Equipment Attack, Damage, or Theft

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.

While traveling along a remote stretch of the Taylor Highway near the Mosquito Fork bridge of the Fortymile River, north of the Tok junction, an out-of-state family—parents Walter and Bernice, and their adult college-graduate son Michael—experienced an unprecedented multi-creature encounter. Approaching the bridge clearance zone at a 300-yard distance, they observed three colossal figures walking single-file across the asphalt road.

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.

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.

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.

John, a long-time trapper, had to cut short his trapping season once he realized what was stealing from his traps. As he decided to hunker down at his remote cabin until his resupply plane came through, he was surrounded by three Sasquatches attempting to intimidate him. They failed and John instead went on offense.

Stranded and broke on Prince of Wales Island after being denied logging work in 1961, Thomas and his two friends set up a survival camp in the towering old-growth timber of the Tongass National Forest. Their desperation deepened when a massive arm reached from behind a tree, ripped down the rope holding their freshly hunted black-tailed deer, and vanished into the 200-foot canopy above. Upon returning from a day-labor job the next evening, they found a towering entity rummaging through their camp before it effortlessly scrambled up a massive Douglas fir.

Back in the late 1980s, a land surveyor was hired to plot a large private subdivision in the dense wilderness just west of the Parks Highway, north of Talkeetna. Working alone with an old-school transit scope, his first morning on the job turned bizarre when he spotted a towering, neckless humanoid silhouette pacing behind the willows.

A veteran 92-year-old trapper recounts a terrifying ordeal from the twilight of his trapping career in 1984, northeast of Bethel in the remote Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta. Relying on an isolated backup cabin he typically avoided due to eerie sounds in the distance, his trapping season began smoothly—until he discovered his newly set wolverine traps repeatedly sprung and empty, reeking of a potent, musty ammonia odor.

Ron shared his experience of a terrifying encounter on a camping trip with his young daughter that occurred south of the Denali Highway. Please note, this is one of several shares where I had audio issues.

This encounter involved a trio on the Yentna River at the end of caribou hunting season in 2019 while trout fishing.

I share an experience by a photographer from June of 1999 at Nuyakuk Falls.  He no longer does photography in Bristol Bay.

I share an encounter I had with a hunting guide and his client who was looking to bag a Hairy Man after an experience he had years prior. Spoiler alert: he changed his mind.