Camping

Around 2016, a seasonal cannery worker from Dillingham named Jesse utilized his week off to execute a solo catch-and-release silver salmon trek along Silver Salmon Creek, hiking from the Aleknagik Road culverts down to the Wood River mouth. Setting up an 8-inch skillet camp cookstove on a hard bank slough, Jesse heard a series of heavy 'woof' grunts that he initially attributed to a stray dog. While casting into a deep pool, an absolute silence dropped over the drainage, and Jesse spotted a large chocolate-brown mass crouching across the channel just 20 meters out.

While house-sitting a rural property north of Glennallen along the Richardson Highway to protect against localized equipment theft, a married couple named John and Betty jackknifed their 16-foot fifth-wheel trailer across the driveway entrance, placing their camper a mere 100 feet off the primary asphalt road. While returning to the rig at dusk after utilizing an outdoor fire pit behind the main house, they were unsettled by a low, non-animal gurgling throat-clear emerging from the foliage.

Around 2019, a first nations hunter named Jack and his less-experienced partner, Eric, executed a remote catch-and-release style caribou hunt via single-man kayaks, launching from the Maclaren River bridge off the Denali Highway down to the Tyone Creek confluence. After pitching pop-up tents on the river's west bank, they awoke to an absolute, deafening silence that dropped over the tundra canopy. Proceeding on foot down a game trail through heavy morning fog, Eric spotted an edge-of-vision dark shadow tracking them.

In the summer of 1978, a seasonal Tongass National Forest service worker named Eric and two colleagues executed an un-armed exploration trek up Powers Creek inside the tracy Arm-Fords Terror Wilderness within the Endicott Arm fjord system. After a peaceful first night, a thunderous, multi-octave shriek erupted from deep within the inlet canyon lines at midday.

During an autumn gold prospecting trip, two first nations brothers named Ivan and his sibling navigated their 18-foot Lund skiff as far upstream as possible into the headwaters of the King Salmon River, north of the Nuyakuk confluence. While meticulously searching the bank cuts for gold-bearing quartz veins, they pitched a light spike camp using a Coleman cookstove. On their third night, a terrifying vocalization that sounded exactly like a woman being murdered erupted from the opposite bank.

Retired teacher Mary had an experience with a few friends at the Kennecott Mines about 15 years ago.  After setting up camp, they decided to hike up the mountain to check out the back side.  After her friend whistled some TV theme songs, they heard the songs whistled back to them.  They called out, but no response.  As they're walking back to camp, they heard the songs whistled back again, as well as some movement.  Mary suddenly stopped and saw a Sasquatch about 10' away, standing about 9' tall.  As she let out a half-scream, she had a sudden sense of calm.

A share from Rick, who had an encounter while on a four-day backpacking trip to spread ashes of his mother in a mountain range in the Yukon that she loved.  On the first night of his camp, Sasquatches began to try to smother his campfire while he stepped away to take a leak.  He saw someone moving in the trees and thought it was a person.  He shot into the air, and as his ears were ringing, he saw the Sasquatch standing behind the tree about 30 feet away.  When he shot again, he heard two sets of footsteps running away.

While investigating an active beaver dam system on the Kings River, the channel researcher and his companion, 'Squatch Bait,' documented complex engineering in the form of multiple, multi-cut tree trunks and a submerged, canopied beaver tunnel. Transitioning to a specific encounter site marked by orange surveyor tape, the researcher noted the exact location where a local witness named Daniel observed a large, dark-brown figure squatting on a log segment that jutted into the water.

Ten years prior to 2022, two brothers, Jim and James, began constructing a remote 5-acre cabin cabin in the interior of Alaska, south of Fairbanks and north of Wasilla. During the building phase, they experienced recurring bear-like encroachments, forcing them to adopt a hyper-vigilant 'two-person always' security protocol. While James was left alone at the cabin to overnight, he began hearing a persistent 'click-click' sound originating from the walls of the windowless log shell.

On site at Eklutna Lake where Coloradans Douglas and Trina, had an encounter a few weeks ago.  While enjoying the camping, they heard a scream across the lake they thought could be a cougar, even though they thought it was too loud.  Soon after that, they heard another scream from the other direction that was moving towards them.  They quickly jumped into their kayaks and left.

Two shares, the first a retired fish and game biologist that had an experience ten years ago off the Mulchatna river while gathering data on salmon with three others, where they realized what they at first thought was a person exiting the freezing cold river was a Sasquatch they estimated to be over 10'.  They later met up with a group of observers who didn't believe them at first, but did later after they had an encounter, topped off with screams.  When both groups tried to relay their experiences to a fish and game trooper, they fell on deaf ears.

Greg, who lives in Europe, used to spend a lot of money to fly his dogs and equipment to Alaska to participate in the Iditarod.  About five years ago, while training a few months prior to the race, he and fellow team members stopped a few miles outside of Rainy Pass to camp out in an area with multiple available cabins before continuing the next day. That night, his dogs were huddled together in fear and kept moving around the cabin away from something outside.

Chad, a cyclist who'd over the years travel to Alaska for a long-distance cycling event, became a recipient of typical Alaskan Sasquatch behavior while setting up a camp to take a break during his trip a few miles north of Trapper Creek.

Mark was camping with his family off the Matanuska River back in 2020 when they heard a scream and loud splashing in the river.  After he saw it in the water, they had sunlight and used it to pack up camp and leave.  He has not camped since.

Jesse shared his encounter from May of 2022 that took place at the Granite Creek Campground on the Kenai Peninsula. Like so many who experience these encounters, his love for camping is completely ruined.