As a kid growing up in the sixties I was never really
intimidated by school, like most of the other students I knew. Some part of my spirit knew it was just a
transitional phase that would one day fade away to reveal what real life was
really all about. The cliques and social
posturing didn't impress or interest me at all, as I already sensed I wasn't
going to fit in well with any of them.
Likewise there was very little else school had to offer that I was
interested in...just the books. I was
there for the books pure &
simple.
On the weekends I would often take the bus downtown;
spending the morning in the public library and the afternoon scouring used book
stores. By the time I was a senior in
high school I had a pretty impressive library of my own at home. While a good many subjects held my interest,
I was especially fond of the paranormal; those things which "science"
rejected, and refused to investigate.
One book in particular really caught my imagination: "Abominable Snowmen: Legend come
to Life." by Ivan T. Sanderson. The author not only wrote about the Yeti of
the Himalayas, but went so far as to suggest there were
four different species of this creature, living on most of the planets
continents except Australia! I had no way of knowing it at the time, but
that book set in motion a series of choices I would make in my life that would
lead me to have several encounters with the Alaskan Sasquatch, or "Bigfoot"
as one unimaginative newspaper man from California famously named them.
Fast forward to the spring of 1975: after participating in
the southeast Asia war games [where the United Stated took second place;]
you could say I was ripe for some adventure of another kind, and followed my
soul to Alaska, making it my adopted home.
My objective and desire was to live a rustic wilderness lifestyle, out
in the boonies away from town, and people &
all their drama and noise. Traveling
with me was my new bride, who not only shared my desire to live in the
wilderness; she wanted to do it up in the Brooks range,
around the Arctic circle. Tough minded woman! We established ourselves in the town of Ketchikan,
bought a trailer sitting on a cliff out north of town, and began getting ready
for winter. Before long I found myself
gainfully employed on a local harbor tug boat; and times were good.
A couple years slipped away...and it suddenly dawns on me
that my dream of wilderness living is still on hold, and slipping away along
with the good times and easy money. That
flame of desire in me was building, I really didn't want to put it off another
year...but then there were three of us now, and my wife wasn't so keen about
moving into the woods with a 1 year old child.
I reminded her that humans have logged much more time living in
wilderness than they have in big cement cities...it's where we come from after
all, I just wanted to return. Once we
got to talking about it, we realized we both still wanted the same thing, and
began planning our "jumping off" date. Eighteen months later the plan came together
rather nicely: we divested ourselves of the Cliffside trailer, exchanging it
for a three room cabin, on a log raft, aka A Floathouse.
For the first few weeks we were essentially water
squatters as we were still trying to line up a place to put the floathouse. Got kicked out of Bar Harbor, the main
marina on the waterfront; so we moved across the narrows to Gravina Island and
tied up to a log storage raft...right under the airport flight path! A few weeks later a friend of mine who was
related to one of the board members of the local native corporation; secured me
an employment contract to provide public relations and security services up in
George Inlet. Almost halfway up the
inlet is a beautifully pristine little pocket in the shoreline called Gem Cove,
our new home in the wilderness fifteen nautical miles from Ketchikan.
The most unusual feature of this cove was the long, narrow,
tree covered island situated directly across the entrance; leaving just a
narrow, rock studded corridor one had to navigate to gain entrance to the cove. I had of course scouted the area beforehand
and thus was certain we could get the raft through the narrow entrance. The topography of the shoreline afforded but
a single optimal spot for the floathouse, on the north shoreline just across
from the narrow skookum chuck entrance.
We eased the raft in on the highest tide of the month; then coaxed it
into position. A few minutes later we
had two anchors set, and mooring lines tied to the shore. Four hours later with the outgoing tide
draining water from the cove, our little floathouse settled onto the beach
beneath us; not quite perfectly level, but close enough for us. As the sun began to lower in the sky I sat on
the back deck of the floathouse in a moment of reflection and satisfaction;
offering the universe a silent prayer of thanks that my lifelong dream of
living in the wilderness was now reality.
There is an unapproachable quality of life to living in the
wilderness, away from the trappings of humanity, and the difference is
immediately noticeable to the soul. You
wake to the sound of eagles calling, and perhaps some breeze in the treetops,
but not much more than that. The first
few weeks we were there it seemed we heard vocal objections to our presence
from the squirrels, ravens, and blue jays as well as the eagles; but after a
while they must have grown used to us because things quieted down. I made it a prime directive not to
hunt in the vicinity of the cove because getting to see Alaskan wildlife in
their native habitat was a big part of my reason for living here. Once used to our presence, the local denizens
of the forest returned to their regular routines, allowing us a glimpse every
now and then. Sometimes in the mornings
we'd see deer on the far shore, and a couple of times even wolves. That first summer we learned to our surprise
that the large stream feeding fresh water into the cove was indeed a salmon
stream! Now this was good because of
readily available salmon and not-so-good because the black bears also like easy
pickings. So, it wasn't too unusual to
see the occasional bear strolling the beach out in front of the floathouse on
it's way to or from the stream.
One of the nicest things about wilderness life is that once
you have accomplished the necessary daily chores of tending to your needs such
as firewood, water, meal preparation, and putting up preserves for winter;
there is still plenty of daylight remaining for other projects & pursuits. After dark it's all about family time,
reading, cribbage, music and finding ways to keep a 2 year old child
entertained & happy, (which is
tough anywhere!) Next day you get up
and do it all over again just like any lifestyle; except in the wilderness all
your effort benefits you, not some boss somewhere. You set your own rules and productivity
knowing that if you don't do it, it won't get done.
We'd lived in Gem Cove for just over a year before we
saw the first evidence of Sasquatch. A
friend of ours from town had come out to spend the weekend with us. Little Bear was a native Tlingit
woodcarver who a year before had carved me a massive chair from an old seasoned
tree trunk. He wanted to get in a deer
hunt so he could take some venison home to his family. We took my skiff up the coast a mile or so then
put ashore and headed uphill to a nearby ridge system. Near the top of the first ridge we came onto
a nice big muskeg meadow which was dotted here & there with small stands of
trees: perfect deer territory. We
hunkered down just inside the tree line and tried the deer call...nothing. After waiting a while longer we decided to skirt
the edges of the meadow, in opposite directions, but keeping each other in
plain sight.
Just a few minutes
into this strategy however, little bear whistles at me to get my
attention. When I looked over at him,
now about 30 yards distant, he calls out to me, "Hey come check this
out!" Being a tad miffed that
he'd just spooked any deer that may be around, I walked over to where he was
standing. As I drew near he just points
to the ground next to him saying "You ain't gonna believe this." There in the mushy muskeg carpet was two
different sets of what appeared to be human footprints...except they were
barefoot tracks, and very large. One set
was only just bigger than a normal human foot - but the other was
considerably larger. Not having camera
or tape measure with us we could only estimate the big prints to be some 16
inches long and about 6 to 7 inches wide.
We saw a long line of these footprints, where they entered from the tree
line and cut across the meadow towards a stand of trees. The large footprints left a 2 inch deep
impression in the muskeg, the smaller ones, about half that. In comparison our own footprints lasted mere
seconds before disappearing as the muskeg returned to it's normal state. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't get
the muskeg to hold our footprints, yet there was the trail of these giant
barefooted tracks! Suddenly feeling like
trespassers poaching on private lands, we agreed the hunt was done and headed
down to the boat. (In 2003 our experience this day was included in the book Raincoast Sasquatch by J. R. Alley)
Back at the floathouse Little Bear told us that his
people tell stories of Sasquatch encounters in southeast Alaska
as part of their tribal heritage. It
isn't a legend or mystery to them, but rather a known part of the natural
world. Our friend told us of hearing his
grandfather & the elders talk about them. One of the things he remembered was the
elders said when you hear the sound of tree knocking, (someone beating a
stick upon a tree), that Sasquatch is in the area. The elders also said that if respected and
left alone the Sasquatch generally afford the same courtesy to others. You find this same kind of respect among many
divergent native people, from the coast Salish tribes to the Lakota Sioux; all
regard Sasquatch as a great spirit of the woods.
It was a couple of weeks later when we were harvesting
blueberries, just up the hill behind the floathouse, when we saw a couple
things that smacked our curiosity a good one.
The blueberry 'bush' we were working was actually a massive entanglement
of many bushes which towered above our heads.
Up higher than we could reach we saw several branches which were
stripped bare of berries, leafs...everything.
Just bare naked branches. It
looked as if some big thing with prehensile lips had just stripped the branch
by pulling it thru its mouth; or maybe used it as a toothbrush! Immediately I began searching the ground for
any large footprints, but being dry and somewhat rocky the terrain wasn't
conducive to footprints. However my
search did come across something totally unexpected. A few feet away from the berry tangle, laying
on the ground was a little something left behind. The polite terms like droppings or scat
or even defecation just don't suffice in this case. I was looking at one magnificent turd. Very unlike what a bear might leave, it was
quite human-like in its appearance, except for the size and girth, which is
what made it so magnificent. The thing
was longer that my size 12 boot!!
Agreeing that we had enough berries for now mom and I with kid in tow
made a dignified retreat back to the beach.
Being that I've read about such creatures all my life I was
actually fairly excited in a happy way about seeing the footprints, and now the
magnificent turd! Being from west Texas
farm stock, my wife was somewhat less excited than me, and I think less
impressed as well. Like I said, tough
minded woman, who evidently does not rattle easily. It was a good thing she didn't rattle easily
because things were about to get kicked up a notch or three in short
order.
One of the home improvements I made to the cabin was a small
second floor balcony accessible from our loft bedroom. We enjoyed having dinner out on the balcony
many evenings, and sometimes would just sit out there talking into the wee
hours. About three weeks after the berry
incident we were out on the patio one evening admiring the star field above us. The mood was lighthearted and we were teasing
& kidding each other, just goofing
off mostly...when the still night air was pierced by a shrieking howl sounding
very much like amputation without anesthesia!
This ungodly sounding howl was a good distance off, maybe a couple miles
up the inlet and lasted nearly five or six seconds. We just kinda looked at each other for a long
second, then I decided comic relief was called for, so I asked my wife: "What
do ya think, should I answer back?" Before she could utter a word, something else
returned the same exact screeching howl from the ridge up behind our
cabin. It was so loud every hair on the
back of my neck bristled as we sprang into action. There was no need for words, we simply
retreated inside locking & barring the door
behind us. We didn't hear
anything else, but that didn't stop us from preparing ourselves and home for
the unknown. The unknown stayed away all
night. We know because we didn't sleep
that night, at all.
In the following days we came to discuss and re-assess our
choice of a wilderness lifestyle based on recent occurrences. I am certain sure part of my wife's persona
wanted to move back to town almost as much as the rest of her wanted to
stay. In the end, logic
prevailed. We'd lived in Gem Cove over a
year without any problems at all from Sasquatch (or any other creature)...why
would they wait this long to scare us off the land?
It was just that hearing the second howl so very close to
home kinda rattled us both a little. The
sound was primal in it's intensity and overpowering in it's sheer volume. I think hearing that every night, or even
every week would have run us out of that place, but the serenade was not
repeated and life in Gem Cove returned to normal, for a while anyway.
With summer fading and winter approaching I kept busy adding
to our firewood supply. A nice huge
driftwood log had come ashore just outside the cove so I grabbed it, towed it
home and began cutting it up on the back deck.
Having to stop to refill the chain saw, I decided to take a bit of a
break, let the saw cool off a bit, so I sat down to have myself a smoke. One thing that's the same as living anywhere
else is that when something changes in your day-to-day environment in the
woods; you tend to notice it. Enjoying
my break from work; my eyes just naturally began scanning the far shoreline of
the cove, and that was when I saw it.
Maybe 30 feet or so above the waterline a quarter mile away there was a
patch of black behind the tree line, motionless. Knowing this was not a normal part of
the landscape my interest was piqued immediately. Pulling the brim of my ball cap down to shade
my eyes, I could now make out a squat head on top of that patch of black. Binoculars were hanging just inside the back
door to the cabin, so I very casually got up to retrieve them. Binoculars in hand I used the edge of the
house to steady on and looked toward the black patch on the far shore. What I was seeing was very clearly a large
hairy black humanoid looking creature...from mid chest up, as it was standing
behind a bush. It was looking directly
at the floathouse, and me. Again the
bristling hairs on my neck, and that wilding sensation that accompanies the
thrill of discovery!
I wanted my wife to witness this so she wouldn't think me
totally off the deep end, and I repeatedly tried to yell at a whisper
for her to come outside, not wanting to scare the creature off before she could
see it. Finally she comes to the back
door, I gave her the field glasses and told her right where to look...as I
looked back myself just in time to see the thing turn away & disappear into the forest. When asked if she'd seen it my wife just said
she'd gotten the briefest of glimpses just as it disappeared. She thought it was a black bear. A wise man might have just left it at that,
but not being terribly wise I had to go over there and seek some kind of
evidence. Armed with a camera, tape
measure and a couple of guns; I took the skiff over to the far shore where I'd
seen Sasquatch. I was disappointed to
find no conclusive footprints in the hard ground, no hair samples, not even a
magnificent turd! My surprise
confirmation came when I went to check out the 'bush' sasquatch had stood
behind, finding it in fact was a tree measuring eight feet tall. Since the tree only came to mid-chest on the
creature, I feel safe in estimating his height to be a minimum of ten feet.
Something happens when you experience firsthand a thing or
event that common consensus excludes and ridicules. Whether you have yourself believed in it or
not doesn't really matter; because such an experience changes you fundamentally,
and you will never be the same person you were the day before the
experience. You can never un-see once
you have seen, you cannot un-know once you know, and the energy
which accompanies such peak experiences can be addicting or terrifying
depending on who you are. I am addicted,
having spent the majority of my life in search of having that feeling again,
and again. It never gets old.
A few days after my first Sasquatch sighting, an idea
occurred to me which seemed perfectly logical at the time; however my wife felt
otherwise. The salmon were still running
in the creek for another week or better, so I thought to offer some up to the
neighborhood sasquatch. The idea was
brilliant in it's simplicity; Fish-kabobs! I gathered three long poles from spare lumber
I had, & sharpened both ends. I impaled a couple fresh salmon on one end,
then sank the other end deep in the wet sand alongside the creek. When finished; each pole suspended it's fish
some eight feet above the beach, with the poles placed 15 feet apart. The eagles, bears, ravens, otters and such
all love fresh seafood, why should sasquatch be any different? I set the 3 poles up just prior to dusk, then
returned to the cabin a couple hundred yards away to await what the light of
day would reveal.
I wanted to go out and look right at sun up, but made myself
wait, knowing many animals feed at dawn &
dusk. After a quick breakfast and some
hot coffee I could resist no longer, and went to have a look at the poles. As the stream came into view I could see the
poles were all still standing, exactly as I'd left them, except there were no
fish, just empty poles. I know that
isn't concrete evidence that sasquatch took the fish; but a bear would have
knocked the poles over, as would a wolf or any other critter. To my knowledge eagles & ravens don't
hunt at night - but an owl might possibly have snatched a fish or two...but all
six fish?? Whatever took the fish managed
to do so without disturbing the pole much, if at all, so there's that
anyway!
I concluded that the
results of the experiment were interesting albeit inconclusive; and that they
warranted another try, so that very night at dusk, I offered up six more fresh
caught salmon on the poles exactly as the night before. The next morning I headed to the stream a
little earlier than the previous day, restless with anticipation. When I approached the stream I could
instantly see that all three poles were gone.
Closer inspection confirmed the poles weren't just down, but gone as in
totally missing. I searched the beach,
even the tree line, the poles were nowhere to be found. While I saw this development as something
positive, even interesting; my wife saw it quite another light. She conjectured that I had just armed the
sasquatch, and the missing poles represented some kind of threat or warning to
us. All I could offer in reply was that finding
the poles jammed into the beach in front of our house would be a warning or
threat, and to remind her we'd been here more than a year without any aggression
from the local sasquatch group. "But
why would they take the poles?" she asked defensively. Hoping to defuse the issue with positive
energy I said: "Maybe it's like that old proverb; 'if you give a man a
fish he eats for a day - if you teach him to fish, he feeds himself.' What if
the fish-kabobs gave old high-pockets the idea of spearing fish instead of
chasing them?"
Soon the salmon run was over, as was the summer, and as fall
descended upon us there was no further evidence or incidence of sasquatch near
the cove, and we busied ourselves with getting ready for winter. My job with the local native corporation
required me to patrol George Inlet
by boat a minimum of twice a week. What
with my curiosity & sense of adventure, a patrol could consume several
hours, so I always packed a lunch along with my usual gear. One afternoon I was on patrol about seven
miles up the inlet at Coon Cove and decided it was time for lunch. Just inside the cove I cut the outboard motor
and let the skiff drift as I ate. The
incoming tide carried my boat further into the large cove as I marveled at the
idyllic, pristine wilderness that was my office. Out here in the quiet places a man can think
without having to block out distractions.
There I was lost in thought soaking in all the raw beauty around me,
when movement on the beach caught my eye.
There on the beach about a hundred yards away I saw a black bear, looked
like he was turning over rocks for the small crab often found there.
As I turned in my seat to get a better look; my knee bumped
one of the oars, which in turn banged into the aluminum hull of the skiff with a
loud thump. Instantly the bear stood up
on it's hind legs, and turned towards me to see what made the noise, and my
heart jumped into my throat to realize the bear was in fact a sasquatch;
staring directly at me. It seemed like
longer, but in a few seconds the creature just casually turned and strode back
into the woods, disappearing from view. I
just sat there with what I'm sure must have been a stupefied look on my face as
the energies I'm addicted to coursed thru my body as they do with each peak
experience. I remember wondering if the
sasquatch was as curious as me. I could
imagine him gazing at me now from concealment, wondering what he thought of
me.
There is a kind of reverie which follows an encounter such
as the one I'd just had, and it enveloped me the whole trip back to the
cabin. Upon returning home I decided not
to share the experience with my wife just yet, simply didn't see what could be
gained from it as I already knew she didn't share my fascination with the
sasquatch and it didn't make any sense to give rise to needless fears. Unfortunately, that was the last time I was
to see the creature; in fact we continued to reside peacefully in Gem Cove
another three years without any sign or indication of them at all. But in the back of my mind I knew they were
there, if not close, then somewhere else, and once you know you can
never un-know.
Although there exist numerous accounts where the Yeti,
Bigfoot, or Sasquatch have displayed decidedly aggressive behavior toward us humans;
such was certainly not my experience.
The two creatures I saw seemed more curious than anything, but guardedly
so. I will never forget the face of the
sasquatch I saw with the binoculars, the eyes had a certain quality to them
which you don't see in wild animals...the lights are on and somebody's
home!! When the Tlingit people speak of
sasquatch it is with respect, because he is considered to have supernatural
powers like telepathy; and that you will only see them if they desire it.
Ever since Roger Patterson &
Bob Gimlin filmed a sasquatch near Bluff Creek California
back in 1967; people have taken to the back woods in hopes of finding the
legend. Some are true believers
who just want the same peak experience I spoke of, and to know. Others however, hunt the bigfoot with cameras
and guns, hoping to exploit the creature into fame and fortune, although they
probably wouldn't like that being done to them, they're just fine with hunting & killing a sasquatch. Lamentably, cable TV exploits these Duck Dynasty rejects with their own
series for the ever burgeoning "reality TV"
doctrine. For those who think such
filmed hunts are "real" I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but you're
being played like the saxophone on 'Bad to the Bone' because no
self-respecting sasquatch would go anywhere near such a circus of clowns. What really bothers me about this is that
such conduct of hunting down a rare unknown humanoid is even legal. It's sad, really to think that of those who
believe in the existence of sasquatch, some are more than willing to kill one
to prove it.
With humans behaving so
badly on these filmed bigfoot hunts is it any wonder there are accounts of
hostile and aggressive behavior? How
would any of us react if our home was invaded by armed & aggressive puny hairless apes? Isn't it enough that we've declared war on
nature, must we really also destroy those who have learned to live in harmony
with it? Recent video and still photos
coming out of Russia
of sasquatch and Yeti have renewed the public interest in the subject; which is
bound to inspire even more hunting expeditions to come. This is one of those times to remember the
sage advice; of being careful what you wish for, if you intend to
join such a hunt. First there's the
sheer size and power of sasquatch, who can throw a full 55
gallon barrel with no problem, then you have the very fact they go to extremes
to avoid humans, which is proof enough of a superior intellect.
"True Wealth
is Measured by What You Can Just Leave Be"
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