Bigfoot of Bluff Creek

Jett Lucus: Cryptid Investigator 2

“The above picture is a still from the footage of Bigfoot. It was shot by Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin in 1967 within the wilds of Bluff Creek a tributary of the Klamath river near Orleans California. Patterson and Gimlin had been interested in documenting the creature for sometime. They’d gone to film eyewitness reports and alluded to buying a costume to recreate some of the events. Although they claim this footage is one hundred percent real. They also collected foot prints of the creature and tell the tale of chasing it for 1 to three miles before losing sight of it that day. What do you think? Answer in the comments.”

Join Jett Lucus here to catch up on his encounter with Moth Man

I wrote this story in answer to the following prompts:
FOWC with Fandango — Epitome
Ragtag Daily Prompt — Lineament
Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge 470 — Lurking – Started – There
Word of the Day Challenge — Awkward

Bigfoot of Bluff Creek

“Hello, YouTubers! It’s me Jett Lucas on another cryptozoological adventure. My friends, since my attempt to discover Mothman at the West Virginia Ordnance Works, many of you have asked me to seek out Bigfoot. The sunny road we’re driving along now is ‘Highway 96’ otherwise known as the ‘Bigfoot Highway’ and the entryway to Bluff Creek. Let’s go and see if Patterson and Gimlin really did find Bigfoot here in 1967.”  

Jett pulled his beaten-up blue Jeep Wrangler to a stop just before a bridge marking the start of the national forest. Alighting from the vehicle he pulled his rucksack on and parked his Stetson on his salt-and-pepper hair. Collecting his camera from the dashboard, he aimed it at a sign for ‘Bluff Creek’ adorned with a Bigfoot sticker. “Okay, Bigfoot. We’re coming to find you,” he said with a big smile on his face.

From the road, Jett was able to look down at the creek far below. This forested area was treacherous, to say the least. Undeterred, he started down the track. If there was an unknown cryptid lurking here, he was going to find it.

“Wow! It’s ninety-five Fahrenheit, I hope bigfoot is sweating as much as I am today.” Jett said for the camera. “I’m hoping to find a spot where Patterson and Gimlin shot the film of the creature fifty-three years ago. Those two men didn’t just make the film; they told the story of chasing the Bigfoot they called ‘Patty’ for between one and three miles on horseback before losing her in the thick undergrowth somewhere along the creek below us. That means we have to look everywhere if we’re to find the being some of us call Sasquatch.”

Soon the sunlight was reduced to dappled, green rays glittering upon mosquitoes in the thick forest. Jett found himself enjoying the sound of the birds chirping away in the canopy as he meandered along the steep, oftentimes awkward track. He spotted squirrels and a few deer along the way. This to him was the epitome of a good adventure. There was no illusion, this rugged forest with its steep hillsides, inaccessible valleys and many tributaries leading to the Klamath River was a great place for a cryptid to live, almost, unnoticed.  As it was bears and mountain lions lived here and yet you be hard-pressed to find them.

As the afternoon wore on, Jett came down upon Bluff Creek. Crystal clear waters flowed over large boulders and the stony bed of the creek. “This feels like the most relaxing place to be. Despite that, it feels sinister. There doesn’t seem to be as many birds singing down here at the bottom of the creek. I feel as if I’m being watched as well.” Jett felt a shudder run through him as he panned the camera over a rocky fellside. “Let’s go upstream and find a place to camp.”

Jett walked on for another hour following the creek. He came upon a place which looked almost exactly like the footage he’d seen of Bigfoot in this area. Selecting a flat area under a tree, he took out his pop-up tent. It was then as he laid it upon the ground, he heard a screeching howl. It was not unlike the sound of a wolf and yet it sent panic racing through his body. “I don’t know if you could hear that on camera. It may, or may not be a wolf. Either way, we’re no longer alone.”

Checking his Desert Eagle was loaded and primed in case he needed it, Jett stood in silence stroking his beard. Waiting — hoping Bigfoot was about to visit him.

As darkness descended over the creek, Jett decided to abandon his camping plan. He just knew something was watching them higher on the hillside and desired to chase it down. “If you won’t come to me. I’m coming up to find you.” Angling his camera toward the trees above him, Jett crossed the creek, upsetting a few steelhead salmon lazily floating there. On the far bank, he began mantling his way toward the eyes he felt watching him. The going was tough. Loose rocks slipped out from beneath his feet. He regularly slipped down his knees and only his determination kept him climbing onward. “No, wonder they call this place the ‘Bowling Alley’ my bloody knee caps feel like the pins!”

Jett reached a flat area and perched on a boulder to regain his breath. Something shot from the pine and oak trees, whizzing past his ear and cracking off the rocks. A gasp escaped his lips as a bead of sweat trickled into his beard. “I’ve — just had a rock thrown at me! How I wish I had a thermal imaging camera — right now.” Jett took a deep breath forcing down growing anxiety and fears brought on by the vulnerability of being alone. All the time he kept his eyes on a swivel.  “Who or whatever threw that; is right in there, I’m sure of it.”

Rising to his feet, Jett carefully moved into the tree line. He took up a sizeable stick and rapped it hard against a tree trunk, twice. “Squatcher’s who regularly hunt for Bigfoot; say he communicates by rapping on trees. Just like this.” Jett whacked the tree once more sending the hollow boom throughout the forest.

Another crack answered him from a short distance away.

“Hear that? I think we have contact,” Jett hit the tree.

A reply came back before his had even fallen silent. The communication continued until a wolflike howl ended the game.

Jett tried his best to imitate the howl. No reply came, leaving an eerie silence pressing upon his shoulders, he played his flashlight over the dark and trees. “Where are —” the beam flashed upon yellow eyes – eight-feet off the ground. Reddish-grey fur seemed to surround that humanlike lineament and then it was gone. “Did you see that! I think I found Patty!” Jett set off running toward what he’d seen.

His determination to catch the creature was foolish. His foot snagged upon roots and undergrowth which sent him sprawling. Unable to halt himself, he tumbled downhill through the forest towards the creek. Plunging through a bush, he lost the camera and his Stetson. It was only his leg becoming trapped which finally broke his fall.

“Stupid, old fool!” he groaned as he lay there examining himself for injuries. Luck was on his side, he’d only sustained cuts and bruises. The big issue was the vine which caught him. Try as he might, he couldn’t reach up high enough to free his right boot.

For half-an-hour, he wrestled to free himself to no avail. Exhausted and wracked with pain, he lay back to rest awhile. Heavy silence remained around him. After some time, it was disturbed by the crackling of branches. A snuffling noise reached Jett’s ears from the bush he fell through. Propping himself up, he was surprised to see a painfully thin -looking Golden Labrador edging toward him.

“Hey, there, girl. Don’t suppose you could help a fellow out, could you?” Jett beckoned softly.

The dog gave a small bark, sniffed around his boot and began chewing through the vine.

Between canine and man, Jett was soon free. He sat up and took a packet of broken biscuits from his rucksack. “Here you are. You deserve this as a reward for saving me.” Jett ate a biscuit and then offered some to the dog.

Tentative at first, the Labrador crept closer to him and nibbled on the biscuit. Realising she was safe, she soon gobbled a fair few.

Jett could see she had no collar and knew she was a stray. It was a miracle she was surviving out here with the dangerous predators. “You know, I could do with a partner, on my adventures. Wouldn’t care to join me with you?”

The dog seemed to smile in that awkward opened-mouthed way they did. She nuzzled closer and licked his face.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” Jett smoothed her ears. “You shall be known as Sally in honour of my first and only wife. She died of cancer you know. I trust you won’t leave me the same way, will you?”

Sally gave him an excited bark and licked his face again.

“At a girl, Sally. Let’s see if we can’t get back to my truck. We’ll go into town and find you a bath and some proper food.” Jett ambled to his feet and retrieved his camera and hat. With that, he and Sally set off with a cheery whistle. Although both were on alert for the owner of those yellow eyes.

Just after midnight, Jett finally emerged from the forested creek and climbed gratefully back into his jeep. He helped Sally inside and got her a drink. Then settled back for a few moments rest.

Propping the camera on the dashboard, he smiled into the lens. “We’ve yet to examine our footage. But there was something out there. Bears don’t have those yellow eyes. While they might stand eight-feet-tall on their hind legs; I’m pretty sure I didn’t just see a bear. Hopefully, the footage will solve the mystery and reveal that we did indeed just find Bigfoot. One thing’s for sure, I just found a new friend in Sally the dog.” Jett aimed the camera at her sitting in the passenger seat. “Whatever cryptid I hunt next, I’ll not be adventuring alone, anymore.”

The End


Want more on Bigfoot check out my story The Secret in the Forest


Thanks for reading my friends, I really do appreciate it.

Don’t forget there’s always plenty more stories for you in the Short Stories and Short Stories 2 tabs.

Have a great day!

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