WBS March

Western Bigfoot Society
Portland, OR
3-3-2012

The first thing I appreciated about this Saturday evening meeting was that the drive from my Tri-Cities, WA home down the Columbia River Gorge and to Pattie’s Homeport Restaurant in northwest Portland, a distance of precisely two hundred and thirty miles, was the beauty of the day. Although

windy, the sun shone brightly on my path making the Columbia River, with its wind driven white caps, literally sparkle in brilliance. This early in March, new grass was not in evidence through the prairies and desert of the eastern half of the journey, but, just a few miles west of the small town of Boardman, home of a major grain shipping terminal, I rounded a curve and was thrilled with the

sight of Wy’east in the Indian language and Mt. Hood in the predominant tongue of the region looming large on the western horizon. At 11,250 ft, this stratovolcano lies quiescent today but is one of the most likely of the string of such peaks that stretch from northern California to Canada in the Cascade Mountain Range to erupt.

The truly remarkable thing about this scene was that the 12,280 foot Pahto or, more commonly, Klickitat… Mt Adams in our language was also in brilliant sunlight off to the north of this vista point. Their sister, Loowit, now truncated to a mere 8800 feet after the terrible eruption of 1980 lay unseen in the depths of the Cascades just thirty one miles to the west of Klickitat. This triangle of stone, Wy’east to the south, Loowit to the

north and west and Klickitat to the east form a triangle far more mysterious and foreboding that the more famous triangle which lies off the eastern coastline of the U.S. And… Today… it was all in sunshine! While this is not an uncommon event later in the year, it is highly unusual for the Department of Tourism to have all three erected and visible so early in the year! All too often, it is late April or even, sometimes May before the western peaks, Mt. Hood and Mt. Saint Helens appear in the midday brilliance.

I was blessed for sure as the beauty of this land unfolded before me as I lumbered quietly west at seventy plus miles per hour in my modern covered wagon. A summer fire had bared an area of now greening grass near the mouth of the John Day River (named for an Astor man who had lost his mind and died in the wilderness in the teen years of the Nineteenth Century). On this

impossibly steep bluff overlooking the river, fed a small band of Bighorn Sheep. In the barely few moments I was allowed to view them, I saw no large rams, nor did I expect to see any as they would all be off in their own bachelor bands at this time of year. This band was all ewes and last year’s lambs but still very impressive to see. I saw no pronghorns today, but there were mule deer there. Traffic was light, as usual through this remote stretch of the Pacific Northwest and I completely enjoyed my leisurely drive through God’s great creation.

With only a short Pit Stop to drain the body and refill the drink cup at Biggs Junction, the approximate halfway point on my journey, I continued on… making that remarkable transition from desert to temperate forest in the less than twenty miles that separate The Dalles, OR from Hood River, OR…ever west until I arrived at my destination precisely three and one half hours after leaving my home. The amazing part of this trip is that the actual half way point is, as mentioned, at mp 104 on Interstate Highway 84, Biggs Junction, but the mental dividing line for me comes near mp 10 on that same highway. The

last ten miles of I 84, three miles north on I 5 and seventy three blocks west on Lomard Street from I 5 Exit 305B are crowded, dangerous and downright crazy at times.

I am amazed that people can be so ridiculous in their driving. It is like they are possessed by some kind of demon that controls their very psyche. I witnessed, in that short stretch, some twenty miles in total, more near misses caused by people darting in and out of lines of traffic in some inane effort to be “first” than I did on the preceding two hundred and ten miles combined.

I arrived early enough to enjoy a leisurely meal of a very well made hamburger and fries with a diet cola and conversation with the staff of this tiny oasis in a desert of humanity. The company was convivial with people, as they arrived, introducing themselves and expressing pleasure at meeting me or seeing me again, a phenomenon that I still find disconcerting. First to arrive was our host, Mr. Ray Crowe, one if the grand men of Sasquatch research in the U.S. and the Pacific Northwest. Ray started his queries back in the dark ages. I teased him that he and the first Sasquatch were contemporary so it made it easier to commune with them.

The speaker for the March third meeting was Mr. Henry Franzoni. I’ve heard Henry speak before. It was last June at the Oregon Sasquatch Symposium and I was greatly intrigued by his knowledge and approach to the Being we call Sasquatch. Henry is a self proclaimed math nut and computer geek. He is, by trade, a Fish and Game analyst for the four major Indian tribes of the Intermountain Northwest, to wit, The Yakama Nation in Washington, the Warm Springs Nation and the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation in Oregon and the Nez Perce Nation in Idaho. As such, he travels extensively in these areas.

Henry began his dissertation with an acknowledgement to the WBS founder, Ray Crowe and made note of the fact that, being a dedicated geek, he worked with Ray and created the FIRST Sasquatch internet website ever in existence. At a time back in 1993, when there were less than five hundred websites in the total of the world, one of those was for the Western Bigfoot Society.

“We must remember this,” Henry stated dramatically enough to cause me to draw my pen and abscond with my neighbor’s (unused) napkin to make a note, “we are not investigating science, we are gathering Intelligence on a foreign species.” Henry continued: “Sasquatch is far too intelligent to be experienced in the normal way. You cannot get him into a Lab”

“You know crows as a group,” Henry stated, matter of factly, “but you do not know them individually. To us, every crow pretty much resembles every other crow in existence but the inverse is not true. Crows know us individually. In order to survive, they have to know which of us will provide them food and which will attempt to take their lives. It is essential for their very survival to understand the individuality of persons.”

This brought a thought to my own mind.  Many years ago, I had a friend, Gary, who had a friend, Brad, who hunted crows. One day, Gary and I happened to be in the general vicinity of his Brad’s rural home. We watched from my truck as a flock of crows flew in the general direction of Brad’s home only to suddenly turn ninety degrees and fly well off course from the house. After flying well beyond shooting range from the house, the flock of crows then turned back ninety degrees to resume their original course of flight. Those crows knew who lived in that house and they knew when they were in danger.

Henry then resumed his discourse… “Sasquatch are like crows in that they know who we are, individually, that come into their realm. They respect the level you are on. You will see what you are ready to see and no more. If you are ready to see a Sasquatch cross the road in front of you at night, that is precisely what you will see. If you are ready to see a shadow in the timber, that is what you will see… if you are ready to see a tree peeker peering around a tree in the forest, once again, that is what you will see. But, if you are ready to handle a face to face visit, prepare yourself well, for that is what is coming. Bear in mind please that Sasquatch can either bring couples together or he can split them apart by their very appearance to that couple. Rest assured, whatever you are ready for, they will make a difference.”

I must amend that slightly to warn people that one should not seek to meet these magnificent beings unless the person is ready to accept the fact that they are LIFE-CHANGING in their scope and their power. My own teacher, Akanneesha is very, very powerful. He is so powerful that I cannot be in his physical presence but minutes as he so enervates me that I could not walk away from him if I tarried longer. Do not ask for this boon unless you are ready to accept the consequences. Many of these consequences are positive, but, I must say that there are negatives too. I love the friends I have made, but I’d be as happy if no one knew what I happen to have learned of my hirsute friends… We are Homo sapiens sapiens… Wise Man… they, I feel are Homo sapiens hirsutii… the Hairy Wise Man.

Henry, a man of science far beyond what any of the “coalition” can claim concluded his discussion of the evening with a word to the “science only” community: “If we were investigating a worm, we could use the ‘scientific method’… Sasquatch is too intelligent to be empiricized. The Indians know a lot more about Sasquatch than science knows. And science still refuses to entertain the fact that they might know something of value. To the Chinook, he is Seatco… to the Chehalis he is Sasquatch.. to many other nations, he has many other names but they all mean the same thing… he is merely another tribe. He is not mysterious, evil or threatening, he is simply ‘Brother’… nothing more, nothing less.”

In Henry’s unique position with the four great nations, he hears much, but it is always prefaced with, “this is not to be shared with the white community…” it is felt they would not Respect nor Protect the Skookum Man… our large elder brother… it is my prayer that we do so with a great and enduring vigor.

Respect & Protect