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A collection of strange
tales about British Columbia's wild men
as told by those who say
they have seen them.
Are the vast mountain solitudes of
British Columbia, of which but very few have been so far, explored,
populated by a hairy race of giants-men not ape-like men? Reports
from time to time, covering a period of many years, have come from
the hinderlands of the province, that hairy giants had been
occasionally seen by Indian and white trappers in the mountain
vastnesses, far from the pathway of civilization. These reports,
however, were always vague and indefinite; for the reason that no
person could be found, or, at least, nobody came forward with the
information that they had obtained a close-up view of these strange
creatures.
Persistent rumors led the writer to
make diligent enquiries among old Indians. The question relating to
the subject was always, or nearly always, evaded with the trite
excuse: "The white man don't believe, he make joke of the Indian."
But after three years of plodding, I have come into possession of
information more definite and authentic than has come to light at
any previous time. Disregarding rumor and hearsay, I have prevailed
upon men who claim they had actual contact with these hairy giants,
to tell what they know about them. Their stories are set down here
in good faith.
The Wild Man at
Agassiz
At Agassiz, near the close of
September, 1927, Indian hop-pickers were having their annual picnic.
A few of the younger people volunteered to pick a mess of berries on
a wooded hillside, a short way from the picnic grounds. They had
only started to pick, when out of the bush stepped a naked hairy
giant. He was first noticed by a girl of the party, who was so badly
frightened that she fell unconscious to the ground. The girl's
sudden collapse was seen by an Indian named Point, of Vancouver, and
as he ran to her assistance, was astonished to see a giant a few
feet away, who continued to walk with an easy gait across the wooded
slope in the direction of the Canadian Pacific railway
tracks.
Since the foregoing paragraph was
written, Mr. Point, replying to an enquiry, has kindly forwarded the
following letter to me, in which he tells of his experience with the
hairy giant:
"Dear Sir:
I have your
letter asking is it true or not that I saw a hairy giant-man at
Agassiz last September, while picking hops there. It is true and
the facts are as follows: This happened at the close of September
(1921) when we were having a feast. Adaline August and myself
walked to her father's orchard, which is about four miles from the
hop fields. We were walking on the railroad track and within a
short distance of the orchard, when the girl noticed something
walking along the track coming toward us. I looked up but paid no
attention to it, as I thought it was some person on his way to
Agassiz. But as he came closer we noticed that his appearance was
very odd, and on coming still closer we stood still and were
astonished - seeing that the creature was naked and covered with
hair like an animal. We were almost paralyzed from fear. I picked
up two stones with which I intended to hit him if he attempted to
molest us, but within fifty feet or so he stood up and looked at
us.
"He was twice as big as the
average man, with hands so long that they almost touched the
ground. It seemed to me that his eyes were very large and the
lower part of his nose was wide and spread over the greater part
of his face, which gave the creature such a frightful appearance
that I ran away as fast as I could. After a minute or two I looked
back and saw that he resumed his journey. The girl had fled before
I left, and she ran so fast that I did not overtake her until I
was close to Agassiz, where we told the story of our adventure to
the Indians who were still enjoying themselves. Old Indians who
were present said: the wild man was no doubt a "Sasquatch," a
tribe of hairy people whom they claim have always lived in the
mountains - in tunnels and caves."
Do hairy giants inhabit the mountain
solitudes of British Columbia? Many Indians, besides those quoted,
are sincerely convinced that the "Sasquatch," a few of them at
least, still live in the little known interior of the province.
Peter Williams lives on the Chehalis Reserve. I believe that he is a
reliable as well as an intelligent Indian. He gave me the following
thrilling account of his experience with these people.
Peter's Encounter with
the Giant, 1907
One evening in the month of May twenty
years ago," he said, "I was walking along the foot of the mountain
about a mile from the Chehalis Reserve. I thought I heard a noise
something like a grunt nearby. Looking in the direction in which it
came, I was startled to see what I took at first sight to be a huge
bear crouched upon a boulder twenty or thirty feet away. I raised my
rifle to shoot it, but, as I did, the creature stood up and let out
a piercing yell. It was a man - a giant, no less than six and
one-half feet in height, and covered with hair. He was in a rage and
jumped from the boulder to the ground. I fled, but not before I felt
his breath upon my cheek.
"I never ran so fast before or since -
through brush and undergrowth toward the Statloo, or Chehalis River,
where my dugout was moored. From time to time, I looked back over my
shoulder. The giant was fast overtaking me - a hundred feet
separated us; another look and the distance measured less than fifty
- then the Chehalis and in a moment the dugout shot across the
stream to the opposite bank. The swift river, however, did not in
the least daunt the giant, for he began to wade it
immediately.
"I arrived home almost worn out from
running and I felt sick. Taking an anxious look around the house, I
was relieved to find the wife and children inside. I bolted the door
and barricaded it with everything at hand. Then with my rifle ready,
I stood near the door and awaited his coming."
Peter added that if he had not been so
much excited he could easily have shot the giant when he began to
wade the river. After an anxious waiting of twenty minutes," resumed
the Indian, "I heard a noise approaching like the trampling of a
horse. I looked through a crack in the old wall. It was the giant.
Darkness had not yet set in and I had a good look at him. Except
that he was covered with hair and twice the bulk of the average man,
there was nothing to distinguish him from the rest of us. He pushed
against the wall of the old house with such force that it shook back
and forth. The old cedar shook and timbers creaked and groaned so
much under the strain that I was afraid it would fall down and kill
us. I whispered to the old woman to take the children under the
bed." Peter pointed out what remained of the old house in which he
lived at the time, explaining that the giant treated it so roughly
that it had to be abandoned the following winter.
"After prowling and grunting like an
animal around the house," continued Peter, "he went away. We were
glad, for the children and the wife were uncomfortable under the old
bedstead. Next morning I found his tracks in the mud around the
house, the biggest of either man or beast I had ever seen. The
tracks measured twenty-two inches in length, but narrow in
proportion to their length."
The following winter while shooting
wild duck on that part of the reserve Indians call the "prairie,"
which is on the north side of the Harrison River and about two miles
from the Chehalis village. Peter once more came face to face with
the same hairy giant. The Indian ran for dear life, followed by the
wild man, but after pursuing him for three or four hundred yards the
giant gave up the chase.
Old village Indians, who called upon
Peter to hear of his second encounter, nodded their heads sagely,
shrugged their shoulders, and for some reason not quite clear,
seemed not to wish the story to gain further publicity.
In the afternoon of the same day
another Indian by the name of Paul was chased from the creek, where
he was fishing for salmon, by the same individual. Paul was in a
state of terror, for unlike Peter he had no gun. A short distance
from his shack the giant suddenly quit and walked into the bush.
Paul, exhausted from running, fell in the snow and had to be carried
home by his mother and others of the family.
"The first and second time," Peter went
on, "I was all alone when I met this strange mountain creature.
Then, early in the spring of the fellowing year, another man and
myself were bear hunting near the place where I first met him. On
this occasion we ran into two of these giants. They were sitting on
the ground. At first we thought they were old tree stumps, but when
we were within fifty feet or so, they suddenly stood up and we came
to an immediate stop. Both were nude. We were close enough to know
that they were man and woman. The woman was the smaller of the two,
but neither of them as big or fierce-looking as the giant that
chased me. We ran home, but they did not follow us."
One morning, some few weeks after this,
Peter and his wife were fishing in a canoe on the Harrison River,
near Harrison Bay. Paddling round a neck of land they saw, on the
beach within a hundred feet of them, the giant Peter had met the
previous year. We stood for a long time looking at him." said the
Indian, "but he took no notice of us - that was the last time,"
concluded Peter, "I saw him."
Peter remarked that his
father and numbers of old Indians knew that wild men lived in caves
in the mountains - had often seen them. He wished to make it clear
that these creatures were in no way related to the Indian. He
believes there are a few of them living at present in the mountains
near Agassiz.
Charley Victor's
Story
Charley Victor belongs to the Skwah
Reserve near Chilliwack. In his younger days he was known as one of
the best hunters in the province and had many thrilling adventures
in his time.
Did he know anything about the hairy
ape-like men who were supposed to inhabit the distant mountains?
Charley smiled, and answered that he had a slight acquaintance with
them. He had been in what he thought was one of their houses. "And
that is not all," said he. "I met and spoke to one of their women,
and I shot..." But let Charley tell the story himself.
"The strange people, of whom there are
but few now - rarely seen and seldom met - " said the old hunter,
"are known by the name of Sasquatch, or, 'the hairy mountain
men'.
"The first time I came to know about
these people," continued the old man, "I did not see anybody. Three
young men and myself were picking salmonberries on a rocky mountain
slope some five or six miles from the old town of Yale. In our
search for berries we suddenly stumbled upon a large opening in the
side of the mountain. This discovery greatly surprised all of us,
for we knew every foot of the mountain, and never knew nor heard
there was a cave in the vicinity.
"Outside the mouth of the cave there
was an enormous boulder. We peered into the cavity but couldn't see
anything. "We gathered some pitchwood, lighted it and began to
explore. But before we glot very far from the entrance of the cave,
we came upon a sort of stone house or enclosure: it was a crude
affair. We couldn't make a thorough examination, for our pitchwood
kept going out. We left, intending to return in a couple of days and
go on exploring. Old Indians, to whom we told the story of our
discovery, warned us not to venture near the cave again, as it was
surely occupied by the Sasquatch. That was the first time I heard
about the hairy men that inhabit the mountains. We, however,
disregarded the advice of the old men and sneaked off to explore the
cave, but to our great disappointment found the boulder rolled back
into its mouth and fitting it so nicely that you might suppose it
had been made for that purpose."
Charley intimated that he hoped to have
enough money some day to buy sufficient dynamite to blow open the
cave of the Sasquatch, and see how far it extends through the
mountain.
The Indian then took up the thread of
his story and told of his first meeting with one of these men. A
number of other Indians and himself were bathing in a small lake
near Yale. He was dressing, when suddenly out from behind a rock,
only a few feet away, stepped a nude hairy man. "Oh! he was a big,
big man!" continued the old hunter. "He looked at me for a moment,
his eyes were so kind-looking that I was about to speak to him, when
he turned about and walked into the forest."
At the same place two weeks later,
Charley, together with several of his companions saw the giant, but
this time he ran toward the mountain. This was twenty years after
the discovery of the cave.
Charley Shoots a
Sasquatch Boy
I don't know if I should tell you or
not about the awful experience I had with these wicked people about
fifteen years ago in the mountains near Hatzie." The old man rubbed
his knee, and said he disliked recalling that disagreeable meeting -
it was a tragedy from which he had not yet fully
recovered.
"I was hunting in the mountains near
Hatzie." he resumed. "I had my dog with me. I came out on a plateau
where there were several big cedar trees. The dog stood before one
of the trees and began to growl and bark at it. On looking up to see
what excited him, I noticed a large hole in the tree seven feet from
the ground. The dog pawed and leaped upon the trunk, and looked at
me to raise him up, which I did, and he went into the hole. The next
moment a muffled cry came from the hole.
I said to myself: 'The
dog is tearing into a bear.' and with my rifle ready, I urged the
dog to drive him out, and out came something I took for a bear. I
shoot and it fell with a thud to the ground. 'Murder! Oh my!' I
spoke to myself in surprise and alarm, for the thing I had shot
looked to me like a white boy. He was nude. He was about twelve or
fourteen years of age."
In his description of the boy, Charley
said that his hair was black and woolly. Wounded and bleeding, the
poor fellow sprawled upon the ground, but when I drew close to
examine the extent of his injury, he let out a wild yell, or rather
a call as if he were appealing for help. From across the mountain a
long way off rolled a booming voice. Near and more near came the
voice and every now and again the boy would return an answer as if
directing the owner of the voice. Less than a half-hour, out from
the depths of the forest came the strangest and wildest creature one
could possibly see.
"I raised my rifle, not to shoot, but
in case I would have to defend myself. The hairy creature, for that
was what it was, walked toward me without the slightest fear. The
wild person was a woman. Her face was almost negro black and her
long straight hair fell to her waist. In height she would be about
six feet, but her chest and shoulders were well above the average in
breadth."
Charley remarked that he had met
several wild people in his time, but had never seen anyone half so
savage in appearance as this woman. The old brave confessed he was
really afraid of her. "In my time," said the old man, "and this is
no boast, I have in more than one emergency strangled bear with my
hands, but I'm sure if that wild woman laid hands on me, she'd break
every bone in my body.
"She cast a hasty glance at the boy.
Her face took on a demoniacal expression when she saw he was
bleeding. She turned upon me savagely, and in the Douglas tongue
said: "You have shot my friend."
"I explained in the same language - for
I'm part Douglas myself - that I had mistaken the boy for a bear and
that I was sorry. She did not reply. but began a sort of wild frisk
or dance around the boy, chanting in a loud voice for a minute or
two, and, as if in answer to her, from the distant woods came the
same sort of chanting troll. In her hand she carried something like
a snake, about six feet in length, but thinking over the matter
since, I believe it was the intestine of some animal. But whatever
it was, she constantly struck the ground with it. She picked up the
boy with one hairy hand, with as much ease as if he had been a wax
doll."
At this point of the story, Charley
began to make pictures in the sand with his maple stick, and paused
or reflected so long that we thought he had come to the end of his
narrative, when he suddenly looked up, and said with a grin:
"Perhaps I better tell you the rest of it, although I know you'll
not believe it. There was a challenge of defiance in her black eyes
and dark looks," Charley went on, "as she faced and spoke to me a
second time and the dreadful words she used set me shaking."
"You
remember them?" I asked.
"Remember them," he repeated, "they
still ring round my old ears like the echo of a thunder-storm. She
pointed the snake-like thing at me and said: "Siwash, you'll never
kill another bear." The old hunter's eyes moistened when he admitted
that he had not shot a bear or anything else since that fatal
day.
"Her words, expression, and the savage
avenging glint in her dark, fiery eyes filled me with fear,"
confessed the Indian, "and I felt so exhausted from her unwavering
gaze that I was no longer able to keep her covered with my rifle. I
let it drop."
Charley has been paralyzed for the last
eight years, and he is inclined to think that the words of the wild
woman had something to do with it.
The old man told how his "brave dog
that never turned from any bear nor cougar," lay whimpering and
shivering at his feet while the Sasquatch woman was speaking,
"just," said Charley, "as if he understood the meaning of her
words."
The old man said that she spoke the
words "Yahoo, yahoo" frequently in a loud voice, and always received
a similar reply from the mountain.
The old hunter felt sure that the woman
Indian looked somewhat like the wild man he had seen at Yale many
years before, although the woman was the darker of the two. He did
not think the boy belonged to the Sasquatch people, "because he was
white and she called him her friend," reasoned Charley. "They must
have stolen him or run across him in some other way," he
added.
"Indians," said Charley, "have always
known that wild men lived in the distant mountains, within sixty and
one hundred miles east of Vancouver, and of course they may live in
other places throughout the province, but I have never heard of it.
It is my own opinion since I met that wild woman fifteen years ago
that because she spoke the Douglas tongue these creatures must be
related to the Indian."
©
MacLean's Magazine, authored by J.W. Burns, April 1929
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