Published May 2, 2004 12:00AM
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Dispatches, July 1997
Yoo-hoo! Mr. Sasquatch!
Debonair woodsman Peter Byrne hones in on his elusive, malodorous prey By Robert Sullivan When the news came last April, it sounded like a death knell in the search for America’s signature mythic beast: The Bigfoot Research Project, purportedly the most scientific of the outfits engaged in the hunt for Sasquatch, had closed its headquarters near Oregon’s Mount Hood. But Peter Byrne, the project’s 71-year-old director, insists that this is not the end of his search for the elusive hominid; it’s merely the conclusion of his most recent phase. By the end of summer, Byrne plans to have his next bigfoot project up and running. Or at least that’s what the Irish native is now saying. He is seated in the living room of his bungalow in downtown Portland, nattily dressed in his trademark khaki shirt and maroon ascot. His manner is coolly colonial, reinforced by the British accent he acquired decades ago through a stint with the RAF. “We’ve confirmed to our satisfaction,” he proclaims crisply, “that these things do exist.” The project, Byrne says, shut down because its sponsor, the Boston-based Academy of Applied Science, decided not to renew its $500,000 grant. “They were disappointed with the extent of our findings,” he says matter-of-factly, “and they felt that we had spent enough money.” Certainly the expenditures were great. The project maintained four four-wheel-drive vehicles, a snowmobile, two helicopters on 24-hour standby, and a cargo-van-cum-high-tech-assault-vehicle known as the BMB (for Bigfoot Mobile Base). The greatest expense, however — the one Byrne was counting on to provide hard proof to the Academy — was a $250,000 surveillance system installed in 1995. The underground sensors that triggered its cameras were designed to detect the movement of large beings within a 100-foot radius; the cameras would then relay images back from the field. Unfortunately, Byrne says, the system was cursed — power lines interfered with signals, a camera was struck by lightning — and in the end he had nothing more to show his detractors than images of several not-so-elusive inhabitants of the Northwest’s forests, such as black-tailed deer. “What we did achieve was small,” Byrne admits. “Our research merely confirmed things we already knew. For instance, we now know that these creatures do go out in the open.” Byrne bases this conclusion on more than 1,000 interviews conducted with folks who claim to have encountered the beasts. Of those, he has classified 125 as category A, or extremely credible sightings, and another 350 as category B, or credible but less definite encounters. Most of the A sightings were reported by people with significant outdoor experience, such as the retired state Fish and Wildlife Service officer who spotted something big and hairy in central Oregon late one night and noted especially the stench that Byrne says is a definitive bigfoot calling card. “He said that he’d smelled dead animals of all kinds,” Byrne recalls, “but never anything like this.” Another A sighting came from a man hunting in the foothills beneath Mount St. Helens. “He said it walked up the road and looked back at him like this.” Byrne hunches up his shoulders and slowly turns his head. “He picked up on what many people notice — this beautiful, athletic stride.” During his hiatus, Byrne plans to polish up three manuscripts he completed while holed up near Mount Hood, including an account of his 1950s yeti-hunting treks in the Himalayas. He also intends to finalize matters with his new sponsor, an unnamed individual who Byrne hopes will provide at least $1 million. “I’m more convinced than ever,” Byrne says, the spark of the Great White Hunter gleaming in his eyes, “and I’m not about to give up now.” Illustration by Chip Wass |