Haloween Costume Party 2022

 Our Halloween Costume Party was held at the fabled Chateau Von Stefan hidden in the fog and clouds which seem to continuously surround this aged chateau in the North of a region know a Delta, the forth Greek letter.  Situated at the very top of the rise in the Fraser River, as one follows it eastward from the wild Pacific Ocean to a height of 113m off the ocean's floor, the mysterious, tall steeple in the rare photo on the right, the clouds briefly parted to let a liver of light illuminate that spire, was not to be seen as the few brave guests and Pacific Ski Club members arrived.  

 

One is first greeted by the opening through which both the living and the dead must pass in order to walk along the aged graveyard, the newest headstone marked 1902.  Looking back, as in the photo to your left, you may question your decision to step over that stone sill, the last of the ancient castle wall of the mighty fortress which once stood on that very spot (or so the legend goes).  

 

As you turn forward once more, you let your eyes scan the eerie green glow in which most of the front yard, long overgrown in wild flowers and unkempt since that last grounds keeper died well before WWI.  Yet, if you let those orbs pierce the distant graves, you notice another ghostly colour--RED the hue of the setting sun or that of the fires of Hell?  Either answer will do as you make your way to the wide, stone stairs which take you up to the landing.  

That landing, thankfully, is well lit in a ring of bright, orange lights; the stout, oak door, broken down by vandals earlier this year (legend says it may have been an organized attempt by the local population, with the help of the brave fire brigade, who tried to rid themselves of the mad owner by smashing down that cursed entrance) had been replaced by a steel door of a more modern design.  

Once you worked up the courage to knock, the portal was opened by a cowled monk dressed in a sombre tone of dark brown, the only ornamentation he carried being a large wooden cross which hung down to the middle of his slightly protruding belly.  Once inside--candelabras on furniture, wall sconces over the grand piano and living room as well as the long halls, tea lights in the bathing rooms--candlelight had the place all aglow.  From that moment on, you felt at home and the fun began.

Our first Social of the Fall was this Halloween Costume Party and there were door prizes for:

• Best dresses couple - Betty Boo and her bald, aged husband (left middle)
  
• Best dresses male - Beelzebub
• Best dresses female - The hippy chick with the frazzled bell-bottom pants and lofty-healed, black shoes.  The colour of the outfit nearly dimmed the candles!

 If you were too tall (the master of Chateau Von Stefan towers at 5 foot 7 inches) many encountered one of the kitchen witches which were throughout the dining room, kitchen, manor hall and the great festival room.  Yet, these witches could also be encountered all over the front and back yards.

Eleven members and guests arrived any time after 6:00 p.m. in various stages of dress or undress; wines, craft beers in gallon jugs, good quality local beer (the master prefers Pabst although he drank a few Guinness that night), ciders and other beverages of choice where liberally taken in and enjoyed by one and all.  Some guest drank out of shrunken skull cups!!!

 

The massive, solid-oak dining table, draped in a black cloth and adorned with a long, yellow table runner with witches and spider webs sewn into the fabric, was laden with appetizers--sparking crystal plates

• with cheeses; 
• 
  with meats; 
• with freshly baked pumpernickel beard covered in cream cheese and adorned with oysters, meats, or sweet onions; 
• another crystal plate with fresh mushrooms, carrots, radishes, cherry tomatoes and Thuringer meat slices.  
• Several dips, whose receipt only the chef knew (but many a guest asked what these delectable dishes contained) along with oven-baked chips, 
• cheezes, almonds and peanuts were all over the place, in easy reach of any hungry guest.  
• The 400 year old Mayer Winkler Austrian Salad, 
  
• a home made Fusilli salad 
• and the traditional Red Kraut (cabbage) complimented the food.

As the guests settled into boisterous conversation, the hall's peaceful gathering was suddenly shattered as a  preserved witches head, severed in the middle ages and kept in a large, round, glass ball, began to speak directly to specific members of our ski club --oh to the guest's horror! 

She gave Caesar, dressed in gold and the regal red sash across his snow-white toga, the warning to "Beware of The Ides of March" and cackled similar phrases to other guests.

In the bowels of the Chateau, one encountered a black tarantula whose legs were 7 feet long and moved these appendages up and down as it crawled toward you with red glowing eyes.  An imprisoned man, draped in a black gown, hung up-side down and screamed in agony while three one-armed bandits, filled with coins, let guests test their skill fighting the odds at gambling.

 
An aged, full-sized motorcycle graced the rear yard and was set off in another eerie green light while the rest of the tall evergreens, along the rear periphery, where set off in a blue light, ghouls and at least one demon hanging therefrom.

 

At 1 a.m. Caesar made the decree to have the musicians begin to play.  Trevor began on the Fender guitar, Sven on the Anjo while Tracey had the Maracas and Vania the wooden sticks. As the songs and music progressed through Rock and Roll, and into Irish tunes, Sven brought our his Les Paul and did Rocky Racoon while Trevor joined in with his guitar.  Tracey took up the Anjo so Sven brought out his Vantage VW-150 and the lively music and group singing (we were all in tune) went on until about 3 a.m.  

Then, a few guests headed home while the rest of us began another cocktail hour; as more left, the final four went down into the hot tub.

Yes, vampire bats, men hanging from the noose, a life-sized floating witch, large spiders and other ghosts-- some screaming; some silent, where throughout the hot tub area.

 

Sadly, by four a.m. the last guests left and the night began to wane.  Only the fog remained and the light wind rustled through the silent headstones to breath an unearthly sound into that lonely place, reminiscent to a sad moan--a childless woman wailing for her unborn daughter perhaps?  

This was a fitting way to leave the Chateau Von Stefan at 04:07 that fateful night

 

WHAT A BLAST!!!!