St. Patrick’s Day
Today I was up writing by 6:30am. I never heard from my enthusiastic train buddies from about an evening seance last night. I slept well and am sorry to report no supernatural activity. (I did hear from them later about doing the seance tonight. More below).
I stopped writing around 8:30am to go for a 10-mile run “up canyon” as they say in these here parts, into the White River National Forest.
I concluded by running directly to Glenwood Springs’ famed Yampah Vapor Caves, a natural steamy sauna in a small series of cavernous rooms just beneath street level. These are the only known natural vapor caves in North America; the rest are manmade.
The Utes were aware of these caves for hundreds of years before whitey showed up, and used them to heat their nearby above-ground sweat lodges. They even cut a hole into a hillside so that sick people could be lowered down into the caves to experience their healing powers. The experience of lying in a hot, dark, silent, steamy cave staring up at a cavernous ceiling with a faint smell of rotten eggs (that would be the sulfur content of the vapor) was surreal but soothing, especially after a long run.
Next I drove a short distance from the hotel and hiked a half-mile uphill to visit Lynwood Cemetery, final resting place of gunslingers Doc Holliday and Kid Curry, before holing up in my room to write awhile before dinner.
It was then that I heard from the Warren-Powell family (Tammy, Rick, “Fallen Angel” Cody, Cameron, Madison and Claire). We met up for dinner at the Fiesta Guadalajara restaurant for Mexican food, which I now know goes great with scotch. We swapped more ghost stories (I swear this is the most haunted family I have ever encountered, even the youngest — and they love it). The grandparents and I wrapped up dinner with a shot of Cuervo (hey, it was their idea so it would have been rude of me to decline) and drifted back to my place.
As soon as we entered my room the family all fanned out, whipped out tablets and smartphones and began snapping away at every square inch of the place. I told them not to bother as I had already done that and seen nothing unusual. The words were barely out of my mouth when Cody interrupted. “You’ve got a little boy in the bathroom.”
Huh? Sure enough on the pic he had just snapped we could make out what seemed to be the shadow of a small figure leaning halfway in the bathroom doorway, right where we were standing, yet it wasn’t anything visible to the naked eye. Are you getting chills yet? I was. As soon as I get their photos I’ll add them here.
I pulled a small, round table, which seemed made for a seance, away from the wall. I sat down and made a homemade Ouija board hearkening back to my teenage days simply by writing the letters, numbers, and yes and no on a blank sheet of paper. For a planchette I used a credit card turned upside down. The raised letters give it a very small surface area. One corner of the credit card we designated the pointer. Cody and I sat down together first and didn’t have much luck. I stepped out and let Cameron take my place. The planchette still wouldn’t budge, so then it was Cameron and me. That combination of partners got it moving.
We spoke to someone who referred to him/herself with initials A T who said he/she was a U T E (the original inhabitants of this area) aged 8 0. I asked if it lived in the hotel and it said N O. So what brought it here tonight? Y O U. Oh, so you heard my call at the top of the session to speak to someone friendly who felt like chatting? Y E S. Where were you before that? It tried spelling something but we couldn’t make out the answer. Did we annoy you, are you angry that we summoned you? N O. Would you like to speak with us electrically? Y E S.
I ran over and fired up the P-SB7 spirit box and aimed my camera at it to record the audio, just like the audience and I do at every conclusion of Boneyards while Madison took over for me at the Ouija board. Moments later we all heard the spirit box shout “CHILD” just as A T handed the board over to a new presence. I A M LEE. Your name is Lee? Y E S.
Naturally the only conclusion we could draw is that this was the same little boy whom Cody had photographed in the bathroom. At one point we asked where he was standing and he spelled B E H I N D M A D I S O N, which would indeed put him in the bathroom doorway and next to me. We asked Lee why he was in the hotel and he spelled out F A I M but we couldn’t get him to elaborate. Cody pointed out that faim in French means hunger or starvation.
Meanwhile the P-SB7 was really cooking. As soon as I’ve analyzed the raw video I’ll post it along with Cody and Cameron’s photos [UPDATE 4/2/15: HERE THEY ARE] but for now I can tell you we also heard it shout out “CAMERON” and “I’M HERE.”
The mood overall was positive. AT and Lee turned out to be cool, and as curious and eager as we were to communicate. After we concluded the session Cameron snapped another photo and found in the mirror’s reflection the image of small boy hiding in the corner right near my bed peeking out at us from around the chest of drawers. Great, I thought. I have to sleep here tonight.
Cameron and Cody snapped a few other pix in my room and up and down the hallway. I told them to email all of them to me but that I wouldn’t look at them until after I was safely on the train tomorrow.
I’ll admit I was a little wide-eyed and my hair stood on end for the next two hours after they left but it was nothing a little late night TV, especially South Park, didn’t cure. The ghosts must have enjoyed the shows, too, because they settled down and all was quiet for the night. Nice folks, that Lee and AT. Ditto the Warren-Powell family.