1 week Ago By By Brendan Quealy
The hesitancy I have to both write and publish this is rather strong, but I’ve told my story to enough people — people who didn’t look at me like I was flying over the cuckoo’s nest — that I’ve rustled up the courage to just go ahead and say it. I saw Bigfoot. Or should I say, I saw a Bigfoot or a Sasquatch or the Michigan Dogman or a cryptid or whatever.
I saw I giant, brown, hairy creature that was too large to be human and too upright to be an animal. Before you write me off, you should know that I considered myself a bit of a skeptic before my close encounter with the furry kind. Skepticism is an occupational hazard of being a journalist.
It just comes with the territory. Sure, I loved the folklore and the tall tales that have been told throughout the years. I wouldn’t say I outright rejected the idea of these types of legends being real, but I certainly wasn’t a strong believer in the truth of such stories.
I did, however believe that the people recounting their sightings believed what they saw, but that was about as far as it went. Now, just call me Fox Mulder because the truth is out there — far out there — and so is Bigfoot. I won’t give too many details of the where and the when.
Mainly because I don’t want one of my rather remote and isolated hiking spots blown up by a bunch of people also trying to catch a glimpse of the big man. I prefer my hikes with just me and my dogs and as few humans around as possible. I guess I have that in common with Sasquatch.
Plus, I feel like Bigfoot should just be left alone — and I think he prefers his life of isolation. He seemed content, relaxed, unbothered. So why bother him? After my sighting, I got the impression that Michigan Dogman isn’t all that interested in interacting with humans.
And who can blame him? Or her? Or it? That’s part of the reason why I didn’t follow him back into the wilderness when he disappeared from my sight. That and I didn’t want to risk the life of my dog. So I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version of my sighting.
My dog, Saint, and I were about two and a half hours into our hike. We’d driven somewhere, parked and then gone off trail as soon as we could so he could have some freedom to run, explore and sniff around until his heart was content. We’d made it to the shoreline, giving Saint the chance to get a drink and wash the dirt and sand out of his mouth after he’d done a little digging.
The waves on the lake were big. Big enough that they would keep most people out of the water, and big enough that they soaked my hiking boots more than a few times as we walked along the shore — no matter how quick I thought I was to avoid them. I’ve become a bit of a rockhound as I’ve gotten older, and the shoreline of Lake Michigan can be an absolute treasure trove of geological wonders.
Suffice it to say, I’d picked up a few as we walked, keeping my head down to try a spot a good one here or there. As we made our way around a bend, I saw what looked like part of a tree sticking up in the water. Maybe about five or six feet into the lake.
I thought it was odd, but I also thought it couldn’t be anything other than the trunk of a dead tree. That was the only logical thing to think. Until it moved.
Saint had gotten a bit ahead of me, and this “tree” was less than a football field’s length away from us. I whistled for Saint to come back, and when I did ..
. boy, how do I write this? When I whistled, the “tree” turned and looked in our direction. The tall, somewhat lanky figure with legs that got wider at the bottom and was all dark brown from head to toe had to be somewhere between 9 to 12 feet tall.
I remember that I continued walking, seemingly unfazed by what I was seeing because my brain had not yet registered what I was seeing. Before I had the chance to drop the rocks in my hands and take my phone out to record the giant, he lumbered back onto shore and then cleared a dune taller than he was in three or four steps. The way he walked was the most memorable thing to me.
He moved slowly and deliberately, without worry or fear. He seemed unbothered by me, but he wasn’t going to stick around to have a chat about the rocks I’d found. By the time I got to where he’d been standing, the waves had washed away any footprints that would have been left behind in the wet sand.
The only thing I saw that could have been tracks were these craters in the sand leading up the dune that no human could have walked up as easily as this creature did. Of course, I was tempted to follow. My curiosity was at DEFCON 1, but I wasn’t going to risk becoming a threat to this thing and endangering my life and the life of Saint.
So I ventured on, trying to come to grips with what I’d seen and trying to find ways to explain it away with something logical that made sense — because me seeing Bigfoot just didn’t make sense. About an hour and a half later, Saint and I were back at the car. I called my younger sister, an avid believer, and did my best to recount my story with adrenaline still coursing through my body as I realized that I’d really and truly seen what I had just seen.
She believed me. And the rest of my family believed me when I told them the story that brought tears to my eyes for some reason. I know it sounds crazy.
I know many of you won’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe it either. I don’t believe it because I know it.
I know what I saw. I know that I saw Bigfoot, and I know that Bigfoot is real..
