Ghost Ships of the Bayou

  Just the mere mention of living on the Bayou conjures a lot of fantastical ideas in some folks brains...mine included.  Visions of ghost ships, lost sailors and mystical creatures seem to be the norm. I suppose that is why I choose this life over any other.  Here, I can let my imagination run amok and there is no one to complain.  My freedom to dwell in the marvelous land of make-believe is something I cherish.  With the world on the brink of a huge social meltdown, I retreat into my own little world where things are much different.  

  This morning, my predawn hike led me to the pier as usual.  There was not much use traipsing about the woods, creek bed or marsh as a heavy fog laden the area making it difficult to see.  On the pier, it was much the same.  I could not see the far shore nor even my brother's pier which was just a little more than a hundred or so feet from ours.  I could hear my surroundings, though.  On that far shore, an eagle did its "rusty wheel" call while behind me in the marsh otters squabbled over a catch of mullet. Occasionally, a dog would bark or a mullet would splash.  There was also some odd soft clanging out over the water.  Other than that, all was still.  It was surreal, ghostly, almost mystical.  As the sun tried to brighten the eastern sky, things lightened but did not become clear.

    Off in the distance, I could make out the dark shape of the ghost ship.  It sat silently on the still waters...stranded in the shallows with not a breath of a wind to set it in motion.  It hovered like some huge entity waiting for its next victim.  Eerily the anchor chain clanked as the ship shifted. That was the source of the noise I had heard earlier. This muted clanking was enough to send shivers up the spine as I knew there was nary a living soul on board.  Had the spirits of a lost captain and crew returned to the ghost ship?  Had they come to claim lost treasure or take captives for ransom?   The sea will never tell nor will the fog.  

  Well, a least it was a nice sized boat...maybe not a ghost pirate ship but a nice sized boat.  This boat has been moored out in the middle of the Bay since Hurricane Nate made his appearance.   In the dense fog, the boat may have well been some ghost pirate ship.  It is funny how white-out fog can change one's whole perspective of things.  Back when I was a youngster fishing with Pop, he would tell me to always "Watch the shore." when there was a pea-soup fog.  In our little wooden skiff, had we just ventured out willy-nilly, we took a big chance of being overrun by large boats in the channel.  Watching the shoreline kept us safely out of harm's way.  The fog this morning got the wheels of imagination turning and brought back a lot of memories of old times.  Ghost ships coming to the Bayou!  Perhaps, this should be the storyline for the next Clue Hunt on the Bayou!  One never knows where inspiration will hit.