By Michael Patrick O’Brien–
My family loves me, but never hesitates to remind me about my many defects. A commonly-discussed flaw is my innate inability to spot most of the sea creatures inhabiting the aquamarine depths of my life. The family has a fair point.
I have never seen Nessie, the Loch Ness monster. Perhaps that’s not the best example, because I have never been to Scotland either. I have been to Jamaica and Hawaii, where snorkeling is a popular way to spot sea creatures. These trips merely underscored that my snorkeling skills are…well, let’s just say challenged.
The challenge is both etymological and olfactorial. I cringe when I hear the word “snorkel.” The word reminds me of the unpleasant noise made while battling congestion on a cold winter’s morning. (For the same basic reason I stay out of caves so I do not have to say “spelunk,” which sounds like…well, never mind.) Even if I liked the word “snorkel,” my ear, nose, and throat unanimously and simultaneously object whenever I strap on the equipment.
Despite such major challenges, I gave snorkeling a go in both Jamaica and Hawaii. In Jamaica I failed miserably, and saw no sea creatures. To be fair, my efforts were hampered by an abundance of free rum and by the decision of my then eight year old daughter Megan—deathly afraid of fish—to sit on top of my head while we were in the water together.
I launched another snorkeling attempt in Hawaii, when Megan was 20 and a little less pescanoid. My ineffective technique was to hold my breath and stick my masked face in the water. We were in a lovely cove my family claims was populated by dozens of sea turtles (the number grows exponentially with each retelling of the story). I did not see any of them, and doubt they were there, despite the almost certainly photo-shopped evidence possessed by my daughter Erin.
Bear Lake in Northern Utah has sea creatures too, one a long brown serpent-like monster said to resemble Nessie. I have visited the lake several times but, consistent with the theme articulated above, I’ve never seen the Bear Lake monster. My family members shake their heads sadly upon learning about yet another example of my imperfection, but I just may be able to cope with this one. Here’s why.
The monster legend, conceived in Native American lore, was born into mainstream culture when a clever lakeside resident named Joseph C. Rich wrote to The Deseret News about it on July 27, 1868. Rich, the son of Latter-day Saint Apostle Charles C. Rich, reported how recent events at the lake had revived local speculation about the monster.
Rich’s writing is surprisingly crisp and witty. For example, he wonders why the “leading journals of the world” do not have correspondents in the Bear Lake Valley. He notes the only things hard to obtain there are “clothes, provisions, and money.” And he tells how a poor wagon master lost his mule team, and then also $400, while crossing a river. Rich quotes some local wisdom: “When a man begins to go down hill, all the wheels seem to have been greased for the occasion.”
Acknowledging the longstanding native legends about a lake monster carrying swimmers away, Rich’s letter first explains that until the summer of 1868, the “monster question” had “about died out.” This changed with three contemporary sightings by “reliable people whose veracity is undoubted.”
In the first sighting, a man saw a floating log that turned out to be the upper torso of an animal turning its head and neck. The observer reported, “The waves at times would dash over its head, when it would throw water from its mouth or nose.”
In the second sighting, three women and a man saw a large creature which “swam much faster than a horse could run on land.” Then, a few days later, ten people saw six or seven brownish monsters of varying (but large) size swim by at rapid speed. Several of the ten folks said they “never saw a locomotive travel faster.”
Given this spate of sightings, Rich speculated, “If so large an animal exists in this altitude and in so small a lake, what can it be? It must be something new under the sun, the scriptural text to the contrary, notwithstanding. Is it fish, flesh or serpent, amphibious, am-fabulous, or a great big fib, or what is it?” Rich offered no answers, instead writing, “I will leave to you to judge whether or no its merits are merely traditionary.”
His father, the apostle, offered this post script to the younger Rich’s letter: “I have talked with some of the parties in relation to the monster story, and it is as Joseph has stated it.” A few weeks later, Deseret News publisher George Q. Cannon wrote an editorial confirming that—from his own conversations—“the brethren” from Bear Lake Valley “all firmly believe the account as published.” By September 1868, there were reports of monsters in Utah Lake too, some 165 miles to the south.
I may always miss out on sea creatures during family outings, but to date, I am the only member of the O’Brien family who has spotted and read Rich’s delightful, 152 year old story of the Bear Lake beast. I am no longer disappointed that I have not seen the monster, for Rich’s account is better than being there. The pen is mightier than the snorkel.
(Stay tuned…more lake monster lore to come this week!)
*Mike O’Brien is a writer and attorney living in Salt Lake City, Utah. His book about growing up with the monks at the old Trappist monastery in Huntsville, Utah will be published in the Spring of 2021.
