Storyteller Harvest Moon telling Glukeek

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CLICK to listen to “Glukeek Legend” as told by Quinault storyteller Harvest Moon. Recorded in the Quillayute Ballroom at Lake Quinault Lodge by Ilyssa Kyu, co-author Campfire Stories:Volume II Tales from America’s National Parks and Trails Photo courtesy imharvestmoon.com

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Glukeek Legend

As told by Harvest Moon and printed in the book “Campfire Stories: Tales of America’s National Parks and Trails – Volume II”

Long ago the women and the children had spent most of the day picking the sweet, tiny blackberries. As the sun was falling to the west, the women started gathering their baskets of berries and heading back to the village when they heard this rustling in the brush. As this rustling in the brush came closer, the women motioned with just their eyes to the children, who could run quickly enough and fast enough to run back to the long house. Now, for the children who were too young, they quickly picked them up, held them underneath their arms, took their heads, and held them close to the mother’s heart.

Quinault storyteller Harvest Moon, Photo from Turtle Island Storytellers

When the small children heard the fast beating of the mother’s heart, they knew they had to be very quiet. The women cupped their hands and brought them behind their ears in order to hear as well as a deer. As the rustling of the brush came closer, they knew it wasn’t deer because deer has a jumping sound through the brush. They knew it wasn’t bear. Oh, bear love those little blackberries as much as we did! But as long as bear had no cub, bear would run away.

But as the rustling of the brush came closer, all of a sudden, there was this horrible, horrible stench. Out of the brush came this huge monster. His legs were as big as tree trunks. His skin was covered with hair, and his eyes had a hypnotic red glow to them. This monster started chasing the women all through the berry patch. And, as he was chasing them, he took his huge big feet, and he started kicking over every basket of berries, wasting them on the ground.

Now, the women managed to escape, and they made it back to their longhouse. The men decided maybe we should go check that berry patch. When they got to the berry patch, they looked for footprints. None to be found. They looked for maybe hair that might have come off, but there was none to be found.

That night, when everyone was sound asleep, all of a sudden, the guard dogs stood up on all fours, and they just froze. Now, in the past, those guard dogs would have ran out and chased whatever it was that was coming. But in this case, they didn’t make a noise. The hair on the back of the dogs came straight up. And for the first and only time the dogs made a sound that went like this… woooOooOOooO0000000000000.

Now some of the people escaped from the secret tunnels we have in our longhouses. Others just froze. That monster came and started throwing pieces of driftwood on the roof, screaming and hollering through the entire night. Just before the sun came up, he disappeared.

Now, not having any sleep whatsoever, the salmon fishermen went down to the river and they started to pull up their traps. And as each of them pulled up their traps, lo and behold, there had not been one salmon caught. It was then the salmon fishermen looked up the river, and standing where no man would be able to stand in the Skookums, or the white rapids of the river, stood this monster.

He picked up his smelly, stinky feet and started laughing at the salmon fishermen. It was then they realized that as long as this monster was to stand in the river with his dirty, stinky feet… that the salmon people, you know, who live at the bottom of the ocean, will never travel up the river again.

Women aren’t going out to gather food, they’re not getting any sleep, and now no salmon. Now, this was happening throughout the entire Pacific Northwest. For the first and only time, all the chiefs gathered together for a meeting. One of the chiefs raised his talking stick and explained: “Let us find the strongest warrior. We’ll make a special spear that would be so sharp that it would penetrate that tough leather skin of the monster and we’ll be rid of him forever.”

As soon as he spoke those words, the Whale Hunter raised his arm and announced, “I should be the one that kills this monster. I kill whales that are ten times as big as this monster!”

Then Elk Hunter, he raised his arm and announced he should be the one that kills the monster because he knows the woods better than the Whale Hunter. Well, they argued back and forth until four young men brought forth this huge rock. The rock was as big as your arms could hold around.

They dropped this big rock in the middle of the floor of the longhouse. Then a young girl of six seasons came forward with a shell. In this shell was full of bear grease. She took a handful of the bear grease and she started smearing it all over the boulder. For whoever could carry this rock the furthest would be the one that would kill the monster.

Well, it’s been said that the warrior who carried that rock the furthest had carried it six and a half miles up the side of a mountain and back without dropping it. After the special spear had been made, as the warrior was leaving, he stopped and asked a very old elder, he said, “By what name shall I call this monster to his death?” And the old elder spoke and said, “His name is Glukeek.” So as he was leaving, you could hear “Gluuuuuukeek! Glukeeeeeeek! Gluuuuuuukeeeeeek!”

Weeks passed. The warrior never returned.

The parents who lost their son had a meal in his honor, and it was after the meal that an old, old elder came forward and said, “Let us dig a hole… dig a deep hole, put some branches on top of the hole and place your prettiest maiden on that very edge of the hole.” At that minute, everyone standing side by side started to dig this hole. It took two full moons to dig a hole deep enough that would keep this monster in the bottom of the pit. They just placed the prettiest maiden on the very edge of the hole when they heard the rustling in the brush. Glukeek came out of the brush, ran straight toward the maiden, made it halfway over the hole before he finally fell through.

When he hit the bottom of that pit he started screaming and hollering so loud it created avalanches in the Olympics. The people didn’t know if they should cover their ears or cover their nose. Days passed. He soon collapsed in the bottom of the pit.

It was then that my ancestors had enough nerve to peer into the pit. And as they gazed into the pit, they thought, “What are we going to do with him now? I don’t want to feed him, not after what he’s been doing to my tribe!” One of the young men raised his arm and said, “Let us put the dirt we took out and put it back in and we’ll bury him alive.”

“Well, as we put the dirt back in, he can arrange it at different levels and escape and kill us all!” A young woman raised her arm and announced, “Why don’t we just fill the hole with water and we’ll drown him?”

“Well, as we fill it up with water, he’d be able to float to the edge and escape and kill us all!”

Well, there were ideas upon ideas until finally came forward the old elder and he said, “Burn him!” The people took a couple steps back. “Burn this monster.” Well, his idea of capturing him in the hole worked, so his idea of burning him shall also. So the people quickly got into a line from the edge of the hole all the way to the beach. In this line of people, they started passing up large pieces of driftwood and putting them at each end of the pit.

On the night when there was no moon in the sky, all the people gathered around the pit. The parents who lost their son would be the ones selected to torch the first fire. And as they were bending down to torch the first fire, all of a sudden there was this rustling in the brush. Are there more than one of these monsters? Are there families of these monsters? Will we be tormented for the rest of our lives with these monsters?

About then, out of the brush, came their son. His head was bowed low, he didn’t want any eye contact, for all that had happened was that he had lost his way. The parents were so happy he was still alive, they quickly handed him the torch and he would torch the last fire. And as he was bending down to torch the last fire, Glukeek reared up from the bottom of the pit and he said, “You can’t kill me! Because I am going to get out. And I am going to bite each and every one of you, and suck your blood.”

Those people kept those fires burning for four days and three nights. The flames of the fire rose so high into the sky that the people on the other side of the Olympics actually thought Raven, the trickster, was creating a second son from the West. On the fourth night, when there was a small crest of a moon, all the people gathered around the pit. The chief took his walking stick and he started stirring the coals that accumulated at the bottom of the pit. And as he was stirring the coals, sparks from the fire rose high into the sky. And as they got higher, they started to cool and fall as ash. But as the ash touched the earth, it all came to life as fleas, mosquitoes, and ticks.

How many of you have been bitten by Glukeek? Nahashkah.

About This Story

Perhaps the most widely known lore of the Pacific Northwest is the humanlike, upright, ape- like figure we affectionately know as Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yeti-or, to the Indigenous people around Olympic National Park, Glukeek. People from all over the world flock to the Pacific Northwest for a chance to get their own glimpse of the beast and partake in the many Bigfoot community happenings-seminars, conferences, festivals, guided hikes, group expeditions, and trainings dedicated to Sasquatch lore. Here, many tales and personal encounters with Bigfoot are shared among true believers, which go beyond the conspiracy theorists and even attract celebrities, politicians, and scientific researchers. Many believers point to the presence of Sasquatch, or Sasquatch-like figures, in legends passed down for many generations in native tribes.