Libation Liberation: The Bigfoot Lodge

Barrespondent Nico loves an unsubstantiated claim. Truly. Given that the Bermuda Triangle, the Loch Ness Monster and Area 51 remain a major part of his raison d'être one would think he runs out for the new edition of the Weekly World News at first light. Which is not entirely untrue. We feel the world would be much a less interesting place without the simple pleasure of freaks and cryptozoology.

Take Sasquatch for example. Perpetually bashful, unashamedly fuzzy, Bigfoot has been a major source of bar banter since his first sighting in 1811. While the wayward biped may just be a big hairy guy named Mel, we'll still relate what thousands of Pacific Northwesterners and Seattle Supersonics fans have known for decades.

Anyway, myths are easier to believe when you're lit up like a firecracker. Which is why we took our fascination with the giant fuzzball, gathered up our David Lynch movies, unfurled our flannel long johns and moseyed down to the Bigfoot Lodge at 1750 Polk St for a little Yeti-power.

SFist Nico, contributing.

A log cabin without the syrup, the Bigfoot Lodge recalls wintry nights north of the border. And what nor-side cabin would be complete without the taxidermy heads of moose, boar and jackalope pegged to its Lincoln Log walls. With a faux-fireplace lighting the bar's rear end ever so trashily, it gives you plenty of opportunity to tout your knowledge of Skunk Ape folklore. Yet, marginalizing your own personal sightings, above the scene is an eight foot tall chainsaw-carved rendition of the old skookum himself.

Drink specials happen Monday thru Friday, a plywood menu hypes Girl Scout Cookie drinks and DJs purportedly liven up the scene on the weekends, though we wondered just how they keep their needles in their grooves with would-be elbows jostling them at every turn.

If you happen to be shy about your personal space you may want to wait till after the weekend to go down to the Bigfoot to get your Hamms on. The space is tight, and being inside a kitschy bar on a Saturday night in the land of ruin may make you crave a good bear mauling. However, if Wednesday at 6pm finds you thirsty and pleading the lord of lush to give you one good happy hour, this may be your woodsy destination. Cheers!