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by Terry Brinkman



Late October Fourteen years ago I made a trek to Duluth Minnesota, with my wife, son, and my son’s wife.  My son and his wife were living in the twin cities, his wife was going to school in Minneapolis. Duluth is on Lake Superior where large cargo ships stop to load and unload shipments, very interesting to watch. October is a good time to visit, less crowds and before the gales of November. The lake usually freezes over (sometimes too thin, one January when Ice Fishing my friend’s Truck’s front right wheel broke through the Ice; but that’s another story)  

We were staying in a 1950s (or that may have been the last time it was remodeled) cottage right on the west side of Lake Superior. As usual I wake up in the middle of the night passing the clock on my way to the bathroom it reads Two, Two in the morning that’s Midnight at my house. I can hear someone zip and unzip their sleeping bay; no it’s the wind blowing a branch up and down the chimney (weird sound) I need to get back to bed (sleep).

After leaving the two pints I had last night at the pub, on my way back to bed. I stop to look out the Picture Window overlooking Lake Superior. A light blanket of fog lay over the lake and after just a few moments lightning strikes. I rub the sleep from my eyes, did I see a ship out there? Now I can’t go back to bed until lightning strikes again so I look to see what I saw.  There were a few strikes but they were way-out on the lake so no help to me. I could hear that zipper branch again the wind was starting up again, across the lake it was blowing fog across the lake. I still can’t see what I saw, a ship or whatever, just then another flash of lighting.

Now I see what I saw - it was a ship well kind-a, the wind was not just moving the fog but the ship too. Must be a Ghost Ship. With the fog gone I can’t see not one but three Ghost Ships. Yesterday at the visitors center the host was telling us of all the lost ships on Lake Superior, more than One Hundred have been lost. There was a song about one, The Edman Fitzgerald.

Back to bed for some needed sleep; tomorrow looking for Lake Aglets, or am I asleep now?           




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