Scott White's data
Scott E White's encounter

Scott White is an American, and a member of the International Bigfoot Society, who lives in France. He allowed me to publish here his interviews of witnesses, and his own sighting. Thanks to him.

Interview with Barbara J - Interview with Mike G - Train hits Sasquatch

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1989 It was the beginning of spring in Oregon, and I was fed up with work, and I was fed up with the winter. The only thing I wanted to do was to go out and explore. The boss was OK with my request of two weeks off, but not yet : I must wait another three weeks before I could leave. Several days before my big day, I had prepared everything I would need for two weeks in the forest, as well as a friend ready to take me far into the forest by four wheel drive, right after work. My friend Richard worked with me at the time, the same hours and he had a four wheel drive that he was not worried about scratching while roaming narrow mountain roads.

At last my big day arrived, and so we both left work about ten o'clock in the evening, with my belongings which were already in the truck, but there was a problem, a terrible storm, with a lot of rain and wind. But I told Richard that I only had two weeks of vacation, and I had no intention of waiting for the end of the storm. So we must go. We arrived to our destination about two o'clock in the morning, the storm was now even worse, and Richard was a bit worried, as I did not want to make a rendez-vous, as I had no idea where I would be coming out, (I was prepared to hitch hike when I leave the forest in two weeks). I then thanked him, said good-by, and he left.

I walked for about five minutes, when suddenly the light bulb in my flashlight went out, and I could not continue in the dark. I spent the rest of the night huddled up in my poncho, in the storm, doing all that I could to keep dry. At first light of day, I left in search of a shelter to protect myself from the wind and rain. I found a nice spot and then put up my tarp and hammock, then fell fast asleep. I slept for a long time as I had not slept through the night. I later woke up to see the tarp flapping in the wind, and it startled me as I had forgotten where I was for a moment. After I returned to my senses, I analyzed my situation, and I could do nothing for the moment as it could be dangerous to get wet in the cold. So I read my book and then wrote in my notebook all that had happened up till then.

The next afternoon, the storm calmed and I hiked deeper into the forest in search of a better camp, and before the sun went down, I found the perfect place, where I could see long in the distance, so I installed my new camp. I spent two days there, watching the animals like deer, porcupines, birds, and many other critters. I had changed camp sites several times, but failed to find anything of great interest. So after a while I decided to go home and party with my friends. As I was about to leave, I spent the afternoon shooting my gun (it was a 44 magnum).

Latter that evening, I thought that if I left now, I could hike close to the highway and make camp before nightfall. So I collected my supplies and left to the north. Just before it started to get dark, I fell upon the first house, with its owner in front, gardening. I yelled to him: "excuse me, but how far is it to the highway?" He said that it was only a few miles, but if I could wait about an hour, he could drive me there, as he was planning to go to town to go shopping. I accepted his invitation happily.

I met his family and we spoke of many things about the animals of this region. He was also passionate about nature. When I spoke about bigfoot, which are the rare wild men of this area, he told me that there is a part of the forest where he often had the impression that someone was watching him, and it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Now he no longer goes there. I said that I would like to go there if he could show me where it is on a map. He said that he could do better than that, he could take me there in his pick-up, and we could go that very evening. His family invited me to stay for dinner before leaving. So we went to do the shopping, and I restocked my supplies for another week in the forest. After dinner, we drank and smoked a lot until around midnight. I had given him my bolo (kind of machetti) with a sheath I made myself, as he liked knives and it was just too much weight for me to pack around, then we left in his pick-up. The trip took about an hour and a half before arriving at the spot where he wanted to let me off. He said that there was a little river just to the south of here. So we drank another beer, and we said good by. I set up my tarp and then slept soundly all night long, as we had drank quite a bit that evening. The next morning I woke up with a bit of a hangover, and I saw no river where he said there would be one and the direction for which he said was "North" was, in fact, "South." I realized that I was a little lost, but I was not at all worried, as I had plenty of food for one week and I was in no rush. I ate my breakfast and then looked at my map to see if I could figure out where I was, and I then confirmed that I was lost. It was still early when I started hiking towards the north on an old logging road, with my backpack loaded heavily with supplies. After almost half an hour, I began to feel like he had told me, as if there was someone there! It gave me goose pimples. Immediately after, I saw something that was about to change my life : there were the footprints like those of a man, yet bigger than any man I know, and there were a lot of them. When I closely inspected these prints, I saw that there were three different sizes: the largest were about forty centimeters long, the second set were just a little smaller, and the third set were a little less than twenty centimeters. I was completely beside myself, and I couldn't believe my eyes. But they were there, and very clear. It was like a dream come true ; real "bigfoot" footprints. Then I closely inspected the prints, as one can get a lot of information from prints with a little experience, and I have had some experience here. I found that all three had traveled to the north and back twice, the last passing was to the south, and they had just passed less than an hour ago, as the grass in the last prints were still popping back into position. I didn't know what to do; if I were to follow these prints in the direction where they had just gone, then this might scare them, and besides I was a little scared to do this myself. If I just left, then I could end up missing an incredible opportunity. Finally I decided to follow the prints in the opposite direction from where they last went, and find a place to hide and watch, just in case they come back through a third time. I followed these prints for about three kilometers when I found the perfect place, and began to build a small blind, no more than twenty five meters from the trail, where I could hide. I spent the rest of the day building this blind which I named "the hobbit," then prepared for their possible return. When I made this blind, I had cut my finger to the bone with my saw and as such an injury can easily become seriously infected in the forest, I had stopped the project, and sat down with my medical kit to take care of my finger. After bandaging my finger, I continued. I had finished long before sun set, and sat in silence for more than four hours, as the sun set, leaving the forest dark to the point that I could hardly see a thing. There was nothing but the sound of nocturnal birds, small mammals such as mice, and deer from time to time. The time passed, and just when I thought it was without hope, and they would not come back; in the distance I could hear a sound coming from the direction of the trail. I heard the sound of something walking in the forest, and as the sound approached it was more and more evident that it was three individuals walking on two legs. Now I was not as happy as I thought I would be ; I was scared! As they approached closer I began to think that it may have been better if I had missed this incredible opportunity! As they got closer, I got more and more scared. I had goose pimples, and kept one hand on my gun. Then they arrived less than twenty five meters, exactly where I was prepared to see them; I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't move, and I could hardly breath. The three of them stayed right there for a very long moment. It may have been only five minutes, but if it was only five minutes, then it was the longest five minutes of my life. After this long moment, two went on to the north on the trail, and one stayed there all night long. I could not possibly fall asleep that night, but after one or two hours I began to be less scared, and I just sat there with my gun in my hand, listening to his breathing and various other little noises that he made from time to time throughout the night. He made some sounds that appeared quite articulate, yet deeper than one could normally produce: he cleared his throat from time to time, but he did not move from the place where he was sitting. By the end of this long night I was no longer scared, yet I wasn't ready to let go of my gun. I wanted to see him. I thought that the morning light would never come. At last the other two came and the three of them left to the south. Almost half an hour passed before it started to get light, and when the forest became light enough to see well, I went to see where he was sitting during the night. There, where I had heard him breathing, there was a giant butt print, as well as the prints of the others, confirming the events of which I had heard. And right in front of this butt print were a multitude of leaves and twigs, broken into little bits, as if he simply had nothing else to do. I was amazed by this experience, but I was wiped out by having spent the night under such emotional stress. So I fell asleep for the rest of the day. The next night, nothing happened, so I slept, but not too sound. You could say that I slept with one eye open. In the morning I followed their foot prints in the other direction, for the whole morning and the beginning of the afternoon, until I found a shelter they had made. It was nothing but a little clearing of about four square meters, in the bushes, with branches placed strategically around them. There was also a small dirt mound, with fine gravel sprinkled on the surface. I dug up the mound to see if there was something inside, but there was nothing. I still had several days left of vacation, but I wanted so much to tell my friends what had happened, that I started for home. I followed the first old logging road down to a gravel road, then passed the first habitations, which were farms. Before the sun went down, I had made it to a main road where I hitch hiked for about one hundred kilometers to where I lived. After this experience, I dove into the "bigfoot" research. I joined a group of others who were also studying the same subject. I had investigated sightings, and went looking, every moment possible, for more signs in the deepest parts of the forests, for more than eight years. Three years after this experience, I had talked to another who had also found a bigfoot shelter by following the prints, and found a similar mound with fine gravel on the surface, and he thought that it was a kind of pillow. In remembering the position of the one I had found, it was very possible. About five years later, a young woman looked me up to tell me about her personal experience. She had never seen a bigfoot, but when she was little, she would often go to visit her grandparents, who lived on a farm next to a big forest. Her grandfather would always guard her with his rifle, each time she would go outside, because the bigfoot come down to steal his animals from time to time; he had seen them. She told me that her grandfather was a very serious and intelligent man, and she was completely convinced that he was telling the truth. I asked her if she could show me on my map exactly where this farm is, and it was one of the first farms bordering the forest where I had first found the prints. I told her that I believe her grandfather too, in fact I think I had personally met his thieves. Then I told her all about what had happened to me in that forest, in the spring of 1989.

Scott White