I’ve been working hard to catch up on a deadline and haven’t been able to craft a good post for this week. I looked back in my notes and found this old article from last summer’s June 25th edition of the Corsair’s Cove Courier. I hope it fills the bill, and trust I’ll be back on track next week!
The Cove’s Hidden Industry: Fact or Hoax
Corsair’s Cove has history. All places do, but most history has the good manners to finish up and move on in an orderly fashion. In the Cove, the past tends to hang around to check out the new kids.
This happens in a number of ways. There are the families, of course. You can find names that go back generations—just ask Kate Trelawney, the Cove’s resident history buff. She knows where the bodies are buried, quite literally.
Then there are the buildings. Looking ahead sometimes means looking backward, and people aren’t so quick to tear things down when a good piece of the town’s revenue comes from tourism.
And then there are the pieces of history that like to put their feet up at the Zephyr’s Rest and think about the good old days. No, I’m not talking about the lawn bowling club and the time Elvis passed through the Cove—the poor boy must have been lost. I mean the folks from the 1870s, or the 1930s, or the 1850s, if you like the Wolf of the West and his cronies. We’re talking about the ghosts. You can’t swing a Ouija board in the place without someone spelling out a reply.
According to industry experts writing for Mediums at Large, a peer-reviewed journal for the psychically gifted, Corsair’s Cove is the most haunted location in the Pacific Northwest. In fact, there are more specters per capita than most major historical centers in Europe. The town supports a variety of paranormal tourism start-ups, including Ghostcapades Walking Tours and a veritable roster of tea-leaf readers and table rapping experts in the back of Belle’s Books and Candles.
Of course, there is natural skepticism as to whether these phenomena actually exist or whether they have been manufactured to assist the thriving tourist trade. Local farmer Henry Fitzgibbet invites such detractors to spend the night in his guest house. The 1880s cottage overlooks the site of the Cove’s old lighthouse. He doesn’t say what guests are expected to witness there, but he’ll pay $200 to anyone who can spend the hours between midnight and 6:00 a.m. without setting foot outside the door. When asked if anyone has succeeded, Fitzgibbon merely chuckles.
Perhaps that response speaks for itself. This humble reporter declines to take that bet.