1909 BC Guide's Testimony Reveals Mysterious Tree Bark Stripping Pattern

What happens when a government survey crew ignores a First Nation's warning about sacred ground? A newly surfaced oral history recording from the University of British Columbia might have the answer, and it's the kind of story that gives you chills. A video that recently caught my attention dives deep into a 93-minute tape cataloged as Reel 47 in the Nuxalk oral history collection at UBC. The recording features an 86-year-old man named Joseph Satson recounting events from 62 years earlier, in the summer of 1909, when he was just 24 years old and working as a guide for a Geological Survey of Canada crew heading into a sub-valley north of the Bella Coola River headwaters in British Columbia. Here's where it gets really interesting. The Nuxalk Nation had formally excluded this particular valley from their own treaty. Not as a bargaining chip, but because, as the treaty language states, "the ground was not ours to give." Joseph's mother had briefed him on this place when he was just 14 years old, sitting him down and drawing a map on the back of a flour sack. She gave him three operational rules: you may pass through, you may drink from the water, and you may not put anything in the ground that says the ground is yours. She also told him to watch the trees at the valley's entrance. If the bark was stripped higher than a bear could reach, the valley was occupied and the rule was in force. The crew consisted of five men: Robert McCready, a 41-year-old assistant surveyor just three seasons from pension; Etienne Pose, a 29-year-old geologist in his first season hoping to secure a permanent appointment; William Tullik, a 22-year-old assistant surveyor whose widowed mother depended on his wages; a packer named Henley who survived but never spoke about what happened; and Joseph himself. When they reached the valley entrance on August 8th, Joseph found exactly what his mother had warned him about. The bark on the cedar and spruce flanking the entrance was stripped from roughly four feet to nine feet above the ground. But these weren't the ragged horizontal tears a bear leaves when rubbing its back. These were parallel vertical grooves, evenly spaced, cut deep enough to expose white wood beneath. Joseph placed his hand against them and his spread fingers didn't even cover the span between two adjacent grooves. His words on the tape say it all: "A bear reaches up and rakes. This was not raking. This was... [something else entirely]." For researchers familiar with Sasquatch tree markings, this description aligns with countless other reports across North America. The parallel vertical scoring, the height range well beyond bear capability, the deliberate and repeated nature of the marks, these are hallmarks of what witnesses have described for generations. The "ridin'" or pulling-down motion Joseph describes matches what many Indigenous traditions refer to as territorial marking by the large beings who inhabit remote valleys. The silence that greeted them within 300 yards of the entrance is another detail that resonates with Sasquatch encounter literature. Not just quiet, but the complete absence of animal sound. No birds, no insects, no rustle of small mammals. The creek was audible, but above the water, nothing. Joseph described it as something that "pressed on the ears." The video walks through how this oral history connects to a sealed letter found in a dead woman's desk in Ottawa, written by McCready himself. Two documents describing the same eight days, agreeing on almost everything except one detail that, according to the video, changes everything. I won't spoil the rest because this story deserves to be heard in full. The way the video lays out the timeline, the cultural context, and the physical evidence is genuinely compelling. Whether you're interested in Sasquatch research, Indigenous oral traditions, or just a gripping historical mystery, this one is worth your time. Check it out on the Morvexa Files channel and prepare to lose a few hours down the rabbit hole.