Here's one of my stories from the wilds of British Columbia that could be listed under unexplained.
I've been doing some serious thinking about a strange event that happened to me late one night while on a deer hunting trip in B.C.'s interior mountains, and I have often wondered if anyone else out there has ever experienced something similar to what I'm about to describe?
In October of 1984, a friend of mine from work asked me to join him on a mule deer/moose hunting trip into the Deadman Valley country not far from Kamloops, British Columbia. It sounded like a good outing so I readily agreed.
After we discussed our plans for traveling up to the Deadman Valley country, it seemed that it would be a good idea if we each took our own vehicles since we were working different hours and lived a good distance apart.
Before I left home, my hunting partner called and explained in detail that he would meet me at a small lake that was located near an old rundown, abandoned ranch up the Deadman Valley about 25 miles in off the main highway. He said I couldn't miss the spot we had arranged to meet beside the small lake because there was a large for sale sign nailed to tree at the entrance to the ranch that was impossible to miss. I was simply to go about a quarter mile past the ranch house a pull off to my right on a small side road next to the lake.
The 250 mile trip up to Deadman Valley in my truck and camper was uneventful, and I started into the bush off the main highway shortly after 11 p.m. Along the way up the valley I would pass a ranch with a porch light left on every ten minutes or so until I got in about 20 miles, then there was few signs of people living in the area.
About midnight I came to the for sale sign nailed to tree and thought to myself that indeed it would be impossible to miss. After traveling a hundred feet or so past the sign, I began slowing down and I glanced to my right noticing through the old evergreen trees that there was what appeared to a "light on" inside the old supposedly abandoned ranch house. I was a little upset upon seeing the light in the ranch house as I did not want to trespass on someone's land and perhaps cause trouble with the owner. I decided to proceed the quarter mile up the road past the ranch, found the road to the right beside the lake and made camp.
I slept little during the night as I expected my hunting partner to show up at any time. However, I was later to find out he had mechanical problems and his truck had broken down not far from home. He never did make it.
I got out of bed about one hour before daylight and put on a pot of coffee, had a bite to eat and readied my hunting gear. When it was just about light enough to see, I decided to walk down past the old ranch house and take a trail that headed back into the hills towards the east. Jumping down out of the camper I noticed that the inch or two of snow on the ground had a frozen crust that would make walking noisy and hunting poor.
In about 10 or 15 minutes time I had walked down hill and was outside the old ranch house on the bush road. What first struck me as strange was that there were no fresh tire tracks or footprints around the house or in the yard. Next, I was shocked to see that there was no windows in the house at all. I walked across the property and checked the old log barn out back but found no sign of life there either. It looked like the place had been empty for years.
To this day I have no idea where the light I plainly saw in that old abandoned ranch house came from, but after asking some questions, I have heard stories from other people regarding similar happenings and strange lights at this property and a few others.
Maybe some people never leave their land and home ... even after they die?
I sent the following story to Bobbie Short and it can also be found on her Bigfoot Encounters site:
Story out of Pitt Lake, British Columbia 1960
About mid-August 1960, I was asked by a good friend Barry to go on a two or three day camping trip to Pitt Lake. Barry's dad Vince Sr. had arranged a boat ride into an isolated beach at the mouth of Debeck Creek with his brother Joe who at the time owned and operated several big logging operations in the Pitt Lake region.
Note: At the time Barry and I would have been eight or nine years old, Barry's younger brother Terry (who also tagged along) would have been about five or six, and Vince Sr. would have probably been in his late 30s.
Joe picked us up at Pitt Lake boat launch after dropping his logging crew off at camp one early morning, and we traveled by speed boat north up Pitt Lake about 15 kilometers. Joe dropped us and our gear off on the beach at the mouth of Debeck Creek with a promise to keep an eye out for us when he passed by each morning. Since the weather was warm and clear, it was decided no tent was required (probably because Barry and I insisted to his dad that we camp in the wilds just like our heroes Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone) and we would sleep in our bags and blankets under the stars. Vince Sr. and young Terry picked a beautiful flat spot on the pea-gravel beach right near the mouth of Debeck Creek to camp. Barry and I decided we wanted to camp like the Indians and mountain men did and found a spot about 80 feet away to lay our sleeping bags. We tucked in a hole right in under a ten foot high root ball that was still attached to giant Red-cedar log. The hole inside the cedar trees's root system looked more like a little cave just big enough for us to crawl in.
We did the usual stuff that kids and dads do while camping: roasted wieners, went swimming in the lake, sat around and cooked over the camp fire, went on short hikes up the creek to try fishing, and generally had a bunch of fun. We did, however, do one thing that was a little different that may have played a part in what happened: while back at our hideout Barry and I had a long wolf howling contest on our first night there (until his dad told us to shut up and go to sleep).
Although I can't for the life of me remember the sound that woke Barry and I up from a deep sleep under our log, I do recall that it was just beginning to break day. I also remember that we both jumped up out of our sleeping bags and headed for his dad at a real quick pace.
Once Barry and I got over to where his dad was sitting with his .303 British army rifle clutched in his hands, we could plainly see he was rattled, shaking like a leaf, and as white as a ghost. Even though we were kids we both knew by looking at his dad's reaction and facial expressions that something was seriously wrong. Thinking back, when you see real fear in a grown person, it's little things like this that you can never forget.
I remember that Barry and I were scared stiff after seeing his dad, but we did ask him what was wrong. He replied to us that he kept his loaded rifle aimed at a big black bear "walking continuously on its hind legs" that had been sniffing, pawing and circling around and around the log that Barry and I were sleeping under. Now even at this young age Barry and I were not stupid city slickers. We both came from hunting families and knew that bears don't remain on their hind legs while walking. I clearly remember that we gave each other a look and knew that his dad's story was pure bullnuts (excuse my language).
In any case, I also remember that as soon as we finished gulping down our breakfast the first thing that Barry and I did was casually wander back over to our log hideout to search the ground for tracks. I do remember finding some big tracks but all they really were was holes in the pea-gravel where something had gone around the big root-ball in circles.
It might be of interest that in 2003 I was contacted by a Brad Hay from Abbotsford, BC, who reported seeing a Sasquatch not more than one mile from where we camped at the mouth of Debeck Creek. Also, John Green's report (page 19 Encounters with Bigfoot) of the two prospectors that encountered an estimated 12-15 foot Sasquatch that left 22 to 24 inch tracks was no more than five miles from this location. John Green also received a report from two men who in 1933 witnessed a Sasquatch eating berries about three miles from Debeck Creek. I also watched a private 1967 video of a prospector/trapper named Warren Scott who lived in a huge tree house. Scott had built his house 20 feet from ground level (because of deep snow in the winter) some 5000 feet up on top of a mountain located at the northerly end of Pitt Lake. Scott showed his sketches of Sasquatch on camera and made a comment about a Sasquatch migration route that has stuck with me for all these years. Believe it or not, my life-long friend Dan Gerak (and 3 witnesses) who owns the upper Pitt River Lodge (http://www.pittriverlodge.com) once found fresh 17-inch Sasquatch tracks in a particular valley, and made the exact same comment as Scott to me about a Sasquatch migration route over 30 years later. Gerak told me this after spending many hours flying all over this country in Jet Ranger helicopters and noting that there is "only one open valley" between Pitt, Stave and Harrison lakes that does not end in sheer cliffs.
If I was ever going to get serious about finding Sasquatch — and had the time and means to do it — I wholeheartedly believe the place to do it would be up in the Boise Valley country northwest of the head of Pitt Lake. However, I would never consider going into the Boise Valley alone. Why? My own experiences and the following information (and good advice) from page 22 of John Green's book Encounters with Bigfoot: "The mountain country around the head of Pitt Lake is extremely rugged and quite a few people have gone in there and never come out. It is supposed to hold a lost gold lode of fabulous wealth, which is why some of the people have gone there, but whether or not the story of the gold is true the story of the missing people certainly is. I have noted the gradual increase in the total (note: the number missing people is now 22) during my years in the newspaper business. The terrain itself provides plenty of reasons why lone venturers might never be seen again, but there are persistent traditions that the sasquatch have something to do with it."
Although John Green did not mention it (or didn't know it at the time of his report) the two prospectors that encountered an estimated 12-15 foot Sasquatch that left 22 to 24 inch tracks, were in the Boise Valley. The Boise has never been logged and has giant cedar and fir trees over 1000 years old. It is also the "only" valley at about the 4000 foot level northwest of Pitt Lake that contains small lakes. How do I know this stuff? When I had my guiding and wilderness adventure going I was deeply involved (and have the newspaper articles, maps and videos to prove it) in getting the Boise Valley set aside as part of a park in the Pinecone/Burke Wilderness Area. I was also "the only" person that supplied water and land transportation into the Boise Valley and upper Pitt River Valley.
Post by scary story i heard on Jan 31, 2006 3:30:33 GMT -5
i like to listen to them radio stations where people ring in and talk! anyw one night this lorry driver rang in and his story scared me because it sounded so convincing this is the tale.
this guy was driving his rig through scotland. he was driving on a road that meandered through a valley with dense forest on either side and it was night time so it was very dark. as he was driving he noticed a bright light in the forest and he felt compelled to pull up his rig get out and investigate which he did . he made his way into the forest which was most difficult as there was no paths and he had to struggle to climb through the dense foliage all the time heading towards this mysteriouse bright light. on and on he trudged and then................the light went out and he was surrounded in pitch darkness he couldnt even see his hand infront of his face ! he was pretty spooked at this so he turned round and made his way back to his rig which was safely parked on the road where he left it.he felt so relieved to get back in his trusty old cab he switched on his interior light reached for his flask so he could get a coffee .it was only when he glanced at his clock on the dashboard that he realized that 3 hours had gone by when he was sure he had only been gone for about 20 minutes !
i hope this story didnt disappoint i certainley found it to be believable just by the mans voice
I have a ton of stories from my days as a kid in Africa.
In the first years we were there, the very rural area we were in had no electricity and our kitchen was outside the main house, in a stone cook house. Inside, our cook James presided over a huge ancient cast iron wood stove, spending time not only cooking but also wittling cow horn and hanging out with his buddies. He lived on a neighboring hill from which he walked early in the morning, and returned late at night.
The mission we lived on was built on the top of the next hill and the road that came up to the mission was cut through an old burial ground. You could see human bones sticking out of the red clay soil on the banks beside the road.
One day after James had gone home we heard a frantic knocking at the door. Mom opened it, and there was James, looking extremely pale and grey (for an African), nearly faint from fright. He said that he was walking home as he always did, and then suddenly a huge flaming being blocked his path! He turned to run, and the being was suddenly behind him, too! He ran anyway, and when he got in our house refused to go home.
Finally my dad convinced him to go home accompanied by a group of men, and with dad along for moral support. They got home ok and there was never again any problem after that.
Last Edit: Oct 6, 2006 14:39:59 GMT -5 by vilnoori
lol I don't remember anything hallucinogenic in the African herbals, but some did imbibe in palm wine and corn beer. Not James though, he'd get fired. Sadly James got chicken pox about a year after this and died. Yes, from chicken pox. Poor guy. I was fond of him.
Sorry to hear about that Vilnoori. Chicken pox is a "coin-toss" if you contract it as an adult or even worse, in one's elderly years. That's why so many parents try to get their children to catch it at a very young age.
Wow intriguing story Ken! I read of your account somewhere else a while back. I posted my grandfather's tale of his main encounter with what he named "Jakob" last month, and in that story I spoke of my grandpa's enfield. I now possess that same .303 Lee-enfield. It has been lightened up to make more ease of traversing brush, but sentimentally I can say it's the only firearm I have an attachment to. My grandfather kept that rifle after he was done with the Korean war (Something noone can easily do now in the CF's) and he hunted, and protected his farm with it for the remainder of his life. I inheritated it upon his passing, and someday I will give it to my son. Sorry if this is off topic from the general theme. I just have a great deal of respect for the old c1/Enfield. A beautiful and reliable rifle. If you take care of one, it'll last for many years. Back to Jakob for a moment, I never saw him, and apart from something I heard as a child, I can't say I have ever had an encounter with the big galute; My grandfather however had a few tales of interest. One being the time I posted about my grandfather firing at it, as it was harrassing the chicken coup, and fought the dogs (I was terrified of those dogs, massive beasts, as far as rottwielers go). But as the years went on he had funny stories to tell about jakob. Whatever Jakob was, be it sasquatch, etc, my grandfather feared, respected, and gave it its space, so long as it did the same. He never was one to "bulls**t." Apart from scaring me into being a good lad with tales of the boogeyman "Jakob" he was serious when the subject would come up. And I can testify that when he would teach me to shoot, he was leaving the watermelon (and sometimes other gords & fruits) remains of our target practice, for this "Jakob" to feast upon. I hope to one day look upon the real deal squatchy with my own eyes, patience and finding the right place, and staying determined, I really like to think that I'll get my chance one day.
I had a neat experience a number of years ago. Nothing supernatural but it was just a nice thing. I was in Oliver to meet up with in laws on vacation. Being a mite uncomfortable in the camper I woke up quite early before it was light and decided to go for a walk. I walked up to the field up above the reservoire. It was still quite dark. I found a stump and sat down, and just waited for the sunrise and to see what I might see wildlife wise. Well in the dark, a whole herd of deer came into the field and was feeding around me. Somehow they did not sense me or smell me, and I was very quiet and still. I could have jumped up and touched one--one was even within arms reach!
That was quite a special moment. After awhile the herd wandered away, as the sun rose.
Wow, that is special! Catagorize that as a possible once in a lifetime moment. If I were in your shoes at that moment, I could say I would have been feeling the beauty of nature at one of its finest moments, lucky duck. That's pretty cool that they didn't sense you to be there, or even more likely, and all the more special, would be that they simply didn't feel you to be any kind of a threat and were perfectly comfortable around you. I mean close enough to touch one almost! That is awesome, but I keep thinking that they must have known you were there? Envious I am! To sit there during sunrise, surrounded by deer quietly grazing around you, in the tranquility of nature. Way too cool! Steve