The ruins of history lie all around us. Sometimes we build over them, sometimes we forget them, and sometimes we don’t.
On the island of New Castle, New Hampshire, the ruins of a colonial fort guard the Pisquatua River at its outlet to the Atlantic Ocean. Across the river, through the mist, you can see the coast of Maine.
Originally called “Fort William and Mary” or simply “The Castle,” it was renamed “Constitution” after the Revolutionary war. It stayed in active duty until after World War II.
Now its ruins are guarded by a chain link fence and an overgrown tangle of foliage. In sympathy with the dying structure, the grass remains brown and autumnal even in the height of summer.
Following the fence, we found a gate and a sign. The gate was open, the sign told us to stay on the blue line, all other areas were off-limits. There was a good reason for this. The fort cuts right through the middle of an active Coast Guard base, effectively splitting the present in two.
Walking the line brought us to a forbidding gate with portcullis raised. We walked through it into the heart of the fort.
To our left was a sentry room. Once it was certainly the resting place of soldiers, now darkness and spiders are its only tenants.
Following the wall we found a stairway. Nature is slowly reclaiming it, sending up battalions of weeds to recapture land stolen by human hands and stacked into unlikely towers.
At the top, we found a ghostly view and a room with a platform that might once have supported a large gun of some sort. What battles were fought here?
Downstairs again, Lucinda explored a passage through the wall. Its sharp corners were probably meant to slow invading forces, allowing the defenders to pick them off one by one as they emerged to the level of the ground.
Everywhere we looked history rose like mist from the stones of the place, making us wonder if ghosts still stand sentry duty along her tumbling walls.
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