It was August, already warm by 8 a.m., when I rolled into Whitecourt for a quick coffee and a break. My Bigfoot hat was on, same one I always wear, and like it always does, it sparked a conversation.
Another trucker, grabbing his coffee and stretching his legs, grinned at me and asked the question I’ve heard more times than I can count.
“You a believer?”
That’s how it started. He didn’t say where his story took place. He just said that seeing my hat made him feel like finally telling someone what had happened to him years ago.
His Encounter
“I was out hunting elk with a buddy of mine. We split up so he could try to push something my way while I held on a ridge.
That’s when I saw it.
At first, I figured it was a black bear stepping out of the treeline, but the way it moved was wrong. Upright. Balanced. It wasn’t dropping to all fours.
I raised my rifle not to shoot, just to use the scope. It was a Remington 700 in .30-06, a classic elk rifle, and at fifty yards you don’t miss much. That’s close enough you can see every detail through the glass.
And I did.
I started at its feet and worked my way up. Thick legs. Heavy body. Arms that hung long like no man I’ve ever seen. When I brought the scope up to its head, I froze.
The face looked like an overgrown man, covered in thick hair, like a wild bushman or some kind of caveman. The beard and facial hair blended into the rest of its body nothing clean about it, just wild and full. The hair on its arms reminded me of those big apes with long red hair, orangutans, only this thing was darker and twice as massive.
Then it noticed me.
The second our eyes met, I knew it was looking straight at me. And then gone. Just like that. Vanished.
No crashing through brush. No sound. It didn’t run. It was just… gone.
When I met back up with my buddy later, I told him what happened. He just laughed. Said it must’ve been a bear. Told me there’s no such thing as Sasquatch out here.
But I know what I saw. I’ll take that to my grave.”
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Author & Creator of The Hidden Bloodlines of Bigfoot
Founder of Wildfoot Explores
The Blackout Moment
As he told me this, something happened. Right in the middle of his story, his eyes went blank.
He wasn’t standing there with me anymore. His body was leaning against that wall, but his mind was back on that ridge, rifle in hand, staring through the glass.
I had to almost snap him back. He shook his head, apologized, and said, “Hey, where was I at?”
That told me everything.
I’ve seen it before in trauma victims. Veterans with PTSD. Men who’ve had close calls in the bush. They start talking, and suddenly their body drags them back. Their eyes glaze over, their voice trails off, and for a second they aren’t telling you a memory they’re reliving it.
That’s what happened to this trucker.
And here’s what seals it: no matter how many times these people retell their encounter, the story never changes. The blackout always comes. That’s how you know it’s real.
👉 If you like digging into the way our minds reveal truth, I dive deeper in Exploring the Mind.
Looking for Patterns
That morning stuck with me. I wanted to see if there were other encounters like his close, undeniable, and gone in a blink.
So I went digging through the BFRO database. And sure enough, I found reports that lined up with his in chilling ways.
- Report #1188 (Maine, Hancock County): Two sisters saw a shaggy, upright figure standing in the middle of the road. They locked eyes with it as they drove closer, and in a blink, it vanished into the trees. No sound. No sign. Just gone.
- Report #24334 (North Carolina, Camp Lejeune): A squad of U.S. Marines on exercise thought they saw a bear crouched by their foxholes. Then it stood up seven feet tall, muscular, calm, and confident. It walked between their fighting positions, eyes locked on them, then turned at the waist and disappeared. Every Marine there saw it.
Different people. Different places. Different circumstances. But the pattern is the same. Clear sightings of something massive and upright that vanish in ways no known animal can.
Thin Places
That conversation over coffee convinced me of two things. First, that trucker was telling the truth. Second, these vanishings aren’t random.
There are places in the world where the lines are thinner where fact and legend collide, and things slip in and out of view. Maybe his ridge was one of them.
And once you see that pattern the blackout moments, the vanishings, the scars in the earth you can’t ignore it.
If this kind of mystery pulls at you like it does me, you can explore my full collection of books here:
Your Turn
👉 Have you ever had an experience that gave you that “blackout moment”?
👉 Or do you believe in “thin places,” where fact and legend collide?
Drop your thoughts in the comments. I’d love to hear them.
This article does an excellent job of capturing a firsthand account in a very personal and engaging way. You use “blackout moment” as a signifier of the truth and trauma of the experience is a powerful narrative tool. Connecting this single encounter to broader patterns in Bigfoot lore, particularly the “vanishing” phenomenon, adds a layer of depth and makes the story feel like part of a larger mystery. The inclusion of other BFRO reports that mirror the same experience strengthens your argument and provides compelling, external evidence. The writing style is immersive, making the reader feel like they are sitting at the coffee shop and listening to the trucker’s story themselves.
The article highlights the phenomenon of creatures “vanishing without a sound.” Do you think this is a result of some unknown ability of the creature, a psychological effect on the observer, or something else entirely? Could the “blackout moment” and the “vanishing” be linked?
Hey Sean,
Thanks for the kind words, I really appreciate it. That “blackout moment” is one of those things I’ve heard too many times to ignore, and you’re right it seems to line up with those vanishing encounters almost eerily well.
As for what’s going on, I go back and forth. Part of me leans toward it being something the creature can do an ability tied to how it interacts with the world around it. But I also can’t dismiss the possibility of it being a psychological or perceptual effect on the witness. Maybe both. When you dig into folklore and Indigenous legends, you find stories of beings who could blur, vanish, or “step between” places. Those old accounts sound an awful lot like what people are still reporting today.
So yes, I think the blackout and the vanishing could be linked two sides of the same coin, maybe. The witness blanks, the creature slips, and the moment is gone.
I’m curious, where do you land on it? Do you think it’s more about the creature itself, or the way humans process an encounter that breaks their sense of reality?
Shawn
This article makes for an interesting read. I do have a question.
Do you think the trucker’s ‘blackout moment’ was more likely a sign of trauma, or evidence that something truly unexplainable happened on that ridge?
If nothing else, this has really piqued my interest, and I will be following for updates.
Hey Michael,
Great question. I think the trucker’s blackout moment was both a sign of trauma and evidence something unexplainable happened. Trauma explains the shock in his body language, but the fact it lined up exactly with the creature vanishing makes me think it wasn’t just in his head. It felt like his mind and the moment itself shorted out at the same time.
That overlap is what makes these encounters so hard to ignore and why I keep digging into them.
Have you ever experienced something yourself that made you stop and wonder if there was more going on than what we can explain?
Shawn
Great read! The flow of your story and the clarity of the details kept me hooked from start to finish. I especially enjoyed how you described that “blackout moment” – it felt so vivid, like I was right there. I’ve never seen Bigfoot myself, but hearing stories from level-headed folks (like that trucker or even those Marines at Camp Lejeune you mentioned) really makes me think there’s something out there.
The Marine squad, any military member to be honest, would have no reason to lie about it as they risk being being thought of as a lunatic or worse-being kicked out.
I’m curious, what inspired you to write about this topic in the first place? Was it that coffee conversation with the trucker that sparked it, or have you always been interested in these “thin place” encounters? It’d be cool to know what got you diving into Bigfoot blackout moments and these mysterious vanishing sightings.
Do you ever talk to skeptics or compare these stories with local folklore in different regions? I might check out some of your books. Always eager to read more of this kind of fascinating stuff!
Jason
Hey Jason,
Really appreciate you taking the time to leave such a thoughtful comment. That blackout moment stuck with me too it’s the kind of detail you can’t fake, and once you’ve seen it in a witness, it changes how you listen to every story after.
What inspired me? Honestly, it’s been a mix. Encounters like that coffee chat with the trucker always nudge me deeper, but I’ve had an interest in Bigfoot and other “thin place” encounters for years. Those stories feel like they pull back the veil for just a second, and I’ve never been able to shake the question of why some people experience them and others don’t.
And yes, I do talk with skeptics. I think they’re important to the conversation even if they don’t believe, the back-and-forth sharpens the details. I also compare a lot of these encounters with Indigenous legends and local folklore, because patterns pop up that way you’d never notice otherwise.
If you do check out the books, you’ll see I dig into that same theme ordinary people stumbling into extraordinary moments.
Curious have you ever come across a story that made you stop and go, “Okay, maybe there’s something here after all”?
Shawn
Wow, what an incredible story! I love how you captured not just the encounter itself, but the “blackout moment” when the memory takes over someone’s mind—it really adds a layer of realism to these experiences. The pattern of vanishings and eye contact across different reports is fascinating and definitely makes you wonder about what’s out there.
Do you think there’s a particular type of terrain or “thin place” that attracts these encounters more than others, or is it just random chance?
Wow, Jenny, I love the way you put that! The “blackout moment” really does add that layer of realism, like the mind trying to catch up to what just happened. And I agree those vanishings paired with eye contact are hard to ignore. From what I’ve seen, valleys, river crossings, and old hunting grounds pop up a lot, almost like they’re natural thin places.
Do you think it’s the land itself drawing them in, or more about us being open in those wild spots?
Shawn
All I can say is WOW! You have a beautiful, well put together website. Who would know there is so much to learn about our long time furry friend, Big Foot? If there is a Big Foot in real life, your website certainly gives us enough information to find it. I think I will hop out into my nearby forest tomorrow and take a look around. Maybe, just maybe, I can find some foot prints and I will take a picture and send it to you.
Thank you all this amazing Big Foot information.
Mike Powers
Mike, really appreciate that ???? Means a lot hearing it. Bigfoot has a way of pulling us deeper the more we look, and that’s what I try to capture on the site stories, signs, and those little blackout moments that make you stop and wonder.
If you do head out to the forest, keep your eyes open for the small details: the silence falling out of nowhere, a strange track where it shouldn’t be, or even that gut feeling you’re not alone. Those are the things witnesses talk about most.
And if you find something, footprints or otherwise, I’d be more than happy to see it. Thanks again for the kind words, and good luck on your search ????????
Shawn
Reading this gave me chills. The way the trucker’s eyes went blank made me think of how trauma locks moments into people’s minds. That kind of reaction is hard to fake. The fact you’ve seen that pattern in other stories really makes me wonder. I’ve never seen Bigfoot, but I believe people truly experience something out there. Do you think the land itself holds some kind of pull in these encounters?
Srael, I got chills just reading your comment. You nailed it the blank look in someone’s eyes is like watching a memory grab hold of them in real time. You can’t fake that, and once you’ve seen it, you know.
I’ve wondered the same thing about the land. Some places feel charged, like they’re holding stories older than we are. Maybe that’s why encounters keep happening there it’s not just the creature, but the ground itself remembering.
Appreciate your take on this, it’s exactly the kind of perspective that makes these conversations real. What spot in the world has given you that “something’s here” feeling, even if you couldn’t explain it? ????????
Shawn
What a powerful story—thank you for sharing it. I was struck by how a simple detail—like a Bigfoot hat and a coffee break—unlocked such a raw and unforgettable memory for that trucker. His description was vivid and haunting, and the moment his eyes glazed over during the story resonated deeply—that’s a sign of something seared into memory, not just retold.
The fact that others across different locations have shared eerily similar vanishings—giant, upright figures that lock eyes and vanish without a sound—makes me think there’s something profound beneath these encounters. Your idea of “thin places” where reality and folklore touch felt especially meaningful here.
I’m left wondering: have you found any regions or landscapes where these types of blackout encounters happen more often than others? Is there a geography or setting that seems to encourage this crossing between what we know and something beyond?
Always appreciate your thoughts, Leahrae. Well, a bit of that is me too why the trucker even started talking. I’ve had plenty of people strike up conversations just off the gear I’m wearing. Some of those talks are good, some not so much, but they all serve a purpose in the end. That day it was just a Bigfoot hat and a coffee break, and it unlocked something raw in him. Funny how small details can carry so much weight.
And you’re right about those “thin places.” I’ve noticed the same certain landscapes seem to hold that strange pull where stories like this surface more often. It makes you wonder if the land itself remembers, and if that memory is what people step into when these encounters happen.
Wow, you’ve got amazing storytelling skills. It felt like I was reading a best-selling novel and I didn’t even realize it was a true story. I’m so curious what happened next. Did your friend remember how he got back? Like did he remember the trip back to his vehicle? It is very mysterious and would definitely love to see how these other stories piece together.
Thanks so much, Nique that means a lot. The wild part is he doesn’t remember the walk back in any clear way. He remembers turning to head toward his rig, then it’s like the tape skips. Next thing he’s “back,” standing by his truck feeling lightheaded, coffee gone cold, and the woods dead quiet. No struggle, no sounds, just a blank slice of time.
That “blackout gap” keeps popping up in other stories I’m collecting too. I’m pulling them together to see where the patterns line up and I’ll share the next piece soon. If you’ve ever heard a similar detail in someone else’s experience, I’d love to hear it.
Shawn
That was an incredible read—what really struck me wasn’t just the encounter itself, but the “blackout moment” you described. I’ve seen that same look in people when they’re pulled back into something they can’t fully put into words, and it always carries weight. Whether someone believes in Bigfoot or not, the consistency of these stories and the raw emotion that surfaces when they’re told makes it hard to simply dismiss. I also found your point about “thin places” compelling. Across cultures, there have always been beliefs about spots where the veil is thinner, where the ordinary rules bend just enough to let something extraordinary slip through. Maybe that ridge in Whitecourt was one of those places. Thanks for sharing this and sparking such a thought-provoking reflection.
Andrejs, thank you, man. You nailed it. That blackout look is real, I have seen it in tough bush workers and old timers who do not spook easy, and when it hits, words fall short but the weight stays in the eyes. The thin places idea is exactly how that ridge in Whitecourt felt, quiet but charged, like the air itself was listening, like ordinary rules loosened just enough for something to step through. Whether folks believe or not, the consistency in those moments, the tone, the emotion, the pause before they speak, it keeps me from dismissing any of it. Appreciate you reading and taking it seriously. If you have a spot that ever felt thin to you, I would love to hear about it.
Shawn
I love this website and this post. There has always been this story of Bigfoot since I was a child. I have heard these supposed sightings. I will tell you I knew a man I truly believe he had an encounter with Bigfoot…or something. He had a favorite hunting spot he would always go to and he usually would get a deer out of that area by the end of the season. One day we met up after the hunt and he was actually shaking and wanted to go home. So on the ride home my dad asked him what was wrong and he told my dad you wont believe me but I saw Bigfoot and I am never going hunting there again. My dad sorta joked with him and his friend said see I told ya wouldn’t believe me.
They didn’t talk much more about it because the man just sat quietly until we dropped him off at home. He would not go with us back over there to hunt any more.
I loved the article and your site and I will tell you I believe there is something out there as there are too many sightings of these things.
Neal, I’m glad you enjoy the website, it’s there for you to explore. I built it so stories like yours and others could have a place to land, and so we can all dig into the questions together. The way you described that hunter’s reaction hit me hard, when a man won’t go back to a place he loved, that silence says more than words ever could. Appreciate you taking the time to share that memory, it adds real weight to what so many of us are trying to piece together.
This gave me chills. I’ve heard a lot of Bigfoot stories over the years, but the way you described that “blackout moment” really stuck with me. I’ve seen that same thousand-yard stare in veterans telling war stories, and you’re right—it’s not something you can fake.
The part that really makes me question things is how often people mention the silence. No crashing, no running, just gone. I can’t wrap my head around how something that big could move without a sound. Makes me wonder if there really are “thin places” like you said, spots where reality overlaps with something else.
Do you think those reports lining up from totally different states prove it’s the same type of creature? Or could it be that people are just hardwired to explain the unexplainable in similar ways? Either way, I can’t stop thinking about that trucker and his story.
Jannette, I’m glad this one resonated with you. That “blackout moment” carries the same weight I’ve seen in veterans too like a piece of them is still standing in that moment no matter how much time has passed. And you’re right, the silence is the part that unsettles me most. A creature that size should break branches, stir brush, crash off somewhere, but instead it’s just… gone. That lines up with what I’ve been hearing for years.
As for your question, I think it could be both. The consistency of reports from totally different states makes me believe we’re dealing with the same type of being or at least something connected. But at the same time, we as people are wired to try and explain the unexplainable, so the language we use overlaps even when the encounters happen miles apart. That mix is what makes it so fascinating and frustrating because it leaves just enough doubt to keep us chasing answers.
And trust me, that trucker’s story has stayed with me too. Some moments don’t fade, they just hang there, reminding you the world is stranger than we think.
The Bigfoot stories are a lot like the UFO stories. Different people see the same thing, and half the population believe them and the other half don’t. It can also be compared to near death experiences. Although so many people go through the same experience, there are still those that are skeptical.
I love your analogy – ‘There are places in the world where the lines are thinner where fact and legend collide, and things slip in and out of view.’ I think that this sentence sums it all up perfectly for me.
Michel, I couldn’t agree more. Bigfoot, UFOs, near-death experiences they all share that same divide where some believe without question and others write it off. But the consistency in what people describe is what makes me stop and listen. When different lives, cultures, and backgrounds all circle back to the same kind of moment, it’s hard to ignore.
I’m glad that line hit home for you. I’ve always felt there are places where the lines blur, where fact and legend overlap just enough for something to slip through. Those are the spots that keep me chasing stories.
Hi @Shawn, this was wild (as my son would say) —in the best way. I came for the coffee and Bigfoot hat, stayed for the blackout moment and that eerie eye contact. The way you described it felt like a yarn spun over a campfire in the middle of nowhere – with just enough realism to make the listener really wonder.
I’ve always been curious about these threshold moments in crisis time (I spent some tine as a soldier) —where something shifts and you’re not quite sure if it is real, imagined, or somewhere in between. That vanishing act? Almost theatric – gave me chills.
I found some people are more “tuned” to sense encounters – much like some people are better able to ‘sense’ being watched. I think this kept our ancestors alive (well the better ones). Like they carry a frequency that can detect the unusual and the strange.
MarkA
Mark, I really appreciate this comment. You nailed it with the idea of “threshold moments.” That blackout stare and vanishing act felt exactly like one of those crisis-time shifts you mentioned where reality bends and you’re not sure if you’re watching, imagining, or standing in two worlds at once.
I think you’re right about some people being more tuned in. Almost like a survival trait passed down, the way you said our ancestors relied on it to sense danger. Maybe those of us who catch glimpses of the strange are just tapping into something ancient that’s still wired in.
That campfire comparison made me smile too, because that’s exactly how I wanted it to feel when I wrote it a story told in the dark, where every word pulls you closer to the fire and further into the mystery.
Thanks again for sharing your soldier’s insight. That frequency you mentioned? I believe it’s real. Some people just hear it louder than others.
Shawn
This was a fascinating read—the way you captured the trucker’s “blackout moment” really stuck with me. It added such depth to his story and made it feel less like a tale being told and more like an experience being relived. I especially liked how you tied it into similar accounts from other regions, which makes the idea of “patterns” even harder to dismiss.
Personally, I think what makes these stories so compelling is that the details—the silence, the vanishings, the eye contact—don’t feel exaggerated, they feel consistent.
Do you think that people who experience these encounters are more predisposed to notice them because of their environment or mindset, or do you think these “thin place” events could happen to anyone, anywhere?
Lesley, thank you for such a thoughtful comment. I’m glad the blackout moment resonated with you it really did feel like more than just a story, almost like I was being pulled back into that exact space while writing it.
I agree with you about the patterns. The silence, the eye contact, the vanishings they don’t feel like tall tales when you hear them repeated in different places by people who’ve never met. That consistency is what gives me chills.
As for your question, I think it might be a bit of both. Environment and mindset can definitely heighten awareness like truckers, hunters, or soldiers who spend long stretches tuned into every little detail around them. But I also think there are “thin places,” moments where the veil between worlds wears down, and anyone could stumble across them if they’re in the right (or wrong) spot at the right time.
That’s what makes it so compelling to me. It’s part conditioning, part chance, and maybe part destiny.
What do you think is it mostly awareness and tuning, or do you lean toward the idea that some places really are thinner than others?
Shawn
Interesting subject. Kiving in Washington state we know all about sasquatch.
I’m not sure if I had an encounter, but it was something me or my 3 friends had ever heard or smelled before. We were at a friend’s dads’ cabin deep in the woods near Big Lake Alaska in 1975. It was dark out and we had the campfire going when something … screamed is the only word to describe it. It was weird, but it was a ways off so we didn’t worry about it. Until about 5 minutes later, thats when the smell started up and then another scream, a lot closer this time. We packed it up and shuttered up the cabin. We never heard anything the rest of the night.
Good story!
Ken, wow that’s a chilling memory. Washington and Alaska are both hotspots, and the way you described that scream followed by the smell is exactly the kind of detail that comes up again and again in encounters. First the sound, then that stench rolling in like a warning.
I don’t blame you one bit for shuttering up the cabin. When something out there makes a noise you can’t place and you’ve got the woods closing in around you every instinct says “get safe.” That’s survival kicking in.
What sticks with me is how you said none of you had ever heard or smelled anything like it before. That’s the part that makes these stories so hard to dismiss. Different people, different places, same pieces lining up.
Appreciate you sharing that, Ken. That scream in the dark? It has a way of staying with you long after the fire dies down.
Shawn
Hi Shawn,
Finishing your article really gave me chills.
Your narrative is so compelling – I felt like I was there in Whitecourt, coffee in hand, listening to the truck driver’s voice tremble as he described his eyes staring into each other with something inexplicable.
The detail of how he froze in the middle of the story, his eyes glazed over as he relived the trauma?
That hit me hard.
It’s such a raw, human detail that it immediately made his narrative seem authentic.
What really stuck with me was your analysis of the disappearances – no sound, no movement, they just disappeared. The combination of his story with those BFRO reports (especially the encounter with the Marines!) was brilliant. It made me wonder: How many people carry these experiences silently? And your idea of the “thin places” where reality blurs? Absolutely fascinating. As someone who has walked remote trails, I’ve felt this eerie calm where the forests seem… unwatchful. Now I’ll pay even more attention.
Questions that have been on my mind:
Do you think these disappearances are associated with specific terrains (like ridges or river valleys)?
Have you ever seen a witness describe sounds or smells during their “blackout” moments?
Thank you for turning a roadside conversation into something profound. Your respect for these stories – and the people behind them – shines through.
Best regards,
Mitιa
Mitia, I really appreciate this comment you captured exactly what struck me when I first heard that trucker’s story. The way his voice caught, his eyes glazed over, and he froze mid-sentence those little human details are what make it impossible to write off. It felt less like storytelling and more like he was reliving it right in front of me.
I think you’re spot on about the disappearances. When they happen without sound or movement, it feels almost unnatural like reality itself stutters. That’s why tying it with other reports felt important. Those patterns start to show up, whether it’s truckers, hunters, or Marines out in the wild.
To your questions: yes, certain terrains seem to come up again and again. Ridges, valleys, heavy river corridors, and even old logging cuts places where sound carries strangely and where people often feel like they’re being funneled into something unseen. It’s hard not to wonder if those landscapes create the perfect conditions for these thin places.
As for blackout moments, I have seen a few witnesses describe odd smells or subtle sounds right before or during. The smell is usually the most consistent that heavy, musky stench that rolls in almost as a warning. Sometimes it’s described like wet dog, other times like rotting vegetation. Sounds tend to vanish which is maybe the most unsettling thing of all, that sudden silence pressing down.
I really like how you put it, about walking remote trails and feeling that eerie calm. That’s the awareness I think pulls people closer to these edges. Pay attention out there sometimes the forest gives off more than just wind through the trees.
Thanks again for such a thoughtful response, Mitia.
Shawn
Man, that story is well written and interesting too. Made me think of a question when you described locking eyes and then it all just vanishing! Do you think that’s something unique to Bigfoot encounters, or is it more about the way our minds and memories react in high stress moments? Like, do you think these ‘blackout moments’ point to something supernatural or even demonic happening right there on the ridge, or could it be the brain trying to process something it can’t fully make sense of? I love these kind of articles. They keep me interested.
Thank You,
Jason
Jason, I really appreciate that. You asked one of the big questions that sticks with me too. When you hit those blackout moments the locked eyes, the sudden vanishings it does make you wonder if it’s strictly a brain under stress or if something deeper is at play.
I’ve thought a lot about this. On one hand, our minds do have a way of protecting us when we hit overload. Soldiers, truckers, even accident survivors have described memory gaps or that “thousand-yard stare.” But at the same time, the consistency of these reports people in completely different places, describing the same silence, the same sudden vanishing, the same paralysis makes me wonder if we’re brushing against something more than biology.
Supernatural? Maybe. Demonic? That’s crossed my mind too. Some of these encounters feel less like an animal and more like something that shouldn’t be there, something outside our rules of nature.
So I think it could be both the brain trying to process what doesn’t fit, and maybe a doorway moment where something otherworldly pushes through. That’s why I keep writing these the more stories we compare, the clearer those patterns get.
Glad you’re enjoying these kinds of articles, Jason. Your question just added another layer to it.
Shawn
Great story, Shawn! Your storytelling in “A Coffee, A Bigfoot Hat, And The Truth About A Blackout Moment” is both captivating and thought-provoking. The way you intertwine personal experience with the larger mystery of Bigfoot adds depth to the narrative. It’s fascinating how a simple object “a Bigfoot hat” can trigger such profound reflections.
I’m curious, though how do you reconcile the personal, often subjective nature of these experiences with the objective evidence typically sought in Bigfoot research? Do you think personal encounters can offer insights that scientific methods might overlook?
Charzaria, thank you so much for this comment. I like how you picked up on the hat it really was such a simple trigger, but it cracked open a memory that carried way more weight than I expected. Sometimes the smallest details carry the deepest stories.
Your question is a great one. I think personal encounters and scientific methods are like two sides of the same coin. Science looks for repeatable, measurable patterns tracks, DNA, hair samples, clear video. But personal encounters carry the raw, human detail that science often can’t capture. Things like the blackout stare, the silence, the smell those moments are subjective, but they’re also consistent across so many independent witnesses. That consistency itself feels like data to me.
So while science may dismiss them as “just stories,” I think they offer insights science might miss the emotional weight, the psychological shift, the instinctive fear. Those aren’t just fluff, they’re part of the phenomenon. Maybe when we bring both sides together the measurable and the lived we get closer to the truth.
What do you think? Do you lean more toward the hard evidence side, or do you see value in the personal stories too?
Shawn
This is a very interesting topic. I’ve heard about Bigfoot but never witnessed one. Your story tells of the trucker who had a blackout moment so I’m wondering if there was a moment or something charged between them that caused the witness to have a blackout where it has become “erased” from their memory. I have not experienced PTSD and I am curious if some form of trauma or PTSD outside of the actual event would caused the witness to relive the trauma again in a different environment. I’m in medical so I am assuming this might have happened but there are unknown forces surrounding us that we can’t explain it to others but certain people are exposed to it and don’t know how to handle the situation or deal with it. This is just an interesting phenomenon and a story to share. Thanks for sharing
Hi Cydney,
Right on, I really appreciate your thoughtful comment. You touched on something a lot of people in this field wrestle with the connection between memory, trauma, and those moments that seem to get “erased.” From my side of the research and stories I’ve heard, it does seem like there’s a charged energy in some encounters, almost like the body and mind don’t know how to process what’s happening in real time. That could line up with what you mentioned about PTSD triggers, where the brain shields itself and later those gaps show up like a blackout.
Now, whether that comes from pure trauma or from something else some unknown force around us is a bigger mystery. I’ve talked to people who never had PTSD before but still walked away with missing time, memory gaps, or this heavy, unexplainable weight after an encounter. It’s almost as if certain people are more “open” or sensitive to whatever’s out there, while others might pass through the same space and never feel a thing.
Like you said, these are forces we can’t fully explain yet, and most of it gets pushed aside because science doesn’t have a neat category for it. That’s why stories matter so much they’re how we connect the dots when the data doesn’t tell the whole picture.
Thanks again for jumping in and sharing your perspective. It’s exactly these kinds of questions and insights that keep the conversation alive.
Shawn
This was such a gripping read — the way you described that trucker’s “blackout moment” really hit me. It’s fascinating how the body can relive an encounter so vividly, almost like trauma replay, and that detail made the story feel incredibly real.
I also appreciate that you went beyond just the one story and looked for patterns in the BFRO reports — it makes the whole piece even more compelling.
You mentioned your piece Exploring the Mind and also your Wildfoot Book Library. Do you think understanding these “blackout” states tells us more about the mind’s response to mystery, or about the mystery itself?
Hey Kris
thanks so much for that awesome comment. I really appreciate you taking the time to dig into the heart of what I was trying to share.
That “blackout moment” stuck with me too not just because of how intense it was, but because it felt almost too real to be ignored. You nailed it with “trauma replay” I think the body remembers these encounters in a way that logic can’t always catch up with.
And your question is a powerful one.
I believe those blackout states reveal both. On one hand, it shows us how the mind protects itself when it’s shoved into something it can’t explain a kind of survival override. But on the other hand, these blackouts are a clue. They pop up too often in encounter reports in the same regions, under the same stress, and with the same aftermath. That tells me it’s not just psychological… it might be part of the phenomenon itself.
That’s what keeps me digging.
Glad you brought up “Exploring the Mind” that’s where I’m really diving into this overlap between consciousness and mystery. And yeah, the Wildfoot Book Library is packed with stories like this that make you question what we really know.
Appreciate your insights, Kris you’re asking the kind of questions that open doors.