Editorially speaking…
Not even a drizzling rain could keep the ghoulies away from Victoria’s Ross Bay Cemetery last Sunday.
It was October’s Ghost Tour by the Old Cemeteries Society, an annual event that draws so many visitors the tour has had to be broken up into 10 teams of 20-odd people each instead of the usual single group of, say, 20-40. Each stop is given five minutes with an enthusiastic volunteer storyteller, then a klaxon horn sounds and onto the next grave of interest.
What would Halloween be without good a ghost story? And if they really do exist, there surely must be some resident in Ross Bay.
Here OCS founder John Adams is telling his group about ghostly encounters by other cemetery visitors in years gone by.
The previous owner of my house, which has had more than a dozen owners over the decades, including one who died young and tragically, was convinced there was a “presence” in the back hallway. Perhaps luckily for me, I don’t seem to be sensitive to the vibes of spirits, and I’ve never been disturbed by anything even remotely spiritual that I’m aware of.
As close as I may have come occurred during a so-called “ghost buster” visit to Hatley Castle, Colwood, formerly the castle-manse of coal baron James Dunsmuir, now home to Royal Roads University.
In the early hours of the morning, we were all seated about James’s billiards room. The group leaders were armed with a tape recorder; after setting it on the floor, they turned the recorder on and the lights off, urged us all to complete silence, then began the “seance” by introducing us to any spirits present..
“Hello.”
“Hello, is anyone here? Don’t be afraid, we’re friends.”
“Hello?”
They repeated these salutations for a minute or so, the same greetings, over and over. Then followed five minutes of silence as everyone, I’m sure, listened intently, until on came the lights, a rewinding of the tape and, again, silence as we all craned to hear any message.
On came the voice of the group leader. “Hello. Hello, is anyone here? We’re friends, is anyone here?”
Several repetitions were followed by a brief silence, just the faint sound of the tape reel turning and of someone trying to open a candy wrapper without being heard.
Then—in answer to another, “Is anyone here?” came a clearly distinct male voice, a voice obviously irritated: “I told you, I’m here.” That was it.
Did we imagine it? Hardly. Was one of us playing games? Possibly. But that voice, whoever it was, sure capped the ghost event on a high note.
* * * * *