Kidnapped
By Bigfoot?
The
Albert Ostman Abduction
By TCC Team Member
Dorraine Fisher
 |
| Albert Ostman in 1977 |
There
are very few stories of humans being abducted by sasquatches, but the Albert
Ostman story is probably the most famous. And his detailed descriptions of the
creatures’ behavior still ring true to this day.
Ostman
claimed to have never heard of sasquatches when he entered the Toba Inlet near
Lund, British Columbia as a prospector in 1924. An old Indian that served as
his guide explained about these hairy “people” that lived in the forests there.
Ostman
didn’t believe the myths told by the natives and he dismissed the stories. But
the guide still insisted these “people” were very real and still lived in the
area, as Ostman would learn soon enough.
He
and the guide arrived at the inlet mouth late one afternoon and made camp. The
guide had supper with him and they made arrangements for him to return for
Ostman in the same spot in three weeks time.
Ostman
hiked the area northeast of his location, did some hunting, and prospected for
several days before he found a spot for his permanent camp about ten miles in
that direction. He built a permanent fireplace for cooking, and he made himself
a permanent bed to sleep in. He claimed he was a very heavy sleeper if he could
get comfortable, and his new bed proved to be comfortable enough.
He
awoke the following morning to find his things had been moved around, but
nothing was missing. The following night, he loaded his rifle and slipped it
under the edge of his sleeping bag.
The
next morning he awoke to find his pack, that had been hanging on a pole, had
been emptied and turned upside down. And some food items were missing, but
nothing was torn apart, so he didn’t suspect a bear. He checked the area for
tracks but found none, and he climbed up on a big rock with his rifle where he
could watch the camp for a while, but nothing showed up there.
The
next night he made special preparations and planned to stay up all night to see
if he could see the visitor, but he said he must have fallen asleep.
He
awakened to something picking him up, and it took him a moment to wake up and
realize what was happening. He was still in his sleeping bag. He then felt like
he was being “tossed on horseback” but could feel that whatever was carrying
him was walking.
This
is where Ostman’s account gives some striking details about being carried. He
wanted to get to his knife, but it was positioned in such a way underneath him
and he couldn’t get to it. He claims he had a firm grip on his rifle the whole
time that had been inside the bag.
“I
could feel myself rise for every step,” he later told author John Green. “What
was carrying me was breathing hard and sometimes gave a slight cough. Now, I
knew this must be one of the mountain Sasquatch giants the Indian told me
about.”
He
had slipped his boots inside his sleeping bag before he went to sleep in order
to protect them. And he said he could feel the hobnail from one of the soles
cutting into his foot while the creature was carrying him. “It hurt me
terribly, but I could not move,” he explained.
And
he described the discomfort inside the sleeping bag. “It was very hot inside.
It was lucky for me this fellow's hand was not big enough to close up the whole
bag when he picked me up — there was a small opening at the top, otherwise I
would have choked to death.”
He
guessed the whole uncomfortable trip to be about three hours long. When the
creature finally put him down, it was still dark. And as he sat up and tried to
get his circulation back, he could hear them “talking” to each other and he
described what was happening:
“I
could hear now it was at least four of them, they were standing around me, and
continuously chattering. I had never heard of Sasquatch before the Indian told
me about them. But I knew I was right among them.”
But
what he didn’t know was how he would get away from them.
He
finally found the strength to stand up as the figures of them were becoming
clearer as the sun rose higher in the sky.
“What
you fellas want with me?” he asked them, only to be answered by more chatter.
As
it got lighter outside, he could see them clearly, describing them as people,
completely covered with hair and no clothes. His account was of a family of
four, what he described as an “old man,” “old woman,” and two young ones he
described as a boy and girl who seemed afraid of him.
As
he watched them chattering, he got the impression that the female was not too
thrilled about what the male had dragged home. “The old man was waving his arms
and telling them all what he had in mind,” Ostman said.
And
then they left him for a while to check his pack the creature had carried from
his camp along with him, and to figure out where he was. He went through his things and went about the
business of getting food and water while the creatures watched him curiously
from nearby. And on his way back, he could see where the family had been
sleeping.
“On
the east side wall of this valley was a shelf in the mountain side, with
overhanging rock, looking something like a big undercut in a big tree about 10
feet deep and 30 feet wide. The floor was covered with lots of dry moss, and
they had some kind of blankets woven of narrow strips of cedar bark, packed
with dry moss. They looked very practical and warm — with no need of washing.”
The
young male was becoming more curious and getting closer to him, so Ostman gave
him his snuff box which he played with for quite a while, showing it to the
others. But other than that, the first day with them was uneventful.
The
next morning, Ostman was determined to leave and he packed his pack, rolled his
sleeping bag, and injected the shells into the barrel of his rifle. He
attempted to walk out of the area, but was forced back by the old male. Ostman
said, “I pointed to the opening. I wanted to go out. But he stood there pushing
towards me — and said something that sounded like "Soka, soka."
Ostman,
afraid that his 30-30 rifle wouldn’t have much impact on the large male,
decided to pull back and wait it out.
The
two young ones had been curious about him and he thought if he could make
friends with them, they might help him. He gave the young male another snuff
box with some snuff left in it. Ostman thought maybe the “boy” would give some
to the older male.
The
next day, the female came back with food, and Ostman made dippers out of a
couple of his food cans and gave them to the young ones to play with. When he
showed the young male how to dip it in water, he seemed pleased, almost
smiling. Then Ostman took a bite of his snuff, smacked his lips and said,
“That’s good!”
He
tried to get the older male to come to him. He thought if he could get him to
eat some snuff it would most certainly kill him. And Ostman, since he now saw
these creatures as people, could reason it out in his mind that this wasn’t
murder since the old male ate it on his own. And the creature kept coming
closer and closer to him every day.
One
morning, after Ostman built a fire and made himself some breakfast, the male
came within ten feet of him and sat down. Ostman pulled out his snuff box to
take a pinch only to have the “old man”
snatch it out of his hand. And to his surprise, he emptied the entire
box into his mouth and swallowed.
Not
long afterward, his eyes began to roll back in his head. Ostman described the
scene. “I could see he was sick. Then he
grabbed my coffee can that was quite cold by this time, he emptied that in his
mouth, grounds and all. That did no good. He stuck his head between his legs
and rolled forwards a few times away from me. Then he began to squeal like a
stuck pig. I grabbed my rifle.”
The
“old man” ran to find water. Seeing his only chance to escape, Ostman packed up
what things he could quickly collect. The young male ran over to his mother who
had also begun squealing. Ostman made a run for it, but the old female was
right behind him. He turned and shot his rifle over her head and kept running
toward the hills.
“Must
have made three miles in some world record time,” Ostman said. “I came to a
turn in the canyon and I had the sun on my left, that meant I was going south,
and the canyon turned west. I decided to climb the ridge ahead of me. I knew
that I must have two mountain ridges between me and salt water and by climbing
this ridge I would have a good view of this canyon, so I could see if the
Sasquatch were coming after me. I had a light pack and was making good time up
this hill. I stopped soon after to look back to where I came from, but nobody
followed me. As I came over the ridge I could see Mt. Baker, then I knew I was
going in the right direction.”
Ostman,
tired and sick after traveling quite a way, eventually came across a loggers’
camp at Sechelt Inlet where he stayed until the next morning. He caught a boat
from there to Vancouver.
He had told the loggers he was a
prospector and got lost. He said nothing about the sasquatches for fear they’d
think he was crazy.
He also told John
Green this was to be his last prospecting trip. *******DF
[source:Bigfoot Encounters]
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