One of Grandma’s Ghost Stories
A little background. My maternal grandfather grew up on the very west coast of Vancouver Island (British Columbia, Canada) on what is now a world-famous hiking trail called the West Coast Trail. My great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents were instrumental in building the trail. Once called the life-saving trail, it was created to access shipwrecks and rescue survivors. The story below is written by my grandmother (now passed) about her husband’s mother (my great grandmother.) This was one of my first introductions to the world of spirit as a child.
Ghost Stories on the West Coast Trail
It was in the summer of ‘76, shortly after Gramma passed away. Dad, Sherry, Mary Lynn, Brindle (dog), and I headed down the lake to go over to Stanley Beach. I wanted to get a very small pair of caulk boots belonging to Gramma that she used on her trapline.
For those of you who never knew Brindle, I want to fill you in. A great dog who had one very strange feature: her way of greeting family was to pick up something in her teeth, then whine and wiggle her hind end until someone could calm her down. She and Gramma had a great understanding of each other. Actually, Brindle was the only dog allowed in her living room in Gramma’s later years.
Brindle standing in the water at Nitinat Lake.
Grandma and Brindle circa 1976.
Once down the lake, Sherry and Mary Lynn changed plans and decided they would hike to Tsusiat Falls. So, we reluctantly dropped them off on that side of the lake. Then Dad, Brindle, and I continued over the trail to Stanley Beach. We went down the path in front of Aunty Chad’s house to the shore. We travelled around the flat rocks, and then Dad decided it would be too painful to enter the house at that time. So, I went in, retrieved the boots, and we went back up to the trail and continued to the Cheewhat River to visit Mrs. Ordeway.
During our tea with Mrs. Ordeway, she explained how, on the day that Maggie (Gramma) died, Jim (Mrs. Ordeway’s son) encountered two hikers on the trail, young girls, who were both very excited and distressed. They explained that they had seen a very small (Gramma was 4’10), older lady in a cotton housedress down at the abandoned house and that the lady ran away when they spotted her. Jim said that was impossible as no one had lived there since the early ‘40s. However, he was unable to convince the hikers.
After our friendly cup of tea, we started back to the lake and our boat, passing Aunty Chad’s place and the spot where the original road to the Stanley Beach house remained but was entirely overgrown. Brindle went into the overgrown bush and began her greeting act. I felt immediately that the girls must have come back from their venture and were probably down at the old house. Dad said it was impossible as they had no way of crossing the lake. I felt we should go back and along the shore again. Instead, Dad suggested that we check the bridge a short distance ahead. If they had come back, we would have seen their footprints.
No footprints, and after ten minutes or so, Brindle also gave up her greeting act.
Who do you think may have been on that old deserted road?
Me camping with my cousin and a friend in 2017 along the shore in front of my great grandma’s house.
Part two coming soon. . .
