"Lord, what fools these mortals be"
So saith Shakespeare's Puck and who am I to disagree. Take this thing we call Halloween. Isn't it foolish to have a day devoted to trying to scare ourselves silly? Normally, fear isn't an emotion that a rational person aspires to. Unless, perhaps, it's a 'staged' fright, a kind of vicarious experience of danger with a small 'd' and no real consequence. Meaning none of us will be going to Gaza or Ukraine this October 31. Besides, we have an upcoming election that should be scary enough for anyone who cares about the future of our country.
Still, as one of those 'mortal fools' I have to say that I like this annual celebration of the spooky. I look for some experience with chill potential every Halloween season and this year's search brought me to Ghost Hollow.
For those unfamiliar with Ghost Hollow, it is in the Vermont town of West Haven just across the Poultney River from Hampton in northern Washington County. It's a lonely swatch of fields and forest with a dirt road running up thru it. And it has a story to tell.
Many years ago a young man working in the fields received word that his wife was in labor. Filled with anxiety, he hurried along the moonlit road to be with her. Then, up ahead, he saw a glowing apparition. It was his wife! But what was she doing out here when she was supposed to be giving birth and why did she disappear as he approached?
The sad answer came when he reached their cabin only to find that his wife had died in childbirth and he knew her spirit had met him on the road to say "Goodbye". Since that awful night over two hundred years ago, legend has it that the ghostly white figure of a woman is sometimes seen wandering thru the darkness of the Hollow.
If you were in the Hollow a few days ago you would have seen another wandering figure. That would have been me. Connecting an eerie story to the place where it happened is my kind of thing. And the landscape here ... well, it seems fertile ground for 'eerie'. The rock where Israel Putnam ambushed and slaughtered a party of French and Indians in 1757 is just down the road. Their bones may still lie in the mud of East Bay and what of their departed spirits? This is also Bigfoot's stomping grounds with Abair Road, scene of past sightings, not far away. Following the pot-holed road that creeps beside the river brings you to rattlesnake country on the old Galick Farm. It's easy to imagine the ghost of snake killing Bill Galick, pistol on his hip, appearing out of the gloom. Or how about the William Miller Homestead that I'd be driving by on the way home? Who knows? maybe I'ld see the old prophet up on the roof of his house still waiting for the second coming.
These are the thoughts that come to you when you are alone in the night, far from light and warmth and anything familiar. What about that woman interred beneath the bar at Whitehall's Skene Manor, the one who feared being buried underground? Or 'Kathi' up on Death Rock above South Bay? Another tortured soul. And the inmates buried in that little cemetery on Quarry Road. Men who came to the end of their lost lives in a Great Meadow Prison cell and were put beneath the ground with little more than a small numbered stone to mark their final passage?
Back in Ghost Hollow, with nothing but my mind's wanderings for company, I waited. And watched. The sky mirrored my mood. There was a full moon but it was flitting in and out of dark clouds. At times things would brighten, bringing the road and confining hills into view. A moment later all was blackness. Only to the west was there some clear sky and a hint of left over daylight thru the trees. The Hollow's namesake was in hiding. No wandering woman to be seen.
Until ... up in the sky! Up above the dim horizon. Something was there. But what? A soft glow, a little patch of shimmer. Could it be Her? Part of me wanted to believe. But the logical side (yes, I do have a logical side) said "No. What you're seeing is that comet everyone has been talking about." Nothing but a dirty snowball slingshotting around the Sun. And, no doubt, that was the correct scientific explanation. But who's to say She couldn't come back disguised as a visitor from the Oort Cloud? Who really knows what forms a soul may take as it wanders the sky for eternities? This then is what Ghost Hollow gave me: a memorable night, a little fright and a lot to think about.
And:
Should you find yourself in West Haven, look for this small cemetery on Main Road. Not scary at all. Just a peaceful, lovely spot. I could easily spend days in town biking, hiking and exploring before swinging by The Wheel Inn (my favorite bar and restaurant) for refreshments. So many places, so little time.
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