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ghost story - Chesapeake Light Tackle

ghost story

Currently browsing articles with a topic of "ghost story".

The night was as dark as a tomb and I was wet and cold. I felt lucky to be alive and I couldn’t believe my good fortune in finding a tattered blanket in this rusted ship’s hold. I pulled it higher over my shoulders and dozed.

We shouldn’t have tried to fish today. The weather forecast called for building winds, but we thought we could get out for a few hours to catch some of the big stripers that always migrate into the Chesapeake Bay in late October. The blow arrived soon after we launched into the Honga River from the Hoopersville ramp. By the time we rounded Nancy’s Point into the main stem of the Bay, we were well into the teeth of a full northwestern gale. We decided to call it off, but just as my friend Phil turned his center console back east toward the river, a rogue wave hit us broadside. The boat rolled hard and I went overboard. Read More!


Late October rewards the Chesapeake for the misery of August. While just breathing outside is a difficult task in the humid summer months, come October, cool breezes blow across the Bay through the lush green ferns that drip from the wrought iron balconies of the antebellum plantations near Romancoke at the far southern tip of Kent Island. They call it The Land of Pleasant Living.

I drove down Route 18 past the Romancoke Fire Station before turning between two ancient brick pillars then down a long, oak-lined gravel driveway. I got out of my car and walked up to the porch of the ancient stone mansion.

“They don’t advertise,” my friend advised, “you just have to know about it. It’s one of the nicest Bed & Breakfast Inns on the East Coast.”

I was tired because I had made the long drive from Tennessee early that morning. With a job opportunity in Washington DC, I was considering relocating to the Mid-Atlantic and I had spent most of the day looking for a place to live.

I stood beneath the ferns and looked up toward the slate-shingled roof. Something caught my eye up there, perhaps the quick movement of a bird. A dark feather spiraled down toward me. Once it hit the ground, I leaned over and picked it up – a pigeon maybe? No, it was more likely from the wing of a crow or a blackbird. I made my way up to the front door of the house. Read More!

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