Geocaching at High Rock Ford and Other Adventures

Brugger had one of her semi-regular artsy-craftsy retreats this weekend in Hillsborough, NC, which isn't too far from Mebane, NC, which is where Catrina's Tequila & Taco Bar is, which is one of our favorite Mexican restaurants, which led us to decide that I should go geocaching in that area today so we could meet up for lunch after she was finished with her retreat. The weather forecast called for significant rain today, but after I'd been out of bed for about an hour and things hadn't gotten particularly wet, I reckoned I was gonna give this plan a go.

 

I went first to the High Rock Ford trail along the Haw River in Rockingham County, where a relatively new multi-stage cache awaited my attention. I've gone geocaching in that area many times, but I wasn't aware of this trail or its history. Apparently, prior to the Battle of Guilford Courthouse during the Revolutionary War, both the British and Continental armies set up camps here. It's a beautiful area, and I love discovering places with that kind of history. It wasn't a long or difficult hike, and I found the cache, so I call that a win across the board.

 

After completing the multi, I headed over to Elon University in Alamance County to hunt a couple of more caches and check on the status of one of mine (happily, it was fine). Then I made my way eastward, snagged a handful of other caches, and met Ms. B. at Catrina's. It was kind of fun because we got there at exactly the same time, coming from opposite directions. In our experience, the food and service at Catrina's has always been top-notch; it's been one of the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars' favorite destinations since those particular miscreants and I started caching together many, many years ago. And so it was today — great margaritas, great street tacos, and especially great salsa. I suspect it was the farthest I've ever gone for a lunch date, but it was with Kimberly, so it was worth the torture of geocaching and otherwise having a nice time. Plus, the only rain we got was a relatively brief downpour near Danville on our way home.

 

Put me down for more days like this one.

Remains

 

L: The Fungi from Yuggoth; R: High Rock

Back on the Geocaching Trail

Here you see Two Old Farts (Old Rodan, left, and Old Diefebnaker, right) wondering what the hell kind of curve balls life has been throwing at them. Our longtime third wheel, Old Rob, is facing a profoundly critical time, and another of our best geocaching friends, Night-Hawk (a.k.a. Tom) is in a different but potentially equally serious place. All of us are struggling to come to grips with these facts in our own ways. All this comes amid the biggest life change Brugger and I have willfully undertaken since we decided to share space in each other’s lives going on fourteen years ago.

Change comes hard.

During the month of May, I made exactly four geocaching trips, two no more than quick jaunts, and this constitutes the least amount of caching in a month’s time since the genesis of my geocaching days back in 2008. For all these years, caching has been an ongoing and what I would call the most immersive and invigorating activity of my adult life. For both Old Rob and Night-Hawk, geocaching has been a defining aspect of their personalities.

Anyway, today, Scott and I ventured forth to the Cane Creek Mountains Natural Area just south of Burlington. A new trail system has opened up (the Oak Hill Trails) adjacent to the original area (Pine Hill Trails). Eventually, the two will connect. Anyway, four new caches recently came out on the Oak Hill Trails, so Scott and I took it as our task to go out and hunt them. We did this thing, found two other newish caches in Burlington proper, and then did the Simply Thai lunch thing in Elon, as tradition demanded.

Ms. B. and I have plenty of tasks piled up to conquer, so this evening, we’re conquering them. Well parts of them. Big parts. Or at least medium-size parts.

Parts is parts.

Lovely little picnic area in the foundation of an old cabin

The Giant Claw

A little dam and reservoir hiding in the woods near the trail

View from below the dam

The Cache Maintenance Department

I’ve worked in a bit of geocache hunting this past couple of weeks, but mostly I’ve been out and about either setting up new caches or fixing up old ones that have fallen on hard times. I ventured out to Elon University a couple of times to set up a new Adventure Lab cache (which put me close to Simply Thai restaurant at lunchtime, so there’s a no-brainer). Worked in a hike on the Haw River Trail in Swepsonville for a couple of first-to-finds. And the Three Old Farts — Old Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob), and Old Rodan (a.k.a. me) — got in an of outing out east, which included a fine lunch at Hillsborough BBQ Company. I’ve been craving hiking for exercise, particularly since during the winter the outdoor activities tend to be less frequent, but I’ve managed a pretty good job of it.

I did have a game of indoor golf with friend Terry at Under Par Golf Lounge in Kernersville, but the less said about that the better. I was once quite the avid golfer, but I play too infrequently these days to have developed even the slightest sense of rhythm, timing, etc., so I suspect I might better stick with geocaching.

High Haw, high Haw...

High, rushing water at the Haw River Trail in Swepsonville

...Is where I drew some blood...

Strayhorn family graveyard near Hillsborough

Old farts on parade — Old Dude, Old Rob, Old Diefenbaker

Owl Rock Revisited and I Say, Are You Blind?!

I’m sure it’s plain to those of you who pop by to visit now and again that many of my blogs are primarily for me to record events that I want to look back fondly upon, and this is one of those.

Actually, I wasn’t all that fond of the earlier hours of this morning, as a migraine set in soon after I dragged myself out of bed. On the upside, after the visual aura wore off, the headache was very mild, almost non-existent — which was good because I had geocaching on the schedule and lots of creative work to dive into afterward. I still have a bunch of that on the docket, so this won’t be a lengthy entry.

I was planning to hit the trail at Shallow Ford Natural Area to check on the presence/condition of one of my very old geocaches, which a geocacher had reported as possibly missing. However, a new cache was published this morning in Altamahaw, not far from Shallow Ford, so I detoured to it and claimed the almost-but-not-quite-coveted first-to-find honors. Then I made my way to Shallow Ford to check on “Owl Rock” (GC2HM9H), so named due to the stack of rocks someone put up along the trail many years ago; some say it doesn’t really look like an owl, but no comment. Happily, the cache wasn’t missing. It was right where it was supposed to be, but it did need a little cleaning up. Once I’d handled that chore, it occurred to me that there is an old hunting blind along the trail, and a cache had resided within it once upon a time. That one has been long archived, so I decided to put a new one in its place. It’s called “I Say, Are You Blind?!”, and I’m hoping the geocaching reviewer will be able to publish it sooner than later.

Afterward, since it was about lunchtime, I drove the short distance down to Simply Thai in Elon and tore into some delicious chicken lettuce wraps, which were screaming hot (I might have overdone the dumping of chili pepper oil on them). And then it was back to Casa di Rodan to continue taking care of business.

And now... see you later.

Old dude on the hunt in Altamahaw

I say, are you blind?!

Memorable Memorial Day Weekend

Never do I forget what Memorial Day is actually about. Every year, I welcome the reminder to reflect on how those who gave their lives in the service of our country have helped shape the quality of life I enjoy every day, regardless of the trials and pitfalls that being alive inevitably brings. I expect few of us have not known someone, or multiple someones, who died in the country’s service. As a student of history, particularly military history, I believe it is paramount to understand the ideals and sacrifices made by those who have come before us.

That said, I feel no compunction about relishing life and the opportunities for joy on this day — or any other, for that matter — and this weekend has offered a welcome respite from numerous stressors, most specifically the brutally sad job of dealing with my mom and brother’s deaths. The resolutions for both estates are progressing in their ways, and the depth of grief, if not truly diminished, is generally more manageable than it was for some long time. Still, this is the hardest, most stressful time of life I’ve ever known, and the accompanying fatigue, both emotional and physical, has at times thrown me for unexpected loops. Add the stressors of the pandemic — now somewhat lessening, thank Yog, since I opted to bear the unthinkable risk of taking the COVID-19 vaccine (yes, that is a dig at you, some of you unconscionable fucks) — and it is fairly safe to say that, at the very least, life is not boring.

As for My World and Welcome to It, I did something on Friday evening I haven’t done in ages: stay up till the wee hours watching movies without falling asleep halfway through. These days, I tend to be vigorous until about 8:00 p.m., zonk for an hour, then get a second wind that lasts until about midnight, give or take an hour. But for whatever reason, the other night, 20-year-old Mark saw a resurgence, and somewhere around 11 p.m., I started John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness, which I have not seen in at least three decades. It was about as I remembered: intriguing in its way, but not nearly as polished or engaging as Carpenter’s films that came directly before or after. Once Prince of Darkness was over, undaunted by fatigue, I took to searching the Roku for something entertaining and, eventually, settled on Splinter (2008). This one struck me as the perfect late-night (roughly synonymous with “drive-in”) horror flick. This ran until damn near 3:00 a.m., at which time I contemplated starting something new. Alas, by then, the old body had begun to argue. I shuffled off to the bedroom and slept till almost 9 the next morning, which is not an “Old Mark” thing to do, not by a long shot. Generally, I am up far earlier, despite my most fervent hopes, wishes, and dreams.

Saturday morning, a couple of new geocaches awaited my attention, one of which was dedicated to friend Old Rob (a.k.a Old Rob), placed by devious friend Ms. Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie). This one took some serious hunting, in difficult terrain and oppressive heat and humidity. But find it we did, and thus earned the ever-dubious first-to-find honors. Afterward, I found another of Ms. FDTS’s new hides before returning to Casa di Rodan. Toward evening, Brugger and I drove Burlington way for another nice cache, and then we settled ourselves for wonderful dinner at Simply Thai in Elon. Following, we watched the 2009 remake of The Taking of Pelham 123. We had just watched the original, an old favorite of mine, a while back, so we wanted to compare. The new one wasn’t bad, not by a long shot, but it remains inferior to the original 1974 classic.

American Gothic, the Creeple People edition

Yesterday, the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars — this weekend’s incarnation comprising the aforementioned Old Rob and Ms. Fish — headed to Winston-Salem, first and foremost to put the finishing details on my brother’s house so that it can be listed on the real estate market this coming week; secondly to hunt geocaches. Most happily, we avenged a couple of DNF (Did Not Find) attempts from a while back, and we discovered a loverly trail system in historic Bethania that includes an old mill and a scenic, serene graveyard dating back to the early 1700s. We had lunch at Village Tavern in Reynolda Village, which has, historically, been one of our favorite destinations for mealtime on geocaching days. The food was its typically good self, but service was S.L.O.W. beyond the bounds of reason, considering the place appeared to have more than adequate staff for the number of patrons. Now, I am willing to give any establishment the benefit of the doubt for the occasional unsatisfactory experience, and given the number of places needing help, I wonder if there wasn’t some training of new folks happening at the time. That being the case, I am very understanding of the situation, and I just hope things will improve. No, Village Tavern has not struck out with me, not by a long shot.

This morning, a single Old Rob cache lurked out on the Owl’s Roost trail near Bur-Mil park, so Ms. FDTS and I met at 10:00 a.m. and hiked out to it. We managed to find the little bugger after a relatively brief search. Then we headed over to the nearby Palmetto Trail so I could perform maintenance on one of my really old hides (“No Dead Baby Jokes, Please” [GC2YVWF].

And that brings me around to where I am. Remember why Memorial Day is what it is; get yourself vaccinated, if you haven’t undertaken this ungodly monstrous risk; and try to treat your neighbor better than I do. That can’t be very damned hard.

Old dude’s playhouse? Old dudes will play, after all.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter.

Old feller with one foot in the grave

No wonder the British lost; Cornwallis’s road peters out after just a couple of hundred feet.

Happy Fogsgiving

I think it’s safe to say I have never seen — or at least driven in — fog as thick as what’s out there tonight. I damn near got lost in my own neighborhood. I mean, I couldn’t even see my own driveway as I drove up to it. A fog advisory came in on my phone earlier this evening, and it was apparently no joke.

While Thanksgiving Day was mellow and relaxing, it wouldn’t have been any different for Brugger and me even if there were no pandemic. After several years of gatherings with Mom in the grip of dementia, which made for some measure of stress during the holidays, Ms. B. and I were all about enjoying some special time for the two of us. Last year at this time, we had just moved Mom into a nursing home, so it was the first Thanksgiving in several years that we were able to truly relax. And now, with Mom gone, it’s actually easier to feel some of the warmth we all shared during happier times in the past.

Thanksgiving and Black Friday tend to offer up geocaching opportunities, and today was no exception. A couple of newer hides on the university campus over in Elon awaited my attention, so I headed out mid-morning to see what I might make of them. One was a find, the other was not, which surprised me not at all, as the coordinates are apparently some distance off-target, and after having been live for over a week, no one has yet found it. I did enjoy the hunt, though, especially as the campus was deserted and I could search unimpeded in what would have otherwise been a very busy location.

Brugger and I shared dinner prep duties, augmented with some exceptionally good mulled wine she concocted. Dinner was the very traditional turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and Toblerone cheesecake. I fixed up some killer deviled eggs for starters. It were a damn fine feast, that’s what it were!

For the afternoon and evening, we entertained ourselves with a triple-feature film festival: 1917, The Hidden, and Return of the Living Dead. A fine progression it turned out to be — from serious brilliance to silly alien shoot-’em-up action to hysterically funny fluff. Believe you me, I will take it.

I hope your Thanksgiving Day proved as satisfying. I know many are struggling with the inability to enjoy traditional holiday gatherings with friends and family. But if you are, please know you are doing the right thing for yourselves and others. I know too many people who have suffered from the effects of COVID-19, either themselves or their loved ones. You must know I lost my mom to COVID-19. I personally know many health professionals who are on the front lines. My daughter is a medical researcher at Columbia University Medical Center in NYC. The people who understand this threat best, who are putting themselves out there to get us through it, deserve to be respected. To be honored. Do the right things. Protect yourselves and your neighbors. Please.

Happy Thanksgiving.

As the Last Year of my Fifth Decade Begins...

Old Rodan at "A Point in the Distance" (GCMF98)

Most years since I started Geocaching (in 2008), I've taken a day off work at my birthday to go out on the hunt. This year, however, timing-wise and work-wise, it didn't work out, but next weekend — all the forces of the universe cooperating — I'm anticipating an outing with Ms. Brugger to go in search of Geocache #10,000. Hoping for all good things on this front.

I had plotted something of an early birthday surprise for Ms. B., so on Friday, she and I went to Martinsville where she was treated to a wine glass painting class at Piedmont Arts Association (where I once exhibited and taught art back in the dawn of man). For good measure, I joined her in this endeavor, and we painted ourselves some nice wine glasses, which I'm certain will be put to good use. We also got to drink wine and eat good food at the event, so there was happiness to go around.

Despite being only a handful of caches away from hitting the big milestone, I managed to get in some highly satisfying hunting this weekend. To provide some context: yesterday was what is known in certain esoteric circles as "Crunken Dorking Day," a tradition that came about some time ago when Kimberly and friend Beth N. got together to do crafting with wine corks. Of course wine was involved, and an attempt by one of them to say "drunken corking" came out as "crunken dorking," and the name stuck. So yesterday morning, we trucked over to Winston-Salem so that the ladies might crunk some dorks, and I hit the caching trail.

Twice over the years I had gone after a truly mean hide in Horizons Park called "David & Diana's Bane" (GCQFJ4), but because getting to the logsheet involves spending an inordinate amount of time in one spot — usually interfering with valuable, limited caching time — I had simply given up. Because I could only claim a scant few before hitting the big #10K, I figured this was the time to give it a go. The cache is a great big water bottle filled with a couple hundred film canisters, and only one of them contains the log sheet. Because of the shape of the water bottle, you can only shake out one canister at a time, and as you might imagine, this process might tax the patience of the less-than-patient among us. Well, several years and 98 film canisters later, I have finally claimed "David & Diana's Bane." And so glad am I to put this one to rest....

The other rather beastly one is called "A Point in the Distance" (GCMF98), a multi-stage cache which requires calculating the coordinates of the final stage by determining the convergence point of two bearings from separate waypoints several miles apart. This involved finding a container at Horizons Park, then at another park some distance to the south. Happily, I had discovered an online tool to calculate coordinates for just such a problem, and so I was able to finally put this cache to rest as well. The travel between waypoints and the hiking involved to each stage made this one the day's most challenging endeavor.

Ms. B. and I then spent a most pleasant evening of dinner, wine, and great company with friends Terry and Beth. By the time we got home, quite late last night, at least one of us fell over and went boom.

My old friend Bog Turtle (a.k.a. Beth W.), caching partner extraordinaire from too many years back, was in town for a few days, so today, we met with the notorious Cupdaisy (a.k.a. Debbie) at Hagan Stone Park to hike and hunt caches — I limited myself to four, though Beth and Debbie picked up several others along the way. Things started out peaceably enough, with some relatively easy trail hiking and a few nice finds. But the placement of a few newer caches out there had us in a quandary. Should we go back to the road and approach the caches as the cache owner (CO) recommended? Or just power on through all kinds of unknown terrain? We opted for the latter, which, as you may have by now guessed, was not the world's best idea ever.

The official Geocaching Terrain Difficulty Scale goes from 1 to 5, 1 being the easiest, 5 being the hardest. As I led the parade through thick woods and across broad power line cuts, I managed to land us in some areas of about Terrain 8. I am not going to say that we clambered over an electrified fence onto private property, went some distance, and then repeated the process to return to park property (the shortest individual in the party making a spectacular flying leap), but I suppose any witnesses who might have been in the area would say someone did. (Nor will I mention that we signed the cache logs as "The Electric Company.") And there was blood. Not mine, but at least one among us (okay, it was Beth W.) decided that the creed devised by our mutual caching buddy Robgso — "If you don't bleed, you're not having fun" — is not one to take lightly.

We finished our outing by meeting Ms. B. for an excellent lunch at The Fat Frogg in Elon. Their "Poison Dart" hot sauce, which I put on some excellent chicken tenders, has one powerful burn, and they make a mean Bloody Mary. By the time I got back home, I fell over and went boom. I may do it again before the night is over.

Current cache count is 9,997. And happy trails to you.

Ms. Bog Turtle was hollering "Giddyup! Go! Giddyup! Go!" But it wouldn't go.