scoot started quietly backing up to my boots. It was not a large man, but I could tell he wasn't human, so my eyes focused more and I knew instantly what I was looking at.

I couldn't tell if it was facing me or not at first, but I decided to act as though I hadn't seen him, in the hopes of it moving on. I've been down slowly to Scoot, and I held him on his sides to comfort him. He was shaking so bad it felt like holding onto a washing machine. His eyes were down for all of five seconds. I could hear a slight leaf rustle, and I looked up quickly again. This creature had moved halfway between me and the tree that stood behind. He was slightly bent over and rocking

side to side. He was so close I could hear his deep, heavy breaths, almost like snoring. He had a huge, penetrating, dark brown eyes that were moving up and down from me to Scoot, who was shaking even worse than before. He had enormous arms and dinner plate hands, and his fingers were kind of wiggling. His thighs were as white as my waist. He had black hair all over apart from some places on his face and his mouth, which

was tightly shut as though he was upset. He had scars on his face and lines all over his chest, arms, and shoulders which were like basketballs. Though his hair looked matted and filthy. The smell wasn't what I heard. It was bad, like righting, but not overpowering. He raised his enormous right arm and grunted and motioned with his hand as if to say go not of nowhere. From the left came a gunshot that scared the hell out of me in Scoot. It didn't seem to be in our direction,

but it was close. The big guy looked in that direction with massive, bared yellow teeth and clenched hands like boulders. He motioned again, telling us to leave. I slowly picked up Scoot under my arms, and I stood up, and I turned around and gently walked away. I didn't look back, but I knew he was getting out of there too. He sounded like a tank crashing through the woods. Moments later, there was six or seven more shots, but I knew that this creature was gone, which was a massive relief.

I don't remember getting back to my truck, nor the feeling of being peed on by Scoot. I was sitting in my seat, staring out of the window, thinking about what just happened, and this was not real. It couldn't have been. It had to be a hoax. It had to be a big lie, a trick someone was playing on me. It was a weirdly confusing emotional experience. I drove back to my home without any thoughts of anything. The next morning, there were reports of poachers in the area.

They had been shooting at people, and one person had been shot in the leg by these poachers. A sudden wave of shock and realization came over me. The Big Guy was protecting me and my dog. I couldn't hold back my silent tears, and I lost the ability to speak. I had never felt so much emotion in my life. These poachers were eventually caught. It seemed my acres hadn't been walked by anyone in years, so maybe they thought

it was safe. Now I know differently. Since the day I met the Big Guy, I have left pink Lady apples, an interesting shaped rock, and I place two sticks on a cross in the place that we met. I know he appreciates the gifts because I have been gifted in returned with dead birds, squirrels and other interesting rocks and more sticks in different patterns. This encounter, which I cannot completely wrap my head around, has changed me. Now I

question everything, I recycle everything I can. If I'm out in the wooded areas, I take a bag and I pick up any garbage. I become more rational and I try to do my best for conservation. I encourage anyone to go out and enjoy the outdoors, and I have a whole new respect for the gift of life. Honestly, I thank God or evolution for putting me in scar, a fitting name for my woodland friend on this planet.

But I do hope they are never scientifically discovered, because they will be put through hell in the name of research. He and the rest of his kind need to be left at peace to enjoy what's left of this crumbling world. He does not need humans taking over his way of life and destroying his species. Amazing, incredible, and devastatingly beautiful. That's the only way I can describe him. Let's keep him mysterious and leave him alone to be who he is now. I've never told this to anyone and I

do not intend to after this. This was my en counter, and it was mine alone. He came to me, and I to him, and it is for us to remember and treasure. Keep up with the good stories. Friend. And he signs off, and he wants to be anonymous, and I could almost hear him telling it in his British accent. This guy really made a pack with Bigfoot, a bigfoot

in the UK, and apparently he owns some lie. I've never heard a poacher shooting at people, but I guess you know, sometimes the things you read about in fiction are something someone's done. Not saying this is fiction, I'm just saying some of the weird things that you read about in fictional novels and short stories are things that the writers have heard people do. And so this kind of gave me an idea for a Steve Lily story. Poacher shooting at people. I don't know how could I

twist that into a really good Steve Lily story. Anyway, I'm just rambling. Thank you for the story, sir, I certainly do appreciate it. I can tell you it's a man. It's not a woman. It's a man. All right, Let's go to another story. Thank you sir for the story. Hey y'all, thanks for clicking on the video. I appreciate it. Happy Fourth of July. I hope you're having a good day, eating some good food, some good ribs, hamburgers, barbecue, whatever y'all like to eat on the fourth. I hope you

get plenty of liquids, beer, water. Beer doesn't hydrate you, but water does. Gatorade kind of does. Those are my health tips for the day. You're welcome, But I hope you're getting plenty of liquids because it is kind of hot. But we've got beautiful weather, looks like across the whole country. I just hope you guys are having a great day. Here is a podcast for the fourth of July. Nothing in it relates to the fourth of July. Just happens to be when I'm posting this video. All right, here

we go. This is a story of a woman's granddad. It's titled The Ghost of Granddad, and I'm reading it cold. Let's see what goes on with the ghost of Grandad. It looks good. Our granddad died the day the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up January twenty eighth, nineteen eighty six. I remember, I remember that day. He died at home on his way out to feed his hogs, just a few minutes after the spaceship exploded, and I've always thought

of him leading the astronauts home. Over one hundred people showed up to my grandma's house the evening of the viewing, which was held in town, and over three hundred showed up to his funeral two hours before the funeral home closed for the evening. Our parents left to stand in the family line and listen to stories from people who had known Granddad for years. Before they left, they asked my brother and me to stay at Grandma's to answer

the phone and give directions if anyone needed them. Grandma had a gunshot house. We call him shotgun houses. A gunshot house, I know exactly what she's talking about, meaning you could stand at the back door and she'd a gone down the hall and the lead would pass through the front door. The bedrooms are on the side in the bathroom, which was only added in nineteen sixty three, was added onto what was the laundry room at the back of the house. Well, my brother and I had

never stayed in that house by ourselves. It had dark walls, and a dark ceiling and a dark floor. Even the kitchen was dark. The ceiling lights were dim too. We started wandering from room to room and talking about Granddad and Grandma, and then we settled into the living room and we turned on the TV with the volume on low because the house was so dark. We had every light on inside from the back porch all the way up to the front porch. And as we were sitting there,

a light flickered and went out. Well, I got up and replaced it, and when another light flickered and went out, I replaced it too. A strong breeze swept through the house all the way from the back to the front, and then one after the other, every light started to go out. My brother was terrified of the dark, even at twenty one years old. Now we're fifty nine and sixty now, and he still got a night light on the side of his bed and a lamp in the

living room where he goes to sleep at night. My brother Baba yelled, and I fumbled my way through the dark to find him until he grabbed onto my arm and we stumbled out the back door and jumped into Dad's truck. There was no moon that night, and it was blacker than black, and I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I was the big sister, and big girls don't cry. I drove us to the funeral home, and as soon as we got there, my brother bolted into the building and I found him stuck to my mother's side,

still shaking. Meanwhile, I went to look at Grandad one last time. Cam you aren't supposed to swear, but right in front of me, with my own eyes, plain as day, I saw my Granddaddy it rise up out of his body in that casket, and that old man was laughing like he had just played the biggest prank on me. And I told him that I loved him, and I ran outside and I spent the remaining time on the side porch of the funeral home. Old men and their pranks. What can you do? Oh, that was a good story.

It's kind of scary, you know. Grandpa probably his if his spirit did that, he probably shouldn't have done that. I don't know what else to say about this, but oh my gosh, i'd rather you know him, come talk to me and tell me he loved me and thought I was a good kid. But instead he's scared. He scared his grandkids. Wow, that was a good story. It was kind of heartwarming in a way, kind of scary in a way, but I enjoyed it. Thank you Denise for the email. That was such a good story. Thanks

all right, here's a Bigfoot story. Bigfoot story from Butch. Although I have not knowingly seen a Bigfoot, I have been near them. I'm in my mid sixties and I've always lived in Washington State. This is like Bigfoot Central Station. And I've always been more curious about the unknown than fearful of it. In the mid nineteen sixties, I overheard my dad talking to his brother about Bigfoot. After he

hung up the phone, I asked about the subject. He picked up the latest or Argasy magazine and he told me to read it, and there was an article reprinted in it about some gold miners. In the nineteen thirties, some prospectors found gold in a canyon against the southern side of Mount Saint Helen's. They found it up on a shelf of a very steep canyon with more shelves above them. They hit the mother load up there. They built a sturdy cabin over the mine entrance and they

stayed for a few months. The miners noticed the apes soon after arriving, but they were more concerned with their gold fever, so the apes were left alone, and over time the creatures came closer and closer as the weather was cooling for the coming winter. One of the men went to relieve himself one morning, and as he stepped out, he saw a bigfoot standing a few feet away. Well. The apes stared at him curiously, and the man reached into the cabin door for a rifle they kept for bears.

When he swung back around, the ape was already walking away toward the cliff. The man shot it in the back and saw the dust fly off of it in the impact. Later they all went out and found blood, but they didn't find the body. They looked over the cliff and they saw nothing. The other men were not happy with the shooter. They told him that the bigfoot were harmless unless they were harmed. That night was a sleepless one. The apes threw large boulders from above all

night long. The men hid in the mind for fear of their cabin collapsing on them. Come son up. The bride stopped when they went outside and found large boulders and footprints everywhere. The cabin had withstood the attack, but just barely. They packed up the gold and got out of Dodds and the canyon was now named Ape Canyon. Now two of these guys were father and son, who later moved to a small town called Cougar near Mount Saint Helen's. Needless to say, after reading this article, I

was gong ho about these creatures. Dad was happy too. Now he had a young, eager assistant. Dad wanted to shoot one. He was told that the government denies their existence, though it's against the law to kill one. Thankfully, he never did bag one. I doubt he could have packed it out anyway. Dad bought a camping tree and the family started camping around the area south of Mount Saint Helen's On most warm weekends. We often heard the sounds

of tree knocking. We heard whoops and chest thumping, which we later associated with bigfoot. At night, I often got the sense that we were surrounded and being watched. The family never talked about it. I believe Dad did not want to scare my mom and my younger siblings. On weekends when the family was not open to camping, Dad and I would drive near the mountain for the day, and on one of those trips we went to the

town of Cougar. At the store, he asked about any old time gold prospectors in the area, and we were directed to an elderly gentleman who lived nearby in a cabin he built years before. The store clerk told us that the old man had been in the area since the turn of the century and he had been hunting for gold. The cabin was built well and had obviously been there for daydes When he answered the door and came out, I felt like we had stepped back about

a century. The old boy looked like a character out of an old Western but this guy was the real deal, and he was friendly and curious about us, and he seemed glad for our company. And when Dad asked the man about his opinion of Bigfoot, the man lit up like a Christmas tree. He told us that he'd seen them often and not felt threatened by them at all. The natives in the area had told him that before the white man had arrived in great numbers, the natives

had traded with the creatures. He said they were very smart, but they just wanted to be left alone. He asked us if we had ever heard the tree knocking. Well, we sure had, We told him, and he said that the apes used that as a form of communication, that if they were around and we knocked a branch against a tree, they'd answer with the same knock pattern, which later proved to be true. He asked us if we knew about Ape Canyon and that incident, and we told

him that we did. He told us that two of the men of that group were alive and they lived nearby, and they were father and son. We got directions from him, and we thanked him and we took our leave. He encouraged us to stop by again. When we came back some months later, we found that he had passed away. I hope he's walking those streets of gold in heaven. The father and son prospectors were also friendly, and we're glad to retell their stories. They showed us some of

the gold nuggets they took out of Ape Canyon. They had not gone back to their claim, but they still lived on their portion of the gold. We were there for a couple of hours and fascinated by the adventures that they told us about that they had lived, and I felt privileged to meet history well. Dad became an

avid bigfoot hunter life long before it was cool. Around two thousand and five, one of Dad's bigfoot buddies drove him to an area north of the Columbia River in the Cascades where he knew a family of bigfoot lived. The men sat on a hill above the clearing, hidden in the shadows of the trees, and they used field glasses to view the area below. They saw some movement in a grassy clearing, but what they saw was something

harder to believe than a bigfoot. Now. Dad had not told me the story until recently, and I happened to mention that the natives of North America talk of a breed of dog that lives in the mountains of our continent. It is mute, and it looks just like the Hyaenas of Africa. Dad then told me that he saw some and related the story of that adventure. He also told me of an earlier solo trip he made in the nearby area where power lines go through steep and wide canyons.

The ground under the line was cleared of undergrowth. He was under some trees about a half mile opposite the lines when he saw a man in a brownish tan coat climbing the hill under the power lines. It only took this man ten minutes to climb to the top from the bottom. As Dad watched, he realized that it would take him more than thirty minutes to do the same thing. He looked again at the man and he saw that it was no jacket at all that he

had on. It was fur and by the time he realized what he was looking at, the creature had disappeared over the hill. My dad when he was a kid his neighbors were firewatchers after World War II in Oregon State. They were stationed at a lookout fire tower near the Three Sisters. There was another mountain about three quarters of a mile away. At the top of this mountain was a bare rock. One day they observed movement on and

around the rocky top. It looked like bears playing grab ass, but through them byers that became obvious they were not bears at all. They were monkeys, large cub monkeys. Well, they called the ranger station to report this. Later they were called back and were told not to put this incident in writing, nor speak of it again if they wanted to keep their jobs and their credibility. Apparently they let it slip because my dad overheard them talking about

it and it got him fascinated by the subject. Now, over the many years of camping in different areas of this state, I've often heard the strange but familiar sounds of these creatures calling to one another, and the stillness of the other animals that go along with that. On multiple occasions we had pebbles thrown at our tents at night by playful apes, but most of the time I kept it to myself. Thirteen years ago, my brother and I went up to the Northern Cascades near Canada to

camp near the Cascade Crest Trail. We hiked up the trail by day and we returned to camp at night. The campground is near the loudest waterfall I've ever been to. We brought our gear and our goods and large plastic bins, two of which we pushed against the inside back of the tent. Now, during all three nights that we camped there, in the middle of the night, a large hen pushed

those bins over onto us in the tent. Each time this happened, I woke up quickly enough to see the five large fingertips through the nih line tent that hen was twice the size of my own. But what I pictured were teenage apes out playing pranks trying to hold back his laughter. I did not since any danger during those episodes, but I would yell stop it each time so it would be satisfied that it had given us a scare. And my brother believed a raccoon was to blame,

and I just left it at that. I believe there are many varieties of these creatures around the world and North America in Washington State. I've not felt threatened yet. And he goes on to say, he says, you're a good narrator. Obviously you are not naives since you haven't open mind and heart, So keep confusing the doubters with the truth. We dig, We dig listening to what you were born to do. Oh, thank you for that much. I appreciate it, and thanks for inspiring me to write

this down. You're welcome, and I'm glad I finally got to it. I've had this story for a long time, maybe a couple of years, and I'm just now getting to it. Guys, I still have I still have probably a thousand or twelve hundred stories that I haven't even edited opened up. I just hadn't had time to do them all. But now that I'm doing this for a full time, I'm going to be getting getting to them faster. And I thought this was a great series of stories.

The man and his father had similar interests. They've both had have had experiences, and that story about the Mount Saint Helen's pack of Bigfoots that live there. There's all kinds of stories around Mount Saint Helen's, but I think this eight Canyon story. I've never read it or heard it, but I hear people talk about it. Maybe that is the story people are talking about. And then when Mount Saint Helen's blue, I guess that was back in the

late seventies or eighties. Supposedly a bunch of those bigfoots were killed in in the volcano eruption. But a lot of cool stuff going on around Mount Saint Helen's even today. I'd love to see that area. It's supposed to be beautiful and beginning to grow back and looking more natural. It was pretty devastated after that volcano erupted. But anyway, but thanks for the story. I really appreciate it. It was so good. Good to hear from you. Thank you.

Here's a bigfoot story from Eric. I'm currently getting a master's degree in environmental geology, and I spend a lot of my free time camping, hiking, traveling, and spending time in the woods. My experience happened back in the summer of twenty eighteen. I was traveling from South Dakota to Massachusetts by myself and was trying to camp in as many remote areas as I could along the way. It was my second or third night of the trip and

I was in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I was going to camp along the shoreline of the Great Lakes, but the camp site that was on my Google Maps seemed a little overcrowded and didn't have much for hiking, so instead I decided to go further north into the woods in search of a better spot. I was a little lost and I had no cell phone reception, but I came across a small campsite along a river. I set up my hammock and I lay out in the opening in the sun. I was the only person in

this campground, and initially I really enjoyed the solitude. After resting in the sun, for a while, I heard what I assumed to be a moose violently crashing through the woods. Eighty yards away, I saw a flash of brown, and though I wasn't yet afreight or uneasy, the noise did startle me. I started to walk up along the river

because there were no official trails. Being someone interested in ecology and plant life, I was moving rather slow and spending a lot of time investigating the ground around me. After an hour of moving up the river, I noticed to my left an old logging road that was no longer being used, and I stepped out into the opening, and with the setting sun shining down, my shadow was extended a great distance, and I decided to take a

couple of pictures. To my right were forty yards of trees between me and the river bank, and right in that area I heard a giant crash from the top of the canopy to the ground, and a large stud from an object hitting the forest floor. Then came an

odd sounding bird call. That's when I started to feel uneasy, But being twenty five years old and considering myself in pretty good shape, I grabbed a large stick and I went to investigate the area for a few minutes before, my gut told me that it was time to leave. The sun was getting low and I didn't have a flashlight, so I started walking back. Ten minutes later, the strange bird call sounded again, only this time it sounded as if whatever made the call was making it directly at me.

I rushed back to my hammit without any further incident, and by the time I got settled in it was dark. There was a slight breeze, but nothing too wild. But as I lay listening to the woods, a tree right across the river from me fell violently to the ground. I did notice beeaver activity in the area, but I thought it strange based on my previous experiences that a tree would fall so close just across the water from me. Somehow it felt intentional. I did manage to sleep, and

I left in the morning with no further incident. It wasn't until my car ride the following day that I really began to process my experience and just how strange it was. I don't have an explanation, but I do wish I had investigated it more. During my undergrad years, I was a double major in geology and anthropology, and

I studied human evolution. If I were to take a guess if a bigfoot like creature did exist, I would think it would be some type of hominem creature that diverged somewhere on the human evolutionary story, which we already know is incredibly complex for us, or also a terrible place for preserving fossils. And in my opinion, there is a chance, however, slight, that an intelligent cousin of ours has survived hidden in the remote forests of the planet.

I would love one day to actually spot Bigfoot in my travels, but until that day, I'm going to remain a dreamer. Oh Eric, that's my thing too. I'm a dreamer. I've never seen a bigfoot, never really on my own seen any evidence of bigfoot. I've been with other people and have seen a little questionable stuff. These same people have put up videos that is really quite convincing stuff or very persuasive in tracks and all which wouldn't normally be persuasive to me. But I know these people. I

know they're honest. They're just good people there. It's just not in their DNA to makeup stuff. So I'm a dreamer too, and I can see where these sounds and things would make you think, make your thoughts go toward this creature, especially probably hearing some stories and watching some documentaries or videos on this and there are hundreds of them, hundreds of them. I'm talking about documentaries and movies and fictional movies for entertainment makes people think toward the Bigfoot. Answer.

I don't know. I don't know. That's kind of Do you think we're subconsciously kind of leaning toward that when we hear noises in the woods. I don't know, maybe, maybe not, what do I know? But it was a great story, buddy, appreciate you sending it. Thank you, Thank you for listening to this podcast. If you thought it was any good, maybe you could reach down there and click that thumbs up button, or you could click that

subscribe button. That would help me in the algorithm. And heck, if you're ever so inclined, leave a comment, leave a nice comment. If you didn't like it, you know, if you don't have anything nice, don't say anything. But I'll tell you this, this is the nicest group of people we'll ever see on the internet. Just read through the comments. People are so nice. So thanks for listening to the podcast and we'll see on the next