Go Bigfoot Or Go Home

"Oh, by the way," I said,"I found Bigfoot."
My wife looked at me from her car seat. "Did you, now?"
"Yeah. You remember that Bigfoot T-shirt I lost a couple of weeks ago? I finally found it. It was in the drawer with the superhero shirts."
She looked out at Highway 309. "Should I be watching for Bigfoot right now?"
"Probably. There have been some sightings, not too far from Dad's place. When we get there, I'm gonna check into it a little. Someone reported Bigfoot in the general neighborhood. They heard some noises, found some oversized footprints in the mud. People are thinking that all the rain and flooding has driven Bigfoot out into areas he wouldn't ordinarily be seen."
"How do you know this?"
"I get the newsletter. There's some reports of a vanishing hitchhiker, too."
"A what?"
"A vanishing hitchhiker. Sometimes they call them Resurrection Marys. You know, someone who catches a ride and then disappears."
"Right here?"
"No," I said. "Along 873, between Dad's place and Schnecksville."
"So why should I be worried about it now?"
"I didn't say you should, I said....Nevermind. I just said it was interesting, that's all."
"Are we almost to Grandpa's?" my son asked from the back seat.
"Almost there, little guy," I said, the way I'd said it fifteen times over the course of this trip. "We'll be there soon."

The sign said PSYCHIC READINGS AND TAX ASSISTANCE. It was outside the building on the corner of Main and Walnut Streets. That was typical Slatington.
I grew up in Slatington, Pennsylvania. Though I now investigate the paranormal in Lock Haven, I still visit home. We drove in the back way, through the forests, instead of the main way through Slatington. In the valley, we passed a place where the guy had wooden Bigfoot cutouts beside his barn.
"Those are kind of creepy in the dark," commented Michelle. "Did you see their eyes?"
I nodded. "Looks like reflective paint."
We pulled into the driveway, where the family was waiting. My brother Jon, is wife Amy, and my dad. Plus Miles, the little beagle.
"Hi Miles! Hi, Grandpa!" Paul called as he ran over. "We're here!"
"Check out my new keychain," I said to my brother. I held it out.
He looked it over. "A multi-tool. Nice. Is that Bigfoot?"
"Yeah, I decided I needed to replace the Piper Comanche keychain since I left the museum. It's got small wrenches and a bottle opener on it. And I have a new pen, indestructible titanium with an emergency tool." I was also wearing my green waterproof jacket with the survival kit in the pocket and the small survival tool sewn into the liner. It's possible I've taken the whole preparation thing a little too far.
"Come on in, you guys," said Amy. "Have you eaten? We have your room ready for you."
"Thanks, Amy," I said. I picked up my backpack. "It's good to see you."

It was late. Fifty-six degrees. I walked out onto the porch and sat down on the swing.
I was alone. Practically everyone but me was an early sleeper. I lit a cigar. I wasn't smoking them nearly as much since Paul was born, but I still liked to have one sometimes. I sat quietly and smoked.
My family owned thirty acres. I could see a significant portion of it from the porch, looking mostly south. The moon was almost full. I had a pretty good view.
It was as good a place as any to stake out the property and look for Bigfoot.
I sat and waited. The cigar would keep me out here about half an hour. I could hear crickets and bugs, a few birds. I could hear Highway 873, and it was half a mile away.
My home. I'd lived here almost my entire childhood. I'd organized my cousins into a group I'd called the Ghost Gang. I'd searched the fields for a mythical creature called the Christmas Tree Goblin. I'd made a sea monster trap for the pond. You know. Kid stuff.
I heard something, somewhat southwest. A loud thump that echoed through the valley---Something heavy. Then another one, and then the sound of a branch cracking.
Something was out there in the forest. It could be a bear---The last time I'd heard something like that, I'd encountered a bear on the Mid-State Trail.
I sat and waited a while more, but there was nothing more. It seemed to be done for the night.
So was I. I went inside and read a Stephen King novel for a while, and then walked upstairs to the guest room. To my surprise, I found Paul Matthew on the floor in my sleeping bag, still very much awake.
"What're you doing, little man?" I asked softly.
"I'm too excited to sleep, Daddy," he said. "I want to go downstairs."
So Paul had been planning a side adventure on his own. "No, you're staying in here," I said. "But if you want to sleep in the sleeping bag, I'll lay down and sleep with you."
Paul nodded. "Okay."

I slipped out of the house without anyone noticing. A lot of paranormal investigation works like that. My wife was watching TV, everyone else was out working the farm, and Paul was playing with Miles on the porch. Paul and the beagle were largely unsupervised, which was okay. My family's farm was the only place I was really comfortable with that---It hadn't killed me as a kid, and I'd been actively trying.
I got my green jacket, and threw my crypto kit over my shoulder. It was a black shoulder bag that contained everything I needed for checking into land monsters, water monsters, or flying monsters. I walked due north up the hill first, and then turned and went down, off the path. After a few hundred yards, I stopped.
I was now as far from any houses as I could get. I was in the most remote spot on the property.
I looked around. I didn't see anything too outstanding. As I'd walked, I'd seen one of the new homes at the top of the hill---A few new people had moved in since I'd been a kid. He'd had a hunting stand and a target range, and if Bigfoot ever wandered up there, he'd almost certainly be shot immediately. There was a deer track on the ground, in the mud, that stretched for about eight inches---The deer had slipped in the wet ground.
I walked downhill, toward the creek. All living things need water. If you want to catch a land monster, stake out the water. It's what I teach the kids.
The creek was way up, due to all the rain and flooding. I looked it over. This particular creek originated at the pond near the road, and ran about a mile into the Lehigh River. Right now, it had three or four other creeks running into it that weren't usually there, due to all the rain. If Bigfoot wanted water, he wasn't going to have much of a problem finding some.
There was no point in testing the water. I knew it was drinkable. I looked around at the plant life, checking to see if anything had been torn, damaged, eaten. Most of it had, but in a forest filled with furry creatures, I couldn't reasonably blame it on Bigfoot. For all I knew, Miles had been down here chewing on plants.
I spotted a print---It was large, maybe a foot or so long, but it was in a grassy spot, smeared an indistinct. Could have been anything. Just to be thorough, I got my camera and tape measure out of my kit. Holding the tape measure beside the print for reference, I snapped three photos.
There was no point in making a plaster cast. The print could have been anything.
The forest was filled with water, but somehow, I was coming up dry.

We were sitting on the front porch. Michelle was on both the swing and her phone, and Paul had started out there, but was now chasing Miles around on the floor. Dad held a cigarette; my father had been smoking since he was fourteen, which I assume was back in the 1700s.
"So we have two options for dinner," Dad said to me. "I can go pick up subs, or I can go out and get hot dogs from Yocco's. You have a preference?"
"I could definitely eat either of those," I said. "Let's let Michelle be the deciding vote. Hey, Michelle! Subs, or Yocco's?"
My wife looked up. "Oooh, Yocco's!"
"There you have it," I said to Dad.
He nodded. "It's hunting season," he said. "After dinner, I might just go out and see about getting a deer with my crossbow."
"You have a crossbow now?"
"I'm getting a little too old for regular bow hunting. The crossbow is a lot easier."
"Well, let me know if you happen to see Bigfoot."
Dad laughed. "I'll call you."
"I saw a few deer tracks down in the woods today."
"Yeah, there's deer. Still a few bears running around. I see them occasionally. Saw one about a month ago. The dog tried to chase it."
"Jesus. Miles couldn't take down a bear."
"He'll never believe that. It paid him no attention; it just walked down into the woods, toward the creek."
"Left some prints in the mud?"
"Of course."
I nodded.
"Thanks, Dad," I said. "That answers a few things."

It was cool and breezy. I walked along the road near 873, wearing my jacket and smoking another cigar. I'd done this walk a million times as a teenager, sneaking out of the house by climbing out my bedroom window, crawling over the doghouse and onto a cement wall, and launching myself into the grass. It was how I slipped out without alerting my parents, who probably wouldn't have noticed if I'd never come back.
Up ahead, near the junction of 873 and Church Street, there was a girl.
She had light hair, and was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. She looked about nineteen. And, yes, she was hitchhiking. But she was very definitely alive.
She looked my way when I was about thirty feet away. "Don't suppose you're heading into town," she said.
I shook my head. "Sorry. I'm on foot, like you."
"Ah, damn. It's impossible to catch a ride this time of night."
"You do this often?"
"Mostly every night."
"You're my vanishing hitchhiker," I said.
Her eyes lit up. "Someone thought I was a Resurrection Mary? That's awesome!"
"You interested in the paranormal?"
"Hell, yes! I love the paranormal. I'm fascinated by it. Love your shirt! Bigfoot: World Hide And Seek Champion."
I smiled. "There's a convenience store right up the street. You want a cup of coffee?"

"So let me see if I got this straight," she said, sipping coffee. "You're a paranormal investigator. And a writer. You write about history and paranormal in the newspapers."
"And I work at a library," I said. "Part time."
We were sitting on the curb by 873, in the light of the convenience store, drinking our coffee.
"I wish I could get into something like that," she said. "I'm a journalism major at Lehigh Carbon Community College, in Schnecksville. I take some night classes, which is why I have to hitch back and forth. I usually ride into town and then jump out at a stoplight, which is where all the vanishing stories are coming from."
"I'm an LCCC graduate myself," I said. "My name is Lou, by the way."
"Casey."
We sat in companionable silence for a minute, drinking our coffee.
"So you're a journalism major," I said.
"Yeah."
"And you like the paranormal."
"Love it."
"Okay. First thing," I said,"Buy a bus pass, kid. You're gonna get yourself killed." I held out a twenty-dollar bill. "As I recall, this should keep you going for about a month. When that runs out, let me know, and I'll send you a check for more."
"Hey---No---I couldn't---"
"Yeah, you can," I said. "Consider this your first paycheck. Cause you're gonna work for me now."
She slowly reached out and took the money. "Doing what?"
"I live out in central Pennsylvania, but sometimes I need somebody on the ground here. I can't get back here as much as I'd like. If there's something that I need investigated in Slatington, I'll send you an e-mail, and you look into it. Get back to me with your conclusions. In return, I'll pay for your bus passes and help you get published in some good stuff around there---The Lehighton Times News, Morning Call, and maybe I can pull a few strings with the Lehigh Valley Tourism Region."
"That would be awesome."
I reached into my pocket, and gave her my survival kit. "This is yours now. You can add to it as you go; I'll get another one when I get home. This gives you everything you need to get out and do this kind of research. I'll train you by e-mail until you know what you're doing."
She looked it over. "This is cool. When can I start?"
"Right now. Your first assignment is to look into some of the Bigfoot sightings in the area," I said. "I'll send you the details. It looks like it's probably gonna be bears, but I want you to double-check me on that. I'm gonna be back for a visit in a month, and I'll sit down with you and talk it over then."
"Sounds great."
I held out my hand. "Partners?"
She shook it.
"Partners."

It was morning, the sun was shining, and my father was standing outside. He was watching my brother work on the roof of the new barn that he was building. Paul looked up hopefully at my dad.
"Grandpa? May I please have a tractor ride?"
Dad smiled. "Sure. Just let me get the keys."
A minute later, he was back with the big green John Deere. He started up the tractor, and I put Paul on his lap. I climbed up on the back of the tractor, hanging on, and Dad started to ride up the hill. Three generations riding on one tractor.
"Do you want to drive?" Dad asked.
Paul smiled. "Yeah!"
"Hold on....Put your hands here...."
It was like when I was a kid, and my grandfather had given us tractor rides. He'd had about fourteen grandchildren at the time, and had piled us all over his old Farmall---On the hood, the wheel covers, clinging everywhere. Safety wasn't invented, back in the seventies. It's amazing any of us lived.

We pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road. Paul was sitting in the back, already giving every indication that he was going to fall asleep. My wife glanced at me as I looked back at my childhood home.
"You find what you need?" she asked.
I nodded. "I've found enough."
As we made the turn onto Low Road, I was making some notes in my notebook. I turned the survival pen over in my hands and looked at it a little. I said,"Stop at the bottom of the hill, okay? I want to get photos of the Bigfoot cutouts."
She pulled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. I opened the door. Paul said,"What you doing, Daddy?"
"Just want to get a photo, little man."
I got out of the car and snapped a picture of the Bigfoot cutouts. The property owner was doing some yard work at his place across the street. He said,"I believe in that guy!"
"That's cool. I'm a fan," I said. "I wanted to get a picture."
"You go right ahead," he said. "Bigfoot hasn't come by yet, but I'm hoping to capture him."
As I was getting back in the car, I looked over my shoulder and smiled.
"I'm working on it."