Two friends have been camping in a specific area in Southern California for several years. They have had a few odd incidents, later realizing that they most likely had a Sasquatch near them.
The following account was recently forwarded to me:
"It’s been many years since this happened to me and I had originally thought a mountain lion was the cause of it. But now I am not so sure about the mountain lion.
In the early 1990’s my best friend and I went camping. It was the weekend before Memorial Day and we were camping at a small campground off the road between Lake Castaic and Lake Hughes in Southern California. The first night was so annoying due to all the gang bangers from LA showing up and making noise all night that we packed up and left on Saturday morning. I had heard about a place called Sawmill Mountain from one of my co-workers and it was close by, so we headed up there.
Sawmill Mountain is off the road between Lake Hughes and Gorman and to get there you need to travel several miles from the turn off un-improved dirt roads to the campground. When we got there it was mid-day on Saturday and we were the only people in the campground. The elevation was about 5000 feet and it was nice and cool up there with a nice view of the valley down below. It was a great campground.
We pitched our tents and set up camp, then ate some lunch and sat down to relax in the shade. My buddy went inside his tent and took a nap and I went to my tent and did the same. After a short nap I decided to do a little exploring. About 25 yards from our campsite was a trail and I walked on it for about 150 yards.
Off to the side of the trail, along the tree line, I heard something moving and looked in the direction. I thought I caught a glimpse of something light-colored, but it stopped moving. I was still in Condition White and didn’t think anything was wrong. So I kept walking a few more yards.
I was noticing that the wild flowers were blooming everywhere and enjoying the views when all of a sudden, I began to think of that movie “Predator” where the monster could see people, but they couldn’t see him. Then I noticed that everything had gone absolutely quiet. No insects, no birds chirping, nothing. I did a 360-degree turn and didn’t see anything. I guess maybe the sudden silence had triggered some primordial fight/flight response in me that made me think of that movie.
Anyway, I was armed at the time with a Smith & Wesson 10mm and I made sure I had my hand on it. The gun gave me absolutely no comfort whatsoever. The feeling of dread and despair was so immense that I felt panic. I felt frozen in place for a few moments. Then that little voice in the back of my head kicked in and said “get out of there NOW!”
I didn’t run because all I could think about was a mountain lion and running would make it chase me. I couldn’t see what was watching/stalking me and you can’t shoot what you can’t see. I started calling out to my buddy as loud as I could and walked quickly back to camp. Even after I got back there I still felt pretty freaked out. My buddy was there drinking a beer and I told him what had happened.
“While you were napping in your tent I did the same thing,” he said. “I felt the same way you did.”
I have never felt a feeling of dread like that before and haven’t since. It was so powerful it was crippling.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. Some a-hole in a Subaru Brat came up and drove around the campground like he was in the Baja 500 around sundown, but nothing else happened. It was a great place to camp, but neither of us went anywhere alone.
We’d been back several more times for weekend campouts with larger groups of friends and nothing odd had happened. Then one campout, with the same buddy a couple years later, something happened.
Once again, we were the only two up there. I think we’d played hooky from work and gone up mid-week. Anyway, we had a campfire going and had just polished off a couple of thick rib eyes. I believe it was summer at the time.
I was telling my buddy what a big wall of flame a 10mm would produce and he says let’s see it. So I shot off a magazine from it. As predicted, lots of flame and noise. I holstered the gun and sat down by the fire.
“You remember that creepy feeling when we first discovered this place?” my buddy says to me. I said that I did. “It’s back.”
I didn’t pick up on it this time, but he did. We both had our guns out and flashlights in our hands and my buddy thought whatever was causing it was watching us from beyond the camp. We walked toward it, shining our lights up in the trees thinking it was a cougar or bobcat, but there was nothing. About 10 yards from camp, all of a sudden, something growled at us.
I won’t repeat what my buddy said, but we high-tailed it back to camp as quick as we could. When we got there we lit every lantern we had and threw a bunch of termite eaten pine wood into the fire to get things as bright as we could. That night was a tough one to sleep through, but nothing bothered us after that.
Fast forward to about 3 weeks ago. I was talking to my buddy by text message about what we’ve been calling “the Ghost of Sawmill Mountain” and I had said I thought it was a mountain lion. What he said blew my mind.
He is pretty sure it was a Sasquatch that day, many years ago. He pointed me to a bunch of Bigfoot websites and I did some reading and, I have to say, I’m starting to agree with him. From everything I’ve read, they stay close enough to us that they can keep an eye on us and, unlike the hippie view that they’re the gentle guardians of the forest, they’re actually an apex predator.
I think on that day, I was either on the menu or had made the thing mad by scaring off what it been after. I also think the growl a couple of years later was a gentle reminder to stop making so much racket in its territory and stay in our campsite.
Also, I found out that the Pacific Crest Trail that runs from Mexico to Canada through California, Oregon and Washington cuts right through the Sawmill Mountain campground. And the websites that track Bigfoot sightings have had a few in the general area. I live in Arizona now, but I’d like to go back there some day to look for evidence of stick structures and other signs.
Anyway, that’s my story." BP
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