BC Family's Century-Old Bigfoot Secret Revealed Through 1961 Ledger Entry

Posted Saturday, June 27, 2026

By Squatchable.com staff

There's something about a story passed down through generations that hits differently, and this one stopped me in my tracks. A retired BC Forest Service timber cruiser named Shane Mercer sat down to share a family account that stretches back more than a century, and honestly, it's the kind of testimony that makes you lean in. Thirty-three years measuring trees in the Bulkley Valley corridor taught him to see exactly what was in front of him, not what he hoped was there. So when a man like that tells you his father was carried out of a killing blizzard by something massive and silent, you pay attention. The setting alone is worth noting. Smithers, British Columbia sits in the Bulkley Valley with the Telkwa Range feeding west into some seriously remote drainage country. Anyone familiar with Sasquatch research knows this region is far from quiet when it comes to sightings. The Hudson Bay Mountain area, the Bulkley-Morice drainage, the timbered ridges west of Telkwa, these are places where reports have stacked up for decades. So a family account rooted in that landscape carries weight. Here's the short version of what Shane laid out. On October 22nd, 1961, his father Walter Mercer, 32 years old at the time, went up to check a sagging section of fence on the family's North 40, a 40-acre parcel pressed against crown land that had been in the family since his great-great-great grandfather Lyle Mercer homesteaded it in 1899. A whiteout blew in fast. Walter lost his bearings crossing a low ridge in the wrong direction and ended up walking north into the timber instead of south toward home. At minus 14 Celsius, with one glove gone and visibility cut to nothing, he understood he was in serious trouble. Then something came alongside him. Something very large, moving without sound through driving snow. It positioned itself against his left side and guided him south, not dragging him, Shane emphasized, but guiding him, as if it knew exactly where the fence line was. It set Walter down at the lower fence line within sight of the house lights and disappeared. Walter told his wife Edna about it once, plainly, and never spoke of it again. But Edna wrote it down that same evening in the household ledger she kept on the second shelf of the kitchen cupboard, right alongside weather notes and cattle tallies. The temperature, minus 14, recorded in the margin. At the bottom of the entry, one additional sentence: Walter told her it had been there a long time. His grandfather knew it. Lyle knew it first. The account doesn't stop there. In 1963, when Shane was nine, Walter called him into the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon and told him the North 40 came with obligations. Never bring strangers onto that parcel uninvited. Never encourage anyone to go looking up in the timber at the back of the upper pasture. Because, as Walter put it, "we owe something there." Shane kept that promise for 24 years without fully understanding it, until he finally read his mother's ledger in 1987, two weeks after his father's funeral, and the pieces fell into place. What makes this account stand out is the documentation. The ledger entry, the specific date, the temperature reading, the family genealogy tracing back to 1899, and a witness whose professional life was built on recording exactly what was in front of him rather than what he wanted to see. Shane even acknowledged the strangeness of a timber cruiser being the one to tell this story. The Bulkley Valley has a long history with Sasquatch reports, and multi-generational family accounts like this one don't surface often. When they do, especially with written records to back them up, they tend to get passed around the research community pretty quickly. The full story is worth sitting down for. Shane walks through every detail, including the conversation with his mother when he finally asked her about the ledger, and what she said about Walter not being a man who said things he hadn't seen. It's the kind of account that stays with you. Catch the video on The Porch Light Visitor channel and let me know what you think. This one deserves a watch.