The Cabin at the End of Herrick Road. Derek Wachter
if there are any sounds to report. If this does not yield any data this evening, then I will try older methods of investigating of striking a small tree with a stick and see if I get a response back from within the forest.”
Craig turned the small audio recorder off, setting it back down onto the table. Craig looked up and saw the night sky—not a cloud in the sky, peculiar for the Elwha Valley in March. In March the valley gets approximately five inches of rain on average. Craig felt he was lucky tonight and perhaps he may finally get the research and evidence he needs to prove the existence of Sasquatch.
Craig followed his plan that he had set out for himself on his audio recorder. Craig found the thermal imaging camera on his table; powering on the device he quickly found that the camera’s batteries were dying. The red flashing battery in the corner of the device told him so.
“Shit n’ shinola,” said Craig as he shook his head from side to side. “This night is already starting off wrong.”
Craig walked back toward the trailer. Opening the door, he stepped in and found Max laying on the floor of the trailer by the bed. Max looked at Craig and he noticed that Max’s eyes almost showed a sign of fear or anxiety, something not normal for his demeanor.
“Max, what’s wrong? What’s wrong, boy?” asked Craig, as he fumbled through a small drawer by the security monitor. Finding four double-A batteries, Craig swapped out the old batteries from the camera and put the new in. Craig stepped back out of the trailer and walked past his setup table toward the riverbank. Craig powered the camera on that now read it had batteries with full life in it. Craig brought the camera up and began scanning the forest environment around him as well as the riverbanks. Craig scanned all around him looking for any source of a heat signature. He didn’t find anything on the thermal cameras—disappointing but encouraging as this proved that there were no other animals in the area, for what Craig could see through the camera at least. Craig continued to scan the area with the thermal camera, but no matter where he looked, whether it was along the banks of the river or into the deep dark forest, Craig couldn’t see anything giving off any type of a body heat source. The thermal imaging camera had failed. Craig walked back toward the table of equipment and set the camera down on the table. Craig moved on to the parabolic dish along with the earphones. Craig placed the earphones on his head and around his ears and powered the parabolic dish on. Batteries were at three quarter life in the parabolic dish. Good enough as Craig began to scan the area with the dish, trying to pick up distant audio from within the forest.
“God damn it!” said Craig, as all he could pick up were the amplified sounds of crickets, frogs, and insects—louder than they were before now. There had to have been crickets for what went on for miles the way he was picking up the chirping sounds on the dish. Craig instantly powered off the parabolic dish, took the headphones off, and set them down on the table. He had only one other thing to try now. The recording sounds from the audio recording from his past investigations looped over and over again on a play cycle. Craig turned the megaphone and amplifier on and pressed play on the audio equipment. The recorder played the sounds of screaming and loud guttural bellowing that blared through the megaphone into the darkness of the pacific northwestern forest. It played nonstop for nearly ten full minutes across the river water, through the forest. Craig stood back while the sound penetrated through the darkness of nightfall until the recording ended and all sound stopped. Craig also noticed that when it came to the sounds that were there before—insects, crickets, frogs, everything—fell quiet. Craig grabbed ahold of the parabolic dish, along with the headphones, turned the dish on, and listened. There was something different about listening through the parabolic dish this time though. Indeed all the insects and frogs in the area that were making sound before, all fell silent. The only sound that Craig heard now was the sound of the running water in the river—and something else. Craig listened intently and focused the parabolic dish on a sound that was coming from deep within the dark forest. The sound sounded similar to heavy branches snapping, popping one by one. It was impossible to determine from how far away the sounds were coming from, other than the direction was clearly coming from the heavily wooded area just behind his camper trailer. Craig listened intently as the snapping sound lasted for nearly a minute, until the snapping sound stopped and everything fell quiet again. Craig continued to scan the forest with the parabolic dish, but for the next few moments after the sounds of snapping tree limbs, Craig couldn’t hear anything more than the river water running behind him. Craig set the parabolic dish and headphones down on the table. Grabbing his audio recorder, he turned the recorder on and began recording.
“Time is currently 8:35 p.m. After playing the audio recording of the creature’s screams and vocalization for approximately ten minutes, I grabbed the parabolic dish and began listening through the headphones. Off in the distance behind the trailer, coming south from the Elwha Valley and from the Olympic Forest, I could distinctly hear the sound of tree limbs snapping in the distance. Perhaps the snapping was coming from another animal, or perhaps something else. A scan of the area with the thermal imager camera revealed absolutely no targeted heat marks in the forest or along the riverbanks. Currently, I am going to try and strike a tree with a stick, let the sound echo in the forest, and see if I get a response back from this form of communication.
Craig finished his audio recording and set the audio recorder back down on the table. Grabbing his flashlight from the table, Craig scoured the area and found a stick about the length and circumference of a baseball bat. Craig walked around the south side of the trailer, up to the darkened tree line. He walked up to a tree and paused for a moment looking into the darkness of the forest with his flashlight. It was incredible that even the light of his flashlight was swallowed up by the darkness of the forest. While Craig stared out into the vast darkness of the pacific northwestern forest, he couldn’t help shake the feeling of being watched by someone or something from within the darkness. Craig turned his flashlight off and stuck it in his coat pocket. He began striking the side of the nearest aspen tree with the piece of wood he had found on the ground. The knockings from the wood slapping against the side of the tree echoed into the darkness of the night. Craig swung the piece of wood into the tree six more times and then paused to wait for a response. Craig heard nothing in reply, and yet he still heard no crickets or frogs in the night. No chirping insects, no croaking toads—there was just nothing there.
Craig again swung the piece of wood into the side of the tree six more times, the sounds of the echoing strikes being driven into the forest, echoing one on top of the other. Craig stopped and listened into the night. Nothing. No response. Again, Craig struck the side of the tree six more times with the piece of wood, and again he heard no reply back.
“Well, must have been some sort of animal that had made the sound of tree limbs breaking in the distance,” said Craig to himself. Craig set the piece of wood down on the ground and reached into his pocket for his flashlight. Turning around to walk back, he clicked the flashlight on. In that moment, Craig heard a sound from behind him—off in the distance of the woods, south, toward the mountain range—the sound of wood clanking against wood. Craig stopped in his tracks and turned to look into the forest with his flashlight. Again, Craig’s light was swallowed by the darkness of the forest. The sounds of knocking came again from the forest, this time sounding closer than before, but still far off in the distance, south of the trailer. Craig clicked his flashlight off and bent down to pick up the piece of wood from off the ground. Craig gripped the wood like a baseball bat and swung into the tree six more times, each time causing an echo sound to reverberate into the forest. Craig waited for a moment and heard a reply—more knocking of wood coming from within the forest. This time four distinctive knocks in reply back to his six. Craig chuckled to himself. He was certain that he was communicating with what he thought to be a Sasquatch through the communication of tree knocking. Craig again struck the tree six more times with his piece of wood, then quietly listened for a response back. Craig heard silence in the night. He continued to pause for a moment to listen but heard nothing in response. Then Craig heard it—the knocking of wood striking a tree, but from much closer than before. Craig would have estimated now maybe fifty yards away from where he was standing. The sound of the knocking being so close startled Craig back a couple steps toward the trailer. Craig gathered his emotions and then laughed to himself, took the piece of wood, walked up to the tree again, smashed it into the tree four more times this time, and listened. The