Tom Vosper – Looking for Bigfoot
I’ve always been an outdoors guy, so I was very lucky to get a job with the US Forest Service after graduating from high school. It was by way of my brother-in-law that I got the job, because he was a forest ranger and had some pull.
My job was as a fire fighter assigned to the Challis National Forest in central Idaho. I arrived in the small town of Mackey, Idaho, via the Salmon River Stage in the spring of 1961. Oh, it wasn’t really a stagecoach, but rather a van that carried passengers and packages from Twin Falls, Idaho to small towns in Idaho.
Upon arrival in Mackay, I asked a local where I might find the forest service office, the place where I was to check-in. He pointed up to Highway 93 and said, “Just keep walking north on the highway and you’ll find it.” I found it all right. It was a small building painted in brilliant white with bright green trim. On each side of the office was a house painted like the office. One house was somewhat larger than the other one, but both were nice houses. I found out later that the head ranger lived in the larger one and the assistant ranger in the smaller one.
I left my two suitcases on the front porch and entered the office where I was greeted by a person who I had no idea would turn out to be my lifetime friend.
“Hello. You must be Tom from Kansas?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m Keith Bradshaw, also known as the Idaho Kid. I think I’ll call you Earp, you know, after Wyatt Earp from Dodge City, Kansas.”
“Sounds good to me, Idaho Kid.”
Keith gave everyone he knew a nickname -names like Posthole, Red Honk, Turkey Neck, Drake, Buck Skin, Hams, The Crow. Anyway, our friendship began the first time we set eyes on each other. It lasted until Keith passed away in June 2016. Even though he’s gone, we are still great friends!
Okay Vosper, cut to the chase, will you? (Oh yeah, Bigfoot)
Well first, before we get to Bigfoot it’s important that I describe Keith’s demeanor to make his Bigfoot sighting creditable. Keith was a couple of years older than me and was my mentor during my three summers in the mountains of central Idaho. Keith taught me so much about mountain life and how I needed to be more responsible.
Keith was brought up in the mountains and was a real mountain man. His father, Ray, lived in the mountains and was a true sheep herder and cowboy. Ray had one of those little sheep herder wagons and tended large herds of sheep over the years. Ray also rounded up wild mustangs, brought them out of the mountains, and sold them to horse lovers that like to break them. Keith spent time with his father helping him tend sheep and chase mustangs.
Keith and I were polar opposites and how we became best friends is still a mystery to me. Keith was serious-minded, no joking around, hardworking, intelligent, honest, straight forward, frugal and loyal. He was also an excellent horseman, school teacher, coach, forest service employee, husband, father, grandfather, hunter, fisherman, mountain man, dog and horse lover.
Vosper, what about Bigfoot? Okay, Okay!
So, Keith called me one evening in mid-April of 2003 and told me of his Bigfoot sighting.
“Tom, yesterday I went to the East Fork of the Salmon River drainage in the White Cloud Mountains on the edge of the Frank Church Primitive Area looking for elk and deer antlers (sheds). I was riding my horse Stormy, ambling through a beautiful meadow with my pack mule Jocko in tow and my old cow do Tilly, sometimes leading and sometimes following.”
Keith collected elk and deer antlers every spring and sold them, generally making $750 a season. Mostly, Keith collected the sheds for the joy of getting out in the forest with his horse, mule and dog.
Keith said, “Stormy sometimes turns his head to look around and then uncocks it to look straight ahead. This time he turns it to the hard right and doesn’t uncock it. I knew this wasn’t normal, so I looked to where I thought Stormy was looking and there was BIGFOOT!
“Tom, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and chills ran through my entire body. I don’t believe I was scared, but rather shocked more than any time in my life. Shocked because there was no doubt about what I was seeing. By this time Tilly had grabbed the scent and was trying to jump up with me on Stormy’s back. I had picked up the scent too. The odor in the air was vile and I thought it had to be coming from Bigfoot. Jocko started making snorting sounds and bared his teeth. We were all on high alert!
“I’m guessing Bigfoot was only a hundred yards away from us, the length of a football field. I didn’t need my field glasses to confirm what I was seeing but I used them anyway. I took a real close look at this huge creature.
A sasquatch/bigfoot walking through the wilderness
“Confirmed, it’s a BIGFOOT!”
“Hairy all over. I’m guessing nine feet tall, protruding forehead, deep set black shiny eyes, very long arms, mostly hairless feet and hands.
“Bigfoot was moving rapidly along the tree line with an ape-like gait, staring straight at me and my animals. Something else that made Bigfoot stand out was the snow in the trees going up the north side of a mountain. It hadn’t melted and served as the perfect backdrop.
“Tom, so help me God, it was a Bigfoot! He and I had a long stare down. Then he entered the conifer trees, climbed up the mountain and disappeared. He made no sounds of any kind.”
Keith, I’m certain, was a brave man when it came to mountain critters like bears, (all kinds) mountains lions, wolves, moose, elk, deer, mountain sheep and mountain goats. I asked Keith if he chased Bigfoot into the trees and up the mountain and he said, “Not no, but hell no!”
Now Keith had the hair on my neck standing up because I know Keith was telling me the absolute truth, and he wouldn’t kid me about his sighting. I didn’t believe in Bigfoot before that phone call but I believe now. No doubt in my mind there was a Bigfoot in the mountains of central Idaho on that day Keith went searching for sheds.
If I was a Bigfoot, I’d choose central Idaho as my place to live because of all the good hiding places and the few persons in the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness Area which is 2.4 million acres of very primitive land and rugged mountains. It’s off limits to roads, trails and campsites. The only way one can enter this primitive area is on foot or horseback, and it’s strictly travel at your own risk.
To this day, I keep in touch with Keith’s son, Rustan, who lives in Challis, Idaho. Rustan has worked many years for the Forest Service and is currently a school principal in Salmon, Idaho. Donna and I see him often as his son lives in Hastings, Nebraska. I ran a rough draft of this story by Rustan to see if it coincides with his recollection of his dad’s sighting of Bigfoot, and he made a few changes and then gave me a thumbs up.
I doubt if reading this write-up has changed your mind one way or the other about whether you believe or don’t believe in Bigfoot. I do know, however, if you knew Keith Bradshaw then you would at least lean toward believing.
(Right, Keith Bradshaw)
Tom, this is an engaging story and reminds me my three sons. Each became fascinated with Big Foot and were sure it wouldn’t take long to find him. The oldest one, JT, also loved the Galapagos Islands and was somewhat placated by being allowed to have his two iguanas live at the top of our living room drapes. The two dessert Iguanas stayed at the top of the drapes for several weeks, but returned to the outdoors when we were no longer certain that they were eating. Also, Sammy the California King Snake, was loose in the apartment. We couldn’t catch him.
My second son, Chris, was also infatuated with Big Foot, but felt the mystery of the Loch Ness Monster.
He begged for a vacation to Scotland. At the same time he became infatuated with bugs and spiders. I quickly changed his focus to tools and a lumber supply. He also became very interested with rockets and adding rockets to t\ he other toys..
The third son, Daniel, re-awakened the devotion to Big Foot, the Loch Ness Monster, and Galapagos. He devoted his time to art and rendering of Monsters and super-hero’s. Already over 50, he still thinks about all those life long pursuits.
Now we are taking care of one early child hood interest, the Tasmanian Devil. I still remember a little 4 or 5 year old, JT, trailing me through the apartment, begging to see the Tasmanian Devil. JT told me more than I ever wanted to know about Tasmanian Devils. In September my husband has an international meeting on ship building that is happening in Tasmania. I am not eager to spend -almost 30 hours on an airplane, so I bowed out and suggested JT go with his father, Joel, on that trip. JT can hunt for Devi’s all over that island while Joel talks numbers and research to colleagues.
Thanks for Tom Vosper’s memory! I enjoyed the post!