We were looking to celebrate the 25th anniversary of our wedding when we found a website for the Columbia Gorge Hotel which had something that piqued our interest, under Events: a night researching paranormal activity including entering parts of the hotel not open to the public.
We knew nothing about the IPRG (even what the initials stood for--International Paranormal Reporting Group), but it sounded like fun, especially exploring "the darkest corners of the hotel." It definitely would be something we had not done before.
We left the ranch Saturday morning, stopped at Troutdale antique malls, drove historic Route 30 up the gorge, a highway constructed between 1913 and 1922--the first in the U.S. designed primarily for scenic purposes.
We stopped at Crown Point to look at Vista House, not yet open for the season
but we could look through the glass doors to see what we were missing,
and we still had the vista. The weather was typical Oregon sunshine: misty rain, clouds and fog but we could see for miles.
The road was nice: narrow, curvy, up and down, trees crowding and overhanging, stone wall on the outside, not much traffic. We stopped at some of the falls such as Horsetail, but skipped Multnomah since we had been there recently.
We arrived at the hotel about 3:30. The site at the top of the 208-foot Wah Gwin Gwin falls has had a hotel on it since 1904 (a multi-million dollar restoration began in 1977), but for 25 years it was a retirement home run by Neighbors of Woodcraft so there were probably a number of incidents to provide fodder for the IPRG investigation.
From the outside, the complex looked interesting: stucco walls, Spanish tile roofs, tower topped with octagonal room, a garden in front with paths and winding stream, in the back the falls and the cliff overlooking the Columbia.
We checked in and rode an old fashioned cage elevator operated by the bellboy. The long halls seemed like a set from The Shining.
In our room we found on the bed instead of chocolates "A Ghostly Getaway" schedule and The Everything Ghost Hunting Book by Melissa Martin Ellis.
In the four hours until the "meet & greet" we explored the grounds, photographed the ducks and in the lounge relaxed with cocktails and cheese and crackers, then at six in "Simon's Cliff House" (the name of the hotel restaurant) we started a scrumptious supper: a bottle of Columbia Gorge Hotel label champagne, a lovely brie en croute to start, seared sushi grade tuna for Deb, lobster ravioli for me, and for dessert I had a tiramisu cake and Deb a chocolate cupcake with chocolate syrup. Yum.
At 8 in the Benson Ballroom, we found IPRG members in black tee-shirts with their logo, and others like ourselves there for the hunt. The leaders distributed flyers and explained the protocol for the evening. There were four areas in the hotel to investigate, four groups each with two IPRG members would spend an hour in each area, everyone had to have buddy and for safety no one was to go anywhere without the buddy. Equipment included infra-red cameras, audio recorders sensitive enough "to record a gnat fart" (according to one member), and electro-magnetic field readers that also indicated temperature. One member of each group was chosen to document the time and nature of each event experienced which later would be compared to electronic data for verification. The IPRG investigators stressed that their procedures were scientific.
Our first assignment was room 330 (down the hall from the room we were staying in). At brunch next morning, we were told that one of the two investors who started the refurbishing in '77 had stayed in 330 and found his suitcases moved from the bed to block the door from the inside when no one else was in the deserted hotel. He left and never returned. (We had not been informed to prevent our being influenced, we were told, part of the "double blind scientific" procedure.) Eight of us--Mike and Jules (the IPRG investigators) and six tagalongs--crowded into the darkened room, and told to sit or stand quietly to get accustomed to the surrounding. Enough light came through the blinds that I could make out shapes. After fifteen minutes, or so, Mike began explaining to the dark why were were there and that we were no threat, and then he began asking questions, waiting after each for an answer which he hoped would later be found on the super sensitive recorder, questions such as: "Why are you staying here? Do you like it here? Do you know who the president is? Please knock on the wall." No answer that I could hear. Then a tagalong said he though he saw a shadow standing next to another. The recorder wrote the time and observation on the event log. Another said he thought he saw a light by the foot of another. I saw a spark, which I said looked like static electricity. The event was recorded. A tagalong said she thought the bed moved. The event was recorded.
After an hour, we moved to our next assignment, which had once been a swimming pool but was now filled in to become the ballroom, to sit in the dark and repeat the procedure.
Again there were no discernible answers to the questions. Deb took the EMF reader and checked the walls. It spiked at one point (on the other side a circuit breaker box). Our third assignment was what Mike called the dungeon, a part of the basement used for storage. As we trooped toward it, we passed a walk-in cooler where, Mike told us, bodies were kept during the retirement house days. Most interesting to me in the dungeon was what looked like two large hammered copper cooking pots, but the in dark I couldn't be sure. The photos, because of the flash, show more than I could see but missed the pots.
About midnight I was ready to call it quits (and later learned that Deb was of the same mind) even though the next assignment was the attic. Then Jules said we would make a stop in the tower, which I wanted to see. The next day we learned that in the hotel's earlier heyday, a reluctant bride in her gown had thrown herself off the tower and later a "lady in white" from time to time was seen walking the parapet. In the dark, we wound round and round the stairs
but could not see much except for an interesting light fixture at the top that no one sees because the stairway is locked.
The part of the attic we explored was long, narrow, and cold, filled with stored stuff, but as free of spirit life as the rest of the evening.
Bed felt good.
Sunday morning, we ate a lovely seven course brunch and listened as IPRG members provided back stories for the investigation. Tagalongs told of their experiences: shadows seen, lights in the dark, bed movement, cold spots.
We drove the Interstate home, and stopped at Bonneville dam to see the fish ladders. There were no fish. This time of year the ladders are closed for maintenance.
We left the ranch Saturday morning, stopped at Troutdale antique malls, drove historic Route 30 up the gorge, a highway constructed between 1913 and 1922--the first in the U.S. designed primarily for scenic purposes.
At 8 in the Benson Ballroom, we found IPRG members in black tee-shirts with their logo, and others like ourselves there for the hunt. The leaders distributed flyers and explained the protocol for the evening. There were four areas in the hotel to investigate, four groups each with two IPRG members would spend an hour in each area, everyone had to have buddy and for safety no one was to go anywhere without the buddy. Equipment included infra-red cameras, audio recorders sensitive enough "to record a gnat fart" (according to one member), and electro-magnetic field readers that also indicated temperature. One member of each group was chosen to document the time and nature of each event experienced which later would be compared to electronic data for verification. The IPRG investigators stressed that their procedures were scientific.
Our first assignment was room 330 (down the hall from the room we were staying in). At brunch next morning, we were told that one of the two investors who started the refurbishing in '77 had stayed in 330 and found his suitcases moved from the bed to block the door from the inside when no one else was in the deserted hotel. He left and never returned. (We had not been informed to prevent our being influenced, we were told, part of the "double blind scientific" procedure.) Eight of us--Mike and Jules (the IPRG investigators) and six tagalongs--crowded into the darkened room, and told to sit or stand quietly to get accustomed to the surrounding. Enough light came through the blinds that I could make out shapes. After fifteen minutes, or so, Mike began explaining to the dark why were were there and that we were no threat, and then he began asking questions, waiting after each for an answer which he hoped would later be found on the super sensitive recorder, questions such as: "Why are you staying here? Do you like it here? Do you know who the president is? Please knock on the wall." No answer that I could hear. Then a tagalong said he though he saw a shadow standing next to another. The recorder wrote the time and observation on the event log. Another said he thought he saw a light by the foot of another. I saw a spark, which I said looked like static electricity. The event was recorded. A tagalong said she thought the bed moved. The event was recorded.
After an hour, we moved to our next assignment, which had once been a swimming pool but was now filled in to become the ballroom, to sit in the dark and repeat the procedure.
Sunday morning, we ate a lovely seven course brunch and listened as IPRG members provided back stories for the investigation. Tagalongs told of their experiences: shadows seen, lights in the dark, bed movement, cold spots.
We drove the Interstate home, and stopped at Bonneville dam to see the fish ladders. There were no fish. This time of year the ladders are closed for maintenance.
