Wednesday, July 18, 2018

ALBERT OSTMAN -- Kidnapped by a sasquatch -- part 1

Most everyone has heard the name Albert Ostman. And some the basic story in some form or other. The story is worth telling again.

John Green first heard of Ostman's story through a newspaper article. At first he thought the whole thing was just a wild story but then realized the "great strength" of the tale was in the amount of anatomical detail it contained. Information that at that time was vastly unknown at the time the story was first told. Information that afterwards was confirmed many times over.


Although Ostman was interviewed or questioned several times over the years, there was no occasion that he had ever told the complete story from beginning to end before 1957.  Except once. When Ostman wrote his tale in its entirety writing it down in a notebook. In an attempt to remember as many details as possible, Ostman collected items that would help remind him of the events from nearly 33 years before.


When Ostman was asked if he could swear to the accuracy of his account of events, he stressed that he could only swear to the part that directly concerned the sasquatch. Some of the rest was patched together and might have been from previous trips out to the wilderness.


John Green went to visit with Albert Ostman to interview him. Ostman gave him the notebook in which he had written out the story. What follows is the story in Albert Ostman's words :


"I have always followed logging and construction work. This time I had worked over one year on a construction job, and thought a good vacation was in order. B.C. is famous for lost gold mines. One is supposed to be at the head of Toba Inlet -- why not look for this mine and have a vacation at the same time? I took the Union steamship boat to Lund, B.C. From there I hired an old Indian to take me to the head of Toba Inlet.


"This old Indian was a very talkative old gentleman. He told me stories about gold brought out by a white man from the lost mine. This white man was a very heavy drinker -- spent his money freely in saloons. But he had no trouble in getting more money. He would be away a few days, then come back with a bag of gold. But one time he went to his mine and never came back. Some people said a Sasquatch had killed him.


"At that time I had never heard of a Sasquatch. So I asked what kind of an animal he called a Sasquatch. The Indian said, 'They are people. Big people living in the mountains. My uncle saw the tracks of one that were two feet long. One old Indian saw one over eight feet tall.'


"I told the Indian I didn't believe in their old fables about mountain giants. It might have been some thousands of years ago, but not nowadays.


"The Indian said: 'There may not be many, but they still exist.'


"We arrived at the head of the inlet about 4pm. I made camp at the mouth of a creek . . . The Indian had supper with me, and I told him to look out for me in about three weeks. I would be camping at the same spot when I came back . . .


"Next morning I took my rifle with me, but left my equipment at the camp. I decided to look around for some deer trail to lead me up into the mountain. On the way up the inlet I had seen a pass in the mountain that I wanted to go through, to see what was on the other side.


"I spent most of the fore noon looking for a trail but found none, except for a hogback running down to the beach. So I swamped out a trail from there, got back to my camp about 3:00 pm that afternoon, and made up my pack to be ready in the morning. My equipment consisted of one 30-30 Winchester rifle, I had a special home-made prospecting pick, axe on one end, pick on the other. I had a leather case for this pick which fastened to my belt, also my sheath knife.


"The storekeeper at Lund was co-operative. He gave me some cans for my sugar, salt and matches to keep them dry. My grub consisted mostly of canned stuff, except for a side of bacon, a bag of beans, four pounds of prunes and six packets of macaroni, cheese, three pounds of pancake flour and six packets of rye king hard tack, three rolls of snuff, one quart sealer of butter, and two one-pound cans of milk. I had two boxes of shells for my rifle.


"The storekeeper gave me a biscuit tin. I put a few things in that and cached it under a windfall, so I would have it when I came back here waiting for a boat to bring me out. My sleeping bag I rolled up and tied on top of my pack sack, together with my ground sheet, small frying pan, and one aluminum pot that held about a gallon. As my canned food was used, I would get plenty of empty cans to cook with.


"The following morning I had an early breakfast, made up my pack, and started out up the hogback. My pack must have been at least eighty pounds, besides my rifle. After one hour, I had to rest. I kept resting and climbing all that morning. About 2:00 pm I came to a flat place below a rock bluff. There was a bunch of willow in one place. I made a wooden spade and started digging for water. About a foot down I got seepings of water, so I decided to camp here for the night, and scout around for the best way to get on from here.


"I must have been up to near a thousand feet. There was a most beautiful view over the islands and the strait -- tugboats with log booms, and fishing boats going in all directions. A lovely spot. I spent the following day prospecting round. But no sign of minerals. I found a deer tail leading towards this pass that I had seen on my way up the inlet.


"The following morning I started out early, while it was cool. It was steep climbing with my heavy pack. After a three hours climb, I was tired and stopped to rest. On the other side of a ravine from where I was resting was a yellow spot below some small trees. I moved over there and started digging for water.


"I found a small spring and made a small trough from cedar bark and got a small amount of water, had my lunch and rested here 'till evening . . .  I made it over the pass late that night.


"Now I had down hill and good going, but I was hungry and tired, so I camped at the first bunch of trees I came to . . . I was trying to size up the terrain -- what direction I would take from here. Towards west would lead to low land and some other inlet, so I decided to go in a northeast direction . . . had good going and slight down hill all day. I must have made 10 miles when I came to a small spring and a big black hemlock tree.






"This was a lovely campsite, I spent two days here just resting and prospecting. The first night here I shot a small deer . . . " [Two days later] . . .  I found an exceptionally good campsite. It was two good-sized cypress trees growing close together and near a rock wall with a nice spring just below these trees. I intended to make this my permanent camp. I cut lots of brush for my bed between these trees. I rigged up a pole from this rock wall to hang my packsack on, and I arranged some flat rocks for my fireplace for cooking. I had a  really classy setup . . .


"And that is when things began to happen.


"I am a heavy sleeper, not much disturbs me after I go to sleep, especially on a good bed like I had now.


"Next morning I noticed things had been disturbed during the night. But nothing missing I could see. I roasted my grouse on a stick for breakfast . . .


"That night I filled up the magazine of my rifle. I still had one full box of 20 shells and six shells in my coat pocket. That night I laid my rifle under the edge of my sleeping bag. I thought a porcupine had visited me the night before and porkies like leather, so I put my shoes in the bottom of my sleeping bag.


"Next morning my pack sack had been emptied out. Some one had turned the sack upside down. It was still hanging on the pole from the shoulder straps as I had hung it up. Then I noticed one half-pound package of prunes was missing. Also my pancake flour was missing, but my salt bag was not touched. Porkies always look for salt, so I decided it must be something else than porkies. I looked for tracks but found none. I did not think it was a bear, they always tear up and make a mess of things. I kept close to camp these days in case this visitor would come back.


"I climbed up on a big rock where I had a good view of the camp, but nothing showed up. I was hoping it would be a porky, so I would get a good porky stew. These visits had now been going on for three nights . . .



"This night it was cloudy and looked like it might rain. I took special notice of how everything was arranged. I closed my pack sack, I did not undress, I only took off my shoes, put them in the bottom of my sleeping bag. I drove my prospecting pick into one of the cypress trees so I could reach it from my bed. I also put the rifle alonside me, inside my sleeping bag. I fully intended to stay awake all night to find out who my visitor was, but I must have fallen asleep.

"I was awakened by something picking me up. I was half asleep and at first I did not remember where I was. As I began to get my wits together, I remembered I was on this prospecting trip, and in my sleeping bag.


"My first thought was -- it must be a snow slide, but there was no snow around my camp. Then it felt like I was tossed on horseback, but I could feel whoever it was, was walking.

"I tried to reason out what kind of animal this could be. I tried to get at my sheath knife, and cut my way out, but I was in an almost sitting position, and the knife was under me. I could not get hold of it, but the rifle was in front of me, I had a good hold of that, and had no intention to let go of it. At times I could feel my packsack touching me, and could feel the cans in the sack touching my back.

"After what seemed like an hour, I could feel we were going up a steep hill. I could feel myself rise for every step. 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.

Next post : The adventure continues

Nancy

"I'll spark the thought; what you do with it is up to you."




1 comment:

CHANGES

  It is with some sadness that this announces the last post from Sasquatch Observations blogsite. But it's not really a good-bye. A grea...