Stonecamp has ghosts. That became obvious during our first visit to Wayne when a local, upon learning that we were the new owners of Stonecamp, heralded us with ghost stories and questioned whether we had experienced anything strange yet. Yet? We learned that the grand piano had had a history of playing itself during parties, that there have been at least two unfortunate deaths in the house, maybe more and that a previous owner's ashes had been released to the waters in front of the camp. Yet?
The author of a recently published book on the ghosts of Maine asked for permission to include Stonecamp in her book. During a visit, the group accompanying her spotted three ghosts in the camp and one in the boathouse -- a nattily dressed and very polite gentleman greeted them in the parlor; a well dressed but slightly distressed lady was found in an upstairs bedroom and a young girl skipped along the catwalk leading to the boathouse. In the boathouse, an older man in cap and vest was found working at the workbench in the stable. He would not turn to acknowledge his visitors.
We declined permission to include Stonecamp in the book, concerned that certain members of the family would be "spooked".
The ghost in the boathouse was named Henry. I know this because he told me so. Our relationship wasn't always comfortable. For my first two years, the hair on my neck would stand up when I walked into the boathouse, particularly at dusk. He warmed to me after I respectfully asked his name and apologized for disturbing him. Although I never actually saw or heard anything, I would reintroduce myself upon each return visit and he would repay my kindness by guiding me silently to missing tools when asked.
One very strange event occured in August 2011. In the middle of the night, Peter's dog Huck suddently began a soulfull, wailing bark as he sprinted from upstairs bedroom to bedroom while peering down to the catwalk below. Upon hearing the commotion above, KT's brother Johnny who was spending the night in the boathouse, opened the door to investigate. Upon doing so, he saw "something" on the catwalk move suddenly towards him. Overcome with dread, he slammed the door shut and wouldn't open it until morning.
In 2012, Denise reported that the place settings she'd laid out for dinner had been moved twice -- even though she was sure that no one but her had been in the room.
Once my hair would stand up on my evening trips to the bathroom or when I walked past the entrance to the stairs where a previous owner had stumbled fatally. Entering the camp's crawlspace to attend to a thrown circuit breaker was frequently a test of wills. And Tristan and Peter still tell the tail of setting up an Ouiga board late one night but not being able to bring themselves to make a first move. Perhaps it's the flow of family and visitors. Or the extensive rehabilitation to the camp? I don't know. But I do know that after we removed the stable in 2013, Henry left.
