The crumbling buildings we discovered were by turns fascinating, frightening, wistful and sorrowful; a testament to the grand dreams and harsh realities of empire building. On a more prosaic level, the echoing hallways, gaping windows and sudden spaces made it an excellent spot for a horror film or music video – in fact it was used as a backdrop to a pivotal moment in Matt Dillon's excellent film “City of Ghosts ”.

The road up to the summit was by far the worst we'd encountered so far in the country, with more potholes than level surface. Our first relief from the bone-jarring ride was the Emperor Bao Dai's royal summer palace, although it was more of a gazebo. Part of a small complex of accompanying buildings, the gutted interior, curious orange lichen encrusting the walls and spectacular view were a taste of things to come. A spacious circular room gave way to a vertiginous platform suspended over lush jungle.

Next we headed for the Popok Vil waterfall, the first stage of which we reached easily following a well-trodden path through tall grass and low scrub. From here all that was visible was the lip of the waterfall; a group of loonies stood on a rock in the middle of the torrent posing for photos; one foot wrong and they would have plunged to their doom. What people do for holiday snaps...

We were soon to put ourselves in equal danger as we had to ford the river to reach the other layers and viewing platforms. Our efforts were more than rewarded by the sight of the huge, queerly frothing torrent that poured like draught ale over colossal boulders. Split into two steps by some ancient geological event, the waterfall was one of the most exhilarating I've seen.

Actually, human hands had been at work here. The Bokor Palace Hotel was opened on Valentine's Day 1922 and was in almost continuous use until 1975 when it was torched by fleeing Khmer Rouge soldiers. They continued to use it as a mountain hide-out up until 1990. Built by the colonial French it was intended as a retreat from the fierce heat of the summer plains. In 1940 it was given to the Khmer King and was subsequently expanded and developed as a casino.

Winding past the burnt out shells of several structures built to service the Hotel, including a the Post Office on stilts, reachable by means of a suspended walkway, we finally pulled up in front of the piece-de-resistance, the hulking structure of the ex-Bokor Palace Hotel, the words still barely visible, etched in orange lichen.

From here on we were on our own, literally. We were the only incorporated souls in the building, and mounting the grand stairs, we peered up at the art deco exterior with some trepidation. We entered the reception area, the recess used by the staff in front of us. I joked there should be a bell to attract the staff's attention, although who or what we'd have summoned I'm not sure. Passing round and to the right we all gasped as we entered the grand ballroom.

After a flatfooted attempt at the tango with my wife, we gazed with admiration at the still impressive interior - colourful tiles, fittings for long-gone chandeliers, and huge, glassless windows which opened out to another astounding view over the Kampot bay. For some reason we started to whistle old songs, and continued to do so throughout the visit. The echoing refrain of 'As time goes by' caught on like an infectious Meme, and I was to hear it coming back, echoing down the stairwell from another of our group later on; somehow it seemed appropriate.

It reminded us of the hotel from Kubrick's The Shining, especially the larger communal rooms - I think we all half expected to blink and be returned to 1940, stiff-necked waiters carrying trays of champagne, besuited bureaucrats striding from room to room, graceful ladies in long pleated skirts and pill-box hats flirting with local boys. From here we headed into the basement... this was one of the scariest parts of the building as little light reached down here, and on one wall was inscribed 'Hello ghosts' in wavering graffiti - and below 'we stayed here over night' and then a date.

On four floors the hotel must have been grand and elegant in its heyday. In its ruined state, there was no distinction between servants quarters, suites and budget rooms - sets of stairs wind behind each other in an Escheresque fashion, confusing my usually good sense of direction. As an example we spotted a pair of terraces on the two wings of the building but only stumbled onto them by accident - where we expected to find a doorway was a wall.

Most of the building felt safe, however, and the only hair-raising moment was when we found a spiral staircase between 3 floors; after 4 steps down it disappeared into twisted metal struts and clinging concrete. Outside, on a first floor terrace, we looked over the mountainside and saw thin wisps of cloud stretching towards us like spectral fingers. I imagined sitting out here sipping cocktails, and how it would be both wonderful and an eternal shame if the place were to be restored. Our time was running out with the sun, and we had a brief march around some of the other buildings before we left.

One residential building showed signs of life, some sort of weather station, as a pin-cushion of antennae and satellite dishes sprouted from the roof, as did, incongruously, a bed of solar panels and a wind-turbine. Inside, a TV flickered and a man worked on his motorbike outside - he smiled and waved as we walked past. A couple of motorbikes outside the ranger's station made me wish we'd thought to stay overnight to witness what must be a unique sunrise – the days' first rays banishing the ghosts from the hallways of a haunted hotel.