Ghost Castle of East Falls Church LbNA # 1446
|Placed Date||Nov 8 2002|
|Last Found||Nov 10 2012|
|Last Edited||Nov 10 2015|
Along the W&OD Railroad Trail
Placed by the Doubtful Guests
Hand made stamp
Dogs on leash ok.
1724 in the wilderness of the Colonies.
"Damn good brandy!"
"And you thought camping with a surveyor would be uncivilized. Come. Let me show you the secret around these parts. And the more brandy you have the better you can see it. ... That hill yonder. See the moat that swirls around its base? See among the trees its crown of crumbling stones?"
Straining to focus his misty eyes they slowly widened in wonder.
1999 on the Orange line.
Between West Falls Church and Balston I like to look north from the train for the window cut through a chimney. Looking south one day in the leafless winter, just east of East Falls Church, I saw a sharp hill rising out of the middle of suburbia. "What is that?"
I gathered the troops: 9 year old boys and a girl armed with souvenir flintlocks from DisneyWorld and wooden swords from the Renaissance Faire. Crossing what looked like the remnants of a moat we stormed the summit. In victory we examined the peak's crags of orangish rock. Our minds spinned into...
All around us were the reddish orange battlements. Below lay large pieces of the fallen tower, once gleaming of white quartz.
"What smells of elderberries?"
"You Father. Ever since lunch. Can we get a hamster?"
"Ask your Mother."
Suddenly the trojan rabbit hurled itself over the battlements. Sprinting northeast down the path it jumped on a chunk of white tower quartz stuck in the path. Puzzled, rabbit pulled from its waistcoat a watch, or possibly a compass, and dashed off at 120 degrees. Only to stop short on another white rock. White Rock? Don't they make ginger ale? Looking nervous and late rabbit dashed off again at 60 degrees leaping some 40 giant steps to a very large tree. Also a very small tree. Between them rabbit furtively searched under a six inch square chunk of orange battlement and flashing its tale, surreptitiously vanished.
"Curiouser and curiouser," I remarked.
"Because she's made of wood?"
We walked down the hill to the Roman road to read all about it.
Later as I pondered over brandy our adventures, the more I pondered the more I came to believe we had found the ghostly ruins of a castle lost in mists. May I recommend Irish Mist? If you find the letterbox damaged or missing, or if you are puzzled by the directions :-) write theDoubtfulGuests at yahoo dot com.
Scarab of the Doubtful Guests