For 40 long years, I have been a ghost-chaser along the wild, mist-shrouded coastlines of British Columbia. While others hunted for standard cryptids or contented themselves with local folklore, my obsession remained fixed on Cadborosaurus willsi—our beloved “Caddy.” I have spent four decades enduring freezing rain, ruined equipment, and the quiet mockery of skeptics who insisted that this legendary marine serpent was nothing more than a string of swimming sea lions or a misplaced basking shark.

But patience is a quiet hammer that eventually breaks any stone. Today, the skepticism ends. I am finally revealing my definitive, unedited video footage to the world, proving once and for all that Cadborosaurus is flesh, blood, and shockingly real. What makes this breakthrough truly staggering, however, is not just that I caught it on high-definition film, but where the encounter took place: inland, in the rural community of Coombs, BC.

Traditionally, Caddy is spotted in the marine waters of the Salish Sea and Cadboro Bay. Yet, seasoned trackers know that Vancouver Island’s complex network of deep, underground aquifers and tidal rivers stretch far past the ocean shorelines. Acting on a tip about a bizarre, massive disturbance in a deep marshy lake fed by the Englishman River watershed just southwest of Coombs, I set up my hidden trail cameras and heavy-lens rigs. I expected another wild goose chase. Instead, I walked right into history.

It happened just after dawn on a crisp morning. The famous Vancouver Island mist was hanging low over the water when a sudden, violent wake fractured the glassy surface. My heart hammered against my ribs—a feeling I hadn’t felt with such intensity since I began this journey forty years ago. I threw the primary camera into record mode, manually focused the lens, and watched through the viewfinder as the water parted.

There it was. Emerging from the marshy depths was a magnificent creature measuring easily thirty-five feet in length. The video captures its features with terrifying clarity. It possessed the classic, unmistakable horse-like head described by witnesses for over a century, set upon a long, muscular, serpentine neck that arched effortlessly out of the water. As it moved, its body formed a series of distinct vertical undulations—mammalian humps that rose and fell through the surface rather than the horizontal slithering motion of a reptile.

The most breathtaking segment of the footage occurs when the creature turns directly toward my lens. For a brief three seconds, the camera captures its large, dark, intelligent eyes blinking against the morning light. You can clearly see the faint, coarse whiskers lining its upper jaw and the pair of powerful anterior flippers cutting through the brackish water. It was a flawless, undeniable match to the historic Naden Harbour carcass photographs from 1937, but vibrantly, unmistakably alive.

After forty years of carrying a heavy burden of doubt, holding this footage feels like a profound vindication. This video is no grainy, brief glimpse or ambiguous shadow. It is a clear, definitive look at a living relic of the Pacific Northwest. By sharing this tape with global marine biologists and cryptozoologists, I hope we can finally pivot from asking if Cadborosaurus exists, to learning how to protect it. Caddy is real, it is spectacular, and it is swimming right beneath our feet.