Upcoming Guest: Alaskan Bigfoot Encounter (2024)

Listener writes “It was Spring of ’83, and I was 12 years old. My Dad and Mom decided to return to Alaska from Colorado after living there for a couple of years, and Dad was determined to finally live out his ‘mountain man’ dream of living in remote Alaska.

Dad heard of an old abandoned lodge on Lake Tyone, which is on the Lake Louise system not far from the town of Glennallen. Lake Louise empties into Lake Susitna, which empties into Lake Tyone, and Tyone empties into the Susitna River. We had a canoe, and Dad wanted to go check it out before contacting the owner about working out some kind of deal to buy or rent.

So, my Dad, younger brother Jim, my Mom’s fearless poodle/beagle/Heinz 57 mutt Bo, and myself hopped in the canoe one morning and took off paddling. It was about 20 miles, and it took forever, but finally we arrived.

The lodge was in pretty sad shape, bowed in the middle from years of neglect, but it was intact and could be livable with some repairs. There was a very unpleasant smell, something none of us had smelled before, but we chalked it up to the swampy tundra. Sometimes tundra / swamps have weird smells for whatever reason.

The lake narrows right there, and directly across we could see an abandoned village. The map labeled it as Tyone Indian Village, but there were just 3 or 4 collapsed ruins of old log cabins. Still, it was interesting and when Dad finished inspecting the lodge, we paddled across to investigate the ruins.

We stretched our legs for a bit, and there wasn’t really anything to see except the old log cabins that were long collapsed, but behind the ruins there was a well-worn game trail that went up a low ridge and disappeared into the trees. Dad told me to take Mom’s dog, Bo, and go see if there was any more cabins or anything up the trail.

So Bo and I trotted up the trail, and it wound around to the left. The ridge trail was very nice, and went about a quarter mile before letting down into a swamp. The trail still showed promise, so we continued. The foliage on either side got very thick, to the point were I couldn’t see more than a couple of feet on either side, and the bushes were taller than I was, so all I could see was the trail under my feet.

Suddenly, that smell that we’d encountered at the lodge was overpowering. It was enough to make me wince and wrinkle my nose. It was a musky, oily, funky smell and deeply unpleasant. We were about halfway across the swamp, and the trail was starting to peter out, but it was still decent.

Then Bo, who was leading the way in front of me, stopped and froze, looking off to the right into the thick bushes and began quivering with excitement, sniffing intently. I came to a stop, watching him and waiting to see what he’d decide to do. The way he was silently quivering told me he’d detected something and he was extremely excited about it. After about 10 seconds, I whispered, “What is it, Bo?”

And then Bo launched into the bushes, full charge and sounding off with his pursuit bark. He was fearless in chasing any animal – bear, moose, caribou, squirrels, anything. But his favorite was chasing bears and I judged from his excitement level that it was probably that. Time for me to go.

So I tore off back up the trail, running back to Dad and safety, and I could hear Bo’s pursuit yelp growing fainter as I ran up the small hill out of the swamp. I knew from his receding barking that he was doing his usual routine of chasing the offending animal away from his kids, so I skidded to a stop and looked across to where Bo was, and I saw it.

There was a very large creature, sprinting up the hill on the other side, with Bo biting his heels with every step. I had a good reference with Bo right there, and this thing was 9 or 10 feet tall. It was pumping it’s arms like a human, and the dark brown hair covering it’s body was 4″ – 5″ long. It was massive and very heavily muscled… unbelievably muscled. It didn’t look over at me, as it was focused on getting away from the insane dog fearlessly biting his heels. It was looking down, concentrating on running and foot placement. They were really moving. Bo was very fast and he was about his speed limit as they sprinted up diagonally to the right from me.

I took all this in, dumbfounded, for probably 5 to 10 seconds, and then I really hit the turbos, sprinting at top speed down the trail back to the lake and my Dad. Monsters aren’t real, that’s what we’re told as kids and I’d just seen one.

Dad saw me coming, and raised his rifle to cover me, thinking I was being pursued by a bear. I reached him and was completely out of breath, but still trying to tell him I’d just seen a bigfoot.

He had me sit down and breathe, while watching the trail – but of course, nothing was coming down the trail after me. Finally I blurted out what I’d seen and what happened, and he gave me a smile – he didn’t believe me. He said I saw a bear or a moose or caribou.

No. I knew what all those animals looked like. And none of them ran on two legs fleeing a dog. He reconsidered… he knew that I knew what a bear or moose looked like.

So I took him back up there to prove to him what I saw, because I knew roughly where the bigfoot had been inside that swamp, roughly triangulating from where Bo departed into the brush and their line of travel when I saw them running up the hill on the other side. I knew there would be tracks in that swamp.

Plus, none of us wanted to lose Mom’s dog. That was unthinkable.

We pushed our way through the brush where Bo had departed the trail, and found large indentations where something big had walked. Unfortunately, the muck where it had been standing was that black, mucky swamp floor that doesn’t hold a shape, it’s just black muck. But the smell was overpowering where it had been. We followed the shapeless tracks where it exited the swamp to where I’d first seen it running, and the terrain went from the black muck to firm terrain that had a thick coating of leaves.

I was crushed. But the track indentations and the smell, combined with the strides told Dad that this was no bear. Whatever had made the tracks was bipedal and was taking 6′ strides. The leaves were clearly disturbed but there were no clear footprints left as it sprinted up the slope.

We called for Bo, but we didn’t hear him barking. I feared the worst – he’d chased countless bears and always returned unscathed because he was so fast & nimble, but this was something else entirely. Usually he’d chase them away until he determined that we were safe, and then break off the chase. Sometimes they’d realize they were being pursued by a small dog and wheel around to fight, and he’d disengage when that happened – he was savvy about this game of his.

We returned to the canoe at the lake, calling every couple of minutes, and finally after about 45 minutes Bo appeared on the trail on his way back to us. He was extremely pleased with himself, like he always was after chasing off a critter to protect us – but he stunk. REALLY stunk. It was the bigfoot we’d been smelling, faint at the lodge, but very strong in that swamp and Bo was absolutely putrid, especially his head because he’d been biting it. Clearly the source of that horrible smell was the bigfoot.

We put Bo in the lake, and tried to wash that smell off. Water didn’t do much to cut the smell, and he was absolutely unbearable to be around. Skunk has nothing on this particular odor.

So we paddled back to the truck, Mom and the rest of my siblings, with Dad downwind of Bo in the canoe, cussing at how horrible that dog smelled. Bo was feeling pretty unloved and didn’t understand why Dad was so pissed at him. The old man was almost gagging.

We arrived and told the family what had happened, and Mom took a bottle of Dawn dish soap and worked Bo over in the lake about a dozen times, and he still reeked. It was a lot better, but you still couldn’t stand to be within 10 feet of him. He spent the next few days outdoors, letting him in the camper was not an option. After 4 days or so and countless baths, he was tolerable.

Dad sat me down and told me never to tell the story of what I’d seen. I asked him why, and he said he didn’t want people to think we were crazy. We ended up living at the lodge for a year, and then moved to Talkeetna. The smell lingered around the lodge for a couple of weeks but faded away. I suspect it had been curious about the lodge and had been hanging around there prior to us arriving.

I’ve only smelled that smell one other time, very briefly, in Talkeetna about 5 years later, but never saw anything like that again. I’ve spent most of my life wandering remote Alaska, and have seen some remarkable animals, from Barrow to Kodiak, Nome to Ketchikan, buzzing around in helicopters and planes as a Telecom Journeyman constructing and maintaining comm systems for a living. I’ve been observant and watchful, and haven’t seen another.

I can’t explain what I saw, it doesn’t make sense that one hasn’t been captured or shot. All of us wander around in jetboats, aircraft, and snowmachines armed with HD video cameras in our pocket and firearms but no one has produced a good clear vid or shot one. It just doesn’t make sense. But I saw what I saw, that’s burned into my memory vividly.

I would love to hear someone give me a logical explanation, but there is no large animal that runs away from anything, up a hill, pumping his arms like that in North America.”