By Bigfoot, Virginia Off-Road’s Most Photographed Recluse
You people have no idea how hard it is to live a private life in the age of technology.
Once upon a time, I could stroll through the Blue Ridge without a soul knowing. Maybe a blurry sighting here, a mysterious footprint there. It was peaceful. Mysterious. Dignified.
Then came trail cameras. Then came dash cams. Then came you fine folks at Virginia Off-Road, uploading GoPro footage from every possible angle.
Do you know what it’s like to have your bad side immortalized on Instagram? I do. Every day.
The Struggle Is Real
Let me paint you a picture: I’m just walking to get a drink from the creek, minding my own business. Suddenly – click.
Another 4K, 60-fps, night-vision masterpiece of me blinking. Next thing I know, someone’s uploading it to Facebook with the caption: “Possible Bigfoot… or maybe just a bear with commitment issues.”
Rude.
What Trail Cameras Taught Me About Humans
After a few decades of being your unwilling wildlife model, I’ve learned a few things about you off-roaders.
- You’re curious. I respect that.
- You love technology almost as much as you love mud.
- You really need to angle your trail cameras better. Half of your “Sasquatch evidence” is just close-ups of your own bumpers.
But you know what? I actually appreciate the cameras now. They’ve made people more observant. You’re noticing animal patterns, trail conditions, even litter that wasn’t there before. That’s progress.
Trail Cameras for Good
As much as I grumble, your tech helps keep Virginia’s trails safe.
You catch storm damage early. You record trail misuse. You even help VAOR volunteers document erosion and fallen trees before they become major issues.
That’s smart stewardship. It’s also why I’ve stopped hiding from every motion sensor in the woods. These days, if I trip a camera, I give a thumbs-up. (Well, a three-fingered, hairy approximation of one.)
Dash Cams and Dignity
Let’s talk about dash cams. They’re great for capturing trail rides and, unfortunately, my bathroom breaks.
But seriously, I love seeing how off-roaders use them for safety and storytelling. They document trail reports, recovery techniques, and those moments when everyone jumps out to help someone stuck.
You’re not just recording memories, you’re preserving Virginia’s off-road history. Even if I end up photobombing it.
My PR Problem
Do you know how hard it is to maintain an aura of mystery when every Honda Pilot in the valley has a Ring camera? Impossible.
But here’s the deal: I’m done hiding. You want a photo? Fine. But I’m only posing for VAOR members. You folks at least clean up your own campsites.
Final Thoughts from the Fuzzy Guy
Trail cameras used to feel invasive. Now they feel like teamwork. They remind everyone that we share this land humans, wildlife, and a few of us mythological types.
So keep the cameras rolling, keep the trails clean, and if you catch me in 4K again, please — use the hashtag #FindBigfootVAOR.
I might just repost it… if I have Wi-Fi that day.
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