The lighthouse at Point Lookout was built in 1830 to mark the entrance to the Potomac River — a modest white clapboard structure, two stories, at the southernmost tip of Maryland’s western shore. Thirty-two years after its first light was lit, the Union Army arrived and transformed the surrounding peninsula. What had been a navigational aid became the edge of Camp Hoffman, one of the largest Confederate prisoner-of-war camps in American history.

The camp operated from 1862 to 1865. In that span, approximately 52,000 Confederate soldiers passed through, and thousands never left. Estimates of the dead range from 3,000 to more than 8,000, killed not by combat but by smallpox, scurvy, dysentery, and the grinding compression of too many men into too little space. The lighthouse and its adjacent hospital annex served as the camp’s medical facilities — the last address for those who had run out of options. Paranormal researcher Gerald Sword, working with acoustical engineer Dr. Steven Kaplan, later installed recording equipment throughout the building and captured approximately two dozen distinct voices that no member of the investigation team could account for. The recordings have circulated and been debated ever since, and have never been fully explained.

The accounts from the structure describe two figures. One is a soldier in period dress, seen near the lower level without warning, gone before the witness can fully process what they have seen. The other is a woman in 19th-century clothing, reported in the upper levels by multiple independent visitors who described the same details without knowing one another. The cemetery that holds some of the war dead adds its own register: lights moving among the markers, sounds without apparent source, the sensation on the path back from the grounds of not being quite alone. The lighthouse was decommissioned in 1966. Maryland has since restored it and opened it to the public — a museum, now, for history that has not agreed to stay quiet.

Story Source: Documentary titled “Haunted Lighthouses” (The Learning Channel, 1998)

Address: Point Lookout Light, Point Lookout State Park, Scotland, MD 20687

Accessibility Rating: Booking Required — Open to visitors but requires advance reservation, ticket purchase, or tour booking.

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What Others Have Experienced

During a camping stay at Point Lookout in the early season, a couple reported hearing slow, deliberate footsteps circling their trailer through the night, despite rain-softened ground that showed no footprints by morning. On the second night, an unidentifiable hollow chanting filled the campground from roughly 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. — unlike anything attributable to wind, water, or nearby campers. They packed up and left the following morning, stating they would not return.

— from HubPages

A couple camping midweek at an otherwise empty Point Lookout experienced a sudden, sharp sulfur smell that appeared from nowhere while they sat at their picnic table. At the same moment, one visitor reacted as though something invisible had made contact with her, and her companion noticed one mantle of their propane lantern had extinguished on its own while the other continued burning normally. When they described the experience to the camp hosts the next morning, the hosts were entirely unsurprised — and told them they had been paid a visit.

— from HubPages

A visitor recalled a childhood trip to the park in which a figure in heavy, period-era clothing appeared on one of the trails during temperatures in the high 90s — paying no attention to the children and moving with deliberate purpose. Minutes later, something unseen began following the group through the tall grass alongside the trail, matching their pace exactly: running when they ran, stopping when they stopped. Years later, spotting a postcard in the park gift shop depicting the same uniform, the visitor realized the figure had been dressed as a Confederate soldier.

— from HubPages

A travel writer who visited specifically to investigate the site’s paranormal reputation described standing at the lighthouse porch on a cold, overcast afternoon, the flat expanse of land and water lending the place an atmosphere entirely suited to its history. Using an EVP recording app near the windows, she and her companion captured what sounded distinctly like a small child speaking in an unrecognizable language. Though the app carried an entertainment disclaimer, she described the experience as impossible to dismiss and left planning a return visit after dark.

— from Roadtrippers

A state park employee who lived at the lighthouse during the 1970s reported repeatedly hearing murmuring voices, doors opening and closing, and footsteps moving through the hallway — all while alone in the building. Among the most striking incidents was being woken by an unusual pattern of lights hovering above the bed, only to smell smoke and find a space heater burning below; many have interpreted this as an intentional warning from one of the site’s presences. The same employee also described hearing a woman’s voice singing cheerfully in the dark and the sound of invisible men laughing in otherwise empty rooms.

— from The Southern Maryland Chronicle