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Albert Ostman & His Sasquatch Family Encounter
It's an incredible tale, but could Albert Ostman's claim really be true?

The beautiful and isolated Toba Inlet is located on the west coast of Canada's British Columbia opposite Vancouver Island and back in
1924, a Canadian prospector or as some suggested, a lumberjack, decided to take a look at the old gold mines in this remote area.
Taking a Union Steamship boat to the village of Lund, this bodacious and hardy woodsman hired an old Indian to guide him the rest
of the way to the entrance of the deep basin of water.

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Toba Inlet.

Albert Ostman was one of a breed of men we rarely find these days, grounded in one's self-confidence and not needing the constant
bolstering of ego we clamour for today, Ostman camped alone in the thick woods near the deep fjord and appreciated that nature
-just like the noisy world outside of the lonely scenic Inlet, didn't give a shit about him.

Albert would later relate:
"This old Indian was a very talkative old gentleman. He told me stories about gold brought out by a white man from this 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 Sasquatch. So I asked what kind of an animal he called a Sasquatch.
The Indian said, "They have hair all over their bodies, but they are not animals. 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.'"

After paying and thanking the elderly unnamed guide, Albert began his own style of imbibing, one of solitude, self-reliance and his
hunt for a forgotten gold mine that may still yield some income.

Ostman had plenty of food that he had bought from a grocer in Lund. Canned items, bacon, a bag of beans, four pounds of prunes,
six packets of macaroni and cheese, three pounds of pancake flour, six packets of Rye King hard tack, one quart of butter and two
one-pound cans of milk. All vittles purchased from a grocer in Lund who also gave Albert some empty tin cans in order to keep his
sugar, salt and matches dry.

A small frying pan, an aluminium pot, and three rolls of snuff were also jammed into his knapsack and at eighty pounds in weight,
Albert felt he was well-prepared to investigate the wilderness of Toba Inlet. Every morning the reclusive prospector would rise,
decamp and move on, yet somewhere out in the shadows of the vast forest, it seemed what the old Indian had told him was
effecting that barren exploration.

It was the third morning in a row that he'd awoken in his sleeping-bag to find that his temporary campsite had been disturbed
by an unknown visitor and suspecting a foraging Grizzly Bear, Albert kept his rifle close and the idea that something else than
what Lewis and Clark had titled may be surveying his bivouac, closer.
Silly tales of mountain giants and upright monkeys... the venerable guide had taken his amusement with the use of moralistic
allegories created to frighten children into being better adults.

The day passed off without this nocturnal interloper chancing another look in a better light and as Albert watched the sun
disappear over Gastineau Peak, the wary lumberman knew this night would be when he'd discover what -or who, was
creeping around his open-air billet.

Fully clothed and with his Winchester rifle stuffed down inside his sleeping-bag, Albert feigned slumber and let the night and
whatever was rummaging through his gear, slowly come to him.
Then... he fell asleep for real.

"My first thought was - it must be a snow slide..." Albert would recall  years later. "Then it felt like I was tossed on horseback,
but I could feel whoever it was, was walking." Trapped inside his own bed, it seemed he'd been bagged and carried off to
somewhere the terrified and dumbfounded woodsman couldn't imagine.

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The hunter -Sasquatch and the prey, poor Albert Ostman!

For hours, Albert sat in horizontal position within his prison, the sole of one of his discarded hobnail boots digging into his foot
and butt of his rifle jammed against his side. His only means of air in this hot confinement was a small gap in the sleeping bag's
entrance that his captor's giant hand had seemingly missed.

Slowly through the journey, Albert began to piece together the limited information he had with him inside the bag.
The movements of whoever had kidnapped the prospector told him he was on the back of a large animal and from the footfalls,
this thing was bipedal. But the duration and the rugged terrain they were crossing indicated a being of super-human strength
and amazing dexterity.

The question of who is captor was arrived when after several bumpy hours of travel, Ostman was unceremoniously dropped onto
the ground and unfolding his cramp-ridden body, he dared to peek out of the sleeping bag. With the sound of distant strange
unintelligible chattering, the dazed and sore Canadian attempted to survey the dark scene around him. Too afraid to move or to
try to escape with the night holding sway, Albert clutched his rifle and waited for the oncoming daylight to assist in fleeing whatever
this weird situation was.

As dawn broke and a slight drizzle of rain began to fall, the frightened man found himself in an area that was surrounded by cliffs
on all sides. The circulation had returned in his legs, but his left foot was very sore on top where it had been resting on his hobnail
boots. Quickly donning his footwear, Albert used his Winchester as a crutch to get to his feet and in the gloom, he realised that he
was not alone.

The Indian guide hadn't been yanking his chain, there really was something called a 'Sasquatch', but in the astounded woodsman's
case, there were four of them. All different sizes and shapes, a large male, a female and two younger of the creatures an unsettled
Ostman deemed to be children. He was still wobbly on his feet as he took in what he was staring at.

The giant male -which Albert would to refer to as 'the old man' and surely his kidnapper -was at a best guess, easily over eight feet
tall and must have weighed about eight-hundred pounds. The female -dubbed by their new guest as 'the old lady', he estimated
stood at seven feet and possibly weighed in at six-hundred pounds.

The 'old man' sported a big barrel chest and big hump on his back along with powerful shoulders. Albert noted that the wary creature
had biceps on the upper arms that were enormous and tapered down to his elbows. His forearms were longer than common people
have, but well proportioned. Later in recounting of his unusual tale, the Canadian was quoted that if the massive male were to wear
a collar it would have to be at least thirty inches.

The patriarch's hands were wide, the palms was long and broad, and hollow like a scoop. His fingers were short in proportion to the
rest of his hand and held fingernails like chisels. Still keeping his firearm as a support, Albert noticed that the only place the whole
quartet had no hair was inside their hands and the soles of their feet and upper part of the nose and eyelids.

With longer hair -around six inches long, hanging from their respective heads, he never saw any ears for the duration he was with
them and the hair on the rest of their body was short and thick in places. The male Sasquatch's eyeteeth were longer than the rest
of the teeth, but not long enough to be deemed tusks.

As the group in the cliff-walled scene continued to examine each other, Ostman moved his gaze to look at the older female.
She was the male's mate -that much was obvious to the panting prospector, the hair on her forehead had an upward turn and
gave a slight sense of femininity. The 'old lady' had very wide hips and later, Albert would notice she had a goose-like walk, he also
suggested that she was not built for beauty or speed. Struggling to guess at her age, Albert stated she could have been anything
between forty-to-seventy years old.

The young male -'the boy', may have been between eleven-to-eighteen years of age and about seven feet tall and might have
weighed about three-hundred pounds. Taking after his father, the youngster's chest would be fifty-to-fifty-five inches in girth, with
a waist of about thirty-six to-thirty-eight inches round. The inquisitive teen had wide jaws and a narrow forehead.

Finally the daughter, a shy young-thing with a flat chest and scared eyes that kept close to her mother. Albert saw little of her and
would say any later interactions tended to occur with either the old man or the boy. When asked about foot size for this strange
hairy family, Albert would add that they were all large but comparable to their individual proportions, but he did notice on one
occasion that the soles of the youngster's feet seemed to be padded like a dog's foot and the big toe was longer than the rest
and very strong.

Other attritubes during his six-day stay with the creatures were that they were very agile and to sit down, they turned their knees
out and came straight down on their buttocks. To reverse this process, the Sasquatch simply came straight up without the need
of assistance from hands or arms.

With his appraisal of his hosts finished and noticing his rucksack had been dumped beside his sleeping bag, Albert Ostman
gathered himself and asked the staring creatures what they wanted with him. The strange chatter began again between them
without any resolution and so Albert began to evaluate the situation he was in.

The Sasquatch were maintaining a distance and allowed their captured guest to set up a make-shift camp next to one of the cliff
walls where two cypress trees grew. During his sorting of what was in his knapsack beneath trees, he saw that he was in a small
valley or basin about eight or ten acres, surrounded by high mountains. On the south-east side there was a V-shaped opening
about eight feet wide at the bottom and about twenty feet high at the highest point.
A possible escape route where the large male was currently sitting.

Suspecting that this aperture must be the way he'd been brought in, Albert used the compass in his shirt-pocket in an attempt
to locate exactly where he was in relationship to his original camp. From the look of the unfamiliar landscape, he deduced he'd
travelled north-east to his present location and emptying his pack, Albert's main questions came back to him.
How will he get out and which way should he go?

With his belongings up close to the west wall and two small cypress trees forming a type of shelter for the time being, Albert
wondered what these 'mountain-people' wanted with him. Taking stock of what had accompanied him on his kidnapping,
he saw that all his canned meat and vegetables were still intact and he had one can of coffee.

There was also three small cans of milk, two packages of Rye King hard tack and a butter sealer half full of butter. However, the
prunes and macaroni were missing. What concerned the gold-hunter more was that his full box of shells for his rifle weren't in
the knapsack. Why had those been taken?

Still, he had his sheath knife, but the missing can of matches could still be a deal-breaker on whether he'd survive a possible
escape or even being trapped here when the bad weather came down. With only a single pack of a dozen matches in his swag,
Ostman took some solace that he still had his prospecting glass tied around his neck and that could draw a flame... if the sun
was shining.

Water and kindling would be priorities and noticing there was little in the way of dry wood, Albert walked around the clearing
under the watchful eyes of the Sasquatch family. He'd emptied the coffee in a dishtowel and tied it with the metal strip from the
can and would now use that container to hopefully obtain some water. From behind some juniper bushes, the children monitored
his movements as he searched the secluded large basin.
At no point did the rifle leave his side.

With the ground leaning towards the opening in the wall, Albert hoped that water could be obtained at upper end of this valley
where green grass and moss grew at the base of the rock wall. Right at the head under a cliff there was a spring that disappeared
underground and slaking his thirst and filling the coffee-can of water, Albert felt that his allowance to move and the basics to stay
alive were good indications that he'd make it out of his predicament -also alive.
Returning to his camp, the prospector noticed the young male Sasquatch was looking over his exposed belongings, but did not touch

Seeing his gear hadn't been rummaged through, Albert looked over at where the Sasquatch had their own version of a camp or to
put it more precisely, where these hairy people were sleeping. On the east side wall of this valley was a shelf in the mountain side,
with overhanging rock, looking something like a big undercut in a big tree about ten-feet deep and thirty-feet wide.

The floor was covered with lots of dry moss, and they had some kind of blankets woven of narrow strips of cedar bark, packed with
dry moss. To Albert, these covers looked very practical and warm.

With the young male scampering off back to his sister, a tired and sullen Albert Ostman settled down and ate some food without
cooking it. The young Sasquatch were still watching him from behind their foliage and with the brooding menacing gaze from their
father over near the entrance, Albert knew his escape would have to involve distraction and somehow, incapacitating the big male.

Casually perusing what utensils he had, Albert noticed an empty can that once contained snuff and tossed it over in the direction
where the youngsters were. The 'boy'-Bigfoot sprang to his feet and grabbed it and took it over to his sister. The two of them played
with it for a long while and they discovered how to open and close it.

After awhile, the young male took it over to the father and showed it to him. It seemed to be a subject of considerable attention,
as the pair stuck up that same weird chatter about the item. The night came quickly and accepting he wasn't in any immediate
peril, Albert checked his rifle was close to hand and climbed into his sleeping bag to chance a wary sleep.

As dawn broke, another realisation struck Albert as checked the reality he'd found himself. He only had enough food to make it out
of there and back to Toba Inlet. He knew had to leave, even if it meant shooting his way out, but he wasn't sure what direction he
would have to travel. Figuring that if he went downhill, he would eventually find civilization someplace, Albert put the rest of his food
in his pack and checked the shell in the barrel of his rifle.

With a deep breath, the determined Albert Ostman started for the opening where the brute-of-a-male still sat. Reaching the only
passage of escape, the father stood up and pushed Albert back. From the physical confrontation, it became very apparent to the
woodsman that he wasn't allowed to leave.

Albert pointed to the opening and told the giant Sasquatch that he wanted to pass through, but the growling father kept pushing,
and said something that the alarmed Canadian would later describe as sounding like "Soka Soka".

Albert walked back to the cypress trees and considered his position. He didn't want to shoot the Sasquatch and with only six shells,
would this be enough to bring the big creature down? Would such an attack allow him time to inject a second shell into the barrel
before the massive beast was upon him? No, there had to be another way to get back to civilisation without the use of the gun and
so Albert sought a different kind of weapon, a tool that has made mankind a species not to be trifled with.

The snuff that had been stored in the can that the kid had showed his sister and father was now in Albert's snuff box and emptying
the majority of contents into a different can, Albert left a few grains in the box and tossed it close to where the young male was
watching him. The kid's ever-vigilant father hadn't moved from the valley entrance and Albert knew getting the massive progenitor
to leave his post was the key to his escape. Recalling a fellow who saved himself from a mad bull by blinding it with snuff in its eyes,
maybe he could somehow get the big male to fall for the same ruse?

Again, the youngster examined the container and then took it to his pater who took a taste of the contents. After discussing the snuff
in their unfathomable language, the snuff box was returned and the day slowly passed without further incident. Albert went back to
pondering where he was in relationship to the nearest community. He guessed he may have been near 25 miles north-east of Toba
Inlet when he'd been first grabbed and estimated the Sasquatch must have travelled at least 25 miles in the three hours he carried him.

Albert considered that if the Bigfoot had travelled west, they would be near salt water, same thing if he went south. Therefore the male
with the prospector on his back must have gone north-east. When the opportunity arose to escape, the cunning captive determined he
should keep going south and over the two distant mountains, he must reach salt water someplace between Lund and Vancouver.

It would be late afternoon of the next day before Albert saw the older female Sasquatch again. She came waddling into the valley with
her arms full of grass and twigs of spruce and hemlock. Guessing she'd brought fresh bedding for the cliff-shelf, the watchful prisoner
also noticed she'd brought some kind of nuts that Albert had seen growing in the ground on Vancouver Island. 

The young male went up the mountain to the east every day and Albert noticed he could climb better than a mountain goat. It seemed
his daily chore was to pick some kind of grass with long roots, food that he gave Albert one day and it tasted very sweet. In return for
the unusual gift, Albert offered the youngster another snuff box with about a teaspoon of snuff in it.

Sure enough, he tasted it and then went to his father near the entrance, who licked it with his tongue. Once more, the two males had
a long chat, but this taster failed to move the big Sasquatch from his position near the opening. Albert pressed on with his scheme to
enchant the Sasquatch by making a couple of rudimentary water-scoops or dipper from his empty milk cans. Using a small branch
and his sheath knife, the ever-industrious Albert produced  a handle for the vessel by cutting a hole in side of the tin and fixing the
stick through it.

Tossing one towards the young male, the ritual of seeking consideration from his father repeated itself and the usual conversation took
place once more. The only difference was that the youngster returned to the creator of the dipper and pointed at it and then towards
where his shy sister waited behind the juniper bush. Albert guessed he wanted one for her too and so with the hairy teenager standing
close by watching, Albert constructed another scoop and secured another link in his plan to escape.

After he'd handed the third utensil over, Ostman took his own and made his way over to the spring at the base of the cliff. Dipping the
scoop into the water and drinking from it, Albert noticed the accompanying youngster attempted a smile at the realisation of what the
item was for. Taking some snuff from his pocket, Albert chewed some and smacked his lips in enjoyment.

Then the juvenile Sasquatch pointed towards his father and uttered something that sounded like "Ook." Albert took to the idea that the
older Bigfoot liked snuff, and the youngster wanted a box for his father. This was it, this was the fulcrum in any power-game. Albert shook
his head and motioned with his hands that the big brute would have to come to the possessor of his wish. Confused by the gestures,
the young Sasquatch shambled away with the new gift for his sister and didn't bother with Albert for the rest of the day.

By the fifth day, the Canadian concluded that the valley wasn't their permanent home. In all the time he'd been there, Albert hadn't seen
any sign of cooking or accruement of meat. With access to the sweet roots, the valley could be a seasonal stopover and the Sasquatch's
focus seemed to be on these delights.

Another note was that the family never did anything that didn't involve the basics of their style of living. When they were not looking for
food, the father and the mother were resting, but the boy and the girl were always climbing something or some other exercise.

However Albert's main conclusion was that his scheme was working, The sentry of the valley's entrance had slowly moved closer daily as
the prisoner had  made friends with the jailer's male offspring. For the young male Bigfoot, a favourite pastime was to take hold of his feet
with his hands and balance on his rump, then bounce forward. The idea seemed -to Albert, was to see how far he could go without his feet
or hands touching the ground and Albert would later report that sometimes, the youngster could 'bounce' a distance of twenty feet.

Watching the antics and occasionally checking on the teenager's father's position, Albert couldn't stop wondering what they wanted with
him. Accepting that the big male had moved nearer, was he now their pet or worse, livestock? These simple-minded creatures had never
once felt threatened him, but the situation couldn't remain like this.

On the morning of the sixth day, Albert was making hot coffee for breakfast by igniting the labels of his cans, some tobacco shag and some
of the sparse kindling he'd scrounged. As Albert created the one-single difference between man and beast, the Sasquatch father and his son
came over and sat down just ten feet away from him.

Beside the slowly-smoldering hearth, Albert had placed one of the last two cans of snuff and couldn't help but notice the large male's interest
in the container. The air became thick with the strong aroma of brewing coffee and using this backdrop, Albert heavily coated his hard tack
with butter and entertained his curious audience with his theatrical relish of his breakfast.

Rubbing his belly in merriment of the food, Albert set down his mug of coffee and reached for the can of snuff. The older Sasquatch's
attentiveness rose considerably and before Albert could close the lid, a massive leathery hand reached out and beckoned for a taste.
Taking just a pinch himself, the gold-seeker held out the tin-can for the father to take his own small portion. But today would be different.

In an instant, the humped-Bigfoot grabbed the can and poured the entire contents into his mouth. Then with his tongue, he licked the inside
of the tin and Albert watched in wonder as the campfire trio sat quietly looking at each other. After a few minutes the large male's eyes began
to roll over in his head and it seemed he was looking straight up.
Albert realised the snuff was assaulting the creatures innards and prepared himself to back away from the fire.

Grabbing the tepid coffee can, the tear-soaked brute emptied the brew into his mouth, grounds and all. The Sasquatch was in agony and
began to squeal loudly in pain as he jammed his head between his legs and rolled away from the camp. Grabbing his rifle, Albert expected
the ailing male to take out his rage at being attacked by the un-designed trickery and would have to shoot the beast currently rolling around
in the dirt.

Another hint that these creatures had some idea of extinguishing pain, the large Sasquatch raced towards the spring as the younger male
ran to seek advice from his mother over near the bedding-area. Albert saw the chance to escape and took it, quickly packing his sleeping
bag and the few cans he had left into his knapsack, he bolted for the opening in the wall.

Expecting to see the female -who had also took on the act of squealing loudly, clutching her children in panic at the sudden situation,
Albert dared a look over his shoulder and saw the ungainly mother right behind him. Arriving just outside the walled-valley, he fired
one shot over her head and this was enough to deter the female's retrieval.

Blundering through some brush, Albert found himself in a canyon and constantly checking to see if he was being followed, took note
that the sun was on his left. That meant he was heading south and then when the narrow gorge twisted westwards, Albert decided
to climb one of the high ridges he knew lay between him and the large saltwater estuaries that would give him his bearings.

Exhausted, Ostman reached the top of rise and spotted Mount Baker. As he settled his aching body, he checked to see of if any hairy
pursuer was on his trail and relieved he was alone, he rested for a couple of hours and ate the paltry remains of his supplies.

The afternoon was getting away from him as he set off down the mountain side and coming across a blue grouse staring at him, Albert
shot it and made his way to the bottom of the first of his obstacles before roasting the big bird over a fire next to a creek. The stars began
to appear and listening for any movement, Albert reloaded his rifle with his dwindling ammunition and snoozed until sunrise.

The next morning, he felt as sick as the big Sasquatch must've felt when he'd eaten the snuff. Albert reckoned his stomach was upset due
to the bird he'd eaten and feet were sore from the sweat of his dirty socks. Also his legs ached from his hurried escape and he knew that
this might impact on his ability to scale the second mountain.

Recalling the alternative of being kept as a pet or even being a forced-mate of the young female Bigfoot, Ostman struck out for the top of
the ridge and six hours later, he saw he had visibility for about a mile south. The saying 'not out of the woods yet' would be something
Albert might smile at later, but right now he had incline to descend. Getting his breath back, he used-up two hours to get down to heavy
timber where he rested his tired body.

That was when he heard a steam-powered Donkey engine running and knew he was near a logging crew. He'd made it.
Stumbling into the tree-fellers camp, Albert told the surprised men that he was a prospector and was lost. Gratefully accepting directions
back to civilisation, the exhausted prospector decide to omit his account of recently being the wilderness with snuff-eating Sasquatch that
now had a tool to capture water.

The following day Albert travelled down to Salmon Arm Branch of Sechelt Inlet and waited for the Union Boat back to Vancouver.
Albert Ostman never went prospecting again.

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Attached Files Thumbnail(s)
[Image: attachment.php?aid=953]
"They watch from behind complacent smiles whilst polishing their cutlery. Yet, with egg between the prongs"
I've always really liked this story. It makes me think that maybe they saw this "small, frail being" by himself and felt sorry for him, taking him in as an odd addition to the family- like finding a lost puppy.

But then my darker side takes over and thinks they were saving him for a snack when the roots ran out.
"As an American it's your responsibility to have your own strategic duck stockpile. You can't expect the government to do it for you." - the dork I call one of my mom's other kids
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(04-11-2022, 08:29 PM)GeauxHomeLittleD Wrote: I've always really liked this story. It makes me think that maybe they saw this "small, frail being" by himself and felt sorry for him, taking him in as an odd addition to the family- like finding a lost puppy.

But then my darker side takes over and thinks they were saving him for a snack when the roots ran out.

My mind went right to.
[Image: boiled-man-260nw-232197751.jpg] or [Image: 200.gif]
Once A Rogue, Always A Rogue!
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Great story.  Thanks for that.  Never heard it before.

I was wondering at first how he managed to get water but that was answered.  Sorry, but I also imagined how he went to the toilet.  Silly thought but if one had to take a dump did his captors allow that or did they watch him.

Guess we'll never know.

Otherwise an enjoyable read.

Kind regards,

Bally :)
(04-11-2022, 11:00 PM)Bally002 Wrote: @BIAD,

Great story.  Thanks for that.  Never heard it before.

I was wondering at first how he managed to get water but that was answered.  Sorry, but I also imagined how he went to the toilet.  Silly thought but if one had to take a dump did his captors allow that or did they watch him.

Guess we'll never know.

Otherwise an enjoyable read.

Kind reagrds,

Bally :)

The way the story was told, he should have told how he dug a latrine and the big foot family laughed at him when he went over to it and dumped a load.
Love that story  tinybiggrin

Is it true? I wasn't there one way or another so it's hard for me to say. 

I've always wondered how he knew how to get back if he was in the sleeping bag the whole way there?
(04-14-2022, 10:10 PM)ABNARTY Wrote: Love that story  tinybiggrin

Is it true? I wasn't there one way or another so it's hard for me to say. 

I've always wondered how he knew how to get back if he was in the sleeping bag the whole way there?

If you're ever lost in the wilderness, follow the water.

Water runs down hill, and all human settlements require water. the combination of those two things will eventually lead you to either a settlement, or the ocean. In almost all of North America, you will find a settlement before you find the ocean. In all reality in this day and age, that waterway will cross a road somewhere, and all roads lead to and from settlements.

“The nature of psychological compulsion is such that those who act under constraint remain under the impression that they are acting on their own initiative. The victim of mind-manipulation does not know that he is a victim. To him the walls of his prison are invisible, and he believes himself to be free. That he is not free is apparent only to other people.”

-Aldous Huxley

-- Got mask? Just sayin'...

(04-15-2022, 02:07 AM)Ninurta Wrote:
(04-14-2022, 10:10 PM)ABNARTY Wrote: Love that story  tinybiggrin

Is it true? I wasn't there one way or another so it's hard for me to say. 

I've always wondered how he knew how to get back if he was in the sleeping bag the whole way there?

If you're ever lost in the wilderness, follow the water.

Water runs down hill, and all human settlements require water. the combination of those two things will eventually lead you to either a settlement, or the ocean. In almost all of North America, you will find a settlement before you find the ocean. In all reality in this day and age, that waterway will cross a road somewhere, and all roads lead to and from settlements.


Wise words. 

But how about if I'm lost in the Sahara Dessert? No water or waterways.  

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