PiP GhostTour Pics

[theM.A.dDogge]

oi...i know most of ya who went....ended up at least once...if not every night....grabbing a candle lantern....and a bottle of yer favorite beverage...and walked the fort....i know there were a lot of pictures taken...still seeing spots from some....

sooooo......

lets see what ya got......orbs and all!!!!......

1. a few orbs...or dust...or rain

2.more dust...errr....orbs

3.cool light trail...on wrong side of pole!!!

[theM.A.dDogge]

4.RedJess....with a light trail....sneaking up behind her!!!...

5. took pic of kate inmiddle window....tho got some interestin lights in the right side window???

[theM.A.dDogge]

6. crap load of orbs!!...and possibly something in the mist above her!??...looks like a head with kepi...

7. close up of "face with Kepi".......above her head???... anyone else see this...???....

8. mist trails...

ok...thats all i got of any interest....except a couple of really scary pics of kate and red jess...but they would kill me....muhahaha!!!!.....

anyone else???

[Kate Souris]

I think Jessi took this one....before we even went a'huntin.

This too.

This is the most favorite of the night....see the face next to Gracie?

[theM.A.dDogge]

This is the most favorite of the night....see the face next to Gracie?

yeah....scary bugger...think thats Sterling!!!!....

[RedJessi]

Yar, I did take those two, Kate. I was going to try and get my own shots up this eve, but I cannot find the connector for my adapter. I think my sister "borrowed" it at some point....

*Shoots MAd'Dogge an evil glare

Edited December 11, 2008 by RedJessi

[Kate Souris]

Yeah I think it is, MD....

....But I was talking about on the OTHER side of Grace. :)

[Sheila]

Thank you for those. I always love getting pics from the fort at night and this year I did not get to so thank you very much for sharing!!!!

[Jaded Jetty]

Oh bugger I missed the hunt again this year. I love the photos and next year ---- Please someone take me wit 'em..........

[LadyBarbossa]

Interesting stuff, mates. I'm intregued.

Sorry, after watching the "Ghost Hunter" series, it's pretty good at distinguishing what's what. But I have to say, they use a lot of video, EVPs, EMFs, temp detector, etc.

But aye, I think ye guess have something there. Especially those mists. Anyone see those wit the naked eye? How about shadows? Hear footsteps other than those with ya? sounds like tapping? possible disembodied voice? Or better yet, someone touching ye? Or sudden cold air to the point ye can see yo'r breath?

Sounds awesome, mates.

Hahaha... figured ye say that, Dogge. Hehehe. bad dogge, bad dogge.

Lady B

[theM.A.dDogge]

aye...one night...just capn jim, diosa brig and meself...walkin thru the barricks....capn jim up ahead a bit....when i walked into the room....my onion bottle (full of absynthe) that was slung across me chest and against me hip.....suddenly felt like it was grabbed...and pulled away from me...as i turned expecting the girls....they were several feet from me....i stopped to tell them what happened....before diosa could utter a snide comment for me gitting spooked...something grabbed her shoulder....soon as she said that....brig was about to say that both of us were full of shite....she got hit right in the middle of the forehead...with what felt like a rain drop....not extrodinary in itself...but for the fact she was looking down at the time.....?!?!?!

[Harry]

Interesting stuff, mates. I'm intregued.

Sorry, after watching the "Ghost Hunter" series, it's pretty good at distinguishing what's what. But I have to say, they use a lot of video, EVPs, EMFs, temp detector, etc.

But aye, I think ye guess have something there. Especially those mists. Anyone see those wit the naked eye? How about shadows? Hear footsteps other than those with ya? sounds like tapping? possible disembodied voice? Or better yet, someone touching ye? Or sudden cold air to the point ye can see yo'r breath?

Sounds awesome, mates.

Hahaha... figured ye say that, Dogge. Hehehe. bad dogge, bad dogge.

Lady B

Oh, Lady B, I'm here to tell ye that fortress is filled with many spirits of years past. More than 400 people died at the fort during its active duty period from 1860-1947 as well as during the period it was being built from 1845-1860. We experience the spirits during the day and the night. Just about all of the park staff have experienced "voices" or have heard the distinctive "footsteps" of a soldier or two or three walking a guard mount. We've had a local ghost hunter group in the fort with their instruments and they recorded many interesting items. I've got pictures of orbs that are definitely not dust particles nor can they be pegged to atmospheric conditions.

I began experiencing these spirits in 2001 when I started working at the fort. Didn't quite understand what I was experiencing until 2005 when I and one of the local ghost hunters witnessed an aparition walking a guard mount inside the sally port. I called to it to "report." It stopped, faced us and took a step forward. I freaked, snapped back a salute and exclaimed, "carry on, sergeant." It about faced and disappeared. The following morning I restocked my brochure rack inside the fort before the park opened. As I left the post, I heard a voice say "thank you." I freaked again, because I knew there was nobody around. My kids suggested the "thank you" was from the soldier who I relieved from guard duty.

Those who stayed at the encampment Tuesday night after our event ended reported seeing and hearing all kinds of activity out there. I guess the spirits weren't finished partying.

[William Brand]

Captain Jim pointed out to me that I was there in spirit, and he's right. If you look closely...

[Brig]

Captain Jim pointed out to me that I was there in spirit, and he's right. If you look closely...

Whew...that's some scary stuff!

[Brig]

While the image above may not be particularly spooky in and of itself, it is essential to the grim tale I am about to share. Okay, so it's not all that grim, but at 3:00 in the morning with a rum-soaked head, it was enough to make me want to hide under Lilly's cot and squeal.

I call it...

"Who the Hell is Wendell?!!"

In the wee hours Monday morning, I staggered back to the encampment to find Mister Wobble and some mates sharing a bottle of Pyrat Rum. I had managed to hold onto my cup all evening, the one on the right in the picture above, and Willie was kind enough to fill it up for me. We chatted for a few minutes, then I headed to the tent to find some more comfortable shoes to wear for the rest of my waking hours.

Mae and I were bunking with Sterling and the mistress and the snotties, and it was no small feat to make it, drunk and in the dark, to the back corner of the tent where my things were. I remember giving myself detailed instructions in my head, with that remarkable clarity of mind that comes with knowing that any of the people you might step on in the dark could very likely be armed and dangerous. It went something like this: Remember to step over mister Merriweather, who’s lying sound asleep right in the doorway. Don’t run into the captain’s coffin bed, you don't want to fall in and have to explain that to Lilly. Don’t step on that impossibly small bundle of blankets because Mae is probably in the middle of it somewhere. Watch out for the guns, just a few more steps, is that my chemise and how did it get there? And so on.

Finally I made it to my small mound of belongings and began excavating. No shoes. And these shoes would be hard to miss- they were leopard print flats that even my half-blind, tipsy self would see. Must be in the car. I grabbed my keys and navigated the perils of the tent again, making it out and halfway across the encampment before I realized my cup was no longer in my possession. Back to camp. I checked all the picnic tables outside the tent, checked at the Hide for good measure, and finally decided I must have left it in the tent. I narrowly missed Sean on my way in this time...poor thing was nearly woken up by my left foot, in a most gruesome way. After all that, no cup. I dig through my pile of clothing and trinkets again, feel all around on the floor, nothing. Then I look up, and on the sea chest just across from me, a cup! It was all shining light and choral music, like a Monty Python-esque grail. Until I picked up the cup. Damn...it was Mae's, the one with the rougher grain and larger coin. I peeked inside just to make sure that we hadn't swapped cups at some point in the evening, but no. Dry as a bone.

Somehow I managed to get outside again with no incident. Back across the encampment, past the hide where a grand time was being had by all, to the line of cars beyond the warm light of the lanterns and fires. I heard someone calling my name, and turned in a circle about three times before realizing it was Leatherback, who was sitting in his car about three spaces down from mine waiting for his captain. I stopped and chatted for a few minutes, pretending to be much more sober than I actually was. I remember something about waiting for Jai who had been sent to fetch Spike and something about feeding someone's dogs and good lord it was already almost 3:00am.

I excused myself after a few minutes and went to my car, fumbling in the dark for my keys and getting the trunk open after several abortive attempts. I looked blankly at the pile of costume odds and ends, tentatively moving aside Jack's wanted poster and trying to decide how to proceed. Just then...I spotted IT. For a brief moment, I was remarkably, painfully sober.

Under the poster, on top of a yellow petticoat, was my cup.

My hand shook as I reached for it, my brain scrambling for some explanation. I must have been mistaken earlier...that was my cup in the tent, and this was Mae's. Easy. Why, then, was the inside of this cup damp, and a few drops of rum lingering in the bottom, when the other was bone dry? I sniffed it, and licked the inside. Pyrat Rum. Mae had been asleep for hours, and I knew for a fact that she had only had Malibu and Sprite in her cup all day. This cup had the smoother grain, the smaller coin- it was the very same cup that Willie had filled up for me not ten minutes before. I even double-checked the bottom of it, and "Brig" was written there in red Sharpie. I think my skin froze over. I hadn't been out to the (locked) car all day, and my keys- the only set- had been in the tent until I fetched them to look for my shoes.

Slamming the trunk with little regard for any sleeping friends and neighbors, I grabbed the cup and ran back to Leatherback's car. With chattering teeth I told him the tale, tripping over words in my haste to express my awe and terror. Apparently he understood enough, and his reaction didn't help any. "I...don't want to think about that too much." He said quietly, his face greenlit from the car's dash lights. Spike showed up just then, and I quickly told him the saga. "Oh, that's probably Wendell," was his chipper reply. "He's been out playing tricks tonight." I grasped onto this small shred of logic.

"Who the hell is Wendell?!! And how did he get into my trunk?"

Wendell, Spike patiently explained, is one of the fort ghosts. Apparently he's been known to follow reenactors back to the encampment and had been up to all manner of mischief that night.

I don't think I even said goodbye to the good captain and Leatherback before I skittered back to the warm glow of the Hide and the company gathered there. I ran into Willie first, who patiently listened to my story and then told me I was full of shite and needed to drink more before trying to direct me to the wrong tent at least three times.

For the next hour until I went to bed I told the tale to anyone who would listen. Most listened politely, some skeptical, others more enthusiastic. MD was convinced that some green fairy would make sense of it all. It didn't, but it sure livened the telling of the story for the next few victims. The general opinion seemed to be that I had either had far too much or far too little to drink, and that the only cure for either was to drink more, sleep on it, and it would all make sense in the morning. Four days later, I think I'm starting to sober up, and I still can't make hide nor hair of it.

At this stage, I think there's only one thing I can respectably do. Forgive Wendell, hope he enjoyed the rum, and be grateful that he at least returned the cup.

The End.

Edited December 12, 2008 by Brig

[Captain Jim]

Cool. Nothing like that ever happens to me. And I sometimes go out of my way to invite it.

[RustyNell]

Brig,

Such a great account of Wendell's shenanigans. Thanks for sharing it.

[Harry]

Aye, Wendell is one of the pranksters at the fort. His story is this:

In 1968-69 a dig was begun at Fort Taylor to unearth the Civil War era treasures, i.e., cannon, ammo and such. This dig came on the heels of Fort Jefferson being recognized for its service during the War of Rebellion. The U.S. Navy held the title to the Fort Taylor property at that time. Someone wrote a letter to the Miami Herald newspaper wondering why Fort Jefferson was being recognized when Fort Taylor played a far more important role in the War of Rebellion. "Fort who?" was essentially the answer. As it turned out the letter made way to the U.S. Navy commander's office in Key West. He was new on station and not familiar with the property (which was being used as a "storage"---read junk--yard). The CO called in his XO who was also new on station and not familiar with the property. They then called in the head of Public Works. That's right, he, too, was new on station. However, in this third meeting a civilian came along. Mr. Howard England, an architect with the navy here, grew up in Key West and he and his buds used to play at the fort when they were kids. He believed there were tons of "treasures" holed up in the old fortress. The Navy brass congratulated Mr. England on his new position of chief excavator of Fort Taylor. Now, the fort used to be three stories tall until 1898. At that time, the top two tiers of the fort along with nearly 200 Civil War cannon, ammo, and such were buried inside the old cannon rooms (casemates). Over the course of 12 years, Mr. England, his sons and anyone else he could get to volunteer would spend their days digging out the casemates looking for treasures. One day while Mr. England was down in Casemate 13 (on the southside of the fort) he uncovered a device that was used for turing sea water into potable water. Amazing device for its day. But his search was for cannon. He's taking a break from the dig, resting up against the wall of the casemate when he spies a figure standing across from him. This figure is dressed in the uniform of CW soldier. Time stands still for a moment. The figure blurts out to Mr. England, "What be ye lookin' fer sonny?" Mr. England obviously is somewhat taken aback but manages to reply, "I'm looking for cannon." The figure instructs Mr. England to dig in a specific spot. It further explains that it knows where all cannon are buried because he served at this fort and died at this fort from one of the Yellow Fever outbreaks. The figure goes on to say he's watched all the changes to Fort Taylor and is happy that the fort will finally receive its due. After thinking about this, Mr. England decides to dig where the figure told him. The result of that dig was all the cannon you saw mounted in the casemates. The story about this find hits the press (I do have a copy of the story from the Atlanta Constitution). At the end of the story the reporter asks how all of the weaponry was discovered. Mr. England explains it was because of a Sergeant Wendell Gardiner--a spirit of Fort Taylor from years past. Some six weeks later, Mr. England is paid a visit from some folks from Massachusetts. They wanted to personally thank Mr. England for learning what had happened to a long lost relative who served at Fort Taylor in the early 1860s and believed to have died there--a Sergeant Wendell Gardiner.

Now, so you don't think for one minute I'm making this up, I do have a copy of the press clipping and I do have copies of Mr. England's notes where he writes about this incident.

[Brig]

Aye, Wendell is one of the pranksters at the fort. His story is this:

In 1968-69 a dig was begun at Fort Taylor to unearth the Civil War era treasures, i.e., cannon, ammo and such. This dig came on the heels of Fort Jefferson being recognized for its service during the War of Rebellion. The U.S. Navy held the title to the Fort Taylor property at that time. Someone wrote a letter to the Miami Herald newspaper wondering why Fort Jefferson was being recognized when Fort Taylor played a far more important role in the War of Rebellion. "Fort who?" was essentially the answer. As it turned out the letter made way to the U.S. Navy commander's office in Key West. He was new on station and not familiar with the property (which was being used as a "storage"---read junk--yard). The CO called in his XO who was also new on station and not familiar with the property. They then called in the head of Public Works. That's right, he, too, was new on station. However, in this third meeting a civilian came along. Mr. Howard England, an architect with the navy here, grew up in Key West and he and his buds used to play at the fort when they were kids. He believed there were tons of "treasures" holed up in the old fortress. The Navy brass congratulated Mr. England on his new position of chief excavator of Fort Taylor. Now, the fort used to be three stories tall until 1898. At that time, the top two tiers of the fort along with nearly 200 Civil War cannon, ammo, and such were buried inside the old cannon rooms (casemates). Over the course of 12 years, Mr. England, his sons and anyone else he could get to volunteer would spend their days digging out the casemates looking for treasures. One day while Mr. England was down in Casemate 13 (on the southside of the fort) he uncovered a device that was used for turing sea water into potable water. Amazing device for its day. But his search was for cannon. He's taking a break from the dig, resting up against the wall of the casemate when he spies a figure standing across from him. This figure is dressed in the uniform of CW soldier. Time stands still for a moment. The figure blurts out to Mr. England, "What be ye lookin' fer sonny?" Mr. England obviously is somewhat taken aback but manages to reply, "I'm looking for cannon." The figure instructs Mr. England to dig in a specific spot. It further explains that it knows where all cannon are buried because he served at this fort and died at this fort from one of the Yellow Fever outbreaks. The figure goes on to say he's watched all the changes to Fort Taylor and is happy that the fort will finally receive its due. After thinking about this, Mr. England decides to dig where the figure told him. The result of that dig was all the cannon you saw mounted in the casemates. The story about this find hits the press (I do have a copy of the story from the Atlanta Constitution). At the end of the story the reporter asks how all of the weaponry was discovered. Mr. England explains it was because of a Sergeant Wendell Gardiner--a spirit of Fort Taylor from years past. Some six weeks later, Mr. England is paid a visit from some folks from Massachusetts. They wanted to personally thank Mr. England for learning what had happened to a long lost relative who served at Fort Taylor in the early 1860s and believed to have died there--a Sergeant Wendell Gardiner.

Now, so you don't think for one minute I'm making this up, I do have a copy of the press clipping and I do have copies of Mr. England's notes where he writes about this incident.

Wow, that's fantastic, Harry. Wendell can drink from my cup anytime!

[RustyNell]

HARRY!!! you inspired me to post it here: Now what everyone knows the story...next year I'll be sure to sing it at the closing ceremonies as well.

OL ZACH'S TAVERN by Rusty Nell Riley

Raise a toast to Ol Zach's Tavern

Tap another cask of rum

We'll drink our fill and have our thrills

until the morning comes

Here's a bottle for each Judy

For the lad's down on the pier

A toast to Ol Zach's tavern

Cause we're bloody glad you're here.

You can hear the cannon's thunder

they echo through these halls

the one's who've come before us

gone where lighter duties call

To those who stood for freedom

We salute you far and near

Raise a toast to Ol Zach's tavern

Cause we're bloody glad you're here.

Here's to Jeremiah Crowley

a soldier tried and true

IJ Day-O, the brothers Trow,

and Wendell Gardiner too.

To the O'sceolla Battery

and don't forget A'Dair

Raise a toast to Ol Zach's Tavern

we salute you everywhere!!

I love the spirit of that Fort and am so glad they welcome us with open arms year after year.

Braze needs to post his ghost photo here so everyone can see how much they love the tavern as well.

[Brig]

I can't wait to hear it, Nell!

[RustyNell]

<a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=320376718&albumID=170337&imageID=4594579"><img src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/93/7c11c67b2079283de63d1ce0dbd9550b/m.jpg" alt="Ghost of the fort." /></a>

this was a picture Braze took in the pub a few years ago.

[RustyNell]

<a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=320376718&albumID=170337&imageID=4594579"><img src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/93/7c11c67b2079283de63d1ce0dbd9550b/m.jpg" alt="Ghost of the fort." /></a>

this was a picture Braze took in the pub a few years ago.

[RustyNell]

<a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=320376718&albumID=170337&imageID=4594579"><img src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/93/7c11c67b2079283de63d1ce0dbd9550b/m.jpg" alt="Ghost of the fort." /></a>

this was a picture Braze took in the pub a few years ago.

[RustyNell]

<a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=320376718&albumID=170337&imageID=4594579"><img src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/93/7c11c67b2079283de63d1ce0dbd9550b/m.jpg" alt="Ghost of the fort." /></a>

this was a picture Braze took in the pub a few years ago.