Sasquatch – Sticks and Stones (Part 1)

On Monday, September 14, 2020, I visited a wooded area about ½ mile to the east of Sabe Field. This area is heavily wooded except for the rutted, muddy entrance trail and a sand deposit situated at the end of the road. The sandy area is approximately 25’ across, 10’ wide, and is bordered by trees on three sides.

The sandy area – those are my tracks in the middle.

Whenever I go to this area, the first thing I do is park my Jeep just above the sand deposit and carefully walk down toward the soft area to see if there are any tracks. On this particular day, I was astonished to see that there was a single track on the far left side of the sand and a single track on the far right – both were very large, and both appeared to have been made by bare feet.

The track on the far right side of the sandy area, compared to my shoe

Other than my own, there were no tracks in between the one at the edge of the woods on the far left and the one at the edge of the woods on the far right. In theory, that means that whatever made the tracks covered 25′ or so in one step. This was very exciting, because it pretty much ruled out that the tracks had been made by a human. Way cool.

I left some pretty crystals nearby and made my way back up to Sabe Field to check the energetic patterns around the tree that I always sit under when I am there “visiting”, which is a large Chinese Chestnut.

On the east side of the chestnut, right at the place where the organic debris at the base of the tree meets the grass, was this rock.

At the time that I found it, these things immediately struck me:

  1. Sabe Field is mowed by the state, and in all the times I have been all over that field, I have never seen any rocks present that would interfere with mowing operations. I think any rocks were probably picked out of the field long ago.
  2. Given the smoothness of the rock, it almost certainly came out of the river, but the James is over a mile away. How did it get from there into the field?
  3. The stone is only a portion of a larger rock. The break is perfectly clean, and there is no sign of the rock being hit by something to cleave it. There are no marks, no chipping, and no damage.
  4. The stone was sitting just as shown in the first picture, with the cleaved portion in contact with the ground. However, there was no dirt or mud AT ALL on the bottom of the rock.

I was intrigued by the rock and decided to take it home with me. Oddly enough, I was so enthralled by the mystery of how it came to be there that I didn’t even notice the REALLY interesting things about it – there is a “face” on the rounded side, a strange configuration of a spiral/circle with a series of impressions located to the right of the face, and a perfect circle on the bottom that is intersected by two lines. The circle is oriented in such a way that only ¾ of it is on the rock – if it were completed, the remainder of the circle would extend into the space in front of the rock.

After getting it home and noticing these things, I took a slightly damp rag and scrubbed the stone vigorously. I wanted to see if the image was just a uniquely patterned deposit of dirt that resembled the features of a humanoid face or if it were permanently etched into the rock.

This is what the rock looked like after being cleaned (notice that there is even a string from the rag stuck in the small crack on the left):

The face was clearly still there.

I then enhanced the color of the photo to make the face more visible:

I was astonished at the clarity of the image, and then realized that the heavy brow ridge and deep eye sockets closely resembled the face of a partially materialized Being that was watching me as I took a trail camera down one night in September 2019. The first picture is full-size. You can see my hair on the left, as I face the camera and prepare to take it down off the bracket. The bright elongated spot to the right is the partially materialized face:

Here is the area of interest, cropped and enlarged:

Note the similarity to the brow ridge of the face on the rock:

As a side note, all of this reminded me about yet another face that appeared behind me in December 2018 at a different location which I frequent. This one was actually caught on video, coming in and moving back out in the blink of an eye. This picture is a still frame taken from that video:

The blue section outlines the face that appeared behind my right shoulder. If you look closely, you can see the brow ridge and the facial hair. The green section outlines the hood on my coat. I am 5’-4” tall, and the hood sits up about 3” off my head, making this Being about 7’ tall. The bright spot right in between is my flashlight. The line of light coming out from the face is emanated by the Being, and NOT from my flashlight. This is clearly evident in the video itself.

On September 18, 2020, I set up the main gifting area at Sabe Field. The spot is just inside the woodline to the west of where I sit overtop the vortex underneath the Chinese Chestnut.

When I set up that spot, I took the rock with the face on it and placed it in a hole in a tree about 6’ above the ground. The reason I did this was because I knew there was something important about the rock, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what that was. I thought that if I put it in the gifting area, it would show that I understood that that there was SOMETHING important about it, even if I didn’t understand exactly what that was yet.

On September 21, 2020, I returned to the location to the east of Sabe Field, where the footprints were the prior week. This time, there was a large, heavy stick lying in the sand which measured about 4′ long. The tire track that the stick is laying across is mine, from where I turned the Jeep around the previous week.

I thought it very odd for the stick to be there – it was far too large and heavy to be used as a walking stick, and it obviously didn’t come from one of the trees, since it resembled a fence post. As I looked at it and pondered what it was doing there, a voice rose in my head and said “it’s a knocking stick”. The thought was not my own – I felt as if it was placed there by someone else.

Delighted, I picked up the stick, brushed the sand off of it, and gave it an impressive swing at the nearest tree. Sure enough, it withstood the blow without so much as a splinter, and the sound it made was loud and clear. I giggled and wrote “thank you” in the sand. I now carry this stick with me on all of my excursions. 😉

On October 12, 2020, my mom went into the hospital for major surgery (yes, this is related – hang tight). She is incredibly sensitive to anesthesia and most every medicine ever produced, so there was a great deal of concern about her being under and how well she would tolerate it. During the few other surgeries she had undergone, she was always very slow to wake up, taking four to five times longer to come out of the anesthesia than most people, so we knew to expect a delay in her awakening this time as well.

True to form, she remained “out” for three hours longer than she should have, with the doctors and hospital staff unable to wake her.

When I was allowed into her room after she was finally alert, she was very enthusiastic about something that had happened while she was in recovery (the area where patients are taken after surgery, but before they wake up). She was extremely animated as I walked into the room, which frankly surprised the hell out of me. I expected her to be nauseous, half awake, and in no mood for conversation. Instead, she was sitting up in bed, extremely excited and gesturing spiritedly with her hands, motioning for me to come close, and grinning from ear to ear.

A little taken aback, I said “how are you feeling?”

Rather dismissively, she said “I’m fine”, and then, “but I can’t wait to tell you about what happened!”

For a bit of context, my mom is as “out there” as I am. She’s an energy worker, Taiji teacher, and explorer of all manner of phenomenon, and the last time she had surgery, she had sort-of an OBE and some visions, so I was intrigued (to say the least) to find out what had her so ramped up.

“Well for Pete’s sake, tell me, before you bust a stitch or something.”

“I saw the Stone People!”

I was confused – this is NOT what I expected, and her tone said that I was supposed to know exactly what she was talking about. I didn’t have a clue.

“Huh? The what? Who are the Stone People?”

She looked at me like I was dumb.

“You know – the Stone People – the Big People that you’ve been talking to!”

At this point, I was REALLY confused, because I had only told my mom what I had been up to in very general terms. She had spent six weeks dealing with a cancer diagnosis and all of the hoopla that came with it, so I hadn’t given her any real details about “The Bigfoot Project”, and I had certainly never referred to Sabe as “Stone People”. The idea to call them that had never even crossed my mind.

However, her words set a little bell ringing faintly in the back of my mind – there was a connection of some sort here, and I was hoping that whatever she was going to tell me would allow me to see it clearly. I was beginning to get as excited as she was. I grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed.

“Ok, tell me exactly what happened.”

Here’s the abbreviated version:

She was still asleep, but her consciousness had “split”, enabling her to be aware of what was happening in the room around her AND what was unfolding on a much more mysterious level. The staff was frequently shaking her and asking her to open her eyes, but she was unable to. She sensed the physical presence of the doctors and nurses on her left and could hear and feel them, but on the right side of the bed, the events were ethereal in nature, as if she were straddling the line between the physical and the spiritual.

On the left side of the bed, the hospital staff was trying to wake her up – she knew they were there but was unable to respond to them. She said they were irritating her because she only wanted to see what was happening on her right.

She said that on the right side of the bed, there were four stones situated in a forest, and from those stones emerged four Beings.

I asked her exactly HOW the Beings emerged from the stones – did they step out from between them, or from inside them? She animatedly explained to me that the People actually materialized from the stones. The bell in the back of my mind began to ring harder.

I then asked her what the stones themselves looked like, because I was picturing large, craggy, gray boulder-like rocks, which are a frequent feature of our mountains around here. She said that no, the rocks were NOTHING like what I was picturing – they were tall, smooth, rounded at the top and were a dark gray-red color. She specifically said that their composition was “iron heavy”.

The bell was now ringing in a frenzy, but I still couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was trying to tell me.

I asked her to describe the Stone People, and she proceeded to tell me that they were absolutely massive beings, with a covering of long, thick dark gray hair, a domed head, and virtually no neck. She again said that there were four of them, all various sizes, but the largest one held her attention more than the others because he was so unbelievably huge.

She said that she stared at him openly and this seemed to make him uncomfortable. He ducked slightly away to his right, tucking his chin down, but cutting his eyes towards her like a shy child would do. This set another bell tinkling in my brain, because her description matched almost exactly the piece of video footage I had captured on the night of August 17, right down to the ducking away to the right.

She then said, very matter of fact “they are shy and elusive”. I nodded my agreement.

Then she said something else that really startled me: “You are supposed to understand that they are not dangerous; they will not hurt you”. I told her that I understood this very well, because my interactions with them so far had produced no fear on my part, and I was not afraid to be in the woods alone with them, to which she replied “that’s good – they want to make sure you know that you should not be afraid”.

All of this was a lot to take in; it certainly was not what I was expecting her to bring back from a five-hour surgery.

I circled back around to the stones again, because there was something important about it that I just wasn’t able to put my finger on. I asked her to describe them again, and her response was exactly the same as the first time. When she began to use her hands to illustrate the way that the top of the rocks were domed, the connection finally dawned on me.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the pictures of the rock with the face on it that I had found in the field in September. I showed it to her and asked her if the top of the stones in her vision looked anything like that. Her response was immediate and very excited – “that’s EXACTLY what they look like – they were even the same color – like they’re full of iron!”

I then showed her a picture of the portion of the rock with the face on it and asked if it looked familiar. She laughed and pointed at the face, saying “they looked a LOT like that – especially the domed head, the eyes, and the hair on the lower face. Where in the world did you find this rock?”

I explained to her that I had found the rock in “Sabe Field”, under the tree where I always sat on the nights I went out to visit, and that it’s presence there was an anomaly – it certainly didn’t belong there, and it looked as though it had come from the river, which was more than a mile away.

As I explained this to her, that little bell started tinkling faintly in the back of my mind again – there was something else that I was missing, but had no idea what it was.

“Are there any big rocks around Sabe Field?” she asked.

I thought for a moment and was disheartened to have to admit that there were not. There were no rocks in the field itself, and very few in the surrounding woods. The ones that were in the woods were small, rough, and gray – nothing like the rock left under my tree or the ones from her vision.

Still, the bell clinked softly in my mind – I felt as though there was an answer just out of my reach.

After thinking about our conversation later that evening, it occurred to me that there was a slight chance that she could have been still in some sort of euphoric fugue from the anesthesia and that the whole thing was just a huge coincidence, so I decided to ask her about it when I went to visit the next afternoon.

However, she beat me to it.

On her tray table was a white bag. I asked her what was in it, and she said it was her prescriptions. I opened the top of the bag and peered inside. There was some heavy-duty pain meds in there.

“Are you actually going to take this stuff?”

“Of course not, but they seem to be determined for me to have it in case I need it.” Then she grinned mischievously and pointed to the bag. “I noticed that there was some Oxycodone in there – I was thinking that maybe if I took just a tiny bit, like maybe ¼ of a tablet, I might be able to go talk to the Stone People again.”

So much for my thinking that maybe she was just talking out of her head the day before …

She then looked at me earnestly, as if something important had just occurred to her. “What did you do with the stone?”

As soon as she asked the question, I knew instinctively that my returning it to the field and leaving it in the gifting area was a mistake.

I explained to her what I had done with it. She shook her head and frowned at me “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know, I just realized that – the rock was a gift. Returning it was disrespectful. I didn’t realize it at that time. I will go and get it tomorrow and make an apology.”

And I did, and it’s been with me ever since.

This is already a long post, and there’s much more to the story, including my realization of why a rock from the river with a face on it was left under my tree, unexpected connections to the term “Stone People”, and commonalities between the activity at the different areas that I frequent which I only recently understood.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where our story continues. Not surprisingly, things get weirder as they get clearer.

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