BC Fisherman Recalls 25-Minute Encounter With Two Sasquatches on Beach

There's something special about hearing Sasquatch stories straight from someone who grew up with them as part of their cultural landscape. That's exactly what you'll find over on the Codex of Curiosities YouTube channel, where host Ry sits down with Thomas Seawood, a Native guide from the Quakiwok people who spent decades working as a hunting guide and commercial fisherman along the British Columbia coast. Thomas doesn't just have one story. He has a lifetime of them. One of the most gripping accounts takes place aboard his 26-foot tin trailer on a commercial salmon seine boat. Him, his girlfriend Jojo, and two crewmen were anchored out, cooking crabs on a Coleman stove on the deck, when something slammed into the side of the trailer. Hard. Thomas goes through the mental checklist every witness probably runs through in that split second, branch falling, kerosene cans, flying squirrel, before landing on the truth. Then came the whistling chirp, the lip smacking, and what he calls "yakbala" in his native language, that overwhelming stench that nearly makes you gag. Anyone who's spent time in Sasquatch country knows exactly what that smell is. Thomas knew immediately. Tonafa. The Sasquatch. What happened next is the kind of encounter researchers dream about. Two figures walked past the side of that 26-foot trailer, which Thomas estimates stood about 8.5 to 9 feet high. The bigger one was just a few inches shorter than the trailer itself. Under a half moon with no wind and no rain, all four of them watched from the deck. Thomas grabbed the spotlight, had his crewman guide him to the right angle, and hit the switch. There they were. A massive male and a female, illuminated in the four to five-foot high grass and spruce saplings above the high tide mark. The male dropped to his knee and looked directly at the spotlight. Two red eyes reflecting back. The female dropped into a fetal position with her back to them, hands grabbing her head, one eye visible under her right armpit. Thomas describes seeing the crack of her buttocks and the gray-black soles of her feet, muddy from walking the wet sand at the high tide mark. Here's where things get really interesting for anyone studying Sasquatch behavior. Thomas describes watching the male's eyes change color in real time. They went from scarlet poppy red to light red, then dark orange, light orange, orangish yellow, yellowish green, and finally yellow, like a deer's eyes. His theory? The Sasquatch had walked out with his mate to do some kind of harvest when they encountered the boat with the Coleman stove hissing, the boom box blasting, and the crew cackling and swearing over a game of crib. Thomas believes the rage built up in the Sasquatch, and when the spotlight hit, all that adrenaline, testosterone, whatever you want to call it, manifested in those red eyes. He compares it to spotlighting a buck during rut season. Same principle. The eyes calmed as the Sasquatch calmed. Jojo tried to grab the camera, but the 35mm had no film on board. Classic. The one moment you need it most. And then came the conversation about guns. Thomas admits he and the crew contemplated it for a split second. Millionaires, right? But Jojo shut that down fast, reminding him of his tribe's law. You never harm them. You never point a gun at them. And you definitely don't hunt them. Because the curse will come, and it won't come for you. It'll come for your loved ones. Thomas backs this up with a story from the Second World War era on the same island where his abandoned native village sits. Two men rowed up the island at night with a big battery-powered spotlight, listening quietly. They heard something, hit the switch, and saw two green eyes. One of them fired a 12-gauge expecting a mink, five dollars a pelt, big money back then. The Sasquatch put his hands on its face and screamed, rolling around in the bushes with buckshot in its face. Within six months, one of those men drowned outside the village in the fog, screaming for his life, body found the next day. The other got stabbed and killed during the summer salmon season. The tribe took it as confirmation. Harm a Sasquatch, and the bad omen finds your family. Back to the boat encounter, Thomas and the crew tried everything to get the pair moving. Throwing potatoes and eggs off the bow to splash near them. Nothing. After about 25 minutes, worried about the old batteries in his 1927-built boat, Thomas shut the spotlight off. The moment he did, they heard them get up and move through the foliage. Then came the sound that anyone familiar with Sasquatch reports will recognize. A crack. A push. A dead tree coming down. Thomas mentions this is indicative behavior. When Sasquatch are upset, they push down dead trees. It's a statement. A warning. A "get out of my space" move that leaves evidence behind. The whistling chirp Thomas describes is something that comes up repeatedly in credible Sasquatch encounters across North America. Researchers like the late Dr. Grover Krantz and others have noted these vocalizations as distinct from any known animal in the Pacific Northwest. Combined with the eye shine phenomenon and the territorial tree-pushing behavior, Thomas's account checks a lot of boxes that serious researchers look for when evaluating witness testimony. What makes this interview worth your time isn't just the boat encounter. Thomas has multiple sightings spanning decades, and his perspective as a Native guide brings a cultural context that's often missing from mainstream Sasquatch coverage. The respect his people have for these beings, the protocols, the warnings passed down through generations, it all adds another layer to understanding why so many Indigenous communities across the continent treat Sasquatch not as a cryptid to be hunted or proven, but as a relative to be respected. Head over to the Codex of Curiosities channel and give this one a watch. Thomas Seawood's stories deserve to be heard.