by E C Hunter
That had been almost a week ago. By the time the man had got home and reported his findings, a family picnicking near Pleasant Bay had reported that a large creature walking upright and covered with long shaggy hair had frightened them by screaming and throwing rocks at them. The local police had given them short shrift and the local newspaper had mocked them. Nova Scotia has little if any modern history of Sasquatch activity.
It was precisely this lack of recent activity that made a sighting in Nova Scotia so important to Magnus…and of course Archie as he was now an integral part of the expedition. If it was assumed that there was little Sasquatch activity reported as there were few, if any, Sasquatch present then that would mean that a sighting was more credible. People would not be expecting it. Also any Sasquatch in the area were most probably transient and therefore would not know the area so well and would therefore be less able to disappear into the wilderness as it would in its own backyard. Magnus explained it all to Archie.
Of all the Sasquatch expeditions Magnus had led this one clearly held the most potential, this one could at last offer up full and final proof of a large hominid living and breeding in North America. Archie had scarcely seen his father so excited, he was almost quivering with anticipation – like a bow string drawn tight or a spaniel desperate to be sent for a retrieve.
“Right, that’s the last of it” Magnus stopped the flow of information and indicated that they had finished loading the Land Rover and were ready to leave. “Flight leaves Glasgow at nine tonight and it’s a good five hours there so we’d best be gone – sure you’ve got everything – passport etc?” Archie nodded. Whilst his father might be a social scatterbrain, his expedition preparation ran like a military operation, nothing was left to chance.
George stomped up, still in filthy tweed breeks and checked shirt, climbed into the driver’s seat without a word and started the engine. Archie glanced at Magnus, saw the glimmer of amusement in his father eye and broke into a big silly grin. They climbed in, George floored the throttle and flew off down the long gravel drive in a cloud of dust.
Through the 6 hour flight Magnus kept up a commentary to Archie explaining the history and folklore of Sasquatch, along with all his indigenous names. He told Archie of the famous Patterson-Gimlin film, about the work of the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organisation, about Albert Ostman’s experience, about the various famous photographs and sightings and about the hoaxers and fruitcakes.
Of course Archie had already read much about Sasquatch from his father’s library but was happy to hear it all again. Something he hadn’t heard was the indigenous name for a Sasquatch type creature said to have inhabited the Eastern side of Canada – Windigo. Nor had he heard the tales behind the name. Stories so different from the rest of North America that they made the blood chill in the veins and the hair on the back of the neck stand on end. There were tales of a flesh eating beast roaming the woods...oddly referred to as a cannibal by the local Micmac peoples. Tales of an avenging spirit-beast that came as a warning to the world. Terrifying tales of dark nights and missing children.
Halifax airport loomed at them out of the evening sun as they turned on to their final approach. A major problem for any of Magnus’s expeditions was always clearing customs. With so many bags and so much weird and wonderful equipment it could take hours before they were allowed to enter the country. Today they were lucky. A mere half hour later they were looking for the hired Dodge Ram that would serve as their mobile office. Archie grinned as he saw the size of the massive pick up waiting for them.
“Ready Arch?”
“Yep, let’s go paw” Archie put on a comical American accent and let out a rebel yell, pumping his fist into the air, grinning madly as his father gunned the big V8. Dawn was breaking as they crossed into the Cape Breton National Park. Fingers of golden daylight crept over the forested hills and glittered off countless lakes and rivers.
A black shape emerged from the still dark forest and lumbered across the road in front of them. Archie gasped as it appeared but quickly turned it into a yawn as he saw it was a black bear. The bear trundled away into the trees on private bear business of its own.
“Told you there were bears” Magnus said lightly.
“Yeah, but I know that black bears – Ursus Americanus, are much less dangerous than brown bears – Ursus Arctos, er, so there!””
“Alright Mr Clever Clogs so you’ve been doing some reading. Tell me the scientific name for the Moose”
“Alces alces”
“Hah! I’ll get you, the White Tailed Deer?”
“Odocoileus virginianus”
“OK, you might your know your animals but how about your plants heh? How about the Paper Birch huh huh?
Archie dug deep into his recently acquired knowledge of the flora and fauna of Eastern Canada “Betula something, Okay I give in”.
“Betula papyrifera. Pretty darn good though kiddo, we’ll make a biologist of you yet!”.
Archie preened inwardly at his father’s approbation. Archie had always inclined towards sciences - nature studies had been his favourite topic in primary school and he was currently top of his year in biology at School. He read voraciously with a thirst for knowledge inherited from his father. His biology teacher, Professor Jenkins, was young, dynamic and inspirational and able to push Archie that little bit further than he often felt capable of.
Magnus slowed the big truck and rumbled to a stop in the gravelled parking area of a roadside diner.
“Breakfast my boy, let’s see how you get on with a pile of waffles drowned in syrup with crispy bacon on the side”. Archie gave him a sidelong look –– bacon and syrup? Weird. Fifteen minutes later Archie was starting on his second helping, clearly having decided that bacon, waffles and syrup really went together quite nicely.
Magnus sipped his coffee and studied his son. It had been a long time since he had taken the time to really look at his boy. The untidy sandy hair, pale, slightly freckled skin. Shoulders already starting to broaden, long, strong limbs and clear green eyes. He was his father’s boy without a doubt but the cast of an eyebrow, the profile of his nose and those eyes, they were his mother’s. Archie looked up from his loaded plate and caught his fathers’ gaze. As always, he could read his dad’s thoughts. He was thinking about Mum. Gone for over four years now, growing slightly hazy in Archie’s memory but not in his father’s. For Magnus she was still very real.
“So dad, what’s next? Do we have a plan?” Archie drew his fathers’ thoughts back to the present. Magnus shook his head slightly as if to dislodge a stuck memory and grinned.
“We go find a large hairy indigenous hominid – in other words, it’s time to meet Lee. Back to the Battle Bus” Magnus smiled, stood up and tousled his son’s hair. “Come on.
Twenty odd kilometres (Canada is metricated) along the road from the diner was a parking area for hikers. A battered Ford truck was parked in the middle, a huge bear of a man leaning against the tailgate drinking coffee from a flask the size of a propane cylinder. He wore a Cape Breton Screaming Eagles cap, red plaid shirt, a tuft of hair sprouting from the open neck, faded blue jeans tucked into a partially laced pair of Danners. If you looked in a dictionary for the word Canadian, there would be a picture of Lee Poulenc.
The bear glanced sideways as the Dodge drew in alongside him. Slowly a smile spread across the big man’s face, creasing his tanned nut-brown features into deep folds. He wrenched open the driver’s door, pulled Magnus from his seat and enveloped him in a bone crushing, gut squeezing hug. Archie climbed from the passenger side and walked round the front of the vehicle with a little trepidation half expecting to have the boa constrictor treatment applied to him too. The bear-like man released Magnus and moved towards Archie. Reaching out he took Archie’s hand in his great paw and squeezed heartily.
“Guess you’re Archie, eh? Lee asked.
“Yep” replied Archie, somewhat over-awed by the reception. Not quite sure what to make of this man-mountain. “Nic
e to meet you”” Mr Poulenc.
“Lee, none of this mister stuff young ‘un.”
“OK, Lee it is then” answered Archie, already warming to Lee’s friendly outlook and warm personality. Archie surreptitiously wiped his hand on the back of his trousers when Lee turned back to his father.
“Right then Lee, fill us in on what you’ve heard” Magnus got straight down to business. “We need all the locations, witnesses – contact numbers if possible. We need to find out if there are any permissions we need to operate and who from – I’ll leave that to you Lee. The usual fee applies.” Magnus never trusted people’s good nature to get the job done, a little cold, hard cash always helped to keep people interested. “We’’ll camp of course, no point in wasting time travelling from a hotel. Archie, there’ll be a bit of a walk in, get your boots on and your rucksack ready. Lee, you OK to help pack some of this stuff in?”
“No problem Boss Man, I’ve got you a site up in the hills away from the popular trails and only a couple of K’s from where the cop found the prints. Didn’t think you’d want to be right on it.”
“Good work Lee, will the cars be OK here?” Magnus reeled off half a dozen more requests, leaving Lee and Archie in no doubt who was in charge.
Archie was staggered at the speed everything was happening – only a few hours ago they had been in the air, the whole mission had seemed remote, abstract even, yet now here he was standing at the bottom of a steep slope clad in maples and oaks about to leave the safety of the ‘known world’ for goodness knew what. A shiver of apprehension ran down Archie’s Spine. And another thing - here was a whole side to his father he had never seen before. This man was dynamic and pro-active. Very different from the self-absorbed, slightly aloof character he knew at home. Archie was, to say the least, impressed.
“Lee can you take the red dry-bag, it’s got all the trail cams, if you can manage it one of the Peli Cases too. Archie, rucksack on, grab this camera case, let’s move out” Magnus brought Archie back to the present. The orders snapping off caused Archie to remember that his father had spent a few years as an officer in the Royal Marines before he had switched careers to zoology. That had been before Archie had been born of course. Indeed, Magnus didn’t meet Archie’s mother until he started university, after he had decided that his heart lay in places other than the military.
The first few hundred meters or so is always the worst, and this time was no exception. The slope up from the car park was steep with no easily followed trail. All three of the party were puffing and red faced by the time Magnus called a pause at the top of the first rise.
“Archie, first lesson” said Magnus quietly. “Every time you stop for a pause, straight out with the binoculars and do a slow sweep of the ground ahead. At the same time you should be listening and sniffing for any odd odours. There’ll be a few here that you haven’t smelled before but fox is the same, Lee and I will point out the other common smells to you as we go. The odour we’’re looking for is something like a wet spaniel soaked in pee with a hint of garlic”.
“Yum, sounds delightful”
“They can really stink Archie, it’s a really complex smell, we think they may have a number of smells that can be released at will. The real stinker I mentioned as a kind of warning scent – like a skunk. There is also probably a sweeter smell they use as a communication marker, possibly territorial, possibly even to identify individuals – so keep your nose twitching”.
It began to occur to Archie that he was no longer a mere tag-a-long to the mission but that he was expected to learn and participate in all aspects of the expedition. As if his father had read his thoughts he said “We’ll expect you to pick up a lot of the observation duties Arch, your eyes, ears and nose will be much more sensitive than our old organs, you’ll be able to spot something moving miles away”. Magnus knew that his sons’ powers of observation were already finely honed from observing deer out on the hill at home. It would take little tutoring to bring his powers of observation up to those of a Royal Marine sniper. It was good to feel useful, appreciated.
“OK Arch, start with the naked eye. Try not to focus on anything in particular and just allow any movement in the landscape to drift into your vision. If nothing leaps out you can switch to binoculars, make sure you cup your hand around the object lens if the sun is on you, you don’t want any flashes alerting anything that might be about. Now begin at that clump of maples on the left and work your binoculars in a series of horizontal sweeps, making sure you take in every inch of ground. You’re looking for shadows, out of place shapes, movement, broken branches, anything that just doesn’t seem to fit in”.
“Like that Whitetail deer dad?”
“Where?”
“Third oak up from the stream bed, just lying in the shade chewing its cud.” Archie passed the powerful Zeiss binoculars to his father.
“You’re imagining it Archie, there’s nothing there”.
“Get the spotting scope out dad, you’ll see it. It’s quite a nice buck too”.
“OK, OK, I believe you, point proven son, from now on you’re our chief observer”. Archie smiled inwardly, completing his sweep of the ground ahead of them.
“All done Arch asked his father?”
“Yup, time to move on is it?”
The trio paused three more times to sweep the ground ahead before they reached the camp site that Lee had found previously. It proved to be on a perfect south-facing shelf set into a maple shrouded hillside, the visibility was perfect, a babbling stream flowed nearby. Lee had already carried in his griddle, tripod, skillet, vast kettle and cast iron Dutch Oven – the all-purpose backwoodsman’s cooking pot beloved of all true outdoorsmen.
“Right, Archie, before we do anything else, the camp rules. One. Put this spot into your GPS and call it camp one. I’ll do the same. Two. No poohs or pees within 200 meters of the camp and don’t forget to bury all solids and carry a whistle with you at all times. Three. All water must be boiled for 4 minutes before drinking. Four. Shovel stays by the fire, you know your fire management, keep it low and slow, seasoned hardwood only etcetera. Five. We take out all rubbish that can’t be burned. Six. Keep it tidy – we don’t want any stray kit left lying around. Seven. All food is stored outside the camp, high in a tree; let’s try and keep temptation away from the bears. OK? Right, let’s get set up”.
The veteran of many rough camping expeditions Archie launched straight into setting his own bivi up. By habit and preference Magnus always chose to sleep under a basha or bivi. This simple arrangement of a single lightweight waterproof sheet stretched between two trees and tied down at the corners gave a condensation free, airy sleep. Archie had early on adopted this form of camping as normal and had never succumbed to the lure of a tent. Securing his top rope with a falconers knot Archie glanced across to his father and saw with satisfaction that he had beaten his father setting up by a good a margin. He strolled over and nonchalantly leant against a tree while his father put the finishing touches to his own set up.
“All done Arch?”
“Yup” Archie answered smugly
“Then why is your basha dangling by one end from that tree huh?”
“Knickers!” Archie scuttled off to fix his basha properly.
“Do a job properly, do it once” called Magnus after him, grinning.
“Hah! It wasn’t my fault dad, a branch fell on it. There were a few moments of silence. Dad, I think you’d better come over here……I pitched my basha to this pine, the branch that’s on it is from a maple.
Chapter 3
“Keep still Arch, be there in a mo” Magnus ran cat-footed across the camp site to where Archie’s drooping basha lay, the maple branch pinning one end to the ground. Magnus crouched down to look at the log, pinching the bridge of his nose. A gesture that conveyed his utter concentration. “Well, it certainly didn’t fall off this tree, in fact it didn’t fall off any tree recently, look at the broken ends; the timber’s grey, it’s been off the tree for
a while”. Archie crouched down next to his father.
“So, how did it end up on my basha? I didn’t hear anything”.
“Must have been while you were walking over to me, your footsteps must have obscured the sound. As to how, well, it can only have been thrown, but hell…I couldn’t throw that big old lump of timber…Lee, over here, have a look”. Lee sauntered over and knelt to join the others, ‘What do you make of this Lee – thrown? By whom…or what’?
“Reckon it can only be one thing boss…we aint wanted here, can’t have come from nowhere”.
Magnus made a non-committal kind of noise and stood, stretching his back by placing both hands on his hips and leaning backwards. An odd reaction Archie thought.
“Food’ he said. ‘I need some dinner. Archie, get the fire going. Lee and I will get firewood together”. Archie, pleased at being left to get on with the fire rooted around in his pack until he found his knife and Firesteel. Carefully Archie laid a platform of green sticks in the bottom of the shallow hole Lee had dug earlier and pulled from his pocket a mass of birch bark tinder he had peeled from a tree close to the edge of the camp site. He placed the ball of tinder in the centre of the platform and set about collecting two large handfuls of very thin, dry birch twigs. One handful he bent until they kinked but did not break and placed behind the tinder bundle. The other bundle he placed on the ground, close at hand and prepared to strike the spark.
‘Preparation young Archie, is key to fire lighting’ he could almost hear George’s voice in his ear. Archie put down the Firesteel and set about gathering a few handfuls of larger kindling twigs and another armful of larger fuel wood. This would keep the fire going until Magnus and Lee returned with the serious wood. It would be pointless to light his birch bark and twigs if there was nothing to sustain the fire after they had burned away.
