"The Preachers Gone Fishing" - Preamble To A Haunted Muskoka Lodge

 

Vintage Pictures, circa 1970, Watt Township

"THE PREACHER'S GONE FISHING," THE STORY OF AN ANGLER, AND A HAUNTED MUSKOKA LODGE, "THE PREAMBLE"

     There it is again! Unsettling the peace and quiet of a woodland hike. The clear rustling, of last autumn's leaves, as if purposely kicked-up by a determined, brisk walk, brushing heavily through the dry leaves just behind you, on the well trodden pathway. When you look back, there is nothing visible that could be responsible, for making such an intrusive, unsettling sound. No squirrel, chipmunk, or prevailing wind gust, that could create the cadence of footsteps, as if someone else was walking immediately behind, trying to catch-up. But who could it be? Your imagination is playing tricks on you. Right?  Or, as reality bordering strange fiction, was it the ghost of someone who had walked these same woods, at this same time of day, many times during their years of living nearby? After departing this mortal coil, is it possible the walks of life, have continued as a quality of the afterlife?

     The rapping on the back door? Now that was a mystery. Three times, the knocking got you out of your chair, to answer the door, and each time, there was nothing on the verandah except the Easter decorations, and the spring season wreath suspended on the door. Maybe the wind was rattling the adornment, mounted high on the entrance, causing it to manifest a knocking sound. But there was no detectable wind. And certainly no one standing at the door.

     Then there was the curiously out-of-place child, wearing a long white dress, visibly brushing against the still muddy ground, witnessed on a countryside stroll, you took that early spring evening. She could be seen running alongside the half fallen cemetery fence, of the old neighborhood. It seemed, at first glance, the young girl was looking for an opening in the rickety barrier, to get into the graveyard. How and why did the little girl simply vanish, as you approached to offer some assistance, to what appeared a fretful circumstance. You ponder that it must have been a unique play of light and shadow, blending at that time of night; or simply a figment of an over-active imagination.

     Think back, for a moment. Have you ever had a strange experience, you initially thought, shortly there-after, reminded you of something your mother, grandmother, great uncle, or cousin seven times removed, might have spun for you, in story-form, from adult to child, that had something to do with superstition, ghosts, or, if they were from the old country, hobgoblins?

     Might you have, some time in your life, awoken in the middle of a stormy night, to see someone standing in your doorway, or even sitting on the end of your bed, which vanished in the blink of a sleepy eye? And if you asked a parent or grandparent, in the morning, which one of them had paid you a wee hours visit, the answer was most likely, as tradition usually dictates, that none of them had been wandering about the abode, at that time of the early morning, to account for the visitation. Might the twinkle of an oldtimer's eye, you detect, cause you to wonder then, if this individual knew more than they were letting on, about what may have occurred, even to them, in their own bedrooms, of the same dwelling place? Or were they just playing a trick on you?

     Have you heard steps coming up, or down the main staircase of your residence, when no one else was at home; or detected the sound of a footfall in the room directly above, while knowing there was no one else but you at home? Ever wonder why you feel some entity is watching you, when entering the basement of a residence or business, and then feel, when climbing back up, the urgent sensation to race up the stairs, as something is coming quickly from behind; that might suddenly and painfully grab you ankle, and pull you back down to suffer untold horrors? Have you heard someone call your name when no one has been in the vicinity, or felt what seemed like a firm hand grip on your shoulder, or pat you on the back, when all alone; or walking along a path where your family hiked routinely over several generations? The friendly spirits of kinfolk? Who really knows?

     Most of us, being honest about such events, and our perception of them, have to admit, however pensive we are about making such a confessional public, feeling unsettled by the incursion, as subtle as it may have been, at the very moment of connection; experiencing curious sensory perception, with what couldn't be easily explained, or pinpointed, to the handywork of an indvidual, possibly playing a practical joke on the unsuspecting "you". It isn't odd in any way, to have had such an experience, that presented no logical reason for occurring; and yet, it would be irrational if not entirely silly, to decide immediately, that it must have been the outreach of the paranormal. There is much in life that can not be explained, and many incidents that we become involved, by the happenstance of living day to day, that defy simple earthly explanation. Yet we can not say that it was the intrusion of those who have crossed over, trying to get a message to the living. While I might believe many of my parallel situations, of strange liaisons with entities unknown, are indeed messages from beyond, it is something that pacifies my interests; but is not something I advocate for, as a hobby medium, of which I am no such thing. I am always interested in stories with paranormal attachments, whether it involves the sighting of a ghost, or strange light in the window of a vacant house; or a spiritual quality that hums in the low light of early spring nights, with no one visible. It is something of a curiosity, that will always, as a matter of irony, haunt us; being this possibility of wayward spirits that can communicate with the living.

     We are, in our own way, responsive to suggestion. We may denounce the belief in ghosts, when confronted by a staunch believer, yet admit in confidence to our family, having seen the ghosts of grandparents sitting in the yard, where they were most familiar on long summer nights. It is no shame to admit one has doubts. This is the foundation of the series of stories in this twelve chapter series, written specially for "Currie's Antiques," and this facebook page, administered by my business partner, and bride of many years, Suzanne. All our family members, have, at one time or another, come face to face with what experts would call the paranormal. We have not be frightened by them, as much as amazed; and exceedingly thoughtful about what the meeting might have meant to all parties. The series of stories, about a Preacher / Angler, of the Victorian era, staying at a Muskoka lodge of that period, is more about the power of suggestion, and what beliefs were passed down through the generations, to our main character, than about ghosts and hobgoblins in their traditional paranormal attire. These are just stories, in honor of our beautiful district of Ontario, and the respites that have flourished in what many have called "God's Country." We want to prove our loyalty to Muskoka, and show that it is, for us, not only a great home region, but the territory that has nurtured our family, from the earliest years of homesteading, when the Shea settlers erected their first humble shelters, dating as far back as 1862, in Watt Township, now in the present Township of Muskoka Lakes. It is a truly Muskoka story, and we want you to be part of it. 

     Set your imagination free, and allow us, as historians and story spinners, to take you back in time, to a wonderfully rustic pioneer lodge on Lake Rosseau, to meet the Preacher / Angler. It is not a story to shock you, but rather a tale from antiquity, to hopefully to entertain.