Terry Dyson's Last Hike in Search of Sasquatch

She sat on a patio under the parasol with an Americano in front, arms crossed and tapping her finger on her arm. Drew came through the automatic sliding door with his drink. A double whipped cream with extra caramel syrup drizzle precariously floating on a pumpkin spice latte.
She watched Drew find his way to the patio after several meandering gazes to spot her.
"PSL in August?" She asked, blowing on the coffee before she took a sip.

"They always have them in stock, you just have to ask for it," he said it with excitement.

"I can't tell whether you are excited to see me or the latte."

"You won't believe what I just been through last week." He brushed off her comment, and she rolled her eyes. He didn’t catch it.

"You disappeared on me for over a week. Why don’t you start from there first? You said you went for a hike with your friend, Gary Tyson?"

"Terry Dyson."

"Close enough." She crossed her legs. "You didn't return my calls until yesterday. Didn’t you say you didn’t have enough vacation time for this year?"

"I know, I know, but I couldn't just say no to the guy; I've known him since high school."

"So, what's the ‘you won't believe’ story about?" She took another sip.

He leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “I went for a hike with Terry up in Northern British Columbia.”

“I thought you gave up a while ago.” Drew pushed himself out of the car with his shoulder.

“Trust me, Drew, this is the last time I am coming up here.” He slammed the door of Honda Civic DX 2004 model. The engine sounded like it was on life support, no CD player, and the best of all, no power windows.

It was a piece of work.

If he hadn’t spent all that money on the trips and the gear over the last decade or so, he would have driven a Tesla up to the middle of nowhere about an hour’s drive north from Fort Nelson.

Then again, this is Terry Dyson we are talking about.

“Did you bring the thing I asked,” he asked with a brief pause, “the camera?”

“No way I’m bringing my DSLR when you told me we’re going to spend a week in the wilderness on foot.” He stretched, and his back cracked from sleeping inside the rust can during the fourteen-hour drive. “Plus, this is the last vacation I have until next March. And…”

“…You are missing out on your date. I owe you one.”

“Exactly.”

“Swear, after this attempt, man, if I don’t get to see it with my own eyes, I’m giving up. Thanks for tagging along.”

“No problem, I always enjoyed the nature hikes with you.” Drew chuckled nervously and whipped out his phone while Terry was unloading their backpack from the trunk.

No signal. He looked up with a groan.
“Did you check the weather forecast before coming here or you got GPS?” Drew asked, but he already knew the answer.

Terry tossed Drew’s backpack like a pillow and almost killed him. The man glanced at the curling mountain fog in the early morning.

“Should be good. You know me.”

“If you have a smartphone, you wouldn’t even need me to take pictures for you.”

“Then I wouldn’t have a friend with me.” Terry said with such conviction in his voice Drew felt honored.

“Aw… thanks. Then what’s stuffed in your backpack if you don’t carry any electronics?”

“You can never be prepared enough when looking for a Sasquatch.”

“Wait, that’s why you ghosted me for a week? A Sasquatch?” Her brow twitched.

“He told me it’s the last time. I thought he gave up years ago. So when he reached out of the blue to take photos for him, I just couldn’t refuse.” He casually licked the whipped cream.
“Go on.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

Drew examined the whipped cream on his cup before he continued.
“Allow me to re-introduce Terry Dyson.”

Terry was a simple mountain man.

Every penny he earned went to the wild: gear and time. Terry loved nature, one specific part of nature: Sasquatch. The man would spend every moment of his life just to get a glimpse of that imaginary fur ball.

The mountain man’s love for nature was so great, he made his pennies by working in nature. He boxed against bears as a park ranger, dug people out of avalanches as a ski patrol, and chopped trees as a lumberjack. As long as there’s mountain in the job description, he took it.

He’s a looker too. If it wasn’t for his fervent devotion to find the fur ball, he would have had at least two ex-wives.

To Drew, each step felt like treading on the highest difficulty setting of a stair master. He’d tried it once at a gym and swore never to attempt it again. The uneven footing and the backpack strap digging into his shoulders made the hike much worse.

After a few hours of grueling steps, the gushing sound of water greeted us, and a gravel lined river came into view.
"Can we take a five or forever?" Drew’s legs nearly buckled as he panted from exhaustion.

“We won’t make it to point A before sundown.” Terry looked up, then surveyed the river.

Drew looked around and then squinted at the upstream curve.

“Bro, is that a spirit bear?!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, you see them around these parts. Must be foraging for the winter.” Terry said it casually, his face pressed to the ground like a hound sniffing a trail.

“It’s fur is glowing.” Drew lifted his phone and snapped photos of the magnificent creature lumbering along the rocky riverside.

“Damn, I kinda wanna get—” He took a step forward, only to be halted by Terry’s bear-like grip.

“This is the most sensitive time of year for them, so stay back.” Terry plucked a handful of berries from a bush and popped them into his mouth.

“Shouldn’t you wash those?” Drew’s lips twisted as he imagined the sharp, sour tart flavor popping in his mouth.

“I do it all the time. It’s fine.” Terry popped another into his mouth and offered the branch to Drew. Drew shook his head firmly and glanced over at the glowing figure on the horizon. It was strolling away from them.
Drew took dozens of shots in rapid succession, hoping one would catch the bear’s majestic aura before it disappeared. “Spirit” was the right word to describe the creature.

She shifted her crossed legs and extended her hand.

“It’s more cinematic, isn’t it?” He took out the phone and passed it over.

She zoomed all the way down to the pixel level on the white fur. “Is that it its back? I can’t see its face.”

“I swear it’s not edited.” He sipped his latte, smearing a bit of whipped cream around his mouth and the tip of his nose. “See the white shimmer?”

“Right. Terry says it’s just a bear.” She squinted, then looked up and pointed at his nose.

“Right. But have you ever seen a glowing bear?” He nodded.She groaned, swirling her half-empty coffee.

“But this is not the end of your story, is it? We haven’t seen the Sasquatch yet.” She pointed to his nose again. “I get the feeling you didn’t.”

“I’m getting there.” He wiped the whipped cream off his nose with his sleeve.

Terry steered Drew away from the river. “We should keep away from the bear.” He examined the scratch mark on a tree. “They can get territorial.”

“You can chase them away, right?” Drew asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I could. But I rather not.” He brushed the bush to the side as if he was looking for something. “We are visitors here.”

Drew was sure that when push came to shove, Terry would come out on top if he ever had to wrestle with a spirit bear.

The sun was still high when Terry looked up, “Looks like it’s gonna rain, we should set up camp.”

“The forecast said this week around here would be clear.” Drew took out his phone to see saved data. Then He looked up, the sky was clear.

“Don’t come whining to me when you’re drenched.” He reached for a folding shovel from his lean backpack.

“Where’s your tent?” Drew asked as he dropped his tent pack from his back.

“I’m making one.” He started digging.

Drew barely managed the tent on uneven, mulch-covered ground after several attempts. One piton kept popping out of the loose soil like a loaded spring.

Terry, meanwhile, had already dug a fire pit, carved out a temporary burrow, and was stoking a smokeless fire.

“That’s a stealthy campfire.” Drew groaned cringing at dirt-covered Terry.

“It’s also easy to clean up. Don’t litter anywhere, else I’ll kill you.” Terry growled from his den like a grizzly bear emerging from hibernation.

He pulled a map from his backpack—a physical map riddled with red markers, illegible notes, and axes with dates scrawled beside them. He hummed, pressed his finger to one of the red marks, and traced an imaginary line. Then he uncapped a red marker and added a new mark.

“Tomorrow we will take this route.” His fingers ran along the red line running up the contours mountain elevations to the newly marked area. “Let’s hope the rain would stop before the sunrise.”

Terry ate homemade salmon pemmican, while Drew ate canned clam soup. The sky was still clear and ripe in a tangerine tint by the time they finished their meal. Drew ensured to pack his finished can in his backpack, reminded by Terry’s earlier comment.

Drew returned to his tent after the meal. The raindrops started tapping on the tent canvas shortly after.

The night was damp and frigid, and the sleeping bag and blanket weren’t enough to keep Drew warm. He looked toward Terry’s burrow; jagged snores cut through the tent and the surrounding foliage. The uneven tapping of raindrops on the canvas, mixed with the rustle of nylon, formed a strange, discordant ensemble.

He took out his phone to review the pictures from earlier.

The bear was too far away to make out its details, but its glow was there.

Drew checked the battery level and rummaged through the backpack for the battery charger. The screen flickered erratically for a second or two when he connected to the battery.

He also noticed that the rain had stopped but the feral snore continued. Drew unzipped his tent and crawled outside. The air held an eerie calm, and a low hum vibrated through his body.

Drew looked up.

Panic surged. He rushed to the burrow and fumbled blindly for Terry in the dark. The man was asleep on the dirt with just a jacket.

“Terry, wake up. There’s something glowing in the sky.”

He tossed to aside, shoving Drew back before he woke up from Drew’s light kick to butt.

“Northern lights? It’s early, but if you get lucky, you can see them this time of year. There was news about it was visible all the way in Vancouver.” He rubbed his rear.

“No, it’s like green and orange! It looks like a UAP.”

“Take some pictures for me, don’t forget to stay warm.” He turned his back on Drew and went back to sleep.

When Drew came out of the burrow and looked up, the lights and hum were gone.

It must have been a hallucination or something.

Moments later the hum returned. Drew rushed out with his phone and started taking pictures of the night sky. Then switched to record video.

She examined the still‑frame images of green and orange lights against a nearly pitch‑dark background. They were multiple shots of the same arrangement of lights before she swiped to the footage. There was no hum—only Drew’s coarse breathing and the jitter of shaky lights—followed by a glitch‑like flicker before the recording cut out.

“Hold on, a UAP?” She scoffed and leaned forward.

“How else would you explain it? See that thing there?” Drew moved over to her side, faces pressed against each other to stare at the tiny screen.

“It’s too shaky to tell and all I hear is your breathing.” She played it again, glancing over at Drew, then scooted her chair back by about an inch.

“Trust me, the last bit I have the full evidence.” He smiled with a childish smug and took his phone away from her before she could see it again.

“Drew, you can come clean. I am not mad at you for ignoring me for a week. I just want to hear the truth.”

The lingering morning chill through the foggy woods felt like Drew was still dreaming, the last night’s extension. He checked his phone for battery level and the video he took last night.

“How was the Northern Lights?”

“…It was great, wish you saw it. I’ve got a picture of them.”

“It’s all good, I’ll see it again, if I return here.” Terry sounded restless. Drew wasn’t sure whether it was the hike itself or what he said over the 18 hour drive on this is the last attempt for him to search for the Sasquatch.

“Hey Terry, if you are going to give up on your search after this… I can carry on. For you.”

He didn’t answer; he lumbered on.

About two hours into the hike, he noticed Terry’s pace slowed, resting his hands on his stomach with brief pauses. Terry took that time to check on Drew.

“You good, bro?”

“Two more hours or so, then we’ll be halfway there.” He leaned on the tree and it budged a little. Drew wasn't sure whether it was his strength or the weight of the hike.

Terry’s bushy brows furrowed like a ten-vehicle highway collision. He crouched and examined the grounds.

He chuckled low.

“He was here. Headed east, probably before sunrise, after the rain.” His fingers ran through the damp earth like reading braille.

Terry stood up, then slightly hunched forward, hand resting on his abdomen.

Drew wanted to tell him there’s no rush, but when he looked at Terry’s giant footprint he stepped on, deeper and wider than his own, the words crawled back behind his throat.

Terry followed Terry’s backpack and led the two to an animal trail. Birds chirped over their heads, and Terry was kind enough to point out which are deer droppings and bear’s. The trail often disappeared, but the man knew as if he’s been here before. When asked.

“I’m just following their trails.”

Then Drew heard some beast growling ahead. Terry stopped, hunching and clutching his hand towards his abdomen.

Another growl, louder, birds fled and the bird chirps stopped. Terry clutched his fists tightly.

They took several steps to the side of the animal trail. Terry dropped his backpack.

“Wait here.” He groaned.

“Are you going after that beast?”

“Yes, it’s my nature’s call.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Drew let out a sigh of relief, even Terry’s upset stomach.

Drew sat on a fallen log and watched over their backpack.

A trumpet like a noise from came form the bush where Terry went. The noise echoed throughout the mountains. Followed by agonizing groan from Terry.

It was unsettling. Listening to terry’s bowl movements echoing over forest and drowning every other natural sound out there.

Drew looked away from the direction until he heard a loud clack from opposite side from where Terry was.

Then another strike. This time he heard something cutting through the air before the thack.

He ventured forth with extreme caution, checking every step ahead and taking full shoulder to shoulder check, front and back. Nothing.

As he approached the point of origin. Drew witnessed a tree bark freshly split open but baseball-sized rock, then two pebbles still covered with tree sap and strong scent of pine struck his nostrils. He examined one of the pebbles, it was smooth and icky with pine sap.

“Was that you Terry?” he called out.

No response.

Concerned, Drew cautiously returned to the fallen log, trying to wipe off the icky pine sap off of his hands.

He heard the rustling of a backpack.

“Terry…”

He froze at the spot.

It wasn’t Terry.

A tall creature covered in black fur, from head to toe, was rifling through Terry’s backpack. Drew’s heart pounded to let it out of the chest to run as far as it could beat itself. But his legs decided to plant themselves firmly to the ground. His pine sap covered fingers inched towards his pocket for the phone. He shaky fingers swiped the screen and started recording.

The creature looked like it was looking for something, it tossed everything out in the open to find it. Then it did. It picked up a pair of socks and sniffed at them and scoffed in disgust. Then it turned its bushy face toward Drew. It arched back as if it was about to bellow.

Drew didn’t wait for it to roar, he screamed first and dropped his phone. He ran to the bush where Terry was.

“Terry, Terry!”

The stench of feces greeted Drew before he saw Terry’s pale face, without his pants.

“Drew… Can you get me some paper…?”

Drew let out nothing but gibberish and shaky hands to point out there was a sasquatch but the shock robbed his words.

It took a while for both to return to their backpack. Terry’s backpack were unpacked. Drew’s was untouched.

“Drew, this isn’t funny.” Terry said in agony as he fixed his belt.

“I saw it bro, it’s real. Your were right and it was looking for your socks!”

“…I am not feeling well and right now, I am not in a mood for a prank like this.” He lumbered over to pack his things slowly with one hand, clutching his abdomen with the other. Drew helped. When he reached for the Terry’s map, the man snatched it with a lightning speed before Drew could. He held the map with both hands before folding it neatly and tucked away in his bag.

“Not right now…” He excused.

The hike was over.

Drew had to drive Terry to the nearest clinic.

Terry Dyson suffered from dysentery.

“Wait, that’s it? Show me the footage.” She extended her hand with a sharp exhale after holding her breath. Her coffee was empty. Drew passed over his phone again with the video. He slurped the last bit of whipped cream with extra force.

“Damn, this is too shaky to tell, and it’s not even pointing the Sasquatch… Oh you dropped it.”

“I couldn’t look at it straight. Alright?”

“…even a deepfake can make a better footage than this Drew.” She sighed at the screen and pressed play again. “There’s no audio when it screams. All I hear is yours. Come on, Drew Creed. At least introduce me to Terry Dyson.”

A red, rustic Honda Civic lurched around the parking lot near where the couple sat with a loud bang from the exhaust to turn heads - right on cue with her request to see Terry Dyson. Then the sedan creaked and shuddered, and a hulking figure, nearly seven feet tall, red plaid shirt stretched to its limits, squeezed out of the toy-sized door. Terry’s black beard was like a wild jungle and covered his entire neck. He pried open the car’s trunk to pull out a cardboard box and cradled it in his burly, hairy arms.

Her jaw made a cracking noise and almost dropped Drew’s phone.

“As promised, I’m done man. It’s all yours.” He said it in a melancholic, low, rugged voice. He gently placed the box at the table’s edge. A fresh scent of pine and dirt rose from the box of mountaineering tools. But most of all, the map - Terry’s map - rested at the top, neatly folded.

“Terry, are you feeling better? This is…”

He simply waved his hand and folded into the little boxy vehicle, and sputtered away from the couple.

She peered into the box and pinched the edge of the folded map with her index and middle finger to take a peek and saw the red lines and circles. She gulped and saw a strand of hair - straight, black hair with a reddish‑brown sheen. Her eyes widened and looked at the back of Drew who chased Terry to the curb.

He returned to the patio and slouched to the chair with a drawn out sigh. Then leaned forward to pick up the map.

He unfolded the map, and his brows arched. He laid it on the table and pinned a circle on a map with his finger.

“So… you wanna hit the interior for a date?” He said it with a childish grin.

There was a note scribbled in red where he pinned with his finger. Sasquatch was here.