Australia: Ghostly Pursuit

From the Canberra Times: Ghostly pursuit

Old Bywong Town is a creepy place to be seeking spirits on an unusually chilly night.

Low clouds race furiously across a shallow sky. I've never seen clouds move so fast. It's as if they're running from something. All around me, tall dead grass blows forlornly in the wind as the cold change approaches. It's eerie, and the tour hasn't even started.

Braving the conditions and sitting on a piece of old machinery out the front of historic Bywong Town, Canberra-based ghost hunter Jo Howard is deep in contemplation. She's a ghost aficionado who has been on many tours around Australia in her quest to experience the paranormal and tonight she is joining me on the inaugural ghost tour of this old gold mining town, just north of the ACT border.

''I've heard all sorts of stories about this place,'' whispers Jo, and she pulls her beanie down lower to protect herself from the howling wind. It's also unseasonably cold, so we're both relieved when the bus carrying the rest of the tour participants finally arrives from Goulburn.

Inside the locked gates we meet our guides for the night, Louise Heatherbrae and her paranormal investigator, Bobbi. If you see a shadow, or hear something go bump in the night, its Bobbi's job to come running. And no, she isn't wearing overalls or sporting an ectoplasm vacuum backpack, but she does have gear, and plenty of it.

While Louise and Bobbi unpack their ghost-hunting kits, the rest of us head off on a sortie. The sun has well and truly set and the dark clouds have got even lower, shrouding the ghost town in a miserable mizzle. My weak torchlight lances through the night air. Ghost gums flank me on either side. Jo's already snapping photos, hoping to catch an obscure orb or inexplicable vision.

As I creep around (read: stumble over) the old humpies, I fall victim to the dreaded heebie jeebies not once, but twice. The first is when my light shines on a sleeping mannequin partially hidden beneath a sheet of canvas, and the other when I illuminate a row of weathered saddles and other tack at the old saddlery. At first glance they resemble human skeletons dangling from the rafters; at least in this highly charged atmosphere they do.

As if that's not enough, as I look over my shoulder to see what the scratching noise is behind me (turns out to be a possum), I come face to face with a moss-encrusted ram skull nailed on a tree like some wanted poster. This is Texas Chainsaw Massacre meets Blair Witch Project. Even the landscape looks harsh, despite recent rain the ground is seemingly devoid of vegetation. It's as if it's had the life sucked out of it.

''Everyone back to base,'' Louise's crackly voice cuts through the moist night air as the wind drops and the drizzle sets in. Back at base there's a head count. There's eight of us. Well, that's eight of the flesh and blood kind. ''We often encounter the odd phantom wandering through here,'' deadpans Louise, the flickering lantern picking up the seriousness on her face.

We line up and are issued with our ghost-detecting equipment. There's got to be more surveillance equipment here than the cops used in the recent hunt for fugitive Malcolm Naden. These include small video cameras that look like torches (presumably to trick the camera-shy ghosts into showing themselves), EMF meters that apparently measure magnetic/electrical fields and digital audio recorders to capture those ghosties who are up for a chat. There are also ghost boxes which, according to Bobbi, ''allow people to have conversations with spirits''.

Just before we set off, we're also all issued with a handful of barley sugars. ''I'll explain why later,'' Louise advises mysteriously. I just hope I won't be staking out a 120-year-old humpy so long that I'll need barely sugar for sustenance. Not in this weather anyway. With military precision we fan out in V formation through the old town. If a sleeping wallaby 200 metres away near as passes wind, I'm confident that our gear will pick it up. Among all the humpies is a relatively stately looking cottage. ''This was the best home in the village,'' says Louise, as we enter through the obligatory creaking door. I prepare to wipe away the otherwise ubiquitous spider webs and dust. However, inside it's near spotless. An old ram's skull nailed to a tree at Old Bywong Town. Photo: Tim the Yowie Man ''People speak about a woman seen in here sweeping and psychics have contacted a woman in the building who is believed to be very house proud,'' says Louise, who explains that despite the fact this cottage is never cleaned it remains spick and span. Great - a house-cleaning ghost. Now, that's one I wouldn't mind haunting my home. Outside the ''clean house'', Lizzie McIntosh, a paranormal enthusiast from Braidwood, thinks she's heard some footsteps. Bobbi rushes over and studiously listens back on the digital recorder. ''It's too hard to call,'' is her initial verdict. Apparently it's not the first time steps have been heard in this part of the village. ''These footsteps are believed to be what we call residual haunting,'' explains Louise. ''That is where energy from the living has been left behind and repeats day-to-day activities.'' ''These hauntings are not believed to be intelligent and you cannot interact with them and nothing stops the haunting until the energy fades,'' adds Bobbi, listening to the recording again. The phantom footsteps aren't the only hauntings here at old Bywong. According to Louise and Bobbi, there is a veritable gaggle of ghosts here. Some even have names, like the ghost of Nicholas Harrison who walks the deserted gold mines. There are two stories surrounding Nicholas's untimely death. One is that he was a gold thief and when chased one night plunged to his death down a mine shaft. Another version is that Nicholas was wrongly accused of thieving gold and his business partner murdered him by pushing him down a shaft. Suddenly, we hear a thud on the track behind us. I quickly look over my shoulder. Lizzie points her camera in the direction of the noise and clicks way. Quite possibly it's a roo. What else can it be? We gather around her camera to look. In the centre of the frame is some sort of shadowy figure. We all pour over the image. ''It appears to be a man wearing long strides and a long sleeved shirt, black thick belt and a cowboy style hat, similar to what the old gold miners used to wear,'' agree Louise and Lizzie. Is it just the drizzle and the light from our torches playing havoc with the shadows or has Lizzie genuinely caught the image of ghost of an old miner? We push on, with a renewed sense that we might not be alone. At the old post office, Louise asks us to pull out our lollies. I reach into my pocket. Eew! My hand is plastered with a sticky gooey substance. I wish I could say it's the errant ectoplasm of a ghost, but alas it's just my melted barley sugar, placed a little too close to my body heat (perhaps raised by my heightened nervousness?). Not wanting to reveal the embarrassing stickiness, I pretend to slip a lollie in my mouth while feverishly attempting to lick my fingers clean. ''We like to use triggers which are used to entice ghosts to interact with us - items that a ghost may be familiar with, something from their era or perhaps an item they may have used,'' explains Louise. ''Barley sugar and toffees would have been a treat for the children and also the men who toiled here.'' But no ghosts or ghouls show up. However, the annoying mizzle does get a little heavier, causing more droplets of water to drip off the trees, resulting in even more nervous glances over our shoulders. A short trek out of the village proper is a billabong. Here gnarly trees and thick reeds hide a hotbed of ghostly activity. Tales of yowies and bunyips also abound. ''Many visitors have reported seeing an elderly man and a young boy fishing from the billabong in period costume,'' says Louise. ''Thinking it is actors in for the tours, people have approached to discover the people just vanish.'' My neck is a little stiff from far too many sudden looks over my shoulder, so I'm quite thankful that a puzzling ''plonk'' in the water is right in front of me. I grab my torch. What can it be? A bunyip on a late-night feeding foray? It turns out to be a duck going for a midnight dip, not that it stops a frenzy of clicking cameras from the tour's posse of true believers. Who knows, maybe they hope it's a ghost duck? If ever there was a location tailor-made for a ghost tour, this has got to be it. Creepy atmosphere, informative guides, peculiar props, spooky stories and close proximity to Canberra. My only word of advice is, if you go and you've got a nervous disposition, do some neck exercises first. Oh, and also be careful where you stash your lollies. FACT FILE Old Bywong Town Ghost Tours: These three-hour plus paranormal investigations run every couple of weeks or so. Next tour is on Friday, April 13, so paraskevidekatriaphobes (fear of Friday the 13th) beware! Bookings essential: spooky@spiritchasers.com.au or (02) 4822 8808. Cost: from $65 per person. Bywong is a 30-minute drive north of Canberra. More: www.spiritchasers.com.au Did You Know: The gold mining town of Bywong was at its peak from 1894 through to 1906