Entry XIII: Beneath Still Waters

The waters of Lake Champlain have witnessed centuries of history.

Indigenous stories passed down through generations.

Sailors reporting strange encounters.

Witnesses describing something moving beneath the surface where nothing should be.

For over four hundred years, rumors of a creature known as Champ have lingered among the deep waters separating Vermont and New York.

But are these sightings evidence of an undiscovered animal?

Or is something else hiding beneath the lake?

Tonight, we explore one of North America's most enduring lake monster legends.

Transcript

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Raising my paddles out of the water. Finally able to relax. The sun is shining. Boats dot the water in every direction. Families laugh from distant shorelines. A true example of a hot Vermont summer day. The ride was nice. Not too choppy. Not too windy. The perfect day to drop some bait. I set up my reel and cast it out, waiting to see what might come my way. And in no time, the race was on. Lying, screaming from the reel. It felt like whatever was on the other end had no intention of coming quietly. Thrashing about trying to not get thrown overboard. I held my ground. Alternating between giving line and taking it back. The battle seemed nowhere close to ending. That is, until the line snapped. There was no fight, no tension, nothing. Just silence. And the feeling of almost. Almost catching it. Almost coming away with late legend. I reel in the line to survey the damage. And to my surprise, there was no hook or bobber. The whole line was picked clean. Fumbling through my tackle box, I reset the line and send it out again. Eagle eyeing the bobber as it landed. The bobber settling on the water when. This time it was unmistakable. That was deliberate. I quickly begin gathering things to head to shore when something in the water starts to move. So turn down the lights. Get comfortable. And settle in to hear the story of what lies beneath still waters. Welcome to the Book of Lore. Long before the stories, Lake Champlain has always been a beautifully interesting place. Home to the indigenous people who've lived and hunted the land for years, the Abenaki and the Iroquois, each with their own beliefs of what lurks beneath. The Abenaki called a Gittiscog. Early on, when the French first came to explore the area, the Abenaki warned not to disturb the waters, fearing they might disturb what rested down below. Like many stories passed down through generations, descriptions varied depending on who told them. Some accounts described a great serpent moving through the water. Others spoke more generally of a powerful being inhabiting the lake below. But whatever form it took, the warning remained the same. The water demanded respect. And for those who lived along the shores of Lake Champlain, that belief existed long before the first European maps ever marked its location. Though history is fuzzy on this, around the year 1609, during the exploration of Samuel de Champlain, he was credited with being the first European to see the lake's most famous inhabitant. But after reading his account from the encounter, many believe he was actually describing an alligator gar, a fish that still inhabits the region today. Stretching from the shores of the Mississaquo Bay to the valleys of the Adirondy's, this land meant a great deal. From its early days as a battleground to the maritime escape it became, Lake Champlain has been there for it all. Nestled between New York and Vermont, the lake has become a source of relaxation for many, giving them an aquatic oasis just within their backyard. Farmers markets, jet skis, biking trails on the causeway. Simple pleasures that have all become a part of everyday life. But while the people enjoy the privileges from the lake above, something else sits hidden away in the murky depths below. Unsure of its specific origin, the creature is said to have many names. Some call it the Gittiscog. Others call it the Lake Champlain monster. Why do I have to call it champ? Since the first reported sightings in 1819, the creature has captured the imagination of anyone who claimed to see it. Rumored to look eerily similar to another monster from the Scottish Highlands, sporting a long neck, thick body, and trail and tail to match. Through the years, there have been hundreds of reported sightings of the creature. Some claimed to see the head and long neck of a serpent. Others remember seeing a black monster. One captain who reported seeing Champ claimed to be 187 feet long, with the head of a seahorse, three teeth, and eyes like peeled onions. Though the list of sightings and encounters are extensive, there are none that mean more to the history of the creature than the story of Sandra Mancy in her famous photo. The day after the anniversary of our country's independence in 1977, Sandra and her children were on the beach near St. Albans on the Vermont side of the lake. With her feet in the sand, she sat watching her children play, running around, splashing themselves, doing what kids do, watching the other families enjoying their time out in the sun. But out of the corner of her eye, she began to see something stirring within the lake. Rifling through her purse, she found the Kodak instromatic she bought for the trip. Hoping to have one shot left, she cranked the wheel at the top of the camera and. But what she saw changed everything we thought we knew about the existence of the Lake Champlain monster, resulting in an image now known as the Manti photograph. With his back turned toward the camera, the photo shows, he was able to clearly see a creature with his head and neck sticking partially out of the water. Squarely resembling the estimated 15 to 50 feet size that had been reported for the creature. To verify her findings, the photo was sent to the University of Arizona's Optical Sciences Center for analysis, and what they found was actually pretty shocking. They believed the photo had not been tampered with. No signs of any editing, pulleys, ropes, or evidence of a hoax of any kind. But while believers pointed to the report as a validation, skeptics remained unconvinced. Many argued the object in the photograph wasn't a living creature at all. Some believed it was nothing more than a partially submerged log. Others suggested a fallen tree trunk or driftwood floating just beneath the surface. To them, the image wasn't proof of a monster. It was simply an explanation of how easily the human mind can assign meaning to something it doesn't fully understand. And perhaps that's what made the photograph so powerful. Not that it proved Champ existed. But the decades later, people were still arguing about what exactly it showed, sparking renewed public interest into the creature at large, with people wanting to know more about the monster living in Lake Champlain. But alas, they ran into a problem. Though the photo was believed to be the real thing, they still needed a way for it to be proven. Sandra looked high and low, ultimately realizing she threw away the negative and forgot where the photo was taken, forcing the need for other corroborating materials to be collected. Eyewitness accounts began skyrocketing of humps, fins, and long necks breaking the surface, though none were proven. In 1993, Japanese teams searched the entire lake with multiple boats and helicopters, coming back with a sonar report of something extremely, extremely big, reportedly discovering a large object about 20 feet long traveling just beneath their feet. And if true, it would certainly be an intriguing discovery. But even then, questions remained. Lake Champlain stretches more than 100 miles from north to south and reaches depths of over 400 feet in some locations. A place so large and complex, it makes identifying objects beneath the surface incredibly difficult. Sonar can reveal that something is there. Determining exactly what that something is, however, becomes another challenge entirely. A large fish, a submerged object, or something yet unexplained. The data alone couldn't provide an answer. Ten years later, a different team came to the lake to run tests, picking up a high-pitched ticking and chirping sound that resembled something similar to a dolphin or a whale. Being many miles away from the ocean, that just couldn't be the case. With some even believing the creature to be a dinosaur from the Jurassic period named a plesiosaur. After years of being held behind closed doors, the Mancy photograph was finally revealed to the public and has since been displayed at the Echo Lake Aquarium and Science Center in Burlington, Vermont. Accompanied was a video of Mancy recounting her tale, even turning the aquarium's executive director into a believer over time. And the feeling on the Lake Champlain monster began to change. No longer were the people of the area scared of the unexplained creature. In fact, the opposite was happening. Instead, they became fascinated by the idea that they had a legend they can call their own. And with that shift, Champ was no longer just a story whispered around town. He had become a symbol of Lake Champlain itself. Mascots, merchandise, even food. Champ was everywhere, becoming more visible by the day, with local organizations holding festivals and events like Champ Day and Champ Fest, spreading awareness about the region's most beloved cryptid. In Vermont, the state's minor league baseball team, the Vermont Lake Monsters, adopted Champ as their mascot after changing the team name. The decision only increased the creature's popularity, helping transform Champ into a legend in his own right. Being posted prominently in local events, logos, and tourist promotions, even becoming the unofficial cryptid of the state of Vermont, protected in many areas of the region. A strange fate for a creature that many thought not to even exist at all. Most monsters are hunted, dismissed, explained away. But Champ was embraced, welcomed into the identity of the lake itself. And maybe that's why the story has survived for so long. Not because of what people saw, but because of what they wanted to believe. That beneath the surface of this beautiful place, there's still room for mystery. That somewhere beyond the boats, beyond the fishing lines, beyond the tourists and shores, something unknown still moves through the depths. Whether champ is a surviving relic from another age, a misidentified animal, or simply a story carried forward by generations of people who love this lake, the legend remains. And as long as people continue watching the water, waiting for a ripple, a shadow, or a brief rise of a long neck breaking the surface, champ will never truly disappear. The legend remains. Because somewhere, someone is still looking. And maybe. Not what lives beneath it. But the fact that after all these years, we still look. We still wonder. And perhaps. That's enough. For the Book of Lore, I'm Jawan Leday. And remember, stay safe. And keep turning the page. Until next time. Before we close this entry, I'd like to hear from you. Every town has its stories. A haunted road nobody drives after dark. A local legend passed down for generations. An encounter someone swears really happened. If there is a legend from your hometown, a strange experience you've lived through, or a story you'd like to see explored in a future entry of the Book of Lore, send it my way. Some stories refuse to stay buried. Yours might become the subject of a future entry. So until next time, keep turning the pages. New episodes of the Book of Lore release every Tuesday. Please rate, follow, and review. It greatly helps the show. Have any other lovers of lore in your life? Share with your friends, family, and loved ones to help the show become a place for lovers of the spooky, mythical, and creepy to come together. You can follow the show on Instagram, TikTok, and threads at Book of LorePod. Have a great week, and thanks for listening.