The Terrifying Final Stand of a Hunter Who Stumbled Into a Bigfoot’s Kill Zone

In the rugged, high-altitude expanse of the Medicine Bow National Forest, the air doesn’t just get cold; it gets heavy. Spanning over two million acres across the border of Wyoming and Colorado, it is a land of 12,000-foot peaks and timber so dense it seems to swallow the sun. For Mark Trick, 44, the forest was his office. An experienced outdoorsman and former guide, Mark didn’t fear the wild—he understood its rhythm. But on October 19, 2019, Mark went into the woods with a mission that bordered on obsession. He wasn’t looking for elk or deer. He was looking for a Sasquatch..

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The Departure into the Blizzard

At 5:30 a.m., Mark’s white pickup truck pulled into a convenience store near the park entrance. Surveillance footage captured his last moments in civilization: he was dressed in light camouflage, a grey pair of trousers, and an orange hunting vest. He looked focused, perhaps even excited.

Mark drove to the Shangi Campground, the deep heart of the forest. He carried a heavy-caliber shotgun, a folding knife, and binoculars. This was a “Snow Hunt.” Mark believed that Bigfoot, usually masters of stealth, would only let down their guard during a blizzard.

At 11:00 a.m., Mark sent a final, frantic text to his girlfriend of 13 years, Kelly: “I almost killed a Bigfoot.” Kelly, who viewed Mark’s obsession as a harmless eccentricity, grew worried when the weather forecast turned lethal. A massive blizzard was rolling in. She called him, pleading with him to turn back. Mark answered, but the line was filled with a static-heavy silence before he abruptly hung up. He never answered again.

The Vanishing and the First Clues

When Mark failed to return, Kelly drove to the Shangi Campground herself. She found his truck at the intersection of Forest Highways 801 and 803. It was already buried in a foot of snow. Inside, the scene was baffling: Mark’s cell phone, wallet, and cigarettes were all sitting on the dashboard. His keys were tucked into the truck’s mailbox—a common habit of his.

Mark had returned to the truck. He had dropped off his modern lifeline—his phone—and then, for reasons known only to the shadows of the Medicine Bow, he had turned back into the blizzard, armed only with his shotgun.

The search was launched, but the snow was relentless. For a year, the mountain held its breath.

Then, on October 23, 2020, a tourist found Mark’s binoculars and his shotgun. The weapon was found in a state that chilled investigators: The shotgun was loaded. There was a round in the chamber, and another unfired bullet was stuck in the feeding tube. The gun had been fired at least once, but the final, desperate round remained trapped—a silent witness to an interrupted defense.

The Impossible Transport

Two years passed. In October 2022, a hunter named Chris and his nephew were trekking through Rock Mountain, a location nearly 17 miles (27 km) away from where Mark’s car had been found. There, under a ledge, they found a backpack containing Mark’s hunting license.

Search and rescue teams converged on the area and found a scene of total devastation:

The Remains: They found a human mandible (lower jaw), a few shattered ribs, and a folding knife.

The Trauma: Forensic analysis of the mandible showed that Mark had suffered a “catastrophic, massive blow” to the head before death.

The Clothing: His camouflage clothes had been shredded, not by the teeth of a scavenger, but by a force that had literally torn the fabric apart.

The “Shocking Truth” of the discovery lay in the geography. To reach Rock Mountain from his car, Mark would have had to hike for over six hours through a blizzard, across vertical terrain at an altitude of 10,000 feet, without food, water, or a phone. There is no known predator in North America—neither bear nor mountain lion—that kills a 180-pound man and transports his remains 17 miles across a mountain range.

The Missing 411 Connection

Investigator David Paulides, noted for his work on the Missing 411 cases, highlighted several “High-Strangeness” markers in Mark’s death:

The Loaded Weapon: Hunters found with loaded, unfired weapons suggest a threat so sudden and overwhelming that they couldn’t finish their defense.

The Geographical Leap: The distance between the gear (found 600m from the car) and the remains (found 17 miles away) defies biological explanation.

The Blizzard: Disappearances often peak during sudden, violent weather shifts.

Local rangers and hunters have whispered about sightings in the Shangi area since the 1970s. Mark himself had claimed he was being “stalked and intimidated” by a creature that threw stones at him—a classic intimidation tactic of the Sasquatch.

Theories: From Drugs to Portals

The official report eventually listed Mark’s death as an “Unexplained Supernatural Death,” though skeptics pointed to his history of prescription drug use for rehabilitation. They argued he might have had a drug-induced manic episode, explaining his “excited” state when seen by other hunters.

However, his father, Mike, a man who knew his son’s expertise, rejected this. “Mark wouldn’t get lost. He was a guide. He knew every tree in that park.”

Others point to the UFO Abduction Theory, citing the 1974 Carl Higdon case in the same region, where a hunter claimed to have been taken by a craft and deposited miles away.

Conclusion: The Hunter and the Legend

Whether Mark Trick died from a drug-fueled hike into the void or was “harvested” by the very creature he sought to hunt, the forest has kept the final secret. The bullet in the sugar tube of his shotgun remains unfired—a symbol of a man who saw his prey, reached for the trigger, and was silenced before he could pull it.

Mark Trick went into the Medicine Bow to prove the legend was real. In the end, he didn’t bring back a trophy; he left behind a mystery that serves as a grim warning to all who believe they are the apex predators of the mountain.

The Medicine Bow is not just a forest. It is a place where the rules of man end, and the rules of the shadows begin.