(Written Report Below Next Video)
Tony reports
I thought it was about time to share my encounter. I think it is significant because there is no other explanation for what happened to us back in 1973 in the Lochsa Wilderness in Idaho. I went from being a skeptic to being a 100% believer in a matter of moments.
I grew up on a farm/ranch in Idaho. We had horses and were
avid hunters and fishermen. We hunted on horseback and would often take the
horses up in the hills for long rides year-round to keep them in shape. Prior
to September 1973, I was very skeptical about the existence of bigfoot. I was
15 years old then, but had ridden hundreds of miles in mountains of Idaho
without any evidence whatsoever of such a creature. I guess I figured that if
such an animal existed . . . I would have seen something, or heard something
from the men that my father hunted with. Most of them were seasoned hunters and
cattlemen who had spent a good portion of their lives in the mountains. Every
September, my father and a group of his friends would take horses and pack
horses and pack into one of the wilderness areas in North Idaho, usually the
Lochsa.
I need to preface this story with some information about my
horse. I had, arguably, one of the best mountain horses in the Northwest. That
horse trusted me implicitly, whether it was crossing a river or traversing
questionable terrain, she never hesitated. She was not afraid of black bears or
cougars. She was the only horse that would pack out a bear if we killed one,
and we actually had a cougar within 10 yards of us on one trip. She didn’t even
flinch. She was very mild tempered and was exceptional in the hills. This will
become an important fact later in the story.
In September of 1973, I went with my father and 8 of his
hunting buddies on a 2-week elk hunting trip in the Lochsa Wilderness. Each of
us had a riding horse and a pack horse. Ten riding horses and ten pack horses.
I was 15 years old. This was my second trip to this area. The first day was
spent driving from our homes in southwest Idaho up to the trailhead where
Boulder Creek runs into the Lochsa River. We spent the night there, then packed
the horses at first light the next morning and headed up Boulder Creek . . .
approximately 19 miles. Our original intent was to camp in a meadow on Surprise
Creek, where we had camped the prior year. However, when we got to Surprise
Creek, we found that two hunters from Canyon County (Idaho) were already camped
there. They had drawn a once-in-a-lifetime bighorn sheep tag and wanted to hunt
the area around Stanley Butte, which was quite rocky. So, we decided to camp a
bit further up on Cliff Creek.
Each day, we would pair up with a different hunting partner,
five pairs in all, and each pair would hunt a different area. We figured that
hopefully somebody would run into some elk. On the second day of our actual
hunt, I was paired with an old cowboy named Louie. Louie had grown up raising
cattle and riding the mountains. He was about 60 years old then, and he also
had a great mountain horse. The night before, it had snowed about 3-4 inches,
which is not unusual for that time of year. And the snow is usually melted off
by noon. Louie and I decided we would ride south to Rhoda Creek, then cut back
to the west and ride around Stanley Butte below the rocks. We headed out at
daybreak and made it to the south side of Stanley Butte as the sun was coming
up. It was a very peaceful and quiet ride in the snow. A little too quiet. As
we came around to the southwest side of Stanley Butte, both of the horses
started acting up . . . snorting, wide-eyed, nervous. The horses never acted
that way. We had to spur them to keep them going. When we came to the big open
area at the SW foot of Stanley Butte, we saw tracks in the snow. From a
distance, it looked like they might be bear or moose tracks. By the time we
reached the tracks, the horses were becoming very difficult to control. Louie
and I rode up over the tracks at the same time. The snow was perfect for tracks
and these tracks were pristine. But it was not a bear, or a moose, or anything
I had ever seen. I’ve seen hundreds of bear tracks in my life, and these were
not bear tracks. These were footprints!! Approximately 18 inches long.
Absolutely perfect prints. The animal was walking on two feet and the strides
were about 5 feet apart, with no toe or heal drag marks. The tracks were headed
into Surprise Creek canyon. I heard Louie say, “Oh shit, let’s get out of
here”. We turned the horses back toward the way we came, and they took off on a
dead run. They did not stop until we were about a mile down the trail. THEY HAD
NEVER DONE THAT. Once we got stopped, Louie looked at me and said,” No one is
going to believe us”. (Other than a few close friends, we agreed to keep it to
ourselves. Louie died in 1979 and this one of the few times I've told the
story.)
The next day, I was paired with a guy named Elmo. He was a
good friend of my father but hadn’t spent much time on a horse. I decided to
take him around the north side of Surprise Creek canyon hoping we would run
into the Canyon County hunters who were camped there and see if they’d seen
anything (i.e. Bigfoot tracks, etc.). As we started into the canyon, we ran
into the Canyon County hunters . . . headed out. They looked like hell. Their
horses weren’t packed correctly, half of their stuff was missing, and it looked
like they hadn’t slept. They told us they were headed home . . . without
filling their bighorn sheep tag. Elmo asked them why, and they told him he
wouldn’t believe it. I told them I would and asked what happened. They said
when they went to bed that night, the horses were acting up, which they
originally attributed to a bear or moose. Then they started hearing these
“primal” screams and whoops. Then, their tent started getting pelted with rocks
and branches. They said the tent was wrecked, the horses took off and they
fired their guns in the air which apparently scared off the bigfoot. The horses
came back at daybreak and they just threw whatever gear they could find on the
pack horses and headed out. That’s where we met them on the trail out to
Boulder Creek. I always wanted to find those guys and get more details, but I
never did. I’m guessing they are gone now. They looked to be about 40 years old
then, which would make them 90 or so now.
The tracks we saw were coming out of the canyon south of
Stanley Butte. We called it Old Man Canyon because Old Man Lake is there. But I
don’t think that is the real name of the canyon. But, if you look in that
canyon, it is so thick that something could hide 10 yards away and you’d never
know it. I never any tracks or other bigfoot sign after that day. But that
moment is etched in my brain. I am OK with being anonymous if needed. I just
want the world to know that they do exist, and act accordingly.
RMSO Responds
Hi Tony, we have drove and explored several places along the entire length of the Lochsa River from Lolo Montana to Orofino poking around Bigfoot sighting locations. The areas you are referencing, Old Man Lake, Surprise Creek, Boulder Canyon and Stanley Butte appear to only be accessible by foot or horseback.
