1989 -- "The report I sent previously went, I believe, to the IVBC first. Nonetheless Bobbie, here is the first account that constituted somewhat of a turning point in my involvement with Sasquatch research. I interviewed the family shortly after the event - that is all they could talk about. So here it is:

The report is dated: Mid-June, 1989 about 8:30 PM, clear sky, sunshine and pleasant temperature. Just south of the small community of Yacolt, Washington. Yacolt lies 21 miles NE of Vancouver, Washington, 26 miles SW of Mt. St. Helens, 7 Miles S of Lake Merwin and the Yale Reservoir [the latter a repeated site of encounters].

Mrs. Brenda G., a young mother, German, recently moved to Washington from the US South, doing dishes; her 15-and-a-half-year old son Nick, a short but muscular and macho kid, doing homework; her 5 year-old son, John, playing outside on the lawn; two dogs, one pony. The father worked away from home at the time of the event. The area contained a two-story home on a country road, surrounded by minimal lawns bordered by deep, steeply rising forest across the road to the west; behind the house abandoned fields, overgrown with brush and wildflowers, mixed with groves of evergreens. Several hundred feet separate neighboring houses.

Brenda, washing the dinner dishes, looking out over her backyard, past the horse corral with its pony and off into the distance, notices that suddenly the horse becomes unruly. She calls to Nick: "Nick, there are some kids out there trying to tease the horse," and steps out the kitchen back door with a BB-gun in her hands for good measure.

Nick races out past her and some distance down the overgrown meadow along the stand of trees, where he comes abruptly face to face with a Sasquatch standing on the indistinct footpath. Nick comes to such a "screeching halt" that he slides on moist vegetation and sits down on the ground. For reassurance he throws a backward look to his mother who, however, has returned to the house. When he looks back at the Sasquatch, it is already walking with long strides across the brush and wildflower covered meadow, "lifting up his feet more than people do." As Nick scrambles to get up, a branch snaps and the Sasquatch turns to look at him "with big eyes."

Nick runs back into the house, tearing the screen door off its hinges in the process, to tell his mother about the creature and to change into boots from his slippery loafers. Then he charges back out, taking a large army bayonet from over the fireplace for protection, with Brenda close behind. Their two dogs have retreated under the house.

As he runs down through the same meadow, the sasquatch is still walking about there, retreats downhill, crosses a small creek and stops on the far bank of the creek under a fir tree to face his pursuers, his entire body bathed in sunlight and visible from head to toe. Nick stops about 30' away, his mother stands about 15' behind Nick. This silent tableau holds its place for what seems an extraordinarily long time, perhaps 5 minutes, although Nick's and Brenda's estimates, colored by the adrenalin of the encounter, range as high as 20 minutes. Whatever length of time passes, it gives Nick and Brenda the opportunity for detailed inspection of the Sasquatch.

They describe it as being 6' 6" tall (as measured against a branch that barely touched the crown of its head), covered with black-gray fur and golden brown patches on its shoulders and chests in it. The head is notable for its pronounced brow ridge and deep set eyes, that are "less open than human eyes" (facing into the sun). It has a wide and stumpy nose, the hairiness under the nose getting thicker, hiding the jaw line. It has impressively wide shoulders ("Man, they were this wide!", Nick holds his hands far apart in retelling), heavy arms, wide hands with thick fingers and dark brown and rough palms. Its nails have a deep yellow "nicotine-stained" color. Its torso narrows somewhat to the waist, no genitals are visible in the fur, and it has "sort of a small butt for a man", according to Brenda's astute assessment. Both observers perceive the creature as a male. Neither of them detected any smell.

In due time Brenda gets the "willies" and anxiously screams to Nick to break it off. Thereupon the Sasquatch screams, takes a step across the creek toward them, while holding its arms out to the side by about 45°, as if to herd them on their way. They run halfway up the hill to the house, when Nick feels compelled to give it one more look. He is rewarded by a repeat of the faintly aggressive display. They continue to the house, Brenda scooping up John from the lawn, who says: "Mommy, there is a big monkey in our backyard." Brenda climbs up on the low garage roof and watches the Sasquatch walk away. The dogs stay under the house for a safe two hours and will not let themselves be coaxed out, even by having a steak waved at them. The horse has substantial abrasions on its fetlocks from having gotten snagged on a rope in its panic.

Brenda phoned 911, but hung up before the call is answered. After some time she phones back after all and reports the encounter, which is duly noted in the police blotter, but not acted upon. Only an alert reporter from the Vancouver Columbian catches the brief note and looks up the family. This reporter and several Sasquatch investigators canvas the surroundings and neighbors and come up with a few additional items. The reporter brought me some hair to look at, which I did (hair was not Sasquatch).

Two sets of footprints are found, 12" long and 6" long, whereupon Brenda puts a roast chicken into a high tree fork, since she wants to see the "baby." An adjacent unused meadow has a large depressed area of grass in it. A patch of thimbleberries is found on the steep hillside to have been stripped of its fruit and leaves, leaving bare canes behind. The adjacent farmer's cows, which had just been turned loose for the summer into a higher, lush meadow, come rushing back to the barn that night, something the farmer had never observed before. After about a week, little John comments casually: "The little monkey isn't coming to play anymore."

Commentary: The circumstances suggest that a young Sasquatch was wandering through the countryside in the company of an older sibling (young male), providing the impetus for the unusual confrontational, protective display.

The narrow waist suggests a young male. Yellow color of nails is probably a function of thick keratin. Dirtiness seems to be the rule for spring sightings.

The wild thimbleberry vines were evidently cleaned by sliding the hand along the cane from the ground up.

Despite the apparent lack of smell, dogs, horse and cows reacted without very close encounters.

An effort to attract the Sasquatch by baiting (hibachi glowing for hours in the meadow with hot dogs on it, strategically scattered doughnuts etc.) and viewing the surround during an ensuing night with night vision binoculars proved fruitless.

The final comment by John about playing with the "little monkey" has to be weighed against the exclusive and pervasive Sasquatch talk after the event by the adults, family and visitors alike and, conversely, a Sasquatch was seen above a nearby lumber mill about 4 years earlier. Nick had been sleeping on the screened porch of the house and had heard noises (rustling brush) and "slapping" footsteps on the street during the night. Earlier in the same year, while a Little League baseball game was in progress at the Yacolt ballpark, a Sasquatch stepped out of the forest in full view of the spectators in the bleachers and briefly viewed the game in progress before retreating into the forest. A neighbor and his daughter saw the Sasquatch on an evening after the G.'s sighting, but refused to talk about it to investigators.

A couple of investigators from Seattle arrived and proceeded to establish a camp in the early evening on the steep hillside, where the thimbleberry patch had been found.

After several hours, about 11 PM, they came racing down the hillside, dragging their unfolded tent and sleeping bags behind in disarray, got into their VW van and left without further comment, never to be heard from again.

That is a rich story, isn't it? We made an effort to have an artist draw a portrait from Nick's description but she moved away and the sketch I have is not very convincing."

© From the files of Dr. Henner Fahrenbach, Ph.D., Sunday 1 February 1998.

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