UPDATE: Samantha13950 says she isn't interested in "[getting] involved in a news story," but she did tell us where the footage was taken, and with what:
"I will let you know that we were in downriver park where the big hill starts to flatten out down by the river. The video is from my iphone. I was filming my friends slapping at ginormous mosquitoes and trying to get through some thick weeds."
There's no visible slapping of mosquitoes in the video, but it would be reasonable to edit that out when the focus of the video shifted from insects to a giant lumbering figure in the woods. The comment string on the video is already full of cryptid hunters debating the merits of the video, so we'll leave the analysis to them. (The best conversation happens between someone named BFResearchSE and someone named DistendedPerineum, for what that's worth.)
We'd just ask someone to let big foot know that the disc golf course is on the other side of the river.
It's not wreaking havoc like the Mississippi River by any means, or all those little creeks in southeastern Montana that are really screwing people on the Crow reservation, but the Spokane River has officially topped flood stage, and may just haveflushed one of nature's most (only?) elusive (fictional?) man-apes into the open.
Yesterday, a YouTube user with the handle Samantha13950 posted a video that shows hikers wending their way down to the river. The video then goes dark and asks, "did you see it?" The video resets and plays again, in slow motion. Yep, sure enough. In the upper right corner — conveniently and beautifully illuminated by a ray of sunlight — a black, hulking
man in a gorilla suit real effing sasquatch!!!???!! figure of unknown provenance walks through the frame:
Samantha13950 says on the post that no one noticed Big Foot until after they got home and checked the video (if they taped the entire lumbering hike that must have made for a less than exhilarating editing room sesh).
The Inlander has a team of 80 forensic videographers checking on the authenticity of this. In the meantime, though, can I just make a plea, on behalf of Big Foot, for humanity to step up its game?
The sasquatch have been playing hide and seek with us for millenia, and it's pretty obvious who's winning. I mean, they're always right there, crossing into a clearing — dappled sunlight creating a halo of light that may as well be a flashing "Big Foot here" sign — just as there's a camera rolling.
And yet, besides John Lithgow, no one has ever nabbed one.