knew about the hotel. From breaking glass, disembodied foot-
steps and life-like apparitions, it was obvious that she had no doubt that the hotel was haunted. The fax machine would
mysteriously turn itself on, buzzing and carrying on despite
there being no fax. Doors would mysteriously open and close,
the till would fly open by itself. The Kalamunda Hotel even
has an invisible toilet flusher!
One particularly solid apparition made an appearance in
the hotel bottle shop, prompting Katinka’s husband (who was
on duty at the time) to try and serve the strange woman he
believed to be a customer. The elderly woman was dressed in
period clothing, her grey hair pulled back into a severe bun.
She disappeared as soon as she was approached.
The old woman is widely believed to be the ghost of Miss
Jarrett, the daughter of the Irish Stockman who built the original hotel. It is reported that she lived in the attic until her death and refuses to move on. Others still report the ghost of an Irishman, so perhaps Miss Jarrett and her father are haunting the hotel together.
The Kalamunda Hotel 69
Katinka also told me about a sad case involving a suicide in
the 1970’s. A young woman came to the hotel to see her boy-
friend, who was working his shift at the bar. Their relation-
ship was on the rocks, and she was hoping to speak to him and
patch things up. Contrary to salvaging the relationship as she had expected, her boyfriend informed her that it was all over, and that he was in fact seeing somebody else.
The distraught young woman made her way upstairs and
into the first room she could access. Consumed by heartbreak,
she impulsively took her own life. She was found hanging in
Room 1 the next day, a spur of the moment decision which
has kept her imprisoned in the hotel’s hallways ever since.
A day after hearing Katinka’s story, I received an email
which stopped me in my tracks. A lady named Jacqui wanted
to show me a photo she had taken a couple of years ago at the
Kalamunda Hotel. The photo was of a ghostly apparition; it
was the image of a young woman with long, blond hair. I was
sure it was the woman I had just been hearing about. Jacqui
also told me that her stay at the hotel had yielded some com-
pelling EVP’s. I was excited and intrigued.
We arranged to meet at the hotel the following week.
Although we were just meeting for a casual lunch, I knew it
would turn into so much more.
The photo was amazing. If it wasn’t for the fact that the
apparition didn’t have a lower half to her body (and the fact that Jacqui had assured me no other person was present at the
time) I would have thought that the photograph was of a liv-
ing person. Another giveaway was the ghost’s confused and
pained expression. Zooming in on her face was heart-break-
ing, it was obvious that the woman had been thrust into a
tragic situation by her angst-ridden impulsiveness. Her suicide 70 The Kalamunda Hotel
was a knee jerk reaction which has now left her trapped in the lower-vibratory realms.
Jacqui handed me a thumb drive which I would listen to
later, but first it was time to introduce ourselves to the hotel’s resident ghosts.
We made our way up the wide, wooden stair case, snap-
ping away as we went. Although we managed to capture
numerous orbs in our photos, we were both in the mindset
that we wanted a more concrete connection with the hotel’s
ghosts. We didn’t need proof of their presence, we knew they
were there and we wanted to help.
Perhaps fortuitously, a smallish round table sat off to one
side of the upstairs bar area.
“That table would be perfect for a session of table tipping,”
I said. “Do you think we should see if anyone wants to make
contact?”
Jacqui smiled as she pushed away the surrounding chairs.
“Absolutely!” she said.
A moment later, we were carrying the table into the Dome
Room; the room in which we felt the ghosts most strongly.
“Right!” I said as we placed our hands on the table. “Let’s
see if anyone wants to come through …”
Jacqui and I spent the next half hour chatting to the young
girl in the photo, and to Mr Paddy Connelly himself. Although
Paddy was initially reluctant to communicate, he soon
warmed to us and was happy to join in. We ended up using an
upturned glass with a hastily scribbled Ouija board, through
which Paddy was able to identify himself and make contact.
His energy first came across as unwelcoming and angry, but
we soon reassured him that we were here to help and meant
him no harm. I feel confident that we eventually won him
The Kalamunda Hotel 71
over, especially since we shared an amusing exchange at the
end of the afternoon.
“Paddy,” I said. “We are definitely coming back next week.
We’re going to help you and all the souls who are trapped here move on. Are you happy about that?”
YES he slowly responded.
“I know you don’t have a great history with women, but
may I ask if there’s any chance you like me?”
Again, the glass dragged itself to YES.
“What about Jacqui?” I asked. “Do you like her?”
YES!
“Wonderful!” I said. “We feel the same about you. And I
know you won the Ugliest Man competition, but let me just say that I’ve seen your photo and I don’t think you’re ugly at all!”
The light-hearted banter seemed to affect the atmosphere
in the room. The heaviness seemed to clear, and was replaced
by a sense of excitement and anticipation.
I asked Paddy if we could have a farewell photo before we
left, suggesting that he posed with Jacqui. At first glance, there was nothing to hint at Paddy’s presence, and it wasn’t until I downloaded the photo that afternoon that I began to laugh.
A radiant little orb had positioned itself right in the mid-
dle of Jacqui’s lips, prompting me to think that our new friend was giving her a farewell kiss. I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and help Paddy and his cohorts cross over.
Later that evening, I armed myself with my headphones
and settled down to listen to Jacqui’s EVP recording of the
hotel. Jacqui had stayed at the hotel with her sister two years earlier ; a girls’ ghost hunting trip scheduled to coincide with her sister’s visit from Ireland.
72 The Kalamunda Hotel
Upon asking Paddy Connolly to appear as an orb in a farewell photo, Jacqui and I were amused to see that he had placed himself upon Jacqui’s lips!
A lump formed in my throat as I heard the imploring voices
pleading for release.
“Help us!” called a voice with a gentle Irish brogue, I won-
dered if it belonged to the Irish stockman. I was to hear him repeat his plea three times in the space of ten minutes.
“Stuck in!” cried a very young girl. Her voice was as clear
as a bell, as though she had positioned herself directly in front of the microphone to ensure her voice came through.
And then, more ominously, a rough, angry voice belted
through my headphones.
“Shut the door!” it hissed.
Jacqui told me earlier that she thought t
he angry voice
belonged to Paddy, and that he seemed to dominate the rest of
the hotel’s ghosts. Perhaps he still thought he owned the hotel and had authority over its occupants.
The Kalamunda Hotel 73
“He’s keeping them in the hotel to control them,” Jacqui
said. “He doesn’t want to cross over, so he doesn’t want them
to either. They’re all trapped. I think he got angry when he
realised the Irishman and the little girl were trying to communicate with us.”
The sinister, guttural voice didn’t seem to gel with the
spirit we had been speaking with that afternoon, but it was
possible that Jacqui was right. And if she was, I hoped that by showing Paddy love and compassion, we had gone some way
towards convincing him that it was indeed time to move on.
We told him that sixty six years of lingering within the hotel’s walls as a ghost was quite long enough, and that love, light and happiness awaited him on the other side.
We assured him that crossing over didn’t mean he’d have
to leave his hotel forever, and that he’d still be able to call in whenever he saw fit.
“There’s so much more to experience.” I said. “You all
deserve to move on!”
Since I had scheduled three spirit contact evenings at the
hotel in the coming weeks, I felt confident that Jacqui, my sitters and I would be able to help the ghosts move on. Espe-
cially since in the space of an afternoon, we had been able to connect with Paddy and appreciate the man he once was; a
scared, vulnerable man who made mistakes in life but did not
deserve to be eternally punished. His self-imposed exile was
most probably borne from guilt and fear, a fear that I would
try my hardest to eradicate.
I couldn’t wait for the following week, and I hoped that the
Kalamunda Hotel’s ghosts felt the same. Whether he liked it
or not, Paddy was stuck with me. I was coming back with rein-
forcements to see the job through.
chapter ten
O u i j a
A week before the Kalamunda Hotel investigation, I decided
that it was time I found myself a Ouija Board. Since I was still struggling to develop my clairaudience, I was hoping to use
the board to facilitate clearer communication with the hotel’s ghosts. I had long resisted taking this step, as I was well-versed in the board’s inherent dangers. There are countless horror stories involving inexperienced Ouija use, whereby lower vibrational
entities have seized upon the opportunity to interact with the living. Doors to other dimensions have been indiscriminately
opened, thereby creating a portal which allows both positive
and negative energies to come through.
I reasoned that my sessions of table tipping (which I was
now doing on a regular basis) were really no different to working with a Ouija Board. Both involved inviting disembodied
entities to manifest, whether it be by moving the table or controlling the glass. I have always been mindful of spiritual protection, and spend a great deal of time preparing for spirit
75
76 Ouija
contact sessions beforehand. I raise my vibration with music,
meditation and prayer, and white light the table before I begin.
I also ask that my spirit guide and those of my sitters draw
in close and act as gate keepers, ensuring that no nasty, low-
vibrational energies can get through. Burning a white candle is also a good idea, as it’s believed to attract positive energy and repel negativity.
As such, I have only had positive and uplifting experiences
with the table. I felt confident that approaching the Ouija
Board with the same level of preparation and respect would
keep me and my sitters adequately protected.
After a day spent hunting through countless antique stores,
I finally found the exact type of table I was looking for. It was a carved Victorian side-table, inlaid with a plate of clear glass.
I also bought some Victorian-style stickers depicting cherubs
and flowers, together with a selection of large black letters. I would use these to customize my Ouija table, sticking them
beneath the glass to ensure the surface remained uniform and
smooth. In no time at all, I was ready to test it out.
My friend, Vee had called me earlier in the week, asking
if she could come and see me. She didn’t tell me as much at
the time, but apparently her deceased brother had been pester-
ing her to visit me. Vee, who has always been in tune with spirits, decided to concede to her brother’s wishes, as she felt she wouldn’t be able to get me out of her head until she did so!
It seemed more than coincidental that I had bought and set
up my Ouija table the previous day, so I asked Vee if she would like to sit at the table. Armed with a handful of tissues, she came and took her place.
Ouija 77
My customized Ouija Table, which I found in an old antique store.
Although I was expecting Vee’s brother to be the domi-
nant energy, the table was quickly hijacked by the ghosts of
the Kalamunda Hotel.
First to come through was Euie, who Vee and I thought surely must’ve actually been called Evie. We asked her if this was the case. But Euie was insistent, repeatedly spelling out
E..U..I..E until we had no choice but to accept that this was her name! She later told us that it was short for Eunice.
Euie told us that she had lived and died at the Kalamunda
hotel, and confirmed that she was the grey-haired old woman
who frequented the bottle shop. Wanting proof that she was
indeed who she said she was, I asked her if she was with
Paddy, to which she replied YES.
“OK then,” I said. “If you’re with Paddy, I’m sure he would
have told you about his Melbourne Cup triumph. Can you tell
me what the name of his horse was?”
78 Ouija
BLUE SPEC
We were blown away. It seemed Euie and her friends had
followed me home from the hotel a few days earlier. Before
she said goodbye, Euie moved to the letter V after which she moved to the X.
“I think she’s giving you a kiss Vee,” I said.
At this, the glass rapidly moved to YES, and then moved once again to the V and the X. And indeed, each spirit we spoke to during the session signed off in the same way, as
though they were trying to shower Vee in love. They left a
wonderful feeling of warmth in their wake.
I didn’t realise until that day, but Vee was not well and was
on the waiting list for surgery. It seemed as though the spirits knew this, and were eager to express their love and support.
Next to come through was Charles, who spelt his name
out with rapidity and ease.
“May we call you Charlie?” I asked.
CHARLES! he repeated.
“Are you the gentleman I heard calling out on the voice
recording?” I asked.
YES
“Can you please tell me what you were calling out,
Charles?”
HELP US was spelt out with deliberate ease.
My heart quickly jumped into my throat, I couldn’t believe
he was coming through so strongly. Further validation of
Charles’ identity was given to me later that night. An internet search of the history of the Kalamunda Hotel, confirmed that
the original builder was a gentleman named Charles Hum-
merston.
Ouija 79
I assured Charles that we would indeed help him, and told
him that I was bringing a group of friends to the hotel on
Monday night.
“We’re going to help you cross over,” I said. “It’s time to go into the light.”
We also had a brief word with Paddy Connolly, and an
eight year old girl named Gertie. Gertie told us that she was
the young girl we could hear on the voice recording, and when
we asked what she says on the tape, she replied STUCK!
Poor little darling, I couldn’t wait to help her. After assur-
ing the Kalamunda contingency that we would see them all on
Monday, I sent them all my love and asked them to step back.
Now it was Vee’s brother’s turn. I invited him to draw in
nice and close, and speak to us through the table.
“Can you please tell us your name?” I asked.
ANTHONY he said.
“And your middle name?”
PETER
I looked up at Vee for confirmation, she responded with a
tearful nod.
Anthony went on to tell us his date of birth and when he
passed away. He told us Vee’s husband’s name and the names
of her children, and confirmed that he watches of over Vee
and her family frequently, from the comfort of a wicker chaise lounge in the family room.
“I knew that,” Vee laughed. “I always hear the wicker
squeaking as if someone’s just sat in it. I usually tell whoever’s with me at the time that it’s just Anthony paying a visit!”
We shared some laughs as Anthony told us how good look-
ing he was.
“So what would you rate yourself out of ten?” I asked.
80 Ouija
The glass wasted no time shooting across to the number 9.
“Whoa!” I said, “So you’re a hottie … good for you!”
Anthony, Vee’s dearly departed, handsome brother.
After that, the tone became more serious, as Anthony
addressed the issue of Vee’s impending surgery. He wanted her
to know he would be right beside her; before, during and after the operation. He assured his sister that everything would go
perfectly, and that she definitely wouldn’t be reunited with her brother any time soon.
“And will there be any repercussions?” Vee asked.
None whatsoever, came the response. Anthony even told
Vee the date of the surgery, as it was all still up in the air at that point in time.
Embracing the Spirits: True Stories of My Encounters With the Other Side Page 7
