For those who have had the pleasure of visiting the highlands of Scotland, as I have, the idea of a legendary sea monster seems as natural as the idea of leprechauns or fairies dwelling amongst the megaliths in the green hills of Glencolumcille on that other Celtic island nearby. Ireland and Scotland have given more than their fair share of heroic myths to the storytelling traditions which enliven and ennoble the otherwise harsh and brutal lives of rural dwellers. Rob Roy may seem romantic on the vast cinema screen, but the reality would have been much different. The story of Michael Collins might make a great film, but you could be sure it would romanticize the brutal and futile attempt to evict the invading oppressors from the east which characterizes Anglo/Irish history until recent times. It is a matter of surival of the race, these stories and myths. Oppressed peoples, more than any other, need their heroes and legends.
But legends usually stop at the border. Some, however, become universal symbols and people flock from all over the world to visit a sacred site or get a glimpse of a wonder of the world. The Loch Ness monster, affectionately known as "Nessie," is one of these. Millions of people have made the pilgrimage to northern central Scotland to search Loch Ness in hopes of a Nessie sighting. More than a few have returned home convinced that they have been privy to a special sighting of a mysterious being. And while it would be exaggerating to claim that there have been nearly as many Nessie sightings as there have been of the Virgin Mary or Santa Claus or alien spacecraft, it would be disingenuous to claim that nobody's ever really seen the beast and leave it at that. Many sightings have been recorded, going back at least as far as St. Columba, the Irish monk who converted most of Scotland to Christianity in the 6th century. Columba apparently converted Nessie, too; for it is said that until he went out on the waters and soothed the beast, she had been a murderess.
The legend of Nessie may well be related to Celtic folklore, but I will leave the exploration of those origins to others. Folklore is not my forte. My focus will be on the modern Nessie, the one allegedly sighted and photographed by Colonel Robert Wilson in 1934: the plesiosaur- like beast with the long neck emerging out of the murky waters. That photo created quite a fuss. Before the photo, Loch Ness was the stuff of legend and myth. The locals knew the ancient history of the sea serpent. But people came to the lake more to relax than to go on expeditions looking for mythical beasts. After the photo, the scientific experts were called in. First, they examined the photo itself. Could be a plesiosaur. Yes, but it could be a tree trunk, too. Or an otter. Later, there would be explorations by submarine with high tech sensing devices. Today, we have a full-blown tourist industry said to have generated about $37 million in 1993, complete with submarine rides (about one hundred bucks an hour in 1994) and a multi-media tourist center.
There have been other photographs, as well. The tabloids will pay good money for a photo of Nessie, and some enterprising souls have camped out for years in hopes of capturing the elusive beast on film. One good photo and they can retire for life! The Smithsonian even has a WWW page on Nessie, where it advocates continued scientific investigation into the matter. According to the Smithsonian,
Even though most scientists believe the likelihood of a monster is small, they keep an open mind as scientists should and wait for concrete proof in the form of skeletal evidence or the actual capture of such a creature.Keep on looking! Of course, this is the same Smithsonian which, in the January 1996 issue of its monthly magazine, ran a highly uncritical article on dowsing. We have come to expect the disingenuous defense of openmindedness from the tabloids as they exploit our love of mystery and wonder; but we thought the Smithsonian would take a higher road and present empirical studies instead of uncritical wishful thinking. It may be the case that the Smithsonian has found that in order to compete and survive it must cater to the tabloid mentality of the general public and elected officials. Let's hope, however, that things don't get so bad in the struggle for dollars that we eventually find institutions such as the Smithsonian selling Bigfoot T-shirts and sponsoring the First Annual All-American Bigfoot Hunt as part of their annual membership drives.We suggest...that those individuals interested in such a phenomenon...join the International Society of Cryptozoology, a scientific organization that critically looks at issues involving unknown creatures of unexpected form and size, and subjects them to technical review.
In addition to the photographs of Nessie, there have been numerous sightings reported in the testimonials of unquestionably reliable witnesses. How could anyone look at all this "evidence" and dismiss Nessie as a figment of people's imagination, as just another case of pareidolia (another Virgin Mary in the tortilla)? Easy. Let's start with the photographs.
In a story not nearly as fascinating or obscure as the Piltdown man episode, but at least on par with the faked fairy photos that gulled Conan Doyle, the most famous photo of Nessie as a relative of the long-extinct plesiosaurs was reported to have been faked. David Martin, a zoologist, and Alastair Boyd, were members of a scientific project to find Nessie. They are credited by the London Sunday Telegraph [March, 12, 1994] as having dug up the story of the faked photo, which was staged using a toy submarine. Christian Spurling, who died in the fall of 1993, was said to have made a deathbed confession of his role in the prank. The fake photo was not taken by Col. Wilson--his name was used to give the photo stature and integrity--but by Spurling's stepbrother, Ian Wetherell. Ian's father, Marmaduke ("Duke") Wetherell, had been hired by the London Daily Mail to find the monster. Wetherell was a film maker who described himself as a "big game hunter." What bigger game could there be than Nessie? Except that the big game was actually a small model of a sea serpent made of plastic wood attached to a 14-inch toy submarine! Actually, the game did get big as the little prank created such a huge fuss that the pranksters decided that the best thing for them to do would be to keep quiet.
Alastair Boyd, mentioned above as one of the researchers who uncovered the photo hoax, claims he made a sighting of Nessie in 1979. His Nessie didn't look like a dinosaur, though. More like a whale, he said. It was at least 20 feet long and he says he saw it roll around in the water. Now it's not likely that there are any 20 foot otters, but there are 20 foot logs. There are also errors in guessing at the size of things seen in the distance for a few seconds under less than ideal conditions. No matter, Boyd is convinced there are creatures in the loch. But this much we already know. Of course there are creatures in the loch. But are they 20 foot long monsters the size of a whale which no one has yet been able to find and clearly see? Since the Loch Ness monster story has been around for more than 1500 years, if there is a monster it is not likely that it is the same monster seen by St. Columba. Or, are we to believe that not only is Nessie very big, she is very old as well, a veritable Methusala among beasts? In short, there must be more than one monster. I'll leave it to the zoologists to calculate how many monsters are necessary to maintain the species over the years. One report I read claimed that a minimum population of ten creatures would be needed to sustain the population. The same report claims that Loch Ness is incapable of sustaining a predator weighing more than about 300 kg (about 660 pounds)[The Naturalist, winter 1993/94, reported in The Daily Telegraph]. Adrian Shine, head of the Loch Ness Project, said the monster could be a Baltic sturgeon, a primitive fish with a snout and spines which can grow up to nine feet long and weigh in at around 450 pounds. This may sound like just another fish story to some, but there is scientific evidence that Nessie is, at best, a big fish in a big lake, or a big wake in a big lake. The Naturalist reported on extensive studies of the lake's ecology which indicate that the lake is capable of supporting no more than 30 metric tons of fish. (The food chain of the lake is driven by bacteria which break down vegetation, rather than algae like most lakes.) Estimating that a group of predators would weigh no more than 10 percent of the total weight of the fish available for them to consume, researchers arrived at the 300 kg (660 lb.) statistic. It strikes me as extremely odd that with all the sophisticated technology, the submarines, and the thousands of voyeurs that after all these years we still don't have a single specimen. We don't have a carcass; we don't even have a bone to examine. With at least ten of these huge monsters swimming around in the lake, you'd think that there would be at least one unambiguous sighting by now. You would think so, that is, unless you want to keep the hoax/myth/legend alive. I can't deny that there are good economic reasons for keeping the Loch Ness monster myth alive. It's good for tourism. And there are all those "scientific" investigations to be paid for with government funds and private donations: full employment for cryptozoologists. Then, of course, there is all that film sold to photographers in search of The Big One. But tourism grew out of the myth, not the other way around. This story would be told with or without multi-media centers and gift shops full of Nessie mementoes.
Besides the photo which Mr. Boyd and others have exposed as a fake, there are many other photos of Nessie to consider. Not all photos of Nessie are fakes. Some are genuine photos of the lake. These photos are always very gray and grainy, taken of murky waters with lots of shadows and outlines. There is no question that in some of these there does appear to be a form which could be taken for a sea serpent. The form could also be taken for a log, a shadow on a wave, a wave itself, driftwood or flotsam. Anyone who has traveled around Loch Ness will not be disappointed in the variety of forms which one will see when looking out upon the waters. The lake is very long, and on the day I was there it was very turbulent, even though the day was a rather pleasant one as far as Scottish summer days go. Obviously, since I was there for only one day, I had not come to Loch Ness to do any serious research into the monster. I'll confess that I didn't even bother to stop in Drumnadrochit to take in the Loch Ness Monster Exhibit, which, according to Fodor's guide book to Scotland, "presents the facts and the fakes." I was there on vacation, with my wife, daughter, future son-in-law, and a dear friend. We were on our way to Orkney, a much more interesting destination than Inverness, I believe. But I could not travel so far and not drive around one of the most famous lakes in the world.
We headed down the B862, which affords intermittent views of the lake from the east side. It was a pleasant drive among moors and conifer spikes, but nothing spectacular in a land of glorious spectacles. The drive northward on the west bank along the A82 takes you right along the lake in many places and past the famous Urquhart castle, a "favorite monster-watching spot" (Fodor's). As far as Scottish castles go, what's left of Urquhart seems hardly worth the visit compared to the ruins at Dunnottar, south of Stonehaven. Dunnottar is worth a pilgrimage. It sets on a rocky cliff high above the North Sea and is as mystical as it gets for an atheist. Well, actually, if the atheist is a golfer, a pilgrimage to the Stonehaven golf course is as mystical as it gets. (Next to playing the Old Course at St. Andrews, of course!) You can see Dunnottar in the southern distance, perched above the sea, as you walk to the 18th green, which is strategically located next to a small cemetery.
Well, even if Urquhart doesn't seem like a very interesting castle ruin, it is on the tourist bus trail and gets more than its share of visitors. I had wanted to stop at Urquhart and take advantage of its excellent location for monster-watching but I couldn't get into the parking lot. I drove north past the castle, looking for a place to turn around, and after many miles finally found one. I drove south, past the castle again, as the parking lot guard waved me on by the castle: the lot was still full. I drove for miles looking for a place to turn around again, finally found one, and made a third pass with the same result. Was it a sign from Nessie? I don't know, but we decided to forget Urquhart and continue northward if we were to make John o' Groats by dark. (Actually, we needn't have hurried since there was still enough light at 11:30 pm to see the sheep lining the road to that northeastern tip of Scotland...another near-mystical experience as we tried to get our first glimpse of the islands!) So we had to do most of our viewing of Loch Ness from the road. And, while we didn't see any monsters that day, I still have a vivid memory of one of Scotland's longest (24 miles) and certainly its deepest lake (750, 800, or 900 ft. in places, depending on which source you pick). I have no doubt that anyone who stared across those murky, wavy, shadowy waters would see many things that could be Nessie. I don't doubt that many, if not most, of the thousands of witnesses who testify to having seen Nessie are honest, decent folk who have interpreted their perceptions according to their wishes. They have come to the lakeside and they have been blessed with a visitation! They are truly special and their lives are now marked forever as unique. Best of all: they have a story to tell for the rest of their lives. In many ways they are like the young lady who declared that the highlight of her life was when she saw music icon Michael Jackson being whisked through a department store: "it was like seeing a ufo," she declared! I'll bet she'll be telling the story of her Michael Jackson sighting for years to come. Who knows to what epic proportions the young lady's tale might grow? But no matter how great her story becomes and no matter how many of her friends will sit glassy-eyed ruminating on the legendary Michael, our traveling buddy around Loch Ness can one-up her any day. For our friend, Kathleen Collins Read, did something that not even Nick Faldo has done: she made an eagle on the 325 yard, par four, 16th hole of the Old Course at St. Andrews, known as Corner of the Dyke. I was witness to the miraculous event from a vantage point in a hellish bunker known as the Principal's Nose. The same Kathie Read was witness to my only hole-in-one, a divine five-iron on the 3rd hole of the Davis Community Golf Course. Now those are the experiences of which legends are made! I may never see a ufo, the Loch Ness monster or Michael Jackson, but I have seen my friend make an eagle at St. Andrews. Kathleen still tells the story of her eagle on the Old Course to anyone who will listen. And there are few golfers who will not listen to a story about the Old Course. (Of course, the brutal reality of Kathleen's final score for the round has remained a complete mystery.)
So, while others may have spent their entire vacations perched at Castle Urquhart, binoculars glued to their eyes, hoping for a glimpse of a mysterious monster, we played the Viking tourist and visually plundered the Scottish countryside from top to bottom. And, we finally made it to Orkney. We boarded a ship at Scrabster that would have frightened any noble Viking war party, and made our way through the mist, past the great seastack known as the Old Man of Hoy and into the port at Stromness a couple of hours later. While others searched in vain for an elusive sea creature to the south, we toured St. Magnus Cathedral (yes, atheists visit cathedrals!), the stone circle known as the Ring of Brodgar, the Stenness Standing Stones, several brochs, an earth house, Maes Howe and several other cairns, and, of course, Skara Brae. Our main point of pilgrimage was the stone age village of Skara Brae, and it did not disappoint me. The day we were there the wind was near gale force and there was a driving rain. One could not have asked for more miserable conditions and yet I remember saying to myself, as I watched my umbrella get ripped to shreds by the wind, that I never felt so invigorated in all my life. Strange isn't it, how we long for a sunny day and mild temperatures. Why? So we can take photographs and have proof of our sightings? I don't think so. Most photographers can figure out a way to take a photo even under the most extreme conditions. Is it peace we seek? I don't know. As storytellers, we should long for the stormy day: there will be more detail, more drama, more heroism in our accounts, if we can include our struggle with Nature in the tale. It was a wondrous day, even though the cold wind blew right through you. The harshness of the day, however, could not have compared with the harshness of the lives of those who lived in those stone dwellings so many centuries ago.
But as satisfying as the day at Skara Brae was, and despite the wonderful story that day produced (which has no place here, I am afraid), the most poignant moment on Orkney for me was the visit to a small chapel built out of scrap materials by Italian prisoners of war in 1943 in Lambholm. The Italian Chapel of the men of Camp 60 is a tribute to what men can do and will do to keep their humanity even as they engage in man's most brutal occupation. The prisoners were brought there to build the Churchill barriers, constructed to keep out of Scapa Flow the most horrid monster of the sea ever conceived by human imagination: the German U-boat, one of which had breached the gap in Holm Sound and sunk the battleship Royal Oak with a loss of over 800 men. The Italians constructed the Barriers and, in their spare time, built a chapel inside two Nissen huts. They used scraps, scrounged and salvaged materials, to construct their masterpiece out of wood, glass, plaster, concrete and metal. They built an altar, a wrought iron sanctuary screen, and painted lancet windows. The painted the interior to give the illusion of gothic vaulting and tiled ceiling and walls. They made pilasters and pillars out of concrete. They ornamented the exterior with Gothic pinnacles. Over the front archway is Signor Pennisi's thorn-crowned head of Christ molded out of red clay. It's weathered now, and quite poignant. Inside there are paintings of angels and saints, including of course, St. Francis of Assisi and St. Catherine of Sienna. Signor Palumbo fashioned candelabra out of scraps of brass and iron. The sanctuary vault is frescoed with the symbols of the four evangelists and the base of the curved wall is painted to resemble carved stone. But the centerpiece of the chapel is the altarpiece painting of the Madonna of the Olives, based on the work of Nicolo Barabina (1832-1891). It was done by the chief artist and resident genius of The Italian Chapel project, Domenico Chiocchetti, and was based on a holy card he carried with him throughout the war. Fortunately for the present visitor, Signor Chiocchetti returned to Lambholm, Orkney, from his village in Modena, Italy, in 1960 to supervise and participate in the restoration of the chapel which had fallen into disarray.
It was very moving to be in that little church, much more moving for me than Chartres or Notre Dame du Paris. I remember driving away from the chapel, looking in the rearview mirror for a last glimpse of the exquisite figure Chiocchetti had constructed out of barbed wire covered with cement. Still in good shape after 50 years, Chiocchetti's St. George slaying the dragon continues to guard the entrance to The Italian Chapel of Lambholm. What better symbol for the contradictions that little chapel embodies? The contradictions of war and peace, beauty and ugliness, the lofty and the beastly embodied in salvaged scraps by an obscure Italian artist. But the symbolism of slaying the dragon is lost on me now, I am afraid; for; today as I reflect back on the experience with the help of the P.O.W. Chapel Preservation Committee's booklet on "Orkney's Italian Chapel", I can't help but see a distant relative of poor Nessie writhing beneath the horse and spear of St. George. For your sake, Nessie, I hope you don't exist. But if you do, I hope no one ever finds you.
reader comments
17 Nov 1996
I have just read your piece on the Loch ness monster in the Skeptic's Dictionary, and although I am a Ness investigator and on the "other side" as it were, I think your work was well-written and logically thought out.
However there is one piece of info you divulge that is a bit off the mark. You refer to the Nessie business as providing full employment to cryptozoologists like Alastair Boyd. I thought you ought to be aware that Mr Boyd does not profit from full employment in this field. I have spent many months this year in his company and can assure you he makes nothing out of cryptozoology. In fact he makes nothing out of anything, simply because he has been the victim for quite a few years of Myoencephalic Emeylitis or M.E. as it is more commonly known.
Alastair is unable to work and it is nothing short of superhuman that he found the strength in his condition to track down Spurling and obtain the story on the surgeon's photo hoax. It would be good of you if you were to alter the offending paragraph in the interests of complete accuracy in your otherwise splendid article.
As a skeptic you surely must believe that accuracy is the best policy.
John Kirk.
further reading
"It's a Fake!" by Lee Moller
Nessie's Home Page For fun and amusement, I hope.
The Smithsonian Nellie Page For the serious cryptozoologist.
Pib Burns' page on cryptozoology
Bauer, Henry H. The Enigma of Loch Ness : Making Sense of a Mystery (Urbana : University of Illinois Press, 1986).
Binns, Ronald. The Loch Ness Mystery Solved (Buffalo, New York: Prometheus, 1985).
Ellis, Richard. Monsters Of The Sea: The History, Natural History, and Mythology of the Oceans' Most Fantastic Creatures (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1994). [A paperback edition from Doubleday is scheduled for 1996 release.]