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Stalking Altie: Does Georgia have its own Loch Ness Monster?

Altie may not be real, but yeah, it's a thing


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  • Amanda Croy

One of Spears' primary resources was author Ann R. Davis, who wrote a short book called The Legend of the Altamaha "Monster" and playfully suggested that the creature literally followed 18th century settlers from a Scottish Loch. Davis also compiled a website of Altie sightings from 1969 to 2002. I visited some of those places, like the Butler Island Bridge, where a terrified motorist saw a creature wallowing in the mud in 1988, or Two-Way Fish Camp, a busy dock that's received mysterious sub-aquatic visits over the years. Many proved to be within the same 10-mile radius, so it was unnervingly easy to envision an animal roaming around the same territory.

Darien natives treat Altie like the town's unofficial mascot, comparable to leprechauns on St. Patrick's Day. "He lays low, but he's beloved," says Kathleen Russell, the feisty, silver-haired editor of the Darien News, who maintains a thick folder of Altie sightings, letters and other news accounts. "I've seen him a couple of times. Once, a couple of years ago, in Doboy Sound, I saw a wake coming up the river, and there's nothing that could make a wake like that."

Hale, laid-back Danny Grissette of Altamaha Coastal Tours says, "I see it at least once a year. We hear it a lot, too. It seems to know where your back is — you can hear it splash behind you, never in front of you." You get the impression he's joshing around about that, because he also claims to be a skeptic. "If you go looking for monsters, eventually you're going to see one."

The power of suggestion proved to be a heady brew. When my family put our kayaks in the water near the Champney Bridge, it was easy to imagine a creature cruising just below the surface, or that every bump under our hull hinted that a creature out of time was about to capsize us for kicks.

But maybe we don't need to worry about a behemoth from the briny deep. Kennesaw-based cryptozoological researcher Blake Smith points out the challenges for creatures like Altie or the Loch Ness Monster to exist undetected. "It isn't explicitly impossible for Altie to be a surviving relic of the Mesozoic, but it would have to be part of a large population," says Smith. "There would likely be many more sightings since such creatures had to surface for air. And despite the many classic descriptions of lake monsters with swan-like or serpent-like necks, actual plesiosaurs didn't have that kind of neck flexibility."

Since 2009, Smith has co-hosted the podcast "Monster Talk," which considers cryptid lore and so-called evidence through a skeptical lens. He suggests that the natural world holds far more likely explanations. "The common river otter sometimes exhibits a following behavior, where several of the animals will swim in a line surfacing and dipping, creating a very compelling illusion of a single undulating creature," says Smith. "Dolphins and, presumably, manatees or dugongs could also exhibit the same kind of behavior." (Read Smith's extended interview).

Altie could still be real, even if it's not confined to Southeast Georgia. Similar serpentine beasts have been spotted in the Carolinas and North Florida, including a rash of sea monster sightings in Florida's St. Johns River in the 1970s and amateur video of an Altie-like beast near Jacksonville, investigated by the "MonsterQuest" TV show in 2009.

Dallas Tanner, Greenville, S.C.-based author of the novel Wake of the Lake Monster, researched the legends and believes they could all be the same creature, possibly some kind of large, migratory seal ancestor that follows its food supply of fish. "It's been sighted often as many times as people have seen real seals in the same waters," Tanner says.

He asserts that cryptids have some basis in reality. "Myths and legends are what history and science become when they're ignored," he says. "Megafauna are those huge mammals that evolved huge-sized to survive the last ice age, and I don't think they all died off. We've only discovered 10 percent of earth's animals live on 10 percent of earth."

On the river, I kept my eyes peeled for the beast while we floated our kayaks calmly with the current and, later, paddled strenuously against the tide. We saw an eagle's nest in the trees and could hear a wild pig snuffling in the brush, but the highways and heavily trafficked fishing channels were just around the corner. The chance that a monstrous marine animal existed in such a heavily populated area seems ridiculously improbable — but not straight-up impossible.

The closer I came to places where Altie was allegedly seen, the more ambivalent I felt about finding it. Sure, it would be interesting for marine biologists to finally identify some kind of presumed-extinct seal-giraffe. Altie could become the celebrity host of that exhibit Mythic Creatures: Dragons, Unicorns and Mermaids still running at the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. But the gargantuan, possibly man-eating sea serpent of my imagination seemed immeasurably more awesome. If caught, the real Altamaha-ha could never live up to our collective idea of it.

I kept scanning the rise and fall of the green-brown waters, barely giving the passing herons a glance, hoping I'd spot the Altamaha-ha — and sort of hoping that I wouldn't.

I want to believe.

Next: Georgia monster map


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