Road Trip! Ishpeming or Bust! (Part 2)

Linda Lee Porter and Ms. B. at the Tridge

Continued from Part 1...

Saturday, September 28, 2024: Return to Midland
On a note unrelated—at least directly—to our trip, I'm now seeing in graphic detail how devastating Hurricane Helene was in areas very close to home. Thankfully, our place doesn't appear to have been impacted, but to the east and west of us, there has been massive flooding, power outages, and property damage. We appear to have been very fortunate, and my heart goes out to those who've suffered terrible losses. As for Michigan, we've had a little rain but have remained out of harm's way, at least for this go-round.

I was up and at it pretty early this morning, as a couple of caches lay within easy walking distance of our Cheboygan lodgings. Since we're only three hours from Midland, we didn't rush to pack this morning, and we had a leisurely breakfast — from McDonalds — and then made ourselves marginally presentable.

Out on the road, we rocked out to 70s music and eventually turned off at Houghton Lakes, where we snagged lunch at a little place called the Back Door Saloon, home of the the Big Bad Wolf Burger — the "Best Burger in Michigan." I did not get one because it looked like a cardiac event in every mouthful, and it cost $22.00. I did get the Olive Burger, though, which was still damned big (and fairly tasty). The womenz wanted to stop in Harrison again to pick up some more cannabis, so while they bought weed, I went after a cache, but — sadly — it (and its host, an old payphone) had gone bye-bye. Sigh.

At Casa di Brugger, we hung with Del & Fern for most of the afternoon. Come dinnertime, our party headed down to Whichcraft, one of our regular Midland destinations, to meet Kim's friend, Linda; Linda's daughter, Hayley; and Hayley's new husband, Jake. After a decent dinner, we wandered over to Grape Beginnings, another of our traditional Midland hangouts. Sadly, we learned that they'll be closing their doors in the coming months. While Michigan wine may not be anyone's favorite go-to, Grape Beginnings makes some decent stuff, and we've always enjoyed our experiences there. We hate like hell to see them moving on.

Come time to leave, we stopped off at nearby Aviator Cookie Company, grabbed several absolutely incredible cookies, and returned to the homestead, where we killed cookies and downed a smidgen more wine with Del, Fern, and the Nelsons. Then it was sleepy time.

G'night!

Terry, Beth, Old Dude (Terry said he produced the weird shadow on my face for some anonymous requester,
though I'm gonna find the culprit), Brugger, Linda, Hayley, Jake

Sunday, September 29, 2024: Hoofin' it to Molasses and More
Unfortunately, I didn't get the best sleep last night, so I ended up staying in a bed a bit later than usual. Once up, though, I downed a bucket of coffee, which helped perk me up. To top it off, Del & Fern went out and grabbed a box of donuts, which might not have been quite Cops & Doughnuts caliber, but they were still damned satisfying. And then I was ready to rock & roll.

I'd been eyeing a couple of newish geocaches downtown, and this morning seemed like a good time to go after them. The folks were keen on going to Molasses for lunch, and since both the caches and the restaurant were downtown, I made up my mind to hoof the four miles down there, hopefully snag the caches, and then meet everyone for lunch. This plan worked out beautifully, especially since the weather could not have been more perfect for a long walk: sunny but relatively cool, with a consistent, comfortable breeze. It was about a forty-minute walk on the nice, flat, mostly tree-lined roads. I saw lots of folks putting up their outdoor Halloween decorations. My favorite moment was encountering a little girl, probably five years old, dressed in a black witch's costume, running around her yard and yelling, "WHO KILLED MY SISTER? WHO KILLED MY SISTER?" This gave me a chuckle.

About halfway to my destination, I realized I had walked off without a pen to sign the cache logs, so I detoured to a convenience store along the way. They didn't have any pens for sale, but the nice lady working the store gave me one of hers. I thanked her profusely and assured her that I anticipated finding some very important paperwork that required my signature.

And thus it was. I turned up both caches, which were nicely placed, signed the logs, and trucked on over to Molasses. I arrived a few minutes early, so I ordered a beer and waited for the party. Once they arrived and we were all settled in, I enjoyed one of the finest lunches I've had in I don't know how long. This is why Molasses is probably my favorite BBQ restaurant anywhere: a perfect brisket platter, with green beans, BBQ fried rice, and delicious cornbread. I think everyone enjoyed their meals at least as much as I did.

One of many nearby houses with the Halloween decorations going up

When Flamingos Attack

Rather than walk the four miles back, I caught a ride with Ms. B., which was probably a good idea since, later in the evening, my footsies did some aching!

A bit later, she and I headed out to Meijer for a few more provisions, and then, for the rest of the day and evening, I worked on some edits for my upcoming novel, The House at Black Tooth Pond.

A mellow evening with the folks.

Monday, September 30, 2024: Frankenmuth

Frankenmuth's Bavarian Inn Lodge

Terry and Beth were keen on visiting Frankenmuth, a Bavarian-styled village about 30 miles south of Midland that Kimberly is particularly fond of. I'd never been there before, but it appeared that I'd find geocaching aplenty, among other niceties, so this seemed a fine plan. We gathered ourselves and our things, and sallied forth about 11:30 a.m.

We rolled into Frankenmuth a few minutes past noon, and headed straight for Prost! Wine Bar & Charcuterie, where we had a nice, light lunch and a couple of glasses of wine each. Afterward, as is our custom, the womenz went shopping, Terry went barhopping, and I went geocaching. It was a target-rich area, so I put in a good couple of hours snagging numerous traditional, virtual, and Adventure Lab caches. For this spell, I put in about four miles of hoofing it, but there was a good bit more walking to come. Frankenmuth proved to be a reasonably cool place, with entertaining architecture and some appealing shops and taverns.

Brugger and the Bear at Bronner's

Our next destination was the famous, big-ass Bronner's Christmas Wonderland a short distance south of town — at Brugger and Beth's request, as they wanted to start looking at Christmas gifts early. A bunch of caches lurked around this place too, so I set right to it. I put in another couple of miles on foot over the next hour, not to mention snagged another cool bunch of caches. Once I was done, I went into this gigantic store, not quite sure what to expect. Lord have mercy, if I were ever to work in this place, I'm quite sure it would put me off Christmas permanently. It's thousands of square feet of glittering Christmas trees, ornaments, and knick-knacks, with loops of Christmas music playing constantly. Gaudy without being tasteful. Now, don't get me wrong, I love me some Christmas. Seriously, I do. But in its traditional season and in reasonable portions. This could be the very place that prompted Charlie Brown to lament the gross commercialization of Christmas.

But whatever. If you like this kind of thing, then you like it, and that's perfectly fine. I don't claim to have the world's finest taste in anything. And Brugger found a handful of things she liked and planned to give as gifts. They really are nice.

From there, we drove back to Midland. At Del & Fern's, I sawed down some problematic branches from one of their trees in the backyard. Terry clipped the large cuttings into small cuttings and smushed them into refuse containers to be dumped later. Following the manual labor, we sought dinner at Entré Amigos Mexican Restaurant, where we dove into a massive Mexican feast, complete with top-shelf margaritas. It was my first time at this place, and I foresee it becoming a new Midland tradition.

Once back at Casa di Brugger, we set about packing up for our return trip home, which begins in the morning. Then...the mellow evening with the folks.

Holz-Brücke Covered Bridge

 

Tuesday, October 1, 2024: Return to Point Pleasant (Again)

Our last stop before heading home was Point Pleasant, West Virginia, home of the infamous Mothman, star of my first Ameri-Scares novel, West: Virginia: Lair of the Mothman. We arrived late in the afternoon and settled into our B&B — a very nice, older home on Main Street, just a few blocks from the Mothman statue and Mothman Museum (both of which we visited immediately upon our arrival). The interior has a distinctive Mothman decor, full of whimsical charm. Most amusing was that each of the beds had a little stuffed Mothman sitting on the pillows to greet us. The house has a huge, comfortable front porch, so we sat outside with glasses of wine and enjoyed the pleasant, balmy weather.

I took a fairly lengthy walk around the downtown area and gathered information for a couple of EarthCaches. Afterward, for dinner, we picked up some Asian food from nearby Ichiban II Hibachi Steakhouse (which, on my first visit here, a few years ago, was a Mexican/Italian restaurant that actually had delicious food). Then we watched The Mothman Prophecies, as seemed only proper, which we have on our regular Halloween rotation anyway. Though it takes great liberties with the actual Mothman legend, it's one of my favorite creepy films.

The vice-presidential debate between Tim Walz and J.D. Vance followed. I don't imagine it swayed anyone to any great degree, but its civility and focus on issues rather than personalities was a refreshing change from the exhausting, nonsensical orange baboon noise.

After that, bedtime, and in the morning, we'll set out on the final leg of our trip home. It's been a wonderful week-plus for our little troupe. We were so fortunate to have been spared the devastating impact of Hurricane Helene; our house/cat sitter told us our house is fine, for which I'm immensely thankful. The effect it's had on so many people is almost beyond belief.

Until the next time...

Our Point Pleasant AirB&B

Lovely Mothman decor!

Lil Mothman Dude!

"Road Trip! Ishpeming or Bust! (Part 1)"

From Midland to the Mothman

Brugger and I received our first COVID-19 vaccinations on last Wednesday, so we’re halfway there. Yay!

Saturday, March 20, 2021

At the ass-crack of dawn, we left Greensboro for a long-planned visit with Ms B’s folks in Midland, MI. Happily, Del & Fern got their rounds of shots several weeks ago, so, barring vile variants or other unforeseen complications, they’re well defended against death cooties. Regardless, Brugger and I isolated ourselves even more than usual for the past week or so. As on our previous trip this past September (see “Midland with a Twist”), rather than fly, we opted to undertake the long drive. This time, we took a slightly different route, which added a few miles but shaved some time. We stopped a handful of times for pit stops, a picnic lunch, and a scant few geocaches, and arrived in Midland just after 8 p.m. As is our custom, we sat up fairly late with Del & Fern watching programs about good food, this time, Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy. Kimberly and I particularly enjoyed this one, as it showcased a number of locations we had visited on our trip there in 2019.

The Rodan Mobile arrives in Midland right at sunset

Sunday, March 21, 2021

A beautiful morning, and there are tons of new geocaches in and around Midland, many right in the neighborhood. So, after a pleasing breakfast of pancakes and bacon, I hopped on the bike and pedaled around to a few of them. Quick finds, the lot of them. Following this little adventure, I made revisions to a new short story for the anthology editor. And then... lunch from China Palace, a tasty and non-trivial quantity of food.

Meijer. Whenever we visit the Bruggers, it’s family tradition to hit Meijer to stock up on supplies for the week. No breaking family tradition this trip. I found a Life Magazine Godzilla edition, so on a whim, I bought it. It’s evidently from 2019. Anyway, I’m sure it doesn’t offer a word about Godzilla I don’t already know (if you know me at all, you know I have been a devoted Godzillaphile since the age of four), but it seemed novel enough to warrant picking up. It’s almost funny that, after collecting daikaiju memorabilia for years, spending thousands and thousands of dollars in the process, this is the first Godzilla publication I’ve picked up probably in 25 years or more.

After the shopping, I hopped on the bike again, this time with Ms. B. accompanying. We rode over to nearby Plymouth Park, hunted a handful of geocaches (and met some friendly local geocachers), and then put in a few miles pedaling around the neighborhood. Another mellow evening in the family room for some quality family time, and my blood pressure is probably at an excellent level tonight.

Ms. B. at The Labyrinth at Plymouth Park. She casts a mean shadow.

Monday, March 22, 2021

It was another beautiful morning fit for bike riding, but today I had a slightly different plan. I needed to return to Meijer to pick up a couple of items, so I headed out in the Rodan Mobile, snagged a half-dozen caches around the Midland Mall area, and then did my shopping. Another family tradition is for me to play chef for a day, and today was the day. Del and Fern had seen pics of my recent bout with Bolognese and decided it was only fitting I should treat them to some. So I spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen while they went off in search of a new toilet for one of theirs that had decided to go south. It’s possible I got the better end of this deal.

And the verdict is in: the Bolognese was some pretty good shit.

After letting the big dinner settle, I finally headed out on the bike. Put in quite a few miles this go-round, and picked up several more caches. Ms. B. got a new laptop, so once I returned, we spent a little while getting things set up. Lord, Microsoft used to be a pain in the ass. It’s now a fucking ludicrous pain in the ass, getting in the way of almost everything you want to set up that isn’t specifically Microsoft. There were words.

Tuesday, March 23, 2021

I have put in some lengthy bike rides in Midland, but I believe this morning’s pedal set a personal record. I covered the entire northeast quadrant of Midland and then some, snagging 19 caches (and failing to find several others) in the process. Most of these were of the typical park & grab variety, though a few proved a bit more interesting. One of them had reduced some poor, unfortunate geocachers to naught but bones. At another one, I felt I was being watched the entire time I spent looking for it. Near there, at a church where the cache was hidden, a churchy muggle accosted me and invited me to come for a visit on Sunday. On my long ride home, I saw Ms. B. and the family in the car heading the other way — out toward Clare to visit some antique shops.

Rarely has a shower, leftover Bolognese, ice cream, and fresh hot coffee been more welcome.

For the afternoon, I made some forward progress in my newest Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill.

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Although I woke to another beautiful Midland morning, there was no cycling on today’s docket. I had to deal with some of my brother’s estate business, which ended up taking more time than I expected (and I had expected quite a lot). Then our crew hit the road for Saginaw, the Brugger folk for antiquing, the old fellow for geocaching. Now, I would generally not associate a place called The Antique Warehouse with a fantastic Italian beef sandwich, but this place has ’em. We enjoyed an excellent lunch together and then parted company. Off I went for some caches. The first was right there on the store’s property — or, rather, it was supposed to be. After a lengthy search, I couldn’t find the damned thing. I did find ample evidence of severe flooding, so I suspect the container ended up in the Saginaw River or something such. However, from there, I went after several others, and succeeded admirably with these.

Once antiqued out in Saginaw, the gang wanted to visit Warmbier Farms, a big old gift store in Williams Township, about midway between Saginaw and Midland. I have cached around that area on other outings similar to this one, and I did the same again today. Only one cache required me to walk a significant distance. It was at this cache, when I had reached farthest point from the car, that the bottom fell out. Big rain. Big, BIG rain. Big, WET rain. Wet ME. Believe you me, I got wet.

Needless to say, as soon as I got back to the car, the rain stopped.

Before the rain: Old Rodan and the Zilwaukee Bridge over the Saginaw River

A fun fellow with ammo can we
discovered in the forest

Thursday, March 26, 2021

The morning turned out a bit gray and chilly, but Brugger and I went forth, as we had planned, to the Midland City Forest, a short distance north of Casa di Brugger. Over 20 miles of trails wind through the forest, and after a few trips out there, Ms. B. and I have set foot on quite a few of them. This morning, we headed for a section I had never explored before, so a good many caches awaited my attention there. I managed to find most of those I hunted. There were tough caches, easy caches, creative caches, fun caches. We found a man made of wood carrying an ammo can around; a meteorite; a diamond in the rough; a birdhouse that wasn’t; and a bridge with a troll under it. Well, there wasn’t a troll down there until I went under the bridge, but... well... there it is. Ms. B. got in a wee bit of nature photography, which she most enjoys. I tell you this, I have exercised on this trip like I haven’t exercised in a long while, and I can surely feel it — in a good way, of course, except maybe for the pain of it.

Afterward, we set a course for Mancino’s, which is one of those places you do not fail to visit when you are in Midland. Brugger ordered her usual Italian grinder, which, as I can testify, is one of the best sandwiches on earth. And I opted for a Mango Habanero Steak grinder, which, as I can now testify, is also one of the best sandwiches on earth. A worthy rival to the Italian beef sandwich I scarfed down at The Antique Warehouse on yesterday.

A little forward progress on the creative writing endeavors, a final trip to Meijer, and what a fine penultimate day of our Midland trip this has been.

There are some rough-looking trolls in Michigan.

And the occasional meteorite lounging about in Michigan.

If you look carefully, you might see Ms. B. checking out real estate in Michigan.

And if you listen, you might hear a chorus of peeping frogs making a mighty racket in Michigan.

Friday, March 26, 2021

After a wonderful, relaxing yet invigorating week, our time at the Bruggers’ in Midland had come to an end. Ms. B. and I rose relatively early, loaded up the Rodan Mobile, said our farewells, and hit the road, now bound for Point Pleasant, WV, home of the infamous Mothman. I had visited Point Pleasant in September of 2018 while researching my Ameri-Scares novel, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman (see “Lair of the Mothman,” September 30, 2018). I had loved the place, the lore, and... of course... the geocaching! It made for a perfect overnight stop on the long haul back to North Carolina. A while back, I had made reservations at the historic Lowe Hotel, where I had stayed on my previous trip. After a long and less-than-relaxing drive — traffic was bonkers all the way down — we arrived in Point Pleasant late in the afternoon. Pronto, we bolted for the Mothman Museum, so we might spend a little time there before it closed. I had explored it in depth on my last visit, but Ms. B. was keen on checking out the plentiful paraphernalia, especially props from the film, The Mothman Prophecies. Once done, we walked across the street to the Lowe Hotel and checked in. Since I was a return visitor, the proprietor was kind enough to give us a suite for the same price I would have paid for a single room. (As an aside, on the Lowe Hotel website, the header image with the room key is actually the key to our suite — which is officially what room 328 now is: OUR suite.) I can hardly recommend the Lowe Hotel highly enough. The place is exceptionally clean (as it ought to be during the pandemic); requires masks (as it ought to during the pandemic); and is, above  all things, haunted. As on my previous stay, I saw no ghosts, but this hardly means they are not around. They simply don’t care to be traumatized by the character of certain guests, whose names shall not be mentioned here.

Once ensconced in our lodgings — and feeling the great starvation — we ordered a pizza from Village Pizza, which has its own connection to the Mothman. In 1966, the first individuals to witness the Mothman in the TNT Area, several miles north of Point Pleasant, fled the site and stopped at the location that is now Village Pizza. Our pizza? Well, it was fucken good. Once we finished our dinner, just after sunset, we hit the road once again — this time bound for the TNT Area, which had provided me with a big day of geocaching on my previous visit. Last time, however, I had experienced the place only in daylight, and I was dying to experience it after dark. We drove deep into the heart of the forest, once the site of a massive ammunition manufacturing/storage facility. From last time, I recalled the location of an open TNT storage bunker (these are called “igloos”) and made tracks for it. Sure enough, there it was, its doors still gaping wide, its interior as dark and creepy as all get out, just as I remembered (see accompanying video).

Interior of the Lowe Hotel, Point Pleasant, WV

Point Pleasant sunset, viewed from our window at the Lowe Hotel

View from Tu Endi Wei park of the bridge into Point Pleasant over the Kanawha River

View of the railroad bridge over the Ohio River from the Point Pleasant river walk

Since Ms. B. is less a geocacher than a sometimes-almost-willing accomplice, on this night, I figured I really should refrain from geocaching in earnest. However, one nearby cache looked particularly promising, so, once we quitted the igloo, I set my sights on it. At GZ, I found a huge, flat rock, as mentioned in the cache’s description. I located an opening underneath the rock that appeared perfect for a good-sized container. Then, upon aiming my flashlight into this gaping maw, I discovered, not a cache, but... a possum! Possum gives me a pretty scary leer, for he clearly had not expected visitors. Fortunately, he quickly vacated the premises. Seeing he was gone, I shone my light back into the opening, and this time spied the cache. Using my hiking stick, I was able to extract the container from its cubby. And once done, I re-hid it in a nearby, equally secure opening so that Possum could settle back in his preferred surroundings, if that was his desire. I hated to disturb him, and I really hope he doesn’t hold a grudge.

From there, we drove back to the hotel. Ms. B. was particularly keen on watching The Mothman Prophecies, so we decided to stream it on my laptop. The film diverges considerably from the “true” events, but it’s an exceedingly well-done movie, engaging to both emotion and intellect, drawing just enough from the source material to tell a compelling, original story. I love it. Along with Night (Curse) of the Demon and John Carpenter’s The Thing, it rates as an all-time favorite fright film.

And thus ended our week-long respite from the world. Our drive back to Greensboro turned out to be a bear — almost non-stop raging rainstorms, generating roughly 600 billion metric tons of human stupidity on the highways. But we arrived safely home, and this trip goes into my personal history book as one of our best ever.

And so, for now, I shall bid you good night.

Inside the Mothman Museum in Point Pleasant

Possum!

Lair of the Mothman

Indeed, Lair of the Mothman is the title of my upcoming novel in Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares series—to be released in 2019, probably early in the year—and this past weekend, I went to check out the original lair for myself. I've just returned from a couple of pleasant, if physically taxing, days in Point Pleasant, WV, where the Mothman legend originated. On this trip, I alternated between straight-up fact-finding and geocaching, though the latter actually is research, since the novel's plot involves geocaching

On Friday, 9/28, I left Greensboro right about noon, stopped for a handful of caches on the way, and passed through Charleston, WV, about 4:00 p.m. Just west of the city, I turned off on US 35, which follows the Kanawha River on a northwest course. Fifteen miles or so out from Point Pleasant, I saw massive plumes of steam rising into the sky from the James M. Gavin Power Plant, about ten miles north of Point Pleasant, across the river in Ohio. No matter where I was in the area, those massive chimneys became prominent sights.

The annual Mothman Festival in Point Pleasant took place a couple of weeks ago, and while it may be an immensely entertaining event, for my purposes, I preferred a more private, personalized sojourn. I had originally planned to leave early on Saturday and stay for one night, so I had booked a  room for that evening at the historic Lowe Hotel in downtown Point Pleasant. As it turned out, schedule-wise, I determined I could do Friday night as well, so I got myself a room at the Knight's Inn across the river in Gallipolis, OH. Not unexpectedly, the accommodations there were fairly spartan, but very comfortable and clean, and it came with more than the customary amenities for a cheap hotel room. I approve. After checking in there, I drove back across the Silver Memorial Bridge into Point Pleasant to wander about (read hunt geocaches) and procure some vittles. I was both surprised and pleased to encounter several local geocachers at the different caches I visited. Dinner happened at the Lighthouse Grill, where I ripped into a big old burger with some fabulous beer-battered fries. An enchanting spot.

One of the hundreds of clippings from the local
newspaper from the original Mothman scare

Now, I've seen The Mothman Prophecies several times, and I quite enjoy it. The movie was filmed in Kittanning, PA, and while the place looks enough like West Virginia on the screen, I was not at all surprised to find that the film's setting and the actual location bear little resemblance to each other. Point Pleasant is quaint, loaded with history (and geocaches), picturesque in the extreme, and the perfect small town for weird things to happen. Perhaps its most prominent centerpiece is the stainless steel Mothman statue, situated at Main and 4th Streets, constructed by scupltor Bob Roach in 2003. On this block, you will also find The Mothman Museum, which features Mothman memorabilia of every conceivable sort, as well as original newspaper clippings about the events that gave rise to the legend; massive amounts of information about the collapse of the Silver Bridge in December, 1967; and a multitude of original props from the film. The museum is the brainchild of Point Pleasant native Jeff Wamsley, whom I had hoped to meet, as I had become more than a little familiar with him via numerous Mothman documentaries I had watched over the past few weeks. Sadly, our paths never crossed, though I spent considerable time at the museum yesterday morning and found some enjoyable and informative conversation with the gentleman in charge of the place at the time.

Original art from The Mothman Prophecies on display at the Mothman Museum in downtown Point Pleasant

The first sightings of the Mothman occurred near the McClintic Wildlife Management Area, a.k.a. "The TNT Area," about 8 miles north of Point Pleasant. During WWII, a massive munitions plant and storage facility occupied this area, hence its explosive epithet. After the war, the place was abandoned, and much of it was simply overtaken by dense forest. There are still dozens of semi-spherical storage bunkers—known as "igloos"—to be found in that area. There are also dozens upon dozens of geocaches hidden around the TNT Area.

Informative map given to me at the Mothman Museum

And thus, Saturday morning, I headed north on Highway 62, continually drawing nearer to those massive, steaming chimneys from the Gavin power plant across the Ohio River. I stopped for a handful of caches along the way. About 11:00 a.m., I turned down Potters Creek Road, which features in my novel. And as I drove deeper into the incredibly dense forest, I began to get a sense of just how creepy this place could actually be.

For the most part, I was entirely alone out here, which I quite appreciated, although I could occasionally hear distant gunfire from a shooting range a couple of miles in. There are several night caches in the area, and I had initially thought about heading back after dark to give one or more of them a try. After learning the hard way about the sheer difficulty of navigating these woods even in daylight, I eventually decided against going out there alone at night....

I found about a dozen caches in the TNT area over four hours or so, and failed to find a couple of others. From these hunts, the thing I learned first and foremost was this: on geocaching.com's rating scale for terrain, with 1 being the easiest and 5 being the hardest, your average rating here is about an 8. At no time was this more evident than on a long hike out to a cache high up in a tree—titled "Wrong Turn"(GC5KNZV), after the movie of that name, which features a scene up in a tree. Being on a "trail" out here meant that the briers, brambles, and creepers would only swallow you in little pieces, rather than whole. Happily, I negotiated the tree-climbing challenge without issue. My egress from ground zero, however, was a whole 'nuther story. I ended up straying from the path by which I had entered—by no more than 50 feet, according to my GPS—and found myself surrounded by utterly impassable thickets in every direction. I cannot fathom how I even got into them, since I could scarcely go back the way I had come. The 200-some-foot bushwhack I ended up undertaking to get back to merely impenetrable spaces sewed up any hope of returning later, for between the tree climb and several hours of rigorous hiking, I was physically spent (or so I thought).

Despite my growing fatigue, I continued to hunt several more caches, a number of which brought me to overgrown, sealed-up igloos. At one igloo, however, I found the massive steel doors gaping wide, revealing only deep, subterranean darkness. Being occasionally foolhardy, especially when caching is involved, I went right on in to check it out, only considering—when I woke up at 5:00 a.m. in a cold sweat—that, had those doors somehow closed on me, I'd be there right now, and possibly for the rest of my abbreviated life. Ah, zut. As it turned out, the experience proved a hoot. The echo effect in that steel dome gave me an agreeable case of the chills.

A few miles out from the TNT area, the Gavin power plant chimneys across the Ohio river spewing steam

Left: Mr. Death, about 20 feet up in a tree; Right: Mr. Rodan, about 20 feet up in a tree,
holding onto Mr. Death for dear life

Old munitions storage igloo, sealed.

Old munitions storage igloo, gaping wide. You think I'm gonna go in there?

Dingy-dang right I'm going in there.

Eventually, I made my way out of the TNT area, alive and almost kicking, only to stop for a few more caches on the way back to town proper, one of which offered, but did not require, a change of elevation of the higher altitude persuasion. Naturally, I enjoyed availing myself to it.

Once ensconced in my room at the Lowe Hotel, I did a little sightseeing in the building itself. The Lowe Hotel dates back to the very early 20th century and is, without question, the most atmospheric setting in which I have ever taken lodging. The place is reputedly haunted—of course!—and while I encountered no spookiness of the ghostly variety, the decor and size of the place did bring to mind the old Broad Street Hotel in my hometown of Martinsville, where, when I was a kid, the family often went for dinner. I loved to explore those old hallways, though the dark stairwell leading upward scared the bejezus out of me. The place is, sadly, long gone, but the Lowe Hotel brought back every delicious frisson I ever experienced at the Broad Street Hotel in the early 1960s.

My home away from home, the Lowe Hotel

Come early evening, I was back out and about in the downtown area, where I went after a couple of multi/mystery caches that required considerable walking. I conquered these hides, then went roaming in search of dinner. I found it at what I had initially considered a somewhat dubious option—Two Waters, a Mexican-slash-Italian restaurant—but which proved quite, quite good. Grilled pork chop, salad, baked potato, roasted vegetables, and some of the best bread with olive oil and herbs I've ever had. Plus they had one of my favorite wines, Cantina Zacagnini Montepulciano, which complemented dinner beautifully.

My haunted hallway

After the day's rigorous activities, I found myself dead, deceased, bereft of life, and resting in peace, so I returned to my chambers at the Lowe Hotel, changed into my comfy clothes, and settled in for the evening—only to realize there were still two caches nearby, both of which required considerable walking around town to procure clues that would reveal the final coordinates. I suppose it goes without saying that I got up, threw on my boots, and went out after them. I had left in such a hurry, however, that when I reached the first of the two containers, I realized I had left my writing implement back in my room. Damnation, I had no means signing the frippin' log sheet! But yay—the container contained a pencil! However, I harbored grave doubts that the other would accommodate such an unforgivably forgetful geocacher. So I borrowed the pencil, made my way to the other cache, and used my borrowed implement to sign the log. Then, before returning to the hotel, I returned the pencil to its rightful location, as I would have felt guilty about depriving another unforgivably forgetful geocacher of such a basic benefit.

At last, I did return to my hotel room, fell over, and died.

Today, I came home. And much writing lies in wait for me.

My haunted chamber

The haunted parlor

Inside the igloo