Unfortunately, he is no longer with us, but that’s no reason not to recognize his 100th day of birth. On April 18, 2002, Thor Heyerdahl, 87, the adventurous Norwegian anthropologist, world-traveler, explorer, filmmaker, and author died of cancer in Italy, after a long illness.

Cryptozoologically, Heyerdahl made several cryptid observations throughout his life and maintained an interest in the field.

For example, Heyerdahl had an intriguing encounter while on his honeymoon in 1937, when he sighted an unidentified mysterious wingless bird on the South Pacific island of Hiva-Oa, which he relates in his 1974 book Fatu-Hiva, Back to Nature. In 1980, cryptozoologist Michel Raynal interviewed Heyerdahl about the incident, reconfirming the significance of the sighting.

In April 28, 1947, Heyerdahl set sail from the Peruvian coast in the 45-foot balsa wood boat, Kon-Tiki. Taking 101 days and 4,300 miles, the project demonstrated that voyages across the oceans were a possibility, proving his theory that Polynesia was populated from South America, and not southeast Asia as previously assumed. During the journey, Heyerdahl saw, near the Kon Tiki raft, strange phosphorescent animals and other extremely large unknown creatures in the middle of the night that have never been identified.

Later treks and theories would take him from Polynesia and Easter Island to the Tigris, the Indus Valley, Africa, and the Canary Islands.

Born in Larvik, on October 6, 1914, Heyerdahl was a national hero in his homeland, and was named Norway’s Man of the Century in 1999.

Heyerdahl’s unique unorthodox approach to challenging mainstream anthropological theory produced many popular books, well-attended lectures, and celebrated documentary films, including the 1951 Oscar-winning Kon-Tiki.

Several times, when the sea was calm, the black water round the raft was suddenly full of round heads two or three feet in diameter, lying motionless and staring at us with great glowing eyes. On other nights balls of light three feet and more in diameter would be visible down in the water, flashing at irregular intervals like electric lights turned on for a moment.

We gradually grew accustomed to having these subterranean or submarine creatures under the floor, but nevertheless we were just as surprised every time a new species appeared. About two o’clock on a cloudy night, when the man at the helm had difficulty in distinguishing black water from black sky, he caught sight of a faint illumination down in the water which slowly took the shape of a large animal. It was impossible to say whether it was plankton shining on its body or whether the animal itself had a phosphorescent surface, but the glimmer down in the black water gave the ghostly creature obscure, wavering outlines. Sometimes it was roundish, sometimes oval, or triangular, and suddenly it split into two parts which swam to and fro under the raft independently of each other. Finally there were three of these large shining phantoms wandering round in slow circles under us.

They were real monsters, for the visible parts alone were some five fathoms long, and we all quickly collected on deck and followed the ghost dance. It went on for hour after hour, following the course of the raft. Mysterious and noiseless, our shining companions kept a good way beneath the surface, mostly on the starboard side where the light was, but often they were right under the raft or appeared on the port side. The glimmer of light on their backs revealed that the beasts were bigger than elephants, but they were not whales, for they never came up to breathe. Were they giant ray fish which changed shape when they turned over on their sides? They took no notice at all if we held the light right down on the surface to lure them up so that we might see what kind of creatures they were. And, like all proper goblins and ghosts, they had sunk into the depths when the dawn began to break.

We never got a proper explanation of this nocturnal visit from the three shining monsters, unless the solution was afforded by another visit we received a day and a half later in the full midday sunshine. It was May 24, and we were lying drifting on a leisurely swell in exactly 95°west by 7° south, (p. 90-91).

On several occasions we glided past a large dark mass, the size of the floor of a room, that lay motionless under the surface of the water like a hidden reef. It was presumably the giant ray of evil repute, but it never moved, and we never went close enough to make out its shape clearly, (p. 120)

See more on

The International Cryptozoology Museum Journal

Wish to donate to assist the research and writing of this blog?

Please donate by simply clicking on the following button to give $5, $10, $50, $100, or whatever you can send. Thank you.