Man or Beast ?

One of the most frightening moments of my life occurred a few years ago when I crawled out of bed, stumbled sleepily into the restroom and saw my deceased mother watching me from the mirror. Now I see her every morning. I loved her dearly, but I never once thought I resembled her.

Stay with me now as I completely flip-flop to a totally unrelated topic: Bigfoot!

Also known around the world as Almas, Barmanus, B'gwas, Booger, Devil Monkey, Gin-sung, Gugu, Kakundakári, Mo Mo, Nguoi rung, Nuk-Luk ,Nyalmo, Oh-mah, Old Yellow Top, Orang-Pendek , Sasquatch, Skunk Ape, Tano Giant, Teh-Ima, Ucumar, Windigo, Yeren, Yeti, and Yowie.

The hairy guy really gets around doesn’t he?

My daughter Karmyn posted a story of the time we accompanied a Big Foot Hunter into the Blue Mountains. I used the excuse of another daughter’s class project to finagle the big man’s cooperation. The truth is I was and still am curious about what may or may not be. (The videotape of that day’s adventure has inexplicably disappeared.)

I also was acquainted with a wealthy and healthy older couple who owned a summer home up where the Blue Mountains cross into the State of Oregon. They would visit with me at work and share stories about bizarre ‘screaming’ and rocks and mud flung at their log cabin. Their neighbors shared the same strange occurrences including seeing ‘Bigfoot’ tracks at the muddy edge of a nearby stream. An old mountain man would stop by their cabin with his trusty pack mule when he passed through and tell them about his encounters with a family of hairy beasts. They seemed so genuine and they piqued my interest with their credibility.

My most recent “encounter” story comes from some close friends who I will only call Dick and Jane. (They wish to remain anonymous.)

The other evening they were at our house conversing on general topics when Dick mentioned his unidentified sighting. Of course, I had to hear the complete story.

They love to go camping in the wilderness. On an impulse, they will throw things in their small SUV and head up into the mountains. Then, they backpack into some remote spot where they eat over a campfire and gaze at the stars that aren’t observable from our lighted neighborhoods.

However, it was an entirely different weekend in the mountains when their odd event occurred.

They rented an A-frame cabin on a lake that is visible from the curvy two-lane highway that threads through the Blue’s and then continues on to the snow-capped majestic Wallowa Mountain range.

Seated close together on the open deck that overlooked a small shrub-filled ravine, they gazed over it and down at the lake reflected moon. The night noises provided a soft soundtrack for an evening that Jane portrayed as the three R’s; relaxing, reviving, and romantic.

“There was a sudden and eerie silence,” was how Jane described the mood change. “Even the dogs barking in the distance stopped, as did the frogs and the crickets. It just became freaky quiet.”

Dick smiled at his wife and then over at me and said, “Yeah, I got a weird sensation and the hair on my arms and neck stood on end, like when you shiver.”

Jane recalled feeling so uncomfortable that she insisted they retreat into the cabin where she changed her clothes and went to bed. She refused to entertain any scary thoughts.

Dick, on the other hand, was restless and unsettled. He flicked off the lights and turned the easy chair towards the full-length window, watching wispy clouds drift across the moon and wondering if there was a cougar in the area.

That’s when a tall upright figure moved abruptly from the right edge of the trees into his line of sight. It walked down on the far side of a log that lay across the width of the gully and stopped not more than twenty feet from the deck.

The being turned towards the cabin and Dick was positive whoever, whatever it was, was looking directly at him as he sat immobile and in shock.

“I did manage to swallow a big lump in my throat.” He added in a humorous tone.

Then it twisted away, and in several strides moved across the ravine, disappearing into the shadows. Dick had no immediate urge to rush out to investigate, nor did he sleep well that night.

The next morning they walked down to inspect the fallen log. Dick, close to 6 foot in height, could not see over it. Whatever peered across to glare at him would have needed to stand at least 8 feet tall. The sogginess of the soil captured several foot and toe prints that extended well past Dicks size 10 ½ shoe in both length and width.

In telling their story, they both took some deep breaths, and released some uncomfortable sighs. I imagined it was very like what they would have done at the moment of their discovery.

Then Jane's trademark cackling laugh, something she does a lot, cut through the strained moment. She announced, “Oh yea, now sometimes on Friday after work we just hop in the car and drive up that way and just sit and wait, hoping we’ll see it again. Or somehow resolve the issue in our minds.”

Then she saddled up next to me and gave me a conspiratorial nudge. “Hey, next time we go, you wanna tag along,” she asked

Does Bigfoot Poop in the woods?