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

Ho Nubbie 2011

Ho – Nubbie 2011
By
Thom Cantrall

The Gathering

I met my family this week! Oh, I knew were the Cadre, the core… but between 9-28-2011 and 10-2-2011, I learned what that meant.
In the far southeast corner of a difficult to reach state there lies a virtually inaccessible

microcosm of civilization largely untouched by modern technology. If you venture into that beautiful region of mystic subcultures do not expect to use your cell phone. There is internet service available to a choice few with ample funds to make it happen but forget such amenities as Wifi or other temporary access connections… they simply are not.
What are here in abundance however, are two fold… There are beautiful people and even more beautiful populations of our Primal People. Now, whether these Primal People are here in such quantity due to a gathering or if the population is universally elevated in the remote corner of Mid-America, I cannot, in truth, address for I have been here but this one time and have no experience on which to draw. The regular people had, in fact, gathered here to teach, to learn and to share.
I had been invited to share my experiences in this land of the Choctaw some months before and had flown in to Tulsa in the Sooner State where I was met by my mentor and special Sister. We rendezvoused with another pair of lovely persons and we journeyed and a bit east from the mid-American oil capitol through the land of the Creeks, the Cherokee, the Choctaws and the Chickasaws to the tiny town of Honobia, OK… how this is uttered commonly as Ho-Nubbie, I have not the foggiest idea, but, as with most such anomalia, I merely accepted it and reveled in the difference I felt here soon on. Arla shared the sights as we traveled… from

Collett Hill to Coalton Road… from the site of her first encounter with her Sasquatch to the nearly dry Canadian River. I saw one such great river that, if one were to attempt to fish it, that one should expect to catch more than sand shrimp for there was no water!
We traveled through a geologically interesting area of low hills covered, where natural, in a low growing variety of oak tree… Black Oak I would guess but since I did no dendrological analysis, it is merely a supposition on my part. Interspersed on occasion were pines. They were a three needle pine, meaning that each leaf follicle had been divided into thirds. Due to the relatively long length of these leaves, I believe them to be long leaf pine but, again, I did not attempt to analyze them.

 

The hills, having come from the mountain west, as I would describe them are actually the roots of an ancient mountain range that had been reared by tectonic activity several hundred million years ago and have since been, with cessation of that tectonic pressure, eroded to the more lowly stature they hold

today. That said, understand these Kiamichi Mountains with bands of sedimentary rock strata and pelt of green with vistas long enough to boggle the very mind are a beautiful and exciting place to be.
It was into this new and strange biome that I, a person reared into the bosom of Redwood trees exceeding three-hundred-fifty feet in height and more than eighty feet in circumference and Douglas Fir trees nearly as tall came to share. The first thing I learned was that the altitude of the mountains has nothing whatsoever to do with the depth of one’s soul. How tall the tree is no determinant of the love and reespect that dwells in the hearts

of those gathered.
From the first minutes there in the presence of those gathered to the last lingering moments of departure… a departure no one wanted effected… I was Honored! I was loved! I was cared for! But, most importantly, I was respected. I was the eldest so I ate first. I was a guest

so I was given the first and the best… I am of limited mobility, so I was placed in the best, most comfortable seat and I was served my dinner from the loving hands that prepared it. My needs were addressed… my opinion was sought… my bed was warm… my heart was warmer.
We had no lodges, wickiups or tepees. There were no herds of ponies feeding on the silver hazed meadows… but there could have been. Perhaps there even should have been, but those days are irrevocably gone and maybe it is meet that they be so for surely, this gathering could not have occurred had those

been our only options. We were peoples from across the breadth of this land… from the far Pacific Northwest to the very end of the great Southeast… from the heartlands to the saltwaters we had gathered here. But, those days were missed.
Some months ago I came on the idea of creating a near life-sized figure of my Teacher. This idea mutated through several intermediate steps as I

discussed it with person of artistic persuasion until I met Alex Evans from far off Indiana. When she heard of my wish, she took it and began to run with it. I looked at

her work and was highly impressed by it, so I sent her ideas and we talked even more. She sketched and we talked more. We made changes and we celebrated successes.
On Tuesday, 27 September, 2011, Alex left Indiana bound for our gathering. With her rode Akanumba Akanneesha… Red Stripe… My Teacher. She had painted him in three sections, each approximately thirty-two inches high and up to forty-eight inches wide to yield a finished painting eight feet high by four feet in width at its widest point. Neither of had seen him in his entirety prior to our arrival at our gathering cabin. With the help of many, we held

him up against the cabin wall where we, for the very first time watched him come alive in his completed form.
With misted eyes, I looked at Alex with eyes aweep and we embraced. Together we had created something larger than the combination of our individual selves. I held her tightly, her diminutive self holding me even more tightly as we felt out creation consume us and meld our souls. It was at that moment that she became my beloved Celtic Sister… where she will remain from today through perpetuity and into eternity.

The Conference

Upon arrival I realized that my preplanning was not to come to fruition. There was no way for me to tap into the internet to retrieve my illustrations I had worked so hard to prepare.

Then, I suppose to accentuate that this was not to be, my laptop computer rolled over on its back with its little feet in the air, figuratively speaking. So, here I am on Thursday with no access to even my data files… A major address due in the first speaking slot after the opening remarks of the 2011 Honobia Bigfoot Conference and only the notes I have written for reference. “You paint your pictures with worlds anyway,” Arla stated…
I let that sink in far enough that I realized she was right… that in my writing I often did not

have the option of using pictures to illustrate a point and had to rely merely on the written word to convey that scene. Thus, I thought, could not the same be done by the spoken word? Immediately, I went back to my notes and determined that Friday’s presentation would probably be alright in such a scenario although Saturday’s presentation would not, as it needed the use of comparative photos to be effective in its showing.
Although my surface tension had eased, I still had concerns.. There were tensions being caused from outside by people who, for some reason or

another, wished the conference and its organizers ill will. Their physical threats were a matter of concern as well to some. I was unsure as I am usually unsure before a major address. I did not feel it required major conciliation so I ignored my discomfiture and enjoyed the evening.
Akanneesha, Red Stripe, was complete. I had used Thursday to attach the mounting hardware that would make him free-standing and he had enjoyed his day watching our

antics from his secure place in the kitchen area of our cabin. Often, I would catch my Celtic Sister just staring at him and I would move to her side, place an oversized arm around her diminutive waist just to help her in the observance of this magnificent painting. I could not believe just how wonderful he had come out. It was as if I was standing there looking at him in person!
Eventually, fatigue prevailed and my bed called. Because so many had joined us and the cold nights had curtailed sleeping out… especially for the ladies, floor space had become a precious commodity for sleepers. To do my part in alleviating the shortage of said space, I had offered the floor at the end of my bed to Alex… an offer she gratefully accepted. On this night we were both safely ensconced in

our respective beds. We had said our goodnights and had each drifted off into our own dream world.
At 3:30 am, I awoke to the feeling of a presence next to my bed. Initially, I thought it might nave been Alex enroute to or from the bathroom. As she is so completely polite, she does this by navigating her way without turning on the light. This usually resulted in at least a few bumps and thuds in the night, especially when I tried it, that were readily identifiable as to their source. This time, however there was no telltale thump or bang and I could hear the soft night sounds Alex made as she slept calmly in her bed. Instead, I felt my Teacher’s ambiance. I knew at once that my Red

Striped Friend, or his representative, was beside my bed! Immediately, since I had been sleeping on my right side, I raised my left arm straight vertically. After a pause such that I might have counted to eight slowly, I felt it… I felt my hand being engulfed in his giant hands.
I am not a small person and I have hands commensurate with my body size so to find my hand being held as I might hold the hand of my two-year-old great granddaughter as startling to me

to say the least. I gasped a small bit, I believe as I felt his grip tighten just infinitesimally and I relaxed… As I did so, a peaceful calm descended over me and I knew I would be ok on Friday. “Saturday,” he said quietly into my mind, “will be a challenge. Trust me and I will quicken your mind that you might say the things we need taught.”
At this point, I was devoid of the power to resist him. He is powerful and can be enervating. I felt him squeeze my hand slightly and I asked him if he would allow my sister to see him. “Not at this time,” he replied. “She is not prepared to know

us this way yet and it would frighten her fearfully to be awakened so. Please tell her we are pleased with the work she has done and she will be asked to do more. It is important that she be able to do so.”
I could not, nor did I argue with him. I merely reclaimed my hand as he released it, offered my profound thanks for his intervention and immediately dropped off to sleep. I didn’t get to see him go, but I was not concerned. I had not seen him arrive either so I guess we were even and I was sure that, since he had found his way in, he could find his own way out!
Friday went swimmingly well. We had arranged to have Akanneesha on stage but covered as the morning session began. As I began, I spoke of my history with the Primal People we call

Sasquatch. When I reached the point where I had described my Teacher and his role in my life, I asked my audience… about one hundred strong at this early morning juncture, if they would like to meet him. Of course, heads bounced up and down as they responded. I asked Alex Evans to join me on stage where I introduced her as the artist she is. Together, we unveiled him to an awestruck audience! The applause Akanneesha and Alex received was profound but the looks on the faces of those viewing his image was of the stuff from which legends are spawned. I watched with a kind of wry amusement as those assembled realized they were looking directly at the body representation so perfectly

rendered that had Akanneesha stood onstage in the flesh, these people would not have known who was whom… he was that well done.
My Red Striped friend stayed with us on stage for the remainder of the Friday session and all day Saturday. At every break, people took the opportunity to have themselves photographed with him. Questions were rampant and he was a total success in my assessment.

As my presentation proceeded I could, indeed, feel his push in my mind to lead me to ways around the lack of illustrations. It was to this end that, when I began to discuss Electro-Motive Force (EMF), I utilized the whole width of the room to describe the band width. By so doing, I was able to show the relationship between audio sound and visible light. We found where the broadcast frequencies lay… both AM and FM. By moving across the stage, I could point out the radar band as well as X-rays. Most importantly, we could see where the visible light

spectrum fell and then, by expanding just that portion of the entire EMF range, show how we and how animals see… and, possibly, even how Sasquatch sees his world.
We went on to describe how our Primal People mate, have children and even how they perform rituals. Amazingly, it seemed like we had but started when the timekeeper signaled that my tenure had grown short. It was not before, however, we talked a bit about the forces closing in on his world and the level of protection he needs from us to live successfully and happily. My session on Friday ended as it had

begun… with a call for respect and adherence to the message for RESPECT for ourselves, RESPECT

for others, RESPECT for the Primal People and Respect for our earth.
My time was followed by people of considerable worth. Friday’s Conference continued with presentations by Arla Willians, Robert Swain, the cartoonist and one of the funniest illustrators ever and a leading crypto linguist, Scott Nelson. Of these, I was able to partake of only a little. With the arrangement of the facility as it was wherein my table with my books and other items was

outside the presentation hall, I was called out time after

time to attend to people wanting information. Since my purpose in attending was to dispense this information, I gladly attended these people. As much as I would have loved to be able to listen to the entire conference. This was, alas, not to be.
This said, circumstances permitted such that I was able to hear much of Scott Nelson’s presentation on Sasquatch language and phonetics. Scott has spent a great deal of time studying this phenomenon and explained the genesis of his interest. “My son came to me with a request for help in choosing a

subject for a paper on one of his classes in school,” he explained. “When he expressed a specific interest in Sasquatch, we went to the web and to Google.” Scott went on to say that their search led them to Ron Morehead’s “Sierra Sounds” site. On listening to the recorded sounds of multiple Sasquatch done in 1972 and 1974 high in California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains while Ron was there on a hunting trip Scott was very impressed.

 

“This is language!” Scott told his son on hearing the recordings. He explained that what he was hearing had all the earmarks and requirements of a spoken language.
Scott was calling on his thirty years of experience in making this call. He had retired from the U.S. Navy as a crypto linguist and now taught at a Military Academy in central

Missouri. He had spent these years studying language and cryptology prior to his discovery of this new and thrilling data. Although I did not get to hear all he had to say, what I heard was fascinating and inspired within me a desire to learn so much more.
Saturday began early with a wonderful session leading up to my most awaited presentation of the weekend… a recorded interview with Dr. Melba Ketchum of the “Sasquatch Genome Project”.

of course, the presentation had barely begun and Tim Jones was asking his preliminary questions when I was again called out of the hall to answer questions as before. I was able to return just in time to David Paulides recap the interview and present data on the collection of the hundreds of DNA samples gathered.
During David’s talk and the question and answer

session of he and Scott Nelson that followed, I was impressed to make changes to my Saturday afternoon dissertation. As Scott was telling the story of his trip with Ron Morehead into the mountains, I was told by my Teacher, Akanneesha, that my planned talk would not be appropriate so I began rewriting. Since I had about sold out everything I had brought with me, I was afforded time to now write while enjoying Scott’s story of his upside down horse and all the travails that befell them on their ill-fated trek. Somewhere in the midst of his presentation, all of southeast Oklahoma lost electrical power! Like the trouper

he is, Scott continued and completed his delivery, leaving just one person to speak…
Now I knew why I had been urged to alter my data. But, with my Teacher by my side, figuratively, if not literally, I took the stage and began. My second presentation was more simple and more direct than my first on Friday had been.
We now talked about hoaxes and why people perpetrate them. The conversation went to

fakeries that had occurred and the purposes behind them. Next we talked of tracks and of track ways… of steps, strides and paces and what constitutes each. We talked about ways to identify fake prints and especially contrived track ways. Most importantly I explained the factor of Intermembral Index and why it is so important in identifying fakes and hoaxes.
Intermembral Index (IM) as taught by Dr. Jeff

Meldrum is a technique of comparing arm length to leg length and attaining a ratio of the two. I explained that in man, the ratio of arm length to the length of the leg times one hundred is Seventy-Two. In chimpanzees, this ratio is One Hundred and Eight and in gorillas it is One Hundred and Eighteen. The most important comparison for us this day was that of Sasquatch at Eighty-Four. With these data, any photo that purports to show a Sasquatch where the arms and the legs can be seen can be verified or disproved with a high degree of certainty.
We closed the day with a question and answer session featuring all the speakers and our beautiful Artist, Alex. Question were varied and came quickly and were uniformly well

thought out and well delivered. “Since we have never even found a body of these creatures, how can such data be determined,” came the question from the floor.
“No, sir,” David Paulides responded. “You have never found a body. That does not mean that a body has never been examined.”

Saying Goodbye

          It began on the drive back to our cabins. A feeling of impending gloom was present. Moods were light and joy

rampant in our group as a greatly successful conference was now history. The Tahlina Chamber of Commerce representative in charge of the festival told us it was the most successful festival ever held by them… that conference attendance was the highest they’d ever known.
Dinner that Saturday evening was greatly celebrated. The Spirit Plate was delivered with reverence and an evening of fun began. Many of our core group had departed now to their varied destinations

but some remained. By now, after days together, even those of us who had arrived knowing only one or none of the others had had time to bond. Special spirits came forth this night and our love forged a bond so tight that none would dare try to deny.
Talk lingered long that night as all were reluctant to say

good night… but good night eventually came. From a special, ritual healing of the lesions on my neuropathetic shins to raids on the refrigerator and jokes and teases among friends, the night advanced. People moved onto the night trails in the surrounding forest as they had every night, but this night to say a special goodbye to the locals who had spent their time interacting with us this special weekend until, finally, I had to retire to my bed. My roommate had chosen that time as well to make her retreat to her pallet on the floor… where

it all began again. We talked!
For hours that seemed like minutes, we shared our hearts. We are so similar, she and I. Each in our own way, we create. As such, we have very similar feelings and drives. Oh, yes, it’s not precisely exact… she paints with oils and brushes and I with thoughts and words but the result is the same… a work of love on a canvas of

life! Is there really any measurable difference between us then? Are we not two equal in our vision? I think we found somewhere during that night that Alex Evans became my sister… my Celtic Sister. She created within my heart a special, warm place where I can forever go to feel her beside me. Are we lovers? No… certainly not in this life though perhaps in another. But we are in love! Make no mistake about that and doubt it not! The petite, beautiful and talented Lady from the north is loved by the giant from the West. It seems a bit like the “Beauty and the Beast” to me, but I am never one to deny fate.
It was well past three-thirty am before we finally said goodnight and one or the other of us fell

asleep before the remainder could restart our conversation as had occurred many times prior. Night was short for sure, but that made no difference as we knew it was all we had… and it was enough!
Sunday dawned cool with a bright silver haze on the meadow… a haze that told us today, something real, something worthwhile was ending. Breakfast, lively as it was, had an atmosphere of impending reluctance about it. It seemed as though even the

inanimate things that made up our morning repast knew that the idyll had passed and the time for separation was near. Conversation, though fun and alive, held an overtone of what was soon to be.
Breakfast went, packing was completed and plans were discussed, changed, agreed upon and finalized… I was to ride back to Tulsa with Cyndi and Cathy, two people I’d really come to love, on their way home. This worked out well since their route home to Kansas would take them through the city and this plan would free Arla from the rigor of having to drive those hours north, deliver me to Tulsa International and return the hours back south to her home. She would get Alex’s now disassembled painting of my Teacher to the UPS store for me and send him on his way west. I really wanted her to ship Alex to me as well in the manner she had offered prior, but could not ask.
Then, it was time… all was loaded. There were only we gathered who remained outside our

many vehicles. The tents were but memories and the cabins were empty of all but fond reminiscences of five days of Heaven. The sun was near its apex when an unheard tone resonated in announcement of the hour of dispersal. Almost as one, we began our final good-byes.
While most of us were in a small group, there were a couple of individuals who had moved off alone… one of these, Josie, was someone I felt a special need to tell of my feelings I had gained for her. I moved in her direction as she turned to await me. As I approached her, our arms raised almost involuntarily and, at last, our hands grasped… and it was as if lightening had struck us! The knowledge was instant and we hugged tightly… words were said… and energy was shared… we held sway for only a few moments, but the effect was eternal. Tears were coursing down our cheeks as we separated, not knowing if we would ever meet again in this life, but knowing for certain that we had known each other before… and would again. With this level of emotion flowing we parted… and I moved off to the last person from whom I had to separate.
Alex had left the knot of people about the same time I had left to approach Josie and she

moved to her car to wait. One of the longest walks of my life was from where that red truck was parked, up the hill to where Alex was preparing to get into her car. As I neared her, she turned and we embraced… no words were needed… our hearts were as one and my Celtic Sister was welded into my psyche forever. We said words then… what they were is highly unimportant as it was the emotion that was important not the verbiage. We spent but a few minutes there in that emotion charged atmosphere when time on our dimension expired and we had to part. Walking back to Cyndi’s car and away from that beautiful Red-haired lady was a hard as anything I’ve ever had to do in my life, I do believe.
Indeed, I had arrived as a stranger… as much as anyone is ever a stranger to this gathering of warm, wonderful people, but I was leaving as family. It had happened. This dynamic group had taken in an orphan and made him a part of their hearts. I shall be forever grateful for this love and this loving time.
Our time was up… Honobia 2011 was complete… and five days in Heaven had ended. Thank God 2012 is only a year away.

H.E.R.O. Report

In all the years I’ve been associated with Sasquatch Research, it never occurred to me look at from THEIR point of view… My friend Beth sent this to me and I felt is was far too good to not share….

H.   E.  R.  O.

Human Evaluation and Research Organization

Interim report of Expedition 041206.

When the Sasquatch Intelligence Agency (SIA) learned that the ‘Happy Wanderer Hiking Club’ of (deleted) had planned a three-day outing to a primitive campground in area known to us as Honeybear Mountain, the decision was taken by the Investigation Committee to send a team to cover the event. The general location is in the southeastern United States (Exact location undisclosed due to the potential for ongoing investigation). Our team #3 was given the assignment.

Team Members:

Males:

Harold (me)

Herschel

Nigel

Morris

Females:

Cassandra

Elvira

All team members are experienced and highly trained researchers/investigators.

Equipment:

At times, we find it to our advantage to make our presence known to humans without showing ourselves. For this we rely on ‘The Stench’. We obtain this from Simply Nauseous InFusions (SNIF), Ltd., who make the product available in handy aerosol cans and in a number of custom blends. Our choices for this exercise were:

Females: Cass and Ellie chose “FEMME” (damp forest, day-old garbage and honeysuckle)

Males:

Herschel, Nigel and I selected “MILD MALE” (wet dog and musk with a hint of rotten cabbage)

Morris, our extrovert, opted for “BARF!” (skunk, ammonia, rotten eggs, open sewer, rotten meat,

rotten fish and gorgonzola)

All investigators also carried an aerosol can of SNIF’s tried and true “Narcissus Pheromone”.  One whiff of this odorless compound gives humans an uncontrollable feeling of ‘being watched’, causes the hair on the back of their necks to stand up and makes ‘goose bumps’ rise on their arms.

Objective:

As we have been observing humans for centuries, we believe we know most of what can be learned about them. However, we continue the program to keep pace with any improvements in their equipment and also to document any previously unobserved human characteristics. It should be noted that, although their stress levels are purposely elevated from time to time, particular care is taken on our part that no injury comes to any human during these exercises.

All investigators were cautioned that they were not, under any circumstance, to allow themselves to be photographed by humans as anything more than amorphous blobs in the wilderness. It is realized that some of our kind think it would be to our advantage to allow ourselves to appear crisply and clearly in photographs. However, we are staying with our principles. This policy will remain in effect until humans relent and guarantee us fair and reasonable compensation for our time and effort in posing for them.

Preparation:

It was known that the humans would begin to arrive mid-morning on Friday. In order to re-familiarize ourselves with the terrain and trail/ campground layout and condition, we arrived Wednesday afternoon. The area was in excellent condition so we were able to complete our preparations by Thursday afternoon leaving sufficient time for an evening of fellowship. Beginning with a rousing sing-along, we then spent the rest of the evening telling human stories and jokes.

“Why did the human dash across both lanes of the busy Interstate?”

“Because he saw Morris on his side of the road!”

(Morris laughed so hard at this that he choked and a piece of the rattlesnake he was eating came right out of his nose!)

Before dawn the next morning (Friday), Morris was dispatched to the paved road to obtain some specimens of suitably-aged roadkill for use in an experiment we wished to perform. He found several excellent samples. In spite of eating  most of them on his way back to our position, a sufficient amount remained for our purposes.

At 0930 we gathered to coordinate our first evolution.

The Arrival

At 1030 A.M. the club members began arriving. We observed carefully in order to evaluate their camp making and general forest skills.

Observed:

Fifty percent displayed average abilities

Fifteen percent received above average marks.

Ten percent were deemed to be superior.

Twenty-five percent should not have been allowed in the forest unaccompanied.

Conclusion(s):

These data conform closely to previous observations. Nothing new was learned from this exercise

The next exercise was to evaluate the human powers of observation and determine gastronomical preferences. After the campers had finished their evening meal and were gathered for informal social activities, Herschel, quietly and unobserved, made his way to the edge of the camp clearing. He tossed a portion of Morris’s properly-aged roadkill into the clearing, made a couple of bird calls and silently withdrew. Immediately, three campers (obviously avid birders) wandered to the edge of the clearing to try and determine why a Tennessee warbler was up and singing at 10:30 in the evening. They located our bait and soon all campers were gathered to examine the properly-aged roadkill.

Observed:

Ten instances of audible gagging.

Seven cases of reflux.

Eighteen ‘tossed cookies’. (Samples were carefully gathered and were submitted for analysis.)

Conclusion(s):

These data closely conform to previous observations. Nothing new was learned. Humans possess extremely weak stomachs.

We spent the remainder of the evening carefully observing the camp in order to prepare for tomorrow’s first exercise. Finally, our well-honed powers of observation and hearing paid off as Ellie and Nigel discovered a group of six males who were planning a morning hike to the top of the mountain via a remote trail. We quickly crafted our detailed plan of observation.

The First Encounter:

Our plan (like all of our plans) was simple, yet masterful. Cassie and Nigel would remain to observe the campsite while Ellie, Herschel, Morris and I would accompany the hikers.  When the humans were an eighth of a mile from the camp, Ellie and Herschel began to ‘pace’ them. (This is a maneuver in which we accompany the hikers – in this case, Ellie on the left, Herschel on the right – and remain unobserved but make no effort to conceal the sound of our footfalls. When the hikers stop, we also stop, after being careful to take one additional step to ensure that the humans are aware of our presence.) After three quarters of a mile of ‘pacing’ Herschel and Ellie reverted to the concealed/silent mode to allow the hikers to relax.  Meanwhile, at a point on the trail a mile and a quarter from the campsite, I took position behind a large poplar tree. When the hikers approached to within ten paces of my position, Ellie signaled by bird call (blue jay). I then went into a crouch, stepped into the trail, turned to face the oncoming humans, rose to my full height of nine feet and eleven inches, threw my arms into the air, did a nifty little dance step and said, “WHASSUP, DUDES?!” (Now, I realize that, due to the difference in out languages, this may have sounded like a growl. In fact, due to the enthusiasm with which I spoke, it could have been mistaken for a ROAR! But I can’t be blamed for that.)

Observed:

For an instant, time seemed to freeze as the hikers absorbed what had transpired before them. Then action began apace.  First, there were six, near-simultaneous human scat samples provided. (Unfortunately, since all humans were wearing jeans, none of these were collectable.) Then, in a shower of discarded equipment, the hikers whirled and started back towards the campsite as fast as their pathetic little underdeveloped legs would take them. Herschel gave chase but had to pull up after three strides to keep from getting ahead of them.

Meanwhile, Morris, Ellie and I took inventory of the discarded equipment:

Six water bottles

Two camcorders

Three still cameras (one film, two digital)

Five pair of binoculars

Six backpacks

Five hiking boots

Three GPS receivers

Since very little of this equipment was of any use to us, we simply noted the location of each item, the brand names and condition and left them where they lay. There were, however three exceptions:

1. Morris ate one of the hiking boots. Although it had a pleasant aroma of properly-aged roadkill, he found it to be somewhat tough and not entirely to his liking.

2. Ellie thought that the knapsacks could be modified for useful service as handbags or fanny-packs, so she retained two of those.

3. We ALL enjoyed the glazed donuts and chocolate bars. (At least those we could keep from Morris.)

After our former hikers reached the campsite, they breathlessly told their story. Their fellow campers quickly convinced them that their eyes were playing tricks and all that they had seen was an opossum. (After hearing this, all the researchers began to call me ‘Haropossum’. I became so angry, I didn’t speak to anyone for twenty minutes!)

Conclusion(s):

These data closely conform to previous observations. Nothing new was learned. Human are the SLOWEST vertebrates in the forest.

The next encounter was, as happens from time-to-time, an unplanned and spontaneous experience. Yet it was an encounter which provided more information than we have been able to gather in quite a while.

The Second encounter:

At dusk on Saturday, a female (we later learned her name was Alicia) left her campsite to answer a ‘call of nature’. Cass was in her sector at the time and accompanied her (unobserved/silent mode) on her trek. When Alicia found just the right spot and assumed the position to ‘take care of business’, Cass stepped into the open in front of her, gave her a friendly smile and uttered a low, “Whoop!” (our language for, “Gotcha!”)

Observed:

ALL investigators were extremely impressed by Alicia’s speed and agility. According to Herschel (Expedition Statistician), she covered the 109 yards back to her campsite in ten seconds flat! (This is even MORE impressive considering the fact that Alicia accomplished this with her jeans around her ankles!) At one point, we looked on in horror as she was headed directly for a large blackberry patch. If she encountered those vicious briars at the speed she was moving, she would seriously injure herself! As it happened, we needn’t have worried. NONE of us had EVER seen a human – or any animal for that matter – run across the TOPS of blackberry bushes!

Upon reaching her campsite, Alicia breathlessly related her story. Her fellow campers quickly convinced her that her eyes were playing tricks and all she had seen was a raccoon. (All researchers began referring to Cass as ‘Cassaraccoon’, whereupon she became so angry she wouldn’t speak to anyone for twenty minutes!)

An excellent scat sample was carefully collected and submitted for analysis.

Conclusion(s)/Recommendation:

After close examination of all data, we learned that Alicia’s demonstrated speed was only four percent slower than the legendary Simon (‘the Slug’) Snailfoot, the slowest sasquatch known to history. Congratulations, Alicia girl! You are now, officially, the fastest human we have ever clocked and a part of sasquatch history!

It is hereby strongly recommended that we closely study Alicia’s technique for running across the tops of briar patches. If we can master this maneuver, it could well be used to our advantage in the future.

After this encounter, we retired to the deep forest to allow the humans to enjoy their supper while we planned our next exercise, ‘The Serenade’.

The Serenade:

This event, also known irreverently as ‘The Whistle in the Thistle’ is employed as an after-dinner entertainment to reward our human subjects as much as anything else. Herschel and Ellie would observe the campsite while Nigel and Cassie would perform a serenade of whistles, whoops and howls. Morris provided percussion accompaniment with tree and rock knocking. Meanwhile I ran noisily through the nearby forest breaking large limbs and small trees. (This is NOT my favorite part of any expedition as I invariably get pine sap all over me and my hands are sticky and yukky for a week!)

Observed:

Shock                       100 percent

Awe                         100 percent

Conclusion(s):

These data are consistent with previous results. Nothing new learned.

After our performance, we again retired deeper into the forest to compare notes and discuss our next move. It was unanimously decided that nothing further of any significance would be learned from this group and it was decided to proceed with ‘Operation Termination’.

Operation Termination:

After our concert, we allowed our humans to relax and retire to their tents after a full day of activities. Then, at 1:30 a.m., all six of us entered the camp, making no effort to conceal our footsteps, and walked among and around the tents, occasionally grunting, snorting and picking up and noisily discarding various items of camping equipment. (It never ceases to amaze us that, during this exercise, no human is anxious to leave his tent and join us.) After twenty minutes, we quietly retired to the forest and took our positions to observe the humans’ camp-breaking techniques.

Observed:

The last club member entered his vehicle in forty-five seconds. The last vehicle squealed onto the paved road in four minutes.  (Not a bad time for transiting three miles of rutted logging track!) We left the tents and other equipment where they were. Morris took care of all remaining comestibles.

Conclusion(s):

Although their departure was somewhat more expeditious than the average, our observation did not significantly differ from previous expeditions.

Overall:

Some things, thanks mainly to Alicia, were learned from this expedition. However, we have studied humans for so long that there is, frankly, little left to learn about them.

We hope to have the laboratory results back within two weeks and have the final report out within a month.

Pictures and maps will be made available as Nigel finishes drawing them.

NO HUMAN WAS INJURED DURING THE COURSE OF THIS EXPEDITION. (However, there was minor to moderate suspension damage to nine vehicles during the exit phase and six mufflers were lost.) (We are still not certain as to what use the humans make of ‘mufflers’ but we find that, when they are banged together or hit with sticks, they make sounds that we find pleasing.)

/s/  Harold Harefoot

Chief Investigator and Lead Scientist