The Blue Lady of Fallam Lake

She’s evil, she’s holy, she’s bad, she’s good, she’s a monster, she’s a hero… there are nearly as many descriptions of her as there are people who claim to have seen her. I’m talking, of course, about the Blue Lady of Fallam Lake. It’s said that she lives on the bottom of the lake, or maybe in a cave beneath the water where her hearth is warm and dry. How would that even work?

I’m on day eleven of a fourteen-day assignment to try catch the Blue Lady on camera. It’s all a bunch of nonsense, of course, but that’s what they pay me to do. Despite the thick evergreen forest that surrounds the lake, the area reminds me most of Loch Ness. The air is clear, with the heady, resinous scent of pine. Sunlight sparkles on the mild waves of the lake as they lap against the banks.

The only man-made things visible were the boat launch, made of paving stones, and a buoy in the middle of the lake. Viewed through the infrared camera, the inlet of the lake, below the waterline, becomes visible as a cold spot. Somewhere on the bottom of the lake the water finds its way into the bedrock to emerge again in springs near the foot of the mountains in the town of Fallam Cross.

I made my rounds, checking the batteries in all 47 cameras. Some were night vision capable, others were infrared, and of course the rest were standard cameras. All were set to record on motion detection or temperature anomaly. Thus far, I’d gotten loads of good wildlife shots, but no Blue Lady.

The sat-phone’s chirp pulled me out of my quiet enjoyment of my surroundings. “Go for Josh. It’s a beautiful morning, Rachel.”

“Yeah, it’s night here. I just wanted to check in, see how it’s going.”

“Camping with cameras. My favorite thing,” I said. “I just happen to get paid for it.”

“I expected as much. How many hours of footage are we looking at so far?”

“Based on the file size, I’d guess about fifty or sixty. Lots of wildlife footage. I wanted to ask, are we running out of myths to chase? The Blue Lady?”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“It seems like after the first two season we’re getting more obscure.”

“Maybe that’s the point. It means we’re doing stuff the other blokes aren’t. Or would you rather go back for a second round of trying to find a yeti?”

“God no! That was, without a doubt, the most miserable camping trip ever. The Himalayas in the winter... should’ve asked for hazard pay. We could do a Bigfoot follow-up. The Pacific Northwest is nice, and I met some rather… interesting people there.”

“Nope, done to death. Can I get you to do an interview with the constable? There at the lake? Sarah had to fly back home early.”

“Now I’m doing interviews, too?”

“We’ve got most of them in the can already. He wanted to do his there at the lake. Have a walk around, show where everything happened, you know.”

“Is there a list of questions?”

“Just ask him to tell his story and follow him around while he wags his gob. We’ll edit it here.”

“I’m not getting out of it, am I?”

“Nope. He should be there around noon.”

“Fine, fine. Have a good night Rachel.”

“You too... I mean, have a good day.”

I broke out the Steadicam rig and set it up for the interview. As the only drivable approach to the lake was at the boat launch, I waited there for him.

I could hear the truck long before I could see it. Soft birdsong amidst the gentle rustle of trees in the breeze was overwhelmed by the noise. A mechanical intrusion on the natural serenity of the forest. Even after the engine was shut off, the forest remained quiet for a moment, as if expecting it to start again. Soon, though, the birds resumed their song and a breeze moved through the trees like a sigh of relaxation.

He emerged from the distinctive blue and yellow striped and checked police SUV, which was coated in a fine layer of dust from the dirt road to the lake. “You must be Josh. Senior Constable Robert Meadows, but just call me Bob.” He was tanned, with short-cropped blonde hair and light brown eyes. Even through the tan, a hint of freckles played across his nose, hinting at his normally pale coloring.

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Bob.”

“American, eh? Thought you’d be a Brit.”

“The show’s British, I live in Guildford, but yeah, I’m from the US.”

“So, I suppose you want to hear my story.”

“Sure,” I said, turning the camera on. “I’ll just follow you around and you can tell your story the way you like.”

He walked down to the boat launch. “Fallam Lake, named for the town down the mountain, is known to the Maori as ‘Roto Wahine Ngaro’… Secret Woman Lake. There’s stories about the Blue Lady going back hundreds of years.

“I used to think it was all just yarns. Now, I’ve never seen her, but I think there’s something in this lake, and whatever it is, it’s intelligent.” He stopped a few yards from the water’s edge, at the border of the paving stones of the boat launch. “Right here is where I found him. Barely two, in a life vest two sizes too big.”

“Uh, found who?”

“Ah, yeah. Two months ago, we had a sudden blow up here. The weather buoy out there picked up strong northerly winds and severe chop. David Whatcom was out in a boat with his boy. Came out to the wops to get away from the missus and her friends. The boat capsized and washed up on the far shore, over there.” Robert pointed to the furthest section of the lake, and I turned the camera and zoomed in to focus on it, before turning back to him.

“David carked it. His body washed up over there next to the boat. The kid, though, was right here.”

I swept the camera to the far shore and back to where Robert stood. The two points were about half a mile apart.

“Now, either that little guy swam against the storm and some wicked chop, or something delivered him up the boat ramp. When I went to pick him up, the life vest slipped right off over his head. I only found him because I was planning to bowl round to chat David anyway, but came early because of the storm.”

“You’re sure he didn’t drift around until the winds changed?”

“Sure as. The weather buoy out there recorded steady northerly winds until four hours after I picked the lad up.”

“What do you think it is? Any idea?”

“I know bugger all about it. It’s something old, though, innit? The Maori have stories about her, though. In the late 1800’s Cyrus Fallam planned on building a house here. He finished the road and boat launch and then pissed off somewhere. His maid said he went crazy after spending a week up here. Land’s in his name, but as it’s abandoned it’s open for public use.”

I followed him around the lake, where he showed me the area where the boat and David’s body had washed ashore. There was a collection of branches, limbs, and other tree detritus that piled up there.

“As you can see, this is where pretty much everything that falls in ends up.”

I kept filming as he talked about the broken boats and bodies he’d picked up there over the years. He pointed across the lake to the boat launch. “Except for that little boy, everyone and everything I ever had to pick up from this lake was right here or dredged off the bottom.”

After the usual thanks and wrapping up, Robert left and I took a walk around the lake, getting more shots with the Steadicam. I stopped at an area where the view of the moon rising as the sun set was in aesthetic balance. I filmed for a bit as the sun set, figuring it would do for B roll footage.

Having worn the rig for several hours I was tired, and sat by the darkening lake to relax, watching the moon’s reflection on the still water. A breeze picked up, with small gusts, making the reflection dance across the lake. It was then that the clouds rolled in without warning.

The moon was choked out by the dense, black clouds and I decided my rest was over. Wanting to avoid the rain that would be coming any minute, I began to make my way back to my camp site. A flash of lightning and simultaneous crash of thunder blinded me for a moment and all my hair stood on end.

I turned on the camera’s light to see where I was going. The next lightning strike hit the lake. A shockwave buffeted me, the light went out and I tumbled, my head slamming into something hard as I went over the bank into the water. The Steadicam rig was dragging me to the bottom.

I struggled to get the rig off, but my head was throbbing; I had no sense of which way was up. There was a moment where I had the presence of mind to be surprised at how deep the lake was here, close to the shore, then everything went black.

Hail pelted me, waking me where I lay on the boat launch. The rig was gone. Had I managed to drop it? Did the water push me here?

In the flashes of lightning, I could see a tree, or most of one, floating in the lake. Each flash showed it farther away from the launch. Okay, so I swam out? My head was pretty scrambled by the blow. I touched my head, wincing from the pain, and felt warm blood on my fingers. It’s possible I swam out but don’t remember it.

I was still trying to convince myself of that when I saw her. No more than five feet tall, her skin looked blue-green in the lightning. She was nude, definitely female, with large, fin-shaped ears, and no hair. She held a webbed hand raised in a sort of “please be calm” manner. In the other she held the Steadicam. Fifty-four pounds with the camera and sled as configured, and she held it like it was made of balsa.

Just as suddenly as the storm had appeared it passed on, and the moon returned, shining between the breaking clouds. I sat up and waited for her to approach. She walked up to me and set the rig on the ground next to me. Her feet were wide and webbed, looking more like flippers; her eyes were large and completely dark, and she had no nose I could discern.

I reached out my hand to her and she shrank back for a moment. Seeing that I wasn’t moving to grab her, she moved closer and grabbed my hand. Her skin was cool and smooth on the palm, with what felt like small scales on the back.

“I’m Josh,” I said. “Thanks for bringing my camera back. Did… did you save me?”

She nodded and pointed at my head, tilting her own. It seemed she was concerned about my injury. I leaned forward and let her have a look.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” she said, her voice like tinkling glass. When she spoke, I could see her sharp, pointed teeth, and as she breathed, gills on her neck moved.

“Sorry for what?” I was still too dazed to be overwhelmed by the fact that I was talking with the Blue Lady.

“I must tear your clothing. This needs to be bandaged.”

“Okay.”

With little effort on her part, she ripped my shirt into strips and used them to bandage my head. “You should call for help as soon as you can. You don’t want that to get infected.”

“Who are you?”

“Your kind have given me many names, but my real name is Nimue. This lake is currently my home, and my spirit.”

“You mean you’re like the spirit of the lake?”

“No, the lake is my spirit. I am older than the lake, and will live on, elsewhere, when this lake dries up. My spirit can live anywhere there is clean water.”

“Shit, well, we’re not doing such a good job on that these days.”

“There is always clean water,” she said, “even when it is only in the clouds. I was here before humans and I will be here after you have all gone.”

“Are you a god?”

“I have been called that, but I do not think so. I just am.”

“Did you save the little boy?”

“I did. The man with him fought me, though. He was frightened of me. That made me sad, but I cannot help those who reject my help.”

“If the world knows you’re real, this place will be overrun with tourists. The lake would be contaminated in no time.”

“And I would go where my spirit goes. I have lived many human lifetimes in the clouds alone.”

“I would prefer that you have a quiet place to live in peace. And if it’s not too much, I’d like to come back once in a while to visit you.”

“I would appreciate that, Josh.” Despite the lack of eyebrows and the large, black eyes, she emoted clearly enough that I could tell she was curious.

“What’s on your mind, Nimue?”

“You do not fear me, nor treat me like a god. Why is that?”

I smiled. “Well, you look different, but saving my life and rescuing my camera rig goes a long way to making me think of you as a possible friend. Besides, you’re not the strangest person I’ve met.”

“I must return to my spirit, and you must get a human doctor to treat your wound. I will look for you here on the same night, next summer.”

“Here, January 24^th, next year. It’s a date.”

She rose and returned to the water, slipping beneath the surface without a sound. I picked myself up from the ground and picked up the soaked camera rig. The camera was supposed to be waterproof, but the battery cases, monitor, and other sled components were not. It would be an expensive repair.

I was returning to my tent when it hit me… she was on the other cameras! If that footage made it back, she’d be forced out of her lake in no time. By the time I reached the tent I was shivering; whether from being soaked, adrenaline, or the head injury, I didn’t know.

I dropped the Steadicam in the corner and opened the laptop. Using the synchronized time codes, I scrolled back through the footage. Thankfully none of this would be uploaded until I manually sent it via the satellite link. I found the first flash of lightning, then the second. The cameras all blanked out for a moment, then came back on in time to see me drop beneath the surface of the lake. I don’t know how I didn’t drown, as Nimue appeared, dragging me up the boat ramp, a little more than seven minutes later.

I watched the entire exchange from all the cameras that caught it. She showed on the infrared cameras in much the same way that reptiles do. As she moved from the water to the shore, she was cold, but then disappeared as her temperature matched the air. When she headed back into the water her heat showed faintly against the background of the cold water until she slipped underneath.

I erased all the footage from the momentary blackout until just after Nimue left. I sent a hard restart to all the cameras to reset them and considered my job done.

After calling for a cab to take me to the clinic in Fallam I called Rachel to tell her I had been injured in the storm but was okay to carry on.

“How much of the storm did you get?”

“Right up until lightning hit the lake. It knocked out all the cameras. After I fished myself and the Steadicam out of the lake, I reset them all to make sure they’re on while I go get my head stitched up.”

“We still have a couple more nights, maybe we’ll get something on camera,” she said.

“I don’t know, Rachel. We’re chasing myths and make-believe. I’m certain there’s nothing here.”

“You always say that.”

“I always mean it. But I’m kind of loving New Zealand. So you have plenty of time to plan around it, I’m meeting someone here next year, same time.”

“Holiday romance?”

“Well, holiday friend at least.”