Grandpa Sasquatch

Howdy doo, little saplings! Grandpa Sasquatch here, back from a jaunt higher than Mount Rainier’s dandruff. Fifteen hundred years I’ve been roaming these parts, seen glaciers come and go, salmon thicker than your grandma’s ankles, and skies so blue you could swim in ’em. But now… now I cough up soot every morning. It’s a … Read more

Hmph. Westport. Always changing, that little human village nestled ‘tween the Big Mountain and the Whispering Waters. Been watchin’ it for centuries, I have. Seen lumber barons come and go, seen fisherman haulin’ silver feasts, seen… well, seen things you youngsters wouldn’t believe. But lately, somethin’s been ticklin’ my nose, and it ain’t the wild … Read more

Harrumph. Edmonds, eh? Used to be so green. Before the metal birds came squawking and spewing. Before the… the… cough cough… PARKING LOTS. I’m Grandpa Sasquatch, been flyin’ this Puget Sound longer than those ferry boats have been chuggin’ their stink into our beautiful waters. Fifteen hundred years, give or take a few salmon seasons. … Read more

Hmph. Chinook winds are blowin’ again, whippin’ up the smell o’ that blasted paper mill. Used to be, those winds carried the scent o’ salmon runnin’ thick and cedar fresh as a newborn fir. Now? Stinks like goblin’s socks. My name’s Grandpa Sasquatch, but the young’uns call me “Featherfoot” sometimes. Don’t tell ’em I hear … Read more