Published October 31, 2026 03:05AM<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
The forest sounds empty, but I know it\u2019s not. Earlier today, I\u2019d walked along the lakeshore and seen hoof prints, a cougar track, and coyote scat.<\/p>\n
The trees have all turned black beneath the night sky. The only light comes from the full moon creeping through clouds. I\u2019m deep in Washington\u2019s Gifford National Forest and it\u2019s so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat.<\/p>\n
No creature is giving its location away by making noise\u2014but we certainly aren\u2019t alone as we stand on the edge of a lake, its waters as dark as midnight. I look at the shadows between trees and wonder what\u2019s hiding in the forest.<\/p>\n Beside me, Tanner Hoskins raises a thermal scope to his eye and scans the trees to look for heat signatures. He pauses as he sweeps to the far corner of the lake.<\/p>\n \u201cI think I\u2019ve got something moving,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n For the last six years, Hoskins and a group of friends have been searching the Pacific Northwest\u2019s wilderness for an answer to that very question: What else is out there?\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n And I\u2019m tagging along for a weekend to see what happens when I go looking for evidence of the unknown.<\/p>\n About two miles away, as the crow flies, a dispersed campsite is tucked into a grove of pine trees.<\/p>\n On a July night in 2020, decades-long buddies Kelly Stolp and Mike Palagi sat around a fire with Stolp\u2019s sons and Palagi\u2019s fianc\u00e9e. Flames licked the black sky as they laughed into the night. It was a familiar scene for the friends, who met in the Army in 2005.<\/p>\n Stolp retired to his tent while the fire was still crackling. Deep in the night, he heard a loud, guttural howl\u2014it sounded like a car engine trying to turn over. Then, footsteps. Slow and steady, getting closer to his tent. They seemed too loud to be human. More stomp than step. He could feel each footfall hit the earth. But he knew, without a hair of doubt, they were coming from a two-legged creature.<\/p>\n Stolp grew up on a 35,000-acre ranch in Montana. He\u2019s hunted for decades and recreated outside since he could walk. He went on his first backpacking trip at the age of 12. He\u2019s an avid outdoorsman and familiar with all of the wildlife that roams the West. A grizzly bear once came into his camp. But in that moment, he knew he wasn\u2019t hearing a bear, nor a cougar, elk, or coyote.<\/p>\n Stolp listened as the creature approached his tent, brushing up against the huckleberries just feet away. It was only 50 degrees, but he was covered in sweat. Then, he heard the footsteps disappearing up the dry creekbed that winds past the campsite.<\/p>\n The next morning, he told Palagi, \u201cSomething came through camp last night.\u201d It was large and two-legged, he went on. Palagi laughed, said he didn\u2019t hear anything, and pointed at the empty bottle of whiskey as an explanation. Stolp dropped the topic for the rest of the day.<\/p>\n But at 3 A.M. that night, Stolp heard the footsteps again. Thump. Thump. Thump. <\/i>The same guttural howl was now coming from two different spots.<\/p>\n He sat up and said, \u201cMike. It\u2019s back.\u201d<\/p>\n He heard a gun racking, then: \u201cKelly, I\u2019m up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwo legs or four?\u201d<\/p>\n Palagi didn\u2019t hesitate: \u201cBipedal, man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow big?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally fucking big.\u201d<\/p>\n They rolled out of their tents. Stolp shouted, \u201cWe\u2019re armed, show yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n Palagi and Stolp both trained as military snipers and knew how to clear a space. They moved through camp, weapons ready. They found nothing, but the two men, who don\u2019t scare easily, passed the rest of the night in their cars.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve spent my entire life outdoors and encountered everything the wilderness has to offer,\u201d said Stolp. \u201cBut I\u2019d never slept in my truck, not even when a grizzly came through my camp.\u201d<\/p>\n They tried to recreate the stomping sound in the morning. They were not small men. Palagi played football in Montana as a defensive lineman, and Stolp looks like he could have been on a team, too. But even when Palagi jumped with his full body weight, he couldn\u2019t come close to what they\u2019d heard.<\/p>\n Stolp headed to the Shriners Children\u2019s Hospital in Portland the next Monday, where he worked as an electrician alongside Palagi, a maintenance engineer. He pulled his coworker, a security guard named Hoskins, aside.<\/p>\n \u201cBut you have to promise you won\u2019t tell anyone,\u201d he told Hoskins. He knew how ridiculous the story sounded. He didn\u2019t want anyone to think he believed in Bigfoot.<\/p>\n But Hoskins was more of a believer. While he was growing up, his great-grandmother had warned him about \u201chidebehinds,\u201d a large, mysterious creature that was blamed for the disappearance of loggers in Idaho. Stolp\u2019s story, when added to ones told by his great-grandmother, made him wonder if the Pacific Northwest was home to similar creatures. Hoskins swore he wouldn\u2019t say a thing. Then he went home and built a website for the Pacific Northwest Bigfoot Search, telling anyone who found it about his friend\u2019s story\u2014and inviting others to share their own.<\/p>\n Tales of large, mysterious, forest-dwelling creatures have swirled around the world for centuries. Bigfoot\u2019s other most-used moniker, Sasquatch, is an anglicized version of \u201cSasq\u2019ets\u201d, a word from the Coast Salish People, a tribe that lives in British Columbia. Versions of this mythical being, which goes by many different Indigenous names, have traveled across generations of stories, as both a large, hairy animal and a spiritual guide.<\/p>\n Today, Bigfoot has grown into something else entirely\u2014as has the hunt to prove Bigfoot exists. Its likeness has been slapped on stickers, shirts, and road crossing signs. The Bigfoot subreddit boasts nearly 300,000 members. There are Bigfoot podcasts, conferences, symposiums, and a seven-night Bigfoot cruise that features daily lectures with Bigfoot researchers. Animal Planet released 11 seasons of the popular show Finding Bigfoot,<\/i> and the Travel Channel has aired 59 episodes (and counting) of the docuseries Expedition Bigfoot<\/i>.<\/p>\n There\u2019s no question that Bigfoot has captured the imagination of many, but whether Bigfoot has any foothold in reality remains a mystery.<\/p>\n There are thousands of reports alleging Bigfoot\u2019s existence; most of them focus on one creature, though the common belief within the Bigfoot community is that Bigfoot encompasses an entire species, like wolves, bears, or cougars. The Bigfoot Field Research Organization has collected more than 5,000 sightings through its online database. Washington state leads the charge, with over 700 reports. For decades, people have circulated grainy photographs, videos, and stories. But if Bigfoot is real, he (or she) remains elusive and incredibly camera-shy.<\/p>\n Bigfoot hunters, like Hoskins and crew, want science to back them up. \u201cScience wants a body\u201d is a common refrain in Sasquatch circles. Most aren\u2019t actually rooting for the death of Bigfoot, but if he happened to peacefully pass away in an easily findable location, that would really help them out.<\/p>\n Bigfoot hunters might be lacking scientific proof, but they do have some trained scientists on their side, including tenured professors like the late anthropologists Grover Krantz and Jeffrey Meldrum, who both spent years researching the creature. Even Jane Goodall said she was open-minded about the existence of Bigfoot, and believed some of the stories she heard, adding that it was compelling that every continent has stories about a Bigfoot-type creature.<\/p>\n When Hoskins launched the website for the Pacific Northwest Bigfoot Search, he invited people to submit tales of their own encounters. He shared the site widely through social media channels and online Bigfoot groups, as well as in more general outdoors, fishing, and hunting forums. He also used geotags on Instagram during the group\u2019s early searches, which generated some of the first reports from people who\u2019d experienced supposed encounters near the same areas.<\/p>\n Since 2021, Hoskins and the rest of the Pacific Northwest Bigfoot Search have received 287 reports via the website and social media, covering everything from footprints and vocalizations to alleged sightings. \u201cYou have to take a lot of them with a grain of salt,\u201d he told me. But he finds some reports compelling, especially the ones from people who want to remain anonymous, like loggers, law enforcement, and government employees.<\/p>\n The Pacific Northwest Bigfoot Search has grown beyond solely an online database. The crew has headed out regularly, every month or two for the last five years, looking for evidence of unknown, large, bipedal creatures across the Pacific Northwest. The four men behind the Pacific Northwest Bigfoot Search include Hoskins, Stolp, and Palagi, who all once worked at Shriners together, along with Alberto Quinones, a warehouse manager who married Hoskins\u2019 cousin. They\u2019ve all become best friends, Hoskins says.<\/p>\n At 30 years old, Quinones, who usually sports a black hoodie and mustache, is the youngest of the group. Stolp, 48, is the oldest and a father of two, who commutes to Texas where he manages a multibillion-dollar construction project. He\u2019s been out of the Army for over a decade, but his haircut could probably still pass a military inspection. His Army buddy, Palagi, likes to challenge his friends to cook-offs and lives with his three cats and dog at his home outside Portland. And Hoskins, also a father of two, is the de facto leader. He doesn\u2019t relax until everyone\u2019s made it to camp and always requests texts to make sure everyone got home safe after a trip. He likes to say that he \u201clooks like a cop,\u201d though he was denied a career in law enforcement because of severe scoliosis and an amputated right leg.<\/p>\n The four men don\u2019t seem like typical Bigfoot hunters. For starters, half of them don\u2019t think Bigfoot is real. Palagi calls himself the greatest skeptic of the group, saying, \u201cI\u2019ll drill holes in their theories all day long.\u201d And Stolp is quick to clarify that he \u201cdoesn\u2019t believe in that shit.\u201d As for that camping trip in 2020, Palagi has an explanation: \u201cA deer pouncing with both legs.\u201d<\/p>\n And the loud, guttural howl: \u201cA territorial bullfrog on the deer\u2019s back.\u201d<\/p>\n Even Hoskins, who spearheaded the formation of their Bigfoot search, says he\u2019s only at 80 percent on the Bigfoot-believometer until he sees one for himself.<\/p>\n A washout pitches my car sideways at a precarious angle. A tunnel of overgrown bushes and trees scratches at my van. The rutted old logging road I\u2019m following, full of creek crossings and potholes, turns my drive into a carnival ride. Hoskins warned me I\u2019d need the right rig to get into camp to join the crew for a two-night Bigfoot search. I\u2019m driving my 2011 Toyota Sienna, to which, Hoskins tells me, \u201cI\u2019ve never seen a minivan on that road.\u201d But it\u2019s all-wheel drive and equipped with an aftermarket lift kit and beefier tires for extra clearance. So far, it\u2019s getting the job done, even if my heart rate is accelerating with every ditch I have to drive over. I wonder if this will be the scariest part of the weekend.<\/p>\n As I drive farther into the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, the trees seem to grow taller and thicker as the road narrows. I\u2019m 47 miles from the nearest gas station, and each washout feels like a \u201cdo not enter\u201d sign. I can\u2019t help thinking that this densely wooded forest in the shadow of Mount Adams is where I\u2019d come if I never wanted to be found.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not a Bigfoot believer. But I\u2019m curious about some of the stories I\u2019ve heard that don\u2019t have an easy explanation. Like, what exactly stomped through the guys\u2019 campsite in 2020, howling like no creature they\u2019d ever met.<\/p>\n The 1.3-million-acre Gifford Pinchot, where I\u2019m meeting Hoskins and crew, is a hotbed for Bigfoot reports. It\u2019s home to the aptly named Ape Canyon, where gold prospectors allegedly encountered seven-foot apelike animals in 1924. There\u2019s also Skookum Meadows, where scientists found a body imprint left in the mud in 2000 that they attributed to an \u201cunknown primate\u201d because they couldn\u2019t connect it to any animal. There were so many Bigfoot reports around here in the 1960s that Skamania County passed an ordinance to protect Bigfoot from harm, punishable by jail time or a hefty fine, which still stands today. The original ordinance acknowledged the increasing volume of \u201cwell-armed\u201d Bigfoot hunters and expressed concern that said firearms could threaten both Bigfoot and humans traveling through the area.<\/p>\n Finally, the narrow road opens to a small clearing in the trees, where two vehicles are parked a stone\u2019s throw from a fire ring. Hoskins and Quinones are tossing wood onto a campfire. The ground is damp from 24 hours of rain. This summer\u2019s fire ban has been lifted, and the group is taking full advantage.<\/p>\n At five-foot-two, Hoskins is about a foot shorter than Quinones. His work pants hang loose over his prosthetic leg, and he holds a walking stick in his left arm. He moves around the campsite with confident steps as he grabs his chainsaw and returns to the pile of firewood.<\/p>\n I walk over and see that a folding table is covered with their go-to supplies for Bigfoot hunts: thermal scopes, drones, casting materials, trail cameras, and audio recorders.<\/p>\n Hoskins has a handgun on his hip. Quinones has a shotgun in his car. They\u2019re always armed, says Hoskins, though more for humans than Bigfoot. He mentions the Green River Killer, who murdered 49 women in the Pacific Northwest in the eighties and nineties, and left some of the bodies in the forests, which were later found by hikers.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not unusual for campers to be armed in the woods this time of year. It\u2019s hunting season in Washington. I\u2019ve got a bright pink fleece and neon orange hat packed, thanks to Hoskins reminding me to bring colorful gear. He, on the other hand, is wearing a camouflage jacket and light brown pants. Quinones is dressed in all black.<\/p>\n As Hoskins fiddles with the thermal camera, he tells me that it took four years after that first encounter for them to find anything that could be pinned to Bigfoot. Fittingly, it was a big footprint, measuring 16 inches from heel-to-toe and 7 inches wide, that they stumbled upon in the woods. That\u2019s roughly equivalent to a U.S. men\u2019s size 26.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s a long time to keep looking with no results,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Hoskins starts. \u201cThere are only 2,000 Bigfoot creatures across North America.\u201d<\/p>\n It\u2019s unclear how exactly that estimate was generated, considering there isn\u2019t definitive proof of a single Bigfoot. It\u2019s also unclear what the plural of \u201cBigfoot\u201d is. Bigfeet? Bigfoots? Bigfootuses?<\/p>\n \u201cThere are 30,000 bears in Oregon,\u201d he goes on. \u201cHow often do you see one?\u201d<\/p>\n I think back to the last bear I saw. It was in May. And the only one I\u2019ve seen this year, despite spending most weekends, and plenty of weekdays, on trails around my home in Oregon.<\/p>\n \u201cBigfoot hunting is like playing the lottery, and the only way to really play is to go camping,\u201d says Hoskins.<\/p>\n \u201cI mostly said yes to my first search because I love camping,\u201d says Quinones, who tells me that he grew up in a family that sees the outdoors as more of a threat than a fun pastime. When he moved to Sherwood, Oregon, from Los Angeles as a teenager, his main social options were hanging out in parking lots or around trees. \u201cI chose trees,\u201d he says and gestures at the many pine trees towering over us.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d stopped getting outside until Kelly shared his encounter,\u201d Hoskins adds.<\/p>\n Hoskins says he used to love driving deep into the forest and spending the night outside. But in his twenties, he fell into a different routine. Most of his friends preferred video games or dive bars to camping trips.<\/p>\n After Stolp told him about his 2020 encounter, Hoskins seized the opportunity to drive his rig back into the woods and set up camp. He also lost his great-grandmother in 2021, who was a parental figure through a childhood affected by addiction. He found himself even more drawn to the outdoors after her death.<\/p>\n \u201cI spent weekends in the trees just screaming, crying, and staring at the fire,\u201d he says. \u201cI think being out here is the best thing for you when you\u2019re going through shit; your mind actually has space to process what you\u2019re feeling.\u201d<\/p>\n He\u2019s not the only one in the group to use these camping trips to process grief, stress, or other hardships. \u201cSome weekends, we\u2019re all just sharing the tough things we\u2019re going through around the campfire,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n \u201cIt feels like the only place we can talk about everything, down to the really, really hard stuff,\u201d says Stolp.<\/p>\n \u201cThe news is garbage, social media is garbage, everything is garbage,\u201d Stolp continues. \u201cThe only thing that feels real and meaningful, other than my family, is going into the woods with my buddies. I think a connection with the outdoors is probably what a lot of the world is missing.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoskins sweeps his arm around the campsite, which, short of the thermal scope and casting materials, looks like any weekend campsite, with camp chairs, packed coolers, and plentiful BBQ fixings. This location is a favorite of the group, I\u2019m told, both for its idyllic setting on an alpine lake and for the ideal Bigfoot terrain that surrounds it: remote wilderness, very few humans, and thick forests. Also important is what they all describe as \u201cweird energy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSomething about this camp is just creepy,\u201d says Palagi. \u201cAt night, there\u2019s just a weird feeling, maybe it\u2019s because you can\u2019t see very far. But the energy just shifts after the sun goes down.\u201d<\/p>\n They\u2019ve been to this particular spot so many times that they constructed a makeshift outhouse on a tree stump downhill from camp. Though Hoskins warns me not to use it, thanks to the local fire ant population taking a liking to it.<\/p>\n \u201cI think it\u2019s incredibly important to be good stewards of the land,\u201d Stolp tells me, adding that they often pack out more than they pack in.<\/p>\n Hoskins checks the battery on the audio recorder. We\u2019ll leave it out overnight to see if it captures any \u201cvocalizations,\u201d like the howl heard back in 2020. Bigfoot is also rumored to be a wood knocker, screamer, and whistler, depending on whose accounts you read or hear.<\/p>\n \u201cWitching hour is from 11 P.M. to 3 A.M.,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n I pull my hood up as the rain picks up. The shadows are growing long on the forest floor.<\/p>\n Hoskins tells me he was thrilled to see rain in the forecast for the weekend\u2014not just because it\u2019s good for campfires, but because \u201crain is great for prints.\u201d<\/p>\n Last month, the group found a 12-inch footprint in the forest adjacent to our campsite. That\u2019s equivalent to a size 14, which is less outrageous than the size-26 print, but still suspicious, according to Hoskins.<\/p>\n \u201cI assume they aren\u2019t born eight-feet tall,\u201d he says. \u201cThat would be a very painful birth experience.\u201d<\/p>\n He promises to show me where they found the footprint tomorrow.<\/p>\n \u201cTonight,\u201d he says, \u201cWe\u2019ll go down to the lake after it gets dark.\u201d<\/p>\n The Gifford Pinchot isn\u2019t just a hub for Bigfoot activity.<\/p>\n In 2021, a family reached out to Hoskins because their loved one, Glenn Austin Oldfield II, had gone missing in 2015 while camping alone in the Gifford Pinchot. When they saw the group was spending so much time in the same area, they asked if the Bigfoot hunters could keep an eye out for any sign of him.<\/p>\n Inspired by the request, Hoskins reached out to the Washington State Patrol, and they sent him a list of 34 people who\u2019d been reported missing in the Gifford Pinchot since 1979.<\/p>\n It was then that the group launched the Pacific Northwest Missing Persons Project to look for evidence of missing persons and bring closure to cold cases. They realized that the same skills they use to look for abnormal footprints and disturbed soil could help them find scraps of clothing or human bones. They search in the Gifford Pinchot and beyond\u2014wherever their hunt for Bigfoot takes them\u2014or wherever there\u2019s a family in need. Hoskins compiled the names of 500 people missing across Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, and California. Every time they go out, they\u2019re armed with lists of clothing and belongings.<\/p>\n They see their work as picking up the trail where search and rescue leaves it, since most SAR squads lack the funding to continue the hunt after a mission moves from a search to a recovery.<\/p>\n \u201cI want these families to get the closure they deserve,\u201d says Hoskins.<\/p>\n Many families have gone years without answers. Some of them tell Hoskins they\u2019ve been moved from detective to detective, while others can\u2019t get anyone to answer their calls.<\/p>\n For Hoskins, searching for missing people gives him the purpose he\u2019s been unable to find in his career. Hoskins was born with severe scoliosis and had 14 surgeries as a kid. His right leg was amputated when he was a toddler. He uses a hiking stick to get around, and has to physically lift his amputated leg over many of the logs that we crawl over throughout the weekend.<\/p>\n He wanted to serve in the military or go into law enforcement, but he couldn\u2019t pass the physical fitness tests. He got within 30 seconds of completing the course Oregon requires for police candidates, but no matter how hard he trained, he couldn\u2019t do it any faster. He was denied by every branch of the military, he told me. When he was young, doctors told him he wouldn\u2019t be able to walk or run.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been told I can\u2019t do a lot of things,\u201d he said. \u201cBut no one can stop me from being out here.\u201d<\/p>\n The Pacific Northwest Missing Persons Project is currently pursuing three active searches and has a waitlist of over 100 families. They\u2019re mostly limited by time and gas money, Hoskins says; he would take on every case if he could. Last fall, they found human bones during one of their searches. They\u2019re still waiting on law enforcement to identify them.<\/p>\n A curtain of mist shrouds the lake in the early morning. The night before, we\u2019d set up an audio recorder on the shore and searched the forest for heat and sound. I don\u2019t know if it was the campfire stories or the \u201cweird energy\u201d vibes, but I wasn\u2019t upset that Hoskins had that handgun on his hip as we slipped into the shadows of the dark forest. Quinones recounted how they once heard a voice, \u201cclear as day,\u201d saying \u201chello,\u201d as they walked through the woods. It\u2019s part of the legend: Bigfoot will mimic human voices or animal sounds. We didn\u2019t find any sign of Bigfoot last night. Still, I didn\u2019t get out of my van to pee until the sun was up.<\/p>\n This morning, we climb over the deadfall that guards the lake and bushwhack through its marshy edges. We walk over broken tree limbs, foot-long pinecones, and downed logs, looking for disturbances or anything that seems odd: boulders that have been moved, branches that have been woven together, or footprints that seem too big and too out-of-place to be human.<\/p>\n \u201cBasically anything that looks like nature didn\u2019t do it,\u201d says Hoskins. The crew draws from their many years of military service, backcountry hunting, and outdoor navigation to look for clues during their searches.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m constantly scanning 20 feet in front of me, looking for breaks, looking for grass pushed down, watching game trails, seeing if there\u2019s a track,\u201d says Stolp.<\/p>\n As we hike, the guys point at the foliage, which is starting to change color, and the hillside that rises above us. Quinones offers to take me up to the ridge so I can see the view. \u201cIt\u2019s just gorgeous out here,\u201d says Hoskins.<\/p>\n I get the sense that if searching for Bigfoot involved cities, smog, and skyscrapers, they\u2019d quickly lose interest.<\/p>\n After a lot of off-trail hiking, we get to the shore of the lake and scan the softer, more malleable ground for prints. There are hoofprints galore. But after searching banks of mud, we spy something much bigger than a hoof.<\/p>\n \u201cThat could be a deer butt,\u201d says Hoskins. \u201cBut let\u2019s cast it to find out.\u201d<\/p>\n He pours plaster into each depression in the soil. We\u2019ll pick up the hardened casts tomorrow to see if they reveal anything promising, like toes, or a whole footprint.<\/p>\n Hoskins then leads us to where they found a footprint last month. When they discovered it, they had Quinones try to match it.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s our go-to guy when we\u2019re trying to gauge whether a large human could\u2019ve left the print,\u201d says Hoskins of Quinones\u2019s six-foot-two height and 250-pound build. \u201cHe couldn\u2019t come close.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur first step is to try to debunk anything that we find,\u201d he says. \u201cI can\u2019t say that it wasn\u2019t a human.\u201d Then, he gestures to the ground, which is covered in debris right up to the mud, before sweeping his arm over the lake, which is more bug bog than pristine water.<\/p>\n \u201cBut would you walk around here barefoot?\u201d<\/p>\n Palagi shifts his gaze towards the canopy and asks, \u201cYou ever look up while you\u2019re out here?\u201d His tone suggests he\u2019s gearing up to spook me, not to point out the scenery.<\/p>\n It\u2019s the next morning, and we\u2019re walking back to the lake to fetch the cast. Palagi drove into camp a few hours ago while an owl was still hooting from a nearby tree. He had to work all weekend, so he told Hoskins he\u2019d get here before we woke up to make breakfast. I thought there was no way Palagi would show up, just to cook us some eggs. Our campsite was a two-hour drive from his home outside Portland, each way. But I saw his headlights cutting through the night while I was still in my sleeping bag. Before I was out of my van, he had his entire camp kitchen out, along with fixings for breakfast sandwiches, and more wood for the fire.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s definitely a crisis going on for men right now,\u201d says Stolp, as he talks about why he keeps coming back to these woods. \u201cAnd we\u2019ve found a brotherhood through going out in the woods and looking for something that may or may not exist.\u201d<\/p>\n I look up at the canopy and ask Palagi: \u201cDoes Bigfoot like to hang out up there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d he scoffs. \u201cBut cougars do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s definitely mystery out here,\u201d Palagi goes on, as he looks around the trees that surround us.<\/p>\n Palagi tells me he plans to stop telling the tale of that camping trip in 2020. He\u2019s sick of talking about something that he doesn\u2019t believe in.<\/p>\n But he\u2019s still out here\u2014and even the \u201cgreatest skeptic of all\u201d thinks about that question when he\u2019s walking around this forest, he says: What else is out there?<\/i><\/p>\n It\u2019s like a treasure hunt every time they come out, Stolp tells me, like being a kid again. And, minus the loaded firearms, this camping trip is<\/i> reminiscent of scenes from my childhood, when I\u2019d wander through the woods of Vermont looking for my next pirate ship or dragon\u2019s den in the trees and boulders. The possibilities felt endless every time I stepped into the forest.<\/p>\n And maybe that\u2019s a big part of why these guys come back again and again. Whether we believe in Bigfoot or not, there\u2019s an appeal to searching for the unknown. We\u2019re wired to stare at the ocean, the night sky\u2014and a dark forest\u2014and wonder what\u2019s out there. We like thinking about that question, even if it comes with goosebumps on occasion. But it\u2019s easy to lose touch with that in all of the other wires of life.<\/p>\n Hoskins grabs a toothbrush and goes to work on the cast. He gives a play-by-play while he dusts off the hardened plaster, \u201cIndent, another indent.\u201d<\/p>\n When he holds it up for its dramatic reveal, everyone stops talking so he can tell us what he found. I want it to be a large and indisputable footprint. But I know it\u2019s hard to win the lottery on one ticket.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s an unidentifiable blob,\u201d Hoskins says. \u201cMost of them are.\u201d I\u2019m disappointed, of course, but I realize that even the biggest, most undeniable footprint wouldn\u2019t really answer anything. Not even another size 26 track would stop anyone from coming back to the forest\u2014between deadlines, commutes, and night shifts\u2014to walk through the trees and look for reasons to believe the world is still full of wonder.<\/p>\n Emily Halnon is a story collector and teller based out of Eugene, Oregon. She\u2019s the author of the bestselling memoir,<\/em> To the Gorge<\/a>, and can often be found sharing snacks and trails with her best friend, Dilly Pickle Chip. Some of her most notable runs include setting a record on the 460-mile Oregon PCT, finishing Hardrock in both directions, and traversing every Domino\u2019s Pizza in Eugene city limits. You can find her online at @emilysweats<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/div>\n![\"man](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/Palagi.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
![\"The](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/lake-with-moon.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
![\"Palagi,](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/at-cmap.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
![\"The](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/hiking-scaled.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
![\"lake](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/lake.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
![\"hoskins](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/hoskins-setting-cast.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
![\"Hoskins](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/hoskins-pointing.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)