On Ghost Hunters, the original two stars of the show, Grant Wilson and Jason Hawes, are plumbers. And you don’t have to be an engineer or scientist to use them. They get to use blinking meters and gauges that would look right at home on the set of Ghostbusters. TV ghost hunters travel to creepy-fun locations while the rest of the humdrum world is sleeping: Haunted lighthouses, old tuberculosis sanatoriums, insane asylums. “People used to look at you like you were crazy if you told them you investigated the paranormal,” says one ghost hunter.
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An explosion of reality TV shows like SyFy channel’s Ghost Hunters and the Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures, have made what used to be viewed as a really goofy hobby now seem not only acceptable, but cool. If you’ve been half paying attention, ghost hunting is having its modern pop cultural moment. They’d already checked it out, and no trees touched the building. Most ghost hunters believe that spirits cause EMF spikes.īut – creak! What was that? It’s a loud noise from above. It’s a little white box that lights up when it perceives spikes in EMF, or changes in the electromagnetic field. The other four glance at Julie Blankenship, sitting next to Ellen, or rather, they look at the KII meter she’s holding. “It’s ok for you to come out and speak with us,” says Ellen MacFarlane, a stay at home mom from Napa, California sitting cross-legged on the floor with her eyes closed. On the top floor of the wine cellars, they turn the lights off, and wait for something to happen. Could it be the ghost of the original owner, an exiled Hungarian Count who was supposedly eaten by alligators? The group, whose name is The Amateur Ghost Hunters: R.I.P., is on the scene to find out. One of the tasting room employees saw a “guy in a white t-shirt” climb the stairs then vanish. There have been reports of hauntings here. Amidst the rustic stone buildings and tidy gravel pathways of the historic Buena Vista Winery, five middle-aged paranormal investigators from the San Francisco Bay Area gather in matching black t-shirts. On a warm night in the winemaking town of Sonoma, California, the slightly moldy smell of eucalyptus trees hangs heavy in the air.
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