Bigfoot in the North Carolina Mountains: A True Encounter and a Tale from the Trailer Park

I’ve spent most of my life in the western North Carolina mountains. My encounter happened in the early 1990s, when my kids and I would spend our weekends and evenings hunting for ginseng. It’s a beautiful plant that grows in the hollers of our local area, and the kids loved searching the forest floor for its distinct five-leaf pattern, knowing the root meant money in their pockets once dried and sold. Every September and October, we’d dig and search, earning extra cash for the family. The kids kept whatever they found, which made the hunt even more exciting.

That year, we discovered a real honey hole in a place called Greenville Watershed—a restricted 19,000-acre reserve marked with “No Trespassing” signs. Looking back, I wonder why we risked it, but the untouched forest was irresistible, and the plant life was abundant.

One evening, after my husband got off work, we went deeper into the forest than usual. The air was crisp, the sky a perfect blue, and we were blessed with our diggings. But darkness set in under the tree canopy as we made our way back to the car parked discreetly along a narrow road. My husband led, the kids were in the middle, and I brought up the rear.

As we approached the edge of the woods, we heard a huge noise. At first, I thought it was rocks falling from the adjacent mountain, but when we stopped and listened, it was clear: a massive, growling breath, way too close. We froze. The children whimpered as the reality set in.

We took a step forward, and the creature released another long, rolling growl—so loud it shook my insides. I knew then we were being watched. We had no choice but to walk toward the car and out of the woods. I held my youngest’s hand and told the others not to run, just walk steadily. Every few steps, the warning breath came again, sending tremors of fear through us, but we kept moving.

We made it to the car, jumped in, and took off, the children crying and all of us questioning what on earth was in the woods with us. We never went back to that area. We still retell the story, and we all agree—the creature that warned us away that day was a big one.

Now, I live in Forest City on a 68-acre property, part pasture, part forest. I’ve seen evidence that Bigfoot passes through occasionally: twisted-off trees, a horrible odor, calls, and tree knocks. I haven’t seen it, and I’m not looking. I’m satisfied knowing they live nearby, peacefully.

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**A Steve Lily Fanfiction from Charleston, South Carolina**

I live at the trailer park. It’s not a bad place if you know who to avoid and mind your business. One of my favorite things is people-watching from my little deck, which gets the best sun. Our trailer backs up to the woods and all the trails and forts built by the park kids. I know all the kids and try to watch out for them, especially the latchkey kids whose parents work late.

One afternoon, I was on my porch when I heard the kids coming up from the woods, talking excitedly. “It’s not my fault,” one said. “She’s your sister—who was playing with her?” “It wasn’t me!” The bickering faded into the background until I heard something that caught my attention: “I told her not to go running after the baby monkey.” “There’s no monkeys in Mississippi, dummy!” “It wasn’t that, and you know it.”

I realized they’d left someone’s little sister out in the woods chasing monkeys. I took off to the back of the trailer and set out into the woods. It was getting dark, but I knew these woods better than anyone. The kids’ trail was easy to follow—lots of footprints and broken sticks.

Soon, I saw two sets of small barefoot tracks. Those kids let the little sister out here with no shoes! Then I saw another small set of tracks—was I looking for one lost kid or two? I kept going, knowing she was certainly lost by now. Then I smelled something awful. At first, I thought it was a skunk, but as I got closer, it was familiar. Sasquatch. Was the little girl chasing a baby Sasquatch?

I hurried to find her before Mama Squatch did. Not long after, I heard pitiful crying and sprinted toward the sound. Suddenly, something fell on top of me and wrapped its hairy little arms around my neck—a baby Sasquatch! I knew Mama would be looking for her and she’d be mad. I needed to return the baby and find the little girl.

With the baby clinging to me, I headed back to the main trail, looking for Mama Squatch. Then I heard growls from the bushes—coyotes. The baby held on tighter, scared. I glimpsed a pack of coyotes and ran as fast as I could, the pack chasing me. Winded and lost, I backed up against a pine and coaxed the baby onto a branch for safety.

The coyotes lunged, but then a miracle happened. I heard them being launched into trees—Mama Squatch had arrived. Eight feet tall and furious, she snatched coyotes by the tail and slammed them into trees, never taking her eyes off me. She screamed so loud it shook my chest. Then the baby squatch jumped onto me again, and Mama’s face softened. She reached out for her baby, and after a touching reunion, Mama Squatch stroked my hair. She wanted me to follow.

Mama Squatch led me to a makeshift nest. Inside, the little girl I’d been searching for was sound asleep. Mama Squatch had protected her from the coyotes. I woke the girl, and we got out of there. When I turned to thank Mama Squatch, she and the baby were gone.

We made it home, and my husband laughed, asking if I’d been chasing skunks. The neighbor confirmed I’d found the girl in the woods. Steve Lily nodded, shrugging. This fanfiction, written in a familiar southern vernacular, was a delightful addition to the Steve Lily stories. Thank you to the writer from Charleston, South Carolina!

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I hope you enjoyed these tales from the North Carolina woods—real encounters and creative fiction, all woven into the rich tapestry of mountain life.