Ghost of Dry Tortugas 3

The 13 desert islands. Fort Jefferson’s ‘basement.’ The ghost in the rec room.

Vanishing lands:

Perhaps the most obvious ghosts out at the Dry Tortugas are not men at all.

Let me explain.

The ~ seven desert islands which make up the Dry Tortugas, exist at the end of the Florida Keys. The trailing tip of shallows before a drop off to deeper water. Made of coral and algal sands, they are built atop the bones of an older coral reef.

I’ll try not to sneak too much geology in today. (Spooky.) But the point is, the islands rest on the bones of an older reef, bones you can see in the walls and ceilings of Fort Jefferson. (These corals were quarried for the forts construction.) Walk those brick halls. Stand on any of the islands. You are inhabiting the skeleton of an ecosystem long past.

My other point lies in the ‘7’ islands themselves. Islands like North Key, North East Key, Bird Key, North West Key. . . look at the map below, it might make my point faster. These islands change. Storms and tide alter their shape, and sometimes wash them away entirely with the next hurricane.

Much like ghosts themselves, islands appear and disappear upon whims we can only imagine, and they take with them when they go. Bird Key was the burial ground for the men, women, and children who died of yellow fever. Now it is a sand bar, typically several feet below water west of the fort: a cemetery lost. You can snorkel over it today, even see one of the better-preserved wrecks. However, there are no markers for those once buried there. Look for them still.

This is a very accurate and presently historical map of the Dry Tortugas. :)

Underwater, Underground

The Dry Tortugas are, as written, dry.

If you wanted to build and garrison a fort, (and if you wanted said fort to serve as a supply depot for ships,) then you need water. So, Fort Jeff was built atop a complex underground cistern capable of holding 1.5 million gallons. The entire fort was designed filter and to collect water every time it rained.

The problem began almost immediately, when the walls to the cistern cracked, letting in sea water. Ruining the plans to use the fort as a water depot. Why am I bringing this up in a (spooky) blog post? Isn’t the sadness of lost potential an integral part of some ghost stories?

I jest. (It’s the name of the page.) The reason I bring this up is, but there are three things which scare me more than anything else. The lesser two are applicable here: Scorpions and falling into wells. In some of the arches of the fort, there are openings which allow you to look, or fall, down into this lower level. (Scary!)

If the idea of falling into the brackish rainwater of indeterminate depths, to be trapped in the very walls of the fort which might also contain at least one Yellow Fever victim (probably not/see previous post) wasn’t terrifying enough, there is more. I once had the horror of witnessing the true fright of this under layer. On a night tour, a ranger lifted a slate square in the fort’s floor, one of the few access points to this lower level. He shined his light down into the cistern. What stared back? Hundreds of beady red scorpion eyes!

Next episode/post will have the most popular, and referential ghost story I know from the fort, which makes sense for Halloween. If you have read Treasure off the Coast, then you know the one. But that is not my favorite ghost story, or the one I have the most experiences with.

Ghost of the Rec (room)

Ghost stories aren’t simply about apparitions. They aren’t always tied to a specific person, or event. If you consume enough (any) of the paranormal content which comes out during the month of October, or if you have reason to research ghosts, say for a future book, then you have no doubt encountered more esoteric stories.

Looming presences, shifts in atmosphere, dour feelings and oppressive moods which seem to come from the haunted place itself. Locations that feel: off. The weight of history. Inside Fort Jefferson this history is written in brick, and there are several locations which just seemed different, more weighted.

But which came first, the chicken or the egg. Was I overcome by fear of certain location, only then to learn of tragedy past? Or was my experience with a place shaped by my knowledge of history?

For next weeks story, that question is up in the air. But for the last section today, I can answer the question quite clearly. My impression came first.

The Rec Room is a location inside Ranger only section of Fort Jeff. When I lived there it was the laundry room and recreation area. Two TV’s, a game system, a stockpile of videos, a pool table. All sitting inside walls constructed around arches once used as target practices. (You could still see the bullet holes in the wall.)

Other than my dad’s home, I probably spent the most time in this room. I became a pool shark. I watched every video, and I developed a love for a game franchise which will make an appearance in future blogs. Basically, I would hang out in the Rec Room on lazy summer days when the sun was too hot, and I couldn’t bike around the fort for fear of running into tourists.

Despite the fact that it was my couch-potato haven, I always felt afraid to enter the Rec Room alone. There was a feeling, a presence, an oppressive aura that my overactive imagination helped fuel. There was a silence offensive to break. I’d hesitate to open the door. I’d take deep breaths before entering. When I sat on the couch to watch TV, I would sit with the wall to my back so I could not be surprised by any figures which might appear in the entry area. When playing pool with myself I would wince at the first crack of the pool balls afraid I was disturbing someone I could not see. I would jump every time a buzzer in the laundry room would go off.

None of these occurrences were overwhelming enough to keep me out of the room, but they were memorable enough that I can still catalogue them.

Log of ‘hauntings’ in Fort Jefferson’s Rec Room by Nathan W. Landrum

·       Spooky feeling

·       Room seems darker than it should.

·       Television speakers were playing Spanish voices, but the screen was off. The voices didn’t seem like a TV show. (Once, when this happened I would have sworn the TV was not plugged in, but this might be faulty memory.)

·       Pool Balls left in place for a self v self game seem to have moved after I left for lunch.

·       The door to the laundry room opening and closing, but no one else in the Rec Room.

If you were to ask me to identify the most likely haunted place in the fort, I would say… stay tuned for next week. But if you were to ask for a good second location, one I could more readily speak of from my own experiences, I would say check out the rec room.

I can readily say my impression of this room was made without any influence of ghost stories or knowledge of history. Of course, that is because there are no other stories about this room. A few rangers, archeologists, or ferry crew spoke about their own discomfort with the Rec Room, but there is no history to trace, no event which can be linked to the location to explain why it might be haunted. (At least none I could find.) There was only a feeling, a fear, my imagination, and maybe something or someone more.

Stay a while, play a game of pool, and let me know if you meet anyone who wants their story told.