I lived out in Gresham Oregon for a couple years (2010-2013). It is a rain drenched lush area of the state, located in close proximity to Portland. I was fresh out of high school, and eager to seek out new adventures. My friends and I are what you might call “rednecks”. Mind you not the type that enjoy watching NASCAR on the lawn sofa, but more the type that love the outdoors. Whether it be fishing, hunting, camping, trail-riding, shooting, blowing stuff up, off-roading or just having a bonfire, we loved it all, and spent the majority of our time doing it. We frequented many beautiful locations around that area including, Mt. Hood, Bachelor, Goat Mountain, Larch Mountain, Lolo Pass, 1,000 acres, among countless others but undoubtedly my favorite place was Wildcat mountain.

                  Back then Wildcat mountain was the best. It is an old rather secluded logging mountain, located just outside of Sandy. Anyone who is familiar with the area will likely have heard of it. There are a few scattered residents there, but they are indeed few and far between. The mountain itself was pretty rough with mostly old dirt roads and crumbling stretches of broken pavement. A lifted 4×4 truck or jeep is definitely recommended for those attempting to traverse it. The mountain once played host to countless parties and massive bonfires with hundreds of people in attendance. I can’t even count the amount of drunken fiascos I’ve been a part of up there. The remote location of the mountain allowed for loud gatherings to occur while being mostly unheard by locals. Cops also seldom patrolled this area simply because it is so large and difficult to traverse. Their little crown Victoria cruisers and ford exploders were definitely not best suited for the task. This of course made it the perfect party spot. Unfortunately, the mountain was recently closed off some time back. A massive old tree was fallen directly on the road that leads to the main trails. Damn thing has gotta be at least twenty feet around and weigh a couple tons. Most people said that this was in response to a 20-year girl getting alcohol poisoning up there and not being able to reach the hospital in time. It’s tragic really, but I never did find a conclusive answer. Whatever the reason, the mountain now remains mostly inaccessible to the public, unless you’ve got a rig capable of climbing over that monstrous tree.

                    Recently I was reminiscing about all the good times I’ve had there over the years. All the forgotten memories with good friends. However, one night in particular stood out to me. It was towards the end of the Wildcat mountain days, and it still unnerves me to this day.

          The day started out much like any other. It was a Friday, and I was looking forward to getting off of work and enjoying the weekend. It was early spring time and unseasonably warm for that time of year. After texting some of my friends, we decided to head up to Wildcat and have a bonfire after we were off work. I finished out the remainder of my day and texted my friends Eric and Chris. We decided to meet up and gather supplies for the night. Chris worked for a shipping company who always kept a large supply of pallets on hand. Eric and I met him at his work and loaded up the broken pallets into Eric’s truck until it was full to capacity. We then headed out to collect our guns and some ammo before departing. I texted Andrea: another friend of mine, and asked her if she wanted to go to. She agreed and told me she was going to bring Brittney and Meghan along too. We met up with the girls an hour or so later and proceeded to head out. Eric drove his Chevy Silverado and Chris and Meghan went with him. Andrea and Brittney rode with me in my Jeep Wrangler.

                  We arrived in Sandy a little after 6 that night. We stopped by the gas station and liquor store to purchase our essentials for the night and after refueling we were back on the road. By the time we had arrived on the foot roads of Wildcat mountain the sun was beginning to set. Andrea and Brittney had already begun drinking their fruity vodka and I could tell they were already getting a little tipsy. I rolled down the window to feel the cooling mountain breeze as we rode deeper into the mountain. A couple minutes later Brittney began begging me to stop the car so she could pee. I gave her a hard time about not going when we were at the gas station but eventually I agreed after she threatened to let loose on my back seat.

        I pulled the Jeep over over and Brittney and Andrea hopped out and headed into the woods to the right. Eric pulled his truck up behind me as Meghan also hopped out to join the other 2 girls. I pulled the handbrake before stepping out into the brisk evening. I decided I might as well go too, as we still had a little farther to go before we reached our destination. I began to relieve myself in the front of my Jeep while looking around at the forest around me. Luckily for us most of the snow had melted already but trace amounts could be seen in the ditches along either side of the road.

          I took a deep breath of the chilling damp mountain air, and felt my soul revitalize. The air of nature has always just seemed so calming to me, and it is a most welcome departure from the polluted stale air of the city. Below us the pavement lay cracking and obviously quite neglected, even more so than the last time we had been there or so it would seem. The forest stood silent, with only the occasional sounds of bird calls breaching the rumbling sound of my engine. 

      I scanned the mesmerizing scene until something on the edge of the road caught my eye. In a tree about 30 yards in front of me on the left side of the road there was something dangling from a tree about twenty feet up. It looked like a sack food or something. Hunters and campers do often string their food up from trees to try and prevent attracting bears, but this one was right at the road. It would’ve been a terrible place to camp, let alone to hunt. My headlights just barely illuminated the bottom of it, but it was too difficult to make out what the object actually was. I squinted my eyes and cocked my head to the side to try and make it out but had no luck.

         I decided to try and get a closer look. Luckily for me, I kept a large spotlight with me that I could plug in to my outlet in the jeep. Thing comes in handy if you ever drop your phone out there and have no battery. I plugged it in and shined the beam upwards towards the object. At first, I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing but soon was stunned to discover that it wasn’t a sack up there, but an entire deer carcass hanging about 25 feet above the ground. Its head hung lifeless, and a massive hole was ripped in its stomach from which entrails, guts and organs dangled out of. Blood and various fluids had soaked the dirt and snow below the tree. The antlers, which I had first thought to be tree branches were broken and gnarled, an obvious sign of struggle. I looked around for an anchor line, but there were no visible ropes or ties securing it from anywhere, at least that I could tell. It was just haphazardly sprawled out on a massive tree branch, like someone had launched it out of a catapult and lodged it in the tree. My immediate thought suspected that this was the handwork of a cougar, but the size of the deer made it unlikely. It was a buck, and I’m no expert in deer adolescent rates but I’d say it was pretty close to fully grown. I know that leopards and other big cats will sometimes drag their prey into trees, but could a mountain lion really do that? They don’t get nearly as big as leopards, and the leopards prey of choice: the gazelle, is much smaller than a deer.

      I called out to the other members of our group to come take a look. We all stood around and gawked at the scene for a few minutes. None of us had ever seen anything quite like this, and the grizzly sight made me feel an uneasy sense of dread. I voiced my theory of the mountain lion to the others, however Chris quickly shot it down with the same logic I had used previously. We that perhaps it was cruel joke or prank of some sort, all be it a messed up one at that. We began joking and laughing about the prospect of a serial killer being up there, which thoroughly amused us. For a moment, a strange fleeting thought of retreat crossed my mind. I suddenly felt like abandoning our night, but of course I didn’t. After all, I wasn’t about to let something as meager as a mutilated deer carcass stop me from enjoying my Friday night.

                We all piled back into the trucks and proceeded further up the mountain. We continued onward as the concrete road gave way to that of a crude gravel one. Several minutes later we arrived at the infamous fork in the road. The road straight ahead led to miles upon miles of more trails. The path to the right was the way we normally proceeded, but there was quite a substantial amount of snow on that path. After discussing our options for a few minutes, we decided to proceed to the right, to our normal spot. Eric pulled his truck around me and rumbled on to the right and into the snowy path despite our initial hesitance. He hadn’t got more than 100 yards in when he began to run into trouble. His truck was suddenly stopped by the large snow drifts on the road. He went into reverse and crept backwards a few feet, before his back end began to sink downwards. Clear sign of a loss of traction. Back into drive as he gunned it forward. Snow and slush was flung out violently as his engine roared in an attempt to free itself. A few more minutes of rocking back and forth but no luck. He was stuck.

        Brittney, Andrea and I found this all rather amusing as we looked on to Eric struggling to free himself. Eventually he stopped moving altogether and waved his hand out the window, signaling his distress. I flipped my jeep around and began to back up towards him. The idea was to use my twin pairs of chains to link our rigs, rear bumper to rear bumper on the hooks while I pulled straight out, dragging him backwards down the trail. We’ve performed similar maneuvers at least a dozen times before, sometimes with half a dozen rigs hooked up all at once. Unfortunately, upon inspection of the chains I quickly realized that they were too short to stretch from the dry gravel to the spot in which Eric was stranded. Because of this, I would have to reverse up the trail onto the snow patch in order to get close enough to him.

       Chris hopped out to guide me backwards, and cautiously I backed the jeep up into the snow. We linked up and I began to slowly pull away. The chain pulled taught, and Eric’s truck began to move slightly. Eventually our effort petered out and. I put my jeep in reverse and again backed up towards him, this time with the intent of getting a running start for more momentum. By the way, don’t ever try this. If that chain would’ve snapped it could’ve cleaved one of our heads straight off our body. Regardless, I gunned it and it jerked Eric’s truck a bit, but still was not enough to free it completely. The chain was pulled tight and I began to spin my wheels. Back into reverse I went, and then forward again. My engine screamed and my RPM’s jumped to dangerous levels but all I succeeded in doing was spinning the tires. His truck was just too heavy, and I didn’t have enough traction anymore.

         We both exited our vehicles to once again inspect the situation. My jeep was now dug deep into the snow, to the point where the fenders were hovering only an inch or two above the top layer. Eric’s truck had been moved maybe five feet, but that wasn’t even the worst of it. The chain was pulled tight, so tight that we were unable to disconnect it. We were both stuck. Not the first time that had happened to us however, so we decided to just chill for a bit and try and think of a different plan.

             We broke out the pallets and lighter fluid and sparked up a fire in a dry patch on the side of the road. The drinks came out and all the troubles of life began to slowly slip away, including the current predicament we found ourselves in. We all laughed and reminisced for a while about all the amazing times we’d had together. Now before you say anything, I know, I shouldn’t have been drinking because I was driving. I know, I was an idiot back then. It’s no excuse I know but I always did at least make it a point to remain mostly sober, sticking only to beer. Eventually after we were all several beers deep, we decided we now had the cognitive and mental capabilities required to free our trucks. Everyone else was quite drunk by that point except for Eric, who seldom if ever actually drank.

               Eric, Chris and I returned to the trucks and once again I tried pulling him out. Again, we had little luck moving anywhere, so we busted out the shovels and began digging away at the snow and ice. An hour or so of struggling and digging and little progress had been made. The chain was still pulled too tight to disconnect, and we were running out of options. We began to realize that we may not be going anywhere for a long while. It’s not as though this idea frightened us at least initially, as I said, we had been stranded before, but it was a bit of an inconvenience. When given the choice of sleeping in my own bed, or in the driver’s seat of my jeep in the middle of the freezing woods, well that’s not a very hard decision to make. We decided our best course of action would be to call our friend Alex and ask for help.

     By this point it was around midnight, and we knew Alex would likely be sleeping and definitely less than thrilled to hear from us so late. Unfortunately, we didn’t have much of a choice, unless we wanted to spend the night out there. Eric strolled around our makeshift camp, attempting to get a signal for his phone. Eventually he was successful and managed to get ahold of Alex. Alex was not exactly excited about driving all the way up there to help, but he eventually agreed nonetheless. He had a hand-winch which we could use to hopefully pry ourselves free of our little situation. The downside was that Alex drove a BMW 323i, and there was simply no way he would make it up to where our trucks were located. That meant that we would have to make the journey back down the mountain on foot to the point where Alex could meet us. A good 3 or 4 mile trek at least. Before we had a chance to talk over the plan, Chris rose up in a drunken stupor and began stumbling back down the road towards the bottom. I guess he felt inspired at the time because next thing we know, he had disappeared into the night before anyone could really react. I decided I had to follow, so I prepared myself to give chase to Chris. Before I left however, I grabbed my Taurus 44 magnum from my jeep and gave chase several minutes later. Better to be safe than sorry after all. Eric and the girls elected to stay behind and watch the camp, and so I headed out into the darkness alone.

               I began walking down the mountain in my slightly inebriated state. The environment away from the fire had gotten very cold, but luckily the alcohol dulled my senses to some capacity. I called out to Chris several times on my way, but he didn’t answer back. It surprised me how quickly he had gotten out of earshot from me, but in hindsight I hadn’t left until several minutes after him. That or he was just too drunk to call back. Chris is a guy with an iron will, and once he sets his mind to something you’d be hard pressed to stop him. And when he’s drunk that will increases at least tenfold.

         I walked down the mountain in complete silence for quite some time. By that point it was probably at least 2 am, and the forest around me had fallen uncomfortably silent. It’s strange, I was so used to this place being so loud and full of people and noises, but tonight, I was completely alone in the dark. The normal environmental sounds were nonexistent, and the only sound I heard was that of my footsteps meeting the torn-up pavement. Not even a single gust of wind managed to penetrate the dense silent canopy of the woods. It was so quiet I could almost hear the sounds of my own heartbeat. Being alone in a dark forest at night is not a fun sensation. Obviously, there are no lamp posts or artificial lights up there, but luckily for me it was a full moon that night, which illuminated the immediate vicinity enough to travel without need of a flashlight. I could only see as far as the tree line however, and on either side of the road stood an enclave of monolithic trees in high attention like soldiers given a command. Seeing past them from the road was near impossible. I called out to Chris several more times on regular intervals but he never did answer me back, so I soon gave up trying altogether. I’ll be honest it did make me quite anxious to not get a response.

                  I continued walking down the mountain for quite a while, past the small dirt pit and down towards the fork in the road. Still there was not a single sound to be heard from any direction. No chirping of crickets or calls of owls, nor a distant howl of a coyote. Just silence. It’s strange what happens when the human mind goes through extended bouts of silence. You never realize just how much you rely on sound for comfort. Only in complete silence do you realize how much you miss the white noise ambience. I clutched my 44-magnum tight in its holster, as the environmental paranoia began to try and play tricks on my mind.

       Suddenly a noise shot out through the dark woods. The sound of a nearby snapping twig halted me in my tracks. I froze and glanced in the direction in which I thought the sound had originated, hand ready to draw my 44 from its holster. My heart began to pound in my chest as I stared into the darkness of the forest. In that moment my senses seemed heightened. I felt every chilling breeze and heard the drip-drop of water from the leaves. I saw nothing, despite my heightened awareness. I questioned myself on whether I had heard the noise at all. I know that the mind can play tricks when in an uncomfortable situation, and I wondered if I had simply fallen for it. Slowly I began to press onward, while keeping a close eye on the treeline.

       I hadn’t gone even 100 feet when I heard something that made my stomach sink like an anvil. The slight pitter-patter of footsteps in snow emanated slowly from the woods, 4 of them in total with another snapping twig at the end. I stared unblinking in the direction of the noise as the sound halted abruptly. Whatever it was seemed to be aware of the noise It made and stopped to not draw attention. My heart felt as though it was in my throat, as immediately the sensation of being hunted arose in my mind. I still couldn’t see anything in the darkened woods, but I now knew I was being followed by something. One of the things they teach in hunter’s safety, is the fact that the only things clumsy enough to snap twigs in the woods are bears and humans. Obviously, a bear would not be a welcome sight, and if it was a human that was stalking me, then the implications of that cannot be good.

                   I picked up the pace and continued briskly walking just trying to get down as fast as possible, now cursing the initial idea of leaving the bonfire in the first place. The thought then crossed my mind that maybe it was Chris trying to spook me. He honestly is not really the prankster type, but I guess under the right circumstance he may go for it. Although he likely knew I was armed, and I doubted he would risk a tragic accident for a quick laugh. It just didn’t make sense, and my mind raced as I tried to figure out what it was that followed me.

         Not long after the footsteps began to reemerge. That dreadful pitter-patter of crunching snow filled me with even more anxiety. I decided to just keep walking and see what my pursuer would do. The footsteps continued and began to slowly increase in frequency, as did my heart rate. I began rapidly glancing back over my shoulder desperately trying to glance at my stalker. The footsteps seemed to grow closer and closer, but still I saw nothing. Deciding I couldn’t take anymore I stopped and drew my revolver. I called out for Chris again, warning him that I was armed and not to mess with me. As I expected though, there was no response. The footsteps had again stopped, leaving me alone in the silence once more. My nerves got the better of me in that moment. I raised my revolver and fired a warning shot into bank by the treeline away from the direction of the footsteps. The serene night was pierced by the deafening concussion of the blast. My ears were accosted by the explosion, making it difficult to ascertain any response from my pursuer. I waited for a couple seconds, and heard nothing in response, except for the ringing in my ears.

   After hearing nothing for quite a while, I decided to continue my descent. Not a minute later, the footsteps returned, but this time at a much more rapid pace. The steps drew ever nearer, now seemingly only a couple meters away. I began to run now on the brink of absolute terror. Whatever was on my trail was now quite obviously hostile. I heard the crunching and the violent snapping of twigs coming from behind me. I turned back to see trees and branches snapping wildly as a large dark figure moved rapidly through the woods. Whatever it was, was bipedal, and massive. The thing had to be at least 10 feet tall. I thought it to be a bear, but knew that there was no way a bear could possibly move that quickly on only two legs. Unfortunately, as I glanced back, my foot fell upon a patch of ice, causing me to slide and eventually come crashing down to the frozen ground below. Immediately I whipped my head back up, aiming a quivering hand with revolver towards the woods. My heart thundered wildly in my chest, but the beast, whatever it was had stopped. No more movement came from the woods. Quickly I regained my footing, staring intently at the woods. My pursuer had ceased all movement, and again the environment had fallen silent, save for my labored breaths.

        I stood and stared towards the woods, desperately trying to identify what or who it was that was after me. By this point of course, the notion of a human follower was simply out of the question. It seemed like I stood there motionless for hours, but in reality, the adrenaline surge was probably just obfuscating my perception of time. I aimed a shaking arm and revolver towards the woods, debating whether or not to fire another warning shot. Suddenly a noise chilled me to my very core. A low guttural howl, blared like a crash of thunder from the woods behind me. The noise was so loud it seemed to shake the very trees around me. It sounded almost like a howler monkey, but at a much lower octave, and much more threatening. The roar terrified me, and in my heightened frenzy I forgot any notion of standing my ground and took off in a mad sprint down the mountainous road.

         I was forced to stop after several minutes of desperate unabated running, unable to continue through the burning of my lungs. Damn cigarettes. The entire time I hadn’t so much as glanced behind me. I scanned my vision in all directions, panting heavily from the late-night workout. Again, I saw and heard nothing. For several minutes I waited, listening intently while trying to replenish my exhausted lungs. I had almost fooled myself into believing I had gotten away, until a commotion drew my attention yet again.

      The crashing and snapping of twigs again began from somewhere back in the woods. I could not see, but definitely could hear the beast in a mad dash towards my position. I raised my revolver again, knowing that my only chance now was to stand my ground and fight. My knees shook wildly below me, threatening to give out at any moment. The wreckage grew closer and closer, until it’s wake of destruction was in view. That leviathan beast tore through the grove like tissue paper, flinging branches, snow and everything else out of its way like nothing. It reached the edge of the woods, and suddenly stopped about 20 yards behind me. It was then that I got my first and only true look at the creature. My previous estimate of ten feet was probably a little overzealous, but it did stand at least 7 if not 8 feet tall. Thick knotted black hair covered its entire muscular frame from head to toe. Its eyes were deep pools of black or a dark brown which seemed to drink in all light from the moon above. It’s face and jawline were large but hard to discern in the shadows.

        The beast stood motionless and almost silent, with the only noise being that of its slow methodical deep breaths. I have never felt terror so strong as I did in that moment. I felt as though I was about to defecate on myself. Animals are good at sensing fear, and despite my horror, I remained steadfast and unwavering. The beast and I shared a deadlocked gaze with one another, both of us seeming to size the other one up. I clutched my 44 tightly, set dead to rights directly at the creature and ready to unleash hell at a moment’s notice. Every fiber of my being was screaming out for me to shoot the thing, and if it would’ve charged me I would have, but it didn’t. Instead it let out another guttural howl, but this time it was significantly lower in volume and tone. I find this part hard to convey, but to me, the screech did not seem like one of a threat, but instead a plea. If the creature truly did intend to hunt me, then why would it reveal itself to me like that? Why stop and simply stare from the side of the road when it could’ve easily charged me down during my panic-stricken rush and torn me limb from limb?

         I felt my arm slowly lower the revolver to my side almost subconsciously. The beast let out a grunt, and cocked it’s head from the shadows. We stared at each other again, a strange feeling of understanding between us. Suddenly the beast broke the stare and took a step forward. The move caught me off guard, and despite my previous feelings I wasn’t about to take any chances. I pointed the revolver again in it’s direction. The creature than did something I never would’ve expected, it froze. As soon as my revolver fell upon it, it ceased all movement. It’s as if the beast knew what a firearm was, and the danger it represented. Could an animal possibly understand the significance of such an item? I don’t know the answer, but in any case, I chose not to fire. The beast seemed a lot less hostile than it initially did, and I got the sense that it was not after me to hurt me, but instead to ward me off.             

               Suddenly the creature lifted its head and made that low guttural noise again, this time seeming as if it was surprised by something. Then it did something I did not expect. It lifted its massive right arm, and extended it’s index finger in a curled but definite pointing motion. Out of my peripherals I saw light beginning to increase behind me, but dared not look for fear of the thing. The increasing light allowed me to view the creatures face in some detail for the first time. It had dark brown almost black eyes, and the distinct facial shape of a primate. The beast then slowly lowered it’s arm and grunted again, before suddenly turning and charging back into the woods from which it came. The tree branches splintered and exploded as the beast rushed back into the thick blanket of the forest. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, and the eerie silence had returned.

               I stared at its path of destruction for a few more moments before deciding that it was truly gone. I could still sense eyes watching me, concealed in the consuming darkness of the forest, but innately I knew the beast would not return. I turned in the direction it had pointed, and saw headlights in the distance racing towards me. I holstered my pistol and the car drove up beside me moments later. It was Chris and Alex, with the hand winch we needed to hopefully escape. They greeted me as if nothing was wrong, but soon seemed to sense the shocked look on my face. I was visibly shaken from my encounter, and they could see it. They pried me for answers, But I didn’t say much. I couldn’t tell them, I would’ve seemed crazy. So, I remained silent.

            I was severely hesitant to go back up the mountain, but I knew we had no choice. Alex drove his car as far as it would take us, but once we hit dirt we knew it would take us no further. We grabbed the winch and reluctantly headed back up on foot. It took us a good hour to reach the area again, and the entire way I felt severely paranoid. I sensed we were being watched the entire time. A few times I thought I heard the footsteps again, though the beast never appeared again. Much to my relief we eventually reached the area again. It was about 2AM by that point and the fire had long since extinguished and only smoldering coals remained. Eric and the girls were all passed out in my Jeep. We woke him up and with some struggle were finally able to free his truck, and get out of there.

        Now I know what most of you are probably thinking: It was bigfoot! And I’ll admit, it sure does seem that way. I’ve never really believed in such cryptic lore really, and just never understood how a primate that large could go unobserved and unconfirmed for so long. Needless to say, I’m a believer now. I think those things are a lot smarter than we ever gave them credit for. From its apparent recognition of my gun, to the way it gestured at the approaching distant headlights of Alex. Maybe it’s not so outrageous to think that it possesses some advanced cognitive abilities, maybe even close to that of a human’s. It would surely require ample intelligence to be able to elude capture or even video recording for so long. An animal of that size has to have no natural predators, at least not in these woods. And thus, the only true threat it would face, would be that posed by the most dangerous animals of all. Us.  

        I’ve always wondered to myself, and perhaps you’ve wondered as well. Thousands if not millions of people claim to have seen these creatures or interacted with it to some capacity, why has no one ever shot one? The mere notion of bringing down such a beast for promise of fame and notoriety has to get every hunter’s blood pumping, not to mention the inherent lucrative incentive which comes stapled to it. Well I can tell you now, as someone who came face to face with this supposed ‘bigfoot’ and had such an opportunity, I never would’ve felt right taking it. When I looked at that creature, I saw not a demon or a monster. I saw an animal, a primate just trying to survive. It could’ve hunted me down, and torn me limb from limb with ease. It had every imaginable advantage on me, save for the gun, and it didn’t take it. It chose to instead confront me, and what I interpreted to be a show of force. I don’t know if it had anything to do with the deer in the tree, but maybe that was a macabre warning it had constructed. Perhaps it had a family nearby that it was defending as primates do normally live in small groups, or perhaps it knew that killing me would’ve meant others would come looking for me. I don’t pretend to know exactly why it did what it did, but one thing’s for sure. Had I pulled that trigger, I never would’ve felt right about it. Sure, I could’ve and probably would’ve received fame and notoriety from the media, but that’s just not me. As soon as that cat was out of the bag, others would hunt the rest of them down relentlessly, driven by the promise of avaricious intentions. It’s how humanity has always been, someone finds something of value, and the cockroaches swarm to ravage and cannibalize it until nothing remains. Killing that one creature, would’ve killed the entire species.         

          I’ve never gone back to Wildcat after that night, it just doesn’t feel right anymore. Plus, it’s blocked off and near impossible to access except by foot. That sighting deeply unsettled me, and I now have many more questions than answers. More importantly though I came to recognize that that mountain is it’s territory, and it does not want intruders. The pacific northwest is pretty well known for its sightings of reported bigfoot encounters. Maybe that truly was what I saw. Whatever it was, I don’t want to try its patience. It was quite obviously no bear, or any animal I’ve ever heard of. Whatever it is, it’s smart and it does not like visitors. I don’t know, that’s just the impression I got from it.

        For those of you who would read this account and seek out Wildcat for yourself, well I can’t stop you. I can warn you, but at the end of the day that’s not going to stop you is it? I just hope that you take my words seriously, and don’t let a genie out of the bottle that you can’t control. I don’t plan on ever going back. Call me a coward or whatever you will, it does not matter anymore. It’s not like you’re going to believe my account anyways right? Lately there’s been one thing that’s been on my mind though. Maybe the massive parties and tragic death of that girl weren’t the only reason that Wildcat Mountain was blocked off by the cops. And maybe, it wasn’t even blocked off by the cops at all.