Blue Ridge Bigfoot

I suppose I should have anticipated this−there was a Bigfoot sighting, complete with video, in Fannin County this summer. Check it out on YouTube: Bigfoot video.

The video is supposed to have been taken about five miles north of Blue Ridge, which would make it within a mile or two of my property. According to a website devoted to “true tales of the paranormal, the fortean, and the just plain weird,” Fannin County is “an absolute hotbed of Bigfoot sightings.” Fortean means pertaining to extraordinary and strange phenomenon and happenings. I had to look it up.

Well, that’s just great. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate this summer with my pending retirement, selling my Clearwater house, getting my youngest off to college, and moving to Georgia, now I have to contemplate the possibility that there may be an eight foot tall, hairy ape man on the loose.

Personally, I think the video is a fake. I think Dwight, Bubba, and Billy Joe drank a few too many PBRs and decided to film themselves running around in a gorilla costume. It’s something I’d do. Hell, it’s something I may have done, but I just don’t remember.

I find it hard to believe that a creature that big and that hairy could survive one deer hunting season in north Georgia. This is a place where they sell guns in a drugstore. People here believe in full submersion baptism and membership in the NRA. You hear the sound of gunfire in the hills all the time. Hunting season is as anticipated as the start of football season. In fact, because there are so many hunters prowling the hills, I am thinking about wearing fluorescent orange bib overalls when I’m working on my property during hunting season. I know I may look like a giant orange safety cone, but that’s better than being mistaken for a deer or a Bigfoot.

Even though I’m skeptical, I have to consider the possibility there may be Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) in the area. It’s certainly wild enough. Seventy percent of Fannin County is national forest.

If a Bigfoot does live in the area, I hope there is more than one and that the other one is female. The last thing I need is a horny eight foot tall ape man running around. I can see the headline now: Former Florida Lawyer Violated by Sasquatch in Gay Tryst. The thought of it gives new meaning to the phrase “watch your backside.” I bet the story would make the front page of the Blue Ridge News Observer and the National Enquirer. It might even make National Geographic. I’d hate to see my face on one of those newspapers you see in the checkout lanes at supermarkets, the ones that have headlines like “Ghost of Elvis Haunts Cheesecake Factory” and “Nancy Pelosi’s Lips Fall off in Tragic Accident.”

What does a Bigfoot eat? I know it’s not going through the drive-through at McDonalds. If memory serves me right, gorillas are vegetarians. Since I plan on having a large vegetable garden that means I will be creating a Bigfoot smorgasbord. Which leads to my next question: what type of scarecrow would frighten a Bigfoot? I’m thinking a life-sized cutout of Rosie O’Donnell or Hillary Clinton would do the trick.

As I said, I think it’s a hoax, and two can play that game. But I would be more creative and come up with something really frightening. A giant squirrel would be silly. A giant lizard would be seen as an advertisement for car insurance. Then it came to me—a giant naked mole rat, probably the ugliest creature in the animal kingdom. I know it would scare the hell out of me to see an eight foot long naked mole rat crawling through the woods.

The Bigfoot story got me thinking about what other strange things I have to worry about in the north Georgia hills. Sure enough, there have been sightings of UFOs in the area. The following is an account from the website for the Mutual UFO Network of Georgia:

27 September 2009, approx. 10:18 PM, Fannin County – A small-business owner who lives south of McCaysville, GA, reports that he was standing at his kitchen sink preparing breakfast when he looked up and something in the sky caught his eye. A thin, oval- or cigar-shaped, shiny silver something” was moving across the sky. Moving to his back door and then out, he watched it and listened for any sound. Hearing none, he went back inside and grabbed a pair of binoculars. Outside, he got a good look at it, or as he put it “my first UFO.” The witness states, “isn't it funny how when something like this happens your camera isn't right beside you.”

Here’s a link to a YouTube video of a UFO sighting in north Georgia: UFO video.

I’m not sure why, but I do not find aliens and UFOs to be frightening. Frankly, I’m more concerned about the members of the Mutual UFO Network of Georgia. I bet they are a little on the weird side.

This can only get better. I'm waiting for the chupacabra sighting. I’ll be sure to keep you posted on the news of Bigfoot, aliens, UFOs and other fortean events from this neck of the woods.

Blue Ridge Message Boards

In my continuing efforts to learn all I can about my future home, I came across a Blue Ridge message board on the internet. Reading the posts was very educational. The following are taken verbatim from some of the posts.

If this discussion thread is any indication, I’m glad I’m happily married and will remain so in Fannin County.

 

Senor Frog:  does anyone know of an escorts in fannin county?

 

Bearfoot25:  I see one every now and then, but Ford doestn build them anymore so they are getting harder to find.

 

Renee:  i believe frog is refering to a woman escort

 

Solarpower4life:  try that girl who works at bills one stop the one who looks like a transvestite

 

Open minded:  lisa ledwell is still around & it will only cost you a six-pack or a loratab…

 

This one was entitled “Is Rusty Dead?”

 

Billy bad boy:  was told Rusty Whitenburger was found dead at home .ive asked a cpl of people and know one knows .if anyone knows for sure plse post what happened thanks

 

Tjrocky:  Rusty isnt dead just spoke to him a little while ago.Just becaus hishair style is in a coma and his clothes died in the 70s with disco doesnt mean hes dead lol .

 

Rusty eventually chimed in and informed us that he was alive and well. I’m glad because I’d like to see what he looks like. Sounds like he’s not hard to miss.

 

Based on the following post, it appears that north Georgia has a drug problem too.

 

Help:  Friens tells us she gots foods gone to food lion and the give to box fulls me wants everybody no so we can gets help to.every days 8 at nite nice store

 

CountryGeekGirl:  ...what?

 

Madame LaForte:  I think this is what happens when you mix meth and prescription drugs. Along with texting while driving.

 

LaForte Fan:  This might translate as someone at Food Lion is giving away boxes of food at 8 every night.

 

Sadly, there are also marital problems in the mountains.

 

Scott Reed:  to who it may conren
My spouse AMANDA REED of Epworth is divorsing me for aman she met here on this webpage. We been married for 8 year coming up in december. She said she never met thsi person in real life but i want to knw WHO it is. I tried getting in her login and cant to see who it is, iI'm hurt real bad. WHO RU? speak up and dont be a wimp. If you want her fine but i just wanted who you know that you have messt up a good home

 

Everyman:  If she lef u for someone on this site u have not suffered a loss but a gain

 

I think that’s a little harsh of Everyman, don’t you?

 

Finally, this post lets me know there is still wildlife in the area.

 

Joe:  Anybody heard anything about a panther found in Fannin County?

 

Boss:  Yea I think there mad about the Zimmerman verdict

 

Dempster:   Sorry but GA does not have brown bears, if by brown bears you're thinking of grizzlies. Despite their name of black bear, "black bears" can sometimes be brown, too. And yes, we have panthers. It's been a very long time since I've seen or heard one, maybe about 10-12 years. My last sighting was while camping in the rock creek area. But we have them. I've heard that one stays in Mineral Bluff, somewhere off of Douthit. No brown bears though...sorry.

 

Caz67s Husband:  We were in Blue ridge in late May this year and did see a black bear, pretty big one, around 3 in the afternoon. We were in the McDonalds parking lot just kind of looking at the theater and it walked out from behind the theater, walked about a hundred feet along the tree lone and went back into the woods. Figured it was dumpster diving. Very cool to see.

 

I find it interesting that bears are easier to spot than Rusty Whitenburger. Maybe the bear had just caught the early afternoon matinee. I wonder what was showing?

 

Random Thoughts

The Blue Ridge News Observer is Fannin County’s only newspaper. It is publishes twice weekly, and it is a classic small town newspaper.

It only focuses only local news, and that means the news within Fannin County. In one issue last year the front page story was the water level in Lake Blue Ridge.

The police report always appears on page 2. It lists the names of all persons arrested in Fannin County and the charges against them. There is no anonymity in Fannin County, even for the most petty of crimes. I better mind my ways after I move there.

Another section of the paper lists the dates, times, and places of the meetings or events of all clubs, churches, and organizations in the county. That’s where you will discover that the Salem Baptist Church is holding a potluck dinner on Friday night or that the Missionary Baptist Church is presenting a guest speaker to discuss his experiences doing missionary work in Guatemala. (There are a lot of Baptist churches in Fannin County. I was actually surprised to see an Episcopal church.) A recent edition of the paper revealed an upcoming free seminar on birding in coastal Ecuador, that the Welcome Hill Baptist Church #2 (there are two of them?) will hold a nightly revival next week, and the date of the annual Farmer Family cemetery decoration. Whew! So much to do, and so little time to do it.

The movie listings section is not that big. Blue Ridge boasts one indoor theater and a drive-in theater. The indoor theater has two screens. I think the movies change once a week. If that’s not country, nothing is.

* * * * *

The most recent big news from the News Observer is that Walmart is going to build a Super Center in Blue Ridge. That’s great news since it means that I will not have to drive to the next county to go to one. Just about everything you need to live in the country can be found at a Walmart Super Center. That’s where I’ll get my beer, guns and ammo, fishing supplies, work boots, and bib overalls.

I haven’t been to a Walmart Super Center in the country enough to know if the same subset of weirdoes do their shopping there as in an urban area. If so, the new Walmart may also have some entertainment value. I’d like to think that country folk have more dignity than your average urban Walmart shopper. I can’t imagine a farmer wearing spandex and ballerina slippers.

Alas, the new Walmart will not have hard liquor—Fannin County is still a dry county as far as the hard stuff goes. For that I will have to go to the next county or to nearby Tennessee or North Carolina.

Unfortunately, the nearest Sam’s Club is about 50 miles away. Meredith and I envision making bulk purchases monthly at Sam’s Club: 500 chicken wings, 25 pounds of hamburger, an industrial-sized jar of Frank’s Hot Sauce, etc. We will have to analyze whether the savings of buying there offsets the expense of driving there.

It would be great if there were Tractor Supply Company, Northern Tool, and Harbor Freight store in Blue Ridge. There is a Tractor Supply in the next county, but the nearest Northern Tool and Harbor Freight are on the north side of Atlanta. Those are great stores for country living.

* * * * *

I know very little about blogs and blogging. I’d like to spruce this blog up, perhaps insetting pictures with the text, but I haven’t figured out how to do that.

Blogger, the blog engine I’m currently using, keeps statistics on how many views a blog has. I was surprised to see that this blog has attracted close to 200 views. However, on closer examination I realized that most of those views came from computer search engines rather than people. The rest of them came from Blogger counting my multiple views of my own blog. That probably accounts for half of them. That sure dampened my dreams of going viral.

Another curious thing is that Blogger has a little map that shows what part of the world the views come from. After my first two posts, the map showed that the majority of views came from Alaska, Russia, and China. I can’t figure that one out. I wonder if the NSA was involved? Maybe it was deceptively showing Russia and China as the origin of the views in order to disguise the fact that it was conducting domestic surveillance. Since then, the map shows that most of the views have come from the United States. If the original views did come from the NSA, does the shift in where the views came from mean that the NSA has concluded that my blog is no threat to national security and is no longer monitoring it? How can my blog threaten national security? Apparently no one has read it yet. It’s hard to start a one man revolution. A massive protest would be me standing on the corner waving a cardboard sign. A one man riot would just be silly.

The experience of moving.

Packing for the big move has been a giant pain. My father was in the Army, and my childhood consisted of a big move every two or three years. One year I went to three different grade schools. It is only later in life that I realized that I had missed learning fractions. I didn’t think much about moving then, but I now appreciate what my parents went through.

My family was used to moving. We didn’t accumulate a lot of useless possessions. In some places we lived, we never fully unpacked. In contrast, Meredith and I have lived in the same house for 34 years. We raised two kids here. Over that time we’ve accumulated an incredible amount of crap. That’s a problem since our place in Georgia is smaller. So we’ve had to decide what to keep and what to throw out.

Some of the discard decisions have been easy. I have no use for the cheap trophies I got for running in the 10K Turkey Trot race 30 years ago. They only remind me that I would be lucky if I can run to the end of the street now. For the same reason, I’m not bringing my softball cleats. The last time I played softball was 20 years ago. I just don’t see me having a need to sprint to the fence line in north Georgia. Throwing out my stretch softball pants was a harder decision—in my mind, they make me look good from the waist down. Unfortunately, with my less than tight belly, I look like a large cork jammed in a small opening when I put them on. I resemble a cartoon caricature of Casey at the bat. I think I would look pretty ridiculous hoeing my garden dressed like the male lead in Swan Lake. It could cause rumors to spread around Fannin County about my sexuality. (I’ve given serious thought about wearing kilts while working in the garden, but more about that in a later blog.)

I’m pretty sure that a complete set of the 1956 Encyclopedia Britannica and the Harvard Classics will not be much help to me in north Georgia. They certainly didn’t help me much in west central Florida. I’ve tossed them.

I will not need the two 15-speed racing bicycles with skinny tires that I bought many years ago when Meredith and I had a brief fantasy about bicycle touring. That fell through when I discovered that bikes with skinny tires have skinny seats that do not conform to the male anatomy, at least to my male anatomy. I’m lucky I was able to have children after riding my bike. I’m moving to a hilly area and live on a gravel road. That, plus the fact that Meredith and I haven’t ridden them in three decades contributed to the decision to throw them out.

It was a no brainer to throw out the used polo mallet someone gave me a long time ago, even though it is a pretty neat thing. How many of you own a polo mallet?

Over the years people have given me every sort of attorney-related gift imaginable: little statues of lawyers, several variations on the scales of justice, paperweights that tell you that lawyers do it in their briefs; you name it, I’ve got it. I’m tossing all those. I don’t think I need to be reminded of what I did for a living for 37 years.

Other decisions on what to throw away or keep have been tougher, and I’m not sure that some of them are entirely defensible.

I’ve decided to keep the mounted six foot swordfish that I inherited from my long dead aunt. It doesn’t have any sentimental value, and it certainly is out of place with the rustic décor of the cabin (which I describe as rustic bunkhouse). However, I have this strange vision of it hanging on invisible wires among the trees beside the gravel road going down to my place. Maybe it will start rumors that there is a new type of Bigfoot in the area. Besides, I’d like to see how long it is before some myopic hunter mistakes it for a deer and shoots it. Won’t he be embarrassed?

Somewhere I acquired a battery operated, extremely realistic turtle that moves its feet and head and sings, “You got to slow down, you move too fast.” I can’t remember who gave it to me, but it’s so much better than Billy the Singing Bass. I’m debating whether to keep it, though I have no earthly idea of why.

Over the years, the kids have given Meredith a variety of carved or painted face masks from different cultures to decorate one of the walls in our Florida house. We have no place to put them in the cabin, and they would be as out of place as, say, a large mounted swordfish. However, I’ve decided to keep them to hang on the trees in the wood line next to the cabin. I’m hoping they will be a symbolic reminder of the living forest, though they could also freak me out on a dark night after one too many beers. I’ll just have to see.

I have no doubt that when I finally get to Mineral Bluff and start to unpack I will realize that I kept way too many things.

Things I will miss

I spent a couple of days over the Fourth of July holiday scalloping at a friend’s house in Hernando Beach at the mouth of the Weeki Watchee River. Being there made me think about what I will miss about Florida when I make the final move to the north Georgia mountains.

I will miss being on the water in a boat heading offshore or up the inland waterway just before dawn to go fishing. In the summer at that hour the air is cool, but pregnant with humidity. You navigate by the lights on the bridges, the dimly seen channel markers, and the low, dark shapes of spoil islands and the land. In the distance, to the west, thunderheads rise high into the night sky over the Gulf, their billowing shapes revealed by the constant flashes of lightening that flicker within them. Sometimes, faintly, you can hear the low rumble of thunder far off over the water.

I will miss being on the water as the sun comes up. Dawn begins with a pale, barely discernible aura on the eastern horizon. As dawn progresses, the stars begin to disappear one by one, and you start to see the vague outlines of islands and structures on the shore. At a certain point, when the sun is still below the horizon, low lying clouds to the east and the high tops of thunderheads over the Gulf are illuminated with a ruddy glow that slowly turns from pink to reddish-orange. At that moment the day seems glorious and wonderful and full of promise. When the crescent top of the sun's disc cracks the horizon, the world is bathed in light, and the magic of the dawn disappears.

I will miss drifting over a grass flats on a slow moving tide casting top water plugs for sea trout, retrieving the lure with slow twitches to simulate a wounded bait fish. As you reel the lure in, a quick swirl behind the plug lets you know that a trout has risen to investigate. Sometimes there is a popping slurp and the lure will slip sideways a few inches as a trout hits it from beneath. The best, though, is when a trout hits the lure so hard that it flies into the air with a loud rattle and the body of the fish arcs into the air.

They say that the Great Plains is big sky country, meaning that the sky is visible from horizon to horizon. The same is true of Florida when you are offshore on a small boat. All you can see is water and sky in a 360 degree panorama. I will miss that.

I will miss the sound of fishing line ripping off a reel after your bait has been taken by a big fish. The sound causes everyone in the boat to be galvanized into a flurry of activity. One person grabs the rod, sets the hook, and announces, “It’s a big one.” Others in the boat grab the remaining rods and quickly reel them in so the lines do not tangle. As the fisherman fights the fish, the other persons in the boat shout advice or encouragement. “Keep the rod tip up.” “Don’t horse it, you’ll break the line.” “Tighten your drag.” When the fish is drawn closer it makes a number of runs, pulling line off against the drag of the reel. The number of runs, their length, and the way the fish is fighting gives experienced anglers a clue about what type of fish it is. “Sounds like a kingfish to me.” “No, it’s fighting like a big cobia.” “Bullshit, it’s a shark.” When the fisherman finally draws the fish close to the boat, everyone gazes eagerly over the side to be the first to see it and call out its size and species. When, at last, the fish is cut free or brought into the boat, the person who caught it wears a broad smile, while the others in the boat comment on his luck, his prowess or lack thereof in fighting the fish, the fish’s size, the length of the fight, and whether they caught a bigger fish the other day. In some ways, this part of the catch is ritual, and, I imagine, not far removed from the type of banter exchanged by our hunter-gatherer forefathers after a successful hunt.

I will miss camping on small spoil islands along the inland waterway in the winter. You reach them by boat. Because you have a boat, you can bring creature comforts—large tents, inflatable mattresses, collapsible chairs, a radio, a couple of bottles of good wine, a flask of good bourbon, a grill, and a large cooler with good food. After dinner, as the darkness descends, it begins to grow chilly. You slip on a sweat shirt and sweat pants, light a small fire, and settle comfortably into your chair, sipping your drink of choice and enjoying the tranquility. When it comes time to go to bed, you snuggle into your sleeping bag atop a cushiony air mattress and listen to the gentle slap, slap of the rippling waves on the island’s shoreline only a few yards away until sleep overcomes you. Hard to beat.

Yes, there are things I will miss when I move from this place. Hopefully, north Georgia will bring new and better experiences to savor.