St. Catharines Standard - Saturday October 30, 1999

UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA FORT GEORGE PROJECT A REPORTER'S NIGHT ALONE IN THIS HAUNTED HISTORIC EDIFICE REVEALED SOME CHILLING RESULTS!

A NIAGARA CLOSE-UP By DON FRASER

On October 18, Standard reporter Don Fraser spent the night in Blockhouse 2 inside 200-year-old Fort George to investigate rumours of ghost sightings. Some say it is one of Canada's most haunted places. The next day, his notepad and tape were found. Here is what they contained:

6:50 p.m.

I'm alone on a half-moon night in Niagara-on-the-Lake. It's close to freezing and a mid-October mist wets the air. Shivering inside the front gate, I'm wondering what idiot would agree to spend a night inside these barracks. Anyway, I don't believe in ghosts. But I admit Fort George is plenty foreboding when its features melt into the dusk and the blockhouses become a Halloween silhouette.

7:10 p.m.

I have arranged a group tour before my sleepover. Five ghost-stalkers convene at last on the grassy commons area and begin the safari.

Leading the troop is Kyle Upton, who runs a popular fort night walk called Ghost Tours of Niagara.

Tagging along is Toronto psychic David LeFort, Rob McConnell of CKTB St. Catharines paranormal radio show the X-Zone and Chris Zoetewey, fort site supervisor.

I've already learned that Fort George is one of the most haunted places in Canada from Option's book Niagara's Ghosts at Fort George.

Visitors and workers have long-reported spirits, faces in windows and slamming doors. On one hairy day, to even complained to Upton of ghostly physical assaults.

As I walk the fort's pathway, I snicker at those misguided masses and their fat imaginations.

That's when in the corner of my eye I think I see a shadow pass it to the left. I wonder what it might be, but the moment passes quickly.

"People fought here, people died here," explains Upton, wide-eyed and dressed for tonight's occasion like a Biway Count Dracula.

If Upton and dozens of eyewitnesses at Fort George were telling the truth, I should prepare for a platoon of ghosts.

My eventual sleeping quarters is on the second level of sprawling, Blockhouse 2, one of Fort George's most spooked buildings.

These grey barracks are the haunting grounds for at least two spirits who manifest themselves in human form.

A mischievous one has been dubbed Iriving; the other Sarahann, a little blond girl with a flowing gown. Sarahann is said to be the spirit of a child who died July 19, 1840, and was buried near St. Mark's Anglican Church on Byron Street.

She is said to continue midnight strolls at the fort.

There are other incidents: In 1985, a 12-centimetre-thick door unlatched on the second floor of Blockhouse 2. The door flew open and slammed against the wall. Witnessing this were 16 Fort George student trainees.

After a stunned silence, they laughed and thought they had been had. A check revealed there was no one on the other side.

The tales continue for the next hour, but I remain unconvinced.

BLOCKHOUSE 2 7:30 p.m.

I sniff inside. It reeks of ancient timber and must. With Option's lantern guiding the way, we huddle through a supply depot filled with armaments and mount the scuffed wood stairs.

This second level contains two sprawling rooms with rows of bunk beds. Each has a thin mattress and wood slats for a bottom frame.

The place is dark - until you open the loopholes overlooking cannons poised to blow holes in Youngstown, N.Y., across the Niagara River.

It's a grim environment In the original quarters, Zoetewey says, soldiers slept on straw mattresses. In the far section below, some of the soldiers lived with their families.

Some, he believes, may still inhabit the quarters.

Zoetewey tells us he once heard footsteps travel across the formerly closed second level of Blockhouse 2. He checked, but found no one there.

At one time, some of Option's ghost tour visitors chased what appeared to be the incarnation of Irving. The spirit was playing hide-and-seek behind one of the bunk beds.

Our crew pauses over the bed I've chosen for the night. Psychic LeFort freezes and asks if anyone has been hanged there.

None that Zoetewey or Upton heard about, but it could have been the quarters for some very diseased soldiers.

"Oh great and it just has to be right here," I think, now feeling a little uneasy.

8:02 p.m.

The tour winds its way to the rear of the fort where the artificer's shop and powder magazine building stand.

The lower area is unsettling. It sinks behind a beam like an unwanted animal. It makes visitors uneasy and sends psychics reeling. One woman even suffered an invisible punch near the tunnel, Upton claims.

It's getting late. My comrades are getting anxious to get home. McConnell is making annoying sounds with his wind-up flashlight; Zoetewey wants to tuck in his kids for the night.

LeFort, parting, says not to worry, "I think they're going to sit back tonight."

I wonder about LeFort. Earlier, he sensed "water… maybe bottled water" was we paced inside the tunnel.

My brain is feverish, I wave at my departing friends and set up camp on my horrible wood-plank bed. ON THE BLOCKHOUSE BUNKED 8:30 p.m. Separated from the party, I feel like the only living human on earth.

In the already deep darkness, it occurs to me that nearly to centuries ago as many as 100 fighting soldiers were trying to snooze before the hell of battle. They were even likely more scared and miserable than me.

I pore over Option's book with my flickering flashlight and try not to peek around.

8:45 p.m.

The air fills with dread. My heart's beating uncomfortably fast and I just started at the sight of a moth.

I'm trying to eat a tuna sandwich, but even the echo of my smacking lips is freaking me out.

10:00 p.m.

Unmistakable sound of screaming and howling outside. I freeze and my heart keeps pounding. What is this? Where am I?

After a few moments of being paralyzed with fear, I sigh and continue reading Option's stories about ghost haunting this very floor. I continue reading for hours.

ACT 19 1:10 a.m.

Courage temporarily restored, I've just finished the book. Took flashlight photo's of my bunk-bed and recorded the noiseless air around me. I'm probing for ghostly messages.

I listened back to what I taped. There's a sawing sound that rises in intensity over 50 seconds - there was silence when I recorded.

Need to pee, but am too scared to descend the pitch-black stairs, then cross the commons to the washroom. Going to try to snooze.

5:50 a.m.

Woke up for the second time to the sound of boots clumping up the staircase. In the second incident, the sound continued for about 15 seconds after I opened my eyes.

I curl up under the sleeping bag. "Kyle, Kyle, are you doing that?" I shout.

Have already barred the door from the inside. There's no one else who could be in here. How odd.

6:15 a.m.

Slept fitfully. I'm tired, hungry and want to be in the cocoon of my own room. When will daylight come? God, the night seems to drag on for…..

Editor's note: Don Eraser's notes end abruptly at this point.

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