Of all the many and varied accounts of encounters with a Bigfoot, one which really stands out is also one that many may know nothing – or very little – about. The story came from a Native American man, one Frank Dan, and was shared with the late J.W. Burns. The latter was a man who played a significant role in the field of Bigfoot research. Indeed, as Destination America notes, the word “Sasquatch” was created by Burns in the 1920s. DA also note: “Burns had been hearing stories about large, hairy, evasive animals from Chehalis Indian friends he kept in close contact with for years and arrived at the name by combining a bunch of different versions he had heard to create his own phonetic version.”
With that said, let’s get back to the matter of the story of Frank Dan. Although it wasn’t until the 1950s that Dan shared his story with Burns, the encounter had actually occurred back in the summer of 1936, specifically in July. The location was Morris Creek, a tributary of the Harrison River at Chehalis, British Columbia, Canada. Having taken careful note of all of Dan’s story, Burns wrote-up the following, amazing account, which went like this:
“It was a lovely day, the clear waters of the creek shimmered in the bright sunshine and reflected the wild surroundings of cliff, trees, and vagrant cloud. A languid breeze wafted across the rocky gullies. Frank’s canoe was gliding like a happy vision along the mountain stream. The Indian was busy hooking one fish after another; hungry fish that had been liberated only a few days before from some hatchery. But the Indian was happy as he pulled them in and sang his medicine song. Then, without warning, a rock was hurled from the shelving slope above, falling with a fearful splash within a few feet of his canoe, almost swamping the frail craft.”
It should be noted that even today reports of Bigfoot throwing rocks are more than common. The story continues:
“Startled out of his skin, Frank glanced upward, and to his amazement beheld a weird looking creature, covered with hair, leaping from rock to rock down the wild declivity with the agility of a mountain goat. Frank recognized the hairy creature instantly. It was a Sasquatch. He knew it was one of the giants – he had met them on several occasions in past years, once on his own doorstep. But those were a timid sort and not unruly like the gent he was now facing.”
Frank Dan quickly sought to bring matters to a halt, and in an interesting way: “Frank called upon his medicine powers, sula, and similar spirits to protect him. There was an immediate response to his appeal. The air throbbed and some huge boulders slid down the rocky mountain side, making a noise like the crack of doom. This was to frighten away the Sasquatch. But the giant was not to be frightened by falling rocks. Instead he hurried down the declivity carrying a great stone, probably weighing a ton or more, under his great hairy arm, which Frank guessed—just a rough guess—was at least 2 yards in length.
“Reaching a point of vantage—a jutting ledge that hung far out over the water—he hurled it with all his might, this time missing the canoe by a narrow margin, filling it with water and drenching the poor frightened occupant with a cloud of spray. Some idea of the size of the boulder may be gained from the fact that its huge bulk blocked the channel. Later it was dredged out by Jack Penny on the authority of the department of hinterland navigation. It may now be seen on the 10th floor of the Vancouver Public Museum in the department of ‘Curious Rocks.’ When you’re in Vancouver drop in to the museum and T. P. O. Menzies, curator, will gladly show it to you.
“The giant now posed upon the other ledge in an attitude of wild majesty as if he were monarch of these foreboding haunts, shaking a colossal fist at the ‘great medicine man’ who sat awe-struck and shuddering in the canoe, which he was trying to bail out with his shoe. The Indian saw the Sasquatch was in a towering rage, a passion that caused the great man to exude a repugnant odor, which was carried down to the canoe by a wisp of wind. The smell made Frank dizzy and his eyes began to smart and pop. Frank never smelt anything in his whole medicine career like it. It was more repelling than the stench of moccasin oil gone rotten.”
The story concluded: “Indeed, it was so nasty that the fish quitted the pools and nooks and headed in schools for the Harrison River. The Indian, believing the giant was about to dive into the water and attack him, cast off his fishing lines and paddled away as fast as he was able.”
The startling encounter was over.