For some strange reason, most people think I am slightly odd. I whole heartedly agree and add the entire family is off just a bit also, but just enough to be fun. The “normal” world is extremely depressing and quite boring anyway.
The following is a true story but a majority of those who read this may not agree. If that is the case with you, all I ask is to keep an open mind. Don’t judge it by the lunatic that is telling the story.
August of 1981 Angie and I were spending time at the family cabin in Oregon with her younger sister, Lynette and our little one year old daughter, Marisa. This was 1 year and 3 months after the Mt. St. Helens eruption in Washington State (this tidbit of information will make sense later in the story). The cabin is located in the middle of the national forest about one mile off the paved road, approximately eight miles in either direction to the nearest electric light. The area is in the wilderness and the property has been in Angie’s family for the last century.
One dark moonless night we were sitting around the campfire roasting “smores” when I noticed that all the normal nighttime noises were strangely missing. I was about to mention it to Angie when the silence was pierced by a loud scream coming from the far side of the meadow. It sounded like a cross between a woman and a large cat. This cry was answered by an identical one coming from the direction of the footpath between the cabin and the outhouse. “What was that?” asked Angie. That’s exactly what I was thinking at that moment.
I have spent all my youth camping out of doors in many remote places and I had never heard anything like that. Before I could formulate an answer for my now very scared wife and sister in law we heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the footpath, “Fumph, Fumph, Fumph”. I have heard large deer running, this was not a deer. It sounded just like footsteps, only the thing creating them must be very heavy from the sound they were making. I stood up with the .22 caliber rifle that we always kept handy. The footsteps approached the fire and I leveled the gun above where I thought it was and let a couple of shots off to discourage any further interaction. The reason I shot over it’s head was that I knew a .22 would only irritate a large animal and I definitely did not want to make this thing, whatever it was, mad.
I told the girls to run to the cabin which they did without any further encouragement. When I got to the door I found it locked and after some frantic banging that was accompanied by a high pitched blubbering and pleading for the girls to open the door to let me in. When they finally did I asked them why they didn’t let me in in the first place and they said from the sounds I was making they thought a pack of highly agitated girl scouts on crack were at the door.
I stood in the middle of the cabin trying to gather my thoughts. What was that thing? One thing was for sure, we were not spending the night in the cabin! I told the girls that I was going to go out the back door of the cabin with the rifle and the lantern. I told them to follow with the baby and get into the car. During that frantic dash Angie, of course, falls in the shallow ditch next to the cabin and losses her shoe. As they were getting in the car I was standing in the middle of the driveway guarding them with the rifle and when they were in I then turned off the lantern and rushed to the car as the light faded to pitch black.
I started the car and backed into the meadow but, to my horror, as I put the car into drive it would not move forward! “Sacred Excrement!”, I thought, as I struggled to get the car moving, “It’s got us by the bumper!”.
Much to my relief I eventually remembered the parking brake and after releasing it we drove down the dirt road towards the safety of the family farm in the valley. The first gate we had to open was located just 100 yards from the cabin at a tree covered section of the dirt road. Getting out at that gate to unlock it in the pitch darkness was an experience I would not want to repeat.
We made it to town around 12:30am and woke up Uncle David and Aunt Connie. Dave gave me a couple of skeptical look as I breathlessly related the evening’s events. He asked me how much I had to drink and I told him I ran out of beer 2 days ago. He then asked if I knew what the DT’s were. He must of somewhat believed us because when we got up in the morning to return to the cabin to get our things he had placed a .44 magnum pistol on the front seat of my car.
I called a friend who had a “unusual” experience while spelunking near Mt. St. Helens. He said he had popped up out of a side air hole in the cave to find himself in the middle of a small clearing in the deep forest. He related that he immediately got a funny feeling that he was being watched. A moment later something screamed at him from the edge of the forest only to be answered by another scream from the other side of the clearing. I asked him to imitate the screams and he did a perfect impression of last night’s performance. After much research upon getting home to Idaho I discovered that there had been many “unusual” sightings and vocalizations around Mt. St. Helen’s before the eruption. That may have explained why we were having this experience.
We were accompanied back up by a half a dozen cousins and a small arsenal of weaponry. The cabin appeared undisturbed when we arrived in mid morning. We went down to the camp fire area to trace back the approximate direction of the sounds and found large barefoot prints in the dust around the cold fire pit.
I walked towards where the footsteps had stopped and found a large footprint deep in the soil behind a fallen log about 60 feet from the fire. It was approximately ¾” deep with a well defined outline of a bare foot complete with heel and toes clearly defined. The big toe was slightly bent out away from the toes instead of the normal position you would find on a human footprint. I stood on the log and jumped down with my boots and the imprint was only ¼” deep, at that time I weighed about 175 lbs. My density has increased over the years.
We followed the footprints back across the meadow and found two other sets of prints at the far end of the meadow. The set we followed from the fire was the smallest at 14” long. The other two were 16”& 17” in length. The biggest and the smallest prints were traced back along the edge of the meadow toward the outhouse path and it appears they were coming up the path towards the cabin while the mid sized prints stayed at the end of the meadow and apparently made the first scream that was answered by the pair coming near the cabin.
We measured the stride on the largest prints and found it to be 6’ between toe and heel. We also found a pair of the largest prints at the window on the end of the cabin around the corner from the rear door we came out of on our panicked retreat. It seems from the position of the tracks that the creature was looking in the window.
None of the family that has been staying at the cabin since it was built in the late 1940’s ever had an experience like that. I had been a member of Angie’s family for a little over four years and I think they shrugged it off to the “Weirdo” Angie had married.
Since that time we have heard several vocalizations at night when back at the cabin over the now 37 year span. Some of them were heard by our daughter Marisa and her husband while they were in a tent in the upper meadow. They were both awake listening to these strange “hoots” when Marisa’s bladder informed her that it was going to burst unless she relieved it immediately. Her husband hesitated to accompany her and was quickly informed that she would personally pee on his head if he didn’t go with her. They made quite a sight, I would imagine, with Marisa crouched beneath a tree while my son-in-law stood guard with a pistol of questionable quality he borrowed from his dad.
They are now believers.
I have caught quite a lot of grief from the family and friends over the years but I know what happened as I was there. Angie confirms the account and this disturbs some of the family as they always assumed that she was not affected by my vivid imagination and sense of humor. Thankfully they don’t read the blog.
Hahahaha wish I was there for that!!!!