Jason could hardly wait for camp in the summer of 2003. All his old friends would be there for swimming and canoeing, marshmallows and hot dogs, campfires and late-night ghost stories. It was going to be a summer that Jason would always remember, even when he desperately tried to forget it.
Eleven-year-old Jason headed off to Connecticut’s Camp Wepawaug with his sleeping bag, some bug spray, and rampant enthusiasm. “I think my parents were glad to see me go,” Jason tells me, “because I wouldn’t stop talking about it.”
That week at camp flew by faster than Jason expected, but maybe that was because what he was really looking forward to was the last night of camp. “Since I was old enough,” Jason explains, “I was allowed to go to the big sleep over at the old campsite.”
Eleven-year-old Jason headed off to Connecticut’s Camp Wepawaug with his sleeping bag, some bug spray, and rampant enthusiasm. “I think my parents were glad to see me go,” Jason tells me, “because I wouldn’t stop talking about it.”
That week at camp flew by faster than Jason expected, but maybe that was because what he was really looking forward to was the last night of camp. “Since I was old enough,” Jason explains, “I was allowed to go to the big sleep over at the old campsite.”
Camp Wepawaug was built on an older campsite, one that had been in use for as long as anyone could remember. It was said even the Wepawaug Indians had used the site for generations. An older campsite deep in the woods was occasionally used as a special treat for the campers.
The counselors at Camp Wepawaug lead the older children off to the primitive woodland campsite the evening of the last night of camp. After building a fire and roasting marshmallows, the kids would sleep out under the stars. Jason couldn’t be happier.
“I loved camping and I loved to roam the woods when I got the chance,” Jason tells me. “I don’t do that much anymore though, at least not by myself...and definitely not at night.”
The trip to the campsite was not long, but to Jason and the campers, it seemed like they were a world away from the broad lake and cozy cabins of Camp Wepawaug. The path to the woods cut through a small cornfield and beyond it, the old dark forest was strangely hushed. The closely-standing trees stood as silent witnesses to the children’s passing.
After reaching the campsite, Jason and the others claimed a spot for their sleeping bags while the counselors directed the search for firewood. The sun was slowly setting and the campers settled in for an exciting night.
“We had hot dogs and marshmallows,” Jason recalls, “And one of the counselors told some ghost stories, something about zombies under a bridge and a giant bat chasing some campers.”
One by the one, the campers dozed off, their dreams intensified by the chill night air, the midnight sounds of the forest, and the smell of smoldering coals in the air.
It was late when Jason woke with a start as a terrible crash broke the night’s calm. Some of the other campers were already sitting up in their sleeping bags. Jason’s friend, Eric, turned to him. “Something’s going on,” Eric said. “The counselors are running around like crazy.”
Jason could see the older counselors as they passed in front of the still-glowing coals. “What was that sound?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Eric said, “but I think it was a tree falling down in the woods.” Eric leaned over to whisper now as a hush seemed to fall over the camp. “Or maybe something pushed it.”
The counselors were now in a huddle at the edge of the camp. From the woods came a loud crashing, like something very large and very strong was making it’s way toward the camp.
The counselors split up with the some heading into the woods and others making the rounds of the campsite to offer comfort and protection to their frightened charges. Jason and Eric were certainly scared, but they were also curious. “I thought maybe the counselors were trying to scare us,” Jason tells me. “Or we were going to get to see a bear.”
As a counselor paused to let the boys know that everything was alright, they could hear the other counselors in the woods, yelling at whatever was out there, trying to scare it off. They were not successful, however, as the whatever that was out there yelled back.
Jason and the other campers were dumbstruck as a great bellowing roar sounded from deep in the woods and rolled across the campsite. All the counselors came flooding back into the camp at the terrible sound and no one seemed to know what to do next.
The counselors huddled together again and then broke up to make the rounds of the campsite once more. “Get your stuff,” one of the counselors told Jason and Eric. “We’re moving out.”
In just a few moments everyone was ready, and the counselors formed the campers into a tight column. The march back to Camp Wepawaug had barely begun when another crashing roar sounded from the woods. This time it came from the opposite direction and seemed almost to answer the first. “It seemed like there were two now,” Jason recalls. “We thought we were trapped.”
The counselors, not knowing what else they could do, pressed on. The campers hurried up the path as behind them, they heard the sounds of snapping tree limbs.
The old trees parted and the cornfield came into view. Jason and the other campers knew that just beyond was the safety of the cabins of Camp Wepawaug. The column marched into the corn and even the youngest children seemed relieved until they heard a strange sound ahead. “It was like grunting,” Jason remembers, “like a gorilla at the zoo.”
Ahead of the group and off to the side, something was shaking and pulling at the corn, snorting loudly. Jason could see the stalks bend and a few ears went flying up into the air, as if causally tossed away.
The counselors motioned for the campers to stop and crouch low to the ground. Somehow the children were able to keep silent as the cornstalks shook. A few brave souls were even able to keep their eyes open, although later they might have regretted their courage for the sight it granted them.
“I guess whatever it was, it was kinda stooped over,” Jason recalls, “because when it stood up, it was taller than the corn.”
As the campers and their counselors huddled on the cold ground, a beastly head covered in snowy white hair appeared above the stalks. It stared through the darkness with two pinpricks of green. The creature snorted and a cloud of vapor engulfed its head. A few of the children squealed at the sudden sound and the monster sniffed the air again.
Another noise, like the knocking of a stick on a tree trunk, startled Jason. It came from behind them, back in the woods, back at the campsite. The monster’s head turned and the green eyes widened. Suddenly the great shadowy bulk moved off, cutting a wide swath through the cornfield.
“That critter could move, “Jason recalls. The counselors quickly got the campers up and safely back to Camp Wepawaug where everyone crowded into a single cabin. A sleepless night brought dawn and comfort to the terrified children.
Jason and most of the campers and counselors had heard the legends of Bigfoot before but none had ever expected to come face to face with such a terrifying creature. These days, Camp Wepawaug has a new mascot and a new camp legend as the story of the night the camp was attacked by the White Bigfoot is told to every new generation of campers, around every campfire.
The counselors at Camp Wepawaug lead the older children off to the primitive woodland campsite the evening of the last night of camp. After building a fire and roasting marshmallows, the kids would sleep out under the stars. Jason couldn’t be happier.
“I loved camping and I loved to roam the woods when I got the chance,” Jason tells me. “I don’t do that much anymore though, at least not by myself...and definitely not at night.”
The trip to the campsite was not long, but to Jason and the campers, it seemed like they were a world away from the broad lake and cozy cabins of Camp Wepawaug. The path to the woods cut through a small cornfield and beyond it, the old dark forest was strangely hushed. The closely-standing trees stood as silent witnesses to the children’s passing.
After reaching the campsite, Jason and the others claimed a spot for their sleeping bags while the counselors directed the search for firewood. The sun was slowly setting and the campers settled in for an exciting night.
“We had hot dogs and marshmallows,” Jason recalls, “And one of the counselors told some ghost stories, something about zombies under a bridge and a giant bat chasing some campers.”
One by the one, the campers dozed off, their dreams intensified by the chill night air, the midnight sounds of the forest, and the smell of smoldering coals in the air.
It was late when Jason woke with a start as a terrible crash broke the night’s calm. Some of the other campers were already sitting up in their sleeping bags. Jason’s friend, Eric, turned to him. “Something’s going on,” Eric said. “The counselors are running around like crazy.”
Jason could see the older counselors as they passed in front of the still-glowing coals. “What was that sound?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Eric said, “but I think it was a tree falling down in the woods.” Eric leaned over to whisper now as a hush seemed to fall over the camp. “Or maybe something pushed it.”
The counselors were now in a huddle at the edge of the camp. From the woods came a loud crashing, like something very large and very strong was making it’s way toward the camp.
The counselors split up with the some heading into the woods and others making the rounds of the campsite to offer comfort and protection to their frightened charges. Jason and Eric were certainly scared, but they were also curious. “I thought maybe the counselors were trying to scare us,” Jason tells me. “Or we were going to get to see a bear.”
As a counselor paused to let the boys know that everything was alright, they could hear the other counselors in the woods, yelling at whatever was out there, trying to scare it off. They were not successful, however, as the whatever that was out there yelled back.
Jason and the other campers were dumbstruck as a great bellowing roar sounded from deep in the woods and rolled across the campsite. All the counselors came flooding back into the camp at the terrible sound and no one seemed to know what to do next.
The counselors huddled together again and then broke up to make the rounds of the campsite once more. “Get your stuff,” one of the counselors told Jason and Eric. “We’re moving out.”
In just a few moments everyone was ready, and the counselors formed the campers into a tight column. The march back to Camp Wepawaug had barely begun when another crashing roar sounded from the woods. This time it came from the opposite direction and seemed almost to answer the first. “It seemed like there were two now,” Jason recalls. “We thought we were trapped.”
The counselors, not knowing what else they could do, pressed on. The campers hurried up the path as behind them, they heard the sounds of snapping tree limbs.
The old trees parted and the cornfield came into view. Jason and the other campers knew that just beyond was the safety of the cabins of Camp Wepawaug. The column marched into the corn and even the youngest children seemed relieved until they heard a strange sound ahead. “It was like grunting,” Jason remembers, “like a gorilla at the zoo.”
Ahead of the group and off to the side, something was shaking and pulling at the corn, snorting loudly. Jason could see the stalks bend and a few ears went flying up into the air, as if causally tossed away.
The counselors motioned for the campers to stop and crouch low to the ground. Somehow the children were able to keep silent as the cornstalks shook. A few brave souls were even able to keep their eyes open, although later they might have regretted their courage for the sight it granted them.
“I guess whatever it was, it was kinda stooped over,” Jason recalls, “because when it stood up, it was taller than the corn.”
As the campers and their counselors huddled on the cold ground, a beastly head covered in snowy white hair appeared above the stalks. It stared through the darkness with two pinpricks of green. The creature snorted and a cloud of vapor engulfed its head. A few of the children squealed at the sudden sound and the monster sniffed the air again.
Another noise, like the knocking of a stick on a tree trunk, startled Jason. It came from behind them, back in the woods, back at the campsite. The monster’s head turned and the green eyes widened. Suddenly the great shadowy bulk moved off, cutting a wide swath through the cornfield.
“That critter could move, “Jason recalls. The counselors quickly got the campers up and safely back to Camp Wepawaug where everyone crowded into a single cabin. A sleepless night brought dawn and comfort to the terrified children.
Jason and most of the campers and counselors had heard the legends of Bigfoot before but none had ever expected to come face to face with such a terrifying creature. These days, Camp Wepawaug has a new mascot and a new camp legend as the story of the night the camp was attacked by the White Bigfoot is told to every new generation of campers, around every campfire.
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