Discover The Secrets Of Scottish History, Mythology And Folklore
Strange Tales of Scotland (Jack's Strange Tales Book 1) by Jack Strange
Book excerpt
Of all the monster legends in the western world, that of Loch Ness is probably the best known. This stretch of dark water in the north of Scotland attracts thousands of tourists, year after year, there have been dozens of books written, a few films made, tens of thousands of photographs taken and about as many newspaper articles either deriding or analysing the phenomena of the loch. There are professional ‘monster hunters’ and people equally desperate to prove the whole thing is a hoax: yet despite all the publicity and the hype nobody can yet finally prove the existence or otherwise of this so called monster.
The first recorded sighting of a strange creature in this area was in the sixth century AD when Saint Columba came east from Iona to spread the Word of Christianity to the pagan Brude, King of the Picts near Inverness. Adomnan, Columba’s biographer, wrote of the supernatural conflict between Columba and Broichan, who was Brude’s personal druid as well as his foster father. What may have impressed even the druid was an encounter outside the dun of the king. A large creature arose from the River Ness and was ready to close its huge jaws on the head of an innocent bystander when Columbus raised his hand and shouted. Columba’s voice, or the Word of God, was enough to scare the creature into a hastily withdrawal.
Broichan may have been put out by this blatant display of Christian power in his own back yard, so he predicted that a storm would batter the saint on his return to his west. The prediction was proved correct, but as Columba lived on a Hebridean island he was used to foul weather and returned home safely. Anyway it was a pretty safe bet to predict stormy weather in western Scotland: it would have been more impressive had Broichan said there would be a lasting spell of fair weather.
That was not only the first known mention of a monster in the region of Loch Ness; it was also the first mention of magic there: both seen intertwined in the legend of Nessie, the familiar name for the Loch Ness Monster. The Gaelic speaking locals called her An Niseag – the Scots pronunciation would be neeshack. Yet there is a silent message that may hint at ancient knowledge. At Balmacaan, not far from the loch, there is a stone with carvings that long predate the memory of man. These carvings show some strange beast that might be a snake, or something very much larger. It may be Nessie, or it may not. Like so much here, there is more mystery than hard fact.
Although the legend of Nessie is old, sightings seem to have been remarkably infrequent. There was apparently mention of it in the sixteenth century, which was also a time of great religious upheavals and of witch trials so people were receptive to strange ideas. In the following century Blaeu’s Atlas, published in 1653 does not mention a monster but records: ‘waves without wind, fish without fin and a floating island’ all of which are unusual at least. It would appear that there was something different about the loch, but nothing spectacular: yet.
So the monster, if monster she is, was remarkably quiet but there were local tales about another creature, a water horse that waited at the side of the loch for the unwary to jump on its back, whereupon it would gallop into the water and kill the unfortunate rider. As with most of these tales, there was never anything specific, only rumours and legends, dark mutterings as winter closed in on the surrounding hills and warnings of danger by the deep water.
In the early nineteenth century the loch was disturbed as engineers decided to create the Caledonian Canal to facilitate passage between the East and West coast of Scotland. Perhaps the sound of more vessels with steam paddle ships joining the ghosting vessels of sail wakened the creature, as she raised her unwelcome head on more than one occasion that century. Or perhaps it was not the monster but the water horse that was seen dimly through the haze of half-belief and fear.
There was also the occasional accident as men fell overboard from boats, such as the shepherd Duncan MacLaren who drowned in February 1860, and Edward Murphy, a drummer in the Cameron Highlanders who sailed a small boat in the loch in July 1885. It capsized in calm water without cause or explanation. Some thought that the loch would demand a death and spoke of the old days when animals and perhaps children were sacrificed to the spirit of the water or to long-forgotten gods banished by the Cross of Columba.
Others were luckier: one near escape occurred on the 31st March 1829 when a funeral party were travelling from Inverness to the old church at Boleskine. One chaise was passing the Black Rock at Inverfarigaig when, for no accountable reason, the driver of a post-chaise decided to leave his post, the coach overturned and slid toward the loch. It only halted when it ran against some birch trees. In exactly the same area in June 1831 the congregation of Boleskeine church were alarmed by a sudden change in the weather and hurriedly ran outside, to be met by what they termed a ‘waterspout’ that carried away a number of barns and immersed them waist deep in water. Boleskeine was like that: strange things happened there.
There was an occasional shipwreck, such as Commodore of Greenock with a cargo of oatmeal which capsized in a sudden squall in January 1853. The master, Captain Colquhoun, and crew abandoned and the vessel was later discovered afloat but drifting close to rocks at Inverfarigaig, not far from Boleskeine. Colquhoun succeeded in salvaging his ship.
Strange things continued to happen: each one insignificant in itself but when taken together the sum of the parts was more than equal to the mysterious whole. In December 1856 the Inverness Courier reported that there was a very ‘voracious pike’ that ate thirteen ducks at the west end of the loch in a single day and a number of turkeys shortly after. In August 1863 the local people were astonished when the salmon in the loch suddenly decided to race up river at the Ness Salmon fisheries. Either they knew that a storm was coming, or something chased them. And all the time the normal life of the loch side communities continued, farming, fishing, hunting, living, loving and dying.
In January 1865 the body of a small boy was found washed up on the beach at Bona Ferry. The baby was tied up in an apron, with a heavy stone to weigh him down so he would sink. As rumours spread about their character, all the local unmarried women met in the Free Church at Lochend, where a minister guaranteed that they were ‘beyond reproach.’ A Doctor Campbell travelled from Inverness and medically examined the breasts of the local women, then stated that none had recently given birth, so a reward of £5 was offered for any information that might lead to the mother being discovered. The case, and the treatment of the local women, caused a stir far beyond Scotland as people argued that it was immoral for women to have to so publicly prove their chastity. Beyond the public outcry, the death of the child was quietly forgotten.
So Loch Ness had its share of drownings, a case of infanticide and some creature that ate water-fowl, but there was very little public mention of a monster. That does not mean that the locals did not have their own tales and their own local knowledge. These Gaelic speaking Highlanders would not divulge too much to visitors, so what they knew normally died with them. However it seems that some snippets seeped out, so that it is known that the people who lived along the banks of Loch Ness spoke about the water-horse, which would take any unwary rider on a death dive beneath the dark waters of the loch.
Few more precise stories were heard. However there was Alexander Macdonald, who in 1802 mentioned that he had seen a mysterious beast like a salamander. Naturally he was the subject of ridicule long after, which could have hidden nervousness, or dissuaded others from admitting that they, too, had seen something strange. If other of the locals had seen anything out of the ordinary, they kept it within their own circle: what happened by the Ness stayed by the Ness.
The outside world did not know about the creature in the loch. There was silence until the 1930s, and then came a sudden surge of sightings and stories. Perhaps it was because of road building operations on the north of the loch, or perhaps there was another, more sinister reason, but Nessie became visible. On the 22nd July 1933 Mr and Mrs George Spicer were driving past the loch when something crossed the road in front of their car. They reported it as a ‘most extraordinary form of animal, about . . . twenty five feet long, with a long neck. At that time there had been no media publicity about any sort of monster and no reason for a visitor to announce the observation of a strange creature.
The next known sighting came the following year when Arthur Grant was riding his motor bike and nearly collided with a very similar beast as he passed the north-east shore of the loch. Then there was Margaret Munro, who that same year saw a creature with a long neck, small head and skin like an elephant.
Now that public interest was aroused, the deception began. The best known was a short film clip in 1934. This is probably the most famous image of the monster and shows a small head on a long neck apparently thrusting from the dark waters of the loch. It was also a hoax. The Daily Mail had hired a big game hunter named Marmaduke Wetherall to hunt down Nessie, and had mocked his failure. In revenge Wetherall created a false image and had it filmed. He could not have reckoned on the almost immediate world-wide interest.
Around the same time a circus man named Bertram Mills prepared a cage in which to hold Nessie, with a bribe of £20,000 for the person who caught her, until the police defended her by saying it was illegal to shoot or trap the creature. The chief constable may have prevented a horde of trigger-happy monster-hunters from all across the world blasting at all and sundry around the loch.
There have been other films and a number of photographs, few of which are clear enough to depict anything reliable. For example there was a South African visitor in 1938 who reputedly filmed Nessie for a full three minutes, but only a single still image has been released. There was the 1960 film made by Tim Dinsdale: some people thought it showed a creature with humps and fins: others said it was only a boat. In 2007 came a film of what was described as a ‘jet black thing, about 45 feet long.’ The film maker, however, has also claimed that fairies are real. Perhaps they are.
But Nessie, under whatever name, is not the only disturbing thing about Loch Ness. At the beginning of the twentieth century, just before the modern wave of monster stories began, a man who was dubbed the ‘most wicked’ in the world took up residence on the shores of the loch. Aleister Crowley was born in Leamington Spa into the Plymouth Brethren, a strict branch of Christianity. In common with many middle class boys, he was sent to a boarding school, where he was bullied by masters and tortured by the pupils who delighted in punching him in his kidneys as soon as they learned he had a kidney disorder: again that was not an uncommon experience for those who did not fit in such places. Crowley became a rebel against his strictly Christian mother, his repressive uncle and his tormenting school.
As an adult he travelled extensively and experimented with various spiritual ideas, becoming more and more immersed in magic and the occult. The press learned about him and called him ‘the most evil man in Britain.’ There were rumours of Satanism. One book Crowley owned was a mediaeval volume named Book of the Sacred Magic of Abraham the Jew which claimed that a Guardian Angel was appointed to every human when they were born. There was a ceremony, the Abramelin Operation that would enable anybody to tap into the magical knowledge of his or her guardian angel. However the ceremony was long and complex and would work only in certain locations. One such place was Boleskine House, by the shores of Loch Ness, which, according to Crowley’s own words was:
A house where proper precautions against disturbance can be taken; this being arranged, there is really nothing to do but to aspire with increasing fervor and concentration, for six months, towards the obtaining of the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel . . . There should be a door opening to the north from the room of which you make your oratory. Outside this door, you construct a terrace covered with fine river sand. This ends in a "lodge" where the spirits may congregate.
Boleskine house was a long white eighteenth century mansion. It had originally been named Boleskine Lodge and was allegedly built to anger the local landlord, Simon Fraser: he had supported the Hanoverians during the 1745 Rising that saw so many Highlanders murdered for their support of the rival Jacobite dynasty. For this act of near-treason he was not the most popular person on the loch side.
“I highly recommend this fascinating collection of stories that ring true to
any student of Scottish history”
“Being a Scot, I’ve naturally heard a few of these tales, but this book goes into greater detail without overpowering the basic story. Excellent reading”
“The tales capture the imagination, and you want to keep reading until you have investigated every legendary story”
Book Details
AUTHOR NAME: Jack Strange
BOOK TITLE: Strange Tales of Scotland (Jack's Strange Tales Book 1)
GENRE: Nonfiction
SUBGENRE: Scottish History / Folklore & Mythology
PAGE COUNT: 158
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