Searching for Sasquatch

  Living just outside of Portland, Oregon, Connor Deschutes and his family had always enjoyed the great outdoors.  Connor had spent three years in the Boy Scouts earning a dozen merit badges in that time.  His father, Oliver, was an avid fisherman, spending the weekends in his motorboat out on Lost or Bull Run Lake hoping to snag trout or bass that populate most of the lakes throughout the state.  

On the weekend that would make Connor famous, he was out camping with his Boy Scout troop near Mount Hood.  His scoutmaster Victor Kennisfield was spinning old campfire stories about the legendary Bigfoot around their evening campfires.  

“Yessir, he was bigger than a grizzly bear with teeth as sharp as razors and fire red eyes, I knew we were in for it. The Cherokee call him Tsui ‘Kalu and he is known as a man killer.  So, when we saw him, we were really scared.  And then he let out a shriek that made our blood curdle.” Victor told this story as his troop of wide-eyed scouts sat around the campfire listening to each word as if it was gospel. As he completed his tale of the legendary Sasquatch, the light of day was sucked out of the sky as the woods became pitch black.  

A couple of raptors screeched from the safety of their perches in the pine trees making the unsuspecting scouts flinch. Among them, Connor sat cross legged, eagerly soaking in every word of his scout master.

“Hey Vick, you laid it on kinda thick.” Joel Pusick, the assistant scoutmaster, noted when Victor finished his story, and the boys began to disperse from the campfire.   

“It was all in good fun.” Victor chuckled as he leaned back in his fold-out chair.

“Yeah, but I saw some of the kids were freaked out by your extraordinary descriptiveness.” Joel shrugged as he watched the boys filter on back to their tents that had been swallowed up by the darkness.  They had all become nothing but moving shadows. 

“It was my initiation when I was a new scout.” Victor sniffed.

“Did they even have electricity back then?” Joel tilted his head.

“Wise guy.” Victor shook his head.

Mr. Kennisfield?” A voice sounded from the shadows.

“Yes?”

“I’m Connor Deschutes.” He coughed.

“Connor.” Victor smiled as he tried to remember who Connor was. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering…” Connor shifted from one foot to the other. 

“What were you wondering?” Victor’s face was lit by the dying fire.

“Is Bigfoot real?” He was finally able to find the words. 

“As real as I am to you.” He answered.

“Really, Victor.” Joel shook his head as he chuckled. “Hey there Connor, you have my wife for your Geography teacher.”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Pusick. She’s really nice.” Connor smiled.

“I’ll be sure to tell her that you said that.” He laughed.

“BigFoot is real, son.” Victor interjected. 

Connor’s eyes grew wide as he walked away.

“Was that necessary?” Joel sighed. 

When the morning came the sun peeked through the trees.  The boys stumbled out of their tents and made their way to where Mr. Pusick had set up a buffet line with pancakes and bacon.  Victor stood shoulder to shoulder with the younger, taller man as they placed pancakes and two slices of bacon in each of the boys’ mess kits. 

“What a beautiful morning.” Joel declared.

“Beautiful morning to see a Bigfoot.” Victor nodded.

“C’mon Victor, give it a rest.” Joel shook his head.

“You may not believe this, but back thirty years ago when I was a Boy Scout, we spotted a Sasquatch in a clearing.” He put two pieces of bacon in a boy’s mess kit.

“Are you serious?” Joel chuckled.

“From me to that clearing over there.” Victor pointed.

“What did you do?” 

“What could we do?  We just stood there as still as statues.” He offered a crooked wry smile.  

Connor heard this as he waited to receive his breakfast. 

“I wish I could see one out here in the wide.” He whispered to himself.

“C’mon Deschutes, step it up.” One of the boys behind him in line griped. 

“Sorry.” He held out his mess kit and received his breakfast.  The open bottle of Maple Syrup for the pancakes was at the next table.  Connor took the bottle and squirted the sticky syrup in a puddle on top of his breakfast. 

As soon as the scouts had eaten and cleaned up the area, Victor took them on a hike along the easier trails near Mount Hood. The trails were heavily wooded.  Realizing the hazards of such rugged terrain, Victor Kennisfield held a troop meeting around the campfire that was now just charred pieces of wood from the night before.

“Remember when we are on the trail, even though it is clearly marked, we must stay together. It is easy to get lost and there are wild animals that will harm you if you come across them.” He folded his arms across his chest and made sure to do a quick headcount to make sure there were no stragglers. “So, patrol leaders, I want you to make a list of your patrols and have them to me in fifteen minutes. The quicker I have these, the sooner we will begin our hike. Scout Master Pusick will tell you about the trail.” Victor concluded as he handed out slips of paper to the patrol leaders.  There were five patrols in the troop which averaged eight boys per patrol.  Some patrols were less, because the boys assigned to the patrols were not able to make the campout for various reasons.  It was essential to know who was assigned to each patrol before scurrying off into the woods.

“All right boys.” Joel addressed them, “We are going to hike Bobcat Trail which is one of the easier trails out here.  It is approximately six miles, and we should be back at the campsite by lunchtime.  I want to stress the importance of staying together since this is a heavily wooded national forest area.  There are places on the trail that will let you have a breathtaking view of Mount Hood which is snow covered year-around.  There are also some places along the trail where I want you to use caution as they can be hazardous. Sprained ankles are painful making it hard to complete the hike.  Everyone should have their first aid kits with them.  Make sure you have your canteens filled with water and your first aid kits in your backpacks. Any questions?” 

A hand went up in the rear of the gathering. 

“Arty?” Joel made sure not to roll his eyes.  Arty was a frail scout with glasses he usually lost during his campouts and an inhaler for his asthma.

“Mr. Pusick, will we be encountering any Bigfeets?” He sniffed as he pulled out his inhaler from his pocket.

“No, I do not think we will encounter any Sasquatches.” Joel shook his head. “But let me stress again, there are wild animals out in the woods.  If we stay together, they will leave us alone as long as we do the same.” 

“I have the lists.” Victor said as Joel finished. 

“Good, let’s get ready to go.” Joel pointed to a clearing, “Over there is the trailhead. Form up over there.” 

Connor’s patrol, The Badger Patrol, consisted of Jake Homme, Brandon Avery, Arty Winesocket, Kent Jordanian, Zack Weaver, Orlin Brockington, Darrell Ramsey and their leader Zig Rossingland. They would follow Wolf Patrol.  Most of the Badger Patrol had been on other campouts, so they were familiar with the routine, but The Wolf Patrol were made up of mostly newbies.  Following them ensured that the Tenderfoot scouts would not wander off into the woods.  Even with the sun overhead at ten in the morning, in the forest just a few yards away it was still opaquely dark.  If someone would wander off they would surely get lost.

There arose a howl.  Everyone stopped. After a few minutes the troop began to move forward again. 

“Wonder what that was.” Arty got out his inhaler.

“Probably some werewolf.” Zack chuckled knowing that this would surely spook Arty.

“Really?” Arty gasped.

“No, Zack is just rattling your chain.” Zig shook his head.

Connor loved hiking in the woods.  There were so many things to see and so many strange noises that weren’t heard where he lived.  He collected things that were interesting to him like stones with odd shapes, acorns, small branches that had broken off the pine trees, all sorts of things he treasured.  While Zig kept his eyes straight ahead, Connor was focused on the ground of the path ahead.  Usually when the hike was over, Connor’s pockets were full of stuff. His mother was always unstuffing his pockets when he returned home as she put his filthy clothing straight into the washing machine. 

“Connor, what’s this?” She would ask as she delicately held the item between her two fingers as she grimaced. He would tell her matter-of-factly, but even with the gained knowledge, it did not always make her feel any better. “Connor, dear, you must leave the stuff you find in the forest in the forest.” 

With his eyes focused on the ground, Connor saw blood. Seeing this made him stop in his tracks.  He bent down, putting his knee on the ground.  The leaves were covered in blood and there was a trail that led to the woods. Filled with natural curiosity, Connor continued to follow the trail until he smelled something very foul. 

When he finally looked up his heart nearly came to a complete stop. 

Sitting on a fallen log was Sasquatch and it seemed the creature was in some distress. The sasquatch looked up and saw Connor.  He let out a ferocious growl.  Connor stood there frozen in fear until he realized the blood had come from the hairy beast.  His long hair covered hands were clutching his knee and Connor could see the sasquatch’s hair on his leg was matted with blood.

“Are you hurt?” Connor wondered out loud.  The sasquatch let out a mournful sound as if he was in pain. “Can I have a look?”

Though he was covered in black hair all over his large menacing body, the sasquatch clearly had distinguishable facial expressions. He looked sad and hurt by his apparent injury.  Slowly Connor approached, but the beast just sat there whimpering. 

“Let me see it.” Connor pulled out his first aid kit and unwrapped some gauze. “Pull you hand away.” 

He would not do what Connor was telling him. Frustrated, Connor demanded, “I can’t help you if you won’t let me have a look.” 

He tilted his head and whimpered some more, but slowly he removed his hand away from the injured area.

“Aw, that’s not so bad.  You just skinned it.” He pulled out some antibiotic cream and dabbed some on the wound.

The sasquatch howled and knocked Connor away.  Connor could not believe how strong the beast was.  Shaking his head from the blow, he could see the sasquatch was sorry he had reacted so harshly. 

“You are a lot stronger than me.” Connor told him, “If you do that again, I can’t help you. The cream will sting, but it will help the wound heal.  I saw all the blood on the leafs and I thought you were really hurt, but I can see it’s not too bad.  Just let me put on the gauze.  Alright?” 

He bowed his head and then he reached out his hand to Connor.

“Alright, are you ready?” Connor looked into his eyes and could see that he was ready.  He noted that Mr. Kennisfield has exaggerated about Bigfoot in his story the night before.  The sasquatch did not have razor sharp teeth, and he was not a cannibal, because if he was, Connor would have been a snack.  

He rubbed in the cream on the open wound as the beast winced in pain, but at least he was letting Connor do it.  After he had cleaned the wound, he began to wrap it in gauze until he tied a knot to secure the dressing. 

“There, that will make you feel better.” Connor said as he put away the things in his first aid kit.

He did not expect the hug nor the strength of the grateful embrace, but he knew the intent of it.

“You’re welcome.” Connor nodded, “Now I have to get back to my troop.”

He left with a wave that the beast returned in kind. 

When he got back to camp, he told the others in the patrol about his encounter with Sasquatch.  The others sat there wide-eyed listening to every word.

“We should go try to find him.” Zig suggested. 

“It was in the woods.  By the time we get there the sun will be going down.” Arty sniffed. 

“If we want to see him, we’d better get started now.” Connor said.

“Do you think we will be missed?” Zig wondered aloud. 

“Naw, the rest of the troop is just sitting around doing crafts.” Kent shook his head.

“Alright, let’s go.” Zig ordered, “And bring your cell phones so we can take pictures of him.” 

And so, the Bader Patrol set off on their quest to find Bigfoot.  They moved stealthily to the trailhead.  It was already getting dark in the woods as the boys made their way up the trail.  Birds made a lot of racket as the boys passed by, but they were on a quest.

There was a low growl just off the trail.

“What was that?” Arty was already shaking and reaching for his inhaler.  

“I dunno.”  Kent gasped.

“Relax, he doesn’t speak, he growls.” Connor assured them.

“Are you sure?” Orlin was hiding behind a nearby pine tree. 

“Hello!” Connor called out, “It’s me, the one who helped you earlier.” 

Another growl sounded.  The pitch and tone of the growl seemed to confuse Connor, however. He was worried and it showed on his face.

“Connor, what’s wrong?” Zig whispered an aside to him.

Another growl, but this time the beast growling stepped onto the trail in front of them. It turned out to be a black bear.

“That ain’t no sasquatch.” Arty cried out as the bear ambled toward them.  He was hungry and could smell that a few of the boys had snacks.  He wanted some so he stood on his hind legs and roared. 

“What are we gonna do?” Arty panicked.

“Run.” Zig blurted out as he turned to make his getaway, his foot caught a root sticking up from the ground.  He gracelessly fell to the ground.  The bear was on Zig before he could get back to his feet. “Help me!”

He was trapped under the bear. Zig could smell the bear’s breath.  It was awful.  The boys screamed as they watched in horror as the bear prepared to claw and bite their leader.

From the shadows of the woods, a sasquatch ran toward the bear.  

The boys screamed again.

Connor would have screamed, but then he saw the gauze on the sasquatch’s left leg that he had put there earlier in the day.  The bear turned and growled in the sasquatch’s face.  Using one of his powerful arms, he flicked the bear off of Zig like someone would flick a mosquito from their arm before being bit. The bear flew several feet before landing with a thud on the ground.  Shaking off from his abrupt flight, the bear disappeared into the woods.

“My God, he saved us.” Arty got out his cell phone and groaned, “What?  No bars?” 

Everyone else had done the same but found that all they had were no bars. 

Connor was the only scout who did not get his phone out to take a picture of the giant savior standing in front of them.

“Thank you.” He looked up at the sasquatch.  In telling the story around a campfire later, he would always tell his listeners that upon hearing his words, the beast nodded ever so slightly before disappearing into the woods.

“Shucks.” Zig shook his head, “None of us got a picture.” 

“It’s okay.” Connor put his arm around Zig, “We’d better get back.  It’s getting dark.” 

“Sure thing.” Zig agreed, “Badger Patrol, we are going back to the camp, pronto.” 

No one disagreed.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked Zig.

“I’m a little shaken, but nothing is hurt.” Zig nodded, “And Connor?”

“Yes.” 

“Thank you so much.” He patted Connor on his back. He then called out to the rest, “Not a word when we get back.” 

There was an “Aye” in unison as they began to hike back to camp. 

“I hope one day I’ll get to go to Loch Ness where I can take a picture of the Loch Ness Monster with some bars on my phone this time.” Arty said as he put his inhaler back in his pocket.