Showing posts with label Georgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Georgia. Show all posts

Thursday, September 3, 2026

Distant Early Warning: KOLCHAK: ERAS Booksigning

So, this is happening...

KOLCHAK ERAS BOOK SIGNING
September 16, 4–6 p.m.
Dr. No's Comics & Games Superstore
3372 Canton Rd, Ste 104
Marietta, GA 30066


FEATURED AUTHORS/EDITORS:
Lev Butts • Old Dude
James AquiloneNancy A. CollinsBobby NashCliff BiggersCharles R Rutledge
 

Saturday, November 22, 2025

Georgia on my Mind...Again (or Still)

Home away from home in Gainesville, Georgia—the "Blue Bungalow"
Back in July of last year, old friend, horror aficionado extraordinaire, and head honcho of the storied Overlook Connection, Dave Hinchberger, along with his wife, LeeAnn, of Atlanta, Georgia, graced Brugger and me with their presences at our home in Virginia. So, Ms. B. and I decided then and there that we needed to make another pilgrimage to the Peach State and punish these people for their egregious trespasses. We calculated that, while we were at it, we could also subject friend/fellow author Leverett Butts, as well as my cousin and namesake, Mark Bell, both of whom live in the area, to our lunatic ravings. So, we conferred with all the parties involved and set the date for a new sojourn—the week before Thanksgiving (a.k.a. now).
 
But then...poor Mr. Moose. A few weeks ago, our cat, Moose, came down with pancreatitis (see "Mr. Moose," November 7, 2025), which was pretty serious, but he's come through it all reasonably well. Regardless, Kimberly did not feel that she could go away with him still needing medication and a strictly regulated feeding schedule. So, since plans had already been engraved in some pretty heavy stone, with Ms. B.'s blessing, I decided to make the pilgrimage myself, as I have on several previous occasions. I'm very sad that Ms. B. couldn't make it because I know she would have had a hell of a good time, but so much of my fondness for coming to Georgia hearkens back to my long personal history here.

So, this week, I'm making some more personal history.


Wednesday, November 19, 2025
For the first time in decades, I made the trip to Gainesville without any major traffic and/or construction woes. Make no mistake, the interstate was wall-to-wall traffic, but with nary a single significant slowdown along the way (although the plethora of relatively new traffic lights on US 129 between I-85 and Gainesville are enough to make the Pope say "Goddamn!"). It was about a seven-hour drive, counting a 20-minute lunch and several pee and geocaching stops. In Gaffney, South Carolina, there's a big water tower in the shape of a peach (called the Peachoid), which I've passed countless times since I was a kid, but a couple of newish caches there—one a virtual and one a traditional—led me to visit it for the first time ever. It's kind of a cool landmark.
 
I rolled into Gainesville about 3:15 p.m. and settled in at the AirBnB we had reserved (it's called the "Blue Bungalow"). Since Ms. B. isn't here, it's more than plenty spacious. It's located in a very familiar area, only a couple of blocks from where my grandparents lived. A few of my other relatives lived nearby as well. Also, my mom went to elementary school right around the corner from here; the site is still a school, though it's a much newer building than in her day.
 
Since it's only about a mile to downtown from the B&B, I set out on foot to hunt down dinner. I was not surprised to find myself making a slight detour to walk past my grandparents' old place. On a previous trip, I met the current owners, which was very pleasant, but they did not appear to be at home this evening. Before I even left Martinsville, I had already decided to seek dinner at Bourbon Brothers Smokehouse & Tavern, just off the town square, and this proved to be an excellent choice. I had a brisket sandwich with fries and a Buffalo Trace Old Fashioned, both of which about made me stand up and holler. I didn't, but I almost did.
Hell yeah, brisket...
After I was done, I wandered around the square a little, as it looked to be hopping. Even since my two visits here in 2022, there are tons of new shops and dining/drinking establishments, and I expect I'll be sampling a few of them before I head out on Sunday. Again, it really is a pity that Brugger isn't here because she I know she would go ga-ga over a bunch of these places.
 
By the time I hoofed it back to the Bungalow, it was well after dark. I still needed a few provisions, so I drove to the nearby Publix supermarket and stocked up on some goodies. I worked on this blog for a bit, and then...crashing time. Sitting in a car most of the day is always exhausting.
 
Tomorrow, I plan to have lunch with Mr. Butts, and on Friday, I'll be heading to Atlanta to visit with the Hinchbergers. For tonight, I are done.
Evening falls on Gainesville's town square

Thursday, November 20, 2025
I woke up pretty early, made eggs for breakfast, and, once I got going, set out after some geocaches in the area. Most of these were of the simple park & grab variety, though a couple were innovative and unique. At 11:30 a.m., I rolled over to El Sombrero Mexican Restaurant, near the University of North Georgia, where Mr. Leverett Butts works (though he was off today), and met him for an excellent lunch. We carried on extensively about our writing adventures; Dark Shadows; monsters of all sorts, including, cats; and other such apt topics for a couple of scary writers. I mean, as in writers of scary things. Of course that's what I mean.
After we parted company, I hunted several more geocaches and found all but one. Actually, I'm pretty sure I found the cache container, but there was trick to opening it that I couldn't figure out from cache page description (late addendum: no, that was not the cache, for the cache owner wrote to give me a clue what to look for). I made another stop for a few extra supplies, and then I returned to the Blue Bungalow, where I caught up on some correspondence, blogged, and worked on my current novel. I decided that, rather than go out and eat again, I'd tear into some of the handy-dandy provisions I had picked up for just such a purpose. And since I'm venturing toward Atlanta tomorrow to have a first-class lunch with Dave and LeeAnn Hinchberger, I'm sure I shan't starve on this trip.

Then, rather than wandering down to the bustle and lights of the square again, I decided to take a long, mostly peaceful walk around my old stomping grounds. (The only non-peaceful part was crossing Green Street, both coming and going. It's one of the busiest roads anywhere, so getting from one side to the other is like playing Frogger. I got a couple of honks, but I survived.) One of my destinations was the nearby Ivy Terrace Park, where I spent tons of time and energy as a kid. In my teen years, when we'd come to visit my grandparents, Dad would strap our bicycles to the top of the station wagon, so when we got here, my brother and I went wild on them—frequently in the park. The city has installed lights along the trails, which are very pretty, but I don't think it's as much fun as wandering around there in the dark, like we used to.

I've posted pictures of it before, but here it is again (below). There's a little stone spring house in the park that's been there since my mom was a kid, and it looks just the same as it did when I was a young'un. I seem to recall finding a snake in there once.

It was kind of nice seeing many of the houses already decorated for Christmas. This really brings back so many wonderful ghosts of Christmas past, since I spent every Christmas from my very first year of life up through my late twenties at my Grandparents' place here in Gainesville.

That is gonna be it for my ramblings this evening. Tomorrow, I'll be up pretty early to head to Atlanta.

 
Friday, November 21, 2025
I had a feeling that the absence of traffic ills on the way from Martinsville to Gainesville was too good to last. The traffic woes between Gainesville and Atlanta today were damn near enough to put me off Atlanta. I've spent countless good times there over the past six-plus decades, and being there today was just something I really wanted—and kind of needed—to do. But on my way in, the last twenty miles on I-85 were a hellish, creeping horror. Then, when I left, it was a hellish, creeping horror for thirty-some miles outbound—the worst part being that the massive jams extended to every secondary road, back road, and residential road for miles and miles around. I know this because I left the interstate to travel them. It was a long, beyond-frustrating drive back to the Blue Bungalow, exacerbated by the fact that, by the time I hit the Gainesville city limits, I really had to pee.

Yeah, the photo to the left is of a random Atlanta building near where I was geocaching. It's the only photo I took in the city, except for a selfie of Dave, LeeAnn, and me, below:
Originally, I had planned to meet Dave and LeeAnn at the Steamhouse Lounge at 11:30 a.m. However, they had some stuff come up and moved the meeting time to 1:00 p.m. As it turned out, it's a good thing I set out early, since it took so damned long to get into the city. I still had time hunt a couple of geocaches, which was fun. Then, given the traffic situation, they were held up until past 1:30. I had parked my car in a nearby garage, and my space expired at 2:45. Since I wasn't in a position to get back there and add time to the total, we ended up having a relatively quick lunch. Still, I consider this some much-valued time together. Hopefully, wherever and whenever we gather again, Brugger will be able to make it.
 
Once finally back at my lodgings, I decided to shower, have a scotch, work on my blog, and listen to some 1960s lounge music. Hey, if I'm gonna be a bachelor here, I'm gonna go all at it. I ordered some sushi for dinner from Dynamite Sushi, Steak, & Grill and had it delivered by DoorDash, which I haven't done in forever. It was some right good dead fish, not to mention healthier than that delicious fried catfish and french fries I killed at lunch.
 
All in all, it would have been an altogether pleasant day in the city—geocaching, seeing good friends, and having an excellent lunch—if not for the round trip taking about three times longer than under less hellish traffic conditions.

I am a just about worn-out old dude, so I'm chilling for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow, it's more visiting, this time with my cousin, Mark. I expect I'll fit in some more caching for my last full day in town. And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna darken the doors of Southern Recess Gastropub, which has long been among my favorite dining establishments anywhere.
 
And thus, till laters.
Damned Rodan, Lounge Lizard

Saturday, November 22, 2025
This morning, I went over to visit my cousin, Mark Bell, and his wife, Sylvia, which was indeed a lovely time. They (and their children, who are about my age) are damn near my last living relatives on my mom's side. They have a very nice house not very far from here, and as it turns out, their son Robert knows the owner of this AirBnB, as they worked together for many years. Interesting how such connections randomly come about. I didn't think to take any photos this morning, but the photo below is Mark & Sylvia from 2013 (they hardly look any different!), when Kimberly, Mom, and I came to Gainesville, primarily so that Mom could attend her 60th high school class reunion.
For the afternoon, I braved the insanity of Gainesville's congested roads (shudder), and went geocaching for a couple of hours. It was pretty enjoyable, as I found all those that I hunted, including the one I did not find the other day. It turned out to be one of my favorite hide types.
 
Once back at the Blue Bungalow, I made myself clean and reasonably purty, and then walked downtown, where there was some variety of Christmas festival coming together. (I understand it's called "Jingle Mingle," and one of the highlights is lighting up a big-ass chicken sculpture on the city administration building; since way back when, Gainesville has been known as "The Poultry Capital of the World." I can attest to this by way of having suffered the reek of chicken processing plants around here on perhaps a few too many occasions in the past.). Tons of folks were migrating to the square, which was decorated for the occasion. My specific target was North Georgia BBQ & Oyster Shop, which I had settled on for dinner instead of Southern Recess, since I had never tried the former—and I love both BBQ and oysters. It was a good choice. I had a half-dozen raw oysters on the half shell, which were DAMNED delicious, with all kinds of sauce and seasonings, and some hot & spicy smoked chicken wings (they came with a large pile of celery and carrots, so at least I did get some veggies with this feast). Brugger and I are gonna plan to come back to Gainesville soon, and I know she'll go for the BBQ, though not the oysters. Leave that to me!

Afterward, I decided to try out a relatively new wine bar called Cork It, right there on the square. I tried a Washington Cabernet Sauvingnon, which was quite good. They had a small orchestra warming up to play Christmas music, but I didn't hang around long enough to give them a listen. Of all my discoveries in Gainesville on this trip, Cork It will be the one that Brugger will be most inclined to visit.
 
On my walk back from downtown, I snapped a few photos of some of the houses in the area, as they are among those that remain from the days of my youth. They include my grandparents' house, my great uncle & aunt's house, and a fair-sized mansion at Green Street & Forrest Ave, which I always loved. Back in the 1980s, when I was regularly doing pen & ink artwork, I drew all of these houses. Below, I'm posting the recent photos of those houses and my old pen & ink renderings of them.
Although the traffic and the rampant development here does not please me, as in not at all, Gainesville still feels like my second home, especially since I've renewed a great relationship with my cousin Mark and his wife, Sylvia. Being here brings home the fact that I am the last of my immediate family, and my brain is literally the last existing repository of intimate, personal knowledge of my parents, my brother, my grandparents, and other relatives. And so, on these personal blogs, I am inclined to write all the details I can, so that at least some of my most meaningful recollections will perhaps survive me in some fashion.
 
Tomorrow, I'm off for home, probably pretty early. Despite a couple of niggling physical issues that made functioning normally a bit harder than I like, not to mention the billions of metric tonnes of human beings stuffed into too small an area, I absolutely hope to continue returning to Gainesville for as long as I am able.
 
Arrivederci, America. 
Above: my grandparents' old place on Forrest Avenue as it appears currently, and my drawing of it from the 1980s
Above: my great uncle & aunt's former house on Park Street and my pen & ink rendering from 1980s; the only copy I have of this is a 3" x 5" postcard reproduction, so it's not as well-defined as the original.
Above: one of the classic Gainesville mansions on Green Street, taken today, and my pen & ink drawing of it from the 1980s

Saturday, January 6, 2024

Guns of the Wasteland by Leverett Butts


Mainly on my long daily walks, I've been listening to Lev Butts's Guns of the Waste Land series on Audible. It's Arthurian legend set in the wild west; stylish, with beautifully drawn characters, set in a colorful, immersive environment. Michael Hajiantonis's narration is masterful. The fourth and final part is due for release shortly. Y'all really need to check out the books, either in paperback or on Audible.

Lev is a hell of an author, and a while back, I met him on one of my trips to my old stomping grounds in Gainesville, GA (Tuesday, October 11, 2022 — "Sabbatical 2: Return to Georgia"). We hit it off nicely, and I consider him a valued friend and peer. I do hope we have a chance to get together again soon.

Sunday, January 1, 2023

A Carolina Beach New Year’s

Following what has become a longstanding New Year’s tradition, Brugger and I joined up with frequent traveling companions Terry & Beth to celebrate, this year bound for Carolina Beach, NC, about four hours down the road from us. Late morning on Friday, 12/30, Ms. B. and I departed Greensboro, and after stopping for lunch and a few geocaches, we arrived at our destination no more than five minutes before our compadres. None of us had been here before, so we weren’t sure what to expect crowd-wise; happily, the locale isn’t deserted, but neither do we face a huge and/or oppressive crush of homo sapiens. I suspect, however, that on our return trip, traffic will be a monster, particularly as we approach the fuckin Triad. Because it’s the fuckin Triad.
A lovely little graveyard we found while
geocaching on the way into Carolina Beach

Some time ago, food evangelist Guy Fieri apparently gave the nearby Cork and Fork restaurant a glowing recommendation on Drive-Ins, Diners, and Dives, and it’s now Carolina Beach’s top-rated restaurant. So, for dinner, we decided to check it out. It’s an appealing enough location, with a menu that features a wide variety of burgers, eclectic bar food, and an extensive wine list. Unfortunately, they did not have our first wine selection in stock, nor any of their renowned duck wings, which I had hoped to sample. We ended up ordering a bottle of a decent syrah, and I went for the Hay Dios Mio burger, a massive construct of dead cow, chipotle mayo, jalapeño jack cheese, ghost pepper jack cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, avocado, and jalapeños on a brioche bun. Make no mistake, it was danged good, yet I couldn’t say that it racks up with some of the better burgers we can snag back home. That said, apart from some of our choices being unavailable, we had no complaints about the food.

Afterward, we hung out in our apartment for a while, mostly sampling various treats we had on hand. A late and most enjoyable night it turned out to be.

Saturday, 12/31, most of us slept in until at least 8:00 a.m. (we are old) and, once up, drank massive — MASSIVE — quantities of Good Morning America. Brugger and I took a long walk on the beach, which was shrouded with a dense layer of fog. This fit in perfectly with tradition, I reckon, for each New Year’s that we’ve spent at the beach, thick fog has been a constant companion. Hey, I like it.
A foggy morning on the beach
A well-fed seagull taking flight, caught by Ms. B.’s camera
Eventually, we trucked up to Wilmington proper, where we found vittles and wine (a lovely syrah) at a little place called The Vine. I ordered a trio of pulled pork sliders, which I rate very, very high on the scale of pulled pork goodness. The service and atmosphere were perfect, so we give top marks all around to The Vine.

We rambled forth, shopped, geocached, and eventually ended up at another little wine bar called The Fortunate Glass. Fact: this wine bar has the most extensive wine list of any establishment in my experience that I can recall. It took a while, but we selected a bottle of wine — this one an incredible Crianza — and ordered a few munchies (or maybe a few too many munchies). I chose a paté plate that I thought would probably be a wee appetizer-type thingummy, but no... it was a massive bunch of puréed dead critter, and though I enjoyed it, it was too much to finish.

I grabbed a few more geocaches, one at a fascinating location — a military surplus store at which one may find a vintage jet fighter, a couple of cannons, and a few other examples of military hardware parked right out front. The geocache lurks in a somewhat difficult-to-access location amid the fixtures, which presented me with an unexpected challenge. Eventually, I ended up calling geocaching buddy Mike, a.k.a. MWFerrell65, who lives in the Triangle but — coincidentally — happened to be caching in the Carolina Beach/Wilmington area at the same time as us. How handy!

Back at our apartment, we hung out and made merry for a while. Ms. B. and I took another long walk on the beach before heading back to prepare for the chiming of the hour. That put our hoofing-it distance at about four miles for the day. Once again settled in our place, we celebrated the changing of the year with a toast — not champagne but some excellent red wine.

Woo-fuckin-hoo, goodbye, 22.
Terry, Beth, Brugger, Old Dude
The jet plane appears to have sprouted a pair of legs. Wonder what that could be about?
Our Carolina Beach lodgings by night
The bombs bursting in air a mile or so up the beach
Sunday, 1/1/23: Most of us (well, only Brugger, really) slept in a bit later than usual. Once we were all up and going (hurry up, Brugger!), we buzzed back to Wilmington, where we took to wandering along the Cape Fear River on the River Walk. We found lunch at a nice enough establishment called Rooster & The Crow. Again, a few menu items were unavailable, but none of us came away hungry. I had fried chicken, one of their house specialties. Not bad — though, again, no more remarkable than the fare we can find at numerous joints back home. Mind you, I’m so not complaining, for I quite understand the difficulties resulting from supply issues, and none of us are scratching the earth to seek subsistence. It was all a treat, as far as I am concerned.

Once done with the feeding frenzy, we split up — Terry to hunt drinks and football at a sports bar; Brugger and Beth to shop for all kinds of shopping things; and I to geocache. I found a bunch — enough to damn near clear out Wilmington’s historic district. A couple of these were ingenious, highly creative hides, and I had a physical challenge or two to keep me invigorated. A lovely afternoon indeed!

And tomorrow... off we go.
The USS North Carolina, seen from Wilmington’s River Walk
Another view as the sun settled lower in the sky
Our last toast as our evening drew to a close
Some great things happened in 2022. The most significant include the releases of my collection, Fugue Devil: Resurgence from Black Raven Books, and my latest entry in Elizabeth Massie’s Ameri-Scares series for young readers, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill from Crossroad Press. On the writing front, I’ve got a new novel in the works as well as a new editing gig — easily the biggest such project I’ve taken on in decades. It will be announced in the coming weeks. Now, it behooves me to ask: if you’ve read any of my work, please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads, or any site that will help spread the word. Reviews are critical to authors, and I assure you, every little bit helps. I very much appreciate everyone who has taken the time to post a review, whether short and to the point or long and in-depth.

Early in 2022, I retired from my position of 23 years at The Mailbox, although I continue to do freelance work for the company. Brugger and I took a few trips to Michigan to visit her parents, who are still managing pretty well on their own but are reaching that age where they need a bit more assistance. In the fall, Kimberly and I also visited Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, which is one of my favorite places on Earth. Such a beautiful location, with countless waterfalls, trails, quaint little towns, massive forests, and many opportunities for hiking and geocaching (I claimed my 14,000th geocache in Michigan on our Thanksgiving trip, thus maintaining my average of about 1,000 cache finds per year).

In May, Ms. B. and I spent an excellent week in Chicago, visiting my old stomping grounds and many good friends from days of yore — Bill Gudmundson, Ed Godziszewski, Bob Issel, and more. On this trip, we spent a few days in Nashville, TN, and saw Colin Hay perform; an excellent show. The only downside was that we came home with the covidz. Fortunately, they turned out to be very mild cases.

In July, I attended my first Necon in a quarter of a century. Reigniting some personal relationships, building new ones, and simply hanging out with so many of my peers in the writing business was the proverbial breath of fresh air and helped jump-start some projects I’ve had in mind to produce.

I made two pilgrimages to Gainesville, Georgia, where I spent so much time as a youth at my grandparents’ place (and in the fall, I made a day trip to my old alma mater, the University of Georgia, in Athens). The highlight of my most recent visit was making the personal acquaintance of author and professor Leverett Butts, whose book, Guns of the Waste Land: Departure, I reviewed here. I will be speaking to his literature class about Fugue Devil: Resurgence coming up in February.

In November, after far too long, I was able to visit with friend, fellow writer, and proprietor of Crossroad Press, Mr. David Niall Wilson, plus his wife, Trish, and their family in Hertford, NC. That was an excellent, memorable, and much-needed trip. We’ve all been friends for many, many years, but it’s far too rare for our paths to cross. I hope the next gap between visits isn’t nearly so long.

Along with all the loveliness, challenges and stressors aplenty struck over the course of the year, though none as dire as those we dealt with during those years of my mom’s long decline and eventual passing and then my brother succumbing to leukemia. It’s clear that 2023 will pose plenty of challenges of its own; I hope we all not only weather them but prosper in every respect.

Be well, and Happy Fookin’ New Year to the lot of ye.

Wednesday, December 14, 2022

Have Yourself a Scary Little Christmas!

In the Gotta Do It Department: Plug my 2022 book releases for the holidays. These really are great gifts that will chill you year-round. My collection, Fugue Devil: Resurgence (Black Raven Books) features a dozen of my most frightening horror tales, including the original novelette, “The Fugue Devil” and its sequel, “The Devil’s Eye.” This one is not for sissies! NOTE: From NOW until DECEMBER 26, the Kindle edition is available for $2.99! Also available in paperback and limited hardback editions.

For the younger set — or adults who enjoy fun, creepy ghost stories — my latest entry in Elizabeth Massie’s Ameri-Scares series, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill (Crossroad Press) is available in ebook and paperback editions. This one is set on the shores of Lake Sidney Lanier, long reputed to be haunted. Can these frightening stories of unexplainable things rising out of those deep, dark waters somehow be true?

Saturday, November 5, 2022

NOW AVAILABLE! Ameri-Scares Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill


My newest novel in Elizabeth Massie’s Ameri-Scares series for young readers — Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill is now on the loose from Crossroad Press!

In the 1950s, Lake Sidney Lanier was built in northern Georgia. Since then, hundreds of deaths on and around the lake have given rise to legends that spirits of the dead haunt the area. Teenager Aaron Tate, who lives near the lake with his parents, doesn’t believe in ghosts. But after he witnesses a jet ski accident on the water, he begins to experience many strange things. At night, weird lights float through the woods near the lake’s edge. An eerie voice in the darkness calls to him. He begins having nightmares that involve a strange woman from the past.

Aaron meets a girl named Suzette Sellers, who has moved into his neighborhood. They become friends and, together, resolve to learn the truth behind the frightening events. Aaron learns that his family home was built on the site of an old mill that belonged to his ancestors. Suzette’s house stands on land once owned by a woman named Lula Cheshire—a woman who was rumored to be a witch. And Aaron discovers that his great-great-grandfather, Charles Tate, might have had a strange and secret relationship with Lula Cheshire.

When events in Aaron’s life begin to mirror those of his great-great-grandfather, he wonders: do ghosts truly exist? What if Lula Cheshire really was a witch? And has the long-dead woman’s spirit returned from the grave to wreak vengeance for some crime his great-great-grandfather, Charles Tate, committed against her? He and Suzette must learn the truth—and send Lula Cheshire’s spirit back to the grave—before death comes to claim both of them!

The Ameri-Scares books are aimed at the younger set, but they're also great fun for those of us who might be considered... uh... a bit more seasoned.

Available in ebook and paperback. 

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

Sabbatical 2: Return to Georgia

A nice evening view from what must surely be the only traffic-free road anywhere near Gainesville
In early spring of this year, I spent a few days in Gainesville, GA, where my mom grew up; where my folks met and got married; and where, at my grandparents’ place, I spent some of the most heavenly days of my youth (see “Sabbatical,” March 1, 2022). That trip largely involved researching my Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill, which is now long finished and in the queue for publication by Crossroad Press. Since then, I’ve made the virtual acquaintance of fellow author Leverett Butts, who lives in the Gainesville area and with whom I’ll be sharing the contents page of the upcoming Kolchak: The Night Stalker anthology from Moonstone Books. During these past few months, I’ve been craving a return to my Georgia stomping grounds, so, this week, I’m heading back to do some further stomping. And come Wednesday, I anticipate meeting Mr. Butts in the flesh.

Monday, October 10, 2022
It wasn’t much past dawn that I rose this morning (with considerable help from a passel of cats). I had packed up last night, so there was little for me to do other than shower, feed animals, kiss Ms. B., and hit the road. Counting stops to eat, pee, and geocache (plus a few minor traffic hold-ups), it was about a six and a half–hour drive down; fairly typical for the 300-plus-mile trip. This time, I did the unthinkable: I made no special stops for geocaches until I was only a few miles from Gainesville (though I did grab a couple when I stopped for lunch around Anderson, SC). Traffic was heavy the whole way, which was hardly unexpected since traffic is always heavy on I-85. And let me tell you: there cannot possibly be a trucker shortage any longer, for there was no way one more truck could have fit on the highway between NC and GA. My god, it was wall-to-wall, and at times nerve-wracking.

Once here, I checked into the Ramada/Wyndham hotel, which is where I stayed on my previous sojourn. It's comfortable, reasonably priced, and as conveniently located as any hotel can be in Gainesville. At Tino’s, the Mexican restaurant on the premises, I grabbed a trio of excellent street tacos. Sadly, they no longer had the brisket tacos that sent me over the moon the last time I was here, but no matter; these made me happy, as did the large jalapeno margarita chaser.
The very large guardian of one of the geocaches I found
on the way into Gainesville this afternoon 

Unfortunately, by way of my previous visits to Gainesville, geocaching-wise, I have about cleaned up the town — certainly everything within walking distance of the hotel. Still, one does not undertake a sabbatical such as this one without geocaching, so, just as the sun began to set, I got in the car and hit the southern outskirts of town. I found several caches, many of which were along a nice, all-but-deserted road near the airport. And what a fuckin’ relief to find some respite from the blasted traffic here! After caching, I parked my car on the street in front of my grandparents’ old house and set out walking around the neighborhood, which skirts the edge of downtown. Almost unconsciously, I ended up retracing one of the routes I regularly walked as a youngster. While much of Gainesville has become almost unrecognizable, there’s just enough of that old neighborhood left to retain some of the magic it once held for me. I quite enjoyed the lovely evening trek, which netted me a couple of (much-needed) miles of hoofing it.

Tomorrow, I’m planning to visit my old alma mater — the University of Georgia in Athens — and get in some serious geocaching, for caches in Athens there certainly are.
Do not think for one minute I'm not serious about this. Sign found at the restaurant where
I had lunch in Anderson, SC. I need one of these.
One fine dinner
The GA Dept. of Veteran's Services building. Close to my grandparents' old house,
it stands out as one of my most vividly remembered buildings in town
Paul Smith Cleaners on Bradford St. Sadly, it's no longer in operation. Paul Smith was one of my great uncles. My great-aunt Julia — Uncle Paul's sister — worked there when I was little.
Tuesday, October 11, 2022

I think that, for today, I am altogether done with both walking and peopling.

According to my handy-dandy health app, I walked over seven miles, mostly on campus, and my little doggies are feeling it. And according to my Fed-Up-With-Humanity meter, I threw myself in with more human beings per square yard than even when Brugger and I spent several days in Chicago back in May.

This is not to say I didn’t enjoy myself; I had a fine time of it. I hit the road about 8:00 a.m. this morning and arrived in Athens roughly an hour later. My first destination was a concentration of geocaches in the neighborhood where I lived during the summer of 1980. It was and still is an attractive area, but that was not a happy time for me. The place had no air conditioning (and that was one fucking HOT summer), and the house ended up constantly overrun by teenage redneck assholes whom my drug-addled roommates unilaterally decided to give free rein. I wish circumstances had been better then because it really was a cool place (other than temperature-wise) in a lovely setting. Outwardly, at least, the house and grounds haven’t changed at all — though I kinda hope the folks who live there now have central air.

Once I’d found a few caches in that area, I headed down to the University of Georgia campus. Although I can’t say my university experience was everything it could and should have been (mostly thanks to less-than-sound decisions made by your humble narrator), I do have many pleasant and vivid recollections of those days. But holy cowz has the population density gone through the roof. Again, this is hardly unexpected, but the rigors of getting around campus without being run over — either by vehicles or by students on foot and/or other modes of transportation — are considerably more daunting than forty-some years ago. (This, by the way, is not because I’m slowing down in my old age; my typical pace tends to prompt young and old alike to holler “Would you please slow the fuck down?!”)

I certainly saw more of the UGA campus today than I did in my two-and-a-half years as a student there. Between the stages of several Adventure Labs, a couple of virtual caches, and a slew of physical caches, I explored numerous nooks and crannies I never would have had any reason to explore back in the day (although it’s not out of the question that I actually did visit some of these places while in a drug-induced fog). I stopped in at the old School of the Arts building, which is now the School of Something Else, but its confines are still largely familiar. As a student, I shared numerous art classes with Mike Stipe of REM, and though we were hardly close friends, we did have a few interesting conversations now and then.

I found a first-class lunch at Trappeze Pub — a bacon jalapeno burger with fries and a locally brewed IPA, which I liked a lot, though its name eludes me at the moment. I followed that up with a bit more walking and caching until my phone battery damn near gave up the ghost. Eventually, I hoofed it (on sore feet), back to the car, and spent the next thirty-some minutes trying to get the hell out of Dodge... er, Athens. Along the way, I passed The Taco Stand, which is one of the few familiar local establishments that’s still around after all these years. Back when, I always enjoyed going there, although — no joke! — one was guaranteed to suffer a rumbly tumbly for a spell following a Taco Stand meal. This evening, I did not stop in.

By the time I arrived back at my digs in Gainesville, I had pretty much made up my mind to stay inside for the evening. I doubt seriously my little feetz are up for any more hoofin’ it.

Tomorrow, it looks like rain in the forecast (which will suck), but I’m very much looking forward to meeting Lev Butts. I’m still hoping to manage some geocaching in the morning, lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise...
Oglethorpe House, the dorm I lived in between 1979 and 1980. Things have changed quite a bit
around the old place.
Sanford Stadium. I saw a lot of football games there when Herschel Walker was the team star
and had a reasonably valid purpose in life... quite unlike today.
A lovely lunch from Trappeze Pub
The old School of the Arts building, where I earned my two-thirds irrelevant Bachelor of Fine Arts degree
The Taco Stand — still rumbling tumblies after all these years
Wednesday, October 12, 2002
Old horror writer with not-so-old Leverett Butts at the Smoke House restaurant just outside of Gainesville
Well, the creek did rise, but I guess the lord was willin’ because I got up fairly early (thanks largely to an alarm of some sort going off nearby) and headed straight out for some geocaching. Thankfully, the rain was intermittent and not very heavy. I set my sights on the Oakwood area, a few miles southwest of Gainesville, near the local campus of the University of North Georgia, where friend Leverett teaches. We had a 1:00 p.m. lunch date at the Smoke House BBQ restaurant, but he had suggested that, if time permitted, I might stop in at his office earlier in the morning. So, I snagged a few caches along the way, located his office, and proceeded to make a pest of myself. We chatted for an hour or so, and then he had a meeting to attend. I still had a few nearby caches nearby to attend to, including a trio on the nature trail there at the university, so off I went. I found two of the three (the third is almost certainly missing), as well as a peculiar thingummy high up in a tree (see photo below), which I suspect is meant to be “art.” Who knows, though? It could just as easily be something nefarious, such as a disguised beacon for the Martian invasion force or something such. If the Martians land in Gainesville with their fighting machines and deadly black smoke, well, we’ll know why, won’t we?
Another of the lovely, big honking Joro spiders
that now populate this area

At the appointed hour, Lev and I met at the Smoke House, and... oh lord... the smoked dead cow was heavenly. H-E-A-V-E-N-L-Y. After lunch, we sat out on the restaurant’s front porch and shot the shit for most of another hour. Talk about a much-needed tonic! Both as writers and as reasonably human-type people, we have an awful lot in common, and our meeting was surely the highlight of this trip.

The geocaching highlight, at least so far, was a multi called “Six Feet Under” (GC22KDP). The first stage takes you to a graveyard on a little-traveled road and then to an old tunnel at an abandoned business park. I tell you, it’s tough to beat a graveyard and a tunnel as stages of a single cache. Now, it’s not a deep or long tunnel, but hey... it’s underground, secluded, and dark. My kind of place. Finding the cache proved to be a somewhat unexpected challenge, but find it I did. So... yay! I also found some incredible mud dauber nests — huge and complex, like nothing I’ve ever seen back home. And spiders... oh, yes, there are spiders. Big, colorful orb weavers, called Joro spiders; quite beautiful they are, even to this former arachnophobe. Apparently, they are relatively recent arrivals to the area, originally from Japan. Since they appear to thrive here, it’s likely they’ll eventually migrate to North Carolina. No complaints from me, since... unlike the burgeoning masses of humanity... they’re harmless and likely good for the environment.

After “Six Feet Under,” I grabbed a handful of other caches, but since the day was getting long in the tooth, I decided to pack it in, hoping against hope that I might beat a miserable rush-hour traffic experience. Well, the time of day clearly matters not a whit here anymore. As I have elucidated in no small detail, the traffic in Gainesville has become so ungodly I’m afraid such a ridiculous concentration of human beings in a relatively small area is going to shift the mass of the planet to an unsustainable degree and the earth is going to go spinning straight into the sun. Thank you, motherfuckers. Thank you all so bloody freaking much.

I put just over two miles on the feetz today. While they were still a little miffed about yesterday’s big walk, at least they didn’t give me any grief or complain about being abused this go-round. Who knows, though... tomorrow is another day and there are still lots of caches to hike after.

I’ll be back.

L: No, I do not know what that thing up in the tree is supposed to be (art, I suspect). I found it along the nature trail behind The University of North Georgia at Gainesville; R: A mud dauber nest in the tunnel at "Six Feet Under." This sucker measured well over two feet from top to bottom

Thursday, October 13, 2022
A view of Lake Lanier from the trail at Lanier Point Park
For my last full day in Gainesville, for better or for worse, I decided against pursuing a couple of possible social interactions at my disposal. I hope no one might feel slighted by my choice, but currently, this mostly solitary venture is something I believe I need. Here in Georgia, I feel a sense of connection — or perhaps reconnection — with what I can only describe as ghosts of people and places from my past, yet I feel they’re fading with time. This is a very personal thing to me, and I find myself wanting to experience the fullness of these “ghosts” while I still can. I hope I don’t regret not getting together again with my first cousin once removed, as they say, but right now, this choice feels necessary and proper.

I kicked off the morning by visiting Inman Perk Coffee Shop on the Square, a short walk from my hotel. A fine café au lait, and then it was off to the northwestern corner of town and Lanier Point Park, which offers a couple of scenic hiking trails along the shores of Lake Sidney Lanier. On my four-mile trek à pied, I found seven caches, a stairway to nowhere, and... a sudden moment of anxiety when I thought I had lost my extra battery pack for my phone. Happily, I had not (apparently, I had absent-mindedly put it back in the car between the first and second legs of the hike). Several times, the sky spat a little rain, but overall, the weather was pleasant, with an occasional balmy breeze. I didn’t encounter another living soul on the trail, which made for a relaxing experience in the woods.

Since Brugger and I discovered Southern Recess Gastro Pub in Spring 2012, dining there is a personal priority whenever I’m in Gainesville. I had originally thought I might have dinner there tonight, but since this morning’s breakfast consisted of a few grapes and the hike had flung a fair craving for vittles upon me, I decided to head there for lunch. A damned good martini (x2) and the bleu cheese burger of the gods satisfied the craving. Typical of my experiences at Southern Recess, the food, drink, and service were all first-rate.

So far on this trip, I’ve claimed just over fifty caches, and I’ll probably snag a few more before it’s all said and done. Spending this time outdoors, whether on wooded trails, on the campus of the University of Georgia, or in random, odd corners of Gainesville, I’ve found so many “new” and wonderful places I otherwise never would have. If you’re not a geocacher, you likely won’t relate, but this is how I achieve that crucial zen, and — going back to the first paragraph of today’s entry — it feels not just desirable but necessary.

Tomorrow, I’ll be heading back home. This trip has been invigorating, relaxing, satisfying, and — on occasion — stressful. Time changes all things, of course, and Gainesville has certainly changed in the decades since I spent so much time here. I don’t find much of it positive. There are many newer, highly desirable amenities, and, in some areas, substantial remnants of the pleasant, low-key town I’ve always treasured still exist. Yet, to a greater extent, this place is nothing more than an overpopulated extension of Atlanta, with traffic ills the likes of which even the NC Triad doesn’t yet suffer (although if developers have their way, it won’t be much longer until it’s equally awful, and developers always have their way). Here, just driving a few blocks involves more sitting than moving, and except for maybe late at night, there is literally no respite from it. More than most maladies in this life, I despise massive concentrations of human beings in too small a space, where the infrastructure was never designed for it, and all the upgrading in the world will never keep up with it. After this trip, I don’t know that I want to come back in the near future.

Sometimes “progress” is anything but, at least to those of us who prefer a quality of life that doesn’t involve playing sardine in a fucking tin can once you go out and about. Still... to me, Gainesville is truly where my family originated, and my connection to it feels deep and unbreakable. I can’t help but love this town in more than a few ways.

I’m sure I will come back.
A neat little covered bridge that leads to the trail at Lanier Point Park
On the bridge
Another bridge, this one leading to nowhere in the middle of the woods