So Supernatural - LEGEND: The Yeti

Episode Date: October 4, 2024

The Yeti, also known as the Abominable Snowman, is a legendary creature said to inhabit the Himalayan mountains of Asia. Described as a large, ape-like creature, the Yeti has captured the imagination of explorers and adventurers for centuries, but conclusive evidence of its existence remains elusive. For a full list of sources, please visit: sosupernaturalpodcast.com/legend-the-yeti So Supernatural is an audiochuck and Crime House production. Find us on social!Instagram: @sosupernatualpodTwitter: @_sosupernaturalFacebook: /sosupernaturalpod

If you ask me, one of the greatest gifts in life is being able to travel. There's nothing more grounding than getting to see the world, tasting unique food, taking in the sights, exploring the nation's history and culture, their folklore. What's wild to me is that even in this day and age, there is still so much of our planet that has yet to be explored, like the Himalayan mountains, more specifically, Mount Everest. Now, I've never climbed it, but that's because it is not my idea of a vacation. I'm more of a cocktail by the beach or in a cabin kind of gal. Then again, I'm not sure many people would consider summiting Mount Everest a relaxing getaway. And that's probably why there is still so much about the Himalayas that we don't know anything about. You need guts, stamina, rigorous training to brave those

conditions. Not to mention it's full of terrifying stories that would keep even the darest of devils away. Particularly one about a dangerous beast. A giant, shaggy-haired primate that stands on two feet and has been said to butcher locals on the mountainside, a creature so monstrous you'd think it can't possibly be real. But the stories passed down through the centuries say otherwise. So it's time to talk about one of my favorites, the most mysterious cryptid in the East. One I will thankfully never meet sipping on a Mai Tai on a beach in South Carolina. I, of course, am talking about word Yeti? Well, if you would have asked me a few months ago, I probably would have said a really expensive water bottle that I have all over the house, including in my bedroom, in the living room.

And you know what, Rasha, did you know that the water bottle of the Yeti was actually named after the Yeti? No. But for real, you know what? Every single Christmas, I watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. And that is truly where I got the abominable snowman from. True story. True story. Abominable snowman from. True story. True story.

True story. Abominable snowman. Abominable. Abominable. Abominable. Say that five times fast. Abominable. Abominable snowman.

The Yeti. But you know what? Now, while I think the Yeti is a household name, it's maybe not just for the reasons I did before. I think for many, it's synonymous with the word monster. And honestly, I didn't even realize that that association was so real for so many people. But when Ashley sent us the file on this thing and we dug into the research, I got really excited because I had no idea.

But there's evidence this cryptid isn't just the stuff of nightmares. But as we all know, nightmares don't actually physically tear humans or yaks apart. So get ready. Today, Yvette and I are going to tell you all about the Yeti and why its reputation goes way beyond some insidious piece of mythology. Maybe because it may be a very real creature, one that's been stalking the Himalayas for centuries. In 2015, reporters from the BBC were in Bhutan, a country just east of Mount Everest. They're interviewing people in a remote little town about this were in Bhutan, a country just east of Mount Everest. They're interviewing people in a remote little town about this beast in the mountains, one that's been spoken about for centuries by all different people living in the area. But they get a real zinger when a 73-year-old man named Kama says he heard about an incident that occurred somewhere to the east.

He doesn't say when it happened. Just that it did. That's right. Kama refers to it as, quote, an incident that took place further east, which somehow makes me think it was during his lifetime. So no sooner than like 1930 is my guess. The story begins with a group of men hiking in the mountains. As far as I can tell, Kama doesn't know them personally,

and he wasn't there to see it himself. But he knows they were out collecting wood to carve these masks that are used during Bhutanese festivals. The festivals happen annually, and the masks are part of these sacred dances that are supposedly meant to teach lessons about life, morality, and also purify someone's soul. But here's the thing. These guys seemingly don't actually get their supplies that year, at least not on this trip, because in the middle of the sprawling mountain wilderness, a yeti finds them. Now, I'm just thinking, like, what does this thing look like?

I mean, does it quite literally look like a human with a furry animal suit on? I know, it's seriously out of a movie. But Kalma doesn't provide a great description of this thing, maybe because he didn't actually see it for himself. So I guess we can just imagine. Like this creature's at least six feet tall, right? And he walks upright on two legs, like a human only not covered in either reddish or white fur.

He's impossibly strong with quivering muscles and primate-like features. I mean, from what I've seen, that's how most people describe a Yeti. I think that's safe to say. But when they see this thing, the men do what you hope you do in this type of a situation.

They flee, thank God. But one of the guys splits off from the pack, which ends up being a pretty bad move because the Yeti is like, oh, hello, gentleman with no one to protect himself. I'm going to follow you. Now, this guy stumbles on a small house in the woods, which up in the mountains isn't exactly normal to come across. So he got super lucky. He rushes inside, probably thinking, phew, he's safe. But wooden walls aren't enough to stop the Yeti.

Exactly right. It literally tears the house down trying to get to its prey. And when it does, the Yeti rips into the poor man, brutally dismembering him piece by piece. And like you said, we aren't 100% sure exactly when this attack happened, but let's just say it was like 1930-ish. And I know that the stories about the Yeti began way earlier than that. Dating back an astounding 6,000 years, in fact. Like, we're talking the dawn of civilization as we know it. Ancient Sumerian, Mesopotamian times. It seemed to start out as this pre-Buddhist

myth from the Tibetan area about a snowman who lived at very high altitudes. The only recollection I have of any snowman, especially growing up in Hawaii, is like from like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer or Frosty the Snowman. Like that's it. I don't have any other kind of remembrance of any kind of snowman. Yeah. I mean, I do because I grew up in Reno. So before you came. Yeah. Before I came to Hawaii. So like I but I think of Frosty the Snowman. Right. Now, it makes sense why some early Tibetan religions viewed the Yeti as this god of hunting, hunters allegedly made sacrifices to honor this deity and ensure their protection. Some early religions were even rumored to use Yeti blood for rituals, after literally seasoning it with mustard and a dash of poison.

Which makes me wonder if Yetis were a little more abundant back in those days. I mean, especially if you could just run out and find some Yeti blood. Yeah, right. I mean, I know that the Native Americans, when they would hunt buffalo, you know, they would use some of the buffalo blood as a ritual, but... Oh, I didn't know that. Yeah. So it could be, it is a thing, I would think. Well, during the next few hundred years, the Yeti seemed to get less godlike and more monstery as more sightings were reported. At some point, it was even given a few, what I'm going to call quirky attributes.

Like it was said to have, this is really bizarre, you guys. It was said to have backwards feet, making it hard for hunters to know what direction it went in. And people also recommended that you run downhill to flee a Yeti. So this would force its bangs to fall into its eyes and obscure its vision. And depending on who you asked, it couldn't bend over like it was unable to duck or crouch or whatever. That's supposedly why traditional homes in Bhutan have small doorways even today, which should tell you just how seriously this region takes the Yeti. Yikes.

The ripple effect of what someone might deem as an old wives' tale is far more engraved in a country's culture than most people realize. And I know, despite having all of these precautions, a Yeti sighting seemed pretty rare, if almost unheard of, thank goodness. It was said to live high up and apparently only came near civilization in the depths of winter, probably to flee the cold. So sort of like the Grinch, that's what I was thinking too. But this whole Yeti thing, rare to see or not, kind of sucks for the people in the area, because not only did they have to contend with the arrival of the freeze,

they had to worry about a vicious monster possibly coming in with it. I'm guessing this is why the Yeti, or as he was sometimes called, the Glacier Man, became a big part of storytelling in these mountain communities. It was important to pass on Yeti tales through the generations, especially to kids, because the Yeti represented the dangers of the vast, frigid wilderness. Something to be feared and definitely respected. The TLDR for the youth was, don't go into the mountains alone because if the cold doesn't get you, the Yeti will. And that's like a dumb whammy, right?

I mean, you're keeping your kids safe because there's a mystical creature living in the mountains or not. I mean, it's just not a good idea to travel solo up there as a kid, period. But they're also making sure that they don't let their curiosity get the best of them, because if they do, it could be deadly. But beyond the hills of the Himalayas, the Yeti's reputation was apparently so ferocious that the stories about it spread across the globe. Like even Alexander the Great supposedly heard about it. You know, the Macedonian king who casually overthrew the Persian empire and altered the fabric of the ancient world around, I don't know, 300 BCE? Yeah, that Alexander the Great was apparently also a little weary of this Yeti, Glacerman thingy, whatever you want to call him. In 326-ish BCE,

Mr. Great conquered the Indus Valley, where Pakistan and parts of India are today. And there, he reportedly asked some locals to bring him a Yeti. Oh yeah, just casually ask, hey, bring me a Yeti. Just go up there in the crazy terrain and bring me a Yeti. Bring me back a Yeti. Oh yeah, just casually ask, hey, bring me a Yeti. Just go up there in the crazy terrain and bring me a Yeti. Bring me back a Yeti, please. But yeah, they said no, and not because they didn't

believe it or felt it was some dubious legend, but because they claimed the creature couldn't survive at such a low altitude. So they knew it was a thing, and it seemed like they didn't want to mess with it. Admittedly, I don't have a ton of details on this story and what happens next. It's one of those small antidotes that's repeated across a bunch of random publications. But if it's true, it's evidence that the Yeti was newsworthy enough for a literal king to hear about it. And maybe vicious enough that no one would indulge his request to snag one. Yeah, and listen, this idea of a yeti who was going around chasing after locals and tearing people apart wasn't exactly the thing that I had in my head, you know what I'm saying? But now, as I'm reading all of this, I'm like, what are the other versions of the Yeti?

Do some people view them as a vicious and formidable monster, but others view them as an adorable, cuddly version of a not-so-monstery guy? That was me. That was me. Okay, well, I think the words adorable and cuddly might be a stretch. But many locals in the Himalayas will tell you that there are different kinds of yetis, just like there are different types of bears or big cats, and each subset has a varying degree of crankiness. This is probably because the legend has spanned centuries, and with time comes a fun game of generational telephone. But also, there are lots of different cultures that touch the Himalayas. Even today,

each region has their own take, different fur colors, different qualities and attributes, maybe even different theories on where it came from. Which, in my opinion, is even more of a reason to believe it exists, since so many people have their own stories about it. That makes sense to me, because if it comes from all different types of regions, then obviously the Yeti exists. For example, the Bhutanese consider the Yeti an endangered species, not like put it on the list with the snow leopard and the Himalayan must deer endangered, but you know, metaphorically so. They even set up a national park to protect the Yeti from the spread of civilization, the Saktang Wildlife

Sanctuary. It covers over 250 square miles of land that's thought to be the Yeti's habitat. It's similar how the Sherpas in Nepal mountains feel. What's often misunderstood about the Sherpas is that they're actually their own ethnic group, numbering about 150,000 people. Some of them have become well known for their strength and physical prowess, which is why they offer their help as guides on expeditions with other mountaineers. So you can appreciate their expertise when it comes to the lay of the land here, and they generally consider the Yeti to be a wild animal. Even within the same country, there are differing opinions. Some Nepalese people outside of the Sherpa community think the Yeti is a bad omen or part demon. But these are semantics. Demon or not, many who live in this region seem to be

convinced it is a real creature. This reminds me of a story that happened in a mountain village in Nepal called Kundi, probably from sometime in the 1980s. Kundi is high up in the Himalayas and pretty remote. That means lots of rocky terrain and wilderness. For the people who live there, it doesn't seem uncommon to bring livestock to graze in upper parts of the valley during the summer. One day, this local woman takes her yak herd to one of these elevated pastures. And for those who aren't familiar with a yak, it's sort of like a shaggy haired, kind of like a large ox, you know, and they're native to this region. If you look them up,

they're like super cute. They are super cute. Very cute. At first, everything seems fine. Her yaks are feasting on grass. She's taking in the scenery, but then something grabs her hair from behind. Whatever it is, it throws her. Not a push or a shove. This is a literal toss through the air. She flies more than 15 feet straight into a rock. Her head hits a stone and it lights out, but only for a few minutes, she's still alive. When she wakes up, she sees two of her yaks are dead. Their skulls have been cracked like eggs, and a figure is hunched over one of their heads, licking up blood. But this woman has the smarts to lie still, probably thinking she'll play dead until the figure leaves. When it finally does, she books it back to her village. Yeah, she's like, I'm sorry, Yaks. I'm gone. See ya.

Now, this story was told secondhand by the woman's daughter to Geographical magazine. The article doesn't give a detailed description of the figure, but to her, it fits the bill of legends she's been hearing her entire life. She's thinking Yeti. But if you don't buy her story,

there's plenty of others to choose from, like the Nepalese man who claims he shot a Yeti with a bow and arrow, or the yak herder who came across a Yeti feasting on a rodent. For such an elusive, maybe even mythical creature, it's been spotted a fair amount, and most people in the region have either encountered it themselves or heard of someone who has. But it doesn't seem like most of these sightings ever came with proof to verify their stories. Like no one has ever captured one alive or dead. But it doesn't seem like locals ever wanted to capture it. They've long feared it, respected it, and generally left it alone. However, that all changed in 1951,

when a group of European explorers arrived and sparked a worldwide hunt for the Yeti. It's the fall of 1951 in the Nepal Himalayas. A group of English mountaineers and their guides are on a mapping expedition through the region. They're on the hunt for a route that'll lead them to the summit of Everest, which, by the way, no one has reached at this point. In 1951, touching its peak was still unattainable, just like catching the Yeti. Now, the guy leading this group is a renowned explorer named Eric Shipton. Also in the mix is the expedition's doctor, Michael Ward. They're trucking along, moving up and down glaciers, naming peaks and valleys as they go.

And at one point, they descend an incline and reach a snowy field. It's flat, but still really high up. They're at an elevation of about 15,000, 16,000 feet. Which is like 10 to 11 Empire State Buildings and still about 13,000 feet from the peak. Right. Spread out all around the field are two sets of footprints. One is misshapen and not very well defined. Kind of whatever. But the other one is incredible.

Perfectly crystallized in the stiff snow, like prints in cement. Ward's a doctor, so he's used to being really precise in his observations. But unfortunately, in this scenario, he doesn't have the right tools for perfect measurements. So he uses his own boot, which he knows is about 12 to 13 inches long, or about a UK size 8 and a half. This is what would be considered slightly smaller than the average adult male. I'm not judging, just commenting for scale. But you'll find it interesting to hear the print ends up being the same length as his boot, only it's twice as wide. It has a broad big toe and five smaller ones, like a human foot, but also not. Now, Ward has heard of locals from Tibet and Nepal with misshapen feet,

given the limited medical access in the area. He's also heard of people walking barefoot in the snow for long periods of time. But I still find it strange to imagine a person casually wandering around at such a high altitude. Yeah, that's just crazy. And on top of that, barefoot. Like, what? Could you imagine? No.

Shipton has a camera, so he snaps some pictures. The men use a pickaxe and Ward's boot for scale. The group then follows the footprints all the way down the glacier, but they don't see any sign of what might have made them. But at some point, they ask a Sherpa about them, and they're told, plain and simple, the footprints belonged to a Yeti. So Ward and Shipton go back to England, armed with their footprint pics and the name of the beast that made them. The photos hit the media, and bam, the Western world goes nuts. Which maybe seems like a little bit of an overreaction. I mean, hey, it's just a photo of a footprint, not an actual creature, right? Yes.

However, this is back in 1951, and Shipton is a well-respected mountaineer. He's a professional. And he's offering proof that a new species is on the cusp of discovery. Which makes sense. New species are discovered every year. 211 were found in the Himalayas alone between 1998 and 2014. And okay, most of the species were plants or insects. But they did find a primate with a snub nose that adorably sneezes when it rains.

It's called the Mianar, snub-nosed monkey. So it stands to reason that back in the 1950s, the Western world was open to idea of new species, especially since things like UFO and the Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot were also all being talked about. Everyone wanted to be the first to prove these things existed. Which is why this photo of the Yeti's footprints leads to a flood of expeditions to the Himalayas. The influx is enough that the Nepalese

government actually steps in. In 1959, they even sent regulatory guidelines on Yeti hunting to foreign embassies. The rules said that anyone seeking the Yeti needed a permit, they couldn't kill it, and they had to report any information, sightings, or artifacts to Nepal's government. From that came a number of relics, like hair, skin, even scalps. The list goes on. Things found either by the people living in the Himalayas or explorers that were assumed to belong to a Yeti. And I know what you're thinking. Why do we care about a footprint if there were actual Yeti body parts available. Hello, you read my mind. Well, Shipton was just one of the first to loudly tell the Western world, hey, look over here, a big old monster might exist.

The people of the Himalayas have known that for centuries. But I guess it was really hard to prove any of these artifacts had actually come from the Yeti. Exactly. Because when they were investigated, most people didn't pass the sniff test. New Zealand mountaineer Edmund Hillary, the first guy to summit Everest, he took a team of scientists to the Himalayas in 1960. Their goal was to look into whether or not the Yeti was real. They listened to stories and checked out some of those so-called Yeti body parts. But most seem pretty debunkable. Like his team determined an alleged Yeti hand was just human bones held together with wire.

And there were some Yeti hides that were just bear skins. There's even a scalp that Hillary sent to Paris, Chicago, and London for testing. Scientists think it's from a kind of goat called a zero. Which isn't to say people were definitely lying. The supposed Yeti scalps Hillary examined were viewed as respected artifacts and displayed in monasteries, meaning people might have actually believed they were pieces of a Yeti and treated them with admiration and awe.

But of course, the Himalayas were in the midst of a Yeti fever. A piece of the Glacier Man would fetch a fortune, I would imagine. So I'm sure some relics that Hillary examined were intentionally fake. But after Hillary's debunking vacay, there's a shift in perception. People start to think of the Yeti as more of a myth than an actual animal. I mean, that makes sense. Like, if this thing really does exist, then why is it so damn hard to find and to prove? Right. Even the recently discovered

snub-nosed monkey couldn't hide forever. Hunters could literally hear it sneezing in the rain. Aw, hachoo! So cute. And then it got caught on film by a wildlife camera. My point being, after almost a decade of experienced explorers rushing to capture the Yeti, no one actually had. But that's not to say these explorers abandoned the region altogether, because in 1986, another European came face-to-face with our snowman. His name was Reinhold Messner, and he was this grizzled Italian who, get this you guys, was missing seven toes from a past expedition. Like when we say hardcore, that's hardcore. Hardcore. So he's alone on this trip

with the intention of following an ancient Sherpa route through the Himalayas. Now again, I don't know if you guys have googled the Himalayas, but this is like treacherous territory. And to go by yourself is literally crazy. So he's doing this without a guide. Messner gets lost, which throws his whole schedule off. So one night, it's after dark, and he still hasn't reached his intended campsite. He's hurrying along when he sees a figure over seven feet tall that steps into his path. It stands on two legs like a person. Actually, it seems so human that Messner thinks

it's his own shadow, which he realizes it's not when the creature darts into the forest faster than he's ever seen an animal move. I mean, he goes over to where the thing disappeared and sees a huge footprint in the dirt. Mester's probably thinking, okay, time to go get me out of here. Yeah, right. Like, bye. I would be, right? Bye, Felicia. Exactly. I mean, he hurries out of there, but around midnight, he hears a whistling sound. Then he sees the creature again as it dashes behind a tree and peers back out at him.

Like, what is he doing? Taunting him or playing peekaboo? Peekaboo! This time, Messner gets a good look. It's covered in hair and seems both hulking and nimble, with powerful muscles, short legs, and long arms. And it stinks. And he later relates the smell to frozen garlic and dung. Messner doesn't have to inhale this stench for long, though. The thing runs, and Messner, he gets out of there too. And eventually, he finds a place to wait out the night. When he later tells a group of locals about the encounter, they seem scared. And according to them, Messner survived a Yeti.

But he becomes fixated on this creature and dedicates the next 12 years of his life trying to find it again. I can only imagine what he went through that night. And then, of course, his obsession grew after that. Yeah, because once you see it, how can you not stop searching for it, right? It's real. It's there. It's tangible. It's in front of him, right? He speaks to locals around the Himalayas and examines artifacts like Hillary had, and he tours the wilderness. All this research leads him to conclude it does not exist.

He thinks people are mistaking the Himalayan brown bear for a Yeti. Nope, I don't see that. He knows he did not see a bear. He knows that he did not see a bear 12 years prior to that. I don't see that. He knows he did not see a bear. He knows that he did not see a bear 12 years prior to that. I don't buy it. But it was, I mean, it was dark, you know, who's to say? I guess. I mean, after 12 years, you just give up. So, you know, he's like been pounding the pavement trying to find it again. So. I know, but I'm sure a whole lot of revelations and details led Messner to this conclusion. I get that. But here's what I don't love.

Messner is an experienced explorer. This guy is missing seven toes. He has to know what a bear looks like, even in the darkness. What he saw that night was so unsettling, it haunted him for years. I hear you. But, I mean, especially because Yeti sightings continue for over the next few decades and massive footprints were seen and photographed again in 2007 in the Everest region. Then the BBC does a documentary on the Yeti and finds an actual murder attributed to it in the Indian Himalayas sometime around 2008. A construction worker was found by a mountain path with his neck broken.

The police report even claimed a Yeti was responsible, largely because a footprint bigger than a human hand was found at the scene. Authorities also found a strand of what they thought was animal hair on the worker's body. They sent it in for testing. But before you get too excited, it's not from a Yeti. It's not even hair. It's some kind of plant material, like, I don't know, a leaf or grass or something, which is definitely a bummer. But what's cool about all of this is authorities didn't have to just wonder if the supposed hair was from a Yeti. Like I mentioned, they could now

test it. And that means forensic and genetic experts can now officially start to treat the Yeti like the cunning serial killer it is by examining its DNA. In 2013, the scientific community decided to use DNA testing to see if they could get to the bottom of the Yeti mystery. Enter Brian Sykes, this hotshot geneticist from Oxford. And he's actually the first person to find DNA in ancient human bones, which gives him, you know what, it gives him a lot of props in the field of genetics. Sykes has already dabbled in testing for another famous cryptid, Bigfoot. A year earlier, he analyzed a whole bunch of supposed Bigfoot artifacts and unfortunately didn't find anything that suggested a massive primate was lurking in the Redwoods. Okay, okay. I have to jump in here because Bigfoot is very prevalent where I now

live in the Pacific Northwest. And I think definitely Bigfoot and Yeti could be related in that Bigfoot exists too. Okay, carry on. I do. I'm with you on that. High five. But okay, either way, Sykes wanted to find out more about Bigfoot's snowy cousin, the Yeti. So he put out a worldwide request for Yeti artifacts. And I'm talking teeth, hair, skin, all the things, like all the things. And he ended up testing 36 samples and comparing their DNA to the database of animals, which was a big deal. And it meant scientists were taking the Yeti seriously enough to investigate it. But again Sykes right he's no slouch. The fact that he's taking up this cause feels similar to the stamp of validity Shipton's photograph provided in the 50s. So Sykes tests the DNA

he gets the results back and and... Oh no, what? It's pretty disappointing. It seems like people either intentionally sent him phony artifacts, or they were just mistaken. Some of the results are linked to cows, some to horses, and bears. I mean, actually, a lot of bears. Which is what Reinhold Messner thought too. Look, I hate to say it, but it does make sense. Bears sometimes walk upright, and varying types

do live in the Himalayas. To me, this might account for the locals' belief that there are different kinds of yetis. Right, but there's a wrinkle. Two of the samples that were linked to the bears weren't exactly a straightforward match. They're both hair samples. One is from northern India and was taken from a 40-year-old mummified animal corpse thought to be a yeti. The other was a single hair that was found in a Bhutanese forest. But still, Sykes thinks both were connected to a polar bear, specifically an ancient subset that was closely related to the brown bear and existed between 40,000 and 120,000 years ago. So yeah, that's pretty amazing. But, you know, the naysayers are quick to check his work. Two different teams of

scientists decided the samples are Himalayan brown bears, a pretty rare breed, and a group of doctoral students concluded the DNA sequences Sykes used were either corrupt or incomplete, and probably because the samples were old and possibly degraded. Plus, you have to consider this. Even if these tests prove the samples were derived from familiar animals, that doesn't disprove the existence of the Yeti. It just means none of those specific artifacts are from the Yeti. Yeah, I mean, that's a great point. And like we said earlier, new species are being discovered all the time. And if new species can hide in the mountains, old ones can too. So one theory is that the Yeti is an ancient relative of humans that wound up in an isolated community and have

continued to thrive there. Sykes did find one of his earlier Bigfoot samples to be human after all. I am disappointed that none of the tests support my favorite theory, that the Yeti is some sort of giant ape. Look at the physicality. Hairy, human-like face, walks upright. Some of the Yeti sightings involved a reddish-haired creature. When anthropologist Charles Stoner toured the Himalayas in search of the Yeti, he showed locals a picture of an orangutan. Many identified it as the Yeti or close to it. I mean, I do. I suppose it's possible. Today, orangutans live in tropical, low-lying climates. But 10,000 years ago, they were in the Himalayan foothills. So I don't know,

maybe they originated the Yeti myth or some variation of this species survived in the modern times, right? I mean, it could be a crossbreed between all of them. I don't know. Yeah, it could be. And I mean, well into modern times. As recently as 2019, the Yeti was spotted in a new landscape, social media. In April of that year, a few members of the Indian Army were on an expedition in Nepal. They were traipsing through the snow near the remote Mount Makalu when they saw a series of massive footprints all over the mountainside, about 32 inches each.

So about the size of a mid-range flat screen TV. Not huge as far as a TV goes, but enormous for footprints. The soldiers reported their findings and it somehow reached the person in charge of their ex account because it goes out in a tweet that reads, quote, for the first time, a hashtag Indian Army mountaineering expedition

has cited mysterious footprints of mythical beast Yeti. This elusive snowman has only been cited at Makalubaru National Park in the past. The account also attaches photos showing the unusual footprints next to the soldiers. Army higher-ups even took these prints seriously. So much so, they thought it was a good idea to tell the world and report it to what BBC referred to as experts. And we've seen this play out time and time again. Legitimate organizations from experienced Sherpas to well-respected explorers to renowned geneticists to government institutions have all one time or another believed in the Yeti enough to seriously investigate it.

Like seriously. Seriously. In the meantime, the people of the Himalayas continue to deal with the Yeti. In fact, there's an account from a Bhutanese nomad as recently as 2022. He saw the animal in a remote mountainside, looking at him from behind a tree. He said it was at least nine feet tall with huge hands and a monkeyish face, like a gorilla. Which, by the way, wasn't identified as an actual species until 1847. I don't know if you knew that. But before that, early explorers thought gorillas were monsters.

Does that sound familiar to you? Yes. I think that's the big lesson here. There are plenty of things we accept now that used to seem far-fetched, like gorillas. But we continue to think that until we see something for ourselves. It's not real. Yeah, right? It's like you put them all together. You have Yeti, you have the Bigfoot, you have... Loch Ness Monster. Loch Ness Monster.

I mean, they all start to seem like Neanderthal. I can't even get that right. Neanderthal. Caveman times, you know, combination of apes, right? Yeah, it could be. Could be. Could be all the things. All the things.

In the Himalayas, a lot of terrain is unsurvivable or difficult to access. Miles of this range are yet to be explored or prodded by development. Once we've crawled over every square inch of this planet and found there's nothing resembling a Yeti, then we can rule it out. At least, in my humble opinion. Until then, if you decide to pass on those beachy cocktails and travel to some remote corner of the world, tread carefully.

Because it's probably better to wonder if the Yeti is real than to face it yourself. This is So Supernatural, an Audiochuck original produced by Crime House. You can connect with us on Instagram at sosupernaturalpod, and you can visit our website at sosupernaturalpodcast.com. Join Yvette and me next Friday for an all-new episode. So, what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?