In the 1960s in Gonzales, Louisiana, teenagers would dare each other to drive out to Roddy Road at night, where they would stop their cars and turn off all the lights. And occasionally, a headlight-sized glow would emerge, blinking on and off, on and off, slowly levitating toward them . . .
There isn’t much information available on the phenomenon that is the “Gonzales Ghost Light” besides a few online postings—the most detailed of which appears on Lane Casteix’s blog, Catahoula Chronicles. As a high schooler in 1962, he went to see the light with his friends multiple times. He describes how “It changed from red to blue to green and various colors and back again. It was fairly small in size; I would guess a bit larger than a basketball . . . It was not well defined but it wasn’t a vague shape either.”
One time, they drove closer to try and determine where the light was coming from, suspecting that it may have been another car’s headlight, but they found nothing there. Suddenly, the light charged towards them and scared them away.
Another witness, Willis Tanner, commented under Cateix’s blog: “I don’t remember ever going and not seeing them. On a few occasions, the light would pass through the car. But through the years, the development of the area made it impossible to go park on the road with our headlights off.”
"When people see something unnatural, the natural reaction is either to be afraid of it or to try and explain it. Without the shield of technology, early Louisianans and other cultures in the past were surrounded by legends like the feu follet. Whether literally or metaphorically, they lived closer to magic, and they lived closer to danger."
The Gonzales Light isn’t the first of its kind; Cajuns have been passing down information on the phenomena of ghostly lights since their earliest years in Louisiana—often referring to them as “feu follet,” which translates to “marsh fire” or “crazy fire”. The lore describes them much like the Gonzales Light—bright orbs that move and flicker deep in the swamp after sunfall. Supposedly, they try to lead people deep into the woods, or to their deaths.
One of the earliest documents on Cajun people, the “Breaux Manuscript” (1901), includes the tale of a young man who encountered a feu follet:
We have heard tell that some sixty years ago (c. 1840) a young man returning to his father's house at Chacahoula was preceded by a light which had suddenly sprung from a bramble patch in a form resembling a lamp. It dazzled him completely; he did not know where his footsteps took him, and was led by the light to the edge of a large swamp with rather deep water. Suspecting that he was being drawn on by a follet, he had the presence of mind to throw his hat on the little lake. Immediately the follet jumped on it. At that moment the young man realized where he was and what had happened. He returned to his father's possessed by an inexpressible fear and expressed the cause of his concern only with the greatest difficulty. The next day at dawn, he returned to the swamp and saw there his hat still floating on the water."
Another common way to repel the lights is by sticking a knife or a fence post in the ground. Or, according to blogger Cole Kinchen, one can try to pass the light through the eye of a needle.
Bilbo Cemetery in Lake Charles is another place of frequent sightings; over the years, there have been multiple reports about ghost lights floating around the gravestones after dark. Google the term “spooklights,” and you can find examples from across the US, including in our neighboring state, Texas, where the Marfa Lights have mystified visitors for years. While in South Louisiana, such wonders are referred to as the feu follet, other cultures each have their own names for the mysterious lights, from the German Irrwisch to the Japanese Hitodama. A more familiar name is the English will-o’-the-wisp, or the Irish Jack o’ Lantern. In these tales, both Will and Jack are men who were exiled from heaven and doomed to wander the Earth with just a burning ember to guide them.
Per Cajun lore, the feu follet are believed to be the souls of unbaptized babies who passed away. Occasionally, they are referred to as lost souls of the dead in general—those like Will and Jack who were banned from heaven and then take vengeance on Earth. Some folklorists categorize the lights as vampires, since in some myths they are rumored to suck children’s blood. People have also historically referred to them as “swamp fairies,” which suggests a whole other world of meanings.
Finally, there’s the scientific explanation: swamp gas. This happens when pockets of phosphine or other gases meet with oxygen and form a chemical reaction, which creates light. The gases form from organic decay beneath the ground or water. So yeah, some of these light sightings around the world are likely to be swamp or marsh gas—especially when they’re close to the ground and stay relatively in one place. But the Gonzales Light is undeniably different. It has always been described as large, easily identifiable, and seems to move closer to its viewers.
Also eluding the swamp gas theories are the more famous Marfa Lights, which have attracted much scientific attention over the years. In Cowboys, Cops, Killers, and Ghosts: Legends and Lore in Texas, Stephanie Mateum describes how the Marfa Lights could move spontaneously and change colors, just like the Gonzales Light. The theory of headlights was eliminated, and there is no swampy area nearby for gas reactions. Though scientists have proposed various theories, a confirmed one with clear evidence is yet to emerge…and perhaps never will.
[Read this: "The legend of Pachafa"]
When people see something unnatural, the natural reaction is either to be afraid of it or to try and explain it. Without the shield of technology, early Louisianans and other cultures in the past were surrounded by legends like the feu follet. Whether literally or metaphorically, they lived closer to magic, and they lived closer to danger. They had to approach such situations with the utmost caution and respect. Today, we can disconnect, and we can joust with rationality. Progress has stifled our sense of the mystical and harnessed the order of the natural world; so too has access to the Gonzales Ghost Light been blocked off. As much as we can speculate over its “true” explanations, it will likely always remain a mystery.
