We have two days of holiday at Alexandra before we start work. Since we have nothing to do today, Alexandra Backpacker's owner, Cherry suggests us to visit St Bathans, a very popular haunted place >_<
We feel a bit creepy on our way to St Bathans. GPS directed us to a loop road, with the road sign of St Bathans. However, it didn't state how many km we need to go. The loop road is so so long, and there is only grasses and trees along the raodside. It seems very desolated. Furthermore, the wind is soooo strong that you couldn't imagine! We're a bit worried as our surroundings seem a bit gloomy, but luckily, it is 12pm in the afternoon and the day is very bright.
After half an hour drive in the long loop road, we finally reach St Bathans, the former gold and coal mining town. Mining has long ceased; it is now a tranquil holiday retreat. The preservation of many of its historic building makes it one of the region's more picturesque tourist venues.
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| the old-day petrol station? |
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| The historic Vulcan Hotel, a restored and reputedly haunted public house, is the main prominent features of St Bathans. |
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| Vulcan Hotel - the famous haunted place in St Bathans |
Besides Vulcan Hotel, another popular features in St Bathans must be the Blue Lake. St Bathans is well known for this scenic man-made lake with beautiful looking clay cliffs that attract many touritsts. It is currently a camping spot.
Once we reached St Bathans, we're terrified by the strong wind that is blowing so fiercely. It was so strong that it blew up all the sands from the ground, and once you opened your mouth to talk, you will immediately swallow the sand! To find a shelter, all of us squeeze into Vulcan Hotel's Bar.
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| this music player reminds me of my childhood time, where i used to toss a coin into it, selecting the songs that i like |
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| Sitting here sipping wine (mocha) soaking up the late afternoon sun drifting dreaming letting the mind wander ... ... Hear the click of the balls the cries of the diggers the saucy laughter of whores the music the shouting the curses the whistles the barking of dogs at the door smell the sweat and the smoke seeping out of the walls the booze the horses the hay see the dancing the fighting the sozzled old-timer slumped in a heap on the floor ... ... Gone long ago now those pioneer settlers but the feel of the place lingers on still lived in still loved in still standing and will for a few years more. <The Billiard Rooms> |
The Vulcan Hotel was built of mud brick in 1882, two decades after the district's first gold rush but while mining was still taking place. In the early 1880s, an itinerant prostitute known only as the Rose ventured into town, one of a seemingly endless stream of young ladies lured to the minefields with hopes of finding a better life. She worked the dance halls and rented a room at the Vulcan Hotel. A gifted singer, her dulcet tones were claimed to have drawn her no shortage of fans and eager clients. But one evening the Rose invited the wrong customer back to her room. Her body was found the next morning on the bed where she made her miserable living. She had been raped, robbed and strangled to death. Her killer was never caught.
The ghost of this young woman is said to haunt anyone who disturbs her occupation of the front-corner bedroom where she passed away. St Bathans almost died, too, with the end of gold mining in the mid-1930s. People moved out in droves. The village stands miles from anywhere, on a lonely loop road, where permafrost completes the pallid ghostly aspect. The Vulcan survived, to serve a handful of resilient old-timers and local farmers, joined in summer by city folk seeking tranquility.
After few hours long of seeping coffee and chit chatting in Vulcan's bar, we realized that the wind is getting weaker. Hence we have a 50 minutes walking along the Blue Lake.
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| The Blue Lake - a small lake formed during gold-sluicing, which gives it a distinctive turquoise color. |
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| Saw this adorable dog (we named it blackie). Blackie is so cute that it leads us into the walking track, bringing us to the route, like a tour guide. |
