Some of the world’s oldest legends revolve around tales of lost continents and the civilizations (usually advanced, of course) that once inhabited them.
The dire fates of these lost lands are as integral a component of these legends as the fantastic creatures that purportedly once inhabited them.
The most famous of these lost continents, of course, is the land of Atlantis, supposedly located in the mid-Atlantic Ocean (hence the name) and touted variously over the centuries as fact or fiction by everyone from Plato to Edgar Cayce.
Some of the world’s oldest legends revolve around tales of lost continents and the civilizations (usually advanced, of course) that once inhabited them.
The dire fates of these lost lands are as integral a component of these legends as the fantastic creatures that purportedly once inhabited them.
The most famous of these lost continents, of course, is the land of Atlantis, supposedly located in the mid-Atlantic Ocean (hence the name) and touted variously over the centuries as fact or fiction by everyone from Plato to Edgar Cayce.
Lesser known than Atlantis, but one that hits closer to home, is the legendary lost continent of Lemuria which—depending on who you listen to—has a tenuous connection to Catalina’s prehistory.
As is often the case with such legends, the number and variety of accounts of these lands seem to rise in inverse proportion to the availability of physical, scientific evidence of their existence. In other words, the less proof there is for a given legend, the more fanciful the tales surrounding it.
Lemuria is no exception and accounts of Lemuria’s location are, literally, all over the map from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific.
While most of the Pacific scenarios place the continent straddling what is today Micronesia and Melanesia, there are those who stretch the geography of this lost land into the eastern Pacific as far as Catalina.
The name “Lemuria,” harks back to the Indian Ocean scenarios when zoologist Philip Sclater theorized that fossils of primates known as lemurs he had discovered in Madagascar could be traced back to a prehistoric continent. This continent, he theorized, would have comprised what is today Madagascar and the African continent.
Lemur fossils aside, the fact that one of the Native American names for Catalina Island was “Limu.” This similarity in names no doubt helped fuel the notion that “Lemuria” was somehow associated with Catalina Island. According to some theories, Catalina stood as a portal on the eastern edge of this lost continent.
Interestingly, the existence of Lemuria was actually part of scientific theory until relatively recently. It wasn’t until the 1920s that science seemed to completely give up on the idea. Advancing theories on plate tectonics helped sound the death knell for the theory at least in scientific circles, but the legend lived on.
Who were the Lemurians and where are they now? Descriptions of this race of beings range from small alien-looking creatures of intelligence to mermaids and even giants.
The “giant” theory fell into place quite nicely with Catalina Island owing to archaeologist Ralph Glidden’s purported discovery of the remains of 7-to-9 foot tall humans in his digs around Catalina. These giants, according to the theory, would have played the role of the “guardians” of Lemuria and as such would have been stationed in places like Catalina on the periphery of the continent.
Apparently powerless to stop the submersion of their Eden-like continent, the Lemurians fled to various locations around the globe, most notably northern California’s Mt. Shasta.
In closing, I thought I’d relate the story of my own introduction to the idea of Lemurians, an event that occurred when I was about eight years old.
My Uncle Mike worked most of his life for the U.S. Forestry Service, a career that kept him and his family constantly on the move from town to town, mostly in remote mountain locations in the Sierras and the Rockies. For many years, the Johnson family lived in McCloud, a tiny town at the foot of Mt. Shasta.
During one of my family’s summer visits to their cabin there, owing to the large number of people between our two clans, I was assigned the cabin’s back porch as my sleeping quarters.
One night, Aunt Diane came back there to check on me in and we spent several minutes admiring the colossus that loomed over the town in the light of a full moon; the immense volcano that the Shasta nation calls Waka-nunee-Tuki-wuki.
“The locals here have a legend that a race of beings called Lemurians lives at the top of Mt. Shasta,” she told me, or words to that effect. She then went on to explain that these creatures had never actually been seen, but that they had been living there for eons and were part of the folklore of the Shasta Indians.
She described them as small, green Elfish creatures that roamed the frozen heights and that were evidently smart enough to not get discovered.
After our conversation, Aunt Diane retired for the night, leaving me alone on the porch to stare at that cold, lonely mountain top, wondering if these “Lemurians” were going to pay me a visit.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night.
Jim Watson is the author of “Mysterious Island: Catalina,” available on Amazon, Kindle and in stores all over Avalon.
