Columnists
Lake with a legend
Did you catch that news item the other day in which the study of Loch Ness for DNA from exotic or extinct species found nothing untoward— except for a surfeit of eel DNA. This study concludes that if there is a Loch Ness Monster, it is probably just a 4XL eel.
That is a sad conclusion for all those who prefer the allure of the legend. It’s also bad news for the Loch Ness tourist industry, as a Loch Ness Giant Eel, while still tempting, doesn’t quite stir the blood the way a Loch Ness Monster does. But every cloud has a silver lining. And if the County is on the ball, it may stand to benefit.
The Scots have got their hands full these days, what with Brexit and the prospect of another independence referendum. And not everyone has the wherewithal to visit Scotland. Why not seize the moment and start a rumour that one of the lakes in the County has an unusual example of marine life— enough to bring out curiosity seekers, who will want to believe it true and who will spread word of what they think they’ve experienced; which will in turn create more tourist traffic in the County?
Given the state of the photoshopping art these days compared to what it was in the early days of the Loch Ness Monster legend, it should be easy to develop a credible photographic image to support the rumour. And it needn’t be a full blown Monster—just a Giant Jellyfish or Huge Squid would do the job quite nicely.
That’s not the way things get done in the County, however. Given the potential tourist draw, council will assert its right to control the development of any lake legend. It will— after putting out tenders, of course—engage a consultant with a $30,000 contract to determine which of the County’s lakes would be the best candidate for an official legend. The consultant will evaluate the ability of local residents to invent stories and act as tourism ambassadors, and consider the ability of the local economy to withstand an increase in tourism, with particular reference to parking and short-term accommodation.
Months later, the report will come back to council, which will vote to receive the report and refer it to staff for further analysis and recommendations. However, the staff person who would normally review the report has left and the position is not filled, so the report sits around for another year or so.
Eventually a report comes back to council, sitting as Committee of the Whole, with the staff recommending the Fish Lake Giant Tuna legend, which is the legend the consultant had recommended in the report. However, the Lake on the Mountain people get wind off the matter, and send a deputation to argue that the staff analysis was flawed and the winner should have been their Giant Prehistoric Crayfish.
After a passionate debate, council votes in favour of the Lake on the Mountain Giant Prehistoric Crayfish option, overriding the staff recommendation. This is turn enrages the Fish Lake Giant Tuna people, who bring the matter back to the full council meeting two weeks later and are successful in having the original staff recommendation in their favour adopted.
However, when it comes to offering budgetary support to the project, the Lake on the Mountain Giant Prehistoric Crayfish people strike again, arguing that nobody’s legend should either be the ‘official’ County legend or receive financial support from council. In the end, council decides the whole matter is too politically sensitive, and washes its hands of it, voting to give $500 to any lake booster group that wishes to have a legend developed.
By this time, of course, Amherst Island has approved and developed its “Giant Otter World Amusement Park” with “spectacular wind turbine thrill rides,” which has proven so popular the provincial government has taken the Glenora Ferry out of service in order to meet the demand—and our council is called into emergency session to try to get it restored.
Council duly meets and discovers it is hopelessly deadlocked. It therefore returns to a subject it is more comfortable with—the size of council. It decides, in a burst of inspiration, to turn its debate into a major tourist attraction: “Giant Democracy in Action Theatre.” For some reason, that idea, solid as it may be, never catches on.
In the end, the denizens of Fish Lake and Lake on the Mountain make peace and decide to have an annual softball tournament and picnic—a Giant Monster Tournament, with lots of salads and desserts. The County—even without a lake legend to speak of—regains its lustre as the best place on the planet. And to make the story end even more happily, the Loch Ness DNA study is eventually scientifically discredited, which means that the Loch Ness people can once again peddle their Monster story to a public eager to believe in it.
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