Sometimes, you need to get out of Dodge, and quickly. It was early September, and between my family and our recent loss, well, I needed a break before all the big decisions had to be made, but I never thought in a million years that by running away I’d run into a legend!

Life can throw you a curveball here and there, I know that. However, when you least expect it, it can also throw you a wicked knuckleball, too. I got both, one I could see coming, and the one I never imagined I’d see.

Here is my story…

Bye, Mom.

When this all took place, my mother had just passed away. My father passed away seven years before her. I was the youngest of five children; the next youngest was ten years older than I. My parents were surprised by such a late-in-life pregnancy, but they loved us all, especially my mom; I was her baby after all, and sometimes she’d let the others know that.

We all get along very well. I love my family, and they love me, but when my mom died, it brought about a bit of a rough period for us. Everyone has their own ideas of how certain things should be done.

The last wishes and the Legal Will were not what caused the issue; what caused all of this was strong-willed children. Each had their ideas about every little aspect of the burial, the celebration of life gathering, and everything in between.

My three sisters were meticulous planners, but my brother and I were a little more flexible and easygoing. We wanted something simple, low-key, nothing over the top. My sisters, on the other hand, well, they knew the standing my folks had in the city for decades and wanted a little more pomp and circumstance.

For two days, the disagreements had turned into heated debates. So much so, the second day, while choosing what the headstone should say, my oldest sister and my brother’s disagreement almost turned into a shouting match. My brother-in-law, who was more like his brother-in-laws, calmed everyone down.

Unfortunately for me, my mom and dad put me in charge of everything, including seeing that the will was completed correctly. I think there was a bit of jealousy starting to pop its ugly head up at that time, something we as brothers and sisters never really felt before.

By the third day, I was done. By mid-afternoon, the shouting started, and I could not get anyone to settle down. They were all starting to act like teenagers whose phones and video games were taken away. That is when I slipped out the front door, got in my truck, and headed for the hills.

I had the weekend to make the final decisions on things, which would be whatever they wanted to do, but none of them could agree on a simple piece of scripture on a headstone, for crying out loud!

I stopped by my house, grabbed my sleeping bag, some food, the ice chest filled with ice, and a six-pack of Rainier Beer, then headed in the direction of the majestic mountain the beer was named after. It took them a couple of hours of bickering and arguing before they even noticed that little brother was gone.

I just needed to get away. I barely had time to swallow the fact that my mom was gone before the arguments began. What a shame, I thought.

Just a Creek

I do not recall the name of the creek, but I fly-fished it once in a while. Fall had just started, and the rains had come as usual to this part of the Pacific Northwest. So, the creek was flowing fast. The gurgling of the water and the sound of it rushing over the rocks could be heard from fifty yards away. I was located about one hour east of Tacoma, give or take.

I knew the place, the campgrounds, if that is what you want to call them. There were no showers, just a picnic table, fire pit, and bathrooms that were, kindly put, fancy-looking outhouses.

I was not there to fly fish or enjoy the great outdoors as I usually did. Simply put, I wanted some peace, to take in this new life without both my parents around. I was only twenty-five years old, barely out of college, and wondering what to do with my life; I was always second-guessing myself. Now, I had no parents to confide in or seek direction from.

I opened the canopy hatch on the truck and got my bed ready for the night. My cell phone finally rang, but I let it go to voicemail. I started a fire, made some mac and cheese, and turned on my mom and dad’s favorite band, Fleetwood Mac.

I kept it low, the fire too. I did not want a bunch of noise; I had left that behind for a reason. Noise, that word hit me for a moment as I noticed no birds were chirping or the symphony of insects.

It was dead silent

That was odd, I thought.

It Became Bigfooty

I never really believed in such things as Bigfoot. Yes, I’d heard the tales like any young Pacific Northwesterner, and a personal account from a friend once, but I shrugged them off as most do. I love the woods, and I wanted nothing to ruin my favorite place to escape to.

I started hiking by myself, and occasionally with a friend or two, when I was seventeen. Eventually, the fun evolved into a passion for hiking, fishing, and camping. Being outdoors so often, I was accustomed to the sounds of the forest, and when there was none, as in that moment, I was alert to any movement.

I’ve been close to a mountain lion. I have had a pretty big black bear walk right in front of me, not fifteen yards, give or take. I even once had a wolf pass through my camp in the middle of the night; its eyes shone red when the campfire reflected off them.

I can tell you that the hairs on my neck were not yet raised, I was not nervous or anxious, only alert to what might be passing by. The place I was camping was an hour east of Tacoma, Washington. It was a favorite haunt of mine with thick forest, a beautiful, clean creek near the campsite, and tons of berries for the taking.

As the sounds of the forest returned slowly, I heard nothing move off and away from camp. There was silence for a few minutes, then the choir of wind, trees, crickets, and even some early evening bird chirping joined in with the relaxing sound of my campfire.

I decided to add another log or two to the fire just to let the animal nearby know that a human was around. The alertness dissipated, and my mind, unfortunately, floated back to the reason I was out there in the woods in the first place.

The sun disappeared, and the woods grew dark.

Shadows and More Shadows

Night came, and so did a couple of campers. A man and a woman showed up just after dark and set up camp about five or six sites down from mine, where the creek flows closest to the campground.

All was quiet by nine or so, all except my mind, that is. I was relaxing by the fire, snacking on some trail mix, when I noticed the crickets suddenly fell silent a second time. Only the crackling of my fire could be heard. Again, I was not freaked out or suddenly fearful. I was alert.

This time came the sound of movement off in the trees between the popping and crackling of the fire. It was a step, not a shuffle, that I was sure of. It was as if someone or something took a step to the left and then stood still.

By this point, the nervousness started to take hold of me, as my heart began to beat a bit faster. I stood up, listening closely, but no sound came for what seemed a minute or so. Then, like an elephant crashing through the Serengeti, whatever it was started walking off through the brush toward the creek and away from my campsite.

It was thunderous as it moved through the forest. I swear the branches that cracked came from branches sticking out of trees, and not being cracked underfoot, but being ripped off the tree itself. It was so loud that my new neighbors came over with flashlights in hand, asking me if I had heard it too.

All three of us stood around my fire talking about it for a few minutes. Sharon and Trot, those were their names, thought it might have been a grizzly or, Trot mentioned, a Bigfoot! Neither was possible in my mind because there were no grizzly bears in that part of the state, nor did I believe in Bigfoot, at least not yet.

The crashing through the forest never returned, and after offering them a beer and sitting and chatting for about an hour, Sharon and Trot headed back to their site to turn in for the night.

I slipped back into thoughts of Mom and Dad, and of course, the craziness I was going to face when I returned home. Occasionally, my flip phone would buzz, but I only ignored it. Finally, around midnight, I added some logs to the fire and hit the sack in the back of my truck.

I thought I had been sleeping for hours when I found myself awake and wondering what was going on. I had turned over to get comfortable, as one does throughout the night, when I noticed a flash of light and shadow between my truck and the campfire.

The light was the fire, but something large passed between it and where I was sleeping. I thought it was just me being a bit groggy, but then it happened again. It was a large shadow that, to my disbelief, had the shape of a large person! This time it was on the opposite side of the fire, and I could see the shape and stature of this, well, person.

It was tall and moved as fast as fog blowing across a mountain lake in a storm. I was becoming more than alert. For some reason, the feeling of self-preservation was a main concern. I reached over for my flashlight and my gun.

Slowly, I opened the shell window, then I lowered the tailgate. I did not wish to scare whoever it was; I just wanted to make sure I was in no danger. I crawled out onto my feet and stood as still as this person who was still standing in the trees.

The hairs on my neck stood on end when I saw how massive this figure was. I realized this was no person—the stature, the arms, and the brilliant green eyes told me this could not have been human!

Was I looking at a Bigfoot? That was the only thing that came to mind at that moment. I had a friend once who swore he’d seen one while hunting. He was on a ridge just above a meadow out near Mt. Adams on a friend’s property.

He was watching for deer when he saw it. A large dark human-like shape came out of the tree line, not far, but just past the edges of it. He pulled his scope to his eye and almost screamed, he said. It was massive, at least nine feet tall, covered in milk chocolate-colored hair.

He described everything I was seeing at this moment, except he had a pretty clear view through that scope. He even saw the thing walking, and how it moved seemed almost phantom-like. It came out of the trees, stood for a second, then darted off into the trees again about twenty yards further down.

Something told me that the Bigfoot he saw was exactly what I was seeing at this moment, minus the colorful description. All I could see was a massive shadow of something about the same height, and as wide as a barrel in the chest. Its arms seemed unmistakably long, maybe just past the knees, as that is where the shadows of them ended.

It stood as still as I could—at least I was hoping it could not tell I was shaking quite a bit. I left the safety on my gun on for the basic reason that I do not shoot unless I have to. I left my flashlight off.

It was not a few seconds later that I almost screamed as I heard something approach me quickly from the right. It was Trot!

Then, it happened. That Bigfoot let out a scream that not only made us drop everything to cover our ears, but you could feel it; it went right through us like the roar of a lion, but longer, deeper, and much more powerful, I am sure.

It ran off, and I knew I’d heard that crashing before!

Sharon came running up, almost out of breath. She heard the scream and came to see if we were okay. She, too, had a gun holstered. Trot and I gathered our wits long enough to tell her what just happened, and I was more than glad they’d come so quickly.

Suffice it to say, we all packed up that night and left.

East Bound and Down

I got home that night in the wee hours. My family was asleep, well, my brother-in-law woke up when he heard me come in. He knew something was up, but with everything that’d happened, he left me alone. Chit-chat was all that was said.

I wanted to tell my family what had happened, and I would, but not until after the funeral. Things at home had gotten even more heated after I left. However, once they realized I was gone, things did settle down, and common sense and courtesy won out.

It took me realizing that if I could stand there with a Bigfoot not fifteen yards from me in the middle of the night and I lived, I could handle making some major decisions about a funeral.

So, with my mind in the right place, I delegated who was to handle what, and there would be no options to argue. You could hear a pin drop or a mouse fart when I did.

Today, I still take day trips to that campground from time to time, but I do not stay overnight, at least not yet.

That is my story, thanks.

– Scott