Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Sasquatches & Their Tactical Use of Long Range Acoustics

I've been "blasted" many times by sasquatches in the Mololla Recreational Corridor (pictured above).


 
Here I am (below) with Kevin Jones "The Colonel." I met Kevin for the first time about ten minutes before this picture was taken at Sasquatch Revealed, which took place at the Discovery Center in The Dalles, Oregon.
 
 
Kevin told me about some very interesting accounts of people suffering from infrasound exposure that had been inflicted by sasquatches. 
 
A few of these victims have been successfully treated by military hospitals that specialize in treating such injuries because doctors there have experience with side-effects from military-based infrasound activities.
 
Based upon the descriptions Kevin offered of such injuries, I'm fairly sure that I have suffered from similar symptoms that were caused by bigfooting. 
 
Primarily, sasquatches use infrasound (ultra low frequencies) to hunt and to communicate with each other over fairly long distances
 
For me, there is nothing worse than getting "blasted" by several sasquatches at once. Ouch!  Get me out of here!!!!!  Blasting is quite common in two of the areas where I have tended to squatch (Goat Mountain near Estacada and the farthest reaches of the Molalla River Recreational Corridor). Sasquatches in both of these locales tend to "blast first and ask questions later."
 
Freeman Footage of a Sasquatch
 
By this, I mean that they blast quite freely and don't really consider the health and wellbeing of the person they are blasting. I am fairly sure they know how blasting can disable and even kill some people. (Of course, in their defense, the area is full of human rednecks with guns target practicing, and I'm sure if most of these rednecks happened to see a sasquatch then they would blast first and ask questions later, as well.) 
 
Based upon one of the eyewitness accounts that Kevin offered, saquatches have been known to try and help a downed person that has been injured by blasting (infrasound).
 
Exposure to robust ultra low frequencies can be debilitating, especially to those with sensitive hearts and other organs affected by infrasound. In cases of extreme exposure ("cross-blasting," which will be discussed later in this article), even a healthy person can be injured or murdered.
 
Kevin mentioned one old guy that went down for the count, and afterwards, the sasquatch responsible hollered so that some people would hear and come to the old man's aid. 
 
As for long range acoustic device (LRAD) blasting in other non-squatch-related situations, I think it's possible that some branch or other of the US government has been experimenting with infrasound up in the Molalla River and Goat Mountain areas. 
 

 
 
What is "Infrasound?"
 
Infrasound, also known as low-frequency sound (or Ultra Low Frequency Sound "ULF") is sound that is lower in frequency than 20 Hz (Hertz) or cycles per second, which constitutes the "normal" limit of human hearing.

The human ear becomes less sensitive as any frequency decreases.  Thus, for humans to perceive infrasound, the sound pressure must be sufficiently high. The ear is our main organ for sensing infrasound, but at higher intensities it is possible to feel infrasound vibrations in various parts of the body. Stand next to a big woofer at a rock concert, and you'll catch the basic gist of what I'm talking about.

The study of such sound waves is known as infrasonics, describing sounds beneath 20 Hz down to 0.001 Hz. This frequency range is used to monitor earthquakes, chart rock and petroleum formations below the earth, and also in ballistocardiography and seismocardiography to study the mechanics of the heart. Infrasound is characterized by an ability to cover long distances and get around obstacles with little dissipation.

 
 
My Personal Experiences with Bigfoot Infrasound
 
On one occasion, after some especially nasty and seemingly random blasting that covered an entire hillside, my friend Bjorn and I were treated to a couple of old "MASH-style" helicopters that hovered over the hill next to us at night for over an hour. It was quite annoying as we were trying to cook our food over the campfire just after dusk.
 
No search lights were used above at all, aside from on us! I can only assume the copters were mostly using FLIR (forward looking infra red) technology for some purpose, which could admittedly have had to do with sasquatches that tend to blast very powerfully and very freely in the area. Military censor technology could have easily picked up huge blasts on that day if they were not military-related due to some sort of experiment and/or testing of new technology.
 
The upper fork Molalla River, a place where I have been blasted by sasquatches to the point of almost passing out.
 
When you are squatch-blasted out in the middle of nowhere, panic can set in. Yes, sometimes they follow you and continue to blast mercilessly to get you out of their territory. This trail (above illustration) is found in the upper fork of the Molalla River where I have been literally terrorized by infrasound to the point of wondering if I would make it out alive.
 
Eventually, I learned my lesson. I don't hike very far away from my Jeep there any longer. I would venture to say that during the four year period when I hiked there often, sasquatches came to recognize me, and reacted by applying extra strong doses of infrasound to discourage me from returning. They knew that I wasn't merely hiking or recreating: I was studying them, and making quite a bit of progress towards understanding their territorial marking practices, hunting techniques, vocalization patterns, and their use of recon when presented with a human target who was able to roughly approximate their calls well enough to "bring them closer" for a look-see.  
 

Molalla River Basin from up "on high" atop pinnacles and cliffs where sasquatches sleep with confidence during the daytime
 
In this particular valley, echoes proved to be the key. By bouncing my own natural and amplified "bigfoot calls" off opposite hillsides from where sasquatches tended to come down around dusk from the higher ground (most likely caves), I was able to fool them well enough to get them to come to me.
 
The Molalla river canyon is home to caves set high up in cliff faces. If you ever find one (assumedly with ropes and mountain climbing gear), approach at your own risk; most cave entrances are narrow--more like clefts, which can be hidden with branches, stones, or logs. Caves are prime real estate; even if families of sasquatches are not using them, other top tier predators might be. Sasquatches are quite rare in any given location that is known for recent sightings and/or activity: usually one extended family per watershed. So your chances of encountering a cougar or a bear would be much higher if you blunder into a cave than coming face to face with a gigantic hominoid. 
 
Over time, they recognized the calls as being a sign that I was in the area, but they came anyway--assumedly with the intent of getting me out of their territory. This dynamic was a far cry from "habitualization." Rather, it was a form of harassment, but it did provide the opportunity for intereactions with this extremely reclusive species.
 
The price eventually became too high for me, as the sasquatches showed less and less patience in regard to my antics. Some people might say that I "got what I deserved" insofar as their use of more and more intense infrasound. Despite this fact, I have to admit that they didn't kill me.
 
At least I have that to be grateful for. If I had been a sasquatch and they had been humans, the end result probably would have been less amiable, if begrudgingly so. They certainly could have murdered me. I was quite vulnerable, particularly after nightfall. This said, they also seemed to regard me with amusement at times, as well. I was obviously vulnerable and weak to them, and yet I "kept on a-comin."
 
 
Freeman Footage (Paul was most likely blasted while filming this footage in the above Youtube clip). I suspect very young sasquatch juveniles were present on location, and the adult male (filmed) was purposefully distracting Paul so that Paul did not notice little ones.
 
The exaggerated shoulder movements and strides of the adult male are not typical of sasquatch behavior that I have observed on a few separate occasions. I feel this creature is "posturing" to send a visual message to Paul: "I am here and I am NOT happy with you!"
 
 
Most of the time, when you see a sasquatch, you are meant to see that particular sasquatch. The creatures move with military precision when manipulating a target. They can reconnoiter, flank, present a token decoy, and herd one or more targets just like humans tend to do when hunting game, or apprehending other humans through the use of military and police forces. 
 
When you find yourself being circled by three or four sasquatches, it is quite an experience, particularly when they do not feel overtly threatened by your presence and are more apt to "toy" with you. In such cases, they might throw objects, make audible calls to each other (in lieu of sub-sonic calls below the range of human hearing), snap branches, and/or prod you with the use of infrasound to see how you react. Rock and tree knocking is normally done from father away than during a recon mission.
 
Goat Mountain, Clackamas County, Oregon
 
Up near Goat Mountain, three sasquatches once circled my camp after dark and vocalized with mourning dove calls. There was a good reason for this fact; I had been making the calls for the past hour to bring them in. I called back to them, and they reacted with surprisingly loud calls (much louder than an actual bird, and also between 2-10 feet off the ground (as opposed to higher up where birds would tend to land). The game went on for nearly twenty minutes.
 
On another occasion, in the Molalla Rec Corridor, a sasquatch threw a huge piece of dried  punkie wood over my head in broad daylight. The object hissed loudly as it arced about ten yards over my head, and then crashed into some logging debris about thirty yards down the hill from where I was sitting. Based up the hiss and the object's trajectory, I was able to ascertain the general area from whence it had been thrown (from a very steep bank high above me). 
 
Sasquatches' consistent choice to circle a new target for recon, appraising the target for weaknesses and potential threats, is similar also of Native American warriors over a hundred years ago when European encroachment threatened their villages and nations. Sasquatches are quite interested to see if you are carrying a side arm, and they might provoke you into order to see if you reach for it. 
 
Sasquatch recon techniques can make the human equivalent seem clumsy and primitive by comparison. Yes, they have unique "toys," as well, such as multi-faceted applications of infrasound.
 
As for the Freeman Footage, the thoughts I've shared with you are merely a theory, of course, since no juveniles were filmed or detected by Paul.
 
At any rate, as might be expected, when sasquatch children are present the likelihood of powerful (and dangerous) infrasound "blasting" goes up exponentially.
 
 
 
By the time you get this close to a sasquatch, either the one you see or another nearby will most likely be blasting you. This is worth keeping in mind if you go squatching. I strongly suspect that some people have passed out and even died from being squatch-blasted. In such cases, the cause of death would most likely be overlooked and not reported. Even an autopsy would be inconclusive because the MD performing the autopsy would not be trained to look for organ failure aggravated by ultra low frequency trauma.
 
Most people don't understand why they feel an urgent need to leave an area when blasted. Campers can sometimes flee their camp and leave tents and supplies in terror.
 
If one or more sasquatches want you out of an area, they can follow you and "cross blast" you (one or more on each side) to keep you moving. This can be quite dangerous. It will speed up your heart-rate and affect your central nervous system.
 

 
Cross-blasting intensifies ultra-sound side-effects dramatically. I believe sasquatches are sophisticated enough to fix upon a focal point together in order to facilitate effects on the target that otherwise would not be possible with merely one sasquatch blasting that target. Infrasound application can also affect brain function. It is my suspicion that it can even cause subjects to hallucinate.
 
Such applications might even trigger "disassociation" from a perceived target, thus allowing a sasquatch to appear invisible. I have thought long and hard about the sasquatch "invisibility variable."
 
Yes, forest giants do seem to be able to cloak themselves, particularly when fleeing a scene from a curious or an aggressively predatory human or group of humans. Infrasound might very well be the way sasquatches create relative "invisibility."
 
 
In such cases, the fleeing sasquatch is most likely not the one applying the infrasound. Rather, it would be other sasquatches focusing "cross-blasting" techniques upon one or more human target(s).
 
It is worth mentioning here that ultra-low frequencies (a.k.a "infrasound") can travel through the walls of buildings, the exteriors of vehicles, and even through a forest that contains dense foliage and tree configurations.
 
 
Of course, infrasound subterfuge used to achieve invisibility (relatively-speaking) would not explain how bigfoot tracks seem to vanish, as well, at precisely the location where the sasquatch in question seemed to disappear.
 
Bigfoot tracks often corroborate eyewitness impressions, even to the point of stopping in the middle of a field right where a witnesses saw a sasquatch "disappear." Infrasound would not explain this sort of phenomenon, but it might explain other types of examples, such as when a bigfoot steps behind a relatively skinny tree and then seems to vanish from sight.
 
 
Bigfoot research is symbolically like peeling an onion.
 
In this way, bigfoot research is not unlike peeling an onion. Just when you feel confident you've gotten through one facet of the mystery, another conundrum presents itself. And, yes, peeling that onion does sometimes cause its share of "tears" (i.e. frustration in general, and even trauma like infrasound exposure that has been experienced in the field). 
 
 
NATIVES  KNOW  BEST
 
 
Native American totem poles and other artwork, such as masks and statuary, could symbolically depict sasquatch defensive and offensive infrasound "blasting," which is interpreted by most anthropologists as mere whistling.
 


  
Could these works of art symbolically represent the way sasquatches wield powerful weapons by emitting ultra low frequencies that help them communicate with each other, hunt wild game like deer and elk, as well as discouraging human contact? I certainly think so.
 

 
 
It's worth noting that other large mammals like whales, elephants, and rhinos use infrasound for similar reasons. The average bigfoot male has been estimated to weigh between 800-1000 pounds. 
 
This article on the BFRO website discusses the estimated height and weight of bigfoots. Body mass is certainly a deciding factor in any animal's ability to generate infrasound. 
 
2008 "futuristic" Discovery Channel special on acoustic weapons is totally behind the times, but still quite interesting because at the time it was made the government was not yet hush-hushing the use of infrasound in military and police applications. The future is now. 
 
HUMAN USES FOR (AND ABUSES OF)
INFRASOUND TECHNOLOGIES 
 
As for modern human applications of infrasound "technology," Long Range Acoustic Devices (LRAD) can be used anywhere: in ships, underwater, in aircraft, in buildings, on cars and trucks, etc. Next time you see one, pay attention. They are dangerous technology that can certainly pose health risks. They can even be deadly. 
 
 As Kate Bush's video (above) from way back in the 1980's points out, acoustics can also be used in torture and mind control applications. 
 
One thing is certain: LRAD hurts!  I have been blasted on one occasion during a parade in downtown Portland. I never saw the cannon but I sure felt it. The sensation was nearly identical to squatch blasting. I even think the military technology could have been developed through the observation and imitation of squatch blasting.
 
 
The parade happened to march by a building that I am certain had experimental equipment in it, and this equipment was used.  The feeling was so unpleasant for me, that I left the parade instantly to get out of range of the sound cannon. I wouldn't be at all surprised if my reaction to infrasound was observed and noted by people upstairs in the building (heretofore unnamed) that the parade was passing. 
 
It was very upsetting to be blasted by a device that was purchased with my own tax dollars when I was doing absolutely nothing wrong at all in a peaceful march that was quite kind and harmonious, as well as being zoned legally, complete with police escorts.
 
 
 
I'm not saying that whoever directed LRAD at the parade that day was trying to hurt anyone. Because I had been exposed to sasquatch blasting, I was especially sensitive to the ultra low frequency sound cannon that I feel was directed at the crowd, probably from one of the buildings pictured (above).
 
It's worth pointing out here that LRAD is a relatively new technology to law enforcement and operators might not understand the dangers such "experiments" or "tests" on crowds could pose.
 
LRAD technology can be deadly, even when it is merely intended to influence behavior choices, particularly on the part of crowds
 
By the way LRAD are also called "sound cannons" and "sonic weaponry." I feel such devices constitute a dangerous technology that is inhumane and should not be used on crowds, unless those crowds are breaking the law and doing violent things.
 
 
Here a long range acoustic device is being used on a crowd from the back of a relatively small pickup. This shows how portable the devices are becoming.


LRAD is being used around the world these days to disperse crowds. It made a big media splash in autumn of 2009 when the technology was used to keep protestors from swarming around police barricades at the G20 Summit, which took place in Pittsburgh PA.
 
The Summit had a very big "off limits" radius as a precautionary measure based upon what had happened in Seattle WA during the World Trade Organization meetings there. In this way, infrasound has already gained a reputation for being symbolic of the direction corporate-controlled governments are heading.
 
Pittsburgh police had no problem "blasting" a lot of people that weekend in order to keep representatives of the world's biggest financial "shakers and movers" from hearing even the distant cry of protestors, much less seeing them.


LRAD being directed from a ship

 
 
My novel, Kultus, mentions the way the US Navy has been using active sonor (a similar technology) in the oceans. This has affected aquatic life adversely, particularly sea mammals like dolphins and whales that suffer fatal injuries due to their sensitive organs designed to receive sonor communications from animal to animal.
 
 
Here is the passage from Kultus that mentions one man-made use of long range acoustics. Keep in mind that sasquatch use of this ability runs throughout the entirety of the novel: 
 

Chapter Twenty

 
 
Rainbow was excited. She’d never been to Seattle before, and here she was driving up I-5 only a few miles away. It was a long drive from Portland with plenty roadside attractions. Puget Sound was endless, chasing the freeway north, little fingers of blue that teased and tantalized, every now and then opening up into the palm of some vast, sprawling harbor with ocean-going vessels anchored together—each of them the size of a city block. Ballard lay hunched over to one side, snoring through his broken nose. The sound was more than a little grating, but Rainbow didn’t dare turn up the stereo any louder. If he woke up, she would have to listen to his running commentary on just about anything that popped into his head, and narcotic pain-killers did not make for interesting conversation, especially when she was the only member of a captive audience. 

In Portland, he’d sprung for three new CDs at a Tower Records. He bought one for himself, a compilation of hits from an old British punk band called The Damned and two for Rainbow. After living with Crane for the whole summer, she felt smothered by his taste in music, and wanted to reacquaint herself with the old high school days when life was unhappy but simpler. No more Bob Marley or The Dead. No more Phish. This road trip was many things, not least of which was the chance to leave hippie jam bands behind. 

Eminem’s homeboy angst blended with the open freeway, giving her time to reflect on the past few weeks. They’d gone by so quickly. She watched Ballard sleep with his mouth open, and debated how much longer she could stand being his girlfriend. Ever since the big fight things had gone downhill. His sense of humor was almost nonexistent. He rarely asked about her thoughts on much of anything, instead throwing himself wholesale into his work. Sex was complicated because of the injuries he’d sustained to his midsection. Any sort of romance in the bedroom now required a lot of positioning and repositioning with very little action in between, and this tended to put both partners out of the mood in a hurry. 

Ballard was certainly a mess, but none of the damage would be permanent—at least that’s what the doctor had said after she had driven him to the hospital in Hood River. Three cracked ribs, a broken nose, a laceration on his mouth that required eight stitches, bruised kidneys, a slipped disc in his spine—it all sounded horrible under the glaring fluorescent light of the hospital waiting room, but the doctor had insisted that it could have been a lot worse. The injuries would heal up fine if Ballard took care of himself.
 
She pushed down the gas pedal, and took a corner a little too fast. The Land Cruiser slid into the curve, throwing him against the passenger window. “Huh? What’s going on?”
 
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”




He peered out the windshield, rubbing sleepers from his eyes. “We’re here already? I must have slept the whole way.”

Industrial blight rose up on the horizon—metal arms reaching up into the gray sky, the skeletal crown of petroleum tanks, empty plane runways lined with garbage. Rainbow sighed, but she didn’t complain. Any vestige of civilization was desirable at this point. The bigger, the better. After being stuck out in the boonies, she was ready to experience everything that a teeming metropolis had to offer—the good along with the bad.

And then she caught sight of the skyline rising up in the distance, floating on the edge of Puget Sound. Skyscrapers reflected in sparkling water. Alright! This was more like it! She recognized the famous scene from watching Frazier on television. Even though the sit-com was probably filmed on a back lot in Hollywood, at least producers gave the illusion of living in Seattle with a couple of token shots around the city. And this was one of the regular shots at the beginning of the show every week, along with the credits.

“Where’s the Space Needle?” Rainbow asked.

“Queen Anne District. It’s on the other side. We’ll go right by on our way to the office. I’ll tell you which exit to take.”

“How much farther?”

“A few more miles. We’re almost there.”

Rainbow gripped the steering wheel, flexing her knuckles. A mild case of claustrophobia was beginning to set in. This was the farthest she’d ever driven without stopping. Three and a half hours. Ever since Tacoma, she’d had to pee. She glanced over at Ballard. God, he was a mess. Was he planning on getting a hotel room before he showed up at his old office? Dried blood caked on his upper lip, yellow tears dripping out of blackened eyes. The man definitely needed some cleaning up. “Are we getting a room before or after the meeting?” she asked.

“After.”

Rainbow bit her lip. “Can, uh. Can I make a suggestion? Let’s get the room first, and then you can schmooze your buddies for a donation.”

“What?” Ballard turned his head painfully to regard the vision beside him. For a second, he lost his breath. Nineteen years old. Pure energy. Sometimes he forgot how alive that could be. This girl in the driver’s seat looked unbelievable, gliding down the freeway, her blonde hair flying in the breeze, lips full and wet. She could pose for the cover of a fashion magazine. “Why are you so anxious to get a room?” he asked. “You wanna fuck?”

“Yeah, right.” She reached over, pulled down the vanity mirror on the back of the visor. “Take a look.”

Ballard squinted at the dismal reflection. “Oh, man. I see what you mean.”




Seattle's Old Town District

 

 The law offices of Northwest Environmental Advocacy Group (NEA) were located directly on Pioneer Square, about two blocks from the Sapphire Hotel. In a city of four-star prices, the hotel was refreshingly affordable yet appealing in a kitsch sort of way. Like the sign at the front desk said, “Welcome to our restored turn-of-the-century landmark. Everything here still radiates antique charm.”

 
Rainbow fell in love with their quaint room on the top floor. She tried the bed. Yes! The mattress was divine. She turned her head, gazing out through the white muslin shades. This part of town definitely had personality: The cavernous brows of storefronts with heavy oak beams; homeless people sleep-walking through the afternoon; bike messengers whizzing past. She followed a wrought-iron trellis that rose up from an old rusting balcony. Above it, a faded billboard painted on a brick wall echoed the name of some trading post from long ago.
 
In all of the excitement, she’d forgotten how badly she needed to pee. Ballard stood at the sink, watching with a detached sort of curiosity. It called to mind yet another bawdy tale, one of his favorites that he’d absorbed while on the famous “Seattle Underground Tour,” a local tourist attraction. He explained how the first toilets in America were installed right here on Pioneer Square.
 
The Seattle Water Works hooked them up directly to a sewer line that ran out into the Sound. But there had been a serious flaw in the design. Nobody thought about what would happen when the tide rose every day. It turned out to be a complete disaster. Salt water rushed back through a convoluted network of pipes, turning each crapper into a gushing fountain. Woe be to the hapless dame who sat on her throne during high tide! Before modern technology invented flow gates, many hotels in the area built towers for their crappers, a temporary stopgap to equalize water pressure. It was yet another peculiarity of Old Seattle—the tiny skyscrapers that once rose up like obscene middle fingers.
 
Rainbow tugged on the wooden handle that hung down on a chain behind the antique toilet. It flushed loudly. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” she said. After such a long drive, she felt like falling into soft sheets, leaving the windows open to the bustle outside, evoking deliciously urban dreams. “Can’t we go tomorrow?” she asked.
 
I’ve got an appointment with David at four. He’s leaving town early in the morning. Big job up north in the Straits of Juan de Fuca.”
 
“What kind of job?”
 
Ballard washed his face, and ran a comb through his hair, cautiously avoiding the bruises underneath. “The Navy’s developing some new kind of sonar-blasting device that’s killing whales. They’ve been testing it out in the Sound. NEA’s going to stop them.”
 
“How long is the meeting going to be?”
 
“I don’t know. Maybe half an hour.”
 
“Let’s take a nap afterwards. Then you can take me shopping for a dress. And then out to dinner.”
 
“Deal.”
 
While Rainbow doled out the prescription Tylenol with codeine, “two for you, one for me,” he promised to take her on a tour of the Seattle Underground after dinner. It was amusing to see the guy so excited. He leaned over, and did his best to kiss her on the mouth, but she pushed him away. “Awk! Those stitches tickle.”