`La monstre du lac? Elle est formidable!" The speaker is Franc. And he's here for some seasonal disappointment. The Nessie seduction rite is as old as it's irresistible. From late spring to early autumn the flood of tourists becomes a stream of goggle-eyed predators humping zoom lenses, swinging cameras in the direction of anything twitching, bobbing or splashing across the dark waters of Britain's deepest inland loch.
Long restored from winter doldrums, the countless emporia and knick-knack stores in the towns of Drumnadrochit and Fort Augustus blow last year's dust from their piles of tartaned-up wee beasties, and polish window panes to a gleam of anticipation. Prepare for sightings. When I met Franc, just beyond the village of Lochend, he was taking snapshots of drifting logs. Nessie would surely not disappoint?
Bob Hunter-Dorans at the Inverness tourist information shop, says that summer is the hottest time for sightings. Does he believe? "Well, it might be a sturgeon," says Bob, looking thoughtful. "They're quite scaly in appearance." And maybe big enough when arcing through the waves to make you think twice? Bob once saw a pole shoot out of the water, surrounded by dolphins, near the mouth of the River Ness. "Out and in, four feet in length, then it happened again." Bob's baffled still.
The hoo-ha started back in 1933, says Gordon Williamson, a local marine biologist, and observer of the loch over many years. A Nessieologist he's not. He tells me the sighting 66 years ago proves nothing: "The commotion in the middle of the loch might have been a whale!" But the Daily Mail made an even bigger splash with the story, and Nessie was born. Gordon insists: "Whatever you see out there becomes quickly identifiable - once you look at it through binoculars." Disappointment guaranteed?
Thus, disappointed to discover their curiosity unrequited by a monster that's taken the hump, the visiting crowds head towards the Official Loch Ness Monster Exhibition at Drumnadrochit, where video footage of curious, shadowy phenomena, plus testaments by unimpeachable witnesses to the monster's previous photocalls are on hand to encourage vigilance during the rest of the Loch Ness foray.
I took Gordon Williamson's Loch Ness minibus tour, a fascinating day-long extravaganza, including stops to hike up a hillside and overlook the spectacular vista of troubled waters, later picnicking in the woods, and getting the low-down (with my Japanese and Australian fellow travellers) on the history of the loch, tales of marauding, subversive exploits by some 15th century highlanders - plus footnotes on flora and fauna, and Gordon's theory about Nessie's mischievous origins.
Sceptics like Gordon are offset by daydream believers and romantics whose hopes are buoyed up by occasional photographs, like the award-winning picture of Nessie taken in 1997 by Richard White near Castle Urquhart. Now, the spot where Nessie appeared is under 24-hour surveillance. Installed by a Nessie-hunting Finn, Mikko Takala, four video cameras are trained like beady eyes on Urquhart Bay. The cameras' live images are signalled to the nearby exhibition centre, and fed to the worldwide web.
The president of the Official Loch Ness Monster Fan Club, Gary Campbell, was reportedly delighted. "This is a major breakthrough for Nessie fans worldwide. Most of our members are overseas, and this will allow them to visit the website and look for Nessie. If they spot something out there on the water, they can grab a picture from their screens."
For bravehearts, however, the way to hunt Nessie is on the loch. You can hire a cabin cruiser, or brave it en masse, as I did - "a monster day out" (so the blurb proclaims), aboard the cruise boat Jacobite Queen. There are those who sail on the Royal Scot, which features "the largest cruise boat sonar on Loch Ness". But aboard the JQ we relied on our eyes and intuition as we forged through the inky waves between the sheer hillsides that hem in the 30 miles of water.
From the deck you achieve a proper appreciation of the 360 degrees of magnificent lochscape, something impossible from the perspective of the road that ribbons the shore. Inside the passenger lounge the rocking of the boat had taken its toll. A baby was burbling in its sleep. Half-finished drinks remained abandoned. A Daily Record slid from the grip of a dozing pensioner.
On deck, the wind was discouraging; I went searching for someone to talk to. Near the wheelhouse two women were hunkering. "Where's the monster centre?" asked one. "It's over there." Her companion pointed towards Drumnadrochit. "How much do they charge you to see the monster?"
A few of the passengers disembarked at Urquhart castle, a gaunt, atmospheric sandstone ruin. Later they'd make it to Drumnadrochit, the exhibition and the shops. Among the monster memorabilia for sale are little pokes of "Nessie droppings" covered in chocolate - the only thing about Nessie that's easily swallowed. Beside the shops a big plastic plesiosaur is floating on a pond, the perfect backdrop for souvenir photos of Uncle Kashuo or Auntie Dot.
Meanwhile, the secret of the loch is keeping its head down. Deaf to the music of ringing cash registers. Biding its time . . .