Finding Bigfoot: The Search Continues and Why We Still Can’t Find a Body

Finding Bigfoot: The Search Continues and Why We Still Can’t Find a Body

It's out there. Or maybe it isn't. People have been obsessed with the idea of a giant, hairy bipedal ape roaming the North American wilderness for basically as long as humans have lived here. Indigenous oral histories describe the Sasq’ets or the See’atco with a mix of reverence and genuine fear. Then the 1950s happened, a bulldozer operator named Jerry Crew found some massive footprints in Northern California, and the media went absolutely nuts. That’s how we got the name Bigfoot.

Decades later, finding Bigfoot: the search continues with more technology than ever before, yet we are still staring at grainy photos and blurry thermal footage that looks like a blob of mashed potatoes. Honestly, it’s frustrating. We have 4K cameras on every smartphone, but the "Squatch" stays blurry. Why?

The Patterson-Gimlin Film: The 59-Second Shadow

In 1967, Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin rode their horses into Bluff Creek. They came back with 59 seconds of 16mm film that still defines the entire field of cryptozoology. You know the shot. "Patty" walks across a sandbar, turns her head to look at the camera, and disappears into the brush.

Critics say it’s a guy in a suit. Bob Heironimus even claimed he was the guy in that suit. But here’s the thing: experts like Dr. Jeff Meldrum, a professor of anatomy and anthropology at Idaho State University, point out things that are incredibly hard to fake. We’re talking about visible muscle ripples in the thighs and a mid-tarsal break in the foot that isn't found in humans but is present in some primates. A costume from the late 60s shouldn't have been that sophisticated. Even Hollywood’s best at the time, like the guys working on Planet of the Apes, couldn't quite replicate the fluid, heavy gait seen in that footage.

But it’s just film. It isn't a body. Without a body, it’s just a ghost story with a budget.

👉 See also: The Meaning of Easter Sunday: Why This Day Actually Changes Everything

DNA and the Problem of "Science-ish" Evidence

The search has moved into the lab. We aren't just looking for footprints anymore. We’re looking for eDNA—environmental DNA. Basically, researchers like those involved in the Falcon Project or various university-led surveys collect water from remote ponds or hair caught on barbed wire.

A few years ago, the Sykes study (the Oxford-Lausanne Collateral Hominid Project) analyzed dozens of "Bigfoot" hair samples. The results? Most were bears. Some were dogs. One was a cow. Two samples were weird, though—they matched an ancient polar bear jawbone from the Pleistocene era. That’s cool, but it isn’t a forest giant.

Then you have the 2013 Melba Ketchum study. It claimed to find "Sasquatch" DNA that was a hybrid of modern humans and an unknown primate. The scientific community basically laughed it out of the room because the peer review was non-existent and the data looked contaminated. Real science is messy. It’s slow. And so far, it hasn't given us a "gotcha" moment.

The Gigantopithecus Connection

Many believers think Bigfoot is a remnant population of Gigantopithecus blacki. This was a massive ape that lived in Southeast Asia. It stood up to ten feet tall. It weighed half a ton. It definitely existed—we have the jawbones and teeth to prove it.

The theory is they crossed the Bering Land Bridge just like humans did. It makes sense on paper. But Gigantopithecus went extinct about 300,000 years ago. Could a small population survive in the Cascades or the Rockies for that long without us finding a single femur? It’s a huge "if."

Why the Search Continues Despite the Silence

You’d think after seventy years of nothing, people would give up. They don’t. Because the sightings don't stop.

Take the Sierra Kills or the 911 calls from rural Washington state. These aren't all hoaxers. A lot of these people are hunters, foresters, and hikers who know what a bear looks like. When a veteran woodsman says he saw something eight feet tall run up a 40-degree incline with the grace of an Olympic sprinter, it’s hard to just call him a liar.

The Pacific Northwest is huge. Really huge. People underestimate how much "nowhere" there is out there. Millions of acres of dense, vertical forest where a small, nomadic group of intelligent primates could arguably hide. They wouldn't need to be magic. They’d just need to be shy and smart.

The Tech Revolution in Cryptozoology

The gear has changed. We’ve gone from plaster casts to:

  • Thermal Imaging: High-end FLIR cameras that can pick up a heat signature from a mile away.
  • Autonomous Drones: Mapping the canopy in areas humans can't easily reach.
  • Acoustic Monitoring: Recording "vocalizations" or wood knocks. Groups like the Olympic Project use high-fidelity recorders to capture screams that don't match known North American fauna.

But even with the tech, finding Bigfoot: the search continues because the evidence remains anecdotal. A recording of a scream is just a sound. A heat "blob" on a thermal camera is just heat. Without a specimen—alive or dead—the scientific community won't budge. And honestly? They shouldn't. Science requires repeatable, physical proof.

Misconceptions That Muddy the Water

One of the biggest problems in this field is the "Woo-factor." This is the idea that Bigfoot is interdimensional, can disappear at will, or is connected to UFOs. While it’s fun for a late-night podcast, it kills the credibility of serious researchers.

If Bigfoot is real, it’s a biological animal. It eats. It poops. It dies.

If we treat it like a ghost, we’ll never find it. Most serious researchers, like those in the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization (BFRO), stick to the biological model. They track seasonal food sources like salmon runs or huckleberry harvests. They look for "structures"—trees snapped and woven together in ways that don't look like wind damage.

People often ask: "If they're real, why haven't we found bones?"

It’s a fair question. But how often do you find bear bones in the woods? Almost never. Nature is incredibly efficient at recycling calcium. Between acidic soil, scavengers, and rapid decay, a carcass disappears in weeks. If these creatures are rare, the odds of a hiker tripping over a skeleton are astronomical.

Also, we have to consider intelligence. If these things are even half as smart as a chimpanzee, they know how to avoid humans. We are loud, we smell like soap, and we stick to trails.

Moving Forward: Actionable Steps for the Curious

If you’re actually interested in the reality of this, don't just watch reality TV shows where people scream in the dark. Those are for entertainment.

  1. Check the BFRO Database: They have a curated list of sightings by region. Look at your local area. See if there are clusters of reports near water sources or specific mountain ranges.
  2. Learn Your Local Wildlife: Before you go out looking for a monster, learn what a Barred Owl sounds like at 2:00 AM. Learn the difference between a bear track and a human track. Most "Bigfoot" sightings are just misidentified black bears.
  3. Invest in Quality Gear: If you’re heading into the woods, a cheap dashcam won't cut it. You need high-optical zoom. Digital zoom just creates pixels.
  4. Join a Citizen Science Group: Organizations like the North American Wood Ape Conservancy (NAWAC) take a more disciplined, long-term approach to field study. They spend weeks in the bush rather than just a weekend.

The search isn't just about a monster. It’s about the idea that the world is still big enough to hold secrets. Even if we never find a body, the hunt itself forces us to look closer at the wilderness we have left. And maybe that's the point.

Keep your eyes on the treeline. Don't forget your bear spray.