The Spooky Side of Britain
Jane Emson
Vancouver Sun

In a hotel on the heights of Bodmin Moor, a woman walks out of a mirror,
crosses a room, and disappears through the wall.
In the the middle of the night a hotel guest in Cornwall wakes up and
sees what she believes is a pole lamp silhouetted against the window. To
her horror, the "lamp" moves, and she realizes it is the figure of a
woman dressed in black, walking towards her bed.

In the Long Gallery, at Hampton Court Palace, a lagging tourist is
shocked to see the spectre of one of Henry VIII's beheaded wives running
ahead of her captors towards a door, screaming "Henry, Henry, Henry!"

Welcome to haunted Britain.
In this ancient nation there's no escaping spectres. From King Arthur,
at a remote and massive stone monument in the middle of the countryside,
to black dogs running down the alleyways of inner London, they are
everywhere.
There are ghost tube stations that the Underground whisks past without
stopping, alleyways and pubs frequented by tourists on "Jack the Ripper"
walks through London's byways.

There are ghosts at Stonehenge and ghosts without number at the stone
circles, monoliths, and ancient monuments that dot the British Isles
from Scotland to the heel of Cornwall.
There are ghosts in hotels, castles and towers easily accessible to the
public.
And there's no better time to try spotting them than the fall, when
tourist crowds diminish and high-season prices drop.

October is a haunted month. Children in North America look forward to
Halloween. And October was the month my cousin chose to get married, in
an incredibly ancient (and probably also haunted) church in Cornwall.
Family in Canada were delighted to attend, but I worried about the
really trivial issue of taking my 11-year-old son away for Oct. 31. I
feared a family wedding might not be enough of a substitute for costumes
and candy, so I offered the ultimate lure for pre-teen boys . . .
Haunted Britain.

For the sake of a good night's rest we reserved a room at a clean and
reliable hotel in London's Kensington, where they obligingly let us
sleep off our monstrous case of jet lag. The bonus of jet lag coming
from North America is, when the rest of respectable London is going to
bed, you are at your most wide-awake and alert. The timing is perfect
for hunting down ghosts.

I feared the Jack the Ripper tour offered by London Walks might be too
gruesome for an 11-year-old, but it turned out to be perfect. My son
delighted in following the guide past notorious pubs, under archways and
into squares where we were told, in grisly detail, about the Ripper's
crimes. I spared a moment of sympathy for those who live on these
streets, and are forced to listen, night after night, to the reiteration
of the gruesome stories. Still, my son and I were riveted, and happy to
be expertly guided back to a well-lit Underground station and taxi stand
when the tour was all over.

My son's first choice of attractions was The Tower of London. We
travelled by transit pass, a cheap option where he had the
responsibility of pocketing the tickets and figuring out the route. In
no time at all he had mastered the Tube, and whisked us off to Tower
Hill, as soon as the morning rush hour deadline on our tickets had
passed.

Nothing beats the audio tour at the Tower of London. I suppose if you
lived in Britain, and could research historical details, those stones
would speak; but, otherwise, letting a guide speak for them adds a whole
new dimension to the visit. And many Londoners have, believe it or not,
never been to the Tower. Pity them, for it's a rich source of history. .
. and ghosts.

We shivered at the words of the captives, gazed mesmerized at the block
where heads were chopped off, and listened in sombre silence to the
story of the two little princes who disappeared, boys close to my son's
own age.
But the moment when history reached out and touched him, was when we
stood at a window in the Beauchamp Tower and he traced, over the plastic
covering, the engraving of Lady Jane Grey's name, carved into the stone
overlooking the square where she expected to meet her death.
He said nothing as he stared, riveted, at the block below the window,
listening to the words of a doomed teenage girl, England's Nine Day
Queen.

After a few days in London, we headed off to Cornwall for the family
wedding and a haunted hotel.
The Longcross is a beautifully restored house, a few miles outside the
scenic village of Port Isaac. It has an ancient cross in the extensive
gardens, comfortable rooms, excellent food, a welcoming pub, and views
that spread across the fields down to the sea.
And, of course, a ghost. We didn't find out about her until our last
night, when all the other guests had gone and it transpired my father,
sister, son and I were the only people left in the whole house.

We had, quite sensibly, put the heaviest sleeper in the most haunted
room. My father was in the bow-windowed bedroom on the second floor. It
was here we heard that, several years ago, a woman and her husband were
sleeping when the husband woke up in the middle of the night and needed
to use the bathroom. His wife, lying awake, looked toward the window and
saw the silhouette of the lamp. And then remembered that there was no
lamp, and looked again, and saw the figure of a woman approaching the
bed.

The couple allegedly spent the rest of the night in their car in the
parking lot, and fled the next day. My father, who could sleep for
Canada if sleeping were an Olympic sport, professed to have had a
restful slumber undisturbed by elderly stick-thin women walking towards
his bed. The whole hotel has been extensively modernized and refurbished
since the incident. Still, I wondered.

While we stayed at the Longcross, we made a daytrip to the ruins of
Tintagel, the castle where King Arthur was allegedly conceived under the
influence of a mysterious spell. Blessed with blue skies and a blustery
day, we left our car in the parking lot at the top of the cliff and
caught a bus down the steep slope, and then trekked across the causeway
out to what is really a windswept island, dotted with the stone walls
and fallen towers of a former fortress. We clambered around fallen-down
gardens, gazed into an ancient well, and shivered in the wind off the
Atlantic. But we really shivered at the foundations of prehistoric
dwellings clustered on the side of the cliff. What ghosts might wander
here, spectres of those who lived their lives in this barren
outcropping, if one were forced to spend the night?

From Cornwall, we drove back across the bottom of Britain towards
Plymouth. As compensation for missing Halloween in North America, I had
promised my son that we would spend Oct. 31 in one of the most haunted
hotels in England. And so, as dusk descended, we crawled up the heights
of Bodmin Moor towards Jamaica Inn.
Jamaica Inn was made famous by Daphne DuMaurier in her novel of the same
name, a tale of smugglers and subterfuge, violence, betrayal and death.

And there was little fictitious about her setting; Jamaica Inn is indeed
a historic smugglers inn. Built in 1750, it was a waystation for
smugglers bringing contraband goods from the coasts of Devon and
Cornwall inland to the rest of Britain.
Allegedly DuMaurier stayed at the hotel on a holiday and got lost while
out riding on a pony. The experience of being lost in the mist so
unnerved and inspired her that she set her next novel there.

A painting that imagines the scene of smugglers carrying their loot into
the old stone building was all too real as we pulled into the parking
lot, the rain lashing down on the cobbles and the clouds obscuring the
moors.
Fortunately, the outside of Jamaica Inn and the inside are two different
worlds. We were welcomed into a cosy bar with a massive fireplace, given
food and drink, and guided to modernized rooms with everything one could
ask for, including a flat-screen TV. Perfect, as my son pointed out, for
watching the BBC's 100 best moments in horror films, which was being
broadcast that night.

Jamaica Inn plays on its literary popularity. A popular summer stop for
British coach tours, it has a huge restaurant and souvenir shop, as well
as a museum and a rather hokey set of animated dioramas retelling the
plot of DuMaurier's novel.
However, the restaurant and shop are designed to fit in with the inn's
decor and hidden discreetly around the back. The museum, a fascinating
collection of smuggling memorabilia well worth a visit for its own sake,
is housed in the stables where the inn used to care for horses.

Our room was on the main floor, with nothing more scary in it than the
100 top horror moments in film being broadcast on the television. As my
son watched Frankenstein lurch to life and dozed off into happy
Halloween slumber, the rain lashed against the windows and I tried to
ignore the fact that Dozemary Pool, where the Lady of the Lake accepted
King Arthur's return of the sword Excalibur, was barely a mile away.

Upstairs, however, someone was not sleeping. In Room Number Five, a
woman allegedly walks out of the mirror, crosses the floor, and exits
through the wall. She has companion ghosts as well; a murder victim who
sits outside the bar, waiting to come back in to finish his beer, and
ghostly horses whose hoofbeats can be heard on the cobbles late at
night.
When we paid our bill the next morning and looked at the guestbook, it
was dotted with entries that sent shivers up my spine.
"Wonderful experience, didn't sleep a wink all night" and words to that
effect. One of the staff members told us that some people specifically
request "the haunted rooms" when they make their bookings.

Back in London, the ghost of two of Britain's royal wives are ready to
lure visitors to Hampton Court Palace. Henry V111's third wife, Jane
Seymour, gave birth to her son Edward there and died 12 days later. Her
ghost is said to haunt a staircase in the palace.
Henry's fifth wife, Catherine Howard, is a more gutwrenching spectre.
Cast off by Henry and awaiting execution, she is said to have escaped
her captors and run the length of the palace's Long Gallery screaming
his name and begging for mercy before being recaptured and dragged away.

My father, the notorious sleeper of the Longcross, says that there is no
place spookier for him than Hampton Court Palace as dusk falls on a late
afternoon in November.
Did we see any ghosts on our trip? No. Did we feel their presence?
Undoubtedly yes, and they added an enormous dimension to our trip and
opened a door to history for my son.
These are, after all, the spectres of real people, and the details of
their lives led us into conversations about the Victorian era, ancient
Britain, the story of King Arthur and of England's much-married monarch,
Henry V111.
And I am sure that, one day, the ghosts of Britain will lure him back to
Britain. Who can say no to that kind of beckoning finger?

Jane Emson is a copy-editor at The Vancouver Sun.

IF YOU GO ...
Getting There: Many airlines offer flights from Canada to Britain, with
the large majority of them landing in London. New regulations regarding
in-flight baggage have come into effect, so travellers should check with
the airline or their travel agent about what they are allowed to bring
on board the aircraft.
Getting Around: London Transport offers a wide array of ticket and
transportation options. We bought a family day pass that can be used
outside of rush hours. Ask at any Tube station ticket wicket about the
best options for you, as family size, ages and the hours you want to
travel will help decide your best choice. Check online at
http://www.tfl.gov.uk/tube/

Longcross Hotel
Run by James and Sharon Bishop, the Longcross has a refurbished stable
with two bedrooms, a honeymoon suite and 14 nice rooms, a bar and a
restaurant. It also offers breakfast. The Longcross Hotel & Gardens
Trelights, Port Isaac,
Cornwall, U.K., PL29 3TF
T: +44(0) 1208 880243
F: +44(0) 1208 880560 : http://www.longcrosshotel.co.uk

Tintagel Castle: Operated as an English Heritage site, there is an
admission charge and no vehicle access. Parking is available at the top
of the hill and a shuttle bus takes passengers down and back. There is a
boardwalk and a steep set of stairs to access the castle ruins. The site
offers a simple teashop for refreshments and a souvenir shop.
http://www.cornwall-online.co.uk/english-heritage/tintagel.htm

Tower of London: Best accessed via bus or Tube (Tower Bridge is your
station), the tower can be a crowded tourist attraction in peak season.
It is possible to buy tickets that will let you jump to the front of the
lineup, although they cost more. Audio tours and snack bars, as well as
souvenir shops. Allow yourself a good two or three hours here.
http://www.hrp.org.uk/

Hampton Court Palace: Located outside London, the best way to get to
Hampton Court is by train or bus. It is possible to travel there by
riverboat, but the trip can take as long as four hours, depending on
tides. Visitors are encouraged to set aside at least three hours to
explore the site. The palace, formal gardens and maze open at 10 a.m.,
but closing times depend on what time of year you visit, as the site
closes earlier in fall, winter and early spring. Other parts of the
gardens open earlier than 10 a.m. Family tickets are available, as are
audio guides.
http://www.hamptoncourt.org.uk/

London Walks: If Jack the Ripper's not to your taste, London Walks
offers a multitude of other options with different walks on different
days of the week. Read carefully, as some walks involve stops at pubs
where children may not be admitted. Brochures are available everywhere
from hotel lobbies to tourist information kiosks. No reservations
required, and you pay the host at the designated meeting stop, which is
generally a central Tube station. Wear comfortable shoes and bring an
umbrella if the weather looks dicey. Allow two hours.
http://www.walks.com/

Jamaica Inn: Located on Bodmin Moor, Cornwall, the inn is accessible
only by car or tour bus. This year the Inn is offering special
paranormal investigation nights, one of which is scheduled for Oct. 31.
Comfortable rooms, large cosy bar, restaurant and a souvenir shop, as
well as a museum.
Jamaica Inn
Bolventor
LAUNCESTON, Cornwall
PL15 7TS
U.K.