Seeking Myth

The legend of Bigfoot is one of the most recognizable examples of cryptozoology in the modern western world. Stories of Bigfoot hunters—crazed cryptid-enthusiasts hellbent on finding and documenting the elusive creatures of the woods—are frequently a source of laughter and ridicule. Of course, there is no such thing as Bigfoot, right?

Pseudoscience and conspiracy theories run rampant in our society. Whether it be fears of vaccination, the belief that all the world’s governments are run by a secret society, or even the simple belief in the supernatural. These ideas are regularly shared, and oftentimes dismissed. Without hard substantial evidence of these theories, shrugging them off as lunacy isn’t exactly stupid. Alongside the spark of pseudoscience, increasing trust in the scientific method and factual evidence has accompanied it—perhaps the rise of conspiracy theories is a desperate protest against this reaction. Pondering the existence of mythical creatures simply does not fit into the modern shifts of western culture, and yet, Bigfoot, the legend of the Sasquatch, is still a tale that lives, and it lives strong.

The story of Bigfoot dates well over a hundred years back. In 1904, settlers in the Sixes River area in Washington reported seeing a hairy “wild man.” Similar accounts of hairy, apelike human- oids were reported back in 1924 by miners near Mt. St. Helens. Oddly enough, the area is no stranger to tales of “ape men” at all. Settlers in the area reported seeing massive footprints at times, and even the indigenous peoples of the area had tales of “mountain devils.” The men reported 7-foot tall “gorilla men” assaulting them with large boulders—the location of the attack is now lovingly named “Ape Canyon.” In their story, they claimed they were no more than eight miles off Spirit Lake when they encountered four of the bipedal primates moving with “human-like strides.” The Oregonian reported the men’s descriptions, mentioning long black hair, ears that shot straight up measuring at four inches, and only four stubby toes on each foot. They estimated the beasts to have weighed approximately 400 pounds. The tale was soon dismissed by rangers, who stated that the boulders they had been attacked with were likely placed there by the miners themselves.

The likelihood of there really being giant ape creatures in the woods is slim. The worst you’ll find out there is an angry bear, or maybe a deranged mountain lion. And yet, the collective human conscience constantly aims to invent mythological beings and insert them into reality. Whether concentrated on superstitious or more reality-focused concerns and considerations, our brains come up with stories, scenarios, and characters whether we want to or not. I wonder if it’s related to survival instinct. When humanity still hunted and gathered to survive, the ability to exaggerate potential threats could have its uses in avoiding predators—the rustling in the bushes could be something that wants to eat us, right?

It’s humbling to think of that possibility. As a species, we often place ourselves above the life around us. We want to rationalize our intelligence and accomplishments as the natural result of being a higher form of life.

Along with species elitism, we frequently aim to humanize existence around us. The idea that we are alone in our languages, cultures, and technological advancement is both the basis for superiority, and an insurmountable amount of fear. The world does not operate the way the human mind does. Mother nature is not caught up in the “indomitable human spirit,” and she is not caught up in the materialism birthed by humanity. The deer does not worry about how much it is worth. The deer only wishes to survive. Perhaps this is why humanity has created entities with humanlike motives and intelligence. The famous Sasquatch is no exception. He’s commonly characterized as a protector figure: a guardian of the forest. Many cultures had stories of Bigfoot-like creatures. The Ojibway people of the Northern Plains talked about the “Rugaru” who showed up in times of danger, and other nations agreed the hairy creature was a messenger, telling people to alter their ways.

The idea of a sapient creature (or creatures) stalking the woods to save humanity from its own doings is fascinating in relation to the sense of human superiority. It’s as though we require an “other” to personify the victims of our wrongdoings. When we destroy millions of acres of land in the name of capitalism and advancement, we destroy the natural homes of creatures we can’t possibly relate to. The mind of a squirrel is not that of our own, and thus, we cannot truly understand it. But, the mind of Bigfoot, although characterized as more animalistic than our own, is somehow understood. Sasquatch is a creature that wishes to guard the woods and live undisturbed—its motives are beyond the natural cycle of survival.

The natural cycle of life is something humanity wishes desperately to distance itself from. We want to be above it, to control it. Whether it’s God appointing us the stewards of the Earth, or the pantheon of ancient Greek gods entertaining human efforts above all, human mythology always revolves around us. It always places us above the rest as the chosen beings on this planet.

This idea of spiritual importance goes handin-hand with the capitalist-centric idea of enlightenment that echoes throughout culture despite the large awakening of a more humble acceptance of the natural world. Creatures like Bigfoot are just a byproduct of the ever-changing nature of human understanding. Almost a century ago, the miners near Mt. St. Helens told false tales of rabid ape men—an important tale when analyzed further than just the ramblings of the deranged. It’s possible that they understood that using the land for their own gain in the gold rush was an abuse of the natural world and sought to clear their consciousness with a personification of the very land they mined. I believe the legend of Bigfoot symbolizes this very idea at its core: the creature represents the guilty conscience of humanity. We destroy forests, we deface mountainsides, we displace wildlife, and we cause mass extinction. Perhaps humanizing the victims of said wrath helps us deal with our collective guilt. So maybe folklore and mythology are not all negative. It’s easy to fall into the pit of nihilistic belief without something to hold onto. Bigfoot may just be a hoax, a creature that simply does not exist, but maybe we should pretend it does.