Loch Ness and others

Loch Ness is not the only lake in the world said to be home to strange, unidentified aquatic animals. Around the globe, similar creatures have been reported—often in lakes located at latitudes surprisingly close to that of Loch Ness itself.

As someone deeply interested in the mystery of unexplained animals, I have followed the Loch Ness story for many years. Because of that, I believe that other similar creatures also exist. Being Autistic, I am aware that my beliefs are shaped by my unique way of processing the world—and I am perfectly okay acknowledging that there are some creatures I believe in, and others I do not. Everyone sees the world differently. Aside from the Loch Ness Monster, unknown lake creatures I strongly believe may be real include:

• The Lake Champlain Monster

• The Bear Lake Monster

• The Flathead Lake Monster

• The Lake Ikeda Monster

• The Lake Storsjön Monster

• The Lake Seljord Monster

• The Howick Falls Monster

It came to me as kind of a revelation, that my belief and interest in these creatures is not just about the supernatural. It also has to do with the fact that many of these lakes are in countries tied to things I am passionate about—places that connect to my personal interests in a deeper way.

I am not writing this to convince anyone that lake monsters exist. My goal is simply to share why I believe in them, and to offer a different perspective: if these beings are real, maybe they are not monsters at all—maybe they are just animals we have not fully understood yet; either a known or still to be recognized species

• Vikram

 

 

Champ, Lake Champlain
Lake Champlain is the largest lake in Vermont, straddling the border with New York and shares surprising similarities with Scotland’s Loch Ness. Both were once part of the Atlantic Ocean and were transformed into freshwater lakes by retreating glaciers—Champlain from the ancient Champlain Sea, and Loch Ness as part of the Great Glen Fault. Lake Champlain is about 8,500–10,200 years old, close in age to Loch Ness, which is around 10,000 years old. Though Champlain is shallower (400 ft vs. Loch Ness’s 975 ft), it sits higher above sea level (95.5 ft compared to 52 ft). Both are freshwater lakes teeming with life—Lake Champlain supports over 80 fish species, while Loch Ness is home to salmon, eels, trout, pike, and more.

But be that as it may, much like Loch Ness, people mostly come here for one reason only, to attempt to glimpse an animal unexplained, one not unlike that in Loch Ness, affectionately referred to as ‘Champ, what is happenstance by both mistranslation as well as truth as that much like Nessie, the fabled monster of Loch Ness, Champ too was thought to have been sighted by a famous person. It is said by many that the area that Lake Champlain lies in was discovered by French explorer and cartographer Samuel De Champlain who at the time was present in North America. Champlain said he saw an aquatic animal which he described as a ’20-foot serpent as thick as a barrel with a horse’s head’. This has been repeatedly questioned because Champlain never wrote any of this in his findings about the area where the lake, he gave his name to lies. Instead, he may have been referring to a garpike which is a relative of the sturgeon that the natives told him about. There is still reason to believe he may have seen an unidentified animal though

 

 

Bear Lake Monster, United States

Bear Lake, straddling the border of Utah and Idaho, is a long, narrow freshwater lake known for its striking turquoise waters and rugged surroundings. While the Bear Lake Monster has not captured as much popular attention as Scotland’s Nessie or Vermont’s Champ, the legend persists among locals and historians alike. The lake itself is situated in a region rich in prehistoric history—Utah is one of the American states where dinosaur fossils and paleontology are central to education and scientific study. This connection strengthens the idea that the Bear Lake Monster might be a prehistoric survivor, with many suggesting that, much like Champ, it could be a basilosaurus, an ancient whale with a long, serpentine body.

Various explanations have been proposed for what the Bear Lake Monster maybe. It could indeed be a basilosaurus, which may have wandered into the lake through underground tunnels or connecting rivers; its elongated, undulating body closely resembles many of the reported descriptions, and fossils indicate that these whales which were also known as zeuglodons could withstand colder waters. Others point to the paddlefish, one of the largest freshwater fishes in North America, which is rarely seen and known to appear at unpredictable times, potentially leading observers to mistake it for a monster. Another possibility is the sturgeon, a massive fish reaching the size of an alligator, whose size and undulating movements could account for some sightings. While some cryptozoologists have occasionally suggested the Bear Lake Monster might be a plesiosaur, this idea is far less emphasized than with other lake monsters and rarely features as a primary candidate.

Reports of strange animals in Bear Lake date back to the 19th century, though documented sightings are fewer than those of Loch Ness or Lake Champlain. Witnesses have described a serpentine, undulating being rising from the water, occasionally glimpsed from a distance or during boating excursions. Legend has intertwined with folklore in colorful ways; for example, the American folk hero Pecos Bill—a feral child raised by coyotes—is said to have confronted and even fought the Bear Lake Monster in some retellings. While certainly mythical, this tale illustrates the imaginative weight of the monster in local culture, bridging early settler storytelling, native lore, and modern sightings.

The modern era has seen fewer confirmed sightings, with the last widely reported encounter occurring over twenty-three years ago. Despite this, belief in the Bear Lake Monster endures, partly because the lake lies in a region rich with prehistoric significance. Just as plesiosaur fossils have been found in Scotland near Loch Ness, the Bear Lake Monster is often thought of as a living relic of prehistory—a creature whose presence evokes the ancient waters and primeval life that once dominated the Earth. The legend of the Bear Lake Monster emerges from a place where the study of dinosaurs is plentiful, and because, much like Champ, the possibility of a surviving basilosaurus or other prehistoric relic continues to capture the imagination, even if it has not been seen in decades.

 

 

 

Flathead Lake Monster, Flathead Lake, United States

Flathead Lake, situated in northwest Montana, is one of the largest natural freshwater lakes in the western United States. Utah, the location of Bear Lake, this region is rich in prehistoric significance, with Montana being famous for its dinosaur fossils and paleontological research. This context makes the idea of a prehistoric survivor plausible, much as other lake monsters have been linked to ancient species.

The most widely cited account of the Flathead Lake Monster dates back to 1889, when Captain James C. Kerr was commanding the steamboat U.S. Grant, which regularly made trips across the lake. Several passengers were on board when a large, whale-like object approached the vessel. Initially assumed to be a floating log or inanimate object, the passengers quickly realized it was a living animal. Startled, one account claims that Captain Kerr—or in some reports, a passenger—drew a rifle and fired at the animal, which immediately dived to safety.

In 1919, another steamboat encounter occurred, this time with the creature heading directly toward the vessel. By the time the captain altered course, 50 passengers on the starboard side had already glimpsed the animal. Local fishermen had long blamed a mysterious force for torn nets and missing catches, though the lake is only 27 miles long and between 8 and 15 miles wide. Despite this modest size, Flathead Lake’s strange resident has never been sighted with the frequency or notoriety of the creatures at Loch Ness or Lake Champlain. Even with some recent pollution, the lake retains some of the cleanest waters in the world.

Over the years, witnesses have offered varied and vivid descriptions. One man reported seeing an animal with six or seven neck segments above the water. A family of six observed a dark-coloured, 15–20 meter long animal that remained on the surface for about a minute. Two tourists claimed their boat was rocked by a creature moving past them, almost like a small Japanese submarine. A resort operator described seeing an animal so large that it left a wake lasting two days, though this may be exaggerated. On land, the Zeigler family once observed unusual splashes over the dock at their home. They reported a horse-headed animal scratching itself against rubber pilings. Concerned for his family, Mr. Zeigler ran inside to fetch a rifle, but by the time he returned, the animal had disappeared.

Various explanations have been proposed for the Flathead Lake Monster. Many witnesses describe a plesiosaur-like animal, echoing the long-necked, serpentine qualities associated with other lake monsters. However, not all sightings match this form, resulting in some speculating it could be a prehistoric crocodilian or another unknown aquatic animal. Some of the sightings describe it sturgeon-like although no sturgeon have been caught in the lake. While most observers—including religious locals—have not seriously advocated for otters or beavers as candidates, cryptozoologist Gary Mangiacopra suggested that the creature could be a wayward elephant seal, though this is far from universally accepted.

One of the strangest modern accounts was by a researcher who reported seeing the lake monster in 1985 and again two years later, a rare occurrence given that most people only see the animal once, if at all, in a lifetime. On average, one or two sightings occur each year. However, 1993 proved extraordinary: that year alone saw roughly thirteen separate reports. On May 24, two animals were reportedly seen together in Big Arm Bay—one considerably larger than the other—leading observers to speculate they were either a mother and child or a male and female pair. On July 15, 1993, two sightings occurred 25 minutes apart and 15 miles from each other, and on July 17, two more sightings were reported in the same area, half a day apart. Moreover, on July 13, 1993, off Woods Bay, a bank officer and a district sales manager from Seattle captured a few seconds of video footage of the monster. The video shows a large, dark shape, about 12 feet long, just below the surface. One witness noted seeing the creature before filming began, describing it as having a sturgeon-like head and an eel-like body. While the lake has hosted more sightings over the decades, 1993 remains a landmark year in Flathead Lake Monster lore.

Flathead Lake, like Champ and the Bear Lake Monster, provides a setting where prehistoric echoes and modern observation meet. Sightings of the Flathead Lake Monster again occur in a region abundant in dinosaur and fossil history, and because the animal—while rarely seen—could be a living relic from prehistory, a creature whose presence connects the lake to an ancient past and continues to fuel the enduring human fascination with hidden aquatic life.

 

 

Lake Ikeda Monster, Japan

Lake Ikeda lies within the dormant volcanic Ikeda Caldera in Kyushu, Japan, from which it takes its name. Like other regions with lake monster legends, Japan has a long-standing fascination with mysterious creatures, both domestic and abroad. Belief in a local lake monster may be partially inspired by this cultural interest: to have a monster of their own, akin to Scotland’s Nessie, adds a sense of national pride and excitement to the story.

Numerous sightings of a serpentine animal named Issie have been reported in Lake Ikeda. The first reported encounter occurred in 1961, but it was not until 1978 that sightings surged dramatically, drawing widespread attention. The name “Issie” is a playful nod to Nessie, reflecting the global awareness of lake monsters and Japan’s desire to have a creature uniquely its own. The legend blends folklore and modern observations, forming a rich narrative that has become part of the lake’s identity and a draw for tourism.

The folkloric origins of Issie are purely mythological. According to one story, a white mare who lived with her foal by Lake Ikeda was transformed into a monstrous, saurian being after her foal was kidnapped by a samurai and in her despair while diving into the lake to search for her offspring underwent this transformation. She is said to periodically surface, still searching for her lost child—a narrative that enriches local culture but is not considered a historical event.

Modern interpretations suggest that sightings may actually involve the lake’s giant mottled eels. These eels can grow up to two meters long, are designated a natural monument, and, like eels throughout Japan, are considered a local delicacy. Some researchers and local officials propose that multiple eels swimming together—or particularly large individuals—could explain many of the reported sightings, blending natural explanation with enduring mystery.

Significant sightings and events have been recorded over the years. In 1978, over twenty people reported seeing two black, hump-like objects moving rapidly across the lake’s surface. Later that year, on December 16, Toshiaki Matsuhara, who had been searching for the creature, photographed a strange object in the water. His photograph was officially recognized by the local tourism board, earning him a reward of 100,000 yen. In 1979, a survey by TV Tokyo using a fish finder detected two large objects, over three meters long, at a depth of ten meters.

The legend continued into the 1990s and 2000s. In 1990, Kazuo Kono and his mother captured a black, undulating shape on video. In 1991, several people filmed a black, hump-like object, while a Fuji Television crew recorded what appeared to be the creature. Additional 8mm footage was captured in 1993, and in 2007, four bumps were reported floating on the lake’s surface.

Since the 1978 surge, Issie has become a cultural and tourist icon. Local officials have embraced the story to promote tourism: a statue of Issie stands by Lake Ikeda, and souvenir shops sell themed merchandise. Even though confirmed sightings are rare in recent years, the legend remains an integral part of the area’s identity, connecting folklore, community pride, and the ongoing allure of the unexplained.

Belief in Issie comes from the lake sitting within a caldera steeped in natural mystery, and because Japanese fascination with lake monsters worldwide makes the existence of a local, enigmatic animal entirely plausible. While some sightings may be explained by giant eels—both a natural wonder and a local delicacy—the consistency and persistence of reports suggest the presence of something remarkable in Lake Ikeda, a living embodiment of the country’s engagement with its own cryptic waters.

 

 

Lake Storsjon Monster, Sweden

Sweden is the kind of place in the world where weather is quite reminiscent of the Ice Age depending on location and circumstances. It is not necessary that a reptile from the time of the dinosaurs could have survived here, let alone the zeuglodon being a candidate. However, many prehistoric animals linked to modern seals and sea lions may also serve as examples for what people have been seeing in the waters of Lake Storsjön. Reports of this so-called Storsjöodjuret, or “Great Lake Monster,” have a deep history in Scandinavian folklore.

The very first recorded sighting of the animal was in 1635—the same year that Samuel de Champlain, the namesake of Lake Champlain, died of natural causes. By irony, the monster of Lake Champlain, Champ, later became so well regarded that laws were once passed making it illegal to attempt to harm or kill the creature. In Sweden, too, the legend has a venerable past, stretching back as far as the Viking Age. Some scholars have speculated that tales of the serpent-like animal may have inspired the serpent-headed carvings that decorated Viking longships, blending myth, fear, and reverence.

Over time, the creature has been reported in many shapes and forms. Danish zoologist Lars Thomas once theorised that sightings describing bat-like wings on the monster’s head could actually have been male moose, their antlers mistaken for something more exotic. This was ridiculed by local Gun Brid Widmark, who captured footage of the animal from a ferry. She does not dismiss its presence, and her impression was that the being appeared friendly: while she filmed it, the animal showed no interest in colliding with the vessel but continued calmly on its way.

Theories about the monster’s identity are varied. British marine life curator Oliver Crimmen has proposed that some reports may be explained by eels. These creatures are known for remarkable survival tactics, enabling them to travel from the sea into inland lakes, keeping their skin moist with mucus to breathe through it, and even crawling over wet ground when necessary. Whether eels could adapt to the extreme cold of Lake Storsjön is debated, since the waters here are considered colder than those of Loch Ness. Yet, if eels can adapt to Loch Ness, then it is not impossible that they might do the same in Storsjön.

Local research continues to this day. Swedish museum curator Ooola Oscarson has devoted years to investigating the legend, collecting testimonies from eyewitnesses. Many describe the monster’s head as resembling that of a cat or a dog, which adds further texture to the folklore surrounding this enigmatic presence.

 

 

 

Selma, Lake Seljord, Norway

Norway, a land steeped in folklore and legend, is no stranger to tales of strange beings dwelling in its waters. From the vast coastline to its countless lakes and rivers, stories of unexplained aquatic animals have long stirred the imagination. Among the most famous of these is the monster said to inhabit Lake Seljordsvatnet in Telemark, known as Seljordsormen, or simply “the Serpent of Seljord.” What makes this case particularly compelling is not necessarily that it echoes global lake monster traditions, but that it emerges from a culture already rich with stories of mysterious beings in any body of water, large or small. In this way, Seljordsormen does more than terrify—it sparks the same impulse to solve a mystery as other famous legends, from Loch Ness to Champ to Storsjöodjuret.

Descriptions of Seljordsormen often speak of a long, serpent-like form, sometimes rising above the lake’s surface, at other times gliding just beneath the waves. In certain accounts, humps have been spotted undulating across the water, leading many to picture an aquatic snake of extraordinary size. Unlike other lake monster traditions that lean heavily toward prehistoric survivors such as plesiosaurs or zeuglodons, theories about Seljordsormen more often draw from animals that could reasonably adapt to the Norwegian landscape and its deep, cold waters. Large fish species, particularly giant eels or unusually massive pike, are among the most common candidates. Both are well suited to cold freshwater environments and can move in ways that give the impression of a serpentine body undulating at the surface.

The eel theory is especially favoured by some researchers, as these animals are known for their ability to migrate between sea and freshwater, often living for decades unseen at the bottoms of lakes. A particularly large specimen, or even a group swimming in formation, could account for many sightings. Others have speculated about seals or otters, which, when seen from a distance, might appear serpentine as they dive and resurface in succession. These explanations may not carry the same dramatic allure as a “living fossil,” but they suit the environment of Lake Seljordsvatnet far more logically.

Still, the legend endures because the mystery is more than just zoological. It lies also in the atmosphere of Seljord itself—its misty waters, its long oral traditions, and the human desire to interpret the unknown. Much as the Norwegians of old peopled their landscapes with trolls, sea serpents, and beings from the deep, so too does Seljordsormen thrive today in the imagination. For some, it is a cryptid waiting to be explained by science; for others, it is a cultural story that connects present-day Norway with its mythic past.

In this sense, the Seljordsvatnet Monster serves as a reminder of how environments and legends entwine. The lake may not necessarily harbour a prehistoric survivor, but its mystery persists because people continue to wonder—and to look.

 

 

Inkanyamba, South Africa

Southern Africa may not be the first place one thinks of when it comes to lake monsters, yet in the jewel of the region—South Africa—there exists one of the most dramatic and otherworldly aquatic legends. Howick Falls, a spectacular 95-metre cascade in KwaZulu-Natal province is among the most photographed waterfalls in the country. Despite its beauty, the falls carry an eerie reputation, having long been a place where the despairing and depressed have leapt to their end. To the Zulu people, however, the waters hold an older, far deeper mystery: the dwelling place of a serpent-like being unlike any other. A strange aquatic animal known to the locals as Inkanyamba is said to inhabit this place.

Much like the Native Americans’ spiritual relationship with Champ in Lake Champlain, the Zulus maintain a complex connection with the Inkanyamba. Believed to wield both destructive and beneficial powers, the animal is blamed for misfortunes ranging from violent storms to the loss of livestock and even human lives although no proof is yeilded as far as the latter is concernet. Out of respect, a ritual sacrifice of a white goat is sometimes offered to the waters, echoing how Native Americans would sacrifice chickens or dogs if Champ drew too near to their boats. The Inkanyamba is not merely a monster of modern storytelling but a being woven into Zulu cosmology and belief, a creature embodying the peril and awe of the natural world.

Eyewitness accounts give the story a vividness that refuses to fade. In the early 1960s, wildlife warden Buthelezi described seeing a horse-headed animal resting on a sandbank of the Umgeni River, the very river into which the falls plunge. Caretaker Johannes Hlongwane claimed two encounters—one in 1974 and another in 1981—both in the misty conditions under which the animal is most often said to appear. But it was in 1995 that the legend broke wider. Local restaurant owner Bob Teeny and his friend Richard, standing at the falls, reported seeing a serpentine animal rise swan-like from the water. Terrified, they fled, though not before Teeny snapped a photograph, which he later displayed in his office. The picture, however, has come under immense scrutiny over the years and is now leaning toward being proven a hoax, casting doubt on its authenticity.

Other witnesses lend further detail. Wildlife warden Brian Fowlie saw the animal in the evening and was so struck that he sculpted a miniature of the creature he encountered. A Zulu man named Two-Boy Mbhense, who ignored his parents’ warnings and ventured near the base of the falls, described a snake-necked animal with the head of a tortoise and the skin of a crocodile. The Zulu understanding of Inkanyamba is reinforced in art as well: in the nearby Drakensberg Mountain ranges, rock paintings depict serpent-like beings. Archaeologist Frans Prins believes that the modern belief is not a new invention but a continuation of ancient traditions reaching back to those early times.

To this day, the falls are approached with deep caution. Only sangomas—experienced witch doctors—are considered capable of safely visiting the pool at the base. For ordinary people, it is said that venturing too close risks summoning the serpent’s wrath.

When it comes to zoological speculation, the eel stands out as the most logical candidate. Author Sian Hall has advocated for an eel explanation, noting that both the giant mottled eel and the longfin eel could provide a plausible basis for the sightings. These animals are capable of remarkable growth and surprising behaviour, though even they may not fully account for the horse-like or tortoise-like heads so often described. What makes belief in the Inkanyamba so enduring is less the possibility of one identifiable species and more the larger context: Africa itself, a continent where fascination with the natural world thrives and where the ancient past is never far removed. If anywhere could still shelter a remnant from prehistoric times, the argument goes, why not here?

Thus, the Inkanyamba remains both doom and benefactor, a being that terrifies, demands respect, and inspires awe in equal measure. In the mist of Howick Falls, the legend endures, as powerful as the cascade itself.