Cliff Barackman from Animal Planets Finding Bigfoot emailed us about a new Yowie sighting that he had received and with his permission we are posting the sighting to our site. Via Cliff Barackman
Year of Encounter
Month of Encounter
Time of Encounter
Region of Encounter
Mt Wilson, Blue Mountains, outside Sydney
follow instructions to get to the upper Wallangambe creek
I have had maybe 4-5 cryptid encounters in Australia and the USA over the years 1990 to 1993. At the time, the events were just weird bush happenings, and it was not until I read of the experiences of others that in hindsight, I believe I may have seen archaic humans. I was doing my PhD in Sydney in the early 1990s and then came to the US to do a postdoc. At the time, I was very into bush sports, and delighted in visiting places that almost no-one would ever go. All the Australian encounters happened in remote creek canyons in the Blue Mountains outside Sydney. In the US, one encounter happened in the north part of Myakka Park in FL and the other in the NE part of the Adirondak Mtns in upstate NY.
For all of the Australian encounters, I was engaging in a sport called 'canyoning' which involves hiking to a canyon, rappelling in at one end, navigating the canyon/creek as it cut through sandstone cliffs, and then climbing out somewhere downstream. For all of the US encounters, I was hiking, usually by coming into a park from a little-used entryway.
As I mentioned, in hindsight, I had ~5 encounters, so I will see how much time I have this morning to type. I will start with the encounter at Wollangambe, which is a hard-core wet canyon in the Mt WIlson area of the Blue Mtns. People visit the lower reaches all the time, where it meets Bells Creek, but the upper reaches are rugged and the guy who told me about it said the upper canyon would be lucky to get 1 visitor in 10 years. So I packed up three of my friends and we did the upper Wollangambe, needing ropes, wetsuit and lots of stamina. At the spot where we had to drop the car, we were the only vehicle. The road ended there.
We walked maybe two miles into regular bush before reaching the canyon entry point, and along the way, I recall we came across a trash heap. There was literally a kitchen sink, a hose, a car tire, some children's toys and other stuff. My friend made a comment about disgusting humans dumping in the pristine bush, and then I asked "how did a truck load get here? There is no road." I remember clearly saying to my friends "Look, we are nowhere near the base of a cliff, so this could not have been dumped from a roadside above us. Why would someone come here to dump?"
Anyhow, we moved on, and eventually found the canyon entry point. My informant was right about the canyon being rugged. We needed ropes every 100 meters.
We were not long into the canyon when we heard voices in front of us. At first, we gave them a "coo-ee" but then I remarked to my friends how surprising it was to have other people here.. I remember wondering where they parked. Then we noticed that the language coming around the corner was not English. To my ears, it sounded like Hindi. Several people, with high pitched voices like children or young women. I assumed it was a tourist party led by an experienced local guide.
As we proceeded through the cathedrals, the other people were always just ahead of us, and we never caught up. The voices became increasingly hysterical and angry. I interpreted the voices saying "This is our place. You have your own places. Go away. This is our place. You do not belong here." My friend Danielle obviously had the same conclusion because she shouted back "We have just as much right to be here as you. This is a national park."
Anyhow, the voices got more and more desperate as we proceeded. Sometimes we would here a loud 'dunk!' as if someone jumped from a waterfall instead of roping. At one point, the voices got very fearful. I was the last person in our party to go down the rope on that section, which meant, I had to retrieve it and was then the last to join the party at the next waterfall.
As I joined them, over to the left hand side ignored by my friends, there were 2 or 3 lumps quite unlike the rounded rocks that littered the canyon floor. I said "What the hell are these?" walking up to them. They looked like balls of hair, covered in sand and a few plants seeming plucked from the scant growth in the cliff walls. There is a Charlie Chaplin sequence where he escape capture by putting a lamp shade on his head. This is just like that. Hairy lumps trying to hide under sand and a few blades of fern.
My friend said "it is some dead animal, let's keep going."
"Yes, but what kind of dead animal?" I said. Being a scientist, I believe every unknown thing deserves a good poke, and these lumps were unlike any Australian animal. Apart from wombats and kangaroos, we do not have a lot of other options, and they sure were not emus. The hair was long 8-10cm (3-4inches), with an auburn tinge completely unlike a red kangaroo. There were at least 2 maybe 3 of the lumps. They were ~1m high, maybe a little smaller.
Anyhow, I did not poke, even though I was inches from them. I turned and went down the net waterfall.
After we all descended, we heard voices behind us, but they were not anxious, they were taunting and loudly laughing at us. Again, it was in a strange language. I remember saying to my friends how odd it was to have two other parties of canyoners from other countries in the same canyon, and a supposedly remote one where we were assured we would feel like explorers.
The day ultimately ended, and we, exhausted, made it back to the car. I remarked that our car was still the only one at the road end, and there were no other tire tracks.
That is the end of this story, but another time in another canyon, also supposedly remote, we found fresh footprints, barefoot, fairly small, and our trip was punctuated by bipedal running and splashing sounds ahead of us. In another canyon, of a more vertical rather than slot nature, a human voice right behind me got disappointed when we did not leave the remains of our lunch. Aaw! "What was that?" my friend asked. "A bird? What else could it be?"
It makes perfect sense for these cryptids to live in the canyons, because that is where the water is, Australia's scarcest resource. And also shelter. I have heard others say Australia might have two different kinds of yowies, and if so, we saw the smaller ones. Alternatively, they may have been juveniles.
In the US, I had perhaps two encounters. In the Adirondacks, I think my hiking buddy and I stumbled upon a lair. There was dead deer, killed by neither bullet nor fangs, strung 8ft up in a tree. There were hunting hides made from branches (in a national park, where hunting is banned). There was also an enormous upside-down tree, made 10m (30ft) high, with a sturdy trunk, completely upside down with roots in the air. I remember asking my hiking buddy what could possible do that. Later that night, at camp, I think we had rocks thrown at us. Never saw them, though.
In Florida. I hiked into the Myakka park in the first week of January 1993 from the northern end, where supposedly no-one ever enters from, even in Summer. After a few hours, we came across a clearing where all the trees were twisted and broken. "A tornado must have struck down here," I said.
But then I noticed that it was not ALL the trees, only the palmetto palms. And the twisted trees did not fit a swirl pattern. The area was about 2-3 times the size of a suburban block. Then I saw a body, up against a tree to the right hand side. There was blood on the tree and on the ground and on the fur of the creature. It was large, a bit smaller than a cow, with its back turned to us, facing the tree. The hair was bright auburn, 3-4inches long, exactly like an orangutan.
We thought it was creepy, but kept walking. 15mins later, we came to another area just like the first. This time, the body was right next to the path on the left hand side, partly submerged in the swampy mud. "What is this?" I asked.
My hiking buddy was not a scientist and did not have my instinct to poke things, so he shrugged with "Some kind of deer." I could see clearly it was not a deer. No long legs, no long neck. It looked like the shoulder, back and rump of a primate to me, with the face pushed into the mud.
The deaths seemed to be fresh, with no corpse bloating, and no smell beyond the swamp itself. The blood on the first body was bright red and not completely dried. The next day, on the way back, the bodies were still there, but we did not stop.