A Night with the Lights On at the Newly Reopened Shaniko Hotel ▶ [With Video]

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Nicole Vulcan

Shaniko Hotel Manager AlexSandra Conway welcomes a visitor to the haunted room 14.

I don't think I'm the first one to get a little turned upside down in Shaniko, and I don't think I'll be the last.

The historic Shaniko Hotel in the ghost town of Shaniko, Oregon, along Highway 97, reopened this August after a 16-year closure. Travelers moving between Madras and Biggs Junction sometimes stop in the old wool depot of Shaniko to check out its historical relics, including an old jail (complete with an actual skeleton wearing a Mexican sombrero), a mini museum and the iconic wool building bearing the town's name in giant letters on the roof.

Opened at the turn of the 20th Century by the Columbia Southern Railway, the hotel was a hive of activity for about a decade, when Shaniko was the loading point for wool producers of the area. But Shaniko's star began to fall right about the same time as Bend's was rising.

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Opened at the turn of the 20th Century by the Columbia Southern Railway, the hotel was a hive of activity for about a decade, when Shaniko was the loading point for wool producers of the area. But Shaniko's star began to fall right about the same time as Bend's was rising. In 1910, construction of the Oregon Trunk line made it the choice route for travelers and freight moving from the Columbia River, up through the Deschutes Canyon to Bend. The Columbia Southern line, then, was not long for this world.

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Nicole Vulcan

Manager AlexSandra Conway's ghostly nemesis, name unknown, is portrayed on the wall in room 8 and reportedly, is none too happy that a woman is running his hotel. Here, Conway shuts a window the ghost purportedly opened.

Up to this summer, the most prominent building in Shaniko was off limits – until its owner, the media mogul and businessman Robert B. Pamplin, Jr., settled on a deal that allowed the town's fire department, the nonprofit South Wasco Fire & Rescue, to lease the building and re-open the hotel. The hope is that funds raised by the hotel will support the all-volunteer fire team and improve the town, population 30 or so. The SWFR also operates the nearby Firehouse RV Park, featuring 20 RV spots, current Fire Chief Scott Marrs told the Source Weekly.

As one of those travelers who fairly regularly travels this route to Biggs and the Columbia River Gorge, I am among the curious who always wondered what was inside that large brick building, wrapped with its iconic white porch.

Little did I know that when I would finally get the chance to see inside, my visit would unfold like the classic script of a horror flick.

I arrived around 4:30pm, which in late fall means it was nearly dark. Inside, the lone staff member asked me whether I'd like the haunted room. Oh, and by the way, he said, he'd be leaving at 8pm — after which I'd be alone in the hotel, and would I please lock and unlock the door should I want to leave.

I did want to leave — like right then.

The beautiful mystery bites back

Gathering my wits and my most factual, no-nonsense self, I say that yes, I'll take Room 14, the haunted room. Then I promptly begin to question my life choices.

It may seem counterintuitive for a person who spends her work life telling other people about the places and people around them, but when I travel, I like to embrace the beautiful mystery – meaning I try my best not to engage in too much travel-related research before I go. Perhaps it's a pushback against the legions of Instagrammers who all go to the same places and eat at the same Insta-recommended hotspots when they travel. Perhaps it's just that nothing seems to be mysterious anymore, and I want to reclaim some of the enigma that seemed to delight intrepid travelers before smartphones came around. Whatever it is, I drove out to Shaniko loosely knowing that it was a "ghost town" without necessarily considering that my night would involve sleeping with purported ghosts.

But here I was, alone, even without my usual faithful duo of dogs (no dogs allowed), about to spend the night in what the staff unabashedly calls the haunted room. Cliché horror movie opening sequence, check.

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Nicole Vulcan

The lobby of the historic Shaniko Hotel, which reopened in August after 16 years.

Sleeping with the ghosts

Upstairs, the hallways are doomily lit with the type of flickering lights that add perfectly to the tableau. I drop my bags in Room 14, a fairly average-looking room with a single queen bed, and have a little trouble getting the lights to turn on. Fortunately, the Shaniko Hotel is equipped with Starlink internet that helps me promptly get a cheerful Netflix show going, in hopes of deadening any other freaky sounds.

While I'm settling in, the fire chief, Marrs, calls and invites me down to the lobby for a chat. While we're talking, a car pulls up, its California plates signaling another curious traveler. Sure enough, a guy walks in and asks for a room. The horror-movie script flips a bit as I realize I am no longer spending the night alone in this place. Sigh of relief.

Upstairs again, I decide it's still not worth tempting the ghosts. I leave no messes. I place my shoes in the least-offensive posture by the door. I refrain from busting out any booze in this place, once a good-time hotel in a "wet" town where plenty of shots have been fired and plenty of shenanigans have happened. Maybe the more peace-loving ghosts will appreciate my good behavior – after all, horror flicks always seem to blame the victims for some ethical infraction.

The resident ghost of Room 14, she says, is a lady of the night named Nettie who took her own life in that room.

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The ghosts do appreciate the effort, apparently, as nothing weird happens in the night. Still, I kept the lamp on, wanting a full view of any residents who may visit my room.

In the morning, the hotel's manager, AlexSandra Conway, confirms what I intuited in the night. The resident ghost of Room 14, she says, is a lady of the night named Nettie who took her own life in that room. Nettie didn't want to be a prostitute; but after being abandoned by her husband and daughter, was forced into the life.

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Other ghosts Conway describes include a former manager of the hotel, a little girl who purportedly died in an auto accident on the highway and rolls a blue ball around the halls, an obstinate worker from the wool building and an unnamed man who Conway says hates that a woman is now running the hotel.

"There's a photo of him in Room 8," she tells me. We go to see it. When we open the door, the howl of a west wind greets us, and we find the room's two windows both wide open.

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Nicole Vulcan

The iconic wool building in the town of Shaniko, Ore.

It's the jerk playing tricks, Conway says. When I look at the photo on the wall, I get a heavy feeling in my chest that doesn't subside until I leave the room. As she shuts the door, Conway haughtily reminds anyone who's listening that she is, whether they like it or not, the manager here.

I complete my trip with a visit to the Seven Directions cafe, currently located in the hotel's dining hall after a semi trucker drove through the cafe's original building. Biscuits and an egg bring me back to some sense of normalcy.

When I get home, I realize my hairbrush is missing. Whether it was a trick Nettie decided to play on me or whether I just left it somewhere, I'll never know.

Most times, I vacate a hotel by doing the "idiot check" under all the furniture. This time, I was too scared to look under the bed.