http://boscrowan.co.uk/2017/08/13/all-aboard-the-roller-sorry-atlantic-coaster/pretty-morvah-schoolhouse-and-church/ That night in my tent I awoke to find the light strangely changed – was it morning already? I looked at my phone – no, it was only two a.m. Everything inside the tent was lightly wet – it must have started raining. I put my shoes on to get the rain-covering on the tent. But strange – stepping outside I could see the stars above me. It wasn’t raining – it was just a thick river-fog, rolling down with the cold water, covering everything with dew in the middle of the night. It was only a few feet high – enough to envelop my tent, but standing I had lifted my head above it.
http://cowmanauction.com/123 With the rain-covering on my tent, I was enclosed in a cocoon, and truth be told, a U.F.O. right out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind could have landed on the shore opposite me, and I would have presumed it was just another big ship making its way along the river. All night long big, ghostly ships came up and down the river, their decks and riggings and towers lit up in strange ways, their engines chugging in the darkness, the waves of their wakes slapping the banks just a few feet beneath my tent. The boats might have been a quarter of a mile in length. I could hear the cars on the highway too – it was a narrow peninsula, and sound travels well around water. And then there were the animals – things splashing in the water, and the crying of frogs, their croaking neither a deep bullfrog groan nor a high-pitched coqui peep, but a violent, middle-toned, frenzied audible desperation, a strange sound. There was also something that sounded like a laughing witch – I presume a bird of some sort.
No voices, no music, nothing human – just animals and machines.
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