Introduction
Greetings, dear reader, and welcome to
this 27th article, under the topic section “Appalachia
- Upper East TN.” My story is set in the region. Yes, it's a
true story. The above citation,
from Google Maps, marks the approximate location of the knoll.
The inspiration for this article
came to me, on Friday the 13th, 2023, as the next section explains.
The context of life was the 2023 Israel-Hamas war, which Hamas
started, on 10/7/2023. It's ongoing. This man of peace prays for
peace. On that Friday the 13th, the annual Heritage
Days Festival started, in my hometown, Rogersville, Tennessee.
Also, that evening, the Rogersville High School senior class of 1978
held its 45th reunion (counting the graduation year as our first
“reunion”). The reunion was at the Davidson
Farm / Country Store, beginning at 6 PM. Once again, the start
time was too late, for my wife and me to attend. Finally, thoughts
were on my mind, about the birthday, the next day, of our niece --
the youngest daughter of my youngest brother and his wife. She
attained age 14. Interestingly, an annular solar eclipse occurred, on
her birthday (source: “2023
Annular Eclipse: Where & When,” on NASA).
This is my true story.
The article begins with further elaboration on its inspiration.
Afterward, my story
is presented in written (this article) and verb (the embedded
podcast) media formats. The conclusion is up to you, dear reader.
Inspirations
for this Article
Initial Inspiration
My good friend, Jim, is mentioned
favorably, in the first
and second
articles, of 10/24/2021. The subject line of Jim's 10/12/2023
email is “'Bigfoot' caught on camera in Colorado?” His email
included only a link, with no comments, to the following article:
“'Bigfoot'
caught on camera during couple's romantic getaway in Colorado:
Shannon and Stetson Parker shared videos and pictures that they claim
prove Bigfoot's existence” (on Fox News, by Chris Eberhart,
10/12/2023). About halfway into the article, it states:
The pictures and
videos from a moving train are the latest blurry visuals that some
people claim proves
Bigfoot is real.
On
Friday the 13th, I read the article, saw the photographs, and watched
the videos. That was the initial inspiration for this article.
Childhood
Inspirations
Childhood
inspirations for this article are at least two.
The one minute Patterson film tops the list. I've watched it several
times, since my childhood. It's still featured on television shows
that are about Bigfoot. Online viewing, of seven frames, is available
at “Patterson-Gimlin
Film: Original title: Bigfoot,” 1967 (on IMDb.com).
Grade
school friends and I saw the 1972 movie “The
Legend of Boggy Creek,”
at the Roxy Theatre, in my hometown. (The theatre is gone now.) The
movie frightened us, especially since we did a lot of backwoods,
overnight camping. The official trailer, just under two minutes long,
is viewable at “The
Legend of Boggy Creek” (on
Legend of Boggy Creek).
(The movie can be purchased on rented, on YouTube.) I had purchased
the movie, on DVD, several years ago. My wife and I watch it, about
once a year. It still bothers me.
Ongoing
Inspirations
The
first two ongoing inspirations are the television shows “Finding
Bigfoot” (on Animal Planet) and “Expedition
Bigfoot” (on Travel Channel). Mrs. Appalachian Irishman seems
to enjoy watching the shows with me. She never says, “Not
another Bigfoot show!” The remote stops on those shows,
whenever I catch them, while browsing through the thousands of
channels, with nothing much to watch. The shows are somewhat
interesting and don't bother me. The evidence presented is often
sketchy.
The rather personal and ongoing
inspiration, of course, is my own story. The written version is
next. My spoken version follows afterward. It's a true story.
My Written Story
The First Friday
It was a Friday, in late September
of 1977, the start of my senior year in high school. The
location was in northeast Hawkins County, Tennessee. Bill and
Randy, two friends, both my age, lived a few miles away. Those two
friends, Bill's younger brother, my younger brother (closest to me in
age), and I camped out overnight more times than I can count. We even
camped out in winter, after it had snowed. Those were some rather
memorable cold nights and mornings!
A buddy named Gary, my age, lived
closer by, in the Sunset Hills subdivision. (He passed away, two
years ago, at age 61.) Gary had never been overnight camping. He was
interested in a young lady, Helen, who lived farther back and near
the woods, in the same subdivision. Gary wanted me to take him
camping, on the knob that was high above and far behind her house.
Apparently, Gary wanted to prove his devotion to the young lady. I
had agreed to take Gary overnight camping, on a Friday after school.
The knob was on land that Randy's
family owned. Neither Randy nor Bill wanted to camp with Gary and me,
but Randy's parents allowed the two of us to overnight camp, on their
land.
The early evening weather was mostly
cloudy and warm, as Gary and I started hiking up, north, through the
woods, to reach the knob. We needed only T-shirts, but we carried
light jackets. The ground was dry, since it hadn't rained in days. We
hiked up to the ridgeline, which ran west to east. The narrow trail
up to the ridgeline had been made, over the years, by Randy's family.
We called it the main trail. We'd reached a flat and fairly open
spot, on the ridgeline, where Bill, Randy, and I had camped before.
From that ridgeline location, Gary and
I continued west (or left) and hiked up a short and steep distance,
to reach the knob. At the knob, the mountain sloped sharply down on
three sides (to the south, farther west, and north). The short,
steep, and narrow trail, from the ridgeline to the knob, had been
made by bears, deer, wolves, foxes, and other animals. We called it
the animal trail. The Dublins, as locals called the thick and hilly
woods, were behind (or northeast) of the ridgeline and knob. Hunters
spotted bears, in the Dublins, at times. Bill, Randy, and I had
overnight camped in the Dublins before. At night, we thought that we
saw deer eyes, near our camp. The next morning, we saw bear tracks,
in the damp ground, not far from our campsite.
Dusk began to fall quickly, once
we'd reached the knob -- the highest point of the mountain. We
started to set up camp, just south of a large tree. The ground was
fairly flat there. Nearby, several large rocks protruded from the
ground. A large fallen tree was about fifteen yards to the east of
and below our campsite. (We'd passed that fallen tree, to reach the
campsite.) I had unrolled my sleeping bag. Gary had unrolled my
brother's sleeping bag, which he had borrowed. We didn't set up my
tent. We put on our light jackets. I got out my cooking kit, the
food, and gathered fallen branches, to start the fire. Dry leaves on
the ground made good fuel also.
Not long after I'd struck the match
and started the kindling, Gary and I both heard the sound. “What
was that?” -- we both whispered, as we looked, in surprise, at
each other. Crouching beside the slowly building fire, we remained
silent, listened, and looked around. We could see trees, branches,
rocks, and the fallen tree. Darkness had fallen. The moon,
still mostly full, would come and go, as the clouds passed by. The
moon was behind a cloud, at the time.
We heard loud, deep, gruff, and
growling sounds. It was like heavy breathing, being taken between
steps, when something large is walking. We could hear footsteps, in
long strides, between the sounds. The steps sounded like a
two-legged, not four-legged, mammal. At age 17, I had hiked and
camped in the woods often enough, to know how a four-legged animal,
such as a deer or a cow, sounds, when it's walking or running on dry
and leafy ground. The sounds and steps were slowly approaching us,
coming up the same trail that we had been on, to arrive at our
campsite. We heard what we
heard. We could not see what was making those sounds. The
entity was still several yards below us and to our east.
The mammal,
still breathing gruffly, stopped, about fifteen yards east of and
below us, behind the large fallen tree. We could hear whatever it
was shaking nearby tree branches or rustling leaves on the ground.
The being moved a few feet to the north, which was to our left, as we
faced the fallen tree. It was now behind a large rock outcropping. It
remained there for a while, still breathing gruffly and shaking
nearby branches or rustling leaves.
Gary asked, “What should
we do?” I said,
“Let's roll up the
sleeping backs. I'll pack up the food.”
We did. The entity was still behind the rock outcropping, making the
gruff sounds, shaking tree branches, and rustling leaves. My backpack
always included a small bottle of kerosene, to use to help start a
fire, if needed. I had a hunting knife, in a sheath, on my belt. I
had already added larger and longer tree limbs, to build up the fire.
The mammal, still making the gruff
noises, moved back onto the path, near the fallen tree.
We still could not see what it was. The darkness, distance, and
several tree branches blocked our view. We could hear it,
stepping slowly up and closer to us!
Instinctively,
thinking that the being would either kill me or that I would kill it,
I poured the kerosene, from the small bottle, onto the fire. That
brought up the flames. I took my hunting knife, from the sheath, with
my left hand. I picked up the largest burning branch, with my right
hand. As the entity, which I still could not see, continued
to come up and closer, I jumped forward, into the air, with knife in
one hand and fiery branch in the other. I yelled at the top of my
lungs! When I landed, about ten
feet farther and down from where I'd jumped, I realized that I hadn't
died or hit anything.
A
steep and deep ravine was below and to our southeast. Gary
and I heard, after I'd landed, the entity running, in long strides,
on two legs, as it sounded to me, down into that ravine. We could
hear tree branches snapping and leaves crunching, as it ran. The
being stopped. We couldn't see it. It remained silent. It was no
longer making the gruff breathing sounds or shaking anything. The
forest turned completely silent.
I whispered to Gary, “Let's
get out of here.” Using
my flashlight to help us see the trail, Gary and I hiked, with our
gear, very quietly and slowly, east and down, to the main ridgeline.
I was cupping a hand over the flashlight, so that the light would not
be too visible. At the main ridgeline, we turned south (to our right)
and headed down, to come out of the woods. The forest was completely
quiet. We could hear only our breathing and muffled footsteps, as we
hiked slowly and quietly. We didn't speak to each other. The
moon had been behind clouds all this time.
Gary and I reached what I call the
lower camping spot. It was a
small and level clearing, not too far into the woods. Bill, Randy,
and I had camped there often. The trail from the ridgeline, down
which we had hiked, was now behind (or north) and above us. The
ravine, down into which the unknown mammal had run, from the knoll,
was just west of us. We wondered if the entity was still there,
silently near us. The clouds parted. The nearly full moon
shined brightly. We could see
better, by the moon light.
I affirm
-- to the Good Lord, before Whom I will stand on judgment day, and to
you, dear reader -- that Gary and I both saw, far behind
and above us, on that ridgeline, where we had been, a tall and bulky
figure, standing upright, on two feet.
It did not move. We were relieved that it wasn't near us, in the
ravine. Cold chills came upon me. We could make out what appeared to
be two legs, a large torso, two arms, broad shoulders, and a head.
What seemed to be two eyes appeared to glow green. It was not a tree
that looked like such a figure, to our frightened imagination. Trees
were visible and very distinct, around that figure. The figure was
not a tree. It seemed, from that distance, to be staring at us.
Gary and I turned
away and hiked south, quickly, back to where his car was parked, near
Randy's house. He drove me home. He went home. Mom and Dad were
surprised that I'd returned, since they'd expected me back the next
morning. I told them what had happened. They were thankful that Gary
and I had not been hurt. I went to bed.
The
Next Few Days
I don't think that I saw Bill, Randy,
or Gary, until the next week, at the high school. Gary and I didn't
talk much about our experience in the woods. We did exchange what we
remembered. Our memories were identical. Gary said that he'd never go
camping again. We lost touch, after high school graduation, and he
passed away a couple of years ago, so I don't know if he ever did or
didn't.
I'd shared the experience, with Bill
and Randy. Bill accepted my words. Randy made fun of it. I challenged
them, especially Randy, to camp out, at the flat and fairly open
spot, on the ridgeline, where we'd camped before. I did not want to
return to that knoll. I've never been back to it.
Bill and Randy agreed that we could
camp out that coming Friday, after school, on the ridgeline campsite.
We did.
The Next Friday
That next Friday, Bill's younger
brother and my younger brother (next to me in age) joined us. There
were five of us. Randy brought his pistol. Chidingly, I asked him why
he'd brought his pistol, if he didn't believe what I'd told him.
The temperature was still warm enough,
so we didn't pitch tents. We built a fire that faced the north slope
of the ridgeline. We lined up our five sleeping bags, in a row,
fairly near and south of the fire. The knoll was up and to our west
(or left), as we faced the fire. No one wanted the spot closest to
the knoll. I took it.
The evening camping routine started. We
used our cooking kits, to make supper, from the food that we had
brought with us. It was some type of beef and bean stew. It was good.
We ate well.
In the darkness, we talked and kidded
with each other, as teenage boys do. The sky was fairly clear. The
moon light was better than the Friday before. We were enjoying
another overnight camping trip. Randy, at times, asked me, kiddingly,
“where's the creature?”
Suddenly, amidst our conversations,
all five of us heard the same loud, deep, gruff, and growling sounds,
like heavy breathing, that Gary and I had heard the Friday evening
before, on the knoll. The sounds came up from far below us.
Whatever was making the sounds was at the bottom of the ravine, down
around the steep north side of the ridgeline. We also heard the
sounds of tree branches shaking and leaves rattling.
We already had a good fire going. We
added more wood. I poured the kerosene, from my small bottle, onto
the fire. It looked like a bonfire. We were in a clear area, so we
knew that we would not start a forest fire.
The five of us remained silent, as we
listened to the growling and branch shaking sounds. Eventually, the
sounds stopped. I don't recall how long we had heard them. It was
several minutes. We never did hear anything walking, as Gary and I
had. We did not hear a howl, on
either Friday evening.
We determined that it was safe enough,
to spend the night on the ridgeline. Each of us, in turn, took watch,
while the others slept. None of the five of us ever heard the
disturbing sounds again. It was gone. Randy turned from skeptic to
believer. He accepted the story, about the experience that Gary and I
had, the last Friday, on the knoll.
Early the next morning, we fixed our
breakfast, packed up our gear, and hiked back out, to Randy's house.
Our camping group never did camp on the ridgeline again.
As the years went by, I lost contact
with Randy. Bill and I keep in touch. He still asks me, at times, if
I remember the experience that the five of us had, while camping on
the ridgeline, that next Friday. My younger brother and I rarely talk
about the experience. When we do, we both remember the same details.
My Verbal Story
Over the decades, I've shared both
encounters with family and several friends. I don't seek
opportunities to share it. It comes up in conversations. For a week
each summer, from 1982 to 1984, I served as a counselor, at Hillbrook
Christian Camp, near Knoxville, Tennessee. Occasions arose to
tell my story, to several of the boys and adult counselors.
After Mrs. Appalachian Irishman and I
were married, we served as counselors at Bootheel
Youth Camp, near Bloomfield, Missouri. It was one week, each
summer, from about 1986 to 1993. Again, as others told their campfire
stories, I told my story. From year to year, boys, who had heard my
story the previous year, asked me to tell it again.
I don't seek opportunities to tell
my story. It bothers me to tell it. I still get cold chills, when I
tell it. I've felt cold chills, while writing about it, in this
article.
The verbal sharing of my story, on
Appalachian
Irishman - Podcasts, is “My
Bigfoot Story: Yes, It's True (published 10-18-2023; episode 21).”
I tell it in a more natural style, than in my written story, above.
It's just over 30 minutes long.
I
recorded my verbal story, in my home office. I'd wanted to hike House
Mountain, to record it from the middle bluff. The weather was
seasonably warm and clear, with a crisp blue sky. Molly, our ol'
puppy, who is age eight, however, was favoring her left front leg. I
decided to remain at home, so that I could tend to her. She seems to be
better! She's back to running around as usual.
Conclusion
Thanks, Jim. Your 10/12/2023 email
inspired this article and embedded podcast! I'll reply by email, to
your email, once this is published, so you can know.
This is my true story.
I call it my Bigfoot story, since I don't know what else it could
have been. I've thought that it could have been a bear, but bears
don't run upright, on two legs. They do stand, on two legs, at times.
I've thought that it could have been a large man, who was in the
woods, on both Friday evenings. The loud, deep, gruff, and growling
sounds could have been a bear, but they didn't sound like any man,
whom I've ever heard.
My
mind is still open. Sufficient evidence appears to indicate that
Bigfoot (Sasquatch, Yeti) may exist. I may have heard one, in a close
encounter, and seen it, from a distance -- back in September 1977.
The conclusion is up to you, dear
reader. What do you think that it was?
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