Helicopter Pilot Films GIANT BIGFOOT Carrying Body of Missing Hiker – Sasquatch Story
Shadows Over the Cascades
Chapter 1: The Flight
I’ve been a helicopter pilot for a logging company in northern Washington for over a decade. Twelve years of flying above these dense forests, watching the seasons turn, navigating fog, rain, and snow. I thought I knew these mountains like the back of my hand. I thought I’d seen everything. But on October 3rd, 2023, everything changed. That morning started like any other — clear blue sky, calm winds, perfect flying conditions. I was on my usual supply run to one of our most remote camps, cruising at about 800 feet, when something caught my eye in a clearing below.
.
.
.
At first, I thought it was a hiker or a lost hunter — people get turned around in these unforgiving woods more often than you’d imagine. But as I zoomed in with the camera mounted on my Bell 206, my world tilted. It wasn’t a person, at least not a normal one. It was something I’d only heard about in legends — a Bigfoot. A massive, towering figure covered in dark fur, easily eight feet tall, maybe more. And it was carrying a limp human body over its shoulder like it weighed nothing. The red jacket the person wore stood out starkly against the creature’s dark fur, like a beacon of tragedy.
The Bigfoot walked calmly through the clearing, heading toward the thick forest on the far side, moving with a steady, purposeful gait. It wasn’t hiding or rushing — it seemed to know exactly where it was going and what it was doing. That image has haunted me ever since. I see it when I’m awake, and it haunts my dreams. But what haunts me even more is what I didn’t do afterward — the fear that gripped me, the cowardice that let someone’s child remain lost forever.
Chapter 2: The Unseen Threat
My job takes me twice a week over millions of acres of wilderness in the Cascade Mountains. The route covers three logging camps, but Camp 3 is the most isolated — miles from any road or help. In the months leading up to October, the crew there had reported strange incidents: tools disappearing overnight, heavy equipment moved and arranged in odd patterns, eerie howls and wood knocking sounds after dark. Most blamed bears, but bears don’t move equipment or make those strange noises.
One veteran logger quit suddenly a week before my sighting, his eyes filled with real fear. At the time, I thought he was just burned out, maybe having a breakdown. Now, I wonder what he saw.
That day, after making my first two stops, I was heading to Camp 3 when I spotted the Bigfoot in that familiar clearing. The creature’s stride was too long, posture too hunched, arms swinging past its knees — nothing human. Zooming in, I saw its face clearly: a heavy brow ridge, deep-set eyes, a flat nose, a massive jaw. It looked almost human but undeniably otherworldly.
The body it carried was unmistakably human — dark hair, a bright red jacket with a patch on the back. The limpness suggested the worst. When the creature stopped before entering the trees, it looked directly up at me, its eyes intelligent and calculating. That moment froze me. For ten seconds, we locked eyes through the camera lens, and I felt like it knew exactly who I was.
Then it adjusted the body deliberately, like sending a message: “See what I carry.” And with that, it vanished into the forest.
Chapter 3: Paralysis and Guilt
I circled the clearing for minutes, heart pounding, hands shaking. Should I land and search for tracks? Call the authorities? Head to Camp 3 and alert the crew? Every option felt wrong or dangerous. Landing could provoke the creature; calling the cops sounded insane — who would believe me? I decided to deliver the supplies first, hoping to find out if anyone was missing.
At Camp 3, all the loggers were accounted for. No one was missing. But the foreman mentioned a hiker who had passed through three days earlier, wearing a red jacket and heading into the backcountry. The timeline fit. My stomach sank.
After unloading, I flew back to the depot, struggling to find words to explain what I’d seen. I called the sheriff, gave them coordinates, but left out the word “Bigfoot.” The sheriff promised to send search and rescue, and I showed my supervisor the video. His stunned silence said it all.
The search team found enormous footprints — at least 18 inches long — but no body. The tracks vanished at a creek, as if the creature knew how to hide its trail. The official search was called off after two days.
Chapter 4: Into the Woods
Unable to bear the helplessness, I convinced two fellow pilots to join me for a ground search. We drove as close as possible, then hiked four hours through brutal terrain to reach the clearing. The footprints were still there — massive, deep impressions that dwarfed my size 11 boots. The stride length was over six feet. Nothing human could make those tracks.
We followed them toward the forest edge and found a torn piece of red fabric caught on a branch — the same color as the jacket. We bagged it carefully, proof that what I’d seen was real. The tracks continued into a ravine and disappeared at a creek. We searched upstream and downstream but found no trace beyond that point.
Exhausted and unsettled, we turned back as shadows lengthened. None of us wanted to spend the night in those woods, not knowing what might be watching.
Chapter 5: The Pattern Emerges
Weeks later, I filed a report at the ranger station. The ranger showed me a missing person file — a hiker, 23 years old, last seen wearing a red jacket near the area. The official search had been called off after three weeks. The ranger told me I was the fourth person in ten years to report seeing large figures carrying or dragging human bodies in these mountains. Each time, someone had gone missing, but no bodies were ever found.
This wasn’t coincidence. Something in these woods was taking people, and no one wanted to admit it.
Chapter 6: The Second Sighting
Three weeks after my first sighting, fog forced me to fly lower over the clearing again. Through breaks in the mist, I saw the Bigfoot — same massive figure, same dark fur — but this time it was digging. Using its enormous hands, it cleared earth and rocks near a fallen tree, creating a hole about six feet long and three feet deep — the perfect size for a human body.
It looked up at me, hands covered in dirt, watching quietly. I had coordinates, the chance to call for help, to bring a search party and finally find the hiker’s remains. But fear gripped me. What if the creature attacked? What if we never made it out?
I marked the spot, then flew to Camp 3, hands trembling. I should have acted immediately. Instead, I returned to the depot, filed routine logs, and said nothing.
Chapter 7: The Aftermath
Four days later, the ranger team investigated the site. They found the hole smoothed over, covered with leaves and debris. Ground-penetrating radar revealed no disturbances beneath the surface. The earth looked untouched.
The team expanded their search, finding more massive footprints that vanished mysteriously after short distances. A ranger discovered a small cave nearby, showing signs of recent use by something large, but no remains.
I felt the weight of my failure crushing me. The Bigfoot had used those days to hide evidence. I had waited too long.
Chapter 8: Searching for Closure
Over the next two months, I flew the route obsessively, watching for any sign. I organized three more ground searches with pilots and hunters, covering miles of brutal terrain. We found more footprints, trees stripped high up, trampled undergrowth — signs of something unnatural — but no graves, no bodies.
One day, we found a small clearing with a carefully stacked pile of rocks surrounded by massive footprints. It looked like a marker or warning. Beneath the rocks, nothing but earth. It was as if the creature was toying with us — leaving clues but no answers.
Chapter 9: Living with the Guilt
Camp 3 was shut down months ago — too many incidents, too much fear. I thought about quitting, moving away, but that felt like running away from my failure. So I keep flying, keep watching, hoping for another chance I know won’t come.
The Bigfoot is smart. It’s learned to avoid me, or maybe it’s moved on. The missing hiker’s case remains open but inactive. The family still hopes. I know better. That person isn’t coming home.
Chapter 10: A Haunting Memory
I keep the original video on a secure hard drive. I’ve watched it hundreds of times — the creature’s powerful stride, the careless way it carried the body, those eyes that seemed to pierce through me. I know I should have been braver. I should have done more.
The piece of red fabric was DNA tested and confirmed as belonging to the missing hiker. But without a body, it’s just another fragment of a mystery that may never be solved.
I lie awake most nights replaying that moment. If I’d acted faster, maybe the family would have closure. Maybe they’d have a grave to visit.
Instead, their child is lost somewhere in these mountains, taken by something beyond understanding, and I’m the one who failed them.
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