The time had come. My husband and I had taken one year to plan a special trip to the New England states for our 35th wedding anniversary; our first time RVing. We prepared for our Bigfoot adventure by deciding to invest in a Zoom H-6; a sensitive microphone, portable with recording capabilities. Common sense concluded the odds were greater to catch the sound of a Sasquatch rather than see one. Perhaps high-vision infrared night goggles would be on our Christmas list for our next excursion.

After setting up camp at Lake George, New York, I decided to walk my dogs. The hairs on my neck stood on end. My “sixth sense” intuition kept me on alert. I was unsure what this “squatchy” feeling might bring; realizing I was in the middle of the Adirondacks.


That night, the microphone sat at the foot of my husband’s sleeping bag in the recess of the pop-out section of our trailer. I was positive we would get a hit. Just outside our RV, I could see and hear a family with children enjoying time around a camp fire. Further away, the valley we were in, created acoustics for the travel of sound that would crescendo and bounce off the sides of the mountains. As I prepared for bed, I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t believe it! I heard a wood knock, then a series of approximately five “whooping” sounds.

“Did you hear that?” I asked my husband who is hard of hearing.

“No.” He said shaking his head.

In disbelief and with a smile I reported, “I hope you have the recording going because I am hearing some very interesting sounds right now!”

I was excited and took several hours the following night to go through the recordings and realize we had captured what we consider the whoops of a Bigfoot. Sleep was difficult; the overbearing feeling of being watched by an unseen presence reeled in my head. I found the sensation unnerving.

The thought of seeing a Bigfoot is like that feeling I used to get as a kid when I would suck in my stomach, hold my breath and be as quiet as I could be. Peeking my eye through the slit between the wall and the frame, I hid behind the door during a game of Hide and Seek so that my brother couldn’t find me. He would be standing right there; close enough to feel my breath on his ear. I felt my adrenaline race; overwhelming excitement and fear at the same time. I tried so hard not to move or make a sound. Not knowing what would happen next was excruciating; unbearable!

That same sense of suspense and unpredictability is what it feels like on the road in the middle of national forest country where the expanse of trees is endless and no signs of humans can be found between small towns. I held my breath expecting Bigfoot to step out onto the road and cross in front of my truck at any moment. On our way to our next camping sight in Vermont, my husband made me aware we would be driving right through one of the “Squatchiest” places documented. Driving through White Hall, New York was a highlight for my husband and me. We reminisced about the 1976 encounter police officer Bryan Gosselin had in the same area.

Although I have a keen interest in Bigfoot, traipsing around in a stark, black forest in the middle of the night with a flashlight and knocking on trees is not my idea of fun. But, my dream of encountering this creature came true on the day we drove our 16-foot trailer up to Portland, Maine. Little did I know; this also was the location of an annual Bigfoot conference attended by several infamous names in the B.F.R.O. community.

There it stood; 8-to-9-feet tall, covered in rusty orange-brown hair just staring at me. Intimidated by its size, I noticed something human, yet not when I looked into its eyes. But then, there were so many other bizarre cryptids my husband and I were able to enjoy that day at the Cryptozoology Museum as well; such as Mothman. I was satisfied that at the museum, I could experience standing right next to the Bigfoot creature that fueled my imagination for most of my life.

Taking an adventure trip like this makes Bigfoot’s presence become real when camping in the dark of night, in a sleeping bag in the depth of the woods, listening for the rustle of a branch, an unexplainable “whoop” or the thud of approaching footsteps. The lure of the unknown draws upon the deepest instinct in us of endless possibilities. Perhaps in Bigfoot’s world, we become the cryptid creatures, curious enough to explore. Who knows! We may stir the imagination of Bigfoot.

Kat Helms writes from Taneytown.