(from sunjournal.com) - For more than a mile, the forest on both sides of the closed-up camp road was quiet except for the white noise of wind coming off Mooselookmeguntic Lake. Walking along in the dark, Chris Julian explained why he keeps his investigations secret (the risk of pranks), what he carries in his bag (human pheromones) and his general thoughts on out-of-state researchers (opportunistic jerks).
Suddenly one tree, one lone tree among thousands, let loose with an obscenely creepy, creaky whine, something between a coffin lid and a sticky farmhouse door.
Everyone stopped to listen and stare.
Could Bigfoot be leaning against the tree? Could he be up in the tree?
Someone shone a light. No Bigfoot, yet still it creaked, and whined and pleaded, that one tree in the whole wide woods. The sound was an eerie reminder that we were in the middle of pitch-black-nowhere with no cell reception, no one else for miles, looking for a hairy, elusive thing seven-feetish tall, spotted in these same woods.
Julian does this most weekends, and, yeah, he gets scared. Minutes before, he'd told a buddy:
"I feel good about this area. ... As long as we don't become food, we're good." Continued...