In the summer of 1983, when I was 23 years old, myself and four of my friends sailed to Wolfe Island to spend the weekend. We landed on the island in the late afternoon and quickly set up our tents and began meal preparations After dinner we set a fire and sat around telling stories until late in the night. Hazel, one of the members of our group was from Yorkshire and had been in Canada for only a couple of weeks. She was a pixie like girl who marveled at the Canadian landscape and was taken by our wild life, in particular, fireflies (she had never seen them before and when she saw them she thought they were faeries). After having a few after dinner cocktails and listening to Hazel recite 'The Jabberwock' we decided to turn in. My boyfriend and I decided that because it was such a clear night with no mosquitoes, we would forgo our tent and sleep under the stars. Everyone went to the respective beds.
Everyone woke with the sun and as Hazel came out from her tent she asked my boyfriend and I if we had managed OK during the thunder storm. My boyfriend and I had spent the whole night outside, there had been no thunderstorm. Hazel was adamant, she said that she had awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of the thunder and the rain on the tent and that she could hear people outside the tent. She said that she looked out the tent and through the rain she could see a couple holding hands and walking the path by our camp site. We assured her that we had been outside the whole night and that there had been no storm. The group of us passed off Hazel's experience as a vivid dream and left it that.
Several years later, one of the members of our camping trip contacted me. He was flabbergasted as he had read an article in the local paper about area Ghosts and there was an account of the tragic couple whose boat capsized during a thunderstorm, while they were going to the island from Fort Henry and both had drowned.