THE BIGFOOT CHRONICLES

By Christopher Montgomery

The weather is idyllic today. I just washed the dishes that I'd collected after the noon meal.

The tent has finally dried out after the last rainstorm. It was hot today, in the mid 80s. Beads of perspiration began forming on my forehead. A cool breeze blew through the window-flap of my tent. It was a relief.

Anything you had on hand, had to be packed in. One had to be wise about how much one was willing to take, especially if that meant you had to carry it. Out here, you were on your own. Whatever you did, you had to do yourself. That included packing any water that you might need. It had to be carried in by hand. Water was recycled whenever possible.

The meals that I'd brought were meals that were ready to eat (MREs). They were so bad that you needed extra water just to slosh them down. There's a pond not more than 20 feet from my tent. But I wouldn't wash anything in it nor would i recommend drinking it, either. But wild animals are another story. This was their watering hole and its where they came at the end of a long day for their refreshment. Especially after an unseasonably warm day like today.

My partner had gone to the store for supplies. We weren't far from civilization. Supplies were only just an hour's hike away. I knew that he would return well before dark. It was too dangerous to hike in after sunset. We had quite a bit of sunlight remaining, so I figured it would be several hours before he returned.

So here I sat on my sleeping bag. It was around 3:30 when I heard him coming down the trail. I thought "Gee, that's strange, why is he back so soon? The footsteps were those of a man, which grew louder as he drew closer. It's too big for an animal, I figured. Besides, what animal walks on two feet? As he approached the clearing, I called out. I asked how he was doing. No reply. I called him by name. Once again, there wasn't any reply. I thought, hmmm, if it wasn't Ted, then who was it?

I got up and walked to the door. I threw open the flap to the tent. Much to my surprise, there wasn't anyone there. My mind raced. I had just heard someone coming down the trail. I knew I did! Unless that was a ghost, or something. Given the direction they were traveling, they couldn't have gotten very far. There was a swamp on the other side of the tent-site. I didn't hear anyone mucking about. I could rule that out. The footsteps ended at the campsite.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I looked again, and there wasn't anyone there. So here I was, in a remote area of Washington State. I hadn't any weapons for my defense. And something just walked into my campsite and then vanished.

There were signs of Bigfoot habitation no more than 15 feet from where I sit. It's called a Bigfoot nest, which in this case means a hollow formed in the brush. The first thing that you notice was that it was made by something big. It was crude but effective. When your objective is to stay dry and warm, a hollow for a nest can make those winter rains seem a lot more tolerable.

This was one of my first encounters with Bigfoot. The encounters would continue.

Please stay tuned, for the naked truth about Bigfoot will be revealed in my next message. Just remember where you heard it from. The Bigfoot Chronicles by CJ Montgomery can be found at this website: http://uforc.com.