There's nothing like a spine-tingling ghost story! Growing up on Cape Breton Island, dramatic tales, often touching on the spirit world, were an intrinsic  part the cultural fabric of the island,  which combined rich oral folklore with some of the best music and literature in the world. The swirling Scottish, Acadian, and Mi'kmaq traditions of storytelling complimented each other well and contributed to the island's legendary ceilidhs. 

No doubt this cultural background contributed to my love of seeking out ghost stories when I travel.  Already a big fan of walking tours of all shapes and sizes, I discovered that ghost tours were my perfect form of evening entertainment. Affordable, convenient, entertaining, and fun, ghost tours combined light exercise and a bit of light history with the chance to meet new friends and discover new parts of town. And if they ended at a pub, so be it! They were a great way to relax and let someone else worry about directions for a change, and as a female solo traveler, I appreciated the chance to part take in a safe evening activity.

So do I actually believe in ghosts? Belief is a bit of a strong word, but I DO stand by my ghostly story - and I'm sure these other bloggers do as well! Here's my story of a visit to Herstmonceux Castle in England when I felt I wasn't entirely alone.

I was thrilled to be invited by The World Wanderer and Traveller Soul to participate in the annual Capture the Color photo essay. The rules for the contest are simple, post five photos that embody five different colors, and some pretty fantastic prizes are up for grabs, including the grand prize of a £3,000 travel fund. At the end, I’ll nominate five more bloggers to take part in the contest. Here’s my entry:

As the morning light drifts in after a spectacular sunrise on the hop of Haleakala, the rare silverswords are a shimmery white (with hints of green). Everyone rushes to the top to see the sunrise, but there are so many natural wonders in this beautiful national park. 

The piercing laugh and cry of the loon reverberate across the polished glass of Grand Lake. It's a sound I've heard a hundred times before in recordings, but never in the flesh, and I'm taken aback by how haunting it is. When the loon finally settles into a stealthy, silent swim, the entire campground is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.