by Paul Sating
To his credit, Andrew didn't seem thrown off. "Seven years. Started working for the service right after college. Been here ever since."
"It's got to be a great job."
"It's alright," Andrew shrugged. "I mean, the mountain is great, it's beautiful. It's just ..."
"Not what you expected?" Jared finished for him.
Andrew sipped his coffee for longer than a sip should take. “I think I sort of rushed myself into a career decision and figured I could make a bigger impact than I actually am." There was a hint of pain buried in those words.
"I've been hunting Sasquatch for twenty years. I can tell you that park services, rangers, forestry ... all of you, have made a very positive impact on the collective psyche about our natural resources. I don't want to think about where we'd be if it wasn't for people like you doing what you do."
"Thanks," Andrew smiled. "I think I had illusions of grandeur when I decided to follow this path. I don't know what I was thinking, but it is what it is. I can't change that now. But, if I'm able to help others, that's cool. I've made peace with the fact that I'm not going to change the world."
The ambitions of the young, always so boundless. The immensity of promise that people under thirty saw in their world was a beautiful thing. But it was beaten out after a few years in the job market, struggling along to make sure the mortgage was paid on-time every month. Andrew was the type of person he could be around more often; Andrew was good for him. All this investigating, losing almost everything for something he may never achieve, sometimes felt pointless even as the tug of necessity pulled on him.
"Don't lose that dream yet. You’re young. Plenty of time to shake the world awake.” A thought came to him. “Is that why you're reaching out to me now with these reports even though you don't believe Sasquatch exists?"
"If this thing exists, if these people are telling the truth ... I don't want to stand in the way of that. If something like Sasquatch is out there somewhere, it's my duty to facilitate their study. I did a lot of reading up on you. You're all over the internet and well-respected ... at least by anyone who isn't a scientist."
Jared paused. Could he believe Andrew? The man had called him all the way out to the park for a reason, the stack of papers and Andrew's hushed, conspiratorially-evasive tone told Jared that much. There may or may not be something happening on Mount Rainier but as far as this one park ranger was concerned something was happening and it was being hidden by someone, and he'd decided to do something about it. That was enough for Jared to keep looking, to keep pushing. "Yeah, well, I gave up caring about what they thought a long time ago."
"It's got to be hard ... doing what you do."
"Depends on how you define it," Jared said. "I enjoy it; it's a passion. It drives me, regardless of what doubters and naysayers think. And I appreciate people like you, who put aside personal feelings about Sasquatch in order to help."
"Mind if I ask why you do this? I don't imagine it pays very well."
"Money is the last of my considerations. Trust me. My reasons are silly, to be honest. But ... it is what it is. Childhood trauma has a way of doing that, of taking something that is pretty trivial and marking you in a way that drives you for the rest of your life."
"I get it," Andrew replied. "I mean I didn't dream of being a park ranger when I was a kid. I wanted to be an astronaut. But I can understand what you're saying. I have friends who went through some really messed up stuff when we were kids and it definitely made them the adults they are today. Mind if I ask what happened?" Andrew seemed to catch himself and rushed to fill the silence, "I'm sorry, that's inconsiderate. My supervisor keeps telling me I've got to be less direct with people. My mother used to always say that too, but I thought she was just nitpicking, you know, like mother's can. I don't mean to be rude, I'm sorry."
How many times had well-meaning people asked that question? Enough times to have a well-practiced answer to keep them far enough away without picking up subtle hints that there was more going on. "No, no. You're fine. I don't mind. But you've got to promise you won't laugh."
"Scouts honor," Andrew said, putting his right hand in the air, thumb to pinky finger with the other three fingers extending straight upward.
"I didn't think park rangers were considered—"
"Boy, I thought I had a bad sense of humor," Andrew laughed.
"Oh," Jared caught on, surprised that Andrew felt compelled to joke. He didn’t think the ranger had it in him. "Mind if I get a refill? This isn't bad coffee."
"You mean for park rangers?" Andrew winked, getting up and accommodating his guest.
"What makes me do this?" Jared repeated the question. “I'll give you the short version. My family was a camping family. Outdoorsy types. We'd camp all summer long, every other weekend, at least. My father loved getting away from Seattle and back into nature. We used to go to a campsite near Lake Cushman. It was my father's favorite place and it sort of became our home away from home because we went there so often. Are you familiar with it?
"I'm a Cascadia man myself," Andrew gestured beyond the confines of his office to the mountain outside of it. "Can't say I've ever been out to the Olympics."
"Ha, well, at Cushman most of the sites are private, with heavy coverage and undergrowth so you really felt like you’re away from the world. Out in the wild," Jared said. "My mother never got used to that isolation. She and dad got into some very interesting discussions, as they would call them, about going out there. But she always went, complaining the whole way only to talk about how much she enjoyed her weekend on the way back to the city. There was one weekend where the forecast wasn't looking promising but Dad said he needed to get away, needed to unplug. So we went and the campground was nearly empty. Funny thing about Americans, isn't it? Even when we want to rough it we need to perfect conditions to do so."
Andrew's booming laugh filled the small office. "That's so true."
"Yeah, I guess you would know that," Jared said. "So, we were enjoying the site, enjoying the peace that comes with a vacant camp and unwinding. We woke up Saturday morning and headed down to the lake to do some kayaking and swimming and when we came back to the campsite hours later it was destroyed."
"Destroyed?"
Here it comes. Are you ready to go through this again? Jared already knew the answer. "It looked like a group of drunk teens came through and tore everything up. Our coolers were thrown across the site. The fire pit looked like something had run through it, tossing ash everywhere. One of our tents had been yanked from the ground and was shredded. We salvaged as much of the food as we could and set camp back up again. My father was irate. Mom asked him if we could leave but it was getting late. He’d been up late the night before, enjoying the evening and didn't think we could make it back safely. Dad was sure that it was stupid kids. Mom wasn't too happy about that.
"It was a long night," Jared continued. "We were quiet all evening as we ate and tried to distract ourselves with card games. My dog, a six-year-old Collie, was being ridiculous. His name was Sam and he wouldn't lie down. Just kept pacing. It annoyed the hell out of me. We tried to settle in by watching the fire for hours. As a young kid, I don't remember everything but I do remember just wanting to go to bed and get the night over. So I did, but not before my mother asked to keep the fire hot. They argued a bit because he didn't want to be up late and she didn't want to be without the fire and the safety it provided. It was obvious she was scared. I didn't understand why but I could feel it from her. She was usually so ... steady."
Jared tried to hide the dark feelings starting to rise as he recalled the story. Even now, all these years later, he hated this part of it. "I don't know how long I'd been sleeping when Sam started whining. He always slept with me. It was a three-person tent but with all my gear, clothes, and Sam inside it was pretty tight fit. His fidgeting bugged the hell out of me. I remember telling him to lie down but he kept standing up and whimpering. He was looking towards the tent flap and pacing in any sliver o
f space he could find. It was late and suddenly Sam started losing his mind, whimpering like I was beating him. Then he laid down, his head between his paws, and got real quiet."
The small office felt like it'd gotten fifteen degrees colder in an instant. "That’s when I got scared. You sense things, you know? I had this sudden fear. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to turn my flashlight on. I was frozen, not daring to make a sound. To this day I don't know why I felt like that ... I just did. I laid there and didn't move a muscle except to reach for Sam. I thought I was trying to comfort him but now I know I was trying to comfort me. That's when I heard the growl."
Jared paused to sip his coffee. It wasn't deliberately evasive or for dramatic effect. The memories, hard and confusing, were always blurry at this part of the story. He could see it so clearly yet it was obscured by ... what? Pain? Fear? Loss? Jared had asked himself that question a thousand times if he'd asked it once, never finding the answer. "There was something outside my tent. I could hear it moving, grunting, and tossing our stuff around. My parents unzipped their tent. A flashlight came on and my father started yelling. Years later he told me he was trying to scare the camp invader."
Andrew, for his part, appeared fascinated, not moving, not touching his coffee or even rocking in his chair. He propped up on his elbows, leaning toward Jared. "Did it work?"
"Not at all," Jared shook his head. "The camp exploded into chaos. Whatever was out there ... howled. It was ungodly. That howl. I'll never forget that sound.
"There was so much commotion outside. I couldn't get my tent unzipped quickly enough. The zipper kept getting stuck because I was shaking. My mother ... was screaming. I finally got out and Sam bolted. I reached for him ... but ... well, once he had his mind set on something, that was it. I scrambled after him, not thinking about anything else, but my mother grabbed me before I ran more than a few feet. She was hysterical and I was little ... I wasn't going to break free, she made sure of that. Even as dark as it was I could make out enough of what was going on because my father had his flashlight and a lantern in the dirt that lit up enough of the site ... enough to see it. You never forget the first time you see a Sasquatch."
The word, already mentioned, hung in the air. "You saw one?" Andrew drew out the question as if it would help him not trip over his own words.
Jared's response was dry, the words serving as bitter remnants of a life lost. "Everyone's a skeptic until they see Sasquatch. From that day on, we all believe." His cost had been very real, very traumatic, especially at that age, and he couldn't help but be slightly defensive after all the times he'd told this story only to have people blow it off as folly. "My father was waving his arms wildly; using his tactical flashlight like it was a damn lightsaber. The Sasquatch was on the edge of the site, near where we'd left our cooler. I remember it looking ... bewildered. It must have been trying to figure out what the hell my father was. That's when I noticed Sam. He may have been frightened initially, but he was a completely different dog at that moment. His hackles were raised as he stood between my father and the Sasquatch, crouched down on his front paws, ready to pounce."
Jared smiled at the memory of his Sam’s veraciously protective nature. "The Sasquatch was growling but so was Sam. That damn dog wouldn't back down. It didn't matter that the Sasquatch was ten times his size; Sam was not letting that thing harm us. I remember hearing other campers coming complaining about ‘stupid college kids’, but when a few of the men stomped into our site, ready to give us a piece of their mind, they saw that thing and immediately ... I'd never seen grown men collectively cower. Sam was barking, snarling, maybe feeling emboldened by the presence of a small army of humans. And whether it was Sam's increased aggression or the presence of all these people, I don't know, but the Sasquatch suddenly turned and leaped into the trees ... and that's when Sam went after him. That little bastard had so much fight in him."
Andrew groaned.
"My mother wouldn't let go of me no matter how much I struggled," Jared recalled. "I fought, I cried, but she wouldn't let me go. She knew what my young mind was thinking. My father knelt in front of me and assured me Sam would be back any minute. I could hear his barking becoming more distant as he chased that thing through the forest. And I kept waiting for him to turn around. He didn't, though. Just before his barking completely faded I heard him yelp ... and then ... nothing."
A large sigh welled in his chest. There was so, so much more to this story, so much he couldn't ever see himself sharing. "I was an adult before my father told me the truth about what happened. He said it looked like something had torn Sam in half and discarded him on the forest floor. And that's what set me on this course, believe it or not. I told you it was stupid."
"No, no," Andrew blinked, an unreadable expression on his face. He bit his lip, looking every part of someone bothered by his own thoughts. "I get it. You were young. And, dogs are pretty cool. I'm biased, not much of a cat person because they make for lousy company, but I love dogs. I can understand where you're coming from. Hey, this may be good news for you then, but those reports? They're not all I have for you."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Andrew pushed back from the desk and stood, grabbing something off the table behind him and laying it on the desk in front of Jared. It was a map of the mountain. "If you'd like I can take you to the site."
"Where these people saw the Sasquatch?"
Andrew shook his head. "No, where I did."
5
Everything changed after that first sighting. His family. Him. Some memories get burned into the mind forever. Unforgotten. Unforgettable. First-hand experience made it easy to understand why people changed after their first encounter with Sasquatch; it was all so consistent and obvious. Andrew had changed too, right in front of Jared's eyes. The park ranger was guarded, but that much could be expected due to his profession. Andrew's position in life meant he had to protect his career options. The smart and practical choice and a reason he respected Andrew even more. Andrew could have buried the reports, he could have never taken the time to look Jared up, and he definitely never had to call him.
Yet he had.
And now they were on their way up the mountain so Andrew could show him the location of a Bigfoot sighting.
As they rode in the small utility vehicle, Jared thought about what all this meant; first Andrew, then his own retelling of a restructured story, and finally a sighting on a mountain where there hadn't been a report in ages. Until there were almost one hundred of them! Well, if they're legit. Still, even if a quarter of them aren't some damn bear sighting ...
He thought about Maria.
After she left, he kicked the investigation into high gear because he wanted it done and over with. He wanted to find this damn beast before it tore apart the last shreds of his life. Finding Bigfoot would do so much more than validate him.
So much more.
But it also meant he had grown ever-more protective of his time. Anything that took him off-course, away from that aim of finding evidence of this creature as quickly as he could, he met with harsh resistance. So getting a call and spending an entire day on this mountain when he had sightings in the Olympics he needed to check out was a weird position to be in. Usually, he would have been fine ignoring or even denying a request to meet out here, but from the first seconds of their conversation, there was something different about Andrew's request, something that only solidified as the two shared their experiences. Jared didn't understand why at first, he simply felt it. Sometimes that’s all an investigator had. He'd been right to trust his gut.
He hoped, though, that Andrew didn't pick up on his dishonesty in retelling his childhood story. There was little reason to worry about it; they weren't likely to talk after today because having ties with a Bigfoot hunter wasn't something park rangers were known to do and, if he was being honest, Jared would advise Andrew against it anyway. The park ranger wouldn’t need the connection to Jared. It would be best; distance would protect Andrew's c
areer and it would keep his secrets blanketed, away from a critical eye or exploration.
Jared wasn't sure if the park ranger bought his story about Sam though. He needed Andrew to trust him if he was to get the unadulterated story about what happened here. He'd recited it enough time over the years, at public gatherings, in Bigfoot enthusiast groups, and even to curious strangers, that it was easy to construct it to sound believable. At least he hoped he had. But some people were very perceptive. Some people inquired, some people pried, and others quietly listened and watched him as he explained his motivations. Those were the ones to watch out for, the quiet ones. But it was a risk he had to take; it was difficult enough to get people to open up about their experiences with Sasquatch so, quite often, he had to open up to get them to. It was part of the game. With Andrew, like thousands of witnesses before him, Jared opened up first. It was a deliberate tactic.
Maybe that was why Andrew shared as much as he did? If he saw through Jared's veneer he was kind enough not to say anything.
For now, at least.
"I appreciate you taking me to see this site," Jared said over the rumble of the truck. "I know you probably have a ton of other things you need to get done."
"Nah. I blocked my entire day for this visit," Andrew said, business-like once more.
Jared didn't think it was possible to get away with abusing the clock to that degree and said as much, "Oh yeah, how'd you get away with that?"