Approximate year 2000: I can't really recall the exact year, but I'm thinking it was around ten years or so ago, I was about 15 or so. The town we lived in is a very, very backwater town... seriously; you are either a rancher, a logger, a miner, or a welfare recipient. There are of course a few doctors and lawyers and those that work in the schools and few various businesses in town. And because of the small size of the town there was nothing younger folks to do besides the typical outdoor stuff like hiking and camping. But teenagers can only do that sort of thing so long before getting bored.  

However there is a rather good sized town just right over the Canadian border no more then ten miles away, with a movie theater, fast food restaurants, and the feeling that you aren't in a redneck community like the one we called home. On this particular night of "the encounter" myself, my best friend, and his older brother were on our way back from this particular town. The road we were following runs along the Kettle River, we were heading north along the windy road. The river was on our right while on the left there was the base of the mountain range. The canyon is narrow, no more than about a mile at its widest and less the half at the narrowest.  

Since my best friend and I were not old enough to drive his brother packed the three of us into his standard Toyota truck for our night out in Canada. I was riding shotgun while my friend sat in the middle, his brother who was five years older then us and was visiting home from college was behind the wheel. We were speeding along the road, his brother had a bit of a lead foot, so we were clipping along at a rather rapid pace. We were just listening to music, while discussing things of no great importance... just chit-chatting the way boys do. During a period of silence, as we made our way parallel to the river, I was looking out the passenger seat window watching the full moon reflect off the river. My lunar observance was broken though by my friend's brother.  

"What the f**k is that?" he screamed while slamming on the brakes. I was wearing my seat belt, so the sudden deceleration caused my body to lurch forward rather rapidly and the centrifugal force caused my head to pivot so I was looking directly out the windshield. The truck fish tailed slightly, before the driver brought it to a complete stop in the middle of the road.

There, about forty yards down the pavement we saw a... thing. It was about seven feet tall and covered in dark brown fur. My first thought was "Whoa a grizzly bear." Even though this part of WA is not home to grizzlies, there were reports of them being spotted here and there, a hunter shot one about ten miles over the Canadian border a few years back. So for us this was a real teat. But this was no grizzly, it turned by pivoting at the waist and faced us (it was walking diagonally from the right side of the road and heading left). I could make out the features, it had a very human like face, not the muzzle of a bear, at yet it was vaguely ape like. It walked steadily and without breaking it's stride on two legs, I could see the five fingers, the opposable thumb, and the arms swaying back and forth as it moved. We sat there in silence for a few seconds as it moved.  

It finally reached the left side of the road and picked up its pace as it neared the base of the mountain and began jogging up the incline. Our driver gunned the engine and we darted towards it. There was about thirty feet of clearing before the tree thicket, and this creature made it across the gap and up the hill in what seemed like two seconds. The driver then hit the brakes again just as we reached the point where it stepped off the road and turned off the engine, and for some reason... god knows why... killed the lights. It was a summer night so the windows were rolled down and we could hear it running... not too stealthily through the woods away from us. We could hear what sounded like panting and grunting, like the way a large animal would do with excursion. We sat there listening in silence until the noise just stopped completely, whatever it was must have known we were listening for it and became still. 

"Smell that?" my friend sitting next to me asked.  "Yes." I said.

"Smells like s**t." The driver said. And it did, literally, it smell like fecal matter and an unwashed dirty person; very pungent and overpowering. "Dude lets get out of here," I remember saying. I was beginning to get paranoid and envisioned being ripped out of the car by some hairy beast. After about another minute of sitting the driver relented and started the engine and we drove off. When we got back to their parents house we related the story... none of them believed us of course. Their family all said we were imagining it, or it was a mistaken identity of a bear or something.  

That valley they lived in had many strange occurrences that were reported. I was staying at this same friend's house one night when the two of us and his dad witnessed a UFO in the sky. And many people say there is a correlation between both Bigfoot and UFOs however the UFO phenomenon we saw happened about two years later so we didn't think the two events were really related. 

To this day the three of us still tell this story, and whenever we get together for drinks we discuss it, and always clink our glasses together for our first beverage and say "To Bigfoot." We told several people at school about it the following Monday, including teachers and students. Some believed us, having stories of their own, while most didn't. 

Well in a nut shell that's my story, I do have another that I would like to share. It gives me the creeps. 

Like I said earlier, there isn't a whole lot of employment opportunity for high school kids in the area I grew up in. This particular summer some friends were working for one of the larger ranching families in the valley. We went to high school with this one rancher's kids and nephews. We spent the day bucking bails (Worst job in the world, in my opinion) on a hot summer day, when we were finished for the night; we sat around while the Mrs. of the house served us a good wholesome farm family meal. At the table I told of the incident that happened with me, my friend, and his brother which happened about two years previous. 

While I told the story, the rancher sat and listened intently. After I was finished he was the only one at the table who didn't tell me I was full of bull. His wife and kids said that he had a weird thing happen to him as well... of course none of them really believed him.

His story...
It was about five years before that evening we we all gathered for dinner. One of his cattle got killed by a cougar the night before and he wanted to dispose of the corpse hoping it would leave the area. He had a special place about a mile or two up a windy mountain road where he buried the bodies of slain animals, not wanting them to close to his home and attracting other scavengers and predators. The carcass was a rather large cow and was only partially eaten; he had to carry it up the windy mountain road with his tractor. 

While he was disposing of the carcass he had the weirdest feeling he was being watched and was attempting to finish the task quickly because of the hee bee jeebies he was feeling. Amid the hard work he decided to take a piss break and hopped down off the tractor and walked a few yards away to relieve himself, as he was doing so a rock about the size of a golf ball landed near him. He looked around frantically not seeing anything. He wanted get out of there as fast as he could but he had to finish the task at hand. Going against his instincts he continued to bury the cow. When he was finished he swung the tractor around to head home and again... a rock was thrown at him, this one actually hitting him in the shoulder and then the neck.  

He looked over from where the rocks trajectory came from and he saw what he first thought was a man dressed in a heavy coat. He was about to yell at him and ask why he as on his ranch and why the hell he thought it was OK to throw rocks at him and that he's lucky he didn't get shot (He has a 30-30 Winchester with him). But on further scrutiny he noticed it was not man at all. His description was dead on to the one I gave earlier, except that he said the fur was more red then brown. As fast as he could he drove away from the animal and down the winding road. 

The road snakes back and forth most of the way down the mountain leading back to his house, and the entire time he was driving he would see something following him through the woods as if it was chasing him out of the area. Every time he would come up on a turn it would be standing there about twenty feet off the road, beating him to the turn. It must have walked in a straight line down the mountain was his reasoning for it meeting him at each turn. He felt a sense of hostility coming from it. Finally when he reached a straight stretch he gunned it, looking back, not seeing it following him. He was relieved it didn't follow him... at least during the daylight.  

That night, he had to go out and do a few tasks before nightfall. Not wanting to because of his encounter earlier in the day, but knowing he had to (Such is a ranchers life). It was just before night fall, and he was just finishing his chores when his three dogs started going nuts and took off towards the field. They were gone for no more then about fifteen seconds when they returned very frightened and whimpering, one of them nearly knocked him down while trying to hide under his legs. He once again saw the thing, standing there about fifty yards away unmoving. He wasn't armed this time, and was so scared that he nearly wet himself he said. They stood there looking at one another for what he said seemed like an eternity before it lazily walked away and back towards the area he previously encountered it.

He didn't tell his wife about the encounter for some weeks, the only reason he did was because another rancher about ten miles away actually reported a sighting of his own. Even though she never really believed him, she says that he believed it, and when he told the story she could see he was genuinely afraid of what he experienced; that was the only reason she could have maybe, almost believed him... it was his sincerity. He was a tough ranch raised good old boy who hunted, farmed, fished, and camped all his life. He wasn't afraid of anything the wilderness could throw at him, but this scared him, and he's not afraid to admit that to this day.  

He will still not go up to that area alone, and if he absolutely has to he takes his dogs and a firearm with him. I have gone up there a few times, and the place just feels creepy. Maybe it's just because of his story and my own experience psyching me out, or maybe something is really there still... who knows?

So that's it, thank you for the site. I enjoy reading all the stories and tales from all the others around the world that you have posted up. I hope whoever reads this enjoyed mine. 

D. Gale
Monday, July 12, 2010 11:35 AM

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