by John Holman
When I first met the monster, I was inspecting rocks on the shore, in sub-Arctic hinterland of Precambrian Shield. Four billion years old, our third rock from the sun has known its giants, myths, legends and best of all, tall tales.
The problem up here is, sometimes the tall tales are true. Earlier that evening, I had remarked as I looked into the depths of the lake, “Look, there's something there,” pointing at the lake. It was a massive object and seemed to be faintly glowing deep purple and reddish under the water. Though it was evening with a clear sky above us twinkling with stars, we had witnessed the sun dropping off into the horizon of another day and we still had a glimmer of a pink and red showing through the sawtooth treeline. The party people were around the bonfire – slashed with orange and yellow light – casting shadows into the creeping night. Food was on, cool comestibles and fulsome red wines were being consumed and chit-chat interspersed with sexy stories and artsy discussions of movies. We had been ferried to this rock island via boat and that was the only way on or off.
After a couple of discussions I had wandered down to the shore, as the bonfire was up on the peak of the island. I was nursing a whiskey – which was unusual for me, as my brother had brought a rye – and was watching the soft lapping waves on the layered rock. It happened so quick I did not know what happened. One moment I was on the shore, inspecting the lichen-covered rock rising out of the lake. Then, I was instantly and painfully, pulled into the cool water. My left knee was suddenly wrenched and my arms flew up to grab on to the flat rocky shore as the island dropped straight off into the depths. Something had pulled me in!
What it was I do not know, but I can attest that it was incredibly powerful, as I was instantly pulled from the shore into the water and then it released me. “Are you okay?” my brother and a couple of other guys queried. “Yes,” I replied nonchalantly. It was not mentioned again, but the reality was, some tentacled fresh water lake monster had pulled me in. The next day, my brother came by the house, brought me out to lunch and bought me a pressure bandage for the knee, which ached with a pulsing, dull throb. Evidence of the strength of the creature I encountered. Nary a word was spoken in regard to the beast. Although, I did say, “I wonder why it did not pull me in?” Meaning, why had it let me live? Perhaps it was playful?
About a month later, when autumn had arrived in Yellowknife and the first frosty snow had scattered its beauty about the town, there was a party at my unit. My roommates had a few mates over for brews, chatting up the women, in hilarious and friendly social discourse. A furry-faced fellow, a kind of flannel-wearing precursor to today's faux logger hipster, approached me and what he said in a jovial and engaging manner shocked me, “Hey, you're that guy that Mother Nature pulled into the lake!?” “Um, yeah,” I replied, not knowing what to say, having more or less forgotten the incident. Then the guy totally veered off into party talk.
Having encountered a mega-intellect of the environment, which was during a previous manic phase of behavioural and emotional instability in my life, I had already interacted with Mother Nature in an internal dialogue. But, I will say – it was like I was chatting in the same room with her. It would be like the kid with an imaginary friend, but in my case it was a real, independent entity. However, I had no idea that she could manifest as an actual beast. So, when the guy brought up the monster encounter, I was given pause for thought, because he mentioned it in a conversational manner. For these people, monsters were just an every day occurrence, not a surprising reveal at all, but a part of every day existence and that was why I was astonished.
So, yes, Scarlett, there are monsters out there, for real.
I already knew mythical creatures can exist and that they are within a veil of secrecy that borders on the sacred, or is a taboo subject for conversation. Why? Because, when I first arrived as a child in Fort Simpson during summer, the yarrow were in full flower, grasshoppers covered the sidewalks, bees buzzed about everywhere, song birds rose up in fluttering gangs and the dust rose from the dirt roads. I stepped out of the trailer, across the threshold and on that afternoon, crossed into a privileged world of the cryptid, rumour, myth and tall tales, for I came across a Sasquatch.
I ran into the field of grass that was beside the air strip on the island, crossed the runway, then walked across the clearing to a fire road set back to where the land had been historically cleared for crops. Stepping into the shade of the trees beside the road, I could see the dark soil that was underneath and then in front of me, about 50 feet away a tall, mostly black, furry figure crossed the road ahead of me. It was a Sasquatch. I was as a child then and being naturally curious about everything, followed the beast. It stepped into the shrubbery and trees, so I entered the trail it had started upon. The trail led to a crashed aircraft that had been salvaged – a Simpson Air Islander. So, I had a great introduction to the Dehcho bush, but the beast was nowhere to be seen.
In hindsight, I guess it must have hidden off somewhere to observe me, likely wondering what a little kid was doing following it. Or, it actually did not care and had continued on to its lair. I just took it for granted afterward, that mysterious beings and mythic beasts can indeed exist. In fact, this altered my outlook on formal religion, which did not give me meaning with its repetitive ritual and close-minded strictness, because I knew that this alien religion had no meaning in day-to-day reality. That is, I already had proof of the rarefied air of the paranormal, for I had seen the animal myself. Further, I knew in my heart that nature had her monsters, so I really did not engage religion so much as tolerate it, as I had already been revealed the truth: Here be monsters.
So, it was this educated attitude I had carried since meeting the Sasquatch – internalizing the so-called bizarre and mysterious nature of the Earth. I guess, between the dots of that encounter, to the convergence with the lake monster, I had grown and my attitude on cryptids had not changed, but expanded.
Enjoy your Halloween, kids of all ages.