Thumping Noises
Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2009 1:09 pm
Hi All
The other day I was re-reading some of Tony Healy’s & Paul Cropper’s book “The Yowie In Search Of Australia’s Bigfoot”, and they mentioned that yowies have been known to make loud thumping noises and these noises have been attributed to footfalls (Page 12).
This brought to mind an incident that I experienced while doing some yowie investigating on about February 2007 in the Hazelbrooke area. A friend and I decided to investigate a well known yowie haunt along a fire trail near Hazelbrook in the Blue Mountains. We were advised to set up in this certain area by Neil (if you know the area you will probably know who Neil is.) Neil is a local expert on the yowie movements around Hazelbrook. Any way we set up camp just before sunset (parked the commodore down the bush track near the locked gate) and went for a quick recon of the area, we had it in mind to find a good spot to stake out. We selected a spot just off the fire trail that over looked an intersecting track. We left some bunya cone nuts in the middle of the intersection as a possible attractant, also if anything investigated the nuts, it would be sure to leave tracks in the soft sandy soil that had accumulated at this intersection. We then headed back to the car and had some thing to eat and drink, also we got changed into our camy gear and mosquito netted head wear grabbed our torches and recording gear.
Just before dark we set up in our position and quietly waited to see what would happen. The first thing that happened was the mosquitoes found us, I could not believe how many descended upon us. I am glad I had worn thick camy gear and a mosquito net on my face, but my hands were exposed, so I shoved them deep into my pockets. After a while my hearing adjusted to the constant high pitched whine of mosquitoes, and I could filter this sound out from the other sounds of the bush. As dusk settled upon us, I could hear the rustling in the leaf litter of several small creatures as they scampered about near by. When the light faded completely I heard the soft flap of a night bird as it landed in a tree near by, then the bush went quiet, except for that annoying whine.
Suddenly there was a loud crack of a dead branch breaking just the other side of the trail. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end as I strained to detect any other movement, there was none. We sat there in our position stock still and listened for about another five minutes ears straining to hear the slightest sound whist peering into the gloom in the hope of detecting any movement. Nothing just that annoying whine. Then some thing let out a loud scream from the bushes jus beyond our position, we both jumped, I could hear the blood pounding in my head, as the adrenalin coursed through my body, but we remained stock still in our position. Another twenty minutes passed before we decided that what ever it was had moved on.
We decided to head back up the track to the car, on the way back we discussed what we had just experienced, I felt sure that the loud scream had been made by some night bird and the breaking stick was probably jus a wallaby, however my mate was sure that we had a visit from our hairy friend.
We were traversing a bit of an incline just before the locked gate and still discussing the evening’s events, when something made several loud thumping noises. The sounds came from a small ridge just above where we had parked the car. At first I dismissed the heavy thumps as just a big roo hopping off through the bush, but as we approached the car we heard a second series of heavy thumps again from the same area, the thumps did not progress in any direction but seemed to come each time from the same spot on the ridge, what ever it was it clearly was not hopping away, it was just standing up there making thumping sounds from the ridge. We started to speculate as to what the source of the thumps might be. Next moment whump, whump, whump! It was still there, we headed up a small track with torches at the ready, the track headed directly to where the noises were coming from. We advanced slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, we sounded like a heard of elephants, as the dry leaf litter crunched under foot. At the top of the ridge we both turned our torches on, nothing but silent bush was there in our beams.
The rest of the evening was almost uneventful, except for a couple of visits from some locals. They didn’t hang around long, especially when my mate would jump out of the car in full camouflage fatigues, wearing a ski mask, and having a large Rambo style knife strapped to his side. I think the yowies would be far less scary than this guy, glad he was on my side. The car was most uncomfortable to sleep in despite having layback seats. We took it in turns to keep watch through the night until morning, other than a few wallabies and something like a quall we had no other visitors.
In the morning we headed over to Neil’s house armed with some fresh croissants for breakfast, Neil was kind enough to offer us a cup of tea and assist us with dispatching the croissants. Over breakfast we discussed the events of the previous evening. I put forward my theory that a large roo was most likely to have been the source of the thumping noises we heard on the ridge, and a night bird was responsible for the scream. Neil informed me that he has never known anything bigger than a swamp wallaby to frequent the area and they are only small. After breakfast Neil took us for a tour of his backyard and showed us where a yowie that used to frequently visit him would hang out.
Later that day Neil accompanied us back to where we had camped the night before. One of the first features of this area that he pointed out was this faint little track that ran up from the gully below to the fire trail and then continued up onto the small ridge, the same small ridge that we had heard the thumping noises coming from and the same little track that we had crept up to investigate the noises. The track, Neil explained, was one the yowie that he called Fatfoot used to use. Neil used to stake it out and ambush the yowie as it crossed the fire trail. He said that after a while the yowie woke up to this and changed its rout. I tied to reproduce the thumping noise we had heard, by jumping as heavily as I could from a rock onto the leaf litter. It was obvious that what ever had made the noises the night before was much heavier than me. I only weigh about 75 kilos. My mate who looked to be a bit heavier than me had a go as well, and his attempt was no more impressive than mine.
To this day I am not sure whether we encountered the elusive yowie or if the sounds we heard were just some other animals, but in the context of where we were and its past history, we may well have had an encounter.
The above was not the only interesting yowie related experience we had that weekend but I will leave those other happenings for another day.
The other day I was re-reading some of Tony Healy’s & Paul Cropper’s book “The Yowie In Search Of Australia’s Bigfoot”, and they mentioned that yowies have been known to make loud thumping noises and these noises have been attributed to footfalls (Page 12).
This brought to mind an incident that I experienced while doing some yowie investigating on about February 2007 in the Hazelbrooke area. A friend and I decided to investigate a well known yowie haunt along a fire trail near Hazelbrook in the Blue Mountains. We were advised to set up in this certain area by Neil (if you know the area you will probably know who Neil is.) Neil is a local expert on the yowie movements around Hazelbrook. Any way we set up camp just before sunset (parked the commodore down the bush track near the locked gate) and went for a quick recon of the area, we had it in mind to find a good spot to stake out. We selected a spot just off the fire trail that over looked an intersecting track. We left some bunya cone nuts in the middle of the intersection as a possible attractant, also if anything investigated the nuts, it would be sure to leave tracks in the soft sandy soil that had accumulated at this intersection. We then headed back to the car and had some thing to eat and drink, also we got changed into our camy gear and mosquito netted head wear grabbed our torches and recording gear.
Just before dark we set up in our position and quietly waited to see what would happen. The first thing that happened was the mosquitoes found us, I could not believe how many descended upon us. I am glad I had worn thick camy gear and a mosquito net on my face, but my hands were exposed, so I shoved them deep into my pockets. After a while my hearing adjusted to the constant high pitched whine of mosquitoes, and I could filter this sound out from the other sounds of the bush. As dusk settled upon us, I could hear the rustling in the leaf litter of several small creatures as they scampered about near by. When the light faded completely I heard the soft flap of a night bird as it landed in a tree near by, then the bush went quiet, except for that annoying whine.
Suddenly there was a loud crack of a dead branch breaking just the other side of the trail. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end as I strained to detect any other movement, there was none. We sat there in our position stock still and listened for about another five minutes ears straining to hear the slightest sound whist peering into the gloom in the hope of detecting any movement. Nothing just that annoying whine. Then some thing let out a loud scream from the bushes jus beyond our position, we both jumped, I could hear the blood pounding in my head, as the adrenalin coursed through my body, but we remained stock still in our position. Another twenty minutes passed before we decided that what ever it was had moved on.
We decided to head back up the track to the car, on the way back we discussed what we had just experienced, I felt sure that the loud scream had been made by some night bird and the breaking stick was probably jus a wallaby, however my mate was sure that we had a visit from our hairy friend.
We were traversing a bit of an incline just before the locked gate and still discussing the evening’s events, when something made several loud thumping noises. The sounds came from a small ridge just above where we had parked the car. At first I dismissed the heavy thumps as just a big roo hopping off through the bush, but as we approached the car we heard a second series of heavy thumps again from the same area, the thumps did not progress in any direction but seemed to come each time from the same spot on the ridge, what ever it was it clearly was not hopping away, it was just standing up there making thumping sounds from the ridge. We started to speculate as to what the source of the thumps might be. Next moment whump, whump, whump! It was still there, we headed up a small track with torches at the ready, the track headed directly to where the noises were coming from. We advanced slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, we sounded like a heard of elephants, as the dry leaf litter crunched under foot. At the top of the ridge we both turned our torches on, nothing but silent bush was there in our beams.
The rest of the evening was almost uneventful, except for a couple of visits from some locals. They didn’t hang around long, especially when my mate would jump out of the car in full camouflage fatigues, wearing a ski mask, and having a large Rambo style knife strapped to his side. I think the yowies would be far less scary than this guy, glad he was on my side. The car was most uncomfortable to sleep in despite having layback seats. We took it in turns to keep watch through the night until morning, other than a few wallabies and something like a quall we had no other visitors.
In the morning we headed over to Neil’s house armed with some fresh croissants for breakfast, Neil was kind enough to offer us a cup of tea and assist us with dispatching the croissants. Over breakfast we discussed the events of the previous evening. I put forward my theory that a large roo was most likely to have been the source of the thumping noises we heard on the ridge, and a night bird was responsible for the scream. Neil informed me that he has never known anything bigger than a swamp wallaby to frequent the area and they are only small. After breakfast Neil took us for a tour of his backyard and showed us where a yowie that used to frequently visit him would hang out.
Later that day Neil accompanied us back to where we had camped the night before. One of the first features of this area that he pointed out was this faint little track that ran up from the gully below to the fire trail and then continued up onto the small ridge, the same small ridge that we had heard the thumping noises coming from and the same little track that we had crept up to investigate the noises. The track, Neil explained, was one the yowie that he called Fatfoot used to use. Neil used to stake it out and ambush the yowie as it crossed the fire trail. He said that after a while the yowie woke up to this and changed its rout. I tied to reproduce the thumping noise we had heard, by jumping as heavily as I could from a rock onto the leaf litter. It was obvious that what ever had made the noises the night before was much heavier than me. I only weigh about 75 kilos. My mate who looked to be a bit heavier than me had a go as well, and his attempt was no more impressive than mine.
To this day I am not sure whether we encountered the elusive yowie or if the sounds we heard were just some other animals, but in the context of where we were and its past history, we may well have had an encounter.
The above was not the only interesting yowie related experience we had that weekend but I will leave those other happenings for another day.