The ghosts that play in the moonlight near the Haig Point Lighthouse love the Daufuskie Island Ferry. Once visitors land on the island — the spirits make the rules. Ol’ Elvis Anderson flew in from Texas all smiles. That cowboy didn’t know it, but he’d be heading home without his boots.
“Heritage Week” with the PGA Tour in town is a hootin’ and hollerin’ time on Daufuskie Island. Folks come in from all parts of the Carolina Lowcountry and beyond. They play golf on the Haig Signature Course in the morning and then cross the Calibogue Sound to sip cocktails at the RBC Heritage. It’s nonstop parties, live music, good food and plenty of laughs.
Ol’ Elvis joined a few Haig locals for a friendly golf match. There were winners and losers, but all had a fine time out there on the Rees Jones design. After the round they gathered at the Calibogue Club for dinner and drinks. As the sun dipped below the seagrass horizon, the Lighthouse spirits awoke.
At night the moonlight bounces off the sound and gently flashes moss hanging from massive oaks. Those making the drive from the Club past seashell beach are at the mercy of the local ghouls. The Lighthouse on the point was built in 1873 and manned until 1924. Anyone will tell you it’s more haunted than a New Orleans cemetery.
Naive and new to the area, after dinner Elvis hopped in his golf cart and started for his room in the Strachan Mansion. He thought he was all alone out there, but nope. He was surrounded by Lighthouse spirits. They hovered high and low around his gas-powered E-Z-Go. His size 11 golf shoes sat in the cart’s basket, but not for long. The ghosts delivered a clear warning and in a snap — the right shoe vanished into the starry night sky.
Birds chirped the next day on Daufuskie and Ol’ Elvis didn’t even know he’d been victimized. Then he realized his shoe was gone. He combed the island, searched everywhere and even posted on a Daufuskie Island Residents Facebook Group, “REWARD: Lost Golf Shoe”. Old timer locals laughed under their breath at the befuddled Texan. That golf shoe was gone for good.
Tired of searching, Elvis stopped near the Lighthouse for a rest. There wasn’t a bit of wind, but two empty rocking chairs on the Lighthouse front porch swayed like a boat in a storm. Then a whisper, “Your golf shoe is ours now.” The Texan knew it was time to get outta town. In an effort to appease the higher powers, Elvis placed his other shoe atop a makeshift altar like a sacrificial lamb.
Some will say there ain’t no spirits in the Lighthouse, but it won’t be long till they have a golf shoe gone astray too. Ol’ Elvis’ offering calmed the spirits for a short time, but not forever. Daufuskie Island is their home and always will be.