|
|
 |
Ghost Ride
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ghost Ride into History
Don Bouchard
10/01/2005
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
Don Bouchard
|
Real or
imaginary, the ghosts of the past permeate this special place. We walk the halls
and the parade ground; view the outside world through the gunports, and make a
wish in the old well. We set up folding camp chairs and a table for a
wine-and-cheese spread on the gun heights alongside one of the cannon. The
Tulocay Cabernet is perfect with the Cambozola cheeses. We enjoy the changing
light of the sunset, toasting to the fallen who had defended these walls. I
light up a Cuban Cohiba Esplendido and savor its lush aroma as I fancy myself a
military commander standing at this very post, surveying his troops and those of
his enemy camped outside, contemplating the battle sure to begin at sunrise. I
share his dark reverie. As full night sets in, the stars sparkle and lightning
from distant thunderheads illuminates the sky. We take it all in and wait for
the ghosts to become more than imagination.
They never materialize for us,
although there is one spot where I get a chill each time I pass, and, in the
quarters, a rocking chair gently moves back and forth on its own; each has a
logical explanation, but both make me wonder. Unfortunately, nothing approaches
the dragging chains and wails in the night or the misty figures floating across
the parade ground that I secretly hope will appear. We do, however, connect with
history in a meaningful way, and all it took was a weekend—and a road. Your time
machine is in the garage.
www.presidiolabahia.org
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
