British Columbia Canada, 2006

I have a very quick story from 2006. I am from the U.K. and my wife and I married in September 2006 and spent our honeymoon in Canada. We drove from Calgary all the way up the ice fields highway from Banff to Jasper (there were some unseasonal storms around including snow) and eventually crossed over into BC. Two weeks we were on the road being great tourists, but inevitably made it over to Vancouver Island. We used Victoria as our base and drove out to various places. One trip took us North West up to Uclulet. We had decided we would do the rain forest trail (amazing place) and that we wanted to head all the way north to Tofino on Highway 4 (Pacific Rim Highway). 

The weather was slightly closed in and we had yet to see the ocean or the many miles of log filled sandy beaches. So when we saw signs for the Combers Beach trailhead and an empty car park, we thought we’d have the place to ourselves. 

Anyway, we parked up and headed over to the notice board. There were a couple of official park ranger notices about a Cougar having been spotted in the area a couple of days previously, but we were not phased. We’d heard they would likely avoid us as would the black bears and that we should keep the conversation going so any wild animals would hear us before see us and make themselves scarce. The trail to the beach looked pretty clear from the car park end and it was only meant to be 1 km or so of hiking. 

We started off down the trail and under the forest canopy it was a little gloomy in places. Despite our willingness to want to talk about the beauty of the place it pretty soon became apparent that this was very forced and we both looked nervous. After no more than a couple of minutes we reached a bend to the right in the trail. There was some old gnarly redwood stump and it seemed gloomier than ever. What was worse though was the atmosphere. It was oppressive and both my wife and I stopped and without saying anything looked at each other. We instinctively knew something was not right. We took a couple of steps on and then the smell hit us. It was unwholesome and foul, like rotting flesh but mixed with horse manure and urine. At this point the hairs on my forearms and the back of my neck stood entirely on end. My wife suggested we head back to the car and I did not hesitate in agreeing. We walked calmly despite the urge to run, but I had a real twitch and kept looking behind me every other step. I felt sure we were being watched but heard nothing and saw nothing. Not so much as an angry chipmunk like the many we had already encountered on this trip. 

I should say at this point that neither my wife nor I had any understanding that a Sasquatch was anything but a myth. I knew nothing about tree peeking or associated odours. I definitely knew nothing about infrasound or being ‘hummed off’. 

It is only with hindsight and some exposure to tales of Sasquatch encounters that I now understand what might have happened to us on that little trail. 

We were desperate to see the Pacific beaches but not so foolhardy as to ignore our instincts to turn and get the hell out of there. 

We got back to the car and the sense of uneasiness did not leave us until we had exited the car park by turning north on highway 4. 

Our next stop was the camp ground only a few miles up the road with good clear access to the beach, so we had our beach walk and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of our remaining few days in the Pacific Northwest. 


​