We didn't know it was his birthday. In our defense, there's no way we could have known. He doesn't have a social media presence. He doesn't send invitations. He just showed up at the trailhead with what appeared to be seventeen other Sasquatches and an expectant look on his face.
We had driven up to the Cascades to do a trail sampling — leaving bags of Foxhole Coffee at trailheads for hikers to find. We had a truck full of coffee, a camp stove, and a French press. We were not prepared for a party.
But you adapt.
We set up the stove. Started brewing. Batch after batch after batch. The Sasquatches formed a loose, patient line — which, honestly, was more organized than most human events we've attended. They each took a cup, found a spot, and sat down.
Nobody spoke. Eighteen Sasquatches and two humans, sitting in a mountain meadow, drinking Foxhole Coffee Dark Roast as the sun came up over the ridge.
One of them — we think it was Bigfoot, based on the size — held up his cup toward us before he drank. Like a toast.
We held ours up too.
We've been back every year since. We bring more coffee now.
Foxhole Dark Roast — for every occasion. → foxholecoffeeco.com