Great food, old-fashioned setting offset possible spooks

NEWBURY, Ohio - As the leaves turn to gold and the winds become whispers and howls, Punderson Manor offers a cozy, comfortable getaway. But our stay at the state park lodge in Geauga County took a deliciously chilling turn once we learned about the ghosts.

How could Punderson not be haunted?

Most of Ohio's seven state park lodges are open-beamed, high-vaulted, nouveau-rustic structures that would look right at home in Vail, Colo., or Jackson Hole, Wyo., the kind of places where weekend snowboarders or fly-fishermen would hang out to play at being cowboys.

But Punderson is more Hound of the Baskervilles than A River Runs Through It.

The Tudor-style mansion was begun in 1929 as a private home. But the Depression forced the owner - a Detroit tycoon - to abandon the expensive project even as it neared completion. The structure moldered for 20 years until the state bought it along with Punderson Lake and the surrounding land.

The house sat empty until 1956 when it was renovated and opened to the public. Another renovation was finished in 1982.

Now Punderson's 31 guest rooms provide all the modern amenities visitors expect, in a decidely old-fashioned - some might say spooky - setting.

My youngest son and I were having a great time even before we learned about the ghosts.

We enjoyed a nature hike along Punderson Lake, which, unlike most lakes in Ohio, wasn't built for flood control or speed boating.

Covering about 100 acres, the lake dates back about 12,000 years to the last ice age when a glacier retreated, leaving a huge block of ice behind. When the ice melted, Punderson Lake, the largest and deepest kettle lake in Ohio, resulted.

Gasoline-powered boats are prohibited, so the lake is always quiet, always serene. The calm water, encircled with lily pads and rushes, made an ideal backdrop for a hike. But even though the lake has a small beach, when the time came for a swim, we opted for chlorination.

The water in the large indoor pool had just been changed and was ice cold. But the outdoor pool still had an end-of-summer warmth, and we performed a few end-of-summer underwater handstands before the evening breeze picked up.

Even then, a few of the parks many maples were turning a rich orange, although peak fall color at Punderson shouldn't arrive until mid-October. I tried not to think about the changing seasons.

But winter will come, and when it does, visitors might appreciate the park's winter-sports chalet, sledding hill, 6 miles of cross-country ski trails and 4 miles of snowmobile trails.

The weather was mild, however, during our visit.

Mike and I split two tennis matches. (In my defense, I was wearing sandals during my loss.)

And I cleaned his 13-year-old clock at shuffleboard. Fortunately, he has yet to learn that it's an old-man's game.

The food at Punderson was remarkable, the best I've encountered at a state park. I still have bad memories of one cold, dry, tasteless salmon I encountered months ago at an otherwise fine park lodge.

Happily, dry and tasteless were not on the menu at Punderson.

The lodge sits close enough to the highway and nearby towns to make the restaurant itself a destination, our waitress said. Many diners come just for the food and never stay overnight, she said.

After enjoying succulent lake trout for breakfast and tender medallions of beef crusted in Stilton cheese for dinner, I understood why.

With my encouragement, Mike has been experimenting with new foods as he accompanies me on some of my travels. At dinner he informed our waitress that a few weeks earlier he had tried crab cakes and tht night he would have his first roast duck (which he loved).

"So what was your latest food adventure?" she asked him.

"Uh, at breakfast this morning I had my first mush."

Charmed, the waitress told Mike that the mansion was allegedly haunted.

"Do you believe that?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I've been here 10 years, and I haven't seen anything. But maybe some strange things happen, and I just ignore them."

Whatever haunts Punderson apparently does not frighten away any paying customers. The waitress happily provided us with a copy of The Ghosts of Punderson Manor, a four-page, 8,500 word account of weird phenomena - including self-closing doors, self-turning bathroom taps - and specters - including a hanged man and a seaweed-enshrouded girl.

Mike, like me, doesn't believe in ghosts, except maybe around a campfire. Still, he was mesmerized.

Once it turned dark, I suggested that we conduct our own little seance in the tower library in the oldest part of the building.

We were watching Star Wars: Episode II, so it wasn't hard to persuade my son to abandon the television.

"Should I turn it off?" Mike asked.

"No. I usually leave the TV on when I'm away from my hotel room. It discourages thieves. And ghosts!"

At the front desk we borrowed an Ouija board, one of the many games available to guests.

We made our way to the dark, empty library.

We rested our hands, ever so gently, on the Ouija pointer.

I whispered my question to the ether.

"Are there any ghosts in Punderson Manor?"

The pointer shuddered, rocked, and started creeping up the board.

I could feel a tingling in my spine and was suddenly aware of tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

The pointer picked up speed, changed direction and suddenly came to rest on an answer.

No.

"The ghost is a joker, Dad," said my son, cracking up.

"Right" I said, also laughing. "So who is sending this message?"

Much too slowly for a couple of skeptics, the Ouija spelled out VITSFGTERROR.

"Sheeya, right," said Mike, rolling his eyes.

When we got back to the room, the television was off, of course.

"It's the Vits Fig Terror!" said Mike, not terrified at all. "I guess he didn't like the movie either."

We both knew there was a logical explanation. We just didn't know what it was.

And the only howling we heard outside our window that night was the wind in the dying leaves.

Vits Fig Terror or no, we slept the sleep of angels, my spine tingling only a little.

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