IN MEMORY OF DONALD WALLACE
After the passing of our father’s death we needed to fulfill a promise to him. That promise was to share my dad’s knowledge of tracking Bigfoot. It was our father’s dying wish to publish his book called Tracking Bigfoot. Our father Donald Lee Wallace was man who lived in the North Cascade Mt. for the past 30 years. He tracked Bigfoot for the past 28 years. He lived off the land and appreciated each day God gave him. My father battled cancer for many years. I believe that due to the years of living in the Mt. and a trapper before that made him an expert when it came to reading the woods. I remember walking down the trail with our dad to go fishing and he would point out different tracks by the animals that live in the woods. My dad fishing would be putting on his waiter boots and stand out in the roaring river. The beauty that surrounded us. The sense of relaxation. I knew why he was a Mt. Man. He didn’t have to deal with the city stress instead he could enjoy the relaxation of the mountains.
Sample of what you will read in the book Tracking Bigfoot
To hear Bigfoot mentioned is not uncommon in this part of the Northwest. In fact, a number of young, as well as older people have knowledge about it and have heard some of the wild screams, different from mountain lions or anything common in this area. Some people have recognized their sign and some have seen it. I have interviewed five people who have seen six Bigfoot over the past 27 years, and the most recent was Mid July of last year, 2008—all in the Marblemount, Washington area.
Marge and I were both anxious to go back up where her dogs got “freaked out.” We didn’t have a clue what to expect—maybe nothing, but we were going prepared for anything, just in case.
We put our backs against a huge fir tree and I tried one of my callers that imitates a jack rabbit in distress, but I vary it to sound more like a young deer. This has been successful for me in the past with calling in mountain lions.
I used to do outdoor articles a long time ago on hunting and fishing. It included calling in predatory animals. One was in Western Outdoors Magazine and the others were in Fur-Fish-Game Magazine. It took place in the late sixties and early seventies in Ohio, California and Washington.
I went back into the same wilderness area where Marge and I had gone the day before, where she and her dogs experienced some frightening stuff prior to that.
This time, though, I decided to move very slow, stopping periodically to carefully look around, slowly moving my head from left to right. I picked my way around dry sticks or anything that would be noisy. I ended up back at the small, broken tree, and then I shoes a grown-over depression, heavy in short foliage, to just sit and wait for awhile. I chose this depression so I’d be less conspicuous. Almost right away I heard a noise down the slope from me and distant. I thought there must be somebody in there. Pretty soon I heard another noise off to my right, and now was another sound behind me, not very pleasant!
The wood-rapping sounds were more occasional and not constant. I tried to carefully see threw the brush and trees in hopes of getting the ultimate picture, my main goal right now.
Suddenly my uneasiness worsened. I could feel the hair starting to raise on the back of my neck. Also, I could feel the vicious stares from some giant anthropoid unbeknown to me. It was worse than the time I called in a mountain lion, crouched ten yards behind my back. There was no comparison from the mountain lion stares and these stares—I have since referred to as laser eyes.
I try to take pride, and in the past had bragged a little about being fearless, but these piercing stares followed by a strong feeling of grave danger was pushing it.
There was a sense of urgency to get out of there right away, but I chose to “tough” it out, and I’d do almost anything to get a good picture. I’d had my share of jumping out of airplanes, while in the 11th Airborne, combat in the Korean War and other stuff, but to stay was the toughest thing I ever forced myself to do. There was that strong feeling of being very close to death if I stayed.
As the knock sounds got louder, it sounded to me like wood hammering on hollow wood. It did have a distinctive hollow sound, and I also wondered if some of the sound was emitted vocally. I strained my neck and my eyes trying to see something, my small camera ready, but I saw nothing.
I decided it was time to draw my short 9 m.m. pistol. And here again, I had no intent to use it and had no desire to harm anything unless it was a life or death situation—right now I wasn’t sure. It was, however, a comfort and a feeling of security once I got the 9 m.m. in my hand.
What followed was totally unexpected. The knock-like sounds ceased. The aggressive stares were gone; The danger, I felt sure,was gone. I could finally relax. I heard a few more knocks-like sounds but more distant, and in a few minutes it became very quiet again.
It was time to leave and head back to my truck. I took my time, and the slow walk in the fresh mountain air was invigorating, and I was feeling much better, but still very excited inside, and still somewhat shaken from my wild experience. I felt like I had been watching one of those wild, horror movies, only I was in it.
WRITTEN BY DONALD WALLACE
SUMMER OF 2010 MIKE AND LORI CONTINUE THEIR FATHER’S LEGACY
Mike and I set off on our journey Saturday June 19, 2010. My brother Mike lives on a horse ranch and the stalls have to be cleaned before we set off on our long drive to the Bigfoot Country. The drive is 2 hours away from where we live. I enjoy driving on the back roads for the scenic view. The Cascade Loop. The sky is over cast but we are hopeful it will be a beautiful day for a hike. I’m so anxious to explore the area where our dad was tracking Bigfoot. I know that it is dangerous for me but I feel that this is something I have to do. My father would never take me to Bigfoot Country for my safety. Our dad would say,” No, Lori it’s not safe for you to go where I do. Plus I think they are getting to know me and I don’t want to scare them away.” Knowing this I will be careful. Along the drive I’m reminded of memories I have of our dad. Stops along the way where we went fishing along the Skagit River. I could feel our father’s presence all around us.
Two long hours later we arrive in the Bigfoot Country. I park the car and we get our gear and start our journey. Mike is warring camouflage hat, coat and backpack that belonged to our dad. Mike uses his camcorder while we walk through a dense wooded trail. I take photos all around us. You never know if Bigfoot is watching us and lurking around a tree on the hill side. This area is the old gold mining area our dad talks about in the book. We are keeping our eyes peeled searching for evidence while walking slowly. Mike points out there is a den on the hillside to our left. I’m so amazed of what I’m looking at. It’s huge! Looks like part of two fallen trees angled and are covered with tree branches. I take photos of different angels. We keep walking ahead careful not to step on a foot print. Mike sees a foot print on the hill side close to the area of the den. It is a dirt hillside that levels out apx. 20 feet high. The foot print I could see visual toe marks human like. The bottom of the print is of a slid print because the creature was going uphill. Unable to make a plaster of a print that is on the hillside. Mike tells me that is probably why dad never got a plaster print.
Mike tells me according to dad’s map and documents we should be coming up to a creek soon. Mike remembering back when he was young and walked this same trail with dad. Mike shares his story with me that took place 28 years ago. Our Dad, Uncle Herb, one of his sons and my brother walked on this very same trail. Our Dad and Uncle Herb knew of their being a gold mine and they were curious and wanted to check out this area. They pare up with their sons. Our dad hears his brother Uncle Herb. Our dad and Mike hurry to see what it is all about. Our Uncle Herb and his son Terrie came across a large human like foot print…Bigfoot! Then shortly after they got an erry feeling. The hair on their arms stud straight up. Our Uncle Herb looks at our Dad and says,” Lets get out of here!” The look on our dad’s face said the same. They all hurried out of there and looked back making sure nothing was fallowing them. One of the most scary moments they ever had in the woods. That was the beginning of our Dad tracking Bigfoot. I tell Mike I remember hearing this story but I didn’t know that it was this place.
I hear the sounds of the creek. Oh good I felt more at ease walking up to the creek the sounds of the water is peaceful. Mike tells me to be careful not to step on any footprints. This area is one of the hot spots for prints. They must come down for water here. Mike sees another print. And discovers a trail of fresh prints leading up the hill side from the creek. The prints are in a mossy area covered with twigs from tree droppings. The prints you could miss if you were not looking. It had rained early this morning we could tell and it was starting to sprinkle. We give it a try with the plaster to make a print. I walk down the hill side for more water out of the creek. Unfortunately it didn’t work out. We needed an expert plaster print person with us. I did take photos of the before and after.
WRITTEN BY LORI SIMMONS DAUGHTER OF DONALD WALLACE