October 19, 2025 • 17 mins
The Watchers on the Ridge
Four longtime friends head into the Cascade Mountains for a weekend of camping and camaraderie, hoping to shake off the weight of middle age with a little bourbon and backwoods adventure. But when the forest suddenly falls silent and stones begin to roll down from the ridge above, their laughter fades into dread. Something massive and intelligent lurks just beyond the firelight — throwing rocks with precision, growling deep enough to shake the ground, and revealing glowing amber eyes that burn through the mist.
What follows is a night of chaos and terror as the men realize they’ve crossed into something’s territory — something ancient that’s been watching them all along. The Watcher on the Ridge is a chilling tale about the primal fear of the wilderness, where silence isn’t peace but awareness, and where some things in the dark still remember before we ever set foot there.
www.bigfootswilderness.com
Four longtime friends head into the Cascade Mountains for a weekend of camping and camaraderie, hoping to shake off the weight of middle age with a little bourbon and backwoods adventure. But when the forest suddenly falls silent and stones begin to roll down from the ridge above, their laughter fades into dread. Something massive and intelligent lurks just beyond the firelight — throwing rocks with precision, growling deep enough to shake the ground, and revealing glowing amber eyes that burn through the mist.
What follows is a night of chaos and terror as the men realize they’ve crossed into something’s territory — something ancient that’s been watching them all along. The Watcher on the Ridge is a chilling tale about the primal fear of the wilderness, where silence isn’t peace but awareness, and where some things in the dark still remember before we ever set foot there.
www.bigfootswilderness.com
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
You ever noticed how the woods can go quiet in
an instant, Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful,
but the kind that feels aware, like something just stepped
into the clearing and everything living just decided it was
better to shut up and listen. That's how it started.
That night up in the Cascades. There were four of us, me, Ray,
(00:27):
j D and Carter, old high school buddies who thought
we'd shake off middle age with a week end backpacking trip.
We'd follow a narrow trail that wasn't on any map,
the kind that looked like it hadn't seen boots in years.
We wanted solitude. We got it. We made camp near
(00:49):
a stream that curled around the base of a rocky ridge.
It wasn't much, just a few tents, a fire pit,
and the hum of mosquitoes. By the time darkness settled,
we had our fill of freeze, dried chilly and cheap bourbon.
The firelight flickered off the trees and the smell of
(01:10):
wood smoke hung heavy. That's where the frogs stopped croaking,
the crickets too. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
At first, we laughed it off. Carter said maybe a
coyote was passing through. Ray tossed another log on the
(01:30):
fire and joked about the forest curfew. But even our
laughter sounded thin, like we were trying too hard to
convince ourselves everything was fine. Then came the first stone.
It rolled down the ridge, small and harmless, clicking against
(01:50):
another rock before settling in the leaves. We all turned
our heads at once, nothing just black tree and missed.
Another stone came a second later, larger, this time, it
hit the outer ring of the fire pit with a clang.
Sparks jumped. Now, I'd spent enough time outdoors to know
(02:15):
animals sometimes knock things loose, but this wasn't that. There
was a rhythm to it, precision. Carter grabbed his flashlight
and swung the beam up the slope. The light didn't
reach far before the fog swallowed it whole, but for
half a heartbeat I saw something, something crouched low on
(02:39):
the ridge. Broad shoulders, long arms, a shape too big,
too upright, too still to be anything I'd seen before. Bear.
Ray whispered, No, no bear I'd ever seen weighted like that.
The air got heavier, thicker, like we were standing under
(03:02):
a storm that hadn't yet decided to break. Then came
a sound that hit us deep in the chest, a low,
rolling growl, so deep it felt like the ground itself
was humming. We froze cameras, flashlights, even the three fifty
(03:22):
seven ray always carried. None of it came to mind
or to hand. It was like that sound reacted inside
each of us and switched off whatever part of the
brain controls movement. Another rock came down, this one the
size of a baseball. It slammed into the dirt right
(03:46):
between our boots, sprang gravel and ash hey. Carter yelled
more out of reflex than bravery. That's when everything changed.
The ridge erupted in motion, branches snapping, stones, skidding, a
shadow shifting against the night sky. It let out a
(04:07):
sound halfway between a roar and a scream, something wild
and furious and intelligent. I'll never forget that part. It
wasn't just noise, It meant something. Back up, I shouted,
grabbing the lantern. A rock whistled through the air and
struck j D's square across the cheek. The sound was sickening,
(04:29):
a hollow thud followed by a gasp. He staggered back,
hand pressed to his face. When it came away, there
was blood glinting in the firelight. Jesus, he hit me,
He hit me. J D shouted. Another rock came, then another.
They weren't random. Whoever or whatever was up there was aiming.
(04:54):
Each throw landed closer to the fire, more deliberate, more furious.
Carter raised the flashlight again, hands shaking. The beam caught
it just for an instant, But that instant changed everything,
everything I thought I knew about what hides in the wilderness.
(05:16):
It was standing now, not crouched, not hiding, standing tall
at the ridge's edge, silhouetted against the faint lights of
a clouded moon, seven maybe eight feet high, hair long
and dark, clinging to its frame. Its eyes glowed with
(05:37):
an amber hue that seemed to burn even through the mist.
It made a sound again, shorter this time, sharper, almost
like words, but not a growl that rose into a
howl that made every nerve in my body scream. Run.
(05:57):
Ray grabbed JD by the arm, and we backed toward
the tree line. But the thing moved along the ridge
with us, staying above, matching our pace. Every few steps
it had let another rock fly, some striking trunks, others
zipping through the air, close enough to hear them buzz.
(06:18):
One rock clipped my shoulder. I felt the impact deep
in the bone, enough to spin me halfway around. It
wasn't trying to scare us anymore. It wanted us gone,
or worse, lights off, I hissed. We killed the beams
and ducked behind a log, the fire casting long shadows
(06:39):
across the clearing. I could still see the ridge through
the flickering orange, its silhouette moving, shifting, almost gliding along
the edge. Then it stopped. For a few seconds. Everything
was still, just the crackle of fire and the distant
(06:59):
rush of the stream. I thought maybe it had left,
maybe the storm had passed. Then came a sound that
cut straight through the quiet, A deep, guttural breath, drawn
in slow, deliberate gulps, like it was smelling the air,
smelling us. Ray whispered, We've got to go. But before
(07:24):
we could move, a tree limb thick as my wrist
snapped off from above and slammed into the dirt beside us.
It wasn't thrown by gravity, it was hurled. We bolted.
The trail was chaos, branches whipping our faces, boots sliding
through mud. Behind us came the sound of breaking limbs,
(07:48):
heavy footfalls, and that awful throat growl that carried through
the forest like thunder. Rolling down a mountain. We didn't talk,
We didn't look back. We just ran. At one point
Carter tripped, I grabbed his pack and yanked him to
(08:09):
his feet. A rock exploded against a tree trunk inches
from where his head had just been. Shards of bark
hit my neck like shrapnel. Whatever was chasing us knew
these woods better than we ever could. Every time we
changed directions, it mirrored us, always a few paces behind,
(08:32):
never fully visible, just the sound, the motion, the dread.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
We burst into a small clearing where the fog hung
low and pale, glowing faintly under the moon. The air
was still again, no footsteps, no growls, only the pounding
(08:56):
of our hearts. We didn't camp that night, didn't even speak.
We sat in a circle, backs to each other, waiting
for dawn, like children afraid of the dark. Jad's face
had swollen where the rock hit him, but he was alive.
We all were somehow. When the first light crept through
(09:19):
the trees. We packed up in silence. None of us
mentioned what we'd seen or thought we'd seen. Some things
you can't put into words without feeling like you've just
lost your grip on reason. By mid morning we reached
the ranger station. We must have looked like we'd been
(09:41):
through hell, mud covered, pale eyes wide. The ranger, an
older guy with a gray beard, listened as we stumbled
through our story. When we finished, he poured himself a
cup of coffee against the counter and said nothing for
(10:03):
a long time. Finally he nodded toward the ridge we
just come from. You boys picked the wrong side of
that mountain, he said. Locals call it the Ridge of Watchers.
Stories go back generations, miners, loggers, hunters. Folks go up
(10:26):
there after dark. They come back different, if they come
back at all. Ray asked, what is it? The ranger
just stared at him, and then stared back at his coffee.
Some things out there, remember before we came here. They
don't like to be remembered.
Speaker 2 (10:47):
Back.
Speaker 1 (10:49):
We left without another word. I've told that story around
plenty of fires since then. Usually the folks who think
I'm pulling their leg they laugh. Call it a bear
an elk, maybe even a trick of the shadows, and
I laugh along because that's easier than trying to explain
(11:11):
the sound that thing made, or the way those eyes
burned through the dark like embers that never died. But
sometimes late at night, when the woods go still and
the frogs cut off mid croak, I can feel it again,
the weight of the ridge above me, the sense that
(11:34):
something enormous is watching from the tree line, waiting for
me to remember. And every time the fire pops and
throws a spark, I can almost hear it, breathing, slow
and steady, somewhere out there, just beyond the light. That's
when I stop talking, lean back and listen, because if
(11:59):
you've ever been cleared to know it's real, you learn
the silence isn't empty, it's listening, and it still waits
up there on the ridge. Hey, everybody, thanks so much
(12:20):
for listening to bigfoots Wilderness. Before you head out, be
sure to check out another great bigfoot channel, We're Bigfoot RUMs.
Dave's latest tale, The Toolbox Meadow Bigfoot is one you
don't want to miss. Thanks again for listening and for
being a part of the wilderness. I'm Mike and I'm
wishing you a peaceful night and a little mystery under
(12:41):
the stars. We'll see you next week right here on
Bigfoots Wilderness. Take care.
Speaker 2 (13:19):
To ask the court com
You ever noticed how the woods can go quiet in
an instant, Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful,
but the kind that feels aware, like something just stepped
into the clearing and everything living just decided it was
better to shut up and listen. That's how it started.
That night up in the Cascades. There were four of us, me, Ray,
(00:27):
j D and Carter, old high school buddies who thought
we'd shake off middle age with a week end backpacking trip.
We'd follow a narrow trail that wasn't on any map,
the kind that looked like it hadn't seen boots in years.
We wanted solitude. We got it. We made camp near
(00:49):
a stream that curled around the base of a rocky ridge.
It wasn't much, just a few tents, a fire pit,
and the hum of mosquitoes. By the time darkness settled,
we had our fill of freeze, dried chilly and cheap bourbon.
The firelight flickered off the trees and the smell of
(01:10):
wood smoke hung heavy. That's where the frogs stopped croaking,
the crickets too. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
At first, we laughed it off. Carter said maybe a
coyote was passing through. Ray tossed another log on the
(01:30):
fire and joked about the forest curfew. But even our
laughter sounded thin, like we were trying too hard to
convince ourselves everything was fine. Then came the first stone.
It rolled down the ridge, small and harmless, clicking against
(01:50):
another rock before settling in the leaves. We all turned
our heads at once, nothing just black tree and missed.
Another stone came a second later, larger, this time, it
hit the outer ring of the fire pit with a clang.
Sparks jumped. Now, I'd spent enough time outdoors to know
(02:15):
animals sometimes knock things loose, but this wasn't that. There
was a rhythm to it, precision. Carter grabbed his flashlight
and swung the beam up the slope. The light didn't
reach far before the fog swallowed it whole, but for
half a heartbeat I saw something, something crouched low on
(02:39):
the ridge. Broad shoulders, long arms, a shape too big,
too upright, too still to be anything I'd seen before. Bear.
Ray whispered, No, no bear I'd ever seen weighted like that.
The air got heavier, thicker, like we were standing under
(03:02):
a storm that hadn't yet decided to break. Then came
a sound that hit us deep in the chest, a low,
rolling growl, so deep it felt like the ground itself
was humming. We froze cameras, flashlights, even the three fifty
(03:22):
seven ray always carried. None of it came to mind
or to hand. It was like that sound reacted inside
each of us and switched off whatever part of the
brain controls movement. Another rock came down, this one the
size of a baseball. It slammed into the dirt right
(03:46):
between our boots, sprang gravel and ash hey. Carter yelled
more out of reflex than bravery. That's when everything changed.
The ridge erupted in motion, branches snapping, stones, skidding, a
shadow shifting against the night sky. It let out a
(04:07):
sound halfway between a roar and a scream, something wild
and furious and intelligent. I'll never forget that part. It
wasn't just noise, It meant something. Back up, I shouted,
grabbing the lantern. A rock whistled through the air and
struck j D's square across the cheek. The sound was sickening,
(04:29):
a hollow thud followed by a gasp. He staggered back,
hand pressed to his face. When it came away, there
was blood glinting in the firelight. Jesus, he hit me,
He hit me. J D shouted. Another rock came, then another.
They weren't random. Whoever or whatever was up there was aiming.
(04:54):
Each throw landed closer to the fire, more deliberate, more furious.
Carter raised the flashlight again, hands shaking. The beam caught
it just for an instant, But that instant changed everything,
everything I thought I knew about what hides in the wilderness.
(05:16):
It was standing now, not crouched, not hiding, standing tall
at the ridge's edge, silhouetted against the faint lights of
a clouded moon, seven maybe eight feet high, hair long
and dark, clinging to its frame. Its eyes glowed with
(05:37):
an amber hue that seemed to burn even through the mist.
It made a sound again, shorter this time, sharper, almost
like words, but not a growl that rose into a
howl that made every nerve in my body scream. Run.
(05:57):
Ray grabbed JD by the arm, and we backed toward
the tree line. But the thing moved along the ridge
with us, staying above, matching our pace. Every few steps
it had let another rock fly, some striking trunks, others
zipping through the air, close enough to hear them buzz.
(06:18):
One rock clipped my shoulder. I felt the impact deep
in the bone, enough to spin me halfway around. It
wasn't trying to scare us anymore. It wanted us gone,
or worse, lights off, I hissed. We killed the beams
and ducked behind a log, the fire casting long shadows
(06:39):
across the clearing. I could still see the ridge through
the flickering orange, its silhouette moving, shifting, almost gliding along
the edge. Then it stopped. For a few seconds. Everything
was still, just the crackle of fire and the distant
(06:59):
rush of the stream. I thought maybe it had left,
maybe the storm had passed. Then came a sound that
cut straight through the quiet, A deep, guttural breath, drawn
in slow, deliberate gulps, like it was smelling the air,
smelling us. Ray whispered, We've got to go. But before
(07:24):
we could move, a tree limb thick as my wrist
snapped off from above and slammed into the dirt beside us.
It wasn't thrown by gravity, it was hurled. We bolted.
The trail was chaos, branches whipping our faces, boots sliding
through mud. Behind us came the sound of breaking limbs,
(07:48):
heavy footfalls, and that awful throat growl that carried through
the forest like thunder. Rolling down a mountain. We didn't talk,
We didn't look back. We just ran. At one point
Carter tripped, I grabbed his pack and yanked him to
(08:09):
his feet. A rock exploded against a tree trunk inches
from where his head had just been. Shards of bark
hit my neck like shrapnel. Whatever was chasing us knew
these woods better than we ever could. Every time we
changed directions, it mirrored us, always a few paces behind,
(08:32):
never fully visible, just the sound, the motion, the dread.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
We burst into a small clearing where the fog hung
low and pale, glowing faintly under the moon. The air
was still again, no footsteps, no growls, only the pounding
(08:56):
of our hearts. We didn't camp that night, didn't even speak.
We sat in a circle, backs to each other, waiting
for dawn, like children afraid of the dark. Jad's face
had swollen where the rock hit him, but he was alive.
We all were somehow. When the first light crept through
(09:19):
the trees. We packed up in silence. None of us
mentioned what we'd seen or thought we'd seen. Some things
you can't put into words without feeling like you've just
lost your grip on reason. By mid morning we reached
the ranger station. We must have looked like we'd been
(09:41):
through hell, mud covered, pale eyes wide. The ranger, an
older guy with a gray beard, listened as we stumbled
through our story. When we finished, he poured himself a
cup of coffee against the counter and said nothing for
(10:03):
a long time. Finally he nodded toward the ridge we
just come from. You boys picked the wrong side of
that mountain, he said. Locals call it the Ridge of Watchers.
Stories go back generations, miners, loggers, hunters. Folks go up
(10:26):
there after dark. They come back different, if they come
back at all. Ray asked, what is it? The ranger
just stared at him, and then stared back at his coffee.
Some things out there, remember before we came here. They
don't like to be remembered.
Speaker 2 (10:47):
Back.
Speaker 1 (10:49):
We left without another word. I've told that story around
plenty of fires since then. Usually the folks who think
I'm pulling their leg they laugh. Call it a bear
an elk, maybe even a trick of the shadows, and
I laugh along because that's easier than trying to explain
(11:11):
the sound that thing made, or the way those eyes
burned through the dark like embers that never died. But
sometimes late at night, when the woods go still and
the frogs cut off mid croak, I can feel it again,
the weight of the ridge above me, the sense that
(11:34):
something enormous is watching from the tree line, waiting for
me to remember. And every time the fire pops and
throws a spark, I can almost hear it, breathing, slow
and steady, somewhere out there, just beyond the light. That's
when I stop talking, lean back and listen, because if
(11:59):
you've ever been cleared to know it's real, you learn
the silence isn't empty, it's listening, and it still waits
up there on the ridge. Hey, everybody, thanks so much
(12:20):
for listening to bigfoots Wilderness. Before you head out, be
sure to check out another great bigfoot channel, We're Bigfoot RUMs.
Dave's latest tale, The Toolbox Meadow Bigfoot is one you
don't want to miss. Thanks again for listening and for
being a part of the wilderness. I'm Mike and I'm
wishing you a peaceful night and a little mystery under
(12:41):
the stars. We'll see you next week right here on
Bigfoots Wilderness. Take care.
Speaker 2 (13:19):
To ask the court com
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