As I approached the pair of drainage pipes that slipped beneath the road, I couldn’t help but marvel at the transformation of what was once a flowing river or lively creek bed. Even in Florida, the drought had left its mark, reducing the once vibrant waterway to a mere whisper of its former self. Venturing further, I found the landscape shifting to a swampier terrain, a place that held promise for exploration and discovery.
The saw palmetto, abundant in Florida’s off-trail areas, surrounded me as I moved cautiously. One misstep, a stumble over the scattered leaves, and I might have broken my ankle. The fallen foliage was a reminder of the passage of time; in Florida, the leaves fell in February and March, blanketing the ground in a brittle, crackling layer. The crunch of each step was the only sound in the stillness that enveloped the desolate expanse.
The silence was profound, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of an armadillo. The absence of human presence in this secluded corner of the world was palpable. Aware of the restrictions against firearms in the area, I clutched my Louisville Slugger, ready to use it for knocking and defense if the situation called for it. I mused that perhaps even Sasquatch was startled by my presence, and that soon, they might coin a name for the newcomer in their domain.
In this quiet, forgotten place, I stood at the edge of the unknown, poised to uncover the secrets hidden within the hushed wilderness.
Tim Fasano dedicated twelve years of his life to the pursuit of Bigfoot in the wild swamps of Florida. His search yielded countless experiences, all of which he meticulously documented in typed journals and on his YouTube channel. This post is part of an ongoing publication project.