It started 25 years ago on a fishing and camping trip, along the mighty Columbia River at a creek called Abernathy. Me and a nephew went hiking up the creek. The creek bed is clay and gravel and larger rock, shallow in spots and deep in others, and eventually it flows into the river.
At Abernathy, there’s tall grass and sparse trees near the mouth, and the further up the creek you go, the more dense the forest gets, and the easier it gets for things to hide that don’t want to be seen. While fishing the creek and not having much luck, my nephew was playing on the bank of the creek. We heard something in the brush, and saw the high grass moving. About then, I caught an odd looking fish. By the time I landed it and got the hook out, it was dead. I filleted it out and used it for bait, but to no avail. There just wasn’t anything biting.
I let my nephew use my hunting knife while he played, telling him to make sure he didn’t lose it.
About then, my nephew was prying on something and the knife slipped out of his hands, flew through the air, and landed in the deepest part of the creek. The knife was lost for good. I told him, jokingly, “If you don’t get the knife, the fish monster will get it and get us both.” My nephew was about eleven, and he wasn’t so sure that I wasn’t telling him the truth.
Well, it was getting late, and the sun was going down behind the trees. It was time to think about going to sleep, and back then I had a station wagon, which made a perfect place for sleeping. We had our sleeping bags in the wagon and laid down to go to sleep. About then, we heard a noise outside the station wagon. We looked outside with a flashlight but didn’t see anything. I looked at my nephew and said, “It’s probably the fish monster.”
Then something brushed up against the car and it moved in a kind of swaying motion. We both looked outside with our flashlights, and again we saw nothing. I looked at my nephew and his eyes were the size of saucers. I have to admit, we were both a little freaked out.
One more time we both laid down, and about then we heard a weird sound like something in pain. We heard the brush moving, and again the car moved. Well, even I figured it was time to pack up and get the Hell out of Dodge, so I jumped up front, climbed behind the wheel, and proceeded to drive out of there. I drove about 10 miles or so down the road to a park at the county line, where the parking lot was all lit up. I got out of the car and noticed scratches and dirt scrapes down the side of the station wagon. We slept a little uneasy that night, and I haven’t been back to Abernathy Creek since.
—Randy Long
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