Ok, I got a story for you. In the mid-70’s I saved a little chunk of money and decided to tour the state of California. My family has been here for at least 4 generations. So, off my ex, my 100 lb Aussie and I went.
Eventually we got to a place on the map called Willow Creek in the Shasta-Trinity Alps. First thing you notice is EVERY business in town is Bigfoot something. Lumber, hardware, laundry, Bigfoot. We were camping everywhere and this wasn’t going to be an exception. Since we were in state if not federal forest I pulled over when I saw the USFS sign.
Now, at the time I had hair past my shoulders and to my surprise so did the guy sitting at the desk with a broken leg. We chatted for a while and I mentioned the frequent name on business signs. He giggled. I finally got around to mentioning we were looking for a spot to camp for the night. He grinned, thought a minute then told me about a place not far away called “Hells Half-Acre”. He described it as a clearing up on a hill that wasn’t a bad hike. It was a cleared spot that on two sides had heavy timber and off to the left was a steep drop-off to a river below. It was the kind of steep that you know if you think you are going to the river you know it is going to take a full tank to get back up.
We took off and found it fairly easily. Had dinner before dark and arranged the camp. I had a small fire burning. After about 9 or 9:30 pm I started hearing stuff getting broken around us. Big snaps of limbs and bushes cracking. Several times I saw big black shapes move quick through the trees but couldn’t tell what they were.
A word here is due about my dog. He was a 100 lb Aussie who had no fear of anything. We had been through Yosemite and Kings so we had been around plenty of big bears. He had no fear and ever would go cop a sniff on ones that weren’t threatened.
Then I started hearing what sounded like a baby crying. I thought it was weird since we were out there by ourselves. No other campers. More crashing and more black shapes. By now my ex was more than worried and decided it was time to get in the sleeping bag. My dog looked at me and when my ex opened the flap on the bag he climbed right in. I never saw that before or since.
More crashing and noises followed. I got a little freaked out and found my harmonica. I could sense something in the timber about 75 yards away but I figured if it isn’t going to bother me I would return the favor. I finally crashed out.
In the morning we made coffee and saw not only my friend from the rangers station but two older guys with him that looked like supervisors. It became obvious that they were checking on us without talking to us.
This taught me a few things. First, maybe the stories are true or why would they come to check on us? Second, we were not the first people who had experienced this nor were those whatevers first look at humans.
That’s my tale and I’m sticking to it 50 years later.