No matter where you are in these United States, you most assuredly have heard of the Sasquatch/Bigfoot. A large, ape-like creature who prowls secluded, wooded areas and is very tough to find. Nearly every region has stories of a similar creature, to the point where it has become the stuff of legend and the subject of those monster-hunting shows on the Sci-Fi Channel where a bunch of bro-dudes go out looking for his ass. However, the story of this supposed creature is rooted in serious history, and I intend to explore it.
I’ve lived in the Pacific Northwest for most of my life, and as a result, I’ve been exposed to a lot of tales, stories, and speculation with regard to the Sasquatch. People have elevated this alleged being to a near legendary status, and we often use the likeness of it as a sort of mascot for the region. I suppose it was either that or a salmon or a...tree? Fuck that, though, because we are the presumed home of a large, elusive humanoid who would kick your ass, so this is an obvious pick.
Let’s talk about the name. While the being is commonly referred to as Bigfoot, the name Sasquatch comes from the Salish tribes of Native Americans and their term "Sasquits," which translates to "hairy man." I know a couple of people myself who could be described as sasquits. The Algonquins of the north-central region of the USA refer to this guy as a "Witiko" or "Wendigo." However, a Wendigo is apparently a different creature, described in Middle-American lore as having other traits, such as eating faces and being more of an evil spirit than just some ape ass-fucker who lives in the woods. That said, descriptions of this creature date back to long, long ago.
Sasquatch has been described in story and legend for hundreds of years, which does lend some credence to it. Do they exist? Well, probably not, as the ability of a large ape-like creature to have a sustainable population while somehow not being seen or having anyone find remains...it seems unlikely, though it could be feasible. The Pacific Northwest has forests as most of its primary biome. Typically, they’re temperate rainforests, much as you’ll find in nearly half of the states of Oregon and Washington. You could go out there, deep, and if you were determined enough, nobody would ever find you, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility.
The most famous evidence supporting the existence of Bigfoot/Sasquatch is the Patterson-Gimlin film. You’ve probably seen it, as it’s the classic from 1967, which gets played endlessly when people discuss Sasquatch. It is a presumably organic recording and is the archetypal depiction of the Sasquatch, what with those ten seconds of Bigfoot loping around in front of the camera. Filmed along Bluff Creek, which is a tributary of the good ol’ Klamath River, just 38 miles south of the Oregon border. The film captures the casual, ape-like stride of the creature and its general don’t-give-a-fuck attitude when realizing that people were watching it. Roger Patterson, one of the two guys who took the iconic footage, went to his deathbed claiming it was genuine. His buddy, Bob Gimlin, also states that it was, but also remarked that if his buddy Roger were pranking him, it would have been an extraordinary job.
Sasquatch, in popular culture, has become something of a cultural icon. It’s really the best kind of cultural icon. Apolitical, ambiguous, involves something which may or may not exist but represents a spirit of outdoor culture and an appreciation for life. The Sasquatch features on an innumerable amount of products and media. After all, he’s royalty-free. Some of the more memorable are those really decent coolers, that one beer, and that beef jerky company’s commercials, where unsuspecting campers stumble upon Sasquatch and decide to prank him. Well, and then there’s that 1980s monster truck "Bigfoot." Ah, the golden age of monster trucks, though I liked that weird one with the tank treads, personally.
In the myth and legend of the Native American peoples, Sasquatch has been described many times by many tribes, who all tell slight variations of the same story. Throughout the centuries, the Native Americans’ perspective was basically, "Eh, he’s out there. Don’t mess with him." When all the other people came to this land, they, too, learned about the Sasquatch and were solidly skeptical.
Then, in 1924, there was the Ape Canyon attack. A group of miners in a cabin at Spirit Lake (for those who don’t know, that was the lake on the top of Mount Saint Helens before volcano shit happened) who claimed they were attacked by a tribe of Sasquatch and told that they were assailed for an entire night by the creatures who were beating on the doors, hurling stones, and generally fucking them up. They attempted to retaliate using hunting rifles and mining equipment like pickaxes, but the alleged Sasquatches did not relent until the morning...when, apparently, they decided the miners got the message. Those miners got the fuck out of that cabin as quickly as possible, and probably rightly so if their claims are to be believed. This was a PR disaster for Sasquatch. As time went on, though, Sasquatch has come to be presented as less of a threatening figure and more of a subject of curiosity rather than fear. In the Pacific Northwest, we tend to think of Sasquatch rather fondly, as it was often a thing we heard of as children, and we regard the notion of its existence somewhat sentimentally.
With the history said, I’ve done contemporary research on this and reached out to find people who have some stories and claims about seeing the legendary Sasquatch themselves. I found a few willing to talk about it. The veracity of their claims are, of course, dubious, but the folks I interviewed were adamant about their experiences being 100% true. I obtained their permission to publish their statements in this article, as they were quite happy to be heard.
From one Burton Jackson:
"I was staying the night at a large cat rescue/hippie commune in Southern Oregon once. It was dusk, and we had been hanging out around the fire and catching up. It got cold all of a sudden, but nothing was too alarming about that, as sudden chills happen. But then, there was a smell, kind of a wet dog odor, and kind of like a predator animal, but about three times as strong as any of those.
All of the animals around us started losing their minds: growling and hissing. Even the ancient farm dog got up, went to the edge of the deck, and started barking with an energy I wouldn’t have guessed was in him. Several of the people took their kids inside, and others lit incense and sage bundles. An older Native man who lived there looked at me, and said a word I didn’t understand, then said Sasquatch. The smell passed with some rustling in the fir trees, and then the animals calmed down. After that, everyone just went back to what they were doing. This was 32 years ago, and other than the names of the people who I only met on that occasion, the memory is like it happened last week."
From one Gremlyn Sikes:
"When I first encountered Sasquatch in the Pacific Northwest, I was around the age of seven or eight years old. I was in Clatsop County, Oregon, playing in the woods as a child. A bunch of us were out there, wandering trails and whatnot, above the town of Seaside, near Seaside Heights Elementary School, and we had been walking maybe a bit further than we normally would.
We were out in the woods, far beyond what our parents, at the time, called "the boundary." We were down into some of the old hiking trails and saw it from about 200 yards or more...just briefly, but a couple of times, and we kept following, keeping our distance, ’cause at first, we thought it might have been a bear.
It never let us get close enough to get a good, solid look at it, only ever from about a 200-yard distance. But, it hollered at us loudly and threw rocks and sticks until, well, you know...we were small children, and we all took off in fear.
My second encounter was roughly 7 to 8 years later while I was hitchhiking as a teenager. I was traveling through the redwoods near Arcata, California, and we had built a camp. We were all in our tents sleeping for the night when we heard loud, angry, whooping and shouting noises. Our tents were pelted with rocks.
The creature made such a disturbance that we packed ourselves up and then walked the 10 miles back into Arcata—a long distance from where we had been camping in the woods because we felt threatened by its presence. It actually followed us much of the way out of the woods, whooping, hollering, and throwing things at us, like rocks, sticks, and small bushes. Both of these encounters were accompanied by a smell that I can only describe as wet, hot, dog fur and garbage."
From one Nate West:
"I swear I seen a Sasquatch turd at Bagby once. I almost mistook it for a log and was about to grab it for the campfire until I noticed the toilet paper on it. It was like Gary Coleman’s leg!"
Apart from his possible use of TP, if you run into Sasquatch, you’ll apparently smell the guy coming before you see him, if indeed you do see him.
As a Northwesterner, people not from here occasionally talk to me about this, usually in jest. "Hey, you ever see Bigfoot? Haha."
My go-to response is, "Not in a while. Motherfucker borrowed five bucks to get some Jo-Jos, and I haven’t seen ’em since."
Typically, the response is, "What the hell are Jo-Jos?"
Much like Sasquatch, if ya know...ya know.
I want to believe,
-Wombstretcha
Wombstretcha the Magnificent is a Sasquatch believer, skeptic, enthusiast, writer, and retired rapper from Portland, OR. He can be found at Wombstretcha.com, on Twitter as @Wombstretcha503 and on Facebook (boo!) and MeWe (yay!) as "Wombstretcha The Magniflcent."
