Two Nights Alone With Bigfoot - One Man's Story

I have been photographing forests for most of my adult life.

I'm not a professional, although I have sold a few prints and had some of my work used in local calendars.

Mostly, it gives me a reason to disappear into the woods for several days with no schedule and no one expecting anything from me.

In late September of 2018, I planned a four-night trip into the Allegheny National Forest in northwestern Pennsylvania.

I wanted photographs of the old hemlocks along one of the smaller tributaries that fed into the Tienesta Creek.

There had been rain earlier in the week, and I was expecting that the moss, the ferns, and the exposed rock, they would have the deep colors I was looking for.

I parked at the end of an old forest service spur shortly after nine in the morning.

A steel gate blocked the road beyond that point, but the roadbed continued into the woods and gave me an easy route for the first mile.

In my pack, there was my tent, my sleeping gear, food, water, filter, camera body, three lenses, tripod, and enough batteries for the entire trip.

it was heavier than i liked to carry but i had carried worse the farther i walked the older the forest became hemlocks crowded the slopes and their branches shut out so much light that it looked like evening beneath them even near midday the old road narrowed to a path and then it nearly disappeared under ferns and fallen needles by early afternoon i found a level bench above a narrow creek it was well back from the water and protected on three sides by higher ground An old ravine lay east of the site, but the slope was gradual near the camp and grew steeper farther downstream.

I pitched my tent, gathered dead wood, and spent the remaining daylight taking photographs along the creek.

That first evening, it was exactly what I had hoped for.

I ate beside a small fire while the water moved over the rocks below me.

The temperature dropped just after sunset, and the smell of damp hemlock needles settled over the hollow.

Sometime after dark, the woods became unusually quiet.

I noticed it because the change happened so quickly.

Tree frogs had been calling near the creek, and something small had been moving through the leaves behind my tent.

But within a few minutes, both sounds abruptly stopped.

The fire continued to snap, but beyond its light, I heard nothing.

I sat there longer than I normally would have, watching the trees.

Eventually, I blamed the silence on my own nerves.

I had been alone in remote places many, many times before, but this sudden silence was something new to me.

Giving up, I put out the fire thoroughly, and I climbed into my tent.