Conversations With Sasquatch Novel Cross Over takes us deep into a land created and overseen by the Sasquatch Council of Elders. Cross Over is an ecological paradise free of pollution, crime and filth ridden cities. It is uncorrupted by computer technology and corporate governments. Cross Over runs on supernatural powers far in advance of that of man. It is a land of prosperity and abundance that exists out of reach to most humans on earth. It exists in unison and parallel, but mostly unaccessible to our human existence.
Sasquatch Novel Cross Over
As I descend the switchback, I cannot help but think of Ted Kaczynski, now a kindred spirit of sorts in a bizarre and opaque way. If that lunatic could survive and win over the Sasquatch in Cross Over, then I shouldn’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about.
Maybe I’m as crazy as he was, belting out “Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, off to work I go” at the top of my lungs in this foreign reality I know very little about.
Now that I have gotten their attention, I notice that I have caused them to lose control of their raft. It is drifting sideways because someone has dropped their line. One Sasquatch has at least temporarily forgotten his duties in order to gesticulate at the strange singing human descending down upon them.
In the confusion, there is at once a frantic tug of war with the raft and its crew as it tries to spin out of control. Then with all efforts by the Sasquatch refocused on the task, my descent is being ignored. I might just as well be a pesky horsefly buzzing out of reach. I just hope a ticked off bruiser doesn’t decide to turn and give me a good swat. I don’t think I’d be likely to survive.
As I set foot on the spit of sand, the raft is being stabilized with large wooded stakes already driven to loop the ropes. With some quick overhand knots by the Sasquatch, I am suddenly once again the focus of a dozen shocked faces. For some strange reason I get the sense they are more afraid of me than I am of them.
The force of their powerful presence all turned towards me has halted my forward progress. Time as come to a standstill. Though I am not exactly afraid, I am frozen. How long we have been staring at each other with just a few feet of sand between us, is difficult to discern. Probably only seconds, but it feels like forever. The first thing that comes to mind is the stone without time. Its presence in the palm of my hand registers as my only weapon. In what seems like slow motion, I pull it from my pocket and hold it up for the Towering Sasquatch to see.
“Loquius,” I say, “Loquius.”
And yes, that is the honored password in Cross Over. Their gazes turn to each other as the name registers and subdues a major portion of their fears and confusion. There is a quick paced discussion of sorts before their attention returns to the strange little creature staring up at them.
Once again, I am overwhelmed by their size. I once saw a huge grizzly stand on his hind legs to impress me with his attributes, and as big as that grizzly was, I do not believe that he’d have the courage necessary to stand up to a Sasquatch. These guys are not just big, they are Bigfoot construction worker enormous.
“Loquius,” I repeat, trying to keep any hint of uncertainty from my voice.
Again, there is an animate discussion with hands and arms gesticulating about. There seems to be a faction of discord from two or three of the crew. The look in their eyes and their postures suggest I would be in Bigfoot trouble if not for the vote tally being in my favor.
One of the Sasquatch separates from the group and in three long strides is towering over me. I can smell the damp hair, it’s not unlike the smell of a freshly laundered dog, not repulsive, but also not an odor of pure freshness.
“Oooo-de-de-do?” I am sure he is asking me a question. Such a strange sounding language, kind of like R2-D2 in Star Wars.
I only have one answer. “Loquius?” I ask and just like with the Sasquatch boy, I raise my hand to my brow and pretend to look.
Big Boy turns back to the group and appears to get confirmation from the other’s yet bewildered looks. He raises his huge arm and points at the raft, then kneels and looks me in the face. With a finger as big around as my wrist, he draws a squiggly line in the sand. He points once more to the raft and moves his finger up the squiggly line to a point where he jabs his finger in the sand.
“Pariseema,” he says. “Loquius Pariseema.”
I am caught completely off guard when his big arm reaches out and encircles my waist. I am hefted into the air like a rag doll and carried to the raft where I am handed up to another Sasquatch that deposits me on a bed of fresh kenaf.
With a flurry of motion, the crew is back to work and I have a one way ticket to Pariseema.
Sasquatch Novel Cross Over, Episode 2
The river is a vast source of navigation and activity as we traverse the first few bends. I can see Sasquatch fishing from the shore with long cane poles. Traveling in our wake are small rafts with four to six oars. I notice the tell-tale mounds of Bigfoot homes appearing along the bank where a few wolves are out pacing and barking at our passing.
The first really strange sight is that of a structure that looks similar to a Middle Eastern temple. It is white and dome-shaped, not covered with earth and plants like the homes. It looks to have borrowed its design from human geodesic engineering. Once again, I am struck by the largesse of the facade built to accommodate the Sasquatch instead of man.
We continue upstream and the temple structure finally fades and disappears as we wend a big bend where the river opens into a medium sized lake. Here, the raft’s ropes are coiled, and huge oars are mounted in oar locks as the raft is muscled out into the deep. The water is a staggering deep blue in contrast to the light blue, cloud dappled sky. The air has an invigorating quality that makes me feel energized. I can feel the molecules in my lungs rejoice from the purity.
The lake is cradled by hills and dotted with many smaller geodesic structures built from the same white material that dominated the temple. They are reminiscent of hillside homes you might see above Santa Barbara, California.
At the end of the lake is a pure white city of these geodesic structures. It climbs the hillside from the shore to its pinnacle like a huge overflowing glacier. All the building’s domes are white, broken only by off-white shadows, green trees and flowering bushes. It fills me with a sense of cleanliness that no human city has been able to accomplish. Maybe it is just the whiteness and the simple barrier of distance, but it emanates a beauty I have never experienced from a mass populace of human engineering.
The Sasquatch are once again chanting, and their oars are biting the water in perfect harmony. The raft is humming along and rapidly parting company with the river’s shore. I am enjoying my trip. It is like a fantasy inside a dream in which I am wide awake.
Mary and I are also the authors of "Sasquatch" the children's book. Your support of our endeavors to create family oriented books with values is greatly appreciated and does not go without thanks. May the Bigfoot force be with you, now and always.