The Loch Ness Monster

In the Scottish Highlands lies a valley, the result of tectonic forces that carved a laceration in the very flesh of the Earth. In many places, it is filled with water, and in one location, just south of Inverness, lies the largest loch—by volume—in all of Great Britain. But Loch Ness, is, of course, world famous for a much different reason.
Tales of a giant monster in that lake have reached nearly every corner of the globe, and inspired countless media. Though few take the reports seriously, for many, the sightings of a terrifying creature that stalks the unfathomably deep waters of Loch Ness are equal parts fascinating and disconcerting.
Of the many creatures I have studied in my travels, almost none have seemed so implausible as an ancient species of marine reptile that somehow found itself in a large lake—much less a population.
Even now, I cannot claim to have found what many have in mind when they picture the “Loch ness monster.”
But what my team and I did uncover in that picturesque lake is a mystery as deep as its murky waters. The science, however, can not be refuted.
Indeed, the so-called “nessie” may be a fantasy—but there is a monster in Loch Ness.

The Legend

In the spring of 1933, a well-respected couple were driving a motorcar along the newly-improved A82 highway, which wound near the north shore of the Loch. The weather was clear, and the drive had been pleasant, with the waters of the loch rolling gently in the slight breeze.
Suddenly, less than a mile from shore, the calm waters erupted in a tremendous upheaval, immediately catching both of their eyes.
Then, according to their later report, a monstrous creature “disported itself, rolling and plunging for fully a minute, its body resembling that of a whale, and the water cascading and churning like a simmering cauldron.”
Shortly after, the creature disappeared in what was described as “a boiling mass of foam.” They “realised that here was no ordinary denizen of the depths, because, apart from its enormous size, the beast, in taking the final plunge, sent out waves that were big enough to have been caused by a passing steamer."
Though the legends of a monstrous beast in the waters of the Scottish Highlands had cropped up occasionally for hundreds of years, few descriptions were as vivid as this. In fact, this was not the only sighting that the year would bring—indeed, it was only the first of many.
The very next year, in 1934, a doctor visiting from London caught the first clear photographic evidence of the beast, which by then had come to be known as the Loch Ness Monster. According to his account, the doctor had been admiring the loch when, in a less dramatic fashion than the aforementioned sighting, the head and neck of a large creature simply broke the water’s surface.
Startled, the doctor grabbed his camera and managed to take four photos, one of which would become the world’s clearest photo of the creature for decades to come.
I have many doubts as to the validity of this photograph, but nonetheless, whereas the true appearance of the monster of loch ness had been largely left to the wondering imagination, it was this event that catapulted the idea of a plesiosaur-like creature into public awareness.
In the years since, many more alleged sightings have occurred, and Loch Ness became a tourist destination—each visitor hoping for their own glimpse of the supposed monster. Entire museums dedicated to “Nessie” were established, and the concept of a sauropterygian reptile stalking the waters of the loch became monster’s prevailing depiction.

Investigation

The directive came to my desk in the usual manner. Though I have learned to suppress my skeptical side, I thought it very unlikely that we would find anything like what the popular sightings described. Perhaps a large carp or a population of seals. But even with my skepticism came an unexpected uneasiness—in a way, this would be my team and I’s highest-profile investigation to date.
We were dispatched to Inverness within the week. From there, travel to Loch Ness was only a short ride by car.
The initial investigation began with a tour of the highlands, during which time we familiarized ourselves with the land’s rugged topology, as well, of course, as the lake itself.
We were all struck by the Loch’s beauty, as well as its sheer size—at roughly 22 miles in length, a mile wide in many areas, and nearly 800 feet at maximum depth, it is a sight to behold.
The entire region, while serene and atmospheric today, belies its history, its basin having been sculpted into the Earth by immense geological forces—the latest of which were glacial movements within the last 10,000 years.
In short, the Loch’s millennia of history is etched into its very landscape, and the echoes of its past are as heavy as the fog that rolls overs its surface.
Interviews with the locals began shortly after. However, in speaking with many people, a palpable tension arose as the conversations progressed. Though my team and I give our best effort to appear approachable and trustworthy, it is my belief that given the rise in tourism over the past few decades, people in this area have been preconditioned to be wary of outsiders.
In most cases, when the conversation turned to what mysteries the Loch might hold, expressions visibly changed—as though a cloud had passed over them, though I could not say whether from distrust or… fear.
Suffice it to say that the interview phase proved of little value, though it did set us on edge. And so it was that we embarked upon the next phase—direct observation.
In the interest of time, I will simply say that my team and I spent weeks on the water, in conditions ranging from clear and sunny to medium-strength storms, to walls of seemingly impenetrable fog, and using the latest in sonar and depth imaging technology… all of it without so much as a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary.
I was beginning to think this entire investigation a futile effort. It was then that my team suggested expanding our search to the land.
I thought this direction to be equally unlikely, but had no reason to discourage this line of thought. In truth, I had been so focused on obtaining evidence from the water that I had barely considered… other options.
Over the next few days, we began a land-based search, combing the 46 miles of shoreline and adjacent forests for any trace of unusual activity. Much to my surprise… we found it.
It was a cold night in January, 1934, and the calm darkness over the north-eastern end of the Loch was broken only by a single, fast-moving headlight. Veterinary student Arthur Grant was driving a motorcycle at a high-speed when he very nearly collided with…something… crossing the narrow stretch of road. Startled, Grant dismounted and attempted a closer look. As he approached, the moonlight revealed what he would later describe as follows: “I had a splendid view of the animal. It was a lovely moonlight night, I was able to observe it was from 15-20ft long, had a small head on a long neck, and large oval eyes. . . I have a certain knowledge of natural history, and I can definitely say I have never seen anything like this strange animal.” Then, suddenly, the creature turned to the shore and in “two great bounds,” had disappeared into the water.
This is not the only land-based sighting of the so-called monster, sometimes being described at lengths approaching 25 feet. In one account made by George Spicer a year before, the creature was even glimpsed crossing a road with an animal carcass held in its jaws.
In short, the idea of investigating the land should likely have been the first place we started. But no matter.
Within mere days, we almost literally stumbled upon a somewhat secluded glen near the Loch’s edge, bordered by dense forest and undergrowth. At first, it seemed like an ordinary small clearing with a narrow stream of water moving downward to the lake itself. But then… we noticed the bones.
Scattered across an area of approximately 30 square meters were numerous bone fragments, varying in size and apparent age.
Closer inspection revealed that the bones had come from multiple large mammals of at least four to five distinct species, including what appeared to be cervine and ovine remains.
Even stranger than this, however, was the condition of the bones themselves—nearly all fragments exhibited signs of having been subjected to immense crushing force.
Additionally, many fragments were found embedded in the moss that covered the ground and trailed to the loch’s edge, suggesting that this site had been used repeatedly and over an extended period.
Interestingly, on the edge nearest the loch, a kind of “trail” led to the water, wherein the vegetation was compressed into the Earth, before terminating in a muddy slide that led into the lake itself.
The simple explanation for this would have been a large mammal—except that the typical large predators, such as bears or wolves, are not found in this region. And even if that were the case, the immense crushing force previously mentioned, combined with the distribution pattern of the remains, suggest a creature at least somewhat comfortable both on land and in water.
The aforementioned “slide” resembled an otter slide in many ways, but the amount of force under which the plants there had been smashed indicated a creature of unusually immense weight.
For the next few days, this little clearing in the woods became my team’s second home. We set up numerous areas of hidden observation, a makeshift trap, and at last, constructed a kind of chemical lure designed to mimic the scent of several varieties of local fauna.
The details of this stage of the investigation are detailed in the accompanying documentation.
Suffice it to say that at roughly 1am on a cold night, five days after the start of our land-based observations, we obtained a live sample.

The Monster

Theories as to the identity of the monster of the loch have varied greatly over the years. Though the popular depiction is of a plesiosaur, this always seemed extraordinarily unlikely to me for many reasons. Other theories, beyond normal phenomena such as logs and otters, have ranged from sharks to even mollusks.
But I will waste no more time in relaying my findings, my valued listener. The so-called Loch Ness Monster is in fact a giant species of amphibious predatory teleost fish, uniquely adapted to the environment of Loch Ness.
First, a matter of taxonomy. It is my belief that this novel species is a relative of Anguilla anguilla, the European eeI, and Conger conger, the conger eel, the former of which is known in the region.
Therefore, I propose the nomenclature Anguilla nessianicus.
Of course, many members of this particular species have grown to proportions that dwarf any of its closer relatives by several orders of magnitude.
Indeed, the creature that we managed to contain late that night measured a staggering 21 feet in length. I will note, however, that I believe that even this impressive size is relatively small compared to what else the Loch holds. We will return to this as well.
First, allow me to describe the captured specimen in more detail. The body of A. nessianicus is elongated and serpentine, covered in smooth, scaleless skin and protected by a thick coat of mucus. Its coloration is a dark grey on the dorsal side, fading to a lighter grey underneath - a suitable camouflage for the deep, dark waters of Loch Ness.
A continuous dorsal fin runs the length of its body, with small, yet distinct pectoral fins. The head features an elongated snout with a slightly protruding lower jaw, housing multiple rows of sharp, recurved teeth.
Of course, many of these features are common in eels. But there are a few observed distinctions that set it apart from its anguilliforme relatives.
For example, its head-to-body ratio is larger, with a more distinct skull shape that seems to allow for greater articulation, both in swimming and in hunting. The creature's skin also diverges from typical eel physiology, being noticeably thicker and more robust, with a mucus coating that seems particularly adapted to cold, peat-rich waters.
The creature’s eyes are well-adapted for low light conditions. Additionally, the creature's lateral line system appears more complex than that of other eel species, with a higher concentration of sensory pores. This enhanced sensory apparatus likely allows it to navigate and hunt effectively in the murky waters of the loch.

In my opinion, these distinct characteristics, combined with its sheer size, clearly delineate Anguilla nessianicus as a unique species.
Now, at this point, it’s worth noting the the idea of the monster of loch ness being an eel is not new, by any means—many have voiced this possibility, going back at least fifty years. Indeed, even if we had not obtained a living specimen, the hypothesis fits well.
After all, in general, eels are extremely resilient, able to cope with environmental changes that other fish could not, while also being able to subsist on a wide variety of food items, or even go for months without eating.
And even in normal circumstances, eel lifespans can approach a century.
But it is how this hypothesis is observed in Loch Ness, specifically, that is a truly fascinating sequence.

Life Cycle

Though we still know little about the life cycle of this particular species, much can be extrapolated based on current models of eel reproduction and migration, as well as from observation of subadults in the loch.
As with all members of the Anguilla genus, the journey of nessianicus begins in the Sargasso Sea. Upon hatching, the leptocephalus larvae embark on a transoceanic migration, riding the Gulf Stream towards the shores of Scotland—a journey of many hundreds of miles. As they approach the continental shelf of the coast, these larvae undergo metamorphosis into glass eels, their bodies becoming somewhat more robust.
They then enter Moray Firth and navigate up the River Ness. However, it’s important to note that this access along the river is relatively shallow.
It is once these juveniles reach the loch that the life cycle of nessianicus diverges.
Though the conversations with people in the region proved less than fruitful in regard to the monster itself, my team and I did pick up on a legend of a… different sort.
It would seem that at some point in the past, there existed an alternate access to the North Sea, in the form of an subterranean river that provided a deeper and more direct channel from the Loch.
For reasons that I hope will soon become clear, I believe it highly likely that not only is such a channel possible, but the most likely scenario.
You see, part of the construction of the A82 highway, a process which began in the early 20th century, required the use of controlled explosions.
Meanwhile, the population of eels we have described, after spending a time in the loch, would normally return to the Sargasso to spawn—a typical catadromous behavior.
However, my hypothesis is that the dynamite used in highway construction in the early 1930s collapsed the underground river leading to the sea, and coincided with an increase in reported sightings.
Trapped in the loch and unable to complete their normal life cycle, these eels' growth patterns were fundamentally altered. Instead of entering the "silver eel" stage marked by cessation of feeding and physiological changes for ocean migration, they reverted to a feeding state and entered a unique post-maturation growth phase.
This prolonged period is marked by accelerated growth and a voracious appetite. It is my belief that the 21-foot specimen we captured represents an individual in the late stages of this phase.
However, though these large eels may account for many sightings of the so-called monster, it doesn’t stop there.
Unable to complete their normal life cycle, in a few select individuals, the energy obtained from food was used to fuel further growth.
As previously mentioned, eel lifespans approaching 100 years are not unheard of, and with these large specimens unable to vacate Loch Ness to spawn, over the decades, they have simply continued to grow larger.
Of course, as they did so, the creatures’ need to feed grew as well. But the abundance of prey items within Loch Ness is highly seasonal, with many fish species undergoing similar migratory patterns.
During the warmer months, when the lake teems with fish, nessianicus primarily subsists on a piscivorous diet, though it is not above bottom-feeding. In fact, eels will eat just about anything.
But with winter comes scarcity, and these large creatures are forced to adapt. This, primarily, is when the monster of Loch Ness set its sights on the land.

Feeding

It may come as a surprise to learn that a fully aquatic species may hunt on land, but not only is this behavior precedented in the natural world, it is actually quite common.
Many species of fish, including eels, are known to traverse land for different reasons—usually to reach better habitats—and, yes, to hunt. Anguilla anguilla, specifically, is known to be able to survive for days out of the water, if the conditions are right. Some have even been observed climbing the sheer surface of river dams.
As their prey dwindles into winter, nessianicus, like its relatives, is able to propel itself onto the shore, using its thick and muscular body to move in a serpentine pattern, and with surprising speed.
This ability provides access to a host of prey items that would be inaccessible to other fish, including insects, snails, and small mammals.
But of course, as the small population of nessianicus grew, so did the size of their preferred prey.
The “kill zone” we stumbled across exhibits clear evidence of nessianicus frequently feeding on mammals as large as deer and sheep—a fact corroborated by several nocturnal eyewitness sightings.
This brings me to another point, and one that helps explain the relatively infrequent nature of sightings of “nessie” in general.
First, because nessianicus is well-suited to the darkness, their eyes are particularly sensitive to bright lighting conditions. This means that they spend most of the daylight hours at depth, where no light penetrates at all, foraging and conserving energy. Of course, this also means that they are unlikely to ever be glimpsed at the surface, especially during the summer months.
During winter, especially when this region of Scotland experiences only about seven hours of daylight, nessianicus can afford to wait to breach the shoreline until darkness falls.
In this regard, the timing of our study was unintentionally fortuitous—we may have never found a specimen had we visited in the summer.
In short, it would seem that this species exerts itself onto the land only when conditions are most favorable, which happens to be in winter, at night, and only when extremely hungry.

Behavior in the water

We’ve established that Anguilla nessianicus is capable of hunting on land, and this not only explains many sightings, but also the lack of many more.
But what about those rare sightings of the creature in the water?
Though many such sightings are certainly misidentifications, many have described the monster as having multiple “humps” that protrude out of the water. The presence of a giant eel can explain these as well.
In our observations of the collected specimen, an eel of even this length, swimming along the surface, most certainly gives the appearance of a large-body creature with multiple humps.
As the specimen turned in the water, rotated, and dived, its thick body so resembled an even larger creature that it seemed to me almost like an optical illusion. Additionally, when the eel dives, it thrashes its tail wildly, creating quite a disturbance and displacing a fair amount of water—appearing something like a boiling cauldron.
At this point, my valued listener, you may be wondering: if the specimen we collected could be considered an intermediate phase of growth, just how large can this species get?
That is the very question I asked myself. In theory, most sightings could be accounted for even by a creature of this size. But the clearing in which we trapped this specimen may have held the clues to something much larger.
You see, though the collected specimen is capable of taking down mammals, it would have difficulty with adult deer and even sheep. But we found the bones of both, splintered in ways that clearly indicated immense crush—or bite—force.
Furthermore, the flattened vegetation we observed left a distinct imprint of a creature that far outweighed the specimen we caught.
It is my belief that at least one individual nessianicus, likely a female, has lived in Loch Ness for decades, and has been trapped there since the 30s. My estimates place the creature at between 50 to 60 feet in length, and some 6,000 pounds in weight—placing it squarely in the realm of superpredator.
Perhaps the moniker of “monster” is somewhat appropriate after all.

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If you’ve listened thus far, and if my premise hasn’t turned you away, another question has likely come into your mind.
If a creature of this size exists in Loch Ness, how has no other evidence ever been found? Would we not have found remains or something similar?
These are good questions, but ultimately, I believe that even these are explainable.
First, as previously established, Loch Ness is deep—up to 800 feet in places—and has more than enough volume to conceal many creatures of this size, were that to be the case.
These deep waters provide a stable, cold environment for the creature, while also offering refuge from surface disturbances and light.
Second, when eels die, they tend to sink, and their bodies decompose rapidly. When they reach a certain size, nessianicus would have no natural predators in the area, and so would almost always die of “natural” causes, their carcass sinking far from where any human eye would find them.
But also, as we’ve seen, the largest individual, or individuals, has been living into modern times, and thus no remains would be left to find.
Third, the very act of attempting to locate “nessie” may actually force the creature away. For example, researchers and hunters often ping the water with active sonar, attempting to locate the monster. This undoubtedly causes the eels, with their sensitive electroreceptors and lateral line, to retreat to the depths and any escarpments that may provide refuge.
While my hypotheses have been limited to the novel species we have documented here, there is no reason to believe that such large sizes are not possible for other species of eel—given the right events and conditions.
It seems to me very possible that, following the glacial retreats at the end of the last ice age, something like what we have observed in Loch Ness could have occurred in other isolated lakes around the globe, with numerous different species of eel… Lake Champlain in America, Okanagan in Canada, Storsjön in Sweden.
I am confident that should my travels take me to these regions, we would find the descendants of a family of giant, prehistoric abysso-pelagic oceanic eels, each of which likely became trapped in glacially-carved lakes between successive ice ages.
But those will be studies for a different time.

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We were fortunate to have obtained not only evidence of these fascinating creatures, but a living specimen.
But even so, the true mystery evades us still, lurking at depths even we have little hope of reaching. At some point, the largest of this species may make itself known, but time may be short.
Given its presumed age, it seems likely that the 50-60-foot specimen I have described is already at the terminal stage of its “giant” phase, and may soon be entering senescence. Maybe it already has.
It is possible, and perhaps even likely, that new juveniles reach the Loch every year. But, unable to return to the sea, the cycle of extended growth begins again. However, it remains to be seen whether the sizes I have described here are an extreme exception, or the common result for any surviving individuals.
What I can say is that if you happen to visit Loch Ness, limit your observations to the daylight. You never know what might be lurking, just beneath the water’s edge.

Sources

• The theory of Nessie being a giant eel is not new, but most of the scientific details in this video were adapted from “research” conducted by William McDonald as promotion for a 2005 novel called The Loch, which was authored by Steven Alten.
• The “science”: https://www.bookfrom.net/science-behind-the-loch/353106-steve_alten.html
• The book: https://www.stevealten.com/books/the-loch/
• The researcher (yes, this is the correct site): https://www.alienufoart.com/
• The author: https://www.stevealten.com/
• https://www.inverness-courier.co.uk/news/report-of-strange-spectacle-on-loch-ness-in-1933-leaves-unanswered-question-what-was-it-139582/

Watch the video here:

Scientific Name

Anguilla nessianicus

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