What it's like to be stalked by a Bigfoot

Lori Simmons' new book will be out sometime within the next week. The title of her book "TRACKING BIGFOOT" was started by her father and it was his dying wish to let others know what he learned by publishing his book. "Our father Donald Lee Wallace was man who lived in the North Cascade Mt. for the past 30 years. He tracked Bigfoot for the past 28 years. He lived off the land and appreciated each day God gave him. My father battled cancer for many years. I believe that due to the years of living in the Mt. and a trapper before that made him an expert when it came to reading the woods," said Lori.

"I was so amazed myself when we went hiking in the same areas as our Dad. I have to say tracking Bigfoot is addicting. The rush you feel every time you find evidence or even better when they let you know your in their territory."

Here's an excerpt from the book where her father had a possible encounter in the woods. In it, Wallace wrote about a strong fear that overcame him while tracking a sasquatch in the Marblemount, Washington area. "I’d had my share of jumping out of airplanes, while in the 11th Airborne, combat in the Korean War and other stuff, but to stay was the toughest thing I ever forced myself to do. There was that strong feeling of being very close to death if I stayed," wrote Wallace.

An excerpt from "TRACKING BIGFOOT" below:

To hear Bigfoot mentioned is not uncommon in this part of the Northwest. In fact, a number of young, as well as older people have knowledge about it and have heard some of the wild screams, different from mountain lions or anything common in this area. Some people have recognized their sign and some have seen it. I have interviewed five people who have seen six Bigfoot over the past 27 years, and the most recent was Mid July of last year, 2008—all in the Marblemount, Washington area.

Marge and I were both anxious to go back up where her dogs got “freaked out.” We didn’t have a clue what to expect—maybe nothing, but we were going prepared for anything, just in case.

We put our backs against a huge fir tree and I tried one of my callers that imitates a jack rabbit in distress, but I vary it to sound more like a young deer. This has been successful for me in the past with calling in mountain lions.
I used to do outdoor articles a long time ago on hunting and fishing. It included calling in predatory animals. One was in Western Outdoors Magazine and the others were in Fur-Fish-Game Magazine. It took place in the late sixties and early seventies in Ohio, California and Washington.

STALKING ALONE

I went back into the same wilderness area where Marge and I had gone the day before, where she and her dogs experienced some frightening stuff prior to that.

This time, though, I decided to move very slow, stopping periodically to carefully look around, slowly moving my head from left to right. I picked my way around dry sticks or anything that would be noisy. I ended up back at the small, broken tree, and then I shoes a grown-over depression, heavy in short foliage, to just sit and wait for awhile. I chose this depression so I’d be less conspicuous. Almost right away I heard a noise down the slope from me and distant. I thought there must be somebody in there. Pretty soon I heard another noise off to my right, and now was another sound behind me, not very pleasant!

The wood-rapping sounds were more occasional and not constant. I tried to carefully see threw the brush and trees in hopes of getting the ultimate picture, my main goal right now.

Suddenly my uneasiness worsened. I could feel the hair starting to raise on the back of my neck. Also, I could feel the vicious stares from some giant anthropoid unbeknown to me. It was worse than the time I called in a mountain lion, crouched ten yards behind my back. There was no comparison from the mountain lion stares and these stares—I have since referred to as laser eyes.

I try to take pride, and in the past had bragged a little about being fearless, but these piercing stares followed by a strong feeling of grave danger was pushing it.

There was a sense of urgency to get out of there right away, but I chose to “tough” it out, and I’d do almost anything to get a good picture. I’d had my share of jumping out of airplanes, while in the 11th Airborne, combat in the Korean War and other stuff, but to stay was the toughest thing I ever forced myself to do. There was that strong feeling of being very close to death if I stayed.

As the knock sounds got louder, it sounded to me like wood hammering on hollow wood. It did have a distinctive hollow sound, and I also wondered if some of the sound was emitted vocally. I strained my neck and my eyes trying to see something, my small camera ready, but I saw nothing.

I decided it was time to draw my short 9 m.m. pistol. And here again, I had no intent to use it and had no desire to harm anything unless it was a life or death situation—right now I wasn’t sure. It was, however, a comfort and a feeling of security once I got the 9 m.m. in my hand.

What followed was totally unexpected. The knock-like sounds ceased. The aggressive stares were gone; The danger, I felt sure,was gone. I could finally relax. I heard a few more knocks-like sounds but more distant, and in a few minutes it became very quiet again.

It was time to leave and head back to my truck. I took my time, and the slow walk in the fresh mountain air was invigorating, and I was feeling much better, but still very excited inside, and still somewhat shaken from my wild experience. I felt like I had been watching one of those wild, horror movies, only I was in it.

WRITTEN BY DONALD WALLACE

[via: trackingbigfoot.wordpress.com]