Announcements

MORE ABOUT BLUFF CREEK:    

I will soon begin work on the film detailing MK Davis's controversial theory regarding the alleged violence

that occured at Bluff Creek. I have sent Bob Gimlin a letter detailing my intent to do so and offering to do

an on camera interview with him for the purpose of clearing his name prior to the release of what could be

damaging evidence that he participated in a coverup. I also believe that Patricia Patterson, Roger Patterson's

widow, has detailed information on the incident based upon my own conversations with her and what she said

to MK Davis on one of his visits to see her. As this will be a very controversial film, it will be done in a

journalistic style, without malice toward those mentioned, and will be non-profit. Non-profit means simply

that...no profit shall be made from it. As I am already thousands of dollars upside down in it, I will be able

to sell around one hundred copies, but no more than that at present. I'll take another tally of expenses prior

to release, which should be in January or Februaury of 2011.

MY ENCOUNTER WITH A CREATURE:

Many of you know of my last trip to the Land Between the Lakes National Recreation Area in mid October

of 2010. Here is the text to an email I sent to Lloyd Pye after I returned. It details the experience and gives

insight into my thoughts.

This is a little long winded, but stay with me. In 2007, when I teamed up with Barton Nunnelly to make

‘Hunt the Dogman’,  the US Forest Service employees teamed up with the Between the Rivers people

(these are the ones I was working with concerning the evictions under the TVA) to covertly block my

attempt claiming I was “making a monster movie that would embarrass the Between the Rivers people”.

Now, this is very strange because, usually, these two entities, the BTR and the USFS, wouldn’t normally

be seen as associating with each other…period. Also, in casual, random questions to the BTR members

about certain legends or stories of creatures in the LBL, the reply was negative across the board.

There weren’t any, which I found strange. Keep these things in mind.

My experience was mild by comparison to some of the serious researchers I have talked to and interviewed,

but instantly knocked me off the fence into the believers’ side forever. I met Steve Dismore at the northern

welcome station at about 11:00am Friday and we made our way down to the campsite. This site is only a

half mile or so from the site where Nunnelly and I set up IR cameras and baited the area with venison to

attract whatever might be out there into camera range. It is also the site of the alleged attack and murder

of a family in the early 1980’s upon which the story of the Dogman was based. However, that whole thing

was a lie from the start. Steve and his wife Lori had been there at the camp site the previous night. And he,

like all those I have met, claimed numerous small encounters during the night including screams and howls

and rocks being thrown at their camp. As I set up my camp Steve was hit in the back with what he said felt

like a rock. But there were squirrels in the trees cutting the hickory nuts and letting them fall, so I quietly

brushed it off. The campsite was at the edge of a bay on the Lake Barkley side (Cumberland River) that

was fed by a couple of seasonal creeks, both of which were dry. The lake level had been lowered in the

anticipation of the winter rains so there was a very large muddy area at the head of the bay. We sat by

the water and talked and fished, I caught six bass, undersized but great fun, and we started a fire as the

full moon rose over the bay. Happy campers. At that time, as with most researchers, Steve started his

“calls”. These were a long, rising whoop. It seems this is the standard call used to call the creatures within

range for seeing (and shooting) them. We weren’t armed…not then. Steve called for about 20 minutes, then

rested. He has great lungs and his calls were very loud. I broke out my IR HD camera and was filming

Steve as he listened for responses through my parabolic mic. Suddenly we heard a quiet call that began

just like Steve’s but ended in classic Barred Owl fashion. We were chuckling a little at the way owls can

vocalize, were probably responsible for a multitude of reported monster sounds in the woods. But, suddenly,

everything changed. From the end of the bay, about 500 feet from us, came the most blood curdling call

I have ever heard in my life. It had a guttural component that was laced with hostility and, at my estimate,

was at the audio level of 120 decibels or more. As I stared down toward the source of the sound I could

see something built like a refrigerator moving slowly from side to side. Earlier that evening we had seen

several deer come to that area to drink and feed on the grass. Judging by the size of the deer and the size

of this thing it had to be 8 to 10 feet tall and almost as wide. I didn’t see detail, but I saw the form and

movement. I was physically ill. I was sweating bullets and everything inside was attempting to exit. I looked

at Steve and said, I’m leaving. Steve had felt the hostility in the call and didn’t object. We went to my camp

first. I gave Steve my 9mm and he stood over me as I not so carefully packed up my stuff and crammed it

into the Jeep. During that time Steve said, “John, don’t look up”. I didn’t , but I knew what was happening.

I could smell a strong odor, a combination of pine scent and heavy urine. As I worked to get my stuff off the

ground and packed away out of the corner of my eye I saw Steve raise the pistol, then lower it. When we

were finished with my side we went to his and literally sealed his gear in his tent, threw it in his pickup and hauled ass.

The next day we returned in the daylight to look for sign. What we found was two areas at the end of the bay

heavy with the “piss and pine tree” smell, and a twisted tree where something had marked an area it had been

using to scale the banks of the bay. The smell, the same I had smelled the night before, was so strong in one

place that it made me nauseous. I also had smelled this same thing in east Texas a few years go. The locals

there had told me I had smelled their creatures and described it as “piss and pine trees”. After all of this,

Steve took me to a place in the exposed muddy bottom of the bay where he, the day before, had cast a

21 inch track. I have the casting. He didn’t want to tell me about it earlier, fearing I might have bolted

before setting up camp. He might have been right. I have that casting with me.

I am against the ‘calling” of these creatures as no one knows what the whoops mean to them. It could be,

as most suggest, a simple “hi there” or it could mean something kin to, “I have your offspring and I’m

preparing to eat them, mate with your wife then run you out of the area forever.” One takes a great leap

of faith believing that surviving a close encounter is guaranteed.

Now, let’s go back to the BTR and the Forest Service conundrum.  Remember, these folks are arch enemies,

but both have a stake in the survival of the LBL. The forest service needs it to be successful as a recreation

area for the revenues it receives from the tourism, albeit meager. The BTR holds out hope that some day the

courts will return the land to the original owners, which I feel is not likely to happen. If a large hominid was

to be exposed in the area it is possible that recreation would be limited if not forbidden, and the BTR folks

certainly wouldn’t get their land back. So, there was a concerted effort to dissuade me and others from so

called “monster hunting” in the LBL. Make sense?

I can’t tell you how this has affected me, Lloyd. It has given me a new perspective from which to judge

everything that we have been told doesn’t exist or is not possible. I feel both a little relieved and a little insecure

at this point, and don’t know if I will ever camp again without a more substantial shelter and an army of

companions. And, if my grand kids ask me, “Grandpa, are there really monsters?”, how will I answer them?

This seems to be a phenomenon that has come to light more in the last decade or so. Is that a function of

media (cable and private productions) or the result of an increasing number of these things walking among us?

Are government agencies setting aside land for conservation of these things? What is happening?

I am truly changed by this.

As you can see, I was profoundly affected. I will be hosting a return to the LBL in the Spring. Below is a photo

of the casting.