Monday Memories of the Pacific Northwest

3 days ago

I shook the man's hand when some friends introduced us at a reading in the local bookshop, which was also the hangout for all manner of thinking misfits.

"He's a Sasquatch hunter," added the bookshop owner with a smile. Her eyes glittered mischievously as she waited to see my reaction. I was not known for my stiff upper lip in those days.

I was honestly taken aback by this piece of information and chuckled thinking it was a joke, but then I saw they were not joking.

Uh-oh.

A torrent of emotions coursed through me when I realized they were being serious. What was I supposed to say to that? Then I remembered where I was: a small town crisscrossed by interdimensional tectonic lines full of power, according to local knowledge, where some folk believed in fairies and magic.

I tried to suppress my incredulity and tried to attain a more scholarly demeanor. I had so many questions- what, how, where, when, and why? But I just mumbled some incoherent stuff about trapping a Sasquatch and whether there was actual evidence of a sighting.

“I do a lot of research in this mountain area,” said the Sasquatch hunter. “I haven’t come across it, but there’s evidence.”

I was really unprepared for that encounter. My skepticism won out, and I was unable to tap into his knowledge of nature and Sasquatch folklore. I wish I had been told beforehand that he was a Sasquatch “researcher”, then I would’ve formulated more intelligent questions. He seemed like a very interesting guy who spent a lot of time in the wilderness and had many stories to tell in his own way. I just couldn't connect. I’m certain that interacting with a smart-ass city slicker like me was probably just as bizarre as encountering a Sasquatch.

For some reason this experience has remained in my memory and resurfaces now and then whenever I think about the Sasquatch. Everyone has a piece of the puzzle, I remind myself, no matter how strange that piece may seem to others.