Labrador Wildman: The Traverspine River Encounters of 1913

When you think of Bigfoot country, your mind probably jumps straight to the Pacific Northwest — the misty forests of Washington, the redwoods of Northern California, maybe the swamps of Florida if you're feeling adventurous. But what if I told you there's a whole chapter of this phenomenon that's been hiding in plain sight up in the frozen barrens of Eastern Canada? A recent video that crossed my desk dives deep into exactly that — and honestly, it's the kind of content that makes you wonder why we don't talk about Canadian Bigfoot more often. The video walks through the history of bipedal giants reported across the Labrador Peninsula, starting long before any European settler ever set foot in the region. The indigenous Innu people have passed down warnings for thousands of years about the Atshen — massive, hairy, cannibalistic giants said to roam the frozen tree line with superhuman strength. The Inuit, further north along the Torngat Mountains, tell of the Tunijuk, a flesh-and-blood race of giants standing 8 to 10 feet tall who retreated into inaccessible mountain caves as human settlements expanded. These weren't spirit beings or metaphors — they were described as physical, tangible entities with heavy brows, broad shoulders, and a stench that preceded their arrival. Then comes the part that really got me. In 1913, at a remote homestead along the Traverspine River, a young girl named Miss Michelin was playing near the tree line when a towering 8-foot figure stepped out of the woods. Covered in thick dark hair with a striking white mane across its shoulders, the entity stood upright, grinned, and beckoned her toward the forest with a clawed hand. She ran. Her family rushed out with rifles, but the creature had vanished — leaving behind 16-inch bipedal tracks pressed deep into the mud. What makes this case stand out from typical campfire tales is the documentation. Dr. Harry L. Paddon, a respected physician with the Grenfell Mission, personally visited the homestead, examined the tracks, and noted they were distinctly human-like but ruled out any known mammal. The incidents were later compiled by explorer Elliott Merrick in his 1933 book *True North*, and further documented by modern Canadian explorer Adam Shoalts. Trappers who made their living tracking animals through the subarctic were so shaken that many refused to set their trap lines alone for years afterward. The video also touches on how encounters continued through the mid-20th century as logging and hydroelectric projects pushed deeper into Labrador's interior. Surveyors and engineers reported the same physical details — massive bipedal figures, heavy rhythmic footsteps, equipment tossed aside at remote camps. Whatever was walking those frozen riverbanks in 1913 didn't disappear. It just retreated further into the wilderness. For anyone interested in the global scope of this phenomenon, Labrador is a goldmine that's often overlooked. The combination of indigenous oral tradition, settler documentation, medical examination, and modern trackway evidence is exactly the kind of layered case file that deserves more attention. The video does a solid job laying it all out with the historical receipts to back it up. If you're looking for something to watch tonight that takes you beyond the usual Patterson-Gimlin conversation, this one's worth your time. Check it out and let me know what you think — because if the Atshen and the Tunijuk are part of the same family as the creatures roaming the Pacific Northwest, then Bigfoot's story is a lot older and a lot bigger than most people realize.