X-treme Fear

It was barely over a week ago that Ms. B. and I met friends Tom (a.k.a. Skyhawk63) and Linda (a.k.a. Punkins19) some 700 miles northward in Michigan to go geocaching at Power Island on Lake Michigan (see "Michigan Misadventure, Madness, & Merriment, Part 2," July 31, 2026). Today, back in our old home turf (Greensboro, NC), Tom and I met up again to hunt a multi-cache that struck this old dude's most wonderfully sensitive nerves, for it is set on the grounds of a former haunted attraction that the co-editor of Deathrealm magazine (Danielle D'Attilio) and I visited back in the mid-1990s. I recall that time with great fondness because she and I were the only living souls at that haunted trail at the time, and for that  reason, the experience proved to be fucking scary. So, revisiting the setting all these years later was both nostalgic (thanks for the memories) and beyond cool (because it's bleeping geocaching).

 

I had a medical appointment in Greensboro this morning, so I'd arranged with Tom to hunt this relatively new cache (it's been found only once, by friend/geocaching partner Natalie, a.k.a. Ms. Fishdownthestairs) afterward. We met at the starting coordinates just after 11:00 a.m., hosed ourselves down with bug spray, and set out into the woods. We didn't have to go very far, but in thirty-plus-years' time, the woods have really grown up. What we found remarkable was that so much of the old attraction still remained. Granted, it was mostly in miserable condition, but largely still there.

 

We found semi-intact old structures. We found countless skeletons, corpses, spiders, snakes, and abandoned electrical equipment. We found cache stages that required feats of physical strength and dexterity. We found one hell of a good (if sometimes frustrating) time exploring the remnants of what was  once a very cool haunted attraction.

 

As I'd discovered several years ago while geocaching, sometimes finding all that remains of a creepy attraction can be all the creepier simply because it's nothing but remains.

 

A favorite point awarded for "X-treme Fear: Fox's Footsteps" (GCBV1AV).

Alone Again, Naturally

Well, not really alone; more a bachelor for a couple of weeks while Ms. B. returns to Michigan for another stint of looking after her parents. She had a dawn flight this morning, so we were up at 3:15 a.m. to get her to the airport in Greensboro. Her trip went smoothly, so there she is, and here I am...again. Next trip, sometime in July, I will be accompanying her. It's been quite a while since I was there.

 

Anyhoo, I decided to go after some new geocaches in the Caswell County Gamelands, a few miles northeast of Greensboro. It was a foggy morning, and I got there right at dawn. The fog lifted shortly thereafter. I put in about four miles in pretty rugged terrain and found three out of the four new caches. The one I didn't find is probably in place, but the coordinates there were incredibly unstable—and I might have been hunting with only one eye open because...well...we got up at 3:15 a.m.

And now, I'm mystified by my computer going somehow wonky. When I booted it up a while ago, it appears a bunch of web fonts are not working on any browser. Far as I know, I changed nothing, and I've tried a number of recommended fixes, to no avail. Anyway, it's vexing me, and I would really like to get this cleared up because it's making working on the laptop difficult. Freakin' beast.

 

Addendum, 5/13: All is well with the fonts again. I dunno. Maybe some strange Google issue? Hope it doesn't happen again. 

Birthdays, Broken Ribs, and Broken Teeth

Kimberly's birthday and mine are (a few years) and one week apart, so after celebrating mine last week, it was her turn. Sadly, after the festivities last Saturday night, she tried to wrestle with me and fell off the bed, striking the corner of her nightstand and breaking three ribs in the process. So, she's had a rather painful week of it, though she's definitely improving.

On her birthday eve, we ventured to our regular Friday afternoon hangout, Hamlet Kitchen, where our friend Yvonne popped in to visit with us. Then we went for an excellent sushi dinner at Yamato Japanese Restaurant, which really hit the spot since it's been a long while since either of us have had sushi.

 

Yesterday, to begin her birthday festivities, we went up the street to visit briefly with friends Joe & Callie, who had helped celebrate my birthday last week. They have this thing called "Meat Day," for which they open their doors to just about anyone who dares enter, and Joe grills a variety of meats all day long. Brugger is not much of a Meatosaurus, but I am, so we sampled a few of the treats, which were awesome, and even Ms. B. approved.

 

From there, we headed to Greensboro, first to our regular hangout from our days in North Carolina, State Street Wine Company, and then for dinner at Pangaea Bistro, which we'd never tried before. Here, we met friends Terry & Beth, Joe & Suzy, and the "other" Mark & Kim. Yep! We definitely enjoyed the dining experience here...except, right at the end of the meal, I took a bite of very soft potato and broke a fucking tooth. Lower molar, busted right in two. So a trip to the dentist will be on the menu very shortly. Uggh.

 

To finish off the evening, we decided to return to State Street, where we hung out long enough to have another drink. We mellowed there for a good while so we'd have no worries about heading back home.

So, apart from unexpected body parts breaking, Brugger and I had damn nice celebrations this year. After all these years of birthdays, I think she's finally older than I am. Cheers!

New Banner for Authorcon

With Scares That Care: AuthorCon VI coming up next month in Williamsburg, VA, I figured I should make a new, updated banner for my vendor space in the main ballroom. In a vast area with several hundred exceptional writers packed in, visibility is paramount, and while I'll keep using my older banner for the front of the table, I hope a nice tall one will help pinpoint my location in the room.

The con runs from February 27 to March 1, 2026, at the Doubletree by Hilton Williamsburg. Scares That Care is a charity that, in its twenty years of existence, has raised and donated nearly a half-million dollars to organizations and families with a child affected by illness or burns, and women fighting breast cancer. A substantial percentage of the proceeds from AuthorCon go directly to the charity.

Yesterday, there was a geocaching event at The Cheesecake Factory in Greensboro, and since we needed to run a few errands down yonder, Ms. B. and I decided to attend. She tells me that I have been to The Cheesecake Factory before—a few years ago with friends—but I have no recollection of this. I suspect that she might have drugged me while she picked up copious amounts of cheesecake from the place and then, in case I had some vague memory of the dastardly deed, decided to bamboozle me by insisting I'd been there myself. I think not. We ate some good, if monstrously overpriced food. The geocaching company was excellent.

 

After the event, Ms. B, had some errands to run in town, including a trip to Costco. And once the necessities were concluded, we hied ourselves over to Cooper's Hawk Restaurant and Tavern to sample their spirits (excellent), and then State Street Wine Company, which, when we lived in Greensboro, was a nearby, always enjoyable venue to snag a few drinks. It is, of course, considerably farther away now, but whenever we visit Greensboro, if State Street is open, that's where you'll find Brugger and Rainey.

 

So, it was a nice outing to our old hometown. I'll be going back next week for a dentist appointment. Not quite so fun.

Another Geo-Morning

Werewolf tracks!

Here in Martinsville, getting to geocaches is a bit more difficult and time-consuming than when we lived in Greensboro, but a pretty good crop of new ones have come out both north and south of here. For my birthday, I made an enjoyable jaunt southward; then, yesterday, Ms. B. and I went to Greensboro to run a bunch of errands as well as attend a Cinco de Mayo caching event hosted by friends Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) & Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda); and today, I got up early and drove to Rocky Mount, about 30 miles up the road, where I picked up a nice first-to-find on a new trail cache at Waid Park and then a couple of park & grabs.

 

Several hundred caches have come out (and keep coming out) around North Carolina's Piedmont Triad and even beyond, so I've been whittling my way through these, sometimes on my own, sometimes with the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars. These are all exclusively of the park & grab variety, but hey, it's still geocaching. I do need to revisit Greensboro soon to do maintenance on a few of my trail hides that have either gone missing or fallen into disrepair. Most likely next week. I expect I'll be able to fit in a number of park & grabs on that trip as well.

 

Happy hunting, and all that.

Lots of trees fallen over the trail. Duck, you sucker!

Mind  those revenuers!

Return to the Black Lodge

About five years ago, I placed a series of Twin Peaks–themed geocaches ("Project Blue Rose") in various locations in Greensboro, one of which lurks deep beneath the city streets in an old storm drain system. Yesterday, I was caching in Greensboro with friend Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), and it came to my attention that he had never claimed this particular hide. I've wanted to check on it for a long time—caches placed in such an unfriendly environment frequently end up damaged or going missing—so I suggested he go after it with ye olde cache owner accompanying. He found the idea agreeable.

So, off we went to ground zero: a culvert entrance, about four feet in diameter, which hides at a small creek that flows through Greensboro's Lindley Park neighborhood. We haven't had a lot of rain lately, but a strong, steady current of water flowed through the pipe. Fortunately, both of us had worn our trusty, waterproof hiking boots, so, with flashlights in hand, into the gaping maw we went.

 

FYI, long before my "Project Blue Rose" series, this particular tunnel had been used for a stage of a multi-cache called "Greensboro Underground" (which I found in June 2009; you may read about that wild adventure here). I credit that underground excursion with curing me of arachnophobia, and had Scott and I found ourselves back in a cramped chamber filled with giant, hairy wolf and fishing spiders, I might have experienced a fair adrenaline charge; however, it's too early in the season for the big multi-legged monsters to be out and about, and I reckon that's fine.

 

I found that out, this many years later, negotiating such a cramped space for such a distance caused me a bit more physical discomfort than it had in those old days (okay, yeah, it hurt), so in the future, I may need to limit my subterranean excursions to those that allow for standing upright. The top of my skull will thank me.

Once we reached our final destination, I was pleased to see that the Project Blue Rose container remained intact and in its proper location. The log sheet, however, had gotten soaked, so I will need to replace it. I can do that next time I'm in the area; I reckon my back and knees (and head) will hold out for at least a few more ventures into these deep, dark confines. Maybe I'll plan my next one for when the spiders are out and about, just to get a charge.

 

Anybody wanna go along?

Looking back toward the entrance as we make our way in...

L: The view ahead...as far as our flashight beams will reach; R: Diefenbaker claims his prize

The Multi-Cache of DOOM and Other Things

Getting ready to head up yonder

Early Saturday morning, friend Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and I got together in Greensboro to hunt a bunch of newer geocaches that have come out in the area over the past few days. Friend Fishdownthestairs (a.k.a. Natalie) joined us for a brief while before she had to tend to other business. Scott and I made quite the day of it; at the end of the run, we logged 50 caches, a one-day total I haven't managed for several years now. We could have gotten many more than that if we weren't a couple of old and tired men, but we were, so we didn't.

 

Saturday evening, a new multi-cache ("The Multi-Cache of DOOM," GCB3JA4) came out in Rocky Mount, about 30 miles north of here, but Ms. B. and I had plans for Sunday: an excellent brunch at Hamlet Vineyards in Fieldale with friends Bob & Yvonne. A nice couple, Scott & Jamie, whom they had met at another recent event, joined us. For local wine, Hamlet's is very good, both reds and whites, and their food ain't half-bad. I had a very tasty gumbo with shrimp, chicken, and sausage; Brugger went with fresh-baked bread with an assortment of prosciutto, hummus, and spinach & artichoke dip. We give Hamlet very high marks all around.

 

This morning, I got up early and set out for Rocky Mount. A couple of times recently I had cached on the ridge where this new cache lurks, and I can tell you, the terrain up yonder is some kind of serious. Very steep; rocky; thick with brush, brambles, and briers; and covered with a carpet of cacti (last time, I brought home quite a few very annoying, hairlike needles in my hand). This multi-cache took me up the back side of the ridge, the lower slope of which you see in the photo above; in the past, I've gone up the other side, which may be marginally easier. Once you get into those trees up there, making forward progress becomes a real bear.

Upon arrival, I quickly found the first of the three stages, which lay close to the parking coordinates. The second lurked just inside the trees at roughly the highest point you see in the photo there. It was in a target-rich area, so it took me a while, but I eventually snagged the little bastard. Then... into the worst of the terrain. Whew! It didn't help that I ended up reaching the final stage by way of the most difficult route I could have chosen (needless to say, the descent was somewhat easier). The cache itself was a mint, 50-caliber ammo can, loaded with swag. So, I managed to grab the almost-coveted first-to-find honors here.

 

A physical ordeal to be sure, but a hell of a lot of fun. And now, back to the cactus...er...salt mines.

Pre-Dawn Muggle Madness and More

Since Ms. B.'s folks have reached that age where they need a bit more help from time to time, she heads to Michigan regularly to visit them. Sometimes I go along too, but this week, she made it a solo trip. Her flight out from Greensboro was at 6:00 a.m. yesterday morning, so we had to get ourselves up at 3:30 a.m. to hit the road by 4:00 a.m. We made it to the airport just before 5:00 a.m., and rather than turn right around and drive home, I decided to head eastward from Greensboro and snag a handful of geocaches.

My first stop was Burlington, a few miles east of Greensboro, where there is a newish Wherigo cache, courtesy of friend Ranger Fox. Despite the 25º-degree temp, I hoped  I might make my way through the stages without becoming an icicle. But after fifteen minutes, I still had a pretty good way to go, and even though I was reasonably bundled up, the chill and the brisk breeze convinced me that trying again at a later (warmer) time might be more prudent.

However, stopping here offered me yet another chance to experience the single-most inevitable geocaching experience of geocaching experiences: the fooking muggle sitting in his fooking car. At 5:15 in the fooking a.m., a muggle (one of the non-geocaching persuasion) drives into this otherwise totally deserted parking lot, parks his fooking vehicle, and proceeds to fooking sit while I'm going from stage to stage. It never fails when there is an otherwise totally deserted parking, does it? In this case, not necessarily a complication, since muggles will be present at this location on a regular basis. However, under these circumstances, it just reinforces the notion that there is no empty parking lot into which a muggle won't insinuate himself at precisely the wrong time. Go fooking figure.

From there, I headed farther east and snagged a handful of caches. My favorite was one in the woods along the Eno River, just east of Efland, NC. A lovely location just downriver from a dam, which was visible in the distance from the cache site. So despite the pre-dawn muggle madness, I enjoyed myself no end.

A now a week of bachelorhood, writing, and, hopefully, more geocaching.

Sunrise is imminent...

A Virginia Beach New Year's

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2023

These past few New Year's holidays, Brugger and I have gathered with our regular partners in crime, Terry & Beth, and this year, friends Joe & Suzy joined the mix. This year, we had decided on Virginia Beach as our destination and made reservations at the Dolphin Run condos on the waterfront. Since we were all heading from different places — and I had geocaches to stop for — each couple drove separately. Ms. B. and I left about 11:00 a.m. Sure enough... there were some cool geocaches to snag along the way. We hit a few spots of traffic, but overall, the trip turned out to be a mostly pain-free six hours.

Once ensconced in our lodgings, we opened some wine for pre-dinner drinks. Come the dinner hour, we saw a few nearby restaurants, so we walked up to an appealing-looking place called Waterman's Surfside Grill, but the wait time — about an hour — struck us as a bit much. So we ended up walking another partial block and found Mahi's at the nearby Hilton Hotel. They specialize in sushi, and I ended up with some of the best dead fish I've had in ages... maybe ever.

Then we returned to our lodgings and — scandalous, I know — we opened some wine. Our revels, debates, and mud-wrestling lasted fairly late. Brugger and I took a nice, late-night walk on the beach. Then there was some heavy-duty bed-crashing.

The Dolphin Run Condos by night

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2023

After plenty of coffee, I set out walking after geocaches. Found a few physical hides and stages of several Adventure Lab (virtual) caches. I ended up hoofing it about two and a half miles, which is fairly typical of my daily walks back home. The wind behaved brutally for much of the distance, so I was still rather glad when I made it back indoors.

For lunch, our gang decided to give Waterman's another try because the menu had appeared appealing. This time, we were able to get seated quickly. One of their daily specials was an Angus burger with brie and applewood-smoked bacon, and it hollered at me. No drinks but water for me because I'm certain there will be no shortage of such refreshments this evening. The burger was very good, a bit shy of great. Still, it's been ages since I've had a burger, so it hit the critical spot.

To my dismay, I discovered that our power back home had gone out. Apparently, it was a widespread outage in Martinsville, as people all over the city were posting about it. It lasted a couple of hours, and I don't know what caused it, but at the moment, all seems well again. We certainly did not want the cats and their sitter to get too cold!

Writer/editor/Crossroad Press CEO/good friend David Niall Wilson was apparently in town, and we'd had an idea we might try to get together during the afternoon, but circumstances didn't come together for it. However, come April, we'll be seeing each other at the upcoming AuthorCon III in Williamsburg, so we'll have a good time there to anticipate. 

There is a walkway along the beach that runs just below our eighth-floor balcony — the "boardwalk," it's called, although it's not so much boards as concrete. It's been all done up with a holiday light show, so, during the evening, a huge parade of vehicles rolls by to go through the show. It doesn't bother us at all, though now and again, we venture out to the balcony to hurl insults at the crowd and look at some of the visible lights.

Several of the gang were out and about for the afternoon, so they picked up vittles for dinner, including a couple of rotisserie chickens for the main course. Joe made us a lovely Italian concoction of beans and escarole to go with the bird, and so we were set. Once well-fed, we settled in for an evening of wine, games, and generally acting up.

Crazy white people!

The opening of the light show below our balcony: "Welcome to VA Beach!"

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2023

I'd hoped the weather might be a bit less blustery this morning to go walkies, but while the sun blazed brightly, that air remained frigid. So... no. I got some writing done. Finally, at about 11:00 a.m., the temperature pushed up to the 40-degree mark, and I decided to head on out. Joe & Suzy had a lunch date with her sister, who lives nearby, and the rest of us planned to eat leftovers, so I reckoned I could walk as far as I wanted to, and we'd be on our own time until later this afternoon. I went a full two miles outbound, grabbed a traditional cache and the stages of a couple of Adventure Labs, and I had just reached my farthest goal when Ms. B. shot me a message. Apparently, the gang had decided to check out lunch options other than leftovers, and could I please get back pretty soon? Hoo boy... long way....

Fortunately, I walk pretty fast.

Our lunch destination was Firebrew Bar & Grill down by Oceana Naval Air Station, where Terry and Joe had been stationed back in our nation's earliest days. Terry and I started with a couple of bloody marys (quite good) and ye women opted for wine. Possibly the wrong thing to do because we're having a big New Year's Eve dinner, but I went for a half-rack of baby back ribs, and damn... they were delicious. There was a cache nearby, so I grabbed it... and ran into a local geocacher in the process. We had a brief, enjoyable conversation.

From there, ye women went shopping, and Terry and I headed down to Oceana to meander around his old stomping grounds. For me, the real treat was getting to view a fair number of "antique" Navy aircraft up close and personal. Due largely to my model-building days, which ranged from my wee childhood until post-college, I recalled the names and types of the majority of the jets. Fun stuff!

F4 Phantom

F2H Banshee

F14 Tomcat

The Lunch Bunch

For New Year's Eve dinner, we had reservations at Mermaid Winery. It was a three-course dinner with choices of pork belly, scallops, crabmeat-stuff lobster, filet mignon, and various sweets for dessert. They served really good wine with dinner — not their own, which turned out to be fortunate because Kim and Terry sampled some of theirs and came away with expressions that were not at all pretty. Regardless, the atmosphere, service, and food made the overall experience a great finish for the year.

Back at the condo, we sat up playing tunes and making merry. Brugger entertained us with nonstop dancing from the time we arrived until we crashed, well after midnight.

2023 has left the building...

Our Gang at Mermaid Winery for dinner

The final moonrise of 2023

A LOOK BACK...

Without question, 2023 has been one of the most eventful years of my life. It was my first full year of retirement and included a major move back to my old homeplace in Virginia. In Greensboro, Ms. B. and I went through some of the worst household issues ever, first and foremost being the downright monstrous expense of replacing our sewer line ("Ain't That the Shit!"). Once we decided to move to Martinsville, we simultaneously went through the processes of upgrading our Greensboro house to sell and upgrading Pleasant Hill to move. What a long, expensive, labor-intensive job ("I'm Getting Too Old for This Shit!"). Fortunately, we got a good price on the Greensboro place, and while there are still some things we need (and want) to do in Martinsville, the house and town have turned out to be — unlike Greensboro has become — a comfortable, peaceful place to settle.

Early in the year and into the summer, along with all the physical labor, I was immersed in editing Deathrealm: Spirits, which came out in October from Shortwave Publishing. As with any anthology, it was an involved process, but overall, I reckon things came together as smoothly as I could have hoped. It's a beautiful book that includes superb work from many of the biggest and best names in the business. I hope you'll avail yourselves to it if you haven't already.

One of the hardest events to deal with this past year was the death of my good friend and regular geocaching partner, Rob Isenhour. We had well over a decade of experiences together, and whenever our (mostly) weekend geocaching group, The No-Dead-Weight Irregulars, manages to get together (sadly, not as frequently these days, since we are far more spread apart), the gap that Rob left behind seems massive. We do so miss him.

Having turned fairly old, this year has hit me with a few health challenges — none all that severe, but numerous and just serious enough to become real, if mostly temporary impediments. This last round of dental difficulty ("Fun & Games with Tooth Extractions") was the icing on the medical cake for this year. I can't say I approve, but at least I've mostly mended.

All in all, I can safely say this year has been another positive, if bumpy step forward in the walk into the unknown. I suppose, to put it in the immortal words of Dr. Franklin Ruehl, it's better (at least sometimes) than being slapped in the belly with a wet trout.

Movin’ On

Casa di Rodan, 1994–2023

After nearly three decades of living in the same house in Greensboro, NC, I have bid the old place adieu. Casa di Rodan (1994–2023) is now sold. It officially belongs to someone else. Brugger and I are more or less settled in my old family house in Martinsville, VA (although the place is still very much in a state of transition — and for cats, a state of confusion). We have a host of reasons for making this move, but the single most significant is the Great Sewer Line Debacle of 2023, from back in March. Because of that single, massive expense, something had to give.

After inheriting my childhood home when Mom died in 2020, I had hoped to keep both it and the Greensboro residence for as long as possible. However, after spending so much money on that accursed sewer line, holding onto both was no longer financially feasible. It wasn’t all that difficult for Brugger and me to determine that keeping the Martinsville house (which Mom called “Pleasant Hill” but that I officially dubbed “Ground Zero”) made the most sense.

And so it is.

I love the prospect of occupying my old childhood home full-time, though I can’t say I don’t have mixed emotions about the whole business. I moved with my ex-wife into the Greensboro house back in 1994, and we lived there together until our separation and subsequent divorce well over a decade ago. For the next ten years, the cats and I lived in the house as a happy family unit. In 2021, Brugger and I married, and we all became a happier family unit. We immediately set to refurbishing the whole house, which proved to be a long, extensive, and not inexpensive job. Despite the house being relatively small and somewhat cramped, we figured we were set there for a long, long time.

No.

Especially during the solo years (well, solo with cats) and the days with Brugger there, I lived some mighty happy times. Hell, even my ex-wife, Peg, and I shared some enjoyable moments in the old place. My tenure there is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place, so I guess I can’t help having developed some attachment to the dwelling. Still, as the negative aspects of staying there have piled up, Ms. B. and I look forward to moving on to this next stage of life, however long it lasts. I’m not that young, and, well, even at the best of times, you never know how things are gonna shake out.

So, there it is. Huzzah. Brugger and I still have many friends in, and solid ties to, NC’s Triad, so it’s not like we’re going to be strangers to the area. Just to the former Casa di Rodan, I reckon.

It’s out with the old and in with the new (or older with a facelift, as it were). Onward and upward, and all that. Or wherever life sees fit to lead us.

Ground Zero

Back in the Shadows Again

I recently wrote on this blog that I’m getting too old for this shit, and I’m thinking I might swipe that line from Danny Glover on a more permanent basis. Whew! Brugger and I are well into getting the Martinsville house restored, although there are still weeks and weeks’ worth of (expensive) work left ahead of us. Today, it’s the new roof. Concurrently, we’re trying to whip the Greensboro house into saleable condition, which is also anything but a small (or inexpensive) job. Since all this restoration work began back in April, I’ve been going to bed each evening mostly satisfied with the progress we’re making, but so sore of muscle and bone that getting a solid night’s sleep is possible only occasionally.

Still, there’s so much cool stuff happening. It was nice to get some of my old books—all the James Bond novels (and certain associated titles), the Dark Shadows novels (and certain associated titles)—back into the old homestead where they and I grew up together. The Bond books, at least all the old Signet editions, are back on the same shelf in the den where I discovered them as a youngster, when they belonged to my dad. It was in that same den that I first started watching Dark Shadows on a regular basis (right at the start of the Leviathans storyline in 1969), so I’ve put all the Dark Shadows books together on the shelf below the Bond books. And, for shits & giggles, I’ve started rewatching the Dark Shadows Leviathans episodes on Freevee.

The other day, I dug up an envelope, which I feared had gone forever missing, of old love letters (as well as a few that expressed something distinctly other than love) from certain young ladies in my junior high and high school years. Marybeth, Gretchen, DeeDee, and Courtney... it’s so nice to read all those lovely sentiments again, haha.

We’re holding an estate sale this weekend, Saturday, 5/20 and Sunday, 5/21, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. each day. Here’s the Facebook listing for it: Estate Sale, 5/20–5/21. If you’re in the vicinity, stop on by.

Some of the James Bond novels, the original Signet editions of which now re-reside on their original shelf
in my dad’s old den

UFOs Over Greensboro

For at least a couple of decades, the residents of Greensboro’s Sunset Hills neighborhood have gone to town filling the sky with colorful balls of light for the Christmas season. These are essentially wads of chicken wire wrapped in strings of Christmas lights and suspended from the neighborhood’s many tall trees. In the early days, the display was mostly along a single road — Ridgeway Drive — but it soon spread to many of the neighboring lanes.

Last night, Brugger and I had to go out and about for supplies, and since we were in the neighborhood, we detoured down Greenway Drive, found a parking spot, and ventured into the chill night air on foot. Since the light balls have spread into nearby areas like a contagion — one far more agreeable than the covidz, of course — the night sky is full of them as far as the eye can see. We rambled to and fro for about a half-hour before returning to the vehicle, and then we headed to nearby WineStyles to enjoy a glass of wine each.

These are the UFOs over Greensboro.

Greensboro Urban Adventure

Just the ticket for when one is on the rebound from the covidz but can’t yet gather safely with others: a new, multi-stage, physically challenging geocache that one can hunt all by one’s lonesome, courtesy of Ranger Fox (a.k.a. Christopher). Happily, this one, called Greensboro Urban Adventure, lies just down the road a piece, with six stages at various locations within a couple of square miles of territory. Each stage offers its unique challenges, with most requiring some measure of physical strength and dexterity. Fortunately, I still have a modicum of each. Ranger Fox recently challenged us locals with Nogitsune, a novel hide that required a coordinated team effort to spy, retrieve, sign the log, and re-hide as found. This one turned out to be just as challenging, if in an altogether different way.

Greensboro Urban Adventure posted on the geocaching website yesterday morning, and I set out shortly afterward to see if I might find at least the first stage, and more if time allowed. Stage 1 resides somewhere in the setting pictured above — a crumbling old railroad trestle over North Buffalo Creek. I’d have to classify it as moderately dangerous, as the structure is somewhat less than sound, and it’s a fairly long drop into the stream below (sure-footedness here is a virtue). I had no problem tackling the structure per se, but... holy cow... it’s one helluva target-rich location, and I spent a full hour getting to know every nook, cranny, crevice, bar, bolt, nut, beam, spike, and crosstie on the thing... except for the one that concealed the cache. Finally, I cried “uncle” and resolved to come back some other time.

Naturally, last night, friends Night-Hawk (a.k.a. Tom) and Cantergirl (a.k.a. Jeannie) went out there and not only found stage 1 but completed the entire multi. Well, two heads are better than one — or in my case, a half — but I figured that, this morning, I’d give it another shot on my own. So, bright and early, off I went, back to the trestle, where that distinctive sensation of deja-vu soon settled upon me. Where else could I possibly look that I hadn’t already? Well... hey... what do you know... HERE is the dad-blamed, bloody, ding-dong-blasted devious little stage... in a spot I had already searched with excruciating thoroughness, or so I thought. Apparently, not so much thoroughness.

At least I now had the coordinates to get to the next stage.

Stage 2 was a very traditional hide, easily located. But the coordinates I procured there led me to a location that had to be the one for which the cache description indicated a flashlight would come in handy. And did it ever. Fortunately, thanks to Sir Fox’s typically precise coordinates — even in a location where the sun never shines — I found the stage remarkably quickly. As in I walked... well, duck-walked, for the ceiling is low... straight to it. I took a few photos (below), recorded the next set of coordinates, and moved on.

I ended up taking a more roundabout route to the next stage than was really necessary, but I got myself where I needed to be with only a marginally taxing physical challenge or two. Here, I found myself peering up a steep, sheltered incline — (insert Red Hot Chili Peppers song title here). Quickly enough, way up yonder, I saw what I thought might be my quarry. Turns out it wasn’t, but it did put me right where I needed to be to spy my quarry lurking nearby. It also put me at eye level with a thing that, at first, caused me some confusion followed by consternation. It was about ten inches in diameter. Odd ceramic pot or bizarrely precise hornet nest? Before even stopping to think that, if it was the latter, the results might prove singularly nasty... I poked it. Yep. Hornet nest. Happily for all involved, no hornets came streaming out. This, I will add, might be called getting caught up in the heat of the moment, damning the torpedoes, allowing one’s enthusiasm for the hunt to overwhelm one’s good judgment. Or just plain dumb-assedness. Take your pick.

Okay, two stages left to go. It wasn’t far to the next, so I hoofed it to the location. Though much smaller in scale, this stage’s setting struck me as mighty reminiscent of the first stage’s. Well, yes and no. Spying and acquiring the necessary coordinates involved less actual danger but required far more agility to keep from tumbling into a creek and getting soaked. Happily, I ended up not soaked and in possession of the coordinates to the final stage.

Reaching the final required a short drive to what is likely to become a future leg of the downtown Greensboro Greenway. As yet, it remains undeveloped. So much the better — just a deserted cut through a stand of woods where the old rail line used to run. An easy hike out to ground zero... and thar she be: a by-now familiar-looking structure, which I knew concealed, somewhere somehow, the final container, which was listed as “regular” size — something around the size of a typical .30 calibre ammo can. No direct spoilers, but I will say that acquiring that container required more acrobatics than I had yet performed at any previous stages. Not particularly dangerous, but — again — the result of carelessness or mishap would be a pretty thorough soaking, if not injury.

No soaking, no injury. And my signature on the log.

I think, after all this description, this caching experience can be summed up with just a great big “WHOA!” Sir Fox has indeed earned another favorite point with Greensboro Urban Adventure.

A rickety road ahead!

Where the heck am I?

WHOA!