One last thing...

Around the campfire one night I made up a ghost story about how the island got its name—something about how William Phelps was a Captain in the American Revolution who betrayed his troops to the British on the eve of the battle of Ticonderoga, twenty miles north at the other end of the lake. He was pursued down Lake George by the Americans, captured on an island, and beheaded for his treachery. His body was buried on the island—perhaps at the south end, maybe on the point, maybe under one of the campsites, no one really knows—and his head was carried ten miles further south to Fort William Henry for public display as a warning to others. The island, in time, became known as Phelps Island, and that was where we were camping. "Some say" that his headless body will prowl the island for revenge when the moon is full... just like tonight... So of course the kids (ages 7-11) were totally and gleefully freaked out.

Anyway, the next morning all six kids were sitting in one of the tents together. Walking by, I heard them talking about Captain Phelps and where on the island his body was buried. So I started recording just before they started an impromptu séance. Here's the video – the sound is the important part.