The belief in monsters is as old as the mind and imagination of mankind. Dragons inhabited ancient China as did the Chimera in ancient Greece. The likenesses of anomalous creatures adorn cave walls in Europe and feathered serpents are frozen in the stone facades of the temples in Mesoamerica. In ancient times it was rare that the wayward sailor actually sailed off the edge of the world since the wily sea serpent patrolling this realm was an opportunistic brute. Then there are the modern day fantastic creatures. In the terrestrial domain, the Yeti, Sasquatch, and Jersey Devil are still seen or heard by a few individuals while Nessie, Tessie, and Champ are the aquatic denizens that prowl the dark depths of the lakes and lochs. However, all of these creatures are put off by the brightness and clamor of our florescent, electronic and mechanical world. They’re rarely seen anymore and most people simply scoff at any mention of their presence; truly endangered species, all of them. But if you were to hike alone deep into the wilderness and set a camp, I can assure you that as the embers of your fire die away and the shadows begin to creep in, you will feel them out there . . . lurking.

Over the years I’ve spent countless hours paddling my kayak on the tranquil waters of Blue Ridge Lake. I enjoy watching the V expand as the bow of my boat knifes through the water--how long before the small waves reach their respective shores? Sometimes I become mesmerized by the rhythmic stroke of my paddle; watching the bow lurch forward slightly as the paddle takes its purchase in the dark green waters, over and over and over . . . .

Once, after paddling to the head of the lake and back, I rested on the placid waters of Star Creek Cove. My reverie was suddenly broken by an incredible spray-blowing snort not five feet off the stern quarter of my kayak! I almost tipped over but a last second paddle brace saved me. It’s incredible how the mind can make certain adrenaline induced determinations about an unknown in the span of half a second. At that instant--and sight unseen--I knew that this thing was BIG, very CLOSE, and ALIEN to my world! As the hackles on the back of my neck began to settle, I slowly turned my head, not knowing exactly at what I would soon be looking. And there IT was! It had a mossy crown that protruded several inches above the water and big dark eyes that stared deeply into my own. A foot or so below the eyes, pulsing nostrils rose from the water and clouds of mist periodically erupted from them. Swirls in the water six to eight feet behind its head indicated that most of this creature was still below the surface. Puhhhtt! it loudly blew and a foul spray rained down upon me. It then turned and swam toward the other side of the lake, apparently no longer interested in determining just what I might be. As the creature slowly swam away, its crown and nostrils were but silhouettes in the field of wavering diamonds that reflected off the water and its occasional noisy snort mistily danced in the brightness. The encounter had been but for a brief moment, but in that moment I had connected with a long lost primeval past; a past when beasts lurked . . .in daylight.

Heartbeat back to near normal, I paddled away and as I passed Rocky Point three men waved me to shore. As I paddled to within conversational distance, one of them asked, "You ain’t seen a cow ‘round here, have you? We had one to bolt clean out of the truck soon as we pulled up to the slaughterhouse . . . must have smelled the place or something." It then dawned on me that, as the crow flies, the Morganton abattoir sat no more than a quarter mile from where we talked. Have you ever watched a movie or read a book where the successful escape of a fugitive from certain death hinged upon the words of a third party? "Nope, haven’t seen a thing," I answered. They turned and walked off in the opposite direction.

Ken Strickland