Clear and cool this morning, supposed to be a high of 16 today. Start the triples tournament in Park today. I guess everyone has heard some variation of the phrase "live for the moment" "live life to the fullest" . Yesterday while I was bowling  one of the ladies was admonishing a watcher for not getting back into the sport. He asked her what was the hurry and she replied " because tomorrow you could be dead". I can't express how those oft said words hit me at that moment. Then last nightwear watched a movie and there was a shot of someone walking down a remote road in the evening and that hurt! I guess times of piercing sadness are now a part of my life, they hurt but strangely I don't want them to go away either.

I understand that in recent years there has been talk of at least one ghost that has been seen in the harbour.  The following is a little story that certainly has ghost-like qualities.

  In 1942, many of the fisherman that used Pender Harbour as their base tied their boats up in the bay across the spit from the Garden Bay lagoon.  Perhaps that is actually Garden Bay.  Above the floats where they tied there was a board walk that lead to the Beer Parlour (back in those days we didn’t have pubs, bars and the like).

 It seems this one evening this particular fisherman decided to go and have ‘a couple’.  He stayed until the eleven o’clock closing time after a few more than his ‘ couple’.  As he walked in the dark down the boardwalk he thought he heard footsteps behind him.  He stopped and looked back, the footsteps stopped as well and there was no one there.  “Imagination.” Was his thought.  He turned and proceeded down the walk, again and no mistaking this time, there were steps behind him!  He looked again; no one there!  Forward again but this time faster and the footsteps followed.  Once more he looked and even called out; “Anyone there?” No answer and nothing to be seen.

 The steps followed him to the top of the ramp that went down to the float, he stopped once more and as he did something cold, wet and slimy slid into one of his palms!

 He took off in a slightly wavering run; the steps following, he ran to his boat, tore open the small door and jumped down the two steps into the interior! He fumbled around found the switch for the small interior light and switched it on, he turned and look back up the hatch.

 In the hatch doorway was my grandmother’s very large black Newfoundland dog looking down at him!

 Colonel (that was his name) was a friendly sort and being a true rescue dog probably thought it was his duty to escort that fisherman home.