I remember the date exactly. Because when you see Champ, you remember the date. Friday, September 16, 1994 at 6:05 p.m. Where? On my deck, which overlooks the east-facing Inland Sea in the Champlain Islands. I was with a property appraiser, who had just finished his appraisal. I had never met him before.

So here is the scene. The air was clear. Like glass but clearer, no reflection. Not a cloud. No wind. Not a so much as a dimple on the Lake surface. The sun had set. No afterglow. Dusk approached in shades of gray monotones, as the lake, sky and mountains often are.

It was one of those early fall evenings when you pause to let in the quiet, calm beauty of the lake, if only for a few minutes. There were no boats of any kind, which is common on this side of the lake, especially in September. In fact, there wasn’t a sign of human life, except us.

Photo by Jan Doerler

We both jumped and yelped. You could say we were startled, but that would be understating our reaction. It was more like OMG what the hell is that! A monster, a serpent, something alien for sure! We were hooting. Running away was out of the question, though we both felt like it. This thing was about 100 to 150 feet away from us.

Looking down from the deck, we could clearly see it was black and slick-skinned. The head and neck were about four feet out of the water, the only part visible, because the rest of its black body was deep in black water. The head was shaped like a closed fist and the neck was wide and thick.

My pal, the appraiser and I tried to be calm. I asked him if he was crazy. He said no. That was reassuring. I clearly stated I was not crazy either. In fact. I am a big skeptic. I believe nothing, if I don’t see it or it is proven science. I did not believe any of those people who had claimed to see Champ really actually did. Until that moment. And even then….

While we were staring at him, fixated, now with binoculars—oh and by the way. The appraiser who always has film in his camera—you remember film, right?—had used it all. My camera, which always had film in it, was empty. We had no way to prove what we were seeing. It was tragic then, and to this day, I still groan when I think of it.

So Mr. Appraiser and I began a process of double-checking each other. Did he see what I saw? Did I see what he saw? We had time because this Thing was weaving its way toward the center of the lake…it did not submerge. We were able to witness its movement through the water. We followed its every move for a total of forty-five minutes as dusk settled in, constantly estimating and verifying distance, and every detail with each other. Reality checks to avoid distortion or exaggeration.

We ruled out every animal we could think of: dog, seal, otter, snake, sturgeon, big fish, even a log, a rogue wave. Nothing fit. Finally, we concluded that we were witness to the real thing, the mysterious elusive Lake Champlain monster, Champ. And damned if we could prove it.

Then, the creature did the most amazing and unexpected thing. Champ turned around and came right toward the shore, meaning straight toward us.

We gulped hard. Could not speak. Ran down the deck stairs and onto the rocky shoreline. With my binoculars, passing back and forth between us, we watched Champ slowly gliding toward us face first. Now we could see clearly that its eyes were on either side of its head.

The few friends I have dared to share this story with often ask how I felt as Champ approached. I can tell you, I was terrified and thrilled at the same time. Terrified of the unknown, and thrilled by the experience.

To this day, I think we two had more exposure to Champ than anyone else has ever reported. Because we knew we could not prove what we saw, we agreed not to tell anyone for a week, and then check back for another reality check. This did not happen.

Checking in with the bank the following Monday about my appraisal, everyone in the bank, and I mean everyone, had heard about our sighting. No one believed us.

What I know about a belief is: that it is your experience and no one else’s. A belief is not fact.

But in my heart, in my mind…ever so skeptical as I am…I believe what we saw was the real deal. I cannot prove it and never will, but I ask myself: if that wasn’t Champ, then what was it?

My answer is always the same. It was Champ.

Suzanne Gillis is the publisher of Vermont Woman.