I Caught Footage of What Bigfoot Does with Human Bodies – Shocking Sasquatch Discovery

Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm

My name is Ray Dobson, and I’m 58 years old. As I sit here in November 2025, the cold rain patters against the roof of my trailer in Schemania County, Washington. You can probably hear it under my voice as I recount a story that has lingered in my mind for over a decade. I shouldn’t be telling this; it feels like a confession. But after 11 years, the weight of it is too heavy to carry alone.

Back in late September 2014, during the early bow season, I was just another hunter who thought legends were for tourists. I’d sit in the Gford Pincho timber, listening to the wind whispering through the firs and the distant rumble of log trucks, all while thinking about elk and my mortgage—not monsters.

The night everything turned wrong was eerily quiet. Too quiet. No crickets chirping, no owls hooting, just that damp smell of moss and old earth lingering in the air. And then there was this—this sour, wet fur smell I’d never noticed before. I know what people think when they hear “Bigfoot.” I used to laugh right along with them. Now, I have footage I won’t show anyone and a cavern in my head I can’t stop walking back into.

Chapter 2: The Timberline Tap Room

There’s a different kind of quiet inside the Timberline Tap Room. Glasses clink, the old neon beer sign buzzes, and classic rock leaks from the jukebox. If you listen closely, you can still hear the rain on the tin awning. I was at my usual corner table, my bow case propped against the wall, hands wrapped around a sweating bottle of Rainier. The air smelled like spilled beer, fryer grease, and wet wool from guys coming in out of the drizzle—normal, safe.

Sheriff Dan Hower sat on the next stool, talking low with a couple of loggers. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but in a small bar, everything travels. I caught the words “old cemetery,” “dug up,” and “not like coyotes.” Then one of the loggers laughed—a kind of uneasy laugh men use when they’re scared of sounding scared. “Probably that Bigfoot crap again,” he said. “Tourists love it.”

Everybody chuckled. I did too, shaking my head. Graves get messed with all the time—kids, bears, whatever. I told myself that. Said it twice in my head like it made it truer. Still, when I stepped outside, the night felt thicker. The mist smelled like cold river and freshly turned dirt. A semi rolled by on Highway 14, its brakes hissing, and then the sound fell away into the trees.

Driving home with the wipers thudding, I kept seeing that cemetery in my mind. I told myself it was nothing, just talk. That night, lying in bed, I woke to a heavy thud against the back wall of the trailer. Then another, then a third—three knocks, spaced out like someone thinking about each one. I told myself it was just a loose branch in the wind, but the air inside tasted like damp earth, and I couldn’t explain that.

Chapter 3: The First Signs

Most mornings out there started the same. Thermos of coffee, shotgun on the rack, the truck heater clicking and wheezing as it tried to keep up with the cold. Gravel pinged the undercarriage as I eased up the logging road, radio off—just the hum of the engine and the muted shuffle of the tires. The forest smelled like wet cedar and diesel, and the needles glistened under a low sky that never quite made up its mind to rain.

I checked my trail cams one after another, the little red LEDs winking when I popped them open. Just deer, elk, and one neighbor’s cow that liked to wander. At the second gate, I ran into Ranger Kelly Ruiz. Her rig idled, hood steaming in the chill. We leaned on my tailgate, hands wrapped around travel mugs. Wind hissed through the tops of the firs like static.

“You hearing any weird reports up your way?” she asked.

“Just the cemetery thing,” I said. “Sheriff says kids or bears. I’m leaning bears.”

She shrugged, eyes on the tree line. “We’ve had some calls—people saying they heard knocks, whoops. You know, Bigfoot stuff.” She said it like a joke, but her jaw was tight.

I snorted. “Yeah, well, Bigfoot’s welcome to pay my mortgage if it’s out there.” I told myself it was nothing. People get cabin fever; they start hearing things.

Later that afternoon, moving through the timber with my bow, the woods went oddly still. No bird chatter, just the creak of a high branch rubbing against another. The faint tick of water dripping from moss. I caught a whiff of that same sour wet fur smell from the other night. I stood there, breath steaming, watching my own exhale drift away like smoke.

I didn’t see anything. No movement, no sound but the wind. But going back through the footage that evening—laptop fan humming on my kitchen table—my thumb hovered over the trackpad for a long time. There was a patch of shadow on one frame that didn’t match the others—too tall, too upright. I told myself it was just a tree trunk, but shadows don’t move between frames. And I couldn’t explain why my hands smelled faintly like grave dirt after a day I’d never gone near the cemetery.

Chapter 4: The Cemetery

There’s a little family plot up one spur road, small and fenced with rusted wire. Old stones sunk sideways, newer ones bright and smooth. My wife Jenny is up in town, a proper cemetery. But that little hillside had always made me uneasy—maybe because it’s half-forgotten.

That week, I’d dropped a big dough on a legal tag, dressed her out, and hung her from a gamble in a locked shed on a private lot I lease. The next morning, I drove up at dawn. Frost edged the grass, my breath hanging white in front of my face. The forest was quiet, just the distant rumble of a log truck down in the valley.

When I opened the shed, the chain was hanging loose. The gamble was swinging empty, squeaking softly. No blood on the floor. No drag marks—just a faint scuff like something tall had ducked under the doorway. And that smell—wet fur and turned earth—stronger here, making the back of my throat prickle.

“Bear got lucky,” I muttered. “Smart bear.” I said “bear” out loud three times. It didn’t fit. On the way back, curiosity pulled me toward that little family cemetery. The wire fence clicked when I unhooked it, wind making the dry grass hiss. A crow barked once and went silent.

One of the newer graves, from 2012, had a long, narrow trench at the head, like something had burrowed down and then backed out. Dirt piled on one side. No paw prints, no claw marks—just big deep impressions, heel to toe, like bare feet spaced wide apart. I crouched, breath fogging the prints, my heart hammering in my ears.

“Damn kids,” I whispered, though no kid I knew had feet that big.

Chapter 5: The Three Knocks

That night, back in my trailer, the fridge hummed and clicked, cycling on and off. I sat at the table cleaning my rifle, the TV flickering silent in the corner. My phone buzzed—a text from my daughter Megan asking if I could come to her school thing next week. I told her I’d try. I stared a long time at those words before hitting send.

Around midnight, just when I’d finally drifted off, there came three knocks again on the back wall. Slow, deliberate. I lay there holding my breath, telling myself it was thermal cracking in the wood. That’s all. But the air smelled like wet fur and dirt again, just for a moment. I never did figure out what those three knocks were.

Most mornings out there started the same. Thermos of coffee, shotgun on the rack, the truck heater clicking and wheezing as it tried to keep up with the cold. Gravel pinged the undercarriage as I eased up the logging road. Radio off. Just the hum of the engine and the muted shuffle of the tires. The forest smelled like wet cedar and diesel. Needles glistened under a low sky that never quite made up its mind to rain.

I checked my trail cams one after another, the little red LEDs winking when I popped them open. Just deer, elk, and one neighbor’s cow that liked to wander. At the second gate, I ran into Ranger Kelly Ruiz, her rig idled, hood steaming in the chill. We leaned on my tailgate, hands wrapped around travel mugs. Wind hissed through the tops of the furs like static.

“You hearing any weird reports up your way?” she asked.

“Just the cemetery thing,” I said. “Sheriff says kids are bears. I’m leaning bears.” She shrugged, eyes on the tree line. “We’ve had some calls—people saying they heard knocks, whoops. You know, Bigfoot stuff.” She said it like a joke, but her jaw was tight.

I snorted. “Yeah, well, Bigfoot’s welcome to pay my mortgage if it’s out there.” I told myself it was nothing. People get cabin fever. They start hearing things.

Chapter 6: The Shift

The following weeks were a blur of unease. I found myself looking over my shoulder more often, feeling the weight of the woods pressing in. My routine altered, and I began to avoid certain trails, especially those leading near the cemetery. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

Thanksgiving week arrived, and with it, Megan returned from her mother’s house. The trailer felt warmer with her laughter, and I tried to push the darker thoughts aside. We spent the holiday cooking together, sharing stories, and watching old movies. But even in those moments of joy, I felt the shadows lurking just beyond the edges of my perception.

One evening, while we were curled up on the couch, I caught a glimpse of movement outside the window. My heart raced as I stood up, peering into the darkness. The rain had returned, and the world outside was obscured by sheets of water. I saw nothing—just the flickering light of the porch lamp illuminating the falling rain.

“Megan, did you see that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“See what, Dad?” she replied, looking up from her phone.

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw something moving.”

I returned to the couch, but the unease settled back in. I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever I had seen was connected to the events of the past few months. The cemetery, the knocks, the smell—it all felt intertwined.

Chapter 7: The Gathering Storm

As winter approached, the rain turned to snow, blanketing the ground in white. The world outside my trailer transformed into a quiet, frozen landscape. I found solace in the stillness, but it was a fragile peace. The knocks returned, echoing in my mind, reminding me of the secrets I had yet to confront.

One night, as I lay in bed, I heard the familiar sound again—three knocks against the back wall. This time, I didn’t dismiss it. I sat up, heart pounding, listening intently. The air smelled damp, and for a moment, I thought I caught a whiff of that wet fur scent again.

I grabbed my rifle and crept to the back door, my breath fogging in the cold air. I opened the door slowly, peering into the darkness. The snow crunched beneath my feet as I stepped outside, the cold biting at my skin.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling.

Silence answered me. I scanned the area, the porch light casting long shadows across the yard. Nothing moved, but I felt the weight of the forest pressing in around me.

Chapter 8: The Dark Truth

The following days were filled with a sense of urgency. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something that demanded my attention. I returned to the cemetery, drawn by a force I couldn’t explain.

The air was cold, and the ground was hard beneath my feet. As I approached the little family plot, I felt a shiver run down my spine. The graves looked the same, but there was an energy in the air that felt different—charged, electric.

I crouched beside the newest grave, my heart racing. The ground was still disturbed, the dirt fresh. I ran my fingers over the headstone, tracing the name etched into the stone. It felt wrong—like a secret had been buried here, one that demanded to be unearthed.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. My heart raced as I turned, but nothing emerged. I stood there, breathless, waiting for something to happen. And then, from the depths of the trees, I heard it—the low, mournful whoop that sent chills down my spine.

I stumbled back, fear gripping me. The sound echoed through the night, filling the air with a sense of dread. I turned and ran, not stopping until I reached my truck, heart pounding in my chest.

Chapter 9: The Decision

Back in my trailer, I felt a sense of desperation. I couldn’t keep running from the truth. I needed to confront whatever was haunting me. I pulled out my laptop, the screen glowing in the dim light. The footage from my trail cams played through my mind, the images of the creature looming large.

I opened the files, scrolling through the clips until I found the one that had haunted my dreams—the clip of the Bigfoot carrying the body. I hit play, watching as the creature emerged from the trees, cradling the limp form.

My heart raced as I saw the details—the way it moved, the care it took. It wasn’t a monster; it was something else entirely. I felt a connection, an understanding that transcended fear.

I knew I had to share this. I had to tell someone about what I had seen. But the fear of being dismissed, of being labeled a fool, held me back. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would be ridiculed if I spoke out.

Chapter 10: The Gathering of the Community

As winter settled in, the community began to gather for the annual holiday festival. The streets were filled with laughter and cheer, but I felt out of place. I wandered through the crowd, watching families enjoy the festivities while I remained on the outskirts, burdened by my secret.

It was then that I saw Sheriff Dan Hower across the square, laughing with a group of locals. I hesitated, my heart racing. Should I approach him? Should I tell him everything?

I took a deep breath and walked over, forcing a smile. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“Ray! Good to see you!” he replied, clapping me on the back. “How’s the hunting been?”

“Quiet,” I said, my voice low. “But I’ve been hearing some strange things.”

Dan raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of concern. “Strange how?”

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. “You know, the cemetery… and the knocks.”

He chuckled, but it was uneasy. “You mean that Bigfoot talk? You know it’s just folklore, right?”

I felt a surge of frustration. “But what if it’s not? What if there’s something out there?”

Dan studied me for a moment, his expression serious. “Ray, you’ve been through a lot. Just remember, sometimes our minds play tricks on us in the dark.”

I nodded, but the weight of my experiences pressed down on me. I couldn’t let this go. I had to confront the truth, no matter how terrifying it might be.

Chapter 11: The Confrontation

That night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. The rain tapped against the roof, a steady rhythm that matched my racing heart. I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Megan, asking her to come over for a visit. I needed her support.

When she arrived, I could see the concern in her eyes. “Dad, are you okay?” she asked, sitting beside me on the couch.

“I’ve been hearing things, Meg. Strange things,” I confessed, the words spilling out. “I think there’s something in the woods. Something connected to the cemetery.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain the weight of my experiences. “It’s hard to describe. But I feel like there’s a connection between the missing people and… whatever is out there.”

Megan listened intently, her expression shifting from concern to determination. “We should investigate. We can’t just ignore it.”

I felt a spark of hope. “You’re right. We need to find out the truth.”

Chapter 12: The Investigation

The next day, we set out to explore the area around the cemetery. Armed with flashlights and determination, we ventured into the woods, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine.

As we approached the little family plot, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. The graves looked the same, but there was an energy in the air that felt different—charged, electric.

“Megan, stay close,” I said, scanning the area for any signs of movement.

We moved cautiously, the crunch of leaves underfoot breaking the silence. I felt the weight of the past pressing down on me, the memories of the missing hikers lingering in the air.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow moving between the trees. My heart raced as I turned to Megan. “Did you see that?”

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. “What was it?”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice trembling. “But we need to find out.”

Chapter 13: The Revelation

As we continued our search, I felt a pull toward the ravine where I had seen the Bigfoot before. The air felt charged with anticipation, and I knew we were getting closer to the truth.

When we reached the ravine, I paused, scanning the area for any signs of movement. The darkness loomed around us, thick and oppressive. I could feel the weight of the forest pressing in, and the familiar smell of wet fur and earth filled my nostrils.

“Megan, stay behind me,” I said, my heart racing as I stepped closer to the edge.

As I peered into the darkness, I saw movement—a shadow shifting among the trees. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what I was seeing. The Bigfoot stood there, watching us with an intensity that sent chills down my spine.

“Megan, get back!” I shouted, instinctively stepping in front of her.

But the creature didn’t move. It stood there, tall and imposing, cradling something in its arms. I felt a mix of fear and awe as I watched it, the memories of the past flooding my mind.

Chapter 14: The Connection

The Bigfoot took a step forward, its eyes locked onto mine. I felt a connection, an understanding that transcended fear. It wasn’t a monster; it was something else entirely—something that knew more about the forest and the lives within it than I ever could.

“Megan, look,” I whispered, pointing toward the creature.

She gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. “It’s real!”

The Bigfoot took another step, and I felt a surge of emotion wash over me. It was as if it was trying to communicate, to share something important. I could see the care in its movements, the way it held the bundle close to its chest.

“What do you want?” I called out, my voice trembling.

The creature paused, tilting its head as if considering my question. Then it stepped back into the shadows, disappearing from sight.

Chapter 15: The Decision

I turned to Megan, my heart racing. “We need to follow it,” I said, my voice filled with urgency.

“Are you crazy?” she replied, fear etched on her face.

“No, listen. I think it’s trying to show us something. We can’t just let this go.”

With a mix of trepidation and determination, we followed the path the Bigfoot had taken, the darkness enveloping us as we moved deeper into the woods. The air was thick with anticipation, and I could feel the weight of the forest pressing in around us.

As we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. The woods felt alive, every rustle and creak amplifying the tension in the air.

Finally, we reached a clearing, and I felt a sense of awe wash over me. The Bigfoot stood at the edge, watching us with those piercing eyes. It gestured toward a dark cave, inviting us to step inside.

“Megan, we have to go in,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated, fear evident in her eyes. “What if it’s dangerous?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t turn back now,” I replied, determination fueling my resolve.

Chapter 16: The Cave of Secrets

As we entered the cave, the air grew colder, and the smell of damp earth filled my nostrils. The darkness enveloped us, but I could see the faint glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls, illuminating the path ahead.

The Bigfoot moved ahead, leading us deeper into the cavern. I felt a mix of fear and excitement as we followed, unsure of what lay ahead.

Finally, we reached a large chamber, and I gasped at the sight before us. The walls were lined with bones—human and animal alike—arranged in intricate patterns. It was a graveyard of sorts, a collection of remnants from the past.

“What is this place?” Megan whispered, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” I replied, my heart racing. “But it feels important.”

The Bigfoot stepped forward, gesturing toward a pile of bones. I felt a sense of reverence wash over me as I realized the significance of what I was witnessing. This was not a monster; it was a guardian of the dead, a protector of the forest.

Chapter 17: The Guardian

As I stood there, I felt a connection to the creature that transcended fear. It wasn’t just a beast; it was a guardian of the forest, a keeper of secrets that had been buried for too long.

“Megan, we need to document this,” I said, pulling out my camcorder.

As I recorded the scene, I felt a sense of purpose wash over me. I was no longer just a hunter; I was a witness to something extraordinary.

The Bigfoot watched us, its eyes filled with an understanding that went beyond words. I could feel the weight of its gaze, as if it were urging us to remember the stories of those who had come before us.

Chapter 18: The Unraveling

As we left the cave, I felt a sense of urgency. I needed to share what I had witnessed, to ensure that the stories of the lost were not forgotten.

“Megan, we have to tell the sheriff,” I said, my voice filled with determination.

“Are you sure?” she replied, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Yes,” I insisted. “This is important. We can’t let fear stop us from sharing the truth.”

We hurried back to the truck, adrenaline coursing through our veins. As we drove toward town, I felt a mix of excitement and fear. Would they believe us? Would they understand the significance of what we had discovered?

Chapter 19: The Confrontation

When we arrived at the sheriff’s office, I felt a surge of anxiety. I had spent years keeping this secret, and now I was about to reveal everything.

Sheriff Dan Hower looked up as we entered, surprise etched on his face. “Ray! Megan! What brings you here?”

I took a deep breath, my heart racing. “We need to talk. It’s urgent.”

As I recounted our experience, I could see the skepticism in Dan’s eyes. “You’re saying you found a cave filled with bones? And a Bigfoot?”

I nodded, determination fueling my words. “It’s true, Sheriff. We need to investigate further. This is bigger than anything we’ve dealt with before.”

Dan’s expression shifted, and I could see the gears turning in his mind. “Alright, let’s gather a team and head back out there.”

Chapter 20: The Search Party

The following day, we assembled a search party, a mix of locals and law enforcement. As we made our way back to the ravine, I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. Would we find the cave again? Would the Bigfoot still be there?

As we approached the clearing, I felt a sense of urgency wash over me. The air was thick with anticipation, and I could feel the weight of the forest pressing in around us.

“Ray, where is this cave?” Dan asked, his voice steady but tinged with skepticism.

“Just ahead,” I replied, leading the way.

When we reached the cave entrance, I felt a sense of reverence wash over me. The darkness loomed ahead, and I could feel the weight of the past pressing in.

“Stay close,” I warned, glancing back at the group.

Chapter 21: The Discovery

The cave opened up into a large chamber, and I felt my heart race as I took in the sight before us. The walls were lined with bones—human and animal alike—arranged in intricate patterns.

“This is incredible,” one of the deputies whispered, his voice filled with awe.

I felt a sense of urgency wash over me as I realized the significance of what we were witnessing. This was not just a collection of bones; it was a testament to the lives that had been lost in the woods, a reminder of the stories that needed to be told.

Chapter 22: The Guardian Revealed

As we explored the cave, I felt a presence watching us. The Bigfoot appeared at the entrance, its eyes locked onto mine. I felt a connection, an understanding that transcended fear.

“Thank you for showing us this,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The creature stepped forward, gesturing toward the bones with a sense of reverence. I knew then that it was not a monster; it was a guardian of the forest, a keeper of secrets that needed to be shared.

Chapter 23: The Decision to Share

As we left the cave, I felt a sense of purpose. I needed to share what I had witnessed, to ensure that the stories of the lost were not forgotten.

“Megan, we have to tell the world,” I said, my voice filled with determination.

“Are you sure?” she replied, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Yes,” I insisted. “This is important. We can’t let fear stop us from sharing the truth.”

Chapter 24: The Aftermath

In the weeks that followed, the story of the cave and the Bigfoot spread like wildfire. News crews arrived, and the community rallied around our findings. The stories of the missing hikers were brought to light, and families finally had answers.

As I stood in front of a crowd, recounting our experiences, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. The burden of the past was lifted, and I knew that the truth had finally been revealed.

Chapter 25: The Legacy

Years later, I still think about that night in the cave. The memories linger, a reminder of the connection I shared with the creature and the stories of those who had come before us.

The forest remains a living entity, a reminder of the lives intertwined with its ancient trees. And I, Ray Dobson, will carry the weight of those echoes, a guardian of their memories, forever listening for the next knock in the night.

Chapter 26: Reflections

Now, as I sit in my quiet home, the rain falling softly outside, I reflect on the journey that brought me here. The knocks still resonate in my mind, a reminder of the connection I have with the forest and the creatures that inhabit it.

I have not returned to the cave since that night, but I carry its memory with me. The stories of the missing hikers, the connection with the creature, and the promise I made to honor their lives guide me as I move forward.

When I hear laughter about Bigfoot, I smile quietly to myself. I understand now that the stories are more than just campfire tales; they are a testament to the mysteries that exist in our world. And as long as I am here, I will continue to listen for the knocks, to honor the lost, and to keep their stories alive in the heart of the Cascades.