Ghost walk - Edenton, NC
A few weeks ago, my wife, two other couples and I traveled to Edenton, North Carolina to have dinner and take part in a ghost walk. This was my second ghost walk; the first was two months prior on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Must be the latest tourism trend in the tar heel state Admittedly, the scariest part about the trip was noticing that the local high school was named John Holmes High which conjured of creepy thoughts of a 70’s porn star. I chose not inquire about the school mascot.
Edenton is a quaint community of roughly 5,000 residents, and it sits at the confluence of the Chowan River and the Albemarle Sound. It’s an easy one and half hour drive south west of Virginia Beach, Virginia, and the route takes you past a patchwork of large, puffy cotton fields and a several houses where evidently it’s appropriate to bury kinfolk in the front yard.
Edenton traces its roots back to 1658 when some Virginia settlers evidently became restless and found their way to a marshy, natural inner harbor in North Carolina. In fact, Edenton Colony was the first permanent English settlement in the state. It went through a series of name changes for about sixty years from being called the Towne on Queen Anne’s Creek, to Ye Towne on Mattercommack Creek and then as the Port of Roanoke. BTW, where has all the Ye Towne’s gone? It was renamed Edenton and incorporated in 1722 in honor of Governor Charles Eden who died that year. The town served as the capitol of North Carolina until 1743.
The town’s hub, if you will, is a nine-block area of shops, restaurants, and large stately homes, a few of which are said to be haunted; thus one of the reasons why we are here. The other reason: dinner.
309 Bistro where one can dine on “mighty fine yard bird” or delicious shrimp and grits.
Bistro 309 is located on South Broad Street, which serves as Edenton’s main street. It’s a trendy place with lovely, large tapestries of flowers on the wall and a fairly decent selection of craft beers scribbled on a chalkboard in the back. The bistro is located in a building that was likely a department store back in the day. You know the style: center door recessed a couple of feet back with large display windows on either side that likely featured1940’s manikins sporting latest fashions. Our waitress, Morgan only remembers the last two tenants, both of which were restaurants that went as quickly as they came. While Morgan’s knowledge of the building’s history was limited, she made up for it in friendliness and southern charm. She used terms of endearment when addressing the men in our dining party. I was “hon,” the other two were “sweetie” and “sugar.” Although, I believe halfway through dinner she called me “sweetie.” These days, I’ll take what I can get.
The menu consisted of tasty options like blackened tuna pasta, grilled marinated lamb chops, Atlantic salmon and roasted chicken with red eye gravy which Morgan described as a “mighty fine yard bird.” I opted for the shrimp and grits.
Our guide trying his best to scare the bejeezus out of us
The ghost tour started from the town council chambers down the street where our first stop was at the Instragrammable Roanoke River Light House. Shame on me for not hearing if it was haunted because I was trying to get a picture before the sun went down. Our guide, John was a bearded guy in his mid-twenties with a pleasant southern drawl and an infectious grin. He wore a civil war officer’s uniform and led this evening’s troops down magnolia and sycamore-lined streets and past Victorian and Georgian style mc-mansions, some of which from the 17th and 18th century. I waited anxiously for grizzly stories of how early residents were hacked to pieces by marauding pirates only to be cast deep in the netherworld, forever searching for missing body parts.
No such luck.
Most of the stories were about wafting apparitions that peered out windows or stood at the foot of beds of unsuspecting house guests. One story was about a woman who tumbled to her death down a flight of stairs and now the current resident’s dogs — on occasion — would bark and sniff at the spot where supposedly the woman passed. Oh, the horror. Another story had to do with a bride who played a joke on the wedding party and hid in a trunk only to suffocate and die. So much for a romantic honeymoon.
The spookiest place, aside from the porn star high school, was the old jail. We were allowed to enter this cramped space where about six cells were stacked tightly and a hallway, if you can call it that, as wide as your shoulders. Ghostly gray metal bunks were stacked three high, home to countless nightmares thoughts of regret. It was dark, dark and musty and was probably a real downer to be incarcerated here but it likely deterred many folks from a life of crime.
We made it back to our starting point after a quick story about a ghost ship in the harbor and some parting words from guide. While the ghost walk lacked stories that made my skin crawl, I did come away with a better understanding of the town’s history, spent time with close friends, and dined on some delicious shrimp and grits.