This past Easter weekend, myself and some colleagues again decided to venture into the mountains to search for evidence for the existence of the Sasquatch.
Being a long weekend with the weather nice, and the fact I have encountered this situation more times in the past than I can count, I should have remembered beforehand that every Tom, Dick and Harry from the cities with campers or a tent head out into the accessible areas of our forests, to consume too much beer, scream and howl like morons, and just behave like spoiled idiots. And let’s not forget going home the last day leaving tons of trash behind.
Such was the case again during this Easter weekend of 2015. We had planned to return to an area of one of my better-known investigations to relive some of my recollections, and search the area once again for a fish stringer a Sasquatch was purported to have stolen from a campsite in 1986.
However, our plans had to change drastically when the the place was found to be over-flowing with campers so numerous, that every pullout within 5 kilometers seemed to have three or four tents and RVs, packed in like sardines.
We ended up traveling approximately 10 kilometers into the high-country before we had any room to search without running into the Bundy family, partying with Adams family. One group of face-panted weirdos, marching down a dirt road, reminded me of a group of hippies in company with a circus freak show; would you believe the head moron was leading the way blowing on a bullhorn which he’d wrapped around his upper torso?
Well, any Sasquatch, or any other wildlife, would have kept well hidden on such an occasion when their normally peaceful wilderness home gets invaded by the, ‘NIGHT OF THE LIVING BRAIN-DEAD’. The ironic thing is: these folks are just the type who, when they learn of our interest in the Sasquatch mystery, have the nerve to call us strange. Some people never grow up.