Anomaly1998-08-03
In 1998, I was backpacking by myself in the Marble Mountain WIlderness in the Klamath National Forest the third week of August. The Klamath and the Marbles are particularly rugged and steep …
both described a dark figure · 94 km away
On Wednesday, February 20, 2013, I was driving with three other women to Trinidad, California, to attend a 3-day quilting event. With me in the car were Gloria Y. in the front passenger seat, my sister Jeanette Williams, and my sister in law, Carmen T., in the back seat. It was close to 5:00 p.m. when we arrived in the Trinidad area on highway 101. However, I missed the exit for Trinidad and had to drive up to the next one to go back. I couldn’t get back on the highway there, so had to turn south onto Patricks Point Road to get back to Trinidad. The sun was shining through the trees. As I drove, someone stepped out onto the road in front of me. He wasn’t dangerously close, but close enough to cause me to slow down and say something along the lines of “What an asshole!” As I got nearer to him, my first thought was, “He’s really tall.” My second thought was, “What is he wearing? He’s got something on that is solid black from head to toe, and there aren’t any lines to denote a jacket, or a collar or pant legs.” He appeared to be in silhouette, with the sun behind him. He was walking east to west. My next thought was, “His arms are down to his knees!” Lastly, I thought he was trim, with broad shoulders like Michael Phelps. He was totally smooth. However, I could not see his face. He seemed to be looking away from us. He was walking with a purposeful stride, and didn’t take very many steps to cross in front of us. It only took a few seconds for me to reach the spot he crossed. I looked right, where he would have stepped off the road, and all there was, was thick brush and trees. I had expected a path or clearing, if he was going to cross there, because on the left where he stepped out was forested land, right next to some sort of fire station, a white building with an American flag on a flagpole. At any rate, we all wondered, “What was that!” And Bigfoot came to mind. After we got settled into our motel rooms, we compared our impressions. My sister, Jeanette Williams, decided to make a report to the BFRO. She entered a report onto the BFRO website. Sometime after we had returned home, someone from BFRO called Jeanette to ask her to repeat her story and to invite us to a town hall meeting being held that spring. It was too far for us to go back. My sister and Carmen had work commitments, so we didn’t go.