Fenland ghosties

On Halloween night, to avoid all the sugary sweets, we departed from our usual tradition of "trick-or-treating" the neighbours and went out to Wicken Fen for the evening. As we approached the fens, our headlights picked up tendrils of white mist that coiled towards us from the fen-drains which abound in the low lying peatlands east of Earith.

We parked at the already full National Trust car park in Wicken and followed the pumpkin trail to the visitors' centre where we were greeted by a group of flame wielding vampire hunters. Luckily I had just removed my teeth and wasn't spotted. We were then ushered outside on to the boardwalk which runs for miles around the fen, then abandoned to our fate!

Wicken Fen is Britain's oldest nature reserve, famous for its freshwater and marsh life, but we saw none of this at night, just the strange glow of willow-the-wisps and marsh whites which tried to lure us off the safety of the trail into the bottomless mire. The dampness grew worse and the air was filled with misty droplets. The grasses and sedges were laden with dew.

At the wind pump we encountered a poor devil who had been hanged from the revolving sails. Further on there was Black Shuck, the devil-dog with his glowing eyes, and various monks and zombies. Pretty much normal for the Isle of Ely then!

One poor soul had panicked and his legs were spotted sticking out of the marsh. Lost souls could be heard all over the fen. I guess the papers will be full of missing persons ads at the week-end.

Dan was a bit scared, but his Mum was pretty terrified really, especially when people started jumping out from under the boardwalk. We all hastened back to the centre for hot drinks and snacks. It was mild enough to sit at a picnic table in the dark and enjoy the sound of the fens at night: Blood-curdling really. We're probably scarred for life. 'Back next year? Definitely.