Last night there were five of us..dressed in jeans and sneakers...on our bikes...on a typical full moon ghost hunt. It was midight. I felt a little bit like a teen agers on a snipe hunt. Of cours, we knew we wouldn't see the headless pirate Blackbeard walking on Springer's Point...but just in case, Philip carried a stick. He said it was to brush away the cobwebs on the pathway, but you can't fool me.
The moon had not quite risen as we stowed our bikes by the fence and followed the narrow pathway into the woods down to the water. It was a fairly long hike (well, at midnight, hikes seem longer)..passing the grave of Sam Jones and his horse..they say there are other graves there, but they are unmarked..victims of shipwrecks. Occasionally my foot would catch on a root or a limb would brush across my face. Single file we walked. The view was breathtaking as we reached the sound side of the island...the lighthouse in the distance, the moon hovering over the woods, we huddled together..sharing stories, filling our souls up with the beauty of the night..expecting a fleet of pirate ships to round the corner, come to shore, roll out the kegs of rum, and celebrate the full moon with us.
We walked back with moonlight on the pathway. We never did see any ghosts...but did they see us?