BWBS Ep:188 Bigfoot Country: Part Nine

Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles, designer, marketer, logistics manager, all while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at shopify.nl. That's shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. I know that you want to listen to your podcast, so I'll keep it short. Because if you think it's important to make a duly choices, can ASR maybe help? Well, I think, how then? Well, for example, when you're doing a lot of things that you love, you're doing. Will you know more about the instructions where a duly choice is? Go to asr.nl slash duurzamekeuzes. This does ASR for you and a healthy family. ASR does it. So, then can you now listen to your podcast. Some make it out. Others aren't so lucky. Are you ready? Because once you hear these stories, you'll never walk in the woods alone again. So grab your flashlight, stay close, and remember, some things in the woods don't want to be found. Hit that follow or subscribe button, turn on auto downloads, and let's head off into the woods if you dare. Part 7. Additional Interviews. Chapter 45. Encounters from the Edge. Some stories took years to reach me. Witnesses would circle for months or even years, listening to the podcast, reading the forums, gathering courage. Then, when they were finally ready, they'd reach out, often apologetically, as if embarrassed by how long it had taken them to speak. I've been wanting to contact you since episode 42, one woman wrote. That's when I realized there were others like me. But I was scared. Scared of being judged. Scared of what my family would think. Scared of reliving something I'd spent 30 years trying to forget. Her name was Patricia Ann Holloway, and her story became one of the most detailed and compelling I ever documented. Patricia was a retired librarian from rural Pennsylvania, 71 years old, with a voice that crackled with age, but rang with clarity when she spoke about her encounter. It happened in 1973, she began. I was 19 years old, a freshman at Penn State. That summer, I'd gotten a job at a wilderness camp in the Allegheny National Forest. My job was to supervise a cabin of 12-year-old girls, help them with activities, make sure they got to meals on time, That sort of thing. What kind of camp was it? Church camp. Baptist. Very structured. Very wholesome. We had Bible study every morning, swimming in the afternoon, campfires at night. It was supposed to be safe, protected. A place where nothing bad could happen. But something did happen. Patricia took a long breath. It was the third week of camp. My girls were settled in for the night. I'd done bed check around nine, made sure everyone was in their bunks. Then I went out to the porch of the cabin to read by flashlight. It was a beautiful night. Clear sky, stars everywhere. That kind of silence you only get in the deep woods. What did you experience? At first just a feeling, like something was watching me from the tree line. I'd felt it before during the summer. That prickling on the back of my neck. That sense of not being alone. But I'd always dismissed it as imagination. That night though, I couldn't ignore it. Why not? Because I heard something. A sound I'd never heard before. This low, rumbling vocalization. Almost like a growl but with rhythm to it. Like language. Like something was trying to communicate. What did you do? I should have gone inside. Should have locked the door and hid under my covers like a sensible person. But I was 19 and curious, and probably not as smart as I should have been. So I turned on my flashlight and pointed it toward the trees. And? And I saw eyes. Two eyes reflecting my light, maybe 50 feet away. But they weren't on the ground, where an animal's eyes would be. They were high, seven feet up at least, higher than any person could be standing. Patricia paused, and I could hear her trembling breath through the phone. I dropped the flashlight, just stood there, frozen, as those eyes moved toward me, closer and closer until I could see the shape around them. Massive shoulders, long arms, a body covered in dark hair. It stopped about 20 feet from the porch and just looked at me, studied me, like I was something it was trying to understand. How long did this last? Maybe a minute. Felt like hours. Then one of my campers, a girl named Susan who'd gotten up to use the outhouse, screamed. The creature turned toward the sound, then back to me. And I swear, Brian, I swear, it made a gesture. Like a wave. Like it was saying goodbye. Then it turned and walked into the forest. And I never saw it again. What happened with Susan? She'd seen it too. Not as clearly as I had, but enough. She was hysterical. Took me an hour to calm her down. The camp director didn't believe either of us. Said we'd seen a bear. That our imaginations had run wild. He threatened to fire me if I kept spreading stories among the campers. Did you tell anyone else? Just my roommate when I got back to school. She thought I was crazy. After that, I kept quiet. Got married, had kids, built a life. But I never forgot. Never stopped thinking about those eyes. That gesture. That sense of connection across the gulf between species. Why are you telling me now? Because I'm 71 years old, and Susan died last year. Cancer. She never talked about what we saw. Not to her husband. Not to her children. Not to anyone. She carried that secret to her grave. Patricia's voice cracked. I don't want to do that. I don't want to die without someone knowing. Without the truth being spoken. Patricia's interview was followed by a flood of similar accounts. Witnesses who'd stayed silent for decades, finally finding the courage to speak. Each story added texture to my understanding. Each voice enriched the tapestry we were weaving. From Vermont, a 90-year-old man named Elijah Morse described an encounter from 1952, when he was a young logger working in the Green Mountains. We called them the Wild Men, he said. Everyone knew about them. We just didn't talk about it outside the logging camps. From Mississippi, a woman named Dorothy Jackson shared a story her grandmother had told her. An encounter from the 1920s, passed down through three generations. Grandma saw one drinking from the creek behind the farm, Dorothy said. She was eight years old. She never forgot it, and she made sure we never forgot it either. From California, a retired park ranger named William Bill Hendricks opened up about experiences he'd had throughout his 40-year career. I saw things I couldn't report, Bill admitted. Things that would have ended my career if I'd put them in writing. But I documented everything privately. Journals, photographs, audio recordings. It's all yours if you want it. I wanted it. Every story. Every piece of evidence. Every thread that connected the present to the past. The tapestry was growing. And it was beautiful. Chapter 46. The Researcher's Burden. Not everyone who reached out was a witness. Some were researchers. Scientists. Academics. Professionals who'd risked their careers to study a phenomenon that mainstream science refused to acknowledge. Their stories were different from the encounter accounts, but no less important. They revealed the scope of the cover-up, the personal cost of pursuing forbidden knowledge, the loneliness of knowing something the world wasn't ready to hear. Dr. Rebecca Hartwell was a primatologist who'd spent 20 years studying great apes in Africa before turning her attention to the Sasquatch phenomenon. I was skeptical at first, she told me. Like any properly trained scientist, I dismissed the reports as misidentification, hoaxes, or wishful thinking. Then a colleague showed me a footprint cast from Washington State, and everything changed. What was different about that cast? The dermal ridges. Fingerprints, essentially. But on the foot. They showed a pattern of wear and scarring that would be virtually impossible to fake. I'd studied primate locomotion for two decades. I knew what authentic looked like, and that cast was authentic. What did you do? I started investigating, quietly at first. I couldn't let my department know what I was doing. I collected evidence, interviewed witnesses, analyzed samples. What I found was extraordinary. Hair that couldn't be identified to any known species. Vocalizations that didn't match any cataloged animal. Behavioral patterns that suggested intelligence. culture, even rudimentary language. How did your colleagues react? They didn't know. Not until I made the mistake of publishing a paper on my findings in a minor journal. After that, she laughed bitterly. After that, my career was effectively over. I was denied tenure. My funding dried up. Former friends stopped returning my calls. I became a cautionary tale. The promising scientist who went crazy and started believing in Bigfoot. Do you regret it? Some days, yes. I miss the work I used to do. I miss being respected. I miss the life I'd planned for myself. She paused. But I also know what I know. I've seen the evidence. I've talked to the witnesses. And I can't pretend any of that doesn't exist, just because it's inconvenient. What do you think these creatures are? I think they're a relict population of hominids, probably descended from Gigantopithecus, or a related species. They've survived in remote areas by being intelligent, cautious, and adaptable. They're our cousins in a sense. Branches of the same evolutionary tree that diverged long ago. Do you think science will ever acknowledge them? Eventually, the evidence is becoming too strong to ignore. More and more researchers are coming forward, risking their careers to speak the truth. The wall of denial is cracking. Someday. Maybe not in my lifetime. But someday, it will fall. Dr. Hartwell's story was echoed by others. A geneticist who'd analyzed hair samples and found DNA that didn't match any known species. A zoologist who'd documented footprints with anatomical features that couldn't be faked. An anthropologist who'd collected oral histories from indigenous peoples around the world, finding remarkable consistency in their descriptions of these creatures. Each one had paid a price for their curiosity. lost jobs, lost relationships, lost standing in their professional communities. They'd become pariahs, exiles from the scientific establishment that had once welcomed them. And yet they kept working, kept gathering evidence, kept hoping that someday the truth would prevail. Their dedication inspired me. Their sacrifice reminded me that this work mattered, not just for the witnesses, but for everyone who'd ever questioned the official narrative, who'd ever wondered if the world was stranger than we'd been taught. The researchers were carrying a burden that few could understand, and I was honored to help them share it. The most challenging researcher interview was with Dr. Marcus Webb, a former military intelligence officer who'd been involved in the government's efforts to study and suppress evidence of these creatures. I can't tell you everything, Marcus said. his voice guarded even through the encrypted connection we'd established. There are things I know that could get me killed if they became public, but I can tell you enough. What can you tell me? That the government has known about these creatures since at least the 1940s. That there have been systematic efforts to suppress evidence, intimidate witnesses, and control the narrative. That some people in positions of power have a vested interest in keeping the truth hidden. Why? Why? What's the motivation for the cover-up? That's the question, isn't it? Marcus was quiet for a moment. Part of it is fear. Fear of what would happen if people knew. Fear of the questions it would raise. About evolution. About human uniqueness. About our place in the world. But there's more to it than that. More how. These creatures aren just animals They have abilities Cognitive abilities sensory abilities maybe even abilities we call paranormal The government has been trying to understand those abilities for decades Trying to harness them Trying to weaponize them Weaponize. I've said too much already. Just know that there are programs, black programs off the books, that would shock you. programs that treat these beings not as subjects of study, but as assets to be exploited. His voice hardened. That's part of why I left. I couldn't be part of it anymore. Couldn't participate in treating intelligent beings like lab rats. What should people know? That the truth is stranger than they can imagine. That the forces arrayed against disclosure are powerful and ruthless. And that despite all of that, the truth is coming out. It can't be stopped. Too many people know. Too much evidence exists. The dam is breaking, and nothing they do can hold it back forever. Marcus's interview never aired. He withdrew permission at the last minute, afraid of the consequences. But his words stayed with me. A reminder of the darkness that lurked behind the cover-up. These weren't just bureaucrats protecting their turf. They were people with agendas, with plans, with secrets they'd kill to protect. And they were still out there, watching, waiting for their moment. Chapter 47, Family and Faith Mama called on a Sunday evening, as she always did. I've been watching your show, she said, her voice carrying the warmth that had sustained me through every difficult moment of my life. That television thing. The documentary. What did you think? I think you've come a long way from that scared little boy who moved to Lyarly. She paused. I think your daddy would be proud if he wasn't such a worthless piece of, well, you know. I laughed. Mama never minced words, especially about Jerry. Do you believe it? I asked. Everything I've been saying, the creatures, the encounters, all of it. She was quiet for a moment. Stay tuned for more Backwoods Bigfoot stories. We'll be back after these messages. Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles, designer, marketer, logistics manager, all while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at Shopify.nl. That's Shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. I know that you want to listen to your podcast, so I'll keep it short. Because if you think it's important to make a successful choices, can ASR help? Well, I think, how then? Well, for example, when you pay a lot of things that you love, you will be able to pay for a lot of money. Will you know more about the insurance where a successful choices can be? Go to asr.nl slash duurzamekeuzes. This is for you and a more expensive society. ASR does it. So, we can now listen to your podcast. I believe you believe it. And I believe those people on your show. They're not lying. They've seen something. Whether it's what you think it is, or something else. She sighed. I'm an old woman, Brian. I've seen a lot of things that didn't make sense. I've stopped trying to explain them all. Like what? Like your daddy coming to me in a dream the night before he died. Told me he was sorry. Told me he'd wasted his life and wished he could do it over. She made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob. He passed the next morning. Heart attack, they said. Never even knew he was sick. I hadn't known that. Mama had never mentioned Jerry's death to me. I'd found out through his sister, months after the funeral. I'm sorry, Mama. Don't be sorry. He made his choices. We all do. Her voice strengthened. What I'm saying is, there's more to this world than we can see. I don't pretend to understand it, but I believe in you. I believe you're doing something important. And I'm proud of you, baby. Whatever else happens, I want you to know that. Thank you, Mama. That means everything. Now tell me about Daniel. How's that pizza place doing? We talked for another hour about normal things. Daniel's work, her garden, the grandkids she wished I'd give her someday. It was the kind of conversation we'd been having for decades, familiar and comforting. But underneath it, I felt something new. A connection. An understanding that Mama had experienced her own encounters with the impossible. Her own moments when the veil between worlds grew thin. Maybe everyone had. Maybe the strange was more common than we admitted. Maybe we'd all seen things we couldn't explain. Things we buried deep because the world didn't have room for them. Maybe that's what I was really doing with the podcast. Not proving that Sasquatch existed, but giving people permission to acknowledge the mystery. To admit that the world was stranger than we'd been taught. To embrace the unknown instead of running from it. After we hung up, I sat on the porch for a long time, thinking about Mama and Daddy and the life that had led me here. Thinking about all the witnesses I'd interviewed, all the stories I'd collected, all the threads I'd woven into a tapestry that was finally taking shape. The truth was getting out. I could feel it, building momentum every day. And when the tipping point arrived, I'd be ready. Faith was something I'd struggled with my whole life. Growing up Baptist in rural Georgia, I'd been taught that the Bible was literally true, That God was watching. That every choice I made had eternal consequences. It was a worldview that offered certainty in exchange for obedience. A bargain I'd accepted as a child without understanding what it cost. Then came the encounter in liarly. Then came the questions that religion couldn't answer. Then came the slow realization that the world was far stranger than any Sunday school lesson had prepared me for. I'd drifted away from church over the years. Not because I'd stopped believing in something larger than myself, but because the something I believed in no longer fit the box that organized religion provided. The creatures I'd encountered, the visions I'd experienced, the truth I was helping to uncover. None of it matched the theology I'd been raised with. But it didn't contradict it either. Not really. The Bible spoke of giants in the earth, of Nephilim and other beings that walked alongside humanity in ancient times. the Cherokee spoke of Tzul Kalu the Lakota spoke of the big man every culture, every tradition had stories of creatures that existed at the boundary between human and other maybe they were all talking about the same thing maybe the creatures I was documenting were the source of all those legends real beings that had inspired religious awe and mythological speculation for millennia or maybe there was something even bigger going on something that transcended individual religions and mythologies. Something that connected all the strange experiences, all the unexplained phenomena, all the glimpses of something beyond our everyday understanding. I didn't have answers, but I had faith. Not in a specific doctrine or deity, but in the search itself. Faith that the truth was worth pursuing, wherever it led. Faith that the universe had meaning. Even if I couldn't articulate what that meaning was, it was enough. It had to be. Chapter 48. The Gathering Dark. The threats intensified as the documentary's release approached. It started with digital attacks. Hackers targeting the podcast's servers. Attempts to breach the community forum. Suspicious activity around our social media accounts. Amanda's production company faced similar problems, with coordinated efforts to take down their streaming platforms and compromise their editing systems. They're getting desperate, Zach said, during one of our late-night strategy sessions. The documentary is going to reach millions of people. They know they can't stop it, so they're trying to discredit it, undermine our infrastructure, make us look unprofessional. Can they succeed? Not if we stay ahead of them. I've got backups of everything, multiple servers in multiple countries. They'd have to take down half the internet to stop this from going out. What about physical threats? Zach was quiet for a moment. Those are harder to prepare for, but I've got people watching. If anyone makes a move, we'll know. The physical threats came three days later. I was driving home from the Asheville apartment when I noticed a black SUV following me. It stayed back, maintaining distance, but never varied from my route. When I turned onto the mountain road that led to our property, it followed. I called Daniel. I've got a tail. Black SUV. Two occupants that I can see. I'm five minutes from home. I see them on the driveway camera. They're not trying to hide anymore. Stay inside. Lock the doors. I'm going to... The SUV accelerated, closing the distance between us. Before I could react, it was alongside me, forcing me toward the shoulder. I hit the brakes, but the SUV matched my speed, boxing me in. Then it pulled ahead and stopped, blocking the road. Two men got out. Dark suits, mirrored sunglasses. The same uniform I'd seen so many times before. I reached for my gun. I still carried, even after leaving law enforcement, and stepped out of my truck. That's far enough, I said. My weapon raised. We're not here to hurt you, Mr. Patterson. The speaker was the older of the two, gray at his temples, a weariness in his voice that I hadn't heard from these men before. We're here to talk. Your people have a funny way of starting conversations. Our people have many ways, not all of them sanctioned by the same authority. He held up his hands, showing they were empty. There are factions, Mr. Patterson, different groups with different agendas. Some want to stop you at any cost. Others. He glanced at his partner. Others think there might be a better way. What kind of better way? A partnership. A controlled disclosure. You have influence with the community. You could help manage the transition. Ensure it happens smoothly. In exchange, we could provide resources. Protection. Access to information that would make your work much more impactful. I've heard this pitch before. The answer is still no. That was a different faction. Their approach has been counterproductive. The fire, the surveillance, the intimidation. Those actions have only strengthened your position, made you a martyr. We prefer a more subtle approach. And if I refuse your subtle approach? The man sighed. Then we go back to headquarters and tell them we tried. And the other faction, the one that burned your house, gets to try their methods again. He met my eyes. We're trying to help you, Mr. Patterson. Believe it or not, the truth is coming out whether anyone wants it or not. The only question is, how much damage gets done along the way? I thought about his words, about the factions he'd mentioned, about the possibility that the monolithic force I'd been fighting was actually a battleground of competing interests. I'm listening, I said finally, but I'm not lowering my gun. Fair enough. The man reached into his jacket, slowly, letting me track his movements, and pulled out a manila folder. Consider this a gesture of good faith, information about the programs Dr. Webb mentioned, the ones he couldn't tell you about. He set the folder on the hood of the SUV and stepped back. Read it, think about what it means, and consider whether you'd rather have us as allies or enemies. He nodded to his partner, and they got back in the SUV. A moment later, they were gone, disappearing down the mountain road. I picked up the folder and carried it home. Daniel was waiting on the porch, rifle in hand. What the hell was that? A job offer, maybe. Or a trap. I'm not sure yet. Are you okay? I'm fine, but we need to talk. About everything. I showed him the folder, and what we read inside changed everything we thought we knew. Chapter 49, Revelations The folder contained documents spanning 60 years. Project names I'd never heard. Titan Watch, Forest Shadow, Mind Bridge. Each one a piece of the puzzle. A glimpse into the machinery of suppression that had been operating since before I was born. Titan Watch was the earliest dating to 1952 a military program to monitor anomalous bipedal entities in wilderness areas across north america the documents included encounter reports from soldiers scientists and civilians hundreds of them all systematically suppressed forest shadow was operational from 1967 to 1989 its purpose containment and control of public knowledge regarding apes anomalous primate entities. The documents detailed methods of intimidation, evidence confiscation, and witness silencing. There were references to enhanced interrogation that made my blood run cold. But MindBridge was the most disturbing. Initiated in 1978, it was a research program focused on the creature's apparent psychic abilities. The documents described experiments conducted on both human subjects and captured Sasquatch, designed to understand and potentially replicate their capacity for telepathic communication, remote viewing, and what the scientists called dimensional interfacing. They captured them, Daniel said. They actually captured these creatures and experimented on them. It gets worse. I pointed to a page near the end of the file. Look at this. The page described the program's termination in 1994, not because of ethical but because of catastrophic containment failure. Three creatures had escaped from a facility in Wyoming, killing 12 personnel in the process. The program was shut down. Its records scattered across multiple agencies to prevent any single whistleblower from revealing the full picture. Jesus Christ, Daniel whispered. They were holding them prisoner, torturing them, and the creatures fought back. Now I understand why the men in black are so afraid. It's not just about maintaining a secret. They know what these creatures are capable of. They know what happens when you push them too far. And what about everything we've been documenting? The creatures have been patient. For decades, they've endured, watched, waited. But the evidence is mounting. The witnesses keep coming forward. They can't keep the lid on this forever. I close the folder. The revelation isn't just about proof anymore. It's about justice for everyone who's been silenced. I spent the next week analyzing the documents, cross-referencing them with what I already knew, building a comprehensive picture of the cover-up's history and scope. The pattern was clear. The government had known about these creatures for at least 70 years. They'd studied them, feared them, tried to exploit them. And throughout it all, they'd maintained absolute secrecy, using every tool at their disposal to keep the public ignorant. But the facade was crumbling. Too many witnesses. Too much evidence. Too many people asking questions that couldn't be answered without admitting the truth. The truth was coming out, and the only choice left was whether it happened on humanity's terms or through some catastrophic leak. I shared the documents with Amanda and Zach, letting them draw their own conclusions. This changes everything, Amanda said. This isn't just a documentary about Bigfoot anymore. This is a story about government conspiracy, about the abuse of power, about the systematic suppression of a truth that belongs to all humanity. It's also dangerous, Zach cautioned. Publishing this could put us in serious jeopardy. The people behind these programs, they won't react well to being exposed. They've already tried to stop us, I said. They've burned our house, surveilled our community, threatened everyone who's helped us. What more can they do? A lot more. Zach's voice was grim. The programs in these documents, they weren't shut down because of oversight or public pressure. They were shut down because something went wrong. That means there are people out there who know what these creatures can do, who know how dangerous they can be. And those people will do anything to keep control of this story. Then we make sure they can't stop it. I looked at both of them. We release everything. The interviews, the evidence, the documents. All of it. All at once. We make the truth so widespread, so impossible to contain, that no amount of intimidation can put it back in the box. Amanda nodded slowly. It's risky. It's necessary. The witnesses have waited long enough. It's time to end the secrecy and let the world decide how to respond. When? Soon. As soon as we can put together the final package. the documentary, the podcast archives, the Mount St. Helens files, all of it. Stay tuned for more Backwoods Bigfoot stories. We'll be back after these messages. Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles, designer, marketer, logistics manager, all while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your 1 euro per month trial and start selling today at Shopify.nl. That's Shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. Where you can listen to your podcast. Sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at Shopify dot NL. That's Shopify dot NL. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. A comprehensive release that tells the whole story. And then? And then we keep searching. Keep documenting. Keep pushing until the truth is undeniable. Chapter 50. The night before. The night before we left for the cave. I couldn't sleep. Daniel was beside me, his breathing steady, at peace in a way I envied. He'd always been better at accepting uncertainty, at trusting that things would work out even when the odds seemed impossible. I got up quietly and walked to the window. The mountains were silver under the moon, the forest a dark sea stretching to the horizon. Somewhere out there in the deep places where humans rarely ventured, the creatures were preparing too. Gathering. Waiting. Tomorrow would change everything. For better or worse, nothing would ever be the same. I thought about all the paths that had led me here. Liarly. The encounter that had set everything in motion. A 12-year-old boy, alone in the woods, facing something that shouldn't exist. I'd spent 30 years running from that moment, pretending it hadn't happened, trying to build a normal life on a foundation of denial. It hadn't worked. The truth had a way of surfacing, no matter how deep you buried it. Mama. Her cancer. Her strength. Her refusal to give up, even when the doctor said there was no hope. She taught me that survival wasn't about avoiding challenges. It was about facing them. Enduring them. Coming out the other side transformed. Daddy. His absence. His failures. The hole he'd left in our family. He taught me what I didn't want to become. What happened when you ran from responsibility? When you chose the easy path over the right one? Law enforcement. The years of service. Of trying to protect people. Of discovering that the systems meant to keep us safe were often the ones causing the most harm. I'd learned to question authority. To trust my instincts. To seek the truth even when it was inconvenient. Daniel. The love that had given my life meaning. The partnership that had sustained me through every challenge. He taught me that I didn't have to face the darkness alone. And the podcast. 500 episodes. Thousands of witnesses. A community that spanned the globe. I'd set out to tell stories and ended up building something far bigger than myself. All of it had been preparation. All of it had led to tomorrow. Around 3 in the morning I went out to the porch. The night was still. The air cold enough to see my breath. I stood there, looking at the forest, and I felt it. That familiar sense of being watched. Not threatening. Not intrusive. Just aware. I know you're there, I said quietly. I know you've always been there. Nothing answered, but the feeling intensified as if something was acknowledging my words. Tomorrow everything changes. The hiding ends. The truth comes out. Are you ready for that? Silence. Then from somewhere deep in the forest, a howl, long, mournful, beautiful. It rose and fell, echoing off the mountains, filling the night with sound. Other howls answered it, dozens of them, from different directions, different distances. A chorus of voices that had been silent for too long, finally preparing to be heard. I stood on the porch, tears streaming down my face, listening to the creatures sing. They were ready. They'd been ready for a long time. And tomorrow, the world would finally learn what they'd been waiting for. Daniel found me on the porch as the sun was coming up. You didn't sleep, he said. Couldn't. Too much to think about. He put his arm around me. Having second thoughts? No. Just thinking about how far we've come. Everything that led us here. All the people who made this possible. Regrets? I thought about the question. About the house we'd lost. The threats we'd endured. The normal life we'd given up. No, I said finally. Not one. This is what I was supposed to do. This is why I'm here. And I wouldn't change any of it. Daniel kissed my cheek. Then let's go change the world. I smiled. Let's. We went inside to pack for the journey. In a few hours, we'd begin the hike to the cave. By nightfall, we'd be in the presence of creatures that the world said didn't exist. And by tomorrow, the world would know the truth. Chapter 51, Into the Unknown The expedition into the deep forest was everything we'd hoped for, and nothing we'd expected. We set up camp at the coordinates Zach had identified, in a remote section of the Pisgah, where the old growth trees blocked out all but fragments of sky. The monitoring equipment was deployed in a careful grid, covering nearly a square mile of wilderness. The first night was quiet. Too quiet, Zach said. The kind of quiet that usually meant we were being watched. They know we're here, he whispered, as we huddled around our small camp stove. They always know. Will they show themselves? Amanda asked. That's not up to us. It's never been up to us. On the second night, they came close. The thermal cameras picked them up first, three distinct signatures, moving through the trees about 200 yards from our camp. They circled us slowly, deliberately, as if assessing our intentions. Then the vocalizations began. That eerie, almost musical howling that had haunted my dreams since I was twelve years old. Echoing through the forest, answered by calls from other directions. A conversation we couldn't understand but could feel in our bones. I walked to the edge of our camp, leaving the safety of the firelight. We're not here to harm you, I said into the darkness. We're here to share your story, to help the world understand. Silence. Then from somewhere close, closer than I'd expected, a response. A low, rumbling vocalization that seemed to vibrate in my chest. Not threatening. Almost. Acknowledging. Keep the cameras running, I whispered to Amanda. Whatever happens, document everything. They didn't reveal themselves that night, or the next, but they left evidence of their presence. Footprints in the mud, structures of bent branches, a pile of freshly stripped bark beside our camp. They're testing us, Zach said, examining the signs. Seeing how we react, whether we can be trusted. Can we? Amanda asked. I thought about the question. About everything I'd learned, everything I'd experienced. About the Mount St. Helens documents and the decades of cover-ups. About all the witnesses who'd been silenced. All the evidence that had been suppressed. I don't know if they trust humans, I said finally. After what we've done to them, I wouldn't blame them if they didn't. But they watching They listening And maybe if we keep showing up keep proving that we mean what we say they decide to take a chance on us And if they don then we keep searching keep documenting keep preparing the world for the day when they do On our final night in the forest I had an experience I'll never fully understand. I was alone at the edge of camp keeping watch while the others slept. The moon was full casting silver light through the trees and there at the edge of the clearing I saw a shape tall Massive. Standing motionless among the shadows. We watched each other for what felt like hours. I didn't move. I didn't speak. I just stood there, feeling the weight of its attention. The ancient intelligence behind those eyes. Then it raised one massive hand. Not in threat, but in something that almost looked like acknowledgement. And it turned and walked back into the forest. Disappearing between one breath and the next. I never told the others what I saw that night, not because I didn't trust them, but because some experiences are too personal to share, too sacred. But I knew, in that moment, that everything I'd been working toward was worth it. The creatures were out there. They were watching. And someday, maybe not in my lifetime, but someday, they would decide the time was right. The revelation would come when they were ready, not before. starting a business can be overwhelming you're juggling multiple roles designer marketer logistics manager all while bringing your vision to life shopify helps millions of business sell online build fast with templates and ai descriptions and photos inventory and shipping sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at shopify.nl that's shopify.nl it's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. So, we can now listen to your podcast. can accomplish with Shopify by your side. Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles, designer, marketer, logistics manager, all while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at Shopify.nl. That's Shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. I understand that you want to listen to your podcast, so I'll keep it short. Because if you think it's important to make a valuable choice, can ASR help? Now I hear you think, how then? Well, for example, when you're selling the products you love to be a bad person. Want to know more about the insurance where a bad person can be? Go to asr.nl slash duurzamekeuzes. This is ASR for you and a bad person. ASR does it. So, I can listen to your podcast now. Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles. Designer, marketer, logistics manager. All while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your 1 euro per month trial and start selling today at shopify.nl. That's shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. Thank you. That's Shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. This is ASR for you and a sustainable community. ASR does it. So, we can now listen to your podcast. That's Shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. I know you want to listen to your podcast, so I'll keep it short. Because if you think it's important to make a lot of choices, can ASR help? Now I hear you think, how then? Well, for example, when you're selling the expensive things you love, you're selling. Want to know more about the insurance where expensive expensive expensive is possible? Go to acer.nl slash duurzamekeuzes. This is Acer for you and a more expensive community. Acer does it. So, we can listen to your podcast now. Have you ever wondered why Victorians mailed dead birds as love letters? Why the 1800s had so many miracle tonics that were just cocaine? or why an entire town once blamed a goat for political corruption, then, dear listener, you have found your people. Welcome to the Strange History Podcast, where every episode explores the bizarre, hilarious, unsettling, and occasionally, someone please check on humanity corners of our past. We dig up the stories your textbooks skipped. From haunted mansions and medical oddities to forgotten jobs, cursed holidays, and historical scandals so ridiculous they sound fake, but aren't. And yes, there will be sarcastic commentary, historical chaos, and questionable fake sponsors like Dr. Pumpernickel's patented goat-based relationship therapy side effects may include regret. So come join the adventure. You can find the Strange History podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, iHeartRadio, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts. Because history wasn't just weird. It was beautifully, catastrophically weird. Ever look up in the sky and wonder what's really going on up there? Hi, I'm Martin Willis, and I host Podcast UFO, the longest consistently running podcast dedicated to UFOs and UAP, with over 700 episodes in the last 15 years. Each week, I sit down with scientists, researchers, filmmakers, and people who have had real encounters to talk honestly about what we know and what we don't. There's no shouting, no crazy music, just thoughtful conversations about one of the biggest mysteries out there. If you're curious, open-minded, or just a little bit obsessed with UFOs, you will feel right at home. Search Podcast UFO wherever you get your podcasts or visit PodcastUFO.com. Podcast UFO, we're searching the mystery, never ends. How do you think? How then? Well, for example, when it's a cost-to-stakel of the things that you love are at Schade. Will you know more about the insurance where a cost-to-stakel is available? Go to asr.nl slash duurzamekeuzes. This is for you and a cost-to-stakel. ASR does it. So, then you can now listen to your podcast. I'll see you next time. Aser.nl slash duurzamekeuzes. Dit doet Aser voor jou en een duurzamere samenleving. Aser doet het. Zo, we kunnen nu lekker naar je podcast luisteren. Thank you. This is AASR for you and a healthy life. AASR does it. So, then you can listen to your podcast. Thank you. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thank you. Thank you.