Bigfoot: A Fifty-Year Journey Come Full Circle

Introduction

Please allow me to begin by stating the obvious regarding my book on the Bigfoot Forest People phenomena: I’m either a lunatic, a liar, or I’m telling the truth.

For those of you who think I’m a lunatic, the trolls and haters have already filed complaints with the psychologist licensing boards in the States of Washington and Oregon alleging psychosis and drug abuse. However, the licensing boards swiftly rejected their complaints as bogus, citing that I’ve shown no signs of psychosis, drug abuse, nor have I injured any of my patients as a practicing psychologist. They also responded to the complainants by saying that they’re not in the habit of regulating the hobbies of psychologists. Finally, I’m still gainfully employed as a Licensed Clinical Psychologist. Just saying.

For those of you who think I’m a liar, although I’m far from perfect, I’m a born-again Christian and I value my honesty and integrity. I don’t lie and I don’t hoax. If I say it happened, guess what? It happened. The cool thing is that I have at least 50+ witnesses who’ve joined me in my research areas over the past seventeen years and they have all vetted and validated my work. If it was just me, all by myself, reporting what I’m finding, experiencing, and learning, then it would be easy to blow me off as being dishonest. It would be easy to call me a liar.

However, when you include 50+ people confirming my research findings via their YouTube video testimonials, you don’t get to call me a liar. You simply have to admit that the issue really lies within you. You’re not willing to believe the truth, even if 50+ people are telling you that I speak the truth. The real issue is that you’re unwilling to climb out of your little rigid box where you feel safe. You don’t want me messing with your current worldview. But, if you proceed reading my book with an open mind and allow me to blow your little rigid box to smithereens, I’ll show you a world full of wonder, love, respect, and connection to others and our world.

For those of you who believe I’m telling you the truth in my book, I thank you for your confidence and trust in my honesty and integrity. However, I caution you before you proceed to read my book. Some of you will also have your mind blown by what I’m about to share. Some of you will also learn that there’s much more to the Bigfoot Forest People phenomena and to our world than you could ever imagine. In the end, I hope to encourage and assist you in developing a trusting relationship with the Bigfoot Forest People as well as with our mutual Creator.

Finally, for those of you who don’t know me, I’ve always been a passionate educator about the issues and topics that grab my attention. For example, during my junior year in high school, a fellow student died in an alcohol and drug related car accident after attending a party in west Salem, Oregon after we won the Valley League Basketball Championship in 1979. His death hit me so hard that I spent the remainder of my junior year and my entire senior year speaking at all of the local elementary schools and middle schools on the topic of Alcohol and Drug Abuse Prevention. I used my local celebrity status as an All-State and Honorable Mention All-American basketball player to passionately educate the younger members of our community from the ill effects of alcohol and drug abuse.

Also, after we intervened on my mother and her alcoholism, I became passionate about becoming a State and Nationally Certified Alcohol and Drug Abuse Counselor. I also went on to obtain my first Master’s degree (MSW) at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, New Jersey. I obtained my second Master’s degree and Doctorate degree in Clinical Psychology from George Fox University in Newberg, Oregon (i.e., A Christian liberal arts institution located halfway between Portland OR and the Oregon coast).

Finally, I wrote a book, Positive Parenting with a Plan (Grades K-12): FAMILY Rules and spoke in eighty cities per year for over ten years as I passionately educated thousands of professionals and parents regarding how to implement order and structure into their lives as they utilized a successful game plan for parenting in their homes.

Are you seeing a pattern yet? In other words, when something grabs a hold of my attention, it’s been my natural response throughout my lifetime to engage in passionate education about the topic. My goal has always been to help others understand and to help improve their lives one way or another.

Regarding the Bigfoot Forest People phenomena, how will learning about them help to improve your life? Well, if you have a better understanding of who they are, where they’re from, and why they’re here, that information will hopefully cause you to engage in self-reflection and cause you to improve your connection with yourself, others, our planet, and with our Creator. As a Licensed Clinical Psychologist with a professional reputation and licenses to maintain, I have everything to lose and nothing to gain by taking the risk to tell you the truth. I hope you appreciate this fact. On the other hand, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain by taking the time to read my book. In the end, I hope you feel blessed with newly acquired knowledge, understanding, wisdom, respect, and love for yourself, others, the Bigfoot Forest People, and God.

In memory of my father, Arthur H. Johnson, and my mother, JoAnn Johnson. They loved me with everything they had and taught me to stand strong in what I believe, to never give up no matter what, and to always tell the truth.

In memory of Dr. William Bill York (Wildlife Biologist). He was my mentor, good friend, and father figure. He taught me the importance of persistence while pursuing eventual contact with the Bigfoot Forest People.

Part 1

FROM MYTH AND LEGEND INTO REALITY

CHAPTER ONE

GOING FOR A RIDE

It was 3:00 am on Monday morning, July 10, 2000. The alarm clock jolted me out of my sleep. I had tossed and turned all night long due to anxiety. My mind would not shut off. Although the shower was refreshing, it didn’t wake me up. Not even close. Nevertheless, I managed to shave, brush my teeth, comb my hair, get my clothes on, fasten all of the buttons, and get outside to wait for my ride. I wasn’t sure if I was shivering due to the temperature or shaking because of my anxieties or both.

At 4:00 am, the dark sky and cold temperatures didn’t make it easy for me to climb inside the vehicle that came by to pick me up. Within seconds, after a very polite greeting and welcome, I was off on an adventure. I couldn’t believe that I was sitting in the back of a stretch limo, riding north to Portland, Oregon. Ironically, I was listening to Don’t Stop Believing by Journey over the stereo system in the back of the car. I drank some juice. It was too early to partake of the alcohol. I had to be in the interview chair and ready to go at the Portland NBC affiliate station by 6:00 am sharp.

As the street lights were flashing by the windows and blinding my tired eyes, I was hoping that I didn’t overdress for my interview with Jayne Clayson on the Today Show. Normally, I reserve wearing suits and ties for weddings and funerals. Up until six months prior, I had been a twenty-year resident of Alaska. While living there, I acquired a taste for the low key casual dress code prevalent across America’s largest State where some men would wear Carhartt Overalls to church on Sunday mornings. While living there, I developed an allergy to dressing up. However, I’ve been told that I clean up nicely.

Needless to say, I was scared to death. In less than two hours, several million people were going to be watching me on TV and listening to my unbelievable story. However, I was happy that Bryant Gumbel was home sick that morning and unable to interview me. I just didn’t think that he was going to be as kind and polite as I was hoping Jayne Clayson would be when the camera and lights were turned on.

Three days earlier, on Friday, July 7th, I had received a phone call from a producer who wanted to book me for an interview on their TV show. Although several local Oregon TV news shows and radio stations had already contacted me, I was not very media savvy. When she told me that they wanted to book me for a two-minute interview on their show, I told her no. Absolutely not. I told her that I couldn’t possibly tell my entire story in two short minutes. I told her that I wasn’t willing to do the interview unless they gave me at least four minutes. She responded to me with a very loud frustrated sigh and told me that she would talk with her boss and get back to me in less than an hour. I apologized for the inconvenience I was causing her but I held my ground.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, she called me back and told me that they would guarantee me a four-minute interview. However, she said, If Good Morning America or any of the other major morning TV shows contact you, we get first dibs for the interview with you. I was very confused and asked, Who is this? She said, We’re the Today Show broadcasting live out of New York city. Who did you think we were? I responded, I thought you were a local Oregon TV news station. She said, No sir. You’ve made it into the big leagues. We’re the Today Show in New York city but we are going to interview you at our affiliate NBC station located in Portland, Oregon. The only thing that will bump your interview on Monday morning is if Cuba sends Elian Gonzalez back to the U.S.A.

Once I realized that I was dealing with the Today Show out of New York city, I felt both horrible and excited at the same time. I felt horrible because I didn’t want her to think that I was some kind of prima donna demanding twice as much time as they were originally willing to give me for the interview. On the other hand, I was excited because they must have really wanted to hear my story and get it out there to the world if they were willing to double their precious interview time from two-minutes to four-minutes. Also, the fact that they wanted me to commit to giving them first dibs, if any of the other major morning TV shows contacted me, demonstrated to me just how much they wanted me on their show. Wow! Was this really happening?

As planned, the stretch limo arrived at the Portland, Oregon NBC affiliate station at approximately 5:30 am. The sun was coming up, I was more awake, and my nerves were jacked up. I was escorted into the building and taken upstairs to the area where the interview chair was positioned in front of a very big camera. A very kind lady sat me in the chair, I received some light touch up with make-up, had an earpiece placed in my ear so I could hear Jayne Clayson’s questions, a mic placed on my shirt so she could hear my responses, and I was instructed to wait for the producer to count down over the earpiece for the interview to begin.

In the meantime, my nerves weren’t helped by the fact that, in the same room, sitting at their own desks, preparing for their shows, were Lars Larson and Tracy Barry. Both local Oregon news icons. I obviously didn’t know it but Lars Larson would eventually become a national conservative commentator icon with his own syndicated radio program. I couldn’t believe that I was sitting in the same room with them. I was in awe. The whole experience was surreal.

While waiting to be interviewed by the Today Show, Lars Larson was talking with Tracy Barry. He was joking, laughing, and telling her about the new recipient of the Darwin Natural Selection Award. Apparently, some lady in her mid-eighties stepped outside of her car while the carwash was in full operation and got herself killed in Hillsboro, Oregon.

I remember him laughing and talking about how stupid it was for anyone to climb out of their vehicle in the middle of their car being washed. I also remember thinking how disappointed I felt when I heard him talking that way about the demise of the elderly woman and laughing. I thought his humor was inappropriate and I felt sorry for her family. I’ve never forgotten that moment. Although I like him as a conservative radio commentator and I share his conservative political views, I thought he was being insensitive at that moment in time. However, he did manage to distract me from my overwhelming nerves. Tracy Barry appeared to ignore his humor. In Lars Larson’s defense, I have also joked inappropriately in order to cope with the constant exposure to the negative news that has constantly crossed my path as a licensed clinical psychologist over the past two decades.

Suddenly, the producer spoke up through the earpiece and the countdown began. The lights came on, including the light on the very big camera, and I could hear the ending of the previous segment before my interview. Then I could hear that Jane Clayson was introducing me and my interview was beginning. My heart was pounding rather quickly but I was telling myself to remain calm and professional. It was quite odd because I did not have a visual monitor. I could not see Jayne Clayson. The only thing that I could see was the very big camera staring back at me. I felt like I was sitting there talking to the camera.

Near the beginning of the interview, I found myself multitasking in my mind. While I was listening to Jayne Clayson talk, I was worried about Lars Larson and Tracy Berry possibly continuing to talk while I was being interviewed. I thought it was weird that I wasn’t placed in a private room without any possible distractions. To my delight, they were both very professional and remained totally quiet while my interview took place. I didn’t want America learning about the latest Darwin Natural Selection Award in the background. I’m a perfectionist that way. I always want everything to be spot on.

As Jayne Clayson was interviewing me, I thought things were going well. I thought I was managing my anxiety fairly well while answering her questions intelligently. Then she asked the proverbial question, Do your friends think that you’re crazy? I could hear that the tone of her voice had changed and that the interview was about to go down a path that I wasn’t looking forward to. Fortunately, I had prepared myself ahead of time for the worst case scenario. You know, for the moment when, after helping me to feel comfortable and getting the story out of me, where she sets me up to look crazy to the audience by asking the confrontational question about my sanity.

Because I had rehearsed for this moment several times in my mind in case the situation arose during the interview, I was prepared with a proper response. As my college basketball coach, Harry Larrabee used to say, Prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance which came in handy when we played against teams like Georgetown, North Carolina, Kentucky, Louisville, Houston, and other teams. In the spirit of prior proper planning, I chose to dress in my suit and tie rather than my typical hoodie and baseball cap. I thought that the professional look combined with my rehearsed response would shut her up and get her to back away from her attempt to belittle me on national TV. I simply responded to her question in a very calm and professional manner, No. My friends all know me. They know that I’m a Christian and that I’m a Doctor of Psychology and that I wouldn’t lie about something like this. Boom!

During my stretch limo ride back to Salem, Oregon, I was feeling a major sense of relief. I could finally breathe. The interview was over. I couldn’t believe how fast it went by. My heart rate was dropping back down to normal. I was extremely pleased when I realized that the interview that I had successfully negotiated to be extended from two minutes to four minutes had actually lasted for a grand total of ten minutes. That’s right, five times longer than the initial precious two-minutes that they were originally willing to give me. I chuckled to myself as it became clear to me that I managed to throw off Jayne Clayson, put her in her place, and that she actually eventually became intrigued by my story.

When I returned to my parents’ home in Salem, Oregon. I was greeted with fanfare from family and friends. My kids thought daddy was a TV star. We sat down for some breakfast and watched the video tape of my interview. Wow! What a different perspective. It’s one thing to be sitting in someone else’s office, in front of a very large camera with lights in your face, versus watching the verbal exchange on the TV set.

As I watched the videotape of the interview, two things became very clear to me. First, I was right. She was setting me up for the proverbial question to make me look crazy to her national audience. Second, she was unprepared for my calm and professional response. I could see it on her face and through her body language. I caught her off guard. I could tell that she hadn’t been properly prepped regarding my story or my background. The truth of the matter is that Bryant Gumbel was most likely prepped, then he became ill, and stayed home from work. Jayne Clayson filled in at the last minute and conducted the interview instead of him.

When I told her, No. My friends all know me. They know that I’m a Christian and that I’m a Doctor of Psychology and that I wouldn’t lie about something like this, she was blown away. She looked totally shocked. However, she’s a professional and recovered very quickly. From that moment on, the entire interview changed and went on for a total of ten-minutes. Grand slam home run! She ended the interview behaving in a very respectful manner and said, Well there’s a story to tell the grandchildren someday. She had no idea.

As things have turned out, it has become a story to tell to the rest of the world – not just a story to tell to my grandchildren. My family’s encounter on the mountain above the Oregon Caves National Monument Park, on the right side of the Big Tree Loop Trail, is not just a story that begins and end on that fateful Saturday on July 1, 2000. Rather, the story also includes everything else that I’ve experienced and learned during the subsequent seventeen years of research into the Bigfoot phenomena. Buckle up, ladies and gentlemen, you’re going for a ride too. An adventure of amazement and wonder.

CHAPTER TWO

SCARED TO DEATH

On Saturday, December 18, 1999, I pulled out of Fairbanks, Alaska in a twenty-six-foot-long U-Haul truck while pulling a twelve-foot-long cargo trailer. Essentially, I was a truck driver in charge of forty plus feet of metal, including the trailer tongue, driving down the Alaska Highway. Although it was my first winter drive, I was not worried because it was also the eighth time that I would be making the two-thousand-five-hundred-mile drive. In my mind, the only difference was that it would be dark most of the day and thirty-five degrees below zero. Actually, close to sixty degrees below zero with the wind chill factored into the equation. No big deal, right? Just another day of driving in the frozen wasteland of the north.

As I began my trip south to the Lower 48 States, I was reminiscing about my Alaska adventures. The highlights included moving to Anchorage in 1980 on a basketball scholarship to play at the University of Alaska at Anchorage (U.A.A.). I had the opportunity to play college basketball against some of the best teams in the country. I got half my picture in the December 1980 issue of the Sports Illustrated magazine. My silly teammate was in the way of the other half. I was able to play summer basketball in Brazil in 1981 and in Australia in 1983. I started my professional career in the mental health field in Alaska and also volunteered my time with Anchorage Youth For Christ.

Also, while living in Alaska, I was able to see the entire State with the exception of the Aleutian chain. I camped, hiked, fished, and did a small amount of hunting. I pet a Moose and fed it some carrots while she stuck her head inside our home. A buddy and I were chased by a Grizzly bear while on a fishing adventure. I was scared to death. I followed a beautiful jet black Wolf for a couple of miles, on my snowmobile, across a frozen lake above the Arctic Circle. I caught an eighty-five pound Halibut and a thirty-five pound King Salmon. I saw the coast of Russia from the north side of St. Lawrence Island while staying and speaking in Gambell, Alaska. I saw the Northern Lights dance around the top of Denali – The Great One. I gardened in the daylight at 2:00 am in the morning.

Although I was going to miss Alaska, I was looking forward to raising our children in the State of Oregon where I grew up. The temperatures Were milder in Oregon, there’s much less snow, and the Interstate Five corridor makes everything more accessible and closer to travel to without having to buy five airline tickets to get there. Most important of all, my children could play outside without freezing to death or being consumed by a Grizzly Bear in the backyard.

Two-hours outside of Fairbanks, Alaska, the water pump froze in the U-Haul truck and apparently shot the fan through the radiator. I suddenly found myself stranded alongside the highway in the middle of nowhere Alaska. It was pitch dark outside, approximately sixty degrees below zero factoring in the wind chill, and I found myself quickly freezing to death. I had no operational engine and therefore no heat. I turned on my emergency flashers and waited for someone, as stupid as me, who would be out driving on the road in these deadly conditions.

Two hours later, I saw a car in my side-view mirror approaching me from behind. I stepped out of the cab of the U-Haul truck and waved down the car. They came to a stop, rolled down the passenger window two inches, and asked me what the problem was. I explained my situation to them. They asked to see my U-Haul rental agreement. I dug it out of the glove compartment and while I was handing it to them through the two-inch opening, they said, We have a gun. I responded by partially unzipping my coat and showed them, Buddy, my miniature Sheltie and said, I have a dog. They didn’t appear to be amused.

I begged them to let me inside their car so I could warm up. They said, Absolutely not. We don’t know you. We will contact a towing company when we get into Delta Junction. I said, But I’ll freeze to death before they arrive. They responded, That’s all we’re willing to do for you. I found that to be so bizarre and foreign to my experiences while living in Alaska. The rule of the road was to help others because that could be you someday. I found myself climbing back into the cab of my truck, shivering nonstop, with my only source of heat being my little dog, Buddy, inside of my jacket.

Another hour passed and I found myself becoming resigned to the fact that I was most likely going to freeze to death alongside the highway. I was scared to death. I started writing a short note on a piece of paper I found on the floor inside the cab. Suddenly, I saw a pair of headlights approaching my truck from the front. I got out of my truck and started flagging down the approaching vehicle. The gentleman stopped his small pickup truck, rolled down his window, listened to my story, and immediately pulled his truck around to the backside of my truck. He told me to get inside and warm up while he placed flares and reflective triangles on the road behind my truck. He climbed back inside his small pickup truck and told me that he was an off-duty Alaska State Trooper going home from working his shift. I thanked him profusely for saving my life. He had a C.B. radio in his truck and radioed ahead for a tow truck to come take my U-Haul truck to Delta Junction. He also found out that the two women never called the towing company. They left me there to die.

I sat in a cheap hotel for five days before they finally were able to rebuild the engine. I was back on the highway in the freezing cold conditions and drove all the way to Beaver Creek in the Yukon Territory in northern Canada. I woke up the next day and drove towards Haines Junction. The U-Haul truck broke down again about an hour outside of the community. Fortunately, it happened during the daylight hours and a trucker picked me up and took me into town. A gentleman drove me back out to the U-Haul truck and towed it back to his shop in Haines Junction.

It was Christmas Eve and I was supposed to be arriving at my parents’ home in Salem, Oregon at this moment in time. Instead, I was still 1,875 miles away from my destination. I asked the mechanic to take a peek at the engine to see if a quick fix was possible so I could get back on the road. He said, No. My wife and I have a Christmas Eve party to go to. She happened to be in the shop at this time and saw the tears begin to stream down my cheeks. She said, Come on, honey, it’s Christmas Eve. Please look at the man’s truck. I smiled at her and gave an appreciative nod. She smiled back. He looked under the hood for about fifteen minutes and said, You’re not going anywhere. This engine is fried. There’s a motel across the street and you can stay there until we get this sorted out. I thanked him for taking the time to look at the engine, walked across the street while the snow was coming down, and checked into the motel.

I spent Christmas alone in my motel room with my little dog, Buddy. It took four more days before the U-Haul company decided to drive in a new truck from White Horse, in the Yukon Territory. Only ninety-six miles away. They delivered the new truck and told me that I would have to unload the broken-down truck and reload the new truck by myself. I hired two local high school kids to help me during the Christmas break. Although it had snowed about a foot the night before and was about twenty degrees below zero, we managed to unload the old truck and reload the new truck before 10 pm that night. Those two young men were Canadian angels. I thanked them for their hard work and paid them well.

The next morning, I ate breakfast at the mom and pop restaurant located in the motel. When I was done eating, I got my coat and gloves on. The owners asked me, Where are you going? I said, My new truck is loaded up and I’m driving to Salem, Oregon. I should have arrived there five days ago. They said, You’re not going anywhere. The biggest snowstorm to hit this area in one hundred years is on the way. We’re going to get buried in a couple of hours. I stated, I’m a total of ten days behind schedule and I’m not going to sit around for another couple of days. I’m out of here. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality. I walked out the door, climbed into the U-Haul truck, and started driving.

Two-hours later, the snow storm of the century hit. No problem. I spent twenty years driving in the snow while living in Alaska and this wasn’t any different. However, that wasn’t quite the truth. In this area, I was driving through steep mountain roads with very tight curves that had five-hundred to one-thousand-foot cliffs alongside the road without any guardrails. At one point, while I was driving around one of those sharp corners on a steep mountain road, my U-Haul truck started sliding across the other lane. Fortunately, no oncoming traffic was in the other lane. However, my U-Haul truck continued to slide toward the cliff. I literally cried out to God and asked for help. The tires on the truck finally gripped the road with about six inches to spare before I went over the side of the mountain. I was scared to death. I slowed down and continued driving down the highway.

The Canadian snow storm of the century encompassed the entire Yukon Territory as well as British Columbia. I plugged away at the miles until I made it to Dawson Creek, the gateway to the Alaska Highway. I checked into a hotel, ordered a pizza and beer, and celebrated the arrival of Y2K with Buddy. It was quite the party. Those miniature Shelties can be major party animals. We woke up the next morning on January 1, 2000. Apparently, the computers did not crash worldwide and civilization did not collapse. Therefore, I was able to pay my hotel bill with my credit card. Miracles never cease.

After I paid my bill, I walked across the street to a 7-11 Store, bought a six-pack of Mountain Dew along with a bottle of Nodoz, consumed way too much caffeine, and drove one-thousand-thirty miles nonstop to my parents’ house in Salem, Oregon. The snow storm did not let up until I hit the border separating the province of British Columbia from the State of Washington. After twenty-four hours of nonstop driving, I arrived at my parents’ home, got out of the truck, walked like a zombie past everyone waiting for me in the driveway, went to the bathroom, and slept for eighteen hours straight. I’m sure I looked like death warmed over. That was most definitely a U-Haul trip from Hell. Little did I know what more of a traumatic experience was waiting for me in southern Oregon. A real big hairy deal.

For the next seven months, I busted my butt to build up my psychology private practice in Grants Pass, Oregon. I had to market and network all over town. I joined the Rotary Club. I attended a weekly luncheon meeting for pastors. I worked hard to get myself on provider panels for insurance companies. I advertised, advertised, and advertised some more. Finally, commuted back and forth from Grants Pass to Salem in order to spend the weekend with my family. Only to wake up two mornings later and drive two-hundred miles south again to Grants Pass to do it all over. My wife and children needed to live with my parents until I could generate enough income to provide for our own home in southern Oregon. My hard work paid off and success came quickly. After school was out in June, my wife and children moved south to join me in Grants Pass, Oregon. We finally settled in and boy was I ready for a break. It was time to play with my wife and children.

On July 1, 2000, I found myself enjoying a beautiful Saturday in southern Oregon with my family. My wife and I decided to take our three children on a tour through the Oregon Caves. We drove from Grants Pass, Oregon to the Oregon Caves National Monument Park. What a beautiful drive through Josephine county. The last twenty miles were on a very curvy road that ascended the mountain leading up to the caves. When we arrived, we ate a lunch at a picnic table in the warm sun. The kids were excited to be able to take a tour through the caves. The last time I had taken a tour through the Oregon Caves was eighteen years earlier while on a honeymoon with their mother. The tour was everything the kids had hoped it would be. Except it was a lot colder than they anticipated.

Once we completed the tour of the Oregon Caves, we immediately started hiking the Big Tree Loop Trail on the other side of the Visitors Center near the Gift Shop. Although the trail was 3.3 miles long, we didn’t think it was a big deal because we had taken our young children hiking in Alaska all of the time. Actually, we were excited because we knew that we no longer needed to worry about running into Grizzly Bears while out in the wilderness. We could finally hike in peace.

The scenery was incredibly gorgeous. We were hiking through tall trees which were surrounded by beautiful plant life on the forest floor. The elevation of the hike is approximately one-thousand-one-hundred feet. The trail also crossed through meadows and ultimately brings the hiker to the widest girthed Douglas Fir tree that one can find in the State of Oregon. About one mile up the mountain, we came across a horrid smell that was blowing down the mountainside from above our position. All five of us smelled the putrid odor that was as strong as a skunk but it wasn’t a skunk. The aroma most definitely grabbed ahold of one’s olfactory bulb and ripped it right out of one’s head. We all acknowledged the pungent smell and continued hiking. It didn’t concern us because we knew it most definitely wasn’t a Grizzly bear. Therefore, no worries.

As we continued to ascend the mountain, we started hearing a strange noise paralleling our movement. It was a deep, base, mammal, guttural noise that sounded like Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. When we would walk, the noise was made. When we stopped, it was silent. When we walked again, the noise was made again. When we stopped, it was silent again. All five of us acknowledged hearing the sound. We were puzzled and could not figure out what was making the noise. We weren’t scared because we knew there were no Grizzly Bears in Oregon. Therefore, we had nothing to worry about. After some time, the noise stopped. We weren’t smelling anything or hearing anything anymore. The kids, ages 5, 7, and 9, needed to take a brief break. They were doing a great job as always.

I started putting one and one together in my mind and my biological fight or flight responses kicked in. I concluded that we were being stalked by something large. I just didn’t know what it was yet. I stopped my family on the trail and I told them to stay quiet. The kids used a stick to play with a bug on the trail. I hiked up the hill to our left, through the brush and trees, because I had to go number two as soon as possible. This happens when the biological fight or flight response kicks in.

While I was doing my duty, I was scanning the woods down-slope on the mountain on the other side of the trail from where my family was standing. That’s when I saw it. I saw it come out from behind one tree to the left and walk in an upright bipedal manner to another tree to the right. Then it looked back and was watching my family where they were standing on the trail. My wife and kids did not know that they were being watched.

I’ve hiked through the woods in Alaska numerous times and believe me, I know what a Grizzly Bear looks like and I know what a Black Bear looks like. What I saw was not a Grizzly Bear or a Black Bear. What I saw actually walked upright on two legs like a human and it was much taller than a Grizzly Bear or a Black Bear. It had to be at least nine to ten feet tall. What I saw was a Bigfoot, otherwise known as a Sasquatch.

I pulled up my pants immediately. I literally felt the cognitive schema in my head collapse. Everything I knew about the great outdoors came crashing down. I just saw Bigfoot walk off the pages of myth and legend into reality. Then I felt my brain reboot and my protective instincts kicked in. I walked fast down through the brush and trees back to the trail and got my family moving up the mountain immediately. At first, they were in no hurry to move along. I asserted myself and got them to start moving up the trail. They knew that something wasn’t right because of the way I was behaving but they didn’t know what or why. I decided to move them up the trail, rather than back down the trail, because I sure as heck wasn’t going to take my family right back through the area where the Bigfoot was spotted.

At that moment, I chose not to tell my wife or children what I saw because I didn’t want them to panic. The adrenaline was rushing through my body and I was very hyper vigilant. I was constantly looking behind us and through the woods. Although the sound had stopped, I wasn’t convinced that we were out of danger yet. My heart was pounding fast and I was scared to death.

We hiked a couple hundred yards and around a switchback. When we reached a place where the kids could stop, I sat them down on a fallen log to rest and drink some water, I pulled my wife aside and told her that she wasn’t going to believe what I saw. She asked me what I had seen. I told her that I saw Bigfoot and she said, I believe you. Of course, she believed me, she had smelled the smell and she had heard the repetitive audible cycles of Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. She knew that I wasn’t crazy. She had also spent decades out in the Alaska wilderness and knew that we weren’t dealing with a Grizzly Bear or Black Bear.

My mind was racing as I maintained my hyper vigilance. I quickly came up with a game plan. I told her to keep the kids hiking on the trail and that I would stay back about fifty feet while keeping my eyes on what was behind us. I told her that if anything came up from behind us or through the woods on the left side of us down the slope, that I would run interference to protect them. I told her that if this happened, I wanted her to run the kids along the trail, don’t stop, and don’t look back. We agreed not to tell the children because we didn’t want to panic them.

I was very frightened for my family’s safety. Also, I knew that if I had to run interference on my family’s behalf, that I would not last very long. What I saw was taller than an NBA player and more buff than an NFL football player. Although I stand six feet nine inches tall and weigh three-hundred-thirty pounds, what I saw could have picked me up, crumbled me up like a wad of paper, and thrown me away. As I previously stated, the Bigfoot I saw had to be nine to ten feet tall. Also, I’m guessing it probably weighed somewhere near one thousand pounds.

Although the situation was tense, fortunately, we never heard the sounds again and I never saw anything after that. We finally made it to the Big Tree near the other end of the loop. The kids wanted to stop and check out the Douglas Fir tree that had a forty-foot circumference and was approximately eight-hundred years old. Nevertheless, we had to move them along. We finally made it out of the forest about one and a half hours after our encounter. The longest hour and a half of my life other than when I was freezing to death inside the U-Haul truck alongside the highway in the middle of nowhere Alaska. At least this time I was warm. We sent the kids into the Gift Store to pick out a gift because we had promised to buy them something if they were good hikers and didn’t complain. They were super kids.

My wife and I sat on the bench outside the Gift Store and talked about the pros and cons of whether or not we should report what we smelled, heard, and saw. I had just worked hard for six months to build up my private practice. We didn’t want to lose business because people would think that I was crazy. Therefore, my wife said it was up to me. I decided that I wasn’t going to keep this a secret because it was real and I knew that I was sane. Also, if we had seen a black bear or cougar up on the mountainside, we would have reported it to the Rangers for the safety of other hikers. Why was this sighting any different?

After the decision was made, my wife went into the Gift Shop with the kids. I walked over to the Park Headquarters and reported what I saw to NPS Ranger, Beverly Cherner. I sat in the chair in her office, stunned, and then I began to cry. All of the emotions that I had been stuffing due to the adrenaline began to surface now that my family and I were safe. You don’t know how vulnerable I felt being so far out in the woods without the ability to protect my family in that kind of situation. Due to National Park rules, I wasn’t allowed to carry my handgun like I normally did while we hiked in Alaska.

I gave Ranger Beverly Cherner my private practice business card which identified myself as a licensed clinical psychologist. I told the her that I was not crazy. I told her that I have two master’s degrees and one doctorate degree and that I was an intelligent person. I told her that I know what I smelled, heard, and saw. I told her that I had been a resident of Alaska for twenty years with plenty of outdoor experience. In between the tears and my shaking, I told her that I saw Bigfoot. I expected her to roll her eyes and smirk at me. Instead, she said that she believed me. She said that she didn’t think I was crazy. She stated, Dr. Johnson, we’re discovering new species on our planet all of the time. Anyone who thinks that we’ve discovered everything that is living on our planet is practicing arrogance. I found her words to be very comforting to me. I really needed to hear that.

She took my story, my wife’s story, and my oldest son confirmed what the noise sounded like. I was the only one who saw the Bigfoot because I had hiked up off the trail high enough to see it. The Bigfoot stood approximately nine to ten feet tall. It looked half-human and half-ape, walked upright and bipedal like a human, and had very dark hair. A mix of very dark brown and black hair. It had a protruding brow ridge and a cone shaped head. The arms were longer proportionately when compared to the length of human arms. It took a while for the image that I saw to settle in my mind.

We left the Oregon Caves National Monument Park late in the day. While we were driving back to Grants Pass, Oregon, the kids were asking what was going on. My wife said, Oh nothing. Daddy just saw Bigfoot. The kids went crazy in the back of the car. They responded, What’s a Bigfoot? They pelted us with one-hundred million questions. Most of their questions were left without answers. I was a newbie to the Bigfoot phenomena. I had no idea how to respond to their questions. We eventually tucked them into bed, said our nighttime prayers, and kissed them good night. Then I drove to my private practice office to type up