It was just after lunch on October 20, 1967. The air in Northern California's Six Rivers National Forest was likely cooling down as the sun dipped toward the ridges. Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin were riding horses along a sandbar at Bluff Creek, a remote spot that had been ripped open by a massive flood a few years prior.
Then everything went sideways.
Suddenly, their horses spooked. Across the creek, something massive and hairy stood up from a crouched position. Roger’s horse reared, falling on its side and pinning his leg for a second. He scrambled up, grabbed his 16mm Kodak K-100 camera, and started running.
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What followed is the most famous 59.5 seconds of footage in the history of cryptozoology. We call it the Patterson-Gimlin film. You've seen it—the shaky, grainy clip of a large, bipedal creature walking with a strange, fluid gait, pausing for just a moment to look back over its shoulder.
The Men Behind the Lens
Honestly, these two weren't exactly a high-budget film crew. Roger Patterson was a local rodeo rider and amateur boxer from Yakima, Washington. He was obsessed with the idea of "Sasquatch." At the time, he was actually trying to shoot a docudrama about the legend. He’d even written a book titled Do Abominable Snowmen of America Really Exist? Bob Gimlin was his friend—a quiet, serious cowboy who didn't necessarily share Roger's obsession but was happy to go on a wilderness adventure. Gimlin provided the horses. He also provided the muscle and the steady hand.
While Roger was the "dreamer" and often characterized as a bit of a hustler, Bob was the man of his word. In fact, for decades, Bob Gimlin basically stopped talking about the film because people called him a liar or a fool. It wasn't until he was much older that he started attending conferences to share his side of the story.
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Why the Science Still Struggles
Skeptics love to say it's just a man in a suit. "It's a gorilla costume with some fur glued on," they claim. But when you talk to experts like Dr. Jeff Meldrum, a professor of anatomy and anthropology at Idaho State University, things get complicated.
Meldrum points to the "compliant gait." That’s a fancy way of saying the creature walks with its knees bent, unlike a human. If a human tries to walk like "Patty" (the nickname given to the creature), their hips and knees don't move the same way.
Then there’s the muscle movement.
In high-definition stabilized versions of the film, you can see muscles rippling in the thigh and back. In 1967, Hollywood special effects were... well, they were Planet of the Apes. Those suits were stiff. They didn't show individual muscle groups flexing under the skin.
- Height: Estimates range from 6 feet to over 7 feet.
- Weight: Based on the depth of the footprints, researchers estimate the creature weighed between 600 and 900 pounds.
- The Look: It had prominent breasts, leading the men to conclude it was a female.
The Controversy That Won't Die
Not everyone is a believer. Not by a long shot. A man named Bob Heironimus claimed years later that he was the guy in the suit. He said Roger paid him to wear it and walk across the creek.
But there’s a catch.
Heironimus couldn't produce the suit. He also couldn't quite replicate the walk when researchers asked him to. Plus, his physical proportions don't quite match the creature in the film.
Roger Patterson died of Hodgkin’s disease in 1972, just five years after the filming. He went to his grave swearing it was real. Bob Gimlin is still alive in 2026, and he’s never wavered. He says he saw a living, breathing animal that day—not a guy in a costume.
The friendship actually suffered for a long time. They had some legal disputes over the rights to the footage, and Gimlin felt like he’d been cheated out of the profits. They finally made up on Roger's deathbed.
What Most People Get Wrong
People think the film is just one continuous shot. It’s not. Roger was running, stopping, and starting. The first few seconds are a nauseating blur. It only stabilizes when he stops and braces the camera.
Another misconception is that they found the creature, filmed it, and then left. Actually, they stayed to make plaster casts of the tracks. The tracks showed "mid-tarsal breaks," a flexible part of the foot that humans don't have but great apes do.
Actionable Steps for the Curious
If you want to look into this yourself without falling into a "rabbit hole" of nonsense, here is how you should actually investigate:
- Watch the Stabilized Footage: Don't watch the original shaky version. Look for the "Munns Report" or stabilized digital scans. It reveals details about the hair and skin that the grainy versions hide.
- Visit the Location (Virtually): The Bluff Creek site was "lost" for years due to regrowth but was rediscovered in 2011. You can find GPS coordinates online if you're a serious hiker, though it's incredibly remote.
- Read the Skeptics: Look up Greg Long’s book The Making of Bigfoot. It presents the most aggressive case for a hoax. It's fair to see both sides of the coin.
- Listen to Bob Gimlin: He’s done numerous long-form interviews on podcasts like Sasquatch Chronicles. Hearing the man’s voice—how calm and consistent he is—gives you a different perspective than just reading a summary.
Whether you think it's the greatest hoax of the 20th century or the most important biological discovery ever caught on film, the story of Bob Gimlin and Roger Patterson remains a piece of Americana that won't go away. It’s a mystery that sits right on the edge of "maybe."
To dive deeper into the technical side of the footage, search for the Bill Munns frame-by-frame analysis which breaks down the skin-to-fur ratios that continue to baffle special effects artists today.