Do You Believe in Ghosts?

Do you believe in ghosts?

 

With the ghostly element of my new book, HAUNTED HEART, coming out soon, I thought this might be appropriate.

Remember the advertisement for one of my favorite movies, "Ghost"? I've thought of that often, but until this experience I'm not sure I believed, despite the promise of the ad.

But when my daughter was a teen, we took in a French exchange student and it was absolutely one of the best things we’d done! Hortense was beautiful, smart as hell, very down to earth and a LOT of fun. As teens do, the number of French exchange students multiplied and we ended up with three more exchange students staying with us at least most of the summer.

We decided to take them all camping at Yosemite. I’d never been there and looked forward to a break from the California beaches, which are a bit crazy during the summer. But I worked as an Air Traffic Controller on a schedule they call “the rattler”, because it definitely leaves you rattled! In this schedule I typically didn’t have time to sleep between the early morning shift and the midnight shift that evening. And I very often had a consulting job or ice skating competition for my daughter the next morning. So staying awake and alert for 36 hours was something I had trained myself to do and thankfully haven’t done in years now.

This particular weekend was no exception. There were preparations to be made for camping. But I’d camped quite a lot in the mountains. I knew it would be comfortable, if not a bit cool at night.

After my midnight shift, we loaded all five of us into my Mazda MPV and headed out for our adventure. When we drove over Gorman pass to Bakersfield, my new car overheated and we had to stop for ten minutes several times. It was hot in the Central Valley. Of course, it was July!  But summer heat had been lost on me in that I lived on the coast and air conditioning consisted of opening my windows a bit wider and when it was extreme heat, I’d turn on an electric fan.

The kids had discovered a new American band and had asked to put in a C.D. They all sang the words aloud in broken English (except for my daughter) and within minutes I ascertained that none of them—not even my daughter—realized the words they were saying—thank God!. I fought back a blush and pushed eject on the stereo. We loaded a Latin music C.D. and everyone seemed to be enjoying it. Although I admit it may have been just as obscene.

We’d gotten a late start out of Yosemite, and with the numerous stops, it was after two am when we began our descent to the Yosemite Valley floor. The kids were all asleep and at that point, other than a brief nap, I had been awake for over 36 hours. NOTE: I cringe when I see that now. But back then, I was quite used to working and carrying on for days before sleeping.

Driving into the valley was extraordinary and I was re-invigorated. I could sense the spirituality of the place—something I had never experienced anyplace before. And I could feel the greatness of the monoliths that surrounded us. Their presence was sharply carved out of the brilliant star-filled sky.

The kids had left on the Latin music, and suddenly, I thought I could understood the words to the music.

We arrived at our campsite at 3am and set up camp. Our camp area was called “Housekeeping” and it consisted of three cement walls and a curtain. Outside of the curtain was a picnic table, and a fence that enclosed our camp and provided privacy. We closed the curtain with the girls inside on the beds, and the boys outside on the private porch and all fell into a deep slumber.

After my days without sleep, I usually made up for it when I did crash. But this time I woke unusually early to the sounds of camp—always pleasing sounds and smells: coffee and bacon, pancakes and eggs frying and the smell of fresh pines. I looked out at the gap in the curtain, it was a bit more open than we’d left it.

I remember quite vividly thinking, “We need to get the kids up so we can hike now. It’s going to get hot later.”  I glanced at my watch. It was 7am.  We’d slept only 4 hours. I argued with myself and couldn’t imagine why I thought it would get hot. After all, we were in the mountains. It doesn’t get hot in the mountains!

Sensibility won out and I went back to sleep for another three hours. When I did wake, the kids had already started breakfast and I was grateful. Yosemite was breathtaking and I couldn’t wait to get on the trail.

As we ate, Hortense asked me, “Who was that man?”

I asked, “What man?”

“The man you were speaking to this morning?”

I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. I hadn’t spoken to anyone.

Hortense was not to be put off. “The man that said we had to get up to go hiking because it was going to get hot outside.”

A chill ran down my spine. I knew exactly what she was talking about, but it had most certainly not been a verbal discussion! I had opened my eyes and been fully awake. Still there had been almost an argument about the question of heat in the mountains.

Finally I said, “Hortense, there was no one there. I didn’t speak to anyone.”

She said, “Yes. It was the old cowboy, with the long gray beard.”

“Old cowboy?”

“Yes. And he spoke to you in Spanish.”

At this, I sat in stunned silence.

 

Several hours later we made the very rugged hike to the top of Yosemite Falls. And I discovered that it did in fact get hot in these mountains! I carried a gallon of water and by the time we got to the top, the water was gone. It hit over a hundred on the trail and the climb down was rough without water..

A few days later we walked through Yosemite lodge. There was a picture of John Muir and his team. There, next to Muir was a Hispanic looking old cowboy with a long gray beard and something about him was definitely familiar to me. I turned to Hortense and her eyes were wide as she nodded. It was him.

 

Nothing else happened the rest of our time. No floating items, no secret messages, no signs at all that there had been a visitor who had somehow worked his way past the boys cots and opened our curtain to warn us. Still, I will always remember the ghost I never saw. But yes, I believe. Do you?