No Sign of Bigfoot in Hochatown

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HOCHATOWN, OKLAHOMA — The original Hochatown, named for a Choctaw family, is now submerged, flooded when the Mountain Fork River was dammed to form Broken Bow Lake. Like all land in America, it was first inhabited by Native Americans — in this case, members of the Choctaw tribe. Similar to Broken Bow, a few miles south, Hochatown grew in the early 20^th century around the Choctaw Lumber and Coal Company (now Dierks Forests). Once the surrounding virgin forest was largely cleared, the lumber company relocated. The post office closed in 1963. The cemetery and church were relocated to higher ground; the remaining buildings were demolished. By 1970, the first Hochatown was more than 200 feet underwater, as Broken Bow Lake was created for flood control, power generation, and tourism.

The second version of Hochatown is a mile west of the lake, along U.S. Hwy. 259. The town was officially incorporated in 2023 and has about 275 residents. The weekend population can swell to 50,000 as tourists flock to the area, which has more than 2,000 cabin rentals on Airbnb and other platforms. We are staying in one of the cabins to celebrate both Valentine’s Day and my Beautiful Mystery Companion’s birthday. The two events are just a few days apart.

We’ve been visiting this area since shortly after we met 18 years ago. It’s an easy two-hour drive from Longview. From our current home at Three Geese Farm, we travel three-quarters of a mile, turn left on 259, and drive straight to Hochatown. The highway seems almost always under construction, mostly two lanes, and very rural. One must carefully time a restroom stop in Idabel or find a tree. (That doesn’t work well for most women.)

When we first started visiting this area, there was not much north of Broken Bow. Hochatown had a few dining establishments, but pickings were slim. That has changed. Now there are brewpubs, a distillery, many restaurants, another Choctaw casino, souvenir shops and even an axe-throwing shop. (We skipped that.) The highway is always crowded on weekends. It is a popular destination for folks living in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. Turning left can be an adventure on a two-lane road with no turning lane. Especially in the rain.

The plan was to hike on Saturday. We rose to a soft drizzle. My BMC cooked breakfast, and we headed out to Beavers Bend State Park, a few miles away. It was a lovely drive, the whitecaps of Mountain Fork River on one side of the spillway, the lake on the other. Fly fishermen stood in the river, casting lines. As the rain got heavier, we ducked into the park’s Forest Heritage Center, which is filled with beautifully painted dioramas outlining the region’s history of being a major lumber producer.

We stopped to look at several cabins along the river, inside the state park. A park ranger told us there was an 11-month waitlist. As we got ready to drive away, a herd of deer approached. They were young and curious, far less shy around people than the deer that pass through our farm, who scatter at the first sight of humans. A couple of does cautiously approached the passenger side, thrilling my critter-loving BMC. We both managed to get decent photos before they departed. On the way home, a flock of wild turkeys crossed the road in front of our 4-Runner, too quickly to get photos but lovely to see.

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We did not run into Bigfoot, aka Sasquatch, while in Hochatown. A metal cutout of the fellow was outside our cabin. Actually, cutouts of Bigfoot are all over town. There have been “sightings” of this hairy, apelike fellow in the region since the 1970s. According to the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, the most recent sighting was in June 2024. A total of nine from McCurtain County have been reported to that group, which was founded in 1995. Bigfoot sightings have been reported from Oregon to New England, Oklahoma to Florida.

Hochatown has capitalized on the Bigfoot legend, with several businesses bearing Bigfoot in their names—even the axe-throwing place. Cabin rental companies encourage folks to come to Hochatown and look for Bigfoot. I remain a skeptic.

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Finally, the skies opened in earnest. There would be no hiking on this day. We headed back to the cabin to read by the gas-log fire, the door open so we could hear the patter of rain.

I was kind of hoping to catch a glimpse of Bigfoot out that door, but it was not to be.

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