William Hugh Knight

William Hugh Knight was, according to an American news report published in 1922 and sourced to the London Times, an explorer and member of the "British Royal Societies Club" (referring perhaps to the Royal Society) who claimed to have sighted a Yeti during an expedition to Tibet, an encounter that was said to have taken place shortly before the "last Tibetan war" (presumably referring to either the Younghusband Mission of 1903, an invasionary action by British Indian forces against the Ganden Phodrang regime, or the Qing Expedition of 1910, a similar invasion initiated by the Chinese ruling dynasty).

In the report, Knight said of the encounter: "Speaking to the best of my recollection, he was a little under six feet high, almost stark naked in that bitter cold &mdash; it was the month of November. He was a kind of pale yellow all over, about the color of a Chinaman, a shock of matted hair on his head, little hair on his face, highly splayed feet, and large formidable hands. His muscular development in the arms, thighs, legs, back and chest was terrific. He had in his hand what seemed to be some form of primitive bow. He did not see me, but stood there, and I watched him for some five or six minutes. He was watching some man or beast far down the hillside. At the end of some five minutes he started off at a run down the hill, and I was impressed with the tremendous speed at which he traveled."[1]

However, there seems to be no evidence that a William Hugh Knight existed outside of the news article.

"HE SAW SNOWMAN", Greenbrier Independent (Lewisburg, WV), 1922-02-17
'''Englishman Corroborates Story Told by Explorers. Probability That There is a Mysterious Race That Has Not Been Reached by Civilization.'''

17 Feb. 1922 -- William Hugh Knight, a member of the British Royal Societies Club, recently recalled to a representative of the London Times an occasion some years ago when he was able to inspect closely a figure which he believes to be that of one of the "Abominable Snowmen" to whom reference has been made by members of the Mt. Everest expedition. He said:

"Shortly before the last Tibetan war I was returning from Tibet with another European, A Tibetan Guide, and our train of about 40 or 50 coolies. We were coming down the track which leads from Gnatong to Sedonchen. We wanted to go to Gantok by the higher track, but Tenzin Wagdi, our guide, said the coolies would not face the leeches, so we had to take the lower track, which roughly follows the river. As we got near Gantok we had to climb the long ascent. My companion had gone on ahead with the coolies. I was about half a mile behind about half a mile below Gantok.

"I stopped to breathe my horse on an open clearing and dismounted, loosened the girths and watched the sun, which was just about setting. While I was musing I heard a slight sound, and, looking round, I saw, some 15 or 20 paces away, a figure which I now suppose must have been one of the hairy men that the Everest expedition talk about and the Tibetans, according to them, call the "Abominable Snowmen."

"Speaking to the best of my recollection, he was a little under six feet high, almost stark naked in that bitter cold &mdash; it was the month of November. He was a kind of pale yellow all over, about the color of a Chinaman, a shock of matted hair on his head, little hair on his face, highly splayed feet, and large formidable hands. His muscular development in the arms, thighs, legs, back and chest was terrific. He had in his hand what seemed to be some form of primitive bow. He did not see me, but stood there, and I watched him for some five or six minutes. He was watching some man or beast far down the hillside. At the end of some five minutes he started off at a run down the hill, and I was impressed with the tremendous speed at which he traveled.

"So far as I can remember, I mentioned the matter in the Gurkha mess that night, and to Claude White when I saw him at the residence next morning, but my recollection is that they took it rather as a matter of course. The incident more or less passed out of my mind until I read about the tracks in the snow written of by members of the Mt. Everest expedition."



"The Wild Man of Thibet", Bridgeport Times (Bridgeport, CN), 1922-02-24
24 Feb. 1922 -- WILLIAM HUGH KNIGHT, a member of the British Royal Societies Club, recently recalled to a representative of the London Times an occasion some years ago when he was able to inspect closely a figure which he believes to be that of one of the "Abominable Snowmen" to whom reference has been made by members of the Mt. Everest expedition. He said:

Shortly before the last Tibetan war I was returning from Tibet with another European, A Tibetan Guide, and our train of about 40 or 50 coolies. We were coming down the track which leads from Gnatong to Sedonchen. We wanted to go to Gantok by the higher track, but Tenzin Wagdi, our guide, said the coolies would not face the leeches, so we had to take the lower track, which roughly follows the river. As we got near Gantok we had to climb the long ascent. My companion had gone on ahead with the coolies. I was about half a mile behind about half a mile below Gantok.

I stopped to breathe my horse on an open clearing and dismounted, loosened the girths and watched the sun, which was just about setting. While I was musing I heard a slight sound, and, looking round, I saw, some 15 or 20 paces away, a figure which I now suppose must have been one of the hairy men that the Everest expedition talk about and the Tibetans, according to them, call the "Abominable Snowmen."

Speaking to the best of my recollection, he was a little under six feet high, almost stark naked in that bitter cold &mdash; it was the month of November. He was a kind of pale yellow all over, about the color of a Chinaman, a shock of matted hair on his head, little hair on his face, highly splayed feet, and large formidable hands. His muscular development in the arms, thighs, legs, back and chest was terrific. He had in his hand what seemed to be some form of primitive bow. He did not see me, but stood there, and I watched him for some five or six minutes. He was watching some man or beast far down the hillside. At the end of some five minutes he started off at a run down the hill, and I was impressed with the tremendous speed at which he traveled.

So far as I can remember, I mentioned the matter in the Gurkha mess that night, and to Claude White when I saw him at the residence next morning, but my recollection is that they took it rather as a matter of course. The incident more or less passed out of my mind until I read about the tracks in the snow written of by members of the Mt. Everest expedition.