My Father Asked Me to Burn His Journal After He Died—Last 40 Years of Entries Were All About Bigfoot
My Father Asked Me to Burn His Journal After He Died—Last 40 Years of Entries Were All About Bigfoot
CASCADE MOUNTAINS, WASHINGTON — When David Mercer received the final instructions from his dying father, he expected something practical.
Perhaps details about family property.
Maybe advice regarding finances.
Instead, the retired logger handed him a worn leather journal and made a request that would haunt him long after the funeral.
“Don’t read it,” his father reportedly said. “Burn it.”
For several weeks, David intended to honor that wish.
Then curiosity got the better of him.
What he discovered inside transformed his understanding of the man who raised him.
The journal contained nearly forty years of handwritten entries.
And almost every page focused on one subject:
Bigfoot.
.
.
.
A Man Who Never Believed in Stories
Robert Mercer spent most of his life working in the forests of the Pacific Northwest.
Beginning in the late 1960s, he logged timber, maintained backcountry roads, and later supervised crews operating deep within Washington’s Cascade Mountains.
Friends described him as practical, skeptical, and intensely private.
“He wasn’t the kind of person who talked about monsters,” David recalled.
“He barely talked about anything.”
That reputation makes the contents of the journal particularly surprising.
The first entry was dated May 1978.
The final entry appeared only three weeks before Robert’s death in 2021.
Between them lay thousands of pages documenting what he believed were repeated encounters with an unknown creature.
The First Entry
According to David, the earliest pages describe an incident that occurred during a logging survey near a remote valley.
Robert reportedly discovered enormous footprints crossing a muddy access road.
Initially, he assumed the tracks were a prank.
The footprints continued for more than half a mile.
No vehicle tracks appeared nearby.
No evidence suggested human involvement.
The entry ended with a brief note:
“Too large to be a man. Too human to be a bear.”
David initially laughed when he read it.
Then he turned the page.
And the entries kept coming.
A Pattern Emerges
Over time, Robert’s observations became increasingly detailed.
Many entries included maps, weather conditions, sketches, and estimated locations.
Several described hearing unusual vocalizations late at night.
Others referenced large figures observed at significant distances.
One recurring theme appeared throughout the journal.
The sightings were never random.
According to Robert’s notes, the same regions repeatedly produced unusual activity.
Particular ridges, creek systems, and isolated valleys appeared dozens of times over four decades.
“He treated it like a research project,” David said.
“He wasn’t writing stories. He was documenting observations.”
The Figure Called “Old Cedar”
One aspect of the journal fascinated David more than anything else.
Beginning in the mid-1980s, Robert started referring to a specific individual.
He called it “Old Cedar.”
The nickname appeared hundreds of times.
According to the entries, Old Cedar was an unusually large figure frequently observed near a particular watershed.
Robert claimed he recognized the creature through distinctive physical characteristics.
Most notably, a pronounced limp affecting its left leg.
One journal entry from 1992 reads:
“Saw Old Cedar again at dusk. Same limp. Same ridge. Twenty years and still here.”
Whether these observations reflected reality, coincidence, or personal belief remains impossible to determine.
Yet the consistency is remarkable.
Why Keep It Secret?
The obvious question troubled David throughout his reading.
Why had his father never mentioned any of this?
The answer may appear within the journals themselves.
Multiple entries reference fear of ridicule.
Robert repeatedly expressed concern that discussing his experiences would damage his reputation.
One passage from 1998 states:
“Nobody believes these stories. Maybe that’s for the best.”
Another entry goes further.
“If people found them, they’d never leave them alone.”
Researchers familiar with Bigfoot folklore have encountered similar sentiments before.
Witnesses often claim secrecy stems from a desire to protect whatever they believe they observed.
The Final Decades
As the years progressed, Robert’s writing changed.
The entries became less focused on proving the creatures existed.
Instead, they concentrated on behavior.
He described apparent migration routes.
Seasonal movement patterns.
Possible family groups.
Several passages suggest he believed multiple generations occupied the same wilderness region.
One particularly intriguing entry from 2011 describes observing three figures simultaneously.
The account includes detailed sketches and measurements.
Despite decades of notes, however, no photographs accompanied the journals.
David searched extensively.
He found none.
The Last Request
Perhaps the most mysterious aspect of the story remains Robert’s dying wish.
Why burn the journal?
David believes the answer may lie within the final pages.
In one of the last entries, Robert reflected on forty years of observations.
His conclusion was unexpected.
He no longer seemed interested in convincing anyone.
Instead, he appeared concerned about what might happen if people believed him.
One passage read:
“The forest is already shrinking. Some things survive because nobody is looking.”
The statement deeply affected David.
“It didn’t sound like fear,” he said.
“It sounded like protection.”
Skeptics Remain Unmoved
Wildlife experts point out that journals are not evidence.
No matter how detailed the entries may be, they remain personal accounts rather than scientific proof.
No verified DNA samples were included.
No physical remains were documented.
No photographs accompanied the observations.
Biologists continue to emphasize that a large unknown primate population would likely leave behind substantial evidence.
To date, none has been conclusively verified.
From a scientific perspective, the journal proves only that Robert believed what he wrote.
Nothing more.
The Decision
For weeks after the funeral, David struggled with his father’s request.
Part of him wanted to honor Robert’s final wishes.
Another part believed the journals represented an important historical record.
Ultimately, he chose not to burn them.
Instead, he secured them in archival storage.
Researchers have since expressed interest in examining portions of the material.
David remains undecided regarding public access.
“It’s still my father’s life,” he explained.
“I’m not sure what he’d want.”
A Legacy of Questions
Today, the leather journals occupy several shelves inside a climate-controlled archive.
Together they represent more than forty years of observations recorded by a man who spent most of his life in some of North America’s most remote forests.
Whether those observations document an undiscovered species, wilderness misidentifications, or a deeply personal belief system may never be resolved.
Yet the journals reveal something unexpected.
For four decades, Robert Mercer devoted extraordinary effort to recording experiences he never intended anyone to see.
He did not publish them.
He did not seek attention.
In fact, he tried to destroy the record entirely.
That detail remains the most compelling mystery of all.
Because if the journals were merely stories, why spend forty years writing them?
And if they were not stories, why ask for them to be burned?
Those questions remain unanswered.
Much like the shadowy figures Robert claimed to observe beyond the tree line, they linger just beyond certainty—hidden somewhere between memory, mystery, and the vast forests of the Pacific Northwest.