Ouch!, Riverbend Ramble, and a Bunch of Aged Geocachers

Yep, there's a geocache at that wreck you see above. I think I can safely say it's one of the most unusual settings for a cache I've seen in quite a while. It was placed by friend and fellow geocacher, Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom), whose birthday happens to be today. To celebrate, he and his wife Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda) hosted a caching event at the Freeway Dining Room in Reidsville. It was a fun event, with damn good food and quite a few cachers in attendance.

Afterward, I teamed up with friends David & Diana (a.k.a. David & Diana), Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Night-Hawk (a.k.a. Tom) and Rhodorooter (a.k.a. Dave), for a little ride up the road to Danville, where a few relatively new caches awaited our attention. Our primary target was Riverbend Ramble (GCB9J29), a six-stage multi on the Danville Riverwalk Trail, which both Night-Hawk and I had made some progress on a short while back, but we had failed to solve the clues to reach the final stage. This time, with invaluable assistance from David & Diana, we were able to decode the necessary keys and find the cache. It turned out to be great fun, all the more so because the temperature finally turned somewhat more tolerable (87℉ rather than triple digits, and there was an occasional almost-cool breeze).

 

We successfully hunted a couple of others nearby, and then I dragged my near-exhausted self back home. This evening, I'll be in my regular seat on the Sunday evening  Lovecraft eZine Podcast, which will feature John Langan talking about his new fiction collection. He will be appropriately heckled.

 

Laters.

Two-Thirds of 666

Well, another revolution around the sun completed—66 of them now. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, all that good stuff. I may not be quite the energetic, daft young fellow I was yesterday, but I'm doing all right. Ms. B. had surgery earlier this week, so I've been playing almost-nurse maid for a couple of days, but she's doing as well as can be expected, and she felt up to going out for dinner tonight (though not up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and Chateau Morrisette, which was our first choice prior to knowing her surgery schedule.

But I jump ahead. I woke up right about sun-up, buried by the usual furry suspects, though I lay in bed for another hour or so. Once up and about, I decided to head down toward Reidsville for some traditional birthday geocaching. There were 17 mostly park & grab caches awaiting my presence, so I knocked them out and got back home at lunchtime, so I treated myself to a grilled cheese sandwich. Hopefully, all that cheesy, buttery goodness won't subtract a year from the life clock. Lord knows I haven't eaten all that healthily since the first of the year. But I've been walking my ass off daily; as of now, my 365-day average daily number of steps is 8,890 (4.03 miles per day).

 

So, for dinner, we went to TAD Tavern, Martinsville's most upscale restaurant (which I hope is doing okay because there wasn't much of a crowd tonight). I had a fantastic bison steak, with martini, and Kim had a brussels sprout salad with chicken and a Chardonnay. Then we came home and spent the usual late evening watching TV together (Godzilla vs. Destroyah and Dexter: Original Sin).

 

Ms. B. gave me a Godzilla figure as a present. Any birthday with Godzilla is a lovely birthday. Hopefully, we'll all make it till next year and there will be more Godzilla. Peace out.

Cache In, Trash Out in Browns Summit

Geocaching is not solely about hunting hidden containers and scribbling your moniker on a log sheet. Geocaching is intended to be an environmentally friendly activity, so, in keeping with that concept, geocachers periodically get together at what's known as CITO ("Cache In, Trash Out") events, where the focus is on cleaning up litter.

As they do each year, friends Tom & Linda (a.k.a. Skyhawk63 & Punkins19) hosted a CITO event this morning near their place in Browns Summit, NC, along a stretch of rural road that they adopted in honor of Tom's parents. I got up early and headed down to the event ("Bud & Ann Memorial CITO Spring 2025") where a fair number of geocachers were gathering to attack trash. For the next hour and a half, we scoured a mile-long stretch of the roadway, which passes through a lovely section of forest along the Haw River. By the time we were done, one would have been hard-pressed to find a speck of garbage along there with a magnifying glass.

To cap off the morning's work, Tom & Linda then hosted a lunch event ("Post-CITO Lagagna Fest—Yum!) at their place, featuring Linda's fantastic homemade lasagna. Afterward, friend Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and I set our sights on a bunch of new geocaches around Reidsville, which we knocked out during the rest of the afternoon. A good, productive time from start to finish.

 

The CITO event was long-planned, and I'm glad I took part in it; however, I was sad to miss the local "Hands Off!" protest, as many folks of my acquaintance attended them around the country. I applaud everyone who turned out for these important—and peaceful—protests, as Trump's executive power has gotten far enough out of hand to frighten to anyone who reveres the United States Constitution. MAGAts sure as hell don't, and it's way past time to see a change.

Divine Llama or Bust

Sometimes, you get et by the tree

For geocaching numbers, yesterday made for couple of fun ones. A pair of new caches published in Danville on Friday evening, while I was in Martinsville. I figured I could swing over to Danville and pick them up on my way back to Greensboro on Saturday morning. As luck would have it, a new geoart series came out near Reidsville, also close to my route home. One of the Danville caches lurks at a pretty awesome spot: a Monacan Indian burial mound. Chalk up another location I would never have discovered if not for geocaching. Anyway, I snagged the coveted first-to-find slot at 11:21 a.m. on 11/21, which I found kinda cool. And after grabbing a bunch of the new series, my cache find count came in at 12,345. Also kinda cool. WELL, IT IS FOR SOME OF US GEEKS! (Note that I am really not a geek. No. Really.)

Today’s Sunday geocaching crew wasn’t much of a crew — just friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) and this old man. Bright and early, we set a course for Winston-Salem, figuring we would hit Bethania and C. G. Hill Memorial Park for geocaches, then wander toward Divine Llama Winery, a short distance northwest, for refreshments. Sadly, Bethania turned out to be a bust. Due to massive flooding from the heavy rains a couple of weeks back, it was clear the entire trail system had been underwater. All the caches there — four of them — had gone missing. By now, they may be floating around in Cape Fear or someplace. Most disappointing.

Scott finds a big honking
nano in the woods

However, at our next port of call — C. G. Hill Memorial Park in nearby Pfafftown — we experienced no such misfortune. All the caches there turned out to be present and accounted for. We also discovered an impressive work of nature: a massive poplar tree some 600 years old, hollowed out due to a lightning strike unknown centuries ago. That tree has seen a lot of history, including sheltering a farmer's livestock during a northern raid in Civil War days. Intriguing stuff.

We then set our sights on Divine Llama Winery, by way of a puzzle cache, the coordinates to which I had solved a few weeks ago, along the Yadkin River. At the cache site, however, we again met with ill fortune. The flooding here exceeded any I think I have seen in this area. A layer of sand and silt several feet deep now covers god knows how many acres around the river. The area in question is where a group of us, Scott included, put our kayaks in the river a few years back, when I went after my 7,000th cache (“No Acercarse,” May 18, 2014). Due to the flooding, the whole place is unrecognizable, and I wonder if the parking area will ever be restored. Or will it simply be allowed to return to nature? I can’t help but think that excavating the parking area would be prohibitively expensive.

Anyway, at last, we made it to Divine Llama. A crowd was already gathering, and it grew prodigious to what would have been a disconcerting degree had they not done such a good job spacing out seating and such. Everything was done outside, and people were very good about wearing masks and taking the proper precautions. As I always do, I kept plenty of distance between the Randolph County Rabble (i.e., Scott) and me.

We finished things up by grabbing a couple of newer hides in Bethabara Park, and I stopped for a lone  hide in High Point, not far from the office (which I hope to NOT have to return to once the pandemic subsides). Anyway, it’s been a fine weekend for geocaching, quality time with Brugger, writing, and getting some necessary business taken care of. Lordy knows, tomorrow it’s back to ye old salt mines. Happily, for a while yet, the salt mines are still just downstairs, rather than twenty freaking miles out Interstate 40.

Laters.

About the ancient poplar

New sand dunes along the Yadkin River

Keeping a respectable distance from the Randolph County Rabble

Old feller at Monacan Indian burial mound

Be My Frozen Valentine

Kimberly and I had our celebratory Valentine's dinner on Friday night, which was fortunate, since, at the moment, the weather has taken a rather icy turn. This was my weekend to go to Martinsville to help Mum, so Friday, on our way up, we had a fine, fine dinner at The Celtic Fringe in Reidsville, one of our favorite bistros in the area. Why, of course there was a cache to grab on the way; in fact, there we ran into our local caching legend, Mr. Tom "Night-hawk" Kidd himself. For Valentine's Day, Ms. B. presented me with one of her custom, handmade cards, which she enjoys creating (see above), along with a very cool cast iron bat — the critter, not the club — to hang on my wall. (Apparently, her dad picked it out and told her, "This is Mark." Nice one, Delmar.) After dinner, we headed on to Mom's, and after taking care of some business affairs, Kimberly and I settled in to enjoy a bit more wine and a few episodes of The Walking Dead.

"It's a trap!"

And since then, it's been a busy weekend. Yesterday, I spent the morning dealing with Mum's affairs, and then Kimberly and I headed out for Stonefield Cellars Winery in Stokesdale, where we met up with some friends to sample a few particularly enjoyable wines. Why, yes... funny you should ask... yes, I did stop for a cache, at Belews Lake. Then there were more friends, more refreshment, and, finally, the journey home, where I narrowly escaped being mauled (see accompanying photo).

This morning, I woke early to a telltale buzz from my phone, and in a sleepy haze I thought, "Well, that might be a new cache notification." For the next half eon, I lay there in the twilight zone, unwilling to reach beyond that two feet of void for the phone. Some passage of time later, I finally did this thing, and — sure enough — it's a new cache, practically right up the street. I struggled into my shoes, started down the stairs, and realized my attire was inadequate for stepping out of my front door. With some effort, I remedied the situation, and off I went, stopping along the way to grab some coffee at the nearest convenience store.

I arrived at the specified parking coordinates and noticed the temperature on my car dash read 15 freakin' degrees. Now I'm thinking this is one of those times when I might not be quite right in my head. Then, just as I start making my way to the trail head, a vehicle pulls up, and — looky — it's Mr. Feathered Friends. With some grumbles about the temperature, we headed for ground zero, about a quarter mile down this very nice, very frozen trail. Once there, a particular spot caught my eye, and I gave it a cursory examination, only to find nothing. I checked a couple of other places, but the GPS kept bringing me back to my original search site. I looked again and — ah, but yes! — the cache is there after all, very well-concealed. Opened the container and, with near-frozen fingers, fumbled my way into the log. Blank! So, Feathered Friends and I dirtied it up, snagging a nice co-first-to-find at 8:15 AM. A nice, if frigid way to start the day.

T'ain't a fit night out for man nor beast!

And tonight, here comes the snow. It wasn't supposed to begin till after midnight, but about 7:15, I paused War of the Gargantuas, glanced outside, and saw white. Now, I gotta tell you, Greensboro has a lousy track record for keeping the power on in even mildly adverse weather. Since the forecast calls for some freezing rain tomorrow, I figured I might ought to run up to the store and grab some fire logs. So I drove to Harris Teeter, which was, quite naturally, very crowded; I grabbed some fire logs and a few other items, and came out to find the snow coming down in earnest, along with a rather significant amount of accumulation. I could tell right away this was going to be a slippery one, and — oh, lord — it came so close to being a repeat of that fateful storm almost exactly two years ago (see "The Great White Beast," February 12, 2014) that I damn near kissed the snowy ground when I got back into my driveway. And when I say I barely made it, I exaggerate not even a smidgen. There were cars sliding all over the hill down the road from my house, and at least one went into the adjacent ditch. The driver did manage to get out of there, but once I arrived safely home (fifty feet from my driveway, I still had doubts), I walked down the street and watched as one car after another narrowly escaped disaster. For all I know, there may be a disaster — or one brewing — down there right now.

Me, I'm just hoping the power stays on. I already went through several days of icy temperatures in my own house a couple of weeks back, and I'd like to not go through it again, thank you very much.

Do be safe.

That Which Doesn’t Kill You...

...makes you invincible! I tell you, it's the best burger I have ever suffered through: the Welsh Dragon Burger at The Celtic Fringe in Reidsville, NC. It's a third-pound Angus beef patty simmered in their one-and-only Welsh Dragon ghost pepper sauce and topped with pepper jack cheese, candied red cabbage, arugula, and mayonnaise. (I even like to dip my french fries — which are excellent, in a side cup of the sauce.) Make no mistake, this is pure, delicious, wonderful hellfire! Candied red cabbage and just a veneer of mayo complement this sweet, fiery ghost pepper concoction.

Inevitably, if you order a Welsh Dragon Burger, your server will ask you if you're aware of what you're getting into, and justifiably so, as I can only imagine the folly of some tyro with a passing fondness for hot sauce going all-out with one of these. Not a good idea, my friends. I will mention that I've turned a couple of folks of my acquaintance onto this burger — in one case favorably; in the other, not so much. If you are invincible, I invite you to come around one of these days and join me at The Celtic Fringe. There's a good selection of beer, wine, and assorted spirits to wash it down. Trust me, you're gonna need 'em.

Haunting Reidsville Again

This one is just a quick personal memoir. After returning to Greensboro from a nice visit with Mom yesterday, I set to work turning Casa de Rodan into a proper haunted house for the evening's supper club gathering — putting the jack-o'-lanterns (Ernst and Emilio) into their proper outdoor perches, laying out interior decorations to horrify the unwary guest, and getting dinner (authentic Mexican tacos with chicken and chorizo) underway. We ended up with the full gang in attendance, which made for a somewhat crowded house, but everything came together well enough. After dinner, we had the annual celebratory viewing of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which means that Halloween can actually happen now. It was clearly quite fun for Joe Albanese, who hadn't seen the show since childhood. Mortifying, I know.

After the gathering broke up, Ms. B. and I inaugurated the fire pit I had won at the office Employee Appreciation Day back in the spring. Very pleasant out there, to be sure, despite getting dribbled on by a bit of rain.

This morning, Bloody Rob and Bridget came round so that we could hit the road and snag a few caches up Reidsville way. I only needed three, which I found, but because I'm the nicest rotten bastard geocacher in town, I took them around to get a bunch of others I had picked up on past excursions. Happily, I was rewarded with a fantastic lunch at The Celtic Fringe, where I had chicken wings with their ultra-potent Welsh Dragon sauce.

Something tells me I'm going to be having leftover chicken tacos for dinner tonight.

Just a few goodies for anyone feeling peckish before dinner last night

Ernst, standing vigil as the guests began to arrive

A couple of ghouls searching for delectables around the old Governor Reid house in Reidsville