Original story in http://www.bigfootencounters.com/stories/bowriter.htm
Courtesy Bobbie Short
A Story from a Bowhunter in B.C.
I wrote this almost 25 years ago. I have no idea how many times it has been published since then. I also have nothing more to add.
I make no observations regarding the following. It was as I have written. n August 23, 1960, I had been out on my own for six months, living by competing at rodeos. I was just 16. I had just finished a rodeo in Washington and had a couple hundred in my pocket. Three fellow hands asked me to go with them on a canoe trip in BC to get their winter meat. They were all BC natives.
They were Jim Palmantier, “Kid” Chatlain and Earl Condon. Jim and Kid were sons of French trappers and native mothers. Earl was a full-blood native. They had lots of equipment and knew the area to the north and east of Riske Creek. We would launch the freighter canoes, 20 ft long with 7.5 Evinrude kickers at a place near Horsely, east of Williams Lake and go north and east from there up a string of lakes and rivers.
We took two canoes with 35 gallons of spare gas, spare prop and 100 shear pins. We had a tent in each canoe, a rifle and shotgun, two fishing rods, one tackle box, bed rolls and grub box. We traveled light because we knew there would portages and since they were all Natives, could shoot anything as we went. (The word, 'portage' refers to the practice of carrying a canoe or other boat overland to avoid an obstacle on the water route such as rapids or a waterfall... )
We had 20 pounds flour, salt, pepper, tea, lard, pemmican, and tobacco to give to natives we encountered.
Some time, maybe 2 or 3 in the morning, Jim and I were awakened by a loud crash in the campsite. Thinking bear, we grabbed our guns and kicked back the tent flap. Nothing. Jim had a flashlight and he turned it on, Earl and Kid were now out of their tent and armed. A boulder about the size and shape of a bowling ball had destroyed our dutch oven and part of the cook box. We stood around trying to sort things out when a second boulder hit Kid and Earl’s tent dead center. It came straight down through the trees. I was standing there, open mouth when both Kid and Jim grabbed me and Earl and drug us deeper into the trees.
Naturally there was a lot of discussion but I won’t relate the tenor of that. We spent the rest of the short night in a circle, back to back, safeties off. From time to time we would hear more rocks hit and once, just once, some sort of strange hooting from the other side of the river.
After good sunup we slowly crept back to camp. One tent was toast as were the cook box and most of the cooking equipment. I counted nine rocks ranging in size from bowling ball to beach ball size. The largest weighted maybe 150-200 pounds.
Fortunately the canoes were undamaged and we quickly pulled up camp and started out. We got to the meat cache that morning and it was gone. Not destroyed, -gone. Totally, 100% gone. No logs, no rope, no meat. No carcass. I have no opinion.
We ran wide open going out and “camped” that night in the canoes in the middle of a lake.
Jim and Kid are now dead, Killed in a float plane crash some years ago. Earl, I don’t know about. I am certain of only five things regarding that trip:
1-Those rocks were not on the bank where we pitched camp when we pitched camp.
2-They were not carried into our camp, they were thrown.
3-No human being did it.
4-I have no desire to ever again go into that country.
5-I am not a believer or a skeptic. But I don’t exactly discount much if which I don’t understand.
As to the lack of scientific evidence. It is just in recent times we have learned that cacausoids lived in North America as long as 12,000 years ago. If our ancestors had not lived in villages with middens, had they roamed in groups of two or three, we might still not know about Clovis Woman or many of them. (The word 'midden' refers to a very old refuse heaps that contain discarded materials, food remains, bones, etc. Midden is an old English word for a household rubbish dump...)
Try and throw a 150-pound boulder across a 50-foot stream. I saw it done. I don’t know what did it.
Story is from the Bowsite written by "Bowriter"
June 21, 2008