Weather 
On a sunny and brisk Sunday at Poet’s Walk Park in the Hudson Valley, the scenic, Hudson River-adjacent trails are filled with outdoor enthusiasts, all eagerly taking in the fresh air.
Just a few hundred yards away from the gaggles of day-trippers and Lululemon-sporting second homers, however, a different scenario is unfolding — a small group makes its way through a forest, led by longtime local Gayle Beatty.
They’re not here to get their daily steps in — Beatty is an avid Bigfoot researcher, and her crew of hardy upstaters are searching for none other than the hairy beast.
The idyllic, thick stand of oak, beech and maple trees, where hikers are afforded only occasional views of the river and Catskill mountains beyond, might seem like just another scenic upstate spot to the uninitiated, but Beatty and her crew at Bigfoot Researchers of the Hudson Valley say they’ve seen multiple signs of the elusive beast in the area.
Today, they’re hunting for more.
Normally associated with the primeval Pacific Northwest forest — the Native American legend of Sasquatch, or “hairy man” in the Salish language, goes back centuries, while the modern nickname of Bigfoot was coined in the 1950s — a patch of riverfront near Bard College, two hours north of Manhattan, seems an unlikely spot for a sighting.
But the signs are everywhere, according to Beatty.
Trees that have allegedly been pushed over, dead animals found floating in water — even “Blair Witch Project”-esque stick figures that show up on motion tracking tech, all potentially denoting the creature’s location.
“They’re more than just an ape in the woods. They can be around us, and we can’t see them because they can be cloaked,” Beatty explained to a Post reporter, while scanning the surrounding trees with the help of divining rods.
Beatty and her team of investigators respond to all reports of sightings, often picked up by trail cams frequently used by hunters, and other times at people’s homes. Investigations are always conducted free of charge.
Since the organization was founded in 2013, its active Facebook group has snowballed from a few enthusiasts to over 6,300 followers.
Their mission is to let the world know that the elusive beast is alive, well and living in the Hudson Valley — and to help those who have tangled with the creature to “understand their unique experiences.”
The proprietor of the popular Hook, Line and Sinker bait shop in the nearby town of Red Hook, Beatty said she has received 300 reports as far south as Westchester County and deep into upstate — the most recent one coming two months ago when a “juvenile” was spotted on a property in Elizaville. The group even collaborated with “Survivorman” host and Bigfoot enthusiast Les Stroud in 2016.
Beatty’s own Bigfoot journey began in the 1960s, when, after getting grounded by her parents, she hiked up Stissing Mountain in nearby Pine Plains to be alone.
The rebellious teen had set up camp when she heard a “godawful scream” that caused the blood to “drain” out of her, she recalled. Fearing for her life, she ran back down to her house “white as a sheet.”
However, it wasn’t until 2011 that Beatty realized the provenance of that unearthly sound. While doing the dishes as the show “Finding Bigfoot” was on TV, she heard the same noise that she had heard on the mountain all those years ago.
Curious, she Googled “bigfoot sightings” in Dutchess County, pulling up a daytime road crossing of Bigfoot seen by two women on Lake Road in Pine Plains.
Beatty then started talking to hunters, anglers and other outdoor people, and they would tell her stories, motivating her to probe further.
“I started going out with my friends just out of curiosity and we started finding tracks, structures, hair on barbed wire fences up on a farm, all kinds of evidence,” said Beatty. “It was just unbelievable.”
Brian Herbst is a former tech worker who has joined the day’s walk. His specialty is attempting to pick up the creature on various Ghostbuster-esque gadgets like the motion tracker, as well as with an electromagnetic field meter that lights up in the presence of paranormal activity.
There’s also Pat Kipp, an octogenarian nurse who has experienced a host of sightings, she said, including one that “banged on the side” of her house, “went in my backyard, tipped over my picnic table, chairs and everything.”
“The wind doesn’t do that,” said the Claverack resident.
She explained that Bigfoot — which can grow to 10 feet tall, per cryptozoological canon — is nonetheless challenging to pin down because, along with “Predator”-esque camouflage powers, the chameleonic beings can “go in and out of dimensions.”
“You can’t see them with the naked eye, but they can see you,” cautioned the sleuth.
And, it’s best not to get too close — messing with Sasquatch has its perils, these experts warn.
“I’ve had [bait shop] customers out in the boat where they’ve thrown little rocks, pebbles, or pine cones, or, if they really want you out of an area, they will scream,” said Beatty.
The clairvoyant critters can also zap people with infrasound, the pros claim. This “vibrational frequency” disorients a person and makes them “dizzy or nauseous,” as was potentially the case with team member Tom Williams, a Carmel well driller who reported suffering severe headaches during our expedition.
But despite the mystical cryptid’s fearsome appearance and reputation, Beatty said that 90% of the time it means us no harm — think less “Abominable,” more “Harry and the Hendersons.”
To ward off bad juju, Beatty purifies every team member with white sage smoke before and after the expedition, and also leaves tobacco as tribute.
Human-Bigfoot encounters are of particular concern in winter, she said, when the omnivorous cryptid — which eats everything from deer to muskrat and even berries — is forced to scrounge human scraps, per Beatty.
“I’ve actually had reports, two or three reports of them raiding dumpsters,” Beatty said, recalling an incident last February. “One was on Route 9 [at a Dairy Queen] in Wappingers Falls, and the [manager] was closing up. It was 11 p.m., and he went out to put the garbage in the dumpster, and he heard something and he put his light on, and there was a female Bigfoot dumpster diving, getting food.”
These stories might beggar belief, but it’s never been a trendier time to be a Bigfooter.
There are more than 30 active podcasts related to the hairy humanoid; there are sold-out Sasquatch-spotting tours, and fans can watch documentary films like last year’s “American Sasquatch: Man, Myth or Monster,” in which ex-detective David Paulides tries to crack the mystery using expert testimony, DNA evidence, and even quantum mechanics.
Meanwhile, a Civic Science survey found that belief among US adults increased by 18% from 2020 to 2022, while a 2024 study found that Bigfoot-related merchandise generates $140 million annually.
Social media has been credited for accelerating the spread, as platforms like YouTube and Reddit are rife with alleged photos and footage of the beasts, which Beatty and her researchers believe live in every state.
To help Bigfoot infestees, Beatty and her team will conduct “residential investigations for people that are having problems with these things coming around.”
These entail looking for telltale signs like plus-size tracks, a water source, and teepee-like tree structures, after which Beatty will gather five or six people to take a look, keeping the identities of the clients a secret.
They then set up trail cameras to deter the beasts, “but they’re so smart that they will maneuver around the cameras or actually turn them away so you don’t see them,” said Beatty.
What does one do upon encountering a Sasquatch? Beatty explained that we should “never throw anything at them or try to harm them in any way” because they will “retaliate against that.”
Instead, she advises people to be respectful, put their hands up in a posture of submission and tell the critter — which she insists understands English — “I’m going to leave now” and walk away.
But whatever you do, don’t run. “They have a predator instinct and they will drop down on all fours,” warned Beatty.
The same goes for feeding Sasquatch, which can habituate the creatures much like a bear. Beatty recalled how on Dec. 30, 2014, she was investigating a man in Tivoli who had a whole “clan” that he fed “sandwiches” and “honey buns” every night. Accompanying her were some Massachusetts investigators with a special nighttime camera.
While on site, she saw a “white bigfoot” walk by the house, whereupon they geared up and went outside, which is when all hell broke loose.
“As soon as I stepped out on the deck, the trees started breaking,” Beatty recalled. “We all start walking down toward the creek, maybe a hundred yards away from the house. He’s (one of the investigators) filming five Bigfoot and they’re getting really mad and they’re starting to throw these trees down like pretzels.”
The team ran back to the house when they saw a blue light shoot up in the sky. “It changed our life, all of us,” recalled Beatty. “All of us looked at each other like, ‘Oh my God, there’s something otherworldly going on here.’ ”
Matthew Moneymaker, 60, a leading Sasquatch expert who’s been investigating since the ’80s, told The Post he is skeptical of overly detailed stories on Bigfoot’s “psychic” abilities.
“A lot of times people telling stories are shooting for the big wow,” said Moneymaker, who founded the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, the de facto database for credible Sasquatch sightings.
Instead, the Bigfoot hunter takes a naturalist’s approach to the critter, which he believes is a descendant of the extinct ape Gigantopithecus Blacki.
“Enough paranormalish stuff happens in their presence or in their vicinity that it might make you think they are something alien,” he said.
“And the weird things that happen in their presence may be just biologically explainable as a result of them having very large brains, because these are very big animals. They don’t just have big feet.”
For her part, Beatty doesn’t sweat the skeptics, declaring, “I’ve had other people come into the shop and disbelieve and then have their own experience and then come back and say, ‘… this happened to me when I was out hunting.’
“I would just say to keep an open mind about the subject,” she said. “We’re trying to find out more about them so that we can safely live alongside them — because they’re not going anywhere.”
