Rangers Report Mysterious GPS Malfunctions Deep in Washington Forest

Seven Bigfoots on a sheer cliff face. Six with dark fur. One completely white. And the whole thing was caught on camera by park rangers. That's the hook from a video that just crossed my feed, and honestly, it's one of the wildest things I've seen in a while. The footage comes from a channel that covers Sasquatch encounters, and the story behind it is just as compelling as the visuals. Three rangers—Ethan Halbrook, Brooke Hensley, and Grant Mercer—headed out on a routine two-day inspection trip in Washington's Mount Baker-Snoqualmie area. Their mission was simple: check on reports of rockfall from three climbing groups, two of whom mentioned their GPS units kept losing signal and recalculating on their own. Ethan had been working the Cascades for over a decade and figured it would be another standard assignment. The first few hours went exactly as expected. Brooke photographed a leaning trail sign, Grant used his telephoto lens to document a talus slide, Ethan marked a fallen tree for the maintenance crew. Then the GPS started acting up again. It recalculated their position, shifted them 40 yards to the left before correcting itself, and at one point curled their route into an arc before snapping back. Ethan started checking the paper map more often, and Brooke pulled out the compass. But the weirdness was just getting started. About half an hour later, they passed a distinctive lightning-struck pine—trunk split in two, one side blackened by fire. Grant photographed it as a landmark. Less than an hour after that, Grant spoke up from behind them. "Wait, isn't that tree?" They were standing less than 50 yards from the exact same pine. The split, the broken branch, the burn patch—all matched the photo. But the GPS track log showed no loop. Their path formed a broad arc to the east, as if they'd been walking in a completely different location the whole time. This kind of spatial anomaly is something researchers have heard about for decades. Witnesses often describe feeling like they walked in a straight line only to end up back where they started, or finding themselves disoriented in ways that don't match the terrain. Some attribute it to electromagnetic interference, others to the presence of something that doesn't want to be found. GPS malfunctions in particular show up again and again in encounter reports, often in the same areas where physical evidence like footprints or tree structures have been documented. The rangers made camp near a deep rock ravine as the light faded. That's when the sounds started. Dry clacks, like rocks striking each other, echoing down from the cliff face across the ravine. Not a rockslide—just isolated strikes, with pauses between them. Grant grabbed a flashlight, Ethan followed him out to the open area. The beam only reached the lower part of the cliff. Above that, complete darkness. No falling rocks, no dust, no other lights. And then, according to the narrator, the camera captured something that made him count three times before believing it. Seven figures climbing straight up an almost vertical cliff where even experienced climbers would need ropes. Six had brown or black fur. The seventh was completely white, noticeably larger, and always moved behind the others. Every time the group stopped on a ledge, they did something strange—and the white one was always last to inspect it. Then it turned its head and looked straight toward the camera. White Sasquatches are a staple of Native American oral tradition across many tribes—stories of large, pale, sometimes spiritual figures that walk apart from the rest. Seeing one alongside six others, all moving with purpose across terrain that would challenge any human, is the kind of footage that gets researchers talking for years. The video goes into much more detail about what happened next, and honestly, you need to see the cliff footage for yourself. The buildup is just as important as the payoff.