Ghost Hollow

 

"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.

The road used to have an ordinary sign but it was stolen so often

that the town painted this boulder in its stead

     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.

Ghost Hollow Road

     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?

Any 'body' home? Skene Manor

     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.  

Web image

      

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.

  

Gone and (Almost) Forgotten

 

     Let us now praise canoes. Clean, quiet, affordable. Even New York State government hasn't found a way to tax or regulate them (although I'm sure somewhere in the dark heart of Albany someone is trying). In the water dappled world where I live they are a near perfect way to explore place. And this summer I've even used my Old Town Pack as a way to travel thru time. All it takes is a little imagination and a paddle. Let me explain.

     Besides being on the water, another of my favorite pastimes is browsing used bookstores. I always have a stack of old finds waiting to be read and recently I got to An Introduction to Hudson Valley Prehistory by William Ritchie. It's a January 1958 bulletin of the New York State Museum and Science Service describing excavations at seven sites once occupied by Native Americans. The fact that two of these sites were adjacent to places I like to paddle caught my attention and lead to a couple of revelatory outings. Both sites are on private property and should not be trespassed but you can view them from the water like I did.

     Gwenne and I like to float lazily along the shore of the Hudson admiring moss covered shale ledges, clay banks sprinkled with wildflowers and the occasional eagle perched overhead. On one trip this year we lingered under a knoll where a small stream trickled over rocks before flowing into the river. It's an enchanting spot, even more so when you know that the top of the little bluff is where, in 1951, archaeologists investigated the site of Native American activity. They recovered 620 artifacts from several test pits, concluding that a small seasonal camp had been located here over a long period of time (early Archaic to Middle Woodland). Apparently, even back then, waterfront with a view was highly prized.

 

     Under the influence of warm sunshine, a gently rocking boat and advancing age my eyelids grew heavy and my thoughts traveled back thru millennia to a time when I might have been fishing for shad to feed my small family clan back at the camp. Has anything really changed? The need for food, shelter and a safe place to raise kids? Then I dreamt I heard the tribe calling from shore. Awakened from my reverie, I realized it was the landowners talking as they did some yard work. We chatted a bit about swimming here when we were kids, about the many years since our school days and about the archaeological dig. Then it was time to leave my prehistory sojourn behind and paddle back to a present of equipment that needed fixing and bills that needed paying.

     Surprisingly, I got to repeat the experience a few weeks later. That speaks to the ubiquitousness of Native American settlements in the Hudson Valley. This time Tom, Holly and I paddled our way up a tributary of the river to a point where the stream looped around an elevated, wooded peninsula. The shoreline was attractive but otherwise unremarkable. At least until you know that this too had been the site of an encampment many thousands of years ago. Evidence comes from excavations done by the amateur archaeologist landowners back in the '50's. 

     Several factors made the spot appealing to early people. The ease of travel by water and the abundance of food sources was obvious. We saw flocks of waterfowl and signs of beaver and muskrat activity. That and I remember fishing for bullheads on this stream when I was a kid. Other factors that made it a good place to live were its dry sandy soil and a clearwater spring nearby.

The springs outlet?

This way to the Hudson

     Once again the magic of amorphous time took hold as I slipped along the shore. The quiet, the undisturbed banks with towering hickory and white oak...it could have been anytime in the last 10,000 years. Looking down in the shallow water a small shard of rock caught my attention. Probably just a piece of broken shale but shaped such that...could it be? I scooped up the 'maybe' arrowhead as a memento of my time travel and have it on my desk as I write. A small reminder that there were people here before us and there will be people here when we're gone. 

 

           

     And because Holly's phone takes better pics than my camera here's an album of her images: