Legends & Tales Of Mount St. Helens

I Fought The Ape-men Of Mount St. Helens, WA

--Told by Fred Beck, written by Ronald Beck

Introduction

It is my intention in this book not only to tell you about the historic encounter I had with these mysterious creatures, but also to reveal to the public what I believe they are. Truth often is stranger than fiction, but the strangeness comes from the clouds surrounding our minds, not from the mystery itself.

This is not a large book, but may the largeness be conveyed by the picture I hope to paint of truth. Much has been written about that day in 1924, and I feel it right that I express my views at last.

To avoid embarrassment to the relatives of the other four men involved in the 1924 incident, I have not directly mentioned their names. The name, Hank, is a pseudonym of one of the main characters in the incident.

Chapter One-The Attack

First of all, I wish to give an account of the attack and tell of the famous incident of July, 1924, when the 'Hairy Apes' attacked our cabin. We had been prospecting for six years in the Mt. St. Helens and Lewis River area in Southwest Washington. We had, from time to time, come across large tracks by creek beds and springs. In 1924 I and four other miners were working our gold claim, the Vander White. It was two miles east of Mt. St. Helens near a deep canyon now named 'Ape Canyon'—which was so named after an account of the incident reached the newspapers.

Hank, a great hunter and good woodsman, was always a little apprehensive after seeing the tracks. The tracks were large and we knew that no known animal could have made them: the largest measured nineteen inches long.

It was in the middle of July, and we had received a good assay on our claim, and everyone was excited. I remember I had a tooth that was aching, and I suggested to Hank that he should take me to town to see a dentist; but he was so enthused in the prospects of the gold mine, he barely took time to answer me. He replied that 'God or the Devil' could not get him away from there. We had all come up in his Ford, and I had no way to get to town unless he took me. So, when we went back to our cabin, on the north side of the canyon, I had a nagging toothache and little appetite for our evening meal of beans and hotcakes.

Hank, though apprehensive, was still determined. We had been hearing noises in the evening for about a week. We heard a shrill, peculiar whistling each evening. We would hear it coming from one ridge, and then hear an answering whistling from another ridge. We also heard a sound which I could best describe as a booming, thumping sound—just like something was hitting its self on its chest.

Hank asked me to accompany him to the spring; about a hundred yards from our cabin, to get some water, and suggested we take our rifles—to be on the safe side. We walked to the spring, and then, Hank yelled and raised his rifle, and at that instant, I saw it. It was a hairy creature, and he was about a hundred yards away, on the other side of a little canyon, standing by a pine tree. It dodged behind the tree, and poked its head out from the side of the tree. And at the same time, Hank shot. I could see the bark fly out from the tree from each of his three shots. Someone may say that that was quite a distance to see the bark fly, but I saw it. The creature I judged to have been about seven feet tall with blackish-brown hair. It disappeared from our view for a short time, but then we saw it, running fast and upright, about two hundred yards down the little canyon. I shot three times before it disappeared from view.