“Hello old friend, it’s really good to see you once again.” – Hello Old Friend, Eric Clapton (1976)
Saw these guys earlier this year, Pennsylvania and Illinois (left to right), will this be as close as I ever get?
As a kid, I was really into the tales of “creatures” that reside in the fringes of human habitation and imagination. In the case of Bigfoot, my imagination sure got the best of me as I bought it hook, line and sinker. And back in the 70s, there was plenty of other weirdness to catch a curious minded boy who was more than willing to believe. Beyond various apemen, the list included The Loch Ness Monster, Ogopogo, Champ, The Jersey Devil, The Bermuda Triangle, ghosts, ESP, poltergeists and so on. On the Ripley’s scale I was no doubt with the “believe it” crowd rather than the “or not.”
Look what still shows up at my house all these years later.
Forty some years later I don’t give much credence to most of that stuff. I’ll still fall prey to the occasional headline but read with a considerably more skeptical eye. Maybe I’m a bit more jaded and cynical as a “grownup” or perhaps it’s just inevitable that most of us lose some of the gullibility as we age and learn how the natural world really works (which is amazing enough without having to make stuff up).
But for some reason, Bigfoot stuck.
There’s something about my encounter with the Patterson-Gimlin film that won’t go away. Especially Frame 352 where Bigfoot turned to look directly at me in that movie theater back in 1976. That image of my old friend has continued to fuel my imagination throughout the years upon encountering something not readily identifiable in the great outdoors. I know that in each case there was certainly a logical explanation but evolution supersedes reason with the involuntary “hair standing on the back of your neck” response, leaving you to ponder, “What if?”
In my youth, Bigfoot was lurking somewhere in the pitch black night as I tagged along with Dad navigating the woods awaiting the howl of a bluetick hound on tree. Bigfoot was also responsible for the unseen snorting, crashing commotion on a remote Argyle Lake State Park hiking trail in broad daylight.
And Argyle Lake would be the spot where I came as close as I’ll likely ever come to encountering the real thing. In this instance, it turned out to be a poor choice for a hiding place from which to observe some friends scaring other campers. Our prank was easily outdone by my dad prowling the night looking to give us a dose of our own medicine. Coincidentally, I happened to choose the same bushes as an observation post that my dad was already occupying. A well timed grunt and a hand on my shoulder rendered me unconscious with my final fleeting thought being, “Bigfoot got me.” I was hyperventilating and pretty shook up when I came to but my dad also got an unplanned scare thinking he may have literally scared me to death.
Even as an adult the imagination can still work its wonder on occasion. Late one night at Little John Conservation Club I was awakened by a wicked bit of snarling outside of my tent. It was enough to make me hope that the beers I’d consumed earlier would wait until daylight before issuing “nature’s call.” Of course, a few too many beverages might have also been a contributing factor, along with a raccoon or two.
Some of my stomping grounds through the years. Snakeden Hollow just sounds like a likely spot (see below) and a place we call “The Big Timber” just looks like a likely spot (stay tuned later this week).
More recently, a strange unidentifiable series of shrill shrieks from a tangled patch of timber in the fading daylight at Snakeden Hollow gave me a few goosebumps. The noises actually left me contemplating taking the long way back to my truck rather than walking along the narrow, uphill lane alongside the timber (an incline can significantly impair one’s ability to flee, you know). In the end, I gutted it out with several glances back over my shoulder and lived to tell the tale.
And in the fall of 2015, I had an interesting discussion with a fellow who has actually seen the real thing. During a work trip to Washington State, I struck up a conversation with an onsite co-worker upon asking if he knew where I could pick up a few Bigfoot souvenirs to take home to my kids. Recognizing a fellow Bigfoot fan, he confided in me the tale of his encounter, hesitatingly at first, and then simply sharing the event, never once asking me to believe, as in the end, my view of the incident doesn’t really matter. I no longer remember all the details of his sighting but his delivery and demeanor while relating the experience left a lasting impression. Here was a guy who had indeed seen something that both shook him up pretty good and gave him a resolution to the mystery. Talk about “things that make you go hmmm” and bring you back to the “well, maybe” camp.
Cool gift to my son, Jayce, from a fellow Bigfoot fan (the eyewitness noted above)
Okay, so beyond the eyewitness account, I’ll readily admit that my tales of figurative “bumps in the night” aren’t the most stellar of strange encounters. But even if we humans truly are collectively “alone” out there in the woods, I’m certain that I am not alone in being unable to resist the occasional urge to turn and see what, if anything, is following me. I’d also venture a guess that a few have found themselves walking back to the truck at a little bit faster clip than usual for some odd reason. Perhaps you’ve also reached the point where you’ve found yourself having to suppress the “flight” portion of the good old “fight or flight” response hardwired into your anatomy. The imagination can work wonders in darkness or daylight and imposes no age limit.
Don’t be afraid to admit it. After all, such feelings represent much of what the whole Bigfoot mystery means and even more about what it means to be us.
Gotta have a campfire pic, the best place in the world for discussing our subject.
“There’s some things in this world you just can’t explain.” – The Legend of Wooley Swamp, The Charlie Daniels Band (1980)
Talk to you tomorrow. Troy