Orchard spider, Leucauge venusta. Beautiful!
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Monday, May 23, 2016
Northern Sasquatch Research Society
Bill Brann, Brian Gosselin, and Rusty Aldrich of the Northern Sasquatch Research Society visited our place in Bleecker to check out where Pam and I collected so much evidence. Sadly, not much in the way of Sasquatch was seen, although our juvenile is still about.
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Bill and Brian examine Sasquatch finger marks on the cabin window
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Most of the tree bends and structures have fallen down...
But not the one I used for the book cover. Still there to greet me like an old friend.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
'Squatchin' with the Pros
On Thursday, May 12th, my host Rusty and I took a drive to Whitehall to visit Bill Brann and Brian Gosselin of the famous Abair Road sighting, which was seen by eleven people including several police officers.
Whitehall's Sasquatch statue
Researchers Bill Brann (left) and Rusty Aldrich
Whitehall's Skene Manor
This golf course was the scene of a sighting
This old telephone pole indicated the size of the Sasquatch, but being a tourist attraction, the landowner cut it down.
Bill's baby
Bill was also an archeologist
Porcupine
Pam's stump
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Speaking Of Sasquatch...
Crypto-Paracon was a real hoot. It was lightly attended, party due to the unfortunate timing of a HUGE Bigfoot conference in Ohio on the same weekend. I know of many people in New York who passed by Rome on their way. But despite that, I had a ball.
My presentation went well, I thought. I was worried about being able to fill my allotted one hour time slot, but just as I finished, my one hour was up. Made it.
It was good to see old friends, such as Steve Kulls (the Sasquatch detective) and make new ones. I've always enjoyed these kinds of events. If you ever get a chance to attend one, by all means do, even if you think that the subject of Sasquatch/UFOs/ghosts/psychics is bunk, I guarantee you'll have a good time.
Now that I've gotten my feet wet and was met with polite applause, I'm considering doing more public speaking. I used to speak quite a bit when I was in business and president of our local business improvement district and, quite honestly, I miss doing it. Especially to a receptive audience like those at Crypto-Paracon, folks who are open minded to everything weird. Rusty and Karen, my very gracious New York hosts, visit Florida each winter, and Rusty said he'd like to arrange a conference down here. I'll have to look into venues here in the Ocala area.
My presentation went well, I thought. I was worried about being able to fill my allotted one hour time slot, but just as I finished, my one hour was up. Made it.
It was good to see old friends, such as Steve Kulls (the Sasquatch detective) and make new ones. I've always enjoyed these kinds of events. If you ever get a chance to attend one, by all means do, even if you think that the subject of Sasquatch/UFOs/ghosts/psychics is bunk, I guarantee you'll have a good time.
Now that I've gotten my feet wet and was met with polite applause, I'm considering doing more public speaking. I used to speak quite a bit when I was in business and president of our local business improvement district and, quite honestly, I miss doing it. Especially to a receptive audience like those at Crypto-Paracon, folks who are open minded to everything weird. Rusty and Karen, my very gracious New York hosts, visit Florida each winter, and Rusty said he'd like to arrange a conference down here. I'll have to look into venues here in the Ocala area.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Back In New York.
Sadly, all by myself and without Pamela, the dogs, the horse and cats and goats. No RV. I flew up all alone to speak at Crypto-Paracon, a paranormal conference held this Friday and Saturday at the Kennedy Arena in Rome, NY.
Flying was, as I expected, a nightmare. We left in plenty of time, but got caught in a traffic jam near Jacksonville. I still arrived with over an hour until my flight left.
I didn't check anything. I travel light. I carried my camera, a tube of photos, and a duffle bag that weighed about 600 pounds.
After getting my boarding passes the old fashioned way, from a human, I trudged to the security check point.
Remove your shoes, empty your pockets. If you have a laptop, remove it and put it in a separate bin. Remove your belt.
Sir, empty your pockets.
My pockets are empty.
No, you have boarding passes in your back pocket.
Step into the scanner. I did. The door opened and I stepped out.
Sir, step back into the scanner.
I did. The door opened and I stepped out.
Sir, I'm going to have to pat you down. OK. He did, and then said that next time, pull your pants up.
Hey, you told me to remove my belt.
Another security guard was rummaging through my bag. She gleefully produces my boy scout pocket knife that's been in my shaving kit since I was eight years old.
You can't bring this on the plane.
OK fine, toss it. Then she grabs my new can of shaving cream.
You can't have this.
Why? Will I vandalize the plane and passengers with it?
Finally clearing security, I hoist my 600 pound dufflebag, photos, and camera and start my 17 mile trek to gate C10. I got there as they were finishing boarding. I got on with all my crap, stuffed my camera under my seat, the middle one, and then looked for a place for my 600 pound dufflebag. All of the compartments were full. With some difficulty, I made room and stuffed it and my photos in. I sat in the middle seat. I prefer the window seat, but at least I could see out of the window partly. OK, I can do this.
The young man next to me was hung over. His head was on his lap. He reached up, grabbed the shade, shut it, and went to sleep.
Such was the start of my trip. The second leg, from Charlotte to Syracuse, wasn't as bad. I even took the pic up above. But just before I took it, we were passed by another jet less than a quarter mile away. I missed that shot. But no matter. I'm here in Rome. I'm meeting Bill Brann and Brian Gosselin of Whitehall fame today. I speak at Crypto-Paracon Friday and Saturday, down day on Sunday, and fly home on Monday.
I'm checking the 600 pound dufflebag.
Flying was, as I expected, a nightmare. We left in plenty of time, but got caught in a traffic jam near Jacksonville. I still arrived with over an hour until my flight left.
I didn't check anything. I travel light. I carried my camera, a tube of photos, and a duffle bag that weighed about 600 pounds.
After getting my boarding passes the old fashioned way, from a human, I trudged to the security check point.
Remove your shoes, empty your pockets. If you have a laptop, remove it and put it in a separate bin. Remove your belt.
Sir, empty your pockets.
My pockets are empty.
No, you have boarding passes in your back pocket.
Step into the scanner. I did. The door opened and I stepped out.
Sir, step back into the scanner.
I did. The door opened and I stepped out.
Sir, I'm going to have to pat you down. OK. He did, and then said that next time, pull your pants up.
Hey, you told me to remove my belt.
Another security guard was rummaging through my bag. She gleefully produces my boy scout pocket knife that's been in my shaving kit since I was eight years old.
You can't bring this on the plane.
OK fine, toss it. Then she grabs my new can of shaving cream.
You can't have this.
Why? Will I vandalize the plane and passengers with it?
Finally clearing security, I hoist my 600 pound dufflebag, photos, and camera and start my 17 mile trek to gate C10. I got there as they were finishing boarding. I got on with all my crap, stuffed my camera under my seat, the middle one, and then looked for a place for my 600 pound dufflebag. All of the compartments were full. With some difficulty, I made room and stuffed it and my photos in. I sat in the middle seat. I prefer the window seat, but at least I could see out of the window partly. OK, I can do this.
The young man next to me was hung over. His head was on his lap. He reached up, grabbed the shade, shut it, and went to sleep.
Such was the start of my trip. The second leg, from Charlotte to Syracuse, wasn't as bad. I even took the pic up above. But just before I took it, we were passed by another jet less than a quarter mile away. I missed that shot. But no matter. I'm here in Rome. I'm meeting Bill Brann and Brian Gosselin of Whitehall fame today. I speak at Crypto-Paracon Friday and Saturday, down day on Sunday, and fly home on Monday.
I'm checking the 600 pound dufflebag.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
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