On October 31, 1996, my brother, a high school senior at the time, asked me to take him out to Veteran’s Lake inside the Chickasaw National Recreation Area in Sulphur, Oklahoma. Some of his friends from the high school band were going to meet at the lake that night to try and see the “Lady of the Lake.”
The Lady of the Lake is a legend in Sulphur—a ghost story about a young woman who was supposed to have died in the lake and now, every Halloween night, at midnight, comes up out of the water. I personally have never seen anything that would lead me to believe that it is true, but I do know some people who swear that they have seen her. My brother, by the way, sat out there all night for nothing.
I dropped my brother off at about eleven thirty and sat and talked with him and some of his friends for a few minutes. I left the lake at about eleven forty-five and headed back toward the house. I exited the Veteran’s Lake area, onto Perimeter Road, which runs through the center of the park.
As I headed south on Perimeter Road I crossed a low-water crossing bridge. I do not know about everyone else, but when I drive a particular route regularly, there are certain things I look at every time. Well, when I drove Perimeter Road one of the things I looked at was the creek. Heading north I would look up the creek as I crossed the bridge, and heading south, I would look down the creek. This time was no different. As I crossed the Rock Creek low-water bridge I looked down the creek.
The light was good that night. The moon was visible and was giving off a good amount of light (as I remember it), and there were some street lights at the Rock Creek campgrounds entrance just about fifty yards from the creek.
As I crossed the creek, and looked west, down the creek, I saw a large, hairy “thing” crouched on the south bank of the creek. The first thought that went through my head was, “There’s no f*#!ing way I just saw that.” Up ahead was an area where the camper trailers could empty their refuse tanks. It was also an entrance to the trail that leads up to Bromide Hill.
I pulled into the parking lot there and turned around. I drove back to the bridge and, as I drove onto the bridge, pulled my car to where my headlights shone down the creek. The “thing” was still there. Now that I could see it better, and had a better view of it, I could tell what I was looking at. There, crouched on the balls of his feet, with his hands cupped in the water, was a large, chocolate brown, male Bigfoot. He was approximately seven and a half to eight feet tall, and was very broad in the shoulders and narrow in the hip. I would guess the weight to be within the 500 to 600 pound range. It was covered in hair. Long on the head and shorter as it went down. Since I only saw it from a profile angle I couldn’t tell much about its facial features. The head had a large crest on it similar to that of a gorilla.
I looked at him for what seemed like a minute, but it was actually more like a second and a half, before he stood. Without so much as a sideways glance at me, he crossed the creek, which is about three feet deep in places and forty-two degrees year round, up a very steep embankment on the north side of the creek, and disappeared into the narrow strip of trees.
On the north side of the creek there was, as I stated, a narrow strip of trees, and on the other side of those trees is a nursing home and a residential area. However, on the south side of the creek were the campgrounds, which, at that time of year, would have been empty, and woods for miles. For years I could not figure out why he chose the route he did. Finally I came to the conclusion that, chances were, his family was in the woods to the south and if I was going to follow him, he wanted me to follow him away from his family. Kind of like a mother bird will flop around on the ground, pretending to have a broken wing, to lead predators away from her chicks.
It was five years before I told another soul what I had seen that night. It was not that I worried about my reputation. I am just not real big on being ridiculed.