Beyond the Devil's Tramping Ground

Gracious, did that cross painted on the road just cause Bridget to burst into flame?

Several years ago—in July of 2010, to be precise—my friend Bridget (a.k.a. Suntigres) and I went down to Chatham County, NC, to The Devil's Tramping Ground to hunt a night cache called "Hell on Earth" (GC1GZNP). Night caches tend to be smashing fun, as you get to go out in the woods with flashlights and follow glowing markers to get where you're going, and this cache in particular made for a memorable adventure (see "Hell on Earth" for the blow-by-blow). It's rare that I revisit a cache I've already found, but Bridget wanted her significant other, Gerry (BigG7777), to experience the joy of night caching, and since there was a newer cache at the Tramping Ground I hadn't yet found, she wondered whether I might wish to accompany them. Well, shoot yeah!

BigG7777 and Suntigres at the Smokehouse Bistro in Liberty

So off we went. First, a nice dinner at the Smokehouse Bistro in downtown Liberty—an excellent burger with jalapenos and homemade chipotle-habanero sauce for me—then a handful of park & grab caches on the trip to ye accursed circle of land, located just off Devil's Tramping Ground Road near Harper's Crossroads. We arrived at the site just before sunset. The place appears innocuous enough—just a clearing in the woods set back some distance from the road—but there are distinct signs of something a little different here. There's a large cross painted on the road near the opening to the forest. Numerous trees have been etched with crosses and other religious symbols. Graffiti denigrating Satan in the rudest of terms has been sprayed on the pavement and on trees. And clear signs of wild partying litter the entrance, though once you get farther into the woods, there are few signs of human incursion.

Our first order of business was to make our way out to the cache called "Beyond the Devil's Tramping Ground" (GC5Y9KA), which proved easy enough to find. But then I discovered, deep in these dark, deserted woods, a large electrical cable running along the ground and extending out of sight. Then somewhere in the distance, I heard a faint, high-pitched "Woo-woo-woo-woo" sound, which led me to suspect I might have come upon a conduit to The Black Lodge. I didn't encounter any of its inhabitants, at least that I'm aware of (sometimes I'm not too sure about Bridget), but I reckon this was as apt a location as any to find an entry point.

Hunting "Beyond the Devil's Tramping Ground" just before sunset. Wonder if that length of electrical
cable out in the woods is a conduit of sorts to the Black Lodge....

One more cache under our belts, and the sun just about down, we turned our attention to "Hell on Earth." The first thing we realized was that, unlike when Bridget and I had gone after it back in 2010, we could see no glowing reflectors in the beams of our flashlights. Well, that was seven years ago, and trees have grown, reflectors have fallen out of trees, and our memories are anything but photographic. We ended up stumbling around in the dark for a while without success, but then, happily, BigG came upon a reflector, a considerable distance from our starting point. From there, we were able to pick up the trail, though we did lose track of the reflectors any numbers of times as we journeyed farther. At one point, I did wonder whether we might have come upon an anomaly of time and space, à la The Blair Witch, wherein the woods seal themselves up tight and refuse to permit escape. Eerie bird calls filled the night, and distant frogs and other critters had commenced a lulling chorus. But after some searching, circling, and hollering back and forth, we reconnected with the trail, and at last—voilà—BigG was able to lay his hands on the cache.

Then the fun began. Since we hadn't marked GPS waypoints on our outbound trek, and there was no clear trail at this point, we had to figure out our own ways back to the starting point. And just because Bridget and I had already done this thing once, it didn't mean we could navigate the woods with any sort of assurance. We had the parking coordinates marked, of course, but taking the most direct route out oftentimes does not constitute the best route.

Briers! Ticks! Poison ivy! Unknown things whispering and gibbering in the darkness! Oww, motherfucker, oww, motherfucker, OWW!

At last, there it was—the Devil's Tramping Ground once again, and what a welcome sight. From there, it was back to the vehicle and back to our respective home ports—and rather late, it turned out. Much satisfaction for all, of course: BigG had claimed his first night cache, and Suntigres and I added a few pelts for ourselves.

Today, at 2:00 PM, I have a presentation on geocaching and horror writing to give at the Greensboro Public Library, Glenwood Branch. That's less than a couple of hours from now, but I expect to see some of you dear readers in attendance. There will be at least one new cache nearby, just waiting for someone to grab the coveted First-to-Find honor. Might that be you?

Lost highway

The Evil Spirit of Gravity Hill

There are numerous locations around the earth where, to our physical senses, gravity appears to go utterly haywire. Happily, geocaching has taken me to a couple of them, both of which are within relatively short driving distance of NC's Piedmont Triad. At such locations, you park your car at the base of a clear uphill slope, put your car in neutral, and disengage the parking brake. Your vehicle will then begin to roll uphill, gathering momentum as it goes.

The one I visited yesterday is in Rowan County, NC, near Morgan Ridge Vineyards, where Ms. Brugger and I spent a pleasant afternoon with some very benevolent spirits. There is another such site in Rockingham County, NC, just south of Danville, VA, where this singular phenomenon is perhaps even more pronounced. The stories around such locations, at least in this region of the country, go more or less as follows: Back in the 17th century, a young woman was convicted of practicing witchcraft and executed by hanging. Before dying, she uttered a curse that, for the rest of eternity, her spirit would drag anyone who visits the place of her execution away to the gallows. After so many years, her spirit remains weak, but it is perpetually gathering strength, and the more people who visit the site, the stronger she gets. Eventually, anyone who trespasses on the cursed ground will be found dead.

When Kimberly and I arrived to hunt the cache at that location, we came upon some folks in a vehicle testing out Gravity Hill for themselves, but they drove off as we approached. After I found the cache — which is housed in a most appropriate container for the site — I parked my car at a point that is, to my senses, absolutely the bottom of the slope; shifted into neutral; and sat back to let the witch do her worst.

She didn't do too badly. My little Ford Focus gathered momentum and rolled well over a hundred feet up the rather steep slope before shaking itself free of the witch's grasp.

Here's a more mundane explanation of the phenomenon, but it was clearly devised by some poor soul who had not the nerve to reveal the reality of ye olde witch and her curse: wikipedia.org/Gravity_hill.

You've no idea how lucky I consider myself for having survived not one but two of these infernal cursed places — not to mention having tramped with my own little feet upon ye old Devill's Tramping Ground, down south of here a ways. I tempts me some fate, I do.

Beating the Devil and Haw, Haw, Haw

Old Rodan at the Devil's Tramping Ground

Any weekend is a good weekend for geocaching, and on this one, the caching was good indeed. Lots of high-quality hides — from Siler City to Sanford to Pittsboro, from underground to far higher than folks rightfully ought to put their feet. Saturday, Bridget "Suntigres" Langley and I got together and headed south toward the Devil's Tramping Ground, not far from Siler City. Several years ago, I had gone there in what proved a vain attempt to make the cache there my 2,000th find, and again the following year to hunt a most excellent night cache ("Hell on Earth," GC1GZNP). My target, "Devil's Caching Ground" (GC1GKYR), missing when I had previously hunted it, had been replaced, and yesterday's hunt proved successful, making it find #6,499. Thanks to some ornery briers, I managed to shed some blood at Tramping Ground, so there's no telling what evil may result. Beware. After that, we targeted several other well-conceived hides, such as "True Love Always" (GC3CEMX), a very engaging multi, and "Sanford's RbC" (GC2BM3B), which allowed me to enjoy some deep, deep shade on a ridiculously warm December day.

No sleeping in this morning. Up before dawn to meet Rob "Robgso" Isenhour to head over to the Haw River, near Pittsboro, where we joined a group of about 18 folks for a hike along the rather rugged, exceedingly scenic river trail. Rob and I had gone caching there several months ago, along with Shoffner (a.k.a. Cupdaisy) but had been unable to find four out of ten bison tube hides along the trail. This time, with all those eyes and tactile appendages, we were able to find those and make a clean run of the series. The Haw River in this area is wide and very rocky, the west side oftentimes very steep and strewn with giant boulders. The climbing is strenuous, but the views are often spectacular.

One of the caches we visited involved walking across a narrow dam for fifty or sixty feet to reach an old pump house. Audra "Homestyle" Webb and her son, Zachary, were frothing at the mouth to undertake this particular terrain challenge, so off they went, accompanied by Lonnie "MBD" Drain for moral support. It took a bit of time, but they finally managed to find the cache, and they made the crossing both ways without ending up as fish food. Good for them, bad for the fish. Sorry, fish.

The hunt for what turned out to be my favorite cache of the day — "TowerLand" (GC235TA) — took us to an old fire tower just outside Pittsboro. Posting here that the cache is somewhere on the tower spoils nothing, as the cache page itself gives you a fair idea of the sort of challenge you face. The tower has clearly stood there for many, many years, and it's seen better days. Just getting to the level where we might begin our ascent in earnest required some serious effort, and a few of our number inadvertently provided some entertaining acrobatics both coming and going. After finding the cache, some of the crew continued all the way to the top; I opted to forgo this particular pleasure, mainly because, every now and then, MBD would give the tower a good shake, and I was never quite certain the whole construct wasn't going to come crashing down. At any rate, it was on our party's descent that the real entertainment began. A couple of the climbers, whom I will call Karen "e-bird67" Grigg and young Homekid, absolutely could not find their way off the tower. Coaching, coaxing, cajoling, pleading, and threatening proved ultimately useless. These poor souls may yet be up there, soon to become mere skeletons swaying in the breeze to warn others from undertaking such frightfully energetic adventures.

Do beware, and have a happy and safe holiday season.

Click images to enlarge.

"Mom! Uncle Rob is getting high!"

Can Audra be trapped in this prison drain forever? Let's hope not!

L: Audra and Lonnie make their way across the dam to find the cache. R: Rocking the tower!

Smile!