I was young, I had just turned thirteen when I realized what lurked in the woods just beyond my backyard. I was scared at first, but unlike some, my experience turned out differently.

Life in the Pacific Northwest back then came with legends and tales, and wouldn’t you know it, they are real! I would know, I have heard them, experienced them, and seen them too, and I was not alone!

Here is my story…

The Calawah River

Before Hollywood invaded the small town where I lived, before its version of vampires made it their home, Forks, Washington, was a quiet, yet beautiful and mysterious place to begin with.

It does rain here, a lot. Much of the year was shrouded in fog, mist, and clouds that kept the brilliant green Pacific Northwest rain forests glistening with dew and rain.

We lived on that property for nearly ten years. My dad had been hired as a fisherman off the Olympic Peninsula. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, which she loved. My little sister and I were homeschooled. We never regretted not going to a public school.

Laurel, my sister, was two years younger than I when we moved to Forks. I had spent my last birthday in Redding, California, one week before we moved. It was sad leaving my friends, but I knew we’d make new ones.

We rented a place just east of town, out near the Calawah River. My dad’s new boss had a large, beautiful home with several acres that he would rent to us at an unbelievable price, my mom mentioned. The property was backed by nothing but the forest and the river.

It was beautiful.

It did take a little while to get used to, however. In Redding, we lived in town, out in the Enterprise area. It was literally a large neighborhood with stores, shops, and fast-food chains just a brisk walk away.

Living in the woods, literally, was a stark difference that brought a bit of apprehension to Laurel and me, at least at first. It was beautiful, though, like I said, but it was different, for sure. Living outside a small town surrounded by such a forest as that took a while to get used to.

But, we did.

We moved in at the beginning of summer that year. By the time September came around, we had acclimated ourselves to the property and the forest that backed it. Laurel and I seemed more at ease.

As a matter of fact, we’d been hiking a lot with our mom through the woods to the river, at least once or twice a week. We grew familiar with many of the sounds of animals. We’d seen black bears, deer, and a ton of elk. Once we saw a cougar, that was scary, but awe-inspiring for sure.

What we did not expect was to experience something we knew nothing about until we’d moved there.

Bigfoot.

Night Sounds

School was starting. It was the beginning of September, and my mom, Laurel, and I were heading into town for a homeschool meet-and-greet. This was a time to meet other homeschooling families and kids, to get to know each other and make connections.

This was also my very first introduction to the idea of Bigfoot. Driving through town, you could see the shadowy figure on bumpers, shop signs, and even a large wooden carved statue outside one of the buildings we passed.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the new church we attended for the meetup, there were a couple of bumper stickers of this strangely shaped and oversized giant of the woods on cars.

The meetup was going well, Laurel had made a couple of new friends, and I did as well. The first girl I met was Elizabeth, but she liked to be called Beth. We were in the same grade, and we loved art, partiularly watercolor and collage.

That is when I asked her about the odd images and crazy looking statue I’d seen on the way into town. Her answer was surprising. That was Bigfoot she had said. I asked her what that was, and she provided a lengthy explanation of the creature.

I have to admit it all sounded like a fairytale of sorts, even a bit crazy. I’d never heard of such a thing, even living in Redding, California. The conversation never arose at the dinner table banter at home, ever.

But, Laurel and I made some good friends that day. Before we left, we exchanged phone numbers, and the moms made plans and set dates for outings so we could all get to know each other more. The day ended well.

That night, however, got a little weird, even a bit uncomfortable.

I was lying there in my bed, Laurel and I shared a room, but she was fast asleep at the time, when I heard it through the open window. It seemed to come from far away, but it was loud enough to hear clearly.

It was like a long howl of sorts. It started pretty high-pitched, then towards the end, as it tailed off, it seemed rather low and deep. I sat up in my bed, thinking it might just be a wolf. But something deep down inside said otherwise.

I’d heard enough howling of wolves through a few documentaries my mom had us watch for school to tell that this was different, very different.

It came again and again, and it seemed to grow louder. After the third one, I could tell it was getting closer to our property. I thought about waking Laurel, but I did not want to get in trouble if my mom and dad found out. It was a school night after all.

My mind, at that point, did not think about the Bigfoot thing I had just come to learn about. After a few minutes, the howling sound stopped. I tried to fight falling asleep, but I only lasted a few more minutes before my eyes shut, and I drifted off to dreamland.

Nape of the Neck

A couple of weeks passed, but I never said anything to anyone about the howls in the night. However, on our almost daily hikes around the property and deeper into the woods with my sister and mom, I kept my eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

The weird sounds came and went. Some nights it would last for five minutes or more. On other nights, it would last less than a minute. There were a few nights I heard nothing at all.

It was near the end of September when I saw something incredible.

We were settling into our daily routines of school and hiking over to the river. My mother loved watercolor painting. She would pack her supplies into her backpack and carry her easel under her arm.

Laurel and I would carry our lunches in our backpacks. Sometimes we would bring a book or our journals, but most of the time, we just brought curiosity. My dad came with us a couple of times, but he was leaving for a four-week fishing trip that Friday.

Thursday, it was just the three of us, my dad was busy packing. My mom loved the afternoons when the fog was thinner and moving fast over the river. It gave her a lot of inspiration for some really great paintings.

The fog, however, never lifted that day; actually, it seemed to grow thicker and darker. Even the forest seemed darker. It was beautiful, for sure, but for some reason, after all those howls, I found myself feeling a little apprehensive about hiking through it to the river.

Just before we came to the last bend that led to the open area along the river, the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end! I stopped for a moment; it was that feeling of being watched.

I couldn’t see very far, of course; the fog was as thick as my mom’s potato soup. As I turned to look back down the trail, I could barely see Laurel, which spooked me, and I ran to catch up to them.

We were there for nearly two hours before Mom started putting things away. Personally, I think the darker it became, even she felt a little uncomfortable, too.

We reached the edge of the treeline, where the open field and our house sat. Again, for a moment, the hairs on my neck shot up. I looked behind me, but could see nothing; it was pitch black in there by that point.

I found myself reaching into my backpack as I stared into the forest. I pulled out the two apples I had and set them in front of the last tree I passed. Again, I ran to catch up with Laurel and my mother.

Friday, we hugged my dad and watched him leave for his month-long fishing trip. My dad was a professional fisherman. His boat fished for crab and multiple types of other fish.

That night, there was no howling, just the silent fog and darkness outside my bedroom window.

But that would not last.

Saturday was a fun day. We decided to decorate the house a bit for fall, finally. I love autumn! I headed out to the edge of the field to gather some pine cones and leaves for a project my mom was working on.

The first strange thing I noticed, was that the apples were gone. Then I noticed It was eerily quiet. No squirrel chatter could be heard. No birds chirping. Not even a cricket making its music off in the shadows of the fir and pine trees.

I started getting that feeling again.

I stooped down to pick up a few leaves when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I stared in the direction, but all I could see were trees. Then, I saw something I did not recognize.

A very tall stump. I was getting very familiar with the trail and trees by that point, and I did not recall ever seeing a nearly nine-foot-tall stump between those two trees. I stared and stared at it.

I started feeling really uneasy, even a bit scared. I didn’t know if it were my eyes playing tricks in the fog and darkness, but this stump had a shape to it, a silhouette, if you will. It looked like a head sitting on shoulders with arms tucked in close.

After a few seconds of staring at this thing, I turned and ran for home. I didn’t tell my mom, but I did tell Laurel upstairs after dinner.

Chattering

Bedtime came, and before I could even open my book, Laurel was dead asleep. I started reading and was about a page and a half in when I started hearing something strange coming from outside.

This was a new sound, not the eerie howling.

The fog was all but gone, the moon was nearly full and just then rising above the trees. The whole field was rather bright; all but the inside of the forest could be seen from my window. I scanned left and right and all over the field. Near the edge of the forest, I saw movement and heard that strange sound again.

It was a chattering and mumbling. But for some reason, in my head, it seemed like a type of language. I saw them, two dark shadows walk with a strange stride and stop just on the edge of the field.

One of the silhouettes was tall, very tall. Its stature had to be two heads taller than my father, who stood six feet three inches. The other was much smaller, maybe a head taller than me. They were as still as statues after stepping out into the moonlight.

It was the smaller one that moved first. It took a couple of long and strange strides towards the house. Then it squatted down, doing something with its overly long arms on the ground.

After a few seconds, the larger one made a sort of grunting sound, and the little one stood up immediately and returned to its side.

In my mind, I knew what I was looking at: two Bigfoots. They definitely had the shape of a human; but they were bigger and wider, with long arms, and seemed to be covered in dark hair that flowed in the night breeze like sheets in the wind.

Two seconds later, they turned, and with those long, strange strides, disappeared into the forest and the cover of night.

The next morning, I was out in the field. To my surprise, I found three pinecones, each lying next to the other, neatly and uniformly.

I was shocked and overwhelmed.

I heard my mother calling for me. By the time I hit the porch, I was telling her all about the happenings of the night before, the apples, and what I found at the edge of the field just now.

The look on her face was one of bewilderment that turned to worry. After breakfast, I heard her talking on the phone with my dad and telling him about my discovery. The look on her face turned to concern by the time she hung up the phone.

My father was a good man, hard-working, followed the Lord, and was honest. He was also very protective of his ladies, which is what he called my mom, me, and Laurel. To him, this sighting of mine and the pinecone findings had him a bit worried as well.

Until he returned, he told my mother that Laurel and I were not to wander out past the field alone, and no hiking to the river without her, period. Before she hung up, there was mention of bears. My mom said she would call him that evening after she had time to look around for tracks and other signs of animals.

After dinner, as Laurel and I did the dishes, I could see my mom pacing back and forth along the edge of the field. Here and there, she’d stop and look intently at the ground around her. Then, for at least a minute or two, she stared into the forest.

That night, the howling started up again, only this time, I saw my mom on the porch below was listening as she drank her tea.

Lost Without You

After the first week of October, and to my mother’s relief, the howling stopped. However, I could still see the shadows darting about at night near the edges of the field and forest from time to time.

I did not tell my mom. She was finally feeling less anxious about the whole thing the week before. If it were a bear, she said a few nights later, it was probably far gone by now.

As she relaxed about it more and more, we began our hiking to the river with the okay from my dad. She was seriously missing her watercolor painting down by the river. The fog and rain, of course, were always the boss, but when it was not raining, we were hiking and painting.

It was getting closer to Halloween, and my dad had said he might be back earlier than expected. The fishing was much better than they all hoped. The howling had still disappeared, but one night I recall hearing a high-pitched whistle, twice actually.

It came, it went. Then nothing. No shadows appeared as the days and nights became darker, drearier, and sodden with rain and heavy fog. But boy! That rain and fog sure did something to the trees. I had never seen them so shiny and green!

It was two days before Halloween, and my mother wanted to finish a watercolor she had sketched out over the prior weekend. The hike was set for after school that Thursday afternoon.

I grabbed two extra apples to leave behind for the Bigfoots in case they were still around. Of course, Laurel brought an extra banana. She believed that if there really were Bigfoot around, they were part of the ape family. She picked that from a book at the local bookstore, she said.

We headed out towards the river, I think it was about 2 PM. I left the two apples on a small stump just inside the woods as we hit the trail. I wondered if they would be there when I got back, I asked myself.

The thought of them not being there when I returned suddenly brought about a bit of apprehension, so much so that I decided to run a bit to catch up to my mom and sister. I second-guessed myself about whether I should have left them; after all, what did I know about Bigfoots and their temperament?

We reached the river, and with the wide open space, my heart and mind finally relaxed a bit. I helped my mom get her easel ready, then headed over to read for a while.

The fog was relentless. Thicker than usual, but my mom said she loved it, and that it helped add a mysterious feel to her painting. Personally, I was feeling a bit less mysterious and more apprehensive again when I finally pulled my nose out of my book.

I had been reading for nearly two hours. Without the sprinkling of rain or the torrential downpours we were used to by then. You can lose time when you are enjoying something or just relaxing outdoors.

I decided to walk up and down the edge of the river, hopefully my mom would think I was bored and wrap it up soon. But no, she was lost in the moment too. Laurel was pretending to read; I could see her taking a nap.

After a few minutes after 4 PM, I had actually said something. Without realizing it, my mother had us out there near dark. The fog was even worse when looking into the forest. So bad, it looked pitch black in there. We packed things up in a hurry, then headed back down the trail towards home.

Just so you know, there are several trails in those woods, not to mention game trails.

We were just about out of the woods when my mother let out a gasp. I was a bit startled at first. I thought maybe she saw something like a wild animal or Bigfoot. Actually, it turned out to be more of an annoyed gasp. She’d left her paints on the rock she stood next to.

These were nice paints with a beautiful case in which they came; my dad spared no expense in getting them for her last Christmas. My mom turned, looked into the woods, then turned to us.

She was going to head back and get her paints, while we were told to head home or wait in the field for her. We chose the latter. We watched as she headed off into the fog and forest. It should have only taken her twenty minutes, but it didn’t.

Twenty-five minutes later, and Laurel and I were starting to worry. The fog became thicker, and now the sun was falling fast behind the thick vale of dark clouds above us. We could barely see the trees in front of us.

After another couple of minutes, we heard footsteps approach. We thought it was her, but to our near horror, we watched as the taller and shorter silhouettes of those Bigfoots step out from the trees and into our line of sight.

They were covered in brownish-colored hair. Their faces, from what we could tell, were covered as well, except a bit of dark colored skin around the forehead, mouth, and nose. They were massive in build, even the younger, smaller one.

Suddenly, the larger one started chattering. Then, like a phantom in a haunted house, the smaller one disappeared into the wall of trees in the direction of the river. Was it going to get my mom? Would it hurt her, or would it be worse?

I started tearing up, and so did Laurel. But we were frozen in fear, our bodies would not move, no matter what our minds were telling them to do. I was scared for my mother, and I was literally shaking in fear.

A couple of minutes passed when we would get the surprise of our lives, twice!

Without warning, I felt a large hand land on my shoulder. I could not turn out of fear. Then, my dad’s voice could be heard telling us to continue standing still. He came up beside us, rifle at the ready.

I whispered that Mom was in there, in the woods. His face became pale. I also told him that there are two of these things. He raised his rifle, pointing it right at the chest of the large creature.

Crashing footsteps, hurried footsteps, could suddenly be heard, not twenty yards south of the main trail. Out of the fog came my mother; she was out of breath and visibly shaken.

The other footsteps came from the smaller Bigfoot, who was now stepping in front of what I know now was his mother.

I put my hand on my dad’s rifle, and with the lightest of pressure, started lowering it. My mother slowly made her way over to us. Surprisingly, she said something that shocked us all.

She said “Thank you” as she stared at the Bigfoots.

They looked at us for a few more seconds, turned, and took those abnormally long strides, disappearing into the woods and fog.

Saved

My mom told her tale over dinner. She had taken the wrong trail. She got lost. Then, out of nowhere, she had seen a shadow that she thought was one of us.

She called out to it, but it never answered; it just kept heading in one direction, out of the woods.

The Bigfoot saved my mom from getting lost.

We never saw those two again, but as we grew older on that property, we heard the howls and the chatter in the night from time to time, all of us.

Today, I still live up and around the Olympic Peninsula. I will never leave this place. And, when I am out with my own children and husband camping or hiking around here, I always bring a couple of apples to leave behind, just…in…case.

That is my story, thanks,

Rachel.