A Storm-Defying Cookout — HA!

Old Dude, Samaire, Bob, Brugger, & Yvonne

For at least the past month, our southern Virginia weather has been fucking insane. For most of my life, this has been a temperate area, rarely suffering extreme weather, but now it's absolutely tropical. 100% humidity and in the mid- to high-90°F range every morning, and powerful, oftentimes damaging storms later in the afternoon/evening. Rinse and repeat (literally) every single day. It's never been like this here in my lifetime, and though there's naught one can do about the weather (especially since the Orange Fuckturd has basically declared climate change a hoax), I'm absolutely over it. It's wreaking havoc on our house, and the constant, excessive water is eroding away all the topsoil, particularly around the trees that surround our lot (any one of which might take us out if it falls — and a lot of trees have fallen in the neighborhood in the past few weeks). Not to mention there have been several record-level, damaging floods in this region (though at least they haven't reached scale of the recent Texas disaster, which killed people and ruined livelihoods).

 

So, when friend, fellow writer, and publisher of Fugue Devil: Resurgence, Samaire Wynne, invited Brugger and me, as well as friends Bob & Yvonne, to an afternoon cookout at her place, we all wondered whether the weather would simply up and squash our plans. But we nonetheless decided to proceed, and — despite the weather's earnest efforts — we had a hell of a fine, fun gathering. Yep, it dumped rain, and it hit us with thunder and lightning, but we persevered. Samaire had a large stand-up canopy that we braced to keep the wind from sweeping it away, and, fortunately, it kept us — and our feast — safe from the rain and generally comfy (excepting, of course, the 90°F temps and 100% humidity). We had some fabulous burgers, chicken skewers, egg salad, pasta salad, drinks aplenty, and other goodies. It felt like a much-needed balm for the raw nerves we've all felt over the past days, weeks, and months.

 

It's going to be a busy week, with some serious home repair/maintenance to do as well as a fuck-ton of writing (I've got two novels in the works as we speak). I hope we don't get washed away or flattened before this most unloved season is over and done with.

A Perfect Storm

A much-needed evening oasis at friend Samaire’s place

Sigh. I was going to sit here and elaborate on how stressful and even traumatic some of the snowballing issues that have beset Brugger and me over the past month or so have been (I did, in fact, compose a considerable number of words on the subject). I deleted the bulk of them because it all began to sound like a great big whine. Still, I can’t help it; here is a bit of that post, abridged.

For me, April has historically been the worst month in existence, since it’s in April that I lost my dad, more good friends than the law ought to allow, and the majority of my many beloved pets. Beyond that, it’s in April that the universe, with perverse glee, releases the storm of misfortune it has saved up for us over the course of the preceding year with a great big “BLAM!”

This year, the horrendous sewer line issues that hit us, beginning in March (of which some of you are at least aware, since I did whine a bit), seemed to set off a veritable freight train of new and damn near catastrophically expensive issues.

However, as I wrote this little treatise, it all began to sound like a big whine. Now, on occasion (sometimes on frequent occasions), I have been known to vent. Anyone who has heard me vent will almost certainly testify that, to the chronic pessimist, my vent is a thing of rare beauty. Conversely, to the blissful live-for-today-first-world-problems-mean-naught-zen-is-good kind of soul (or simply the uninitiated), more a display of explosive horror (or perhaps amusement, in the way that a spectacular self-inflicted injury can make one chuckle). All that said, there is little more I hate than coming across as a fucking crybaby. Life can be a goddamn bitch, and I know damn well that many, MANY folks would trade places with me in an instant. I’m not without some degree of self-awareness.

Still, in the spirit of my original post, suffice it to say that I’m gonna call this April a pilgrimage to the summit of Fuck-This-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Bullshit-Fucking-What-the-Fuckity-Fuck Mountain. To the more level-headed, even-tempered souls among you (however deluded you might be), this was a mere uptick in the severity of pretty-damned-severe first-world problems.

There were good things. In fact, many good things. Most recently, Scares That Care AuthorCon II was one of the best events ever, as far as affirming my life choices as a writer. Similarly, Shortwave Publishing announced what I feel is one of the most important creative projects I’ve overseen, the next chapter in the history of Deathrealm, a brainchild of mine from almost four decades ago. I sold a couple of short stories. And this April saw some lovely times with good, GOOD friends, which helped me realign my sights on what’s really important.

Well, okay, yeah, I’ve still whined (and I’ll do it again, maybe soon). But this one is fucking done. At least April is, until next year, history.

A Graveside Chat with Samaire Wynne

Author — and now publisher — Samaire Wynne is known for writing compelling fantasy novels, particularly those in her Mad World series, Romanov series, Titania Academy series, The Paladin Princess series, and others, via her own imprint, Black Raven Books. A few years back, I discovered, much to my surprise, that she had moved, not only to my old hometown, but very near my house! So for this Graveside Chat, we’ll talk about what Samaire is currently up to and what’s coming down the pike.

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GC: Tell us a bit about you — where you come from, where you're going, and what inspires you as both a reader and writer.

SW: I come from a California Marine Corps family based in San Diego. I am currently an east coast resident and I write fantasy and horror. What inspires me as a reader is an exciting story. If that story can make me squirm, all the better.

What excites me as a writer is exploring new corners of favorite genres. I love delving into the modern unknown areas of old fables. Remarkably, I have had some success at this, mainly in exploring the present day explorations of ancient faerie myths.

GC: You've written quite a few fantasy novels, particularly series novels. Are you drawn more to writing series than stand-alone novels?

SW: Yes, I prefer to write in series format. Mainly because I create long stories and there would be no other way to present them to the reading public. Each book is 80k-120k words. Each series has 8-15 books planned. These are long, involved stories full of magic and adventure. It takes a lot of storytelling to explore each corner of these worlds, and do them justice. I leave no stone unturned, my readers demand this and I am happy to oblige.

GC: Who are your favorite authors? How have they influenced your work?

SW: My favorite authors are the fantasy authors that like to make their readers at least mildly uncomfortable. The pinnacle of these is Neil Gaiman, who has honed his art to perfection. He and his stories have heavily influenced my work. His stories give examples of the kind of books I love to both read and write, and he himself, as a person, has strongly influenced both me and my writing. Neil has on numerous occasions encouraged me and uplifted me, sometimes through incredibly terrible times in my life. His advice — to write, keep writing, and pour myself onto the page — has helped me more than any other. His personal touch and how he cares have meant more to me than most other things, and he has never let me down nor given me bad advice.

GC: You've written for young adults as well as for us old folks. Do you find writing for a younger audience appreciably different than writing for... shall we say... more seasoned readers? In your YA work, do you tackle controversial topics or imagery? Do you plan to write more books for your YA readers?

SW: I tackle tough subjects in all my books. Bravery and courageous action are what propel my stories forward. I tackle life and death threats, environmental threats, threats to nations and threats to small beings. And in my last series, I tackle a threat to the entire planet. I find writing for a young adult audience very satisfying, because this audience can handle huge dangers and momentous journeys.

When I write for adults, I concentrate more on immediate perils to the characters, and their interactions with each other. Adult stories pull you in, and focus you on the people going through the experiences. They are a more personal experience.

GC: Insert your own question here. Whatever topic, have your say. Anything you want — or have wanted — to share, go for it!

SW: My question for readers: How do you support your favorite writers?

My answer is: Support your favorite writers by buying their books, reviewing their books, and following their recommendations to other books and authors. Expand your horizons to other genres, it can lead to fantastic discoveries.

GC: Thank you, Samaire!

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Visit Samaire Wynne’s website at
www.samairewynne.com

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Coming Soon: Graveside Chats with Brian M. Sammons, Maurice Broaddus, and more

Bushwhacking, Raining, Wining, and Braining

Friday was my last day of full-time work, at least at The Mailbox. Our boss, Sharon, put together a nice Zoom presentation featuring photos of her ten favorite Mark Moments, which I think we all enjoyed. It certainly hit some of the high points from the day job over all these many years. The idea of retirement hasn't really sunk in yet, since tomorrow would have been just another day back at work, and now it won't.

Friday evening, Brugger and I rode up to Martinsville and met friends Samaire and Stephen at La Plazita, a relatively new Mexican restaurant in Uptown Martinsville. The food was pretty good, the service a little less brag-worthy. Stephen said it's been much better on their previous visits, so I'm sure I'll give the place another try before long. Afterward, we retired to Pleasant Hill, where we put our heads together to come up with some ideas for the upcoming release of my collection, Fugue Devil: Resurgence, which Samaire's company, Black Raven Books, is set to release in the spring. We didn't knock off till sometime in the wee hours, but it was both productive and enjoyable.

Yesterday, Ms. B. and I headed down to Autumn Creek Vineyards, where we met friends Terry & Beth for wine and picnicking. The new owners of Autumn Creek — David & Laura — made us feel very welcome, which we appreciated. The wine is decent; North Carolina wine, to be sure, but decent.

This morning, the usual Sunday geocaching gathering of the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars — Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob), and Old Rodan (a.k.a. me) — appeared questionable, given an ominous weather forecast and Natalie not feeling tip-top. However, it wasn't raining at our regular meeting time, and Natalie said she felt better, so off we went, this time to several destinations in and around Winston-Salem. We sought several along the Salem Creek Greenway, all of which were fun, particularly since no rain was falling at the time. Just above, you see me at a cache called "You Shall Not Cross!" (GC9N9HQ). I did kind of want to cross, but since the remains of the old bridge are blocked off, I just opted to stand there for a while.

After that, we snagged a couple of other random caches and then headed to the Muddy Creek Greenway, a few miles west of town. By now, splatters of rain had begun, and once on the trail, it began coming down in earnest. Did this dissuade us? No, because we are tenacious (though I've heard some folks of our acquaintance use any number of other descriptors). We had a fairly long hike ahead of us — about three miles round trip — but we managed to make it somewhat longer and far more difficult. After finding two of our three target caches, we failed to look closely enough at the map to determine that bushwhacking to the next cache without backtracking to the greenway was actually a bad... BAD... idea. The river, we learned, is of considerable breadth and quite in the way. Apart from the plummeting temperature and increasing downpour, we now had dense, tangled woods and lots of deep muckity-muck to complicated our journey. This ended up adding a couple of extra miles of hiking before we could get back on the greenway and backtrack. I'm sure the extra workout in the cold and rain did us a spot of good, don't you think?

It wasn't necessarily fun, but at the end of the day, most gratifying.

This coming week, I plan to put in significant work on my current Ameri-Scares novel and, hopefully, start plotting a new novel for grown-ups. It feels like high time.

Onward.

Big honking railroad bridge over the Salem Creek Greenway

I've not been this wet since the last time we hiked 5.4 miles in a downpour. Some call us tenacious.
Some call us other things.

A Thirty-Year Anniversary — Fugue Devil Resurgence

Indeed, this is going to be a thing, in the not-too-distant future. A new short fiction collection released by Black Raven Books, Fugue Devil Resurgence will feature — surprise, surprise! — the original novelette, “The Fugue Devil,” as well as its sequel, “The Devil’s Eye,” plus ten more of my short stories, a number of which have never  been previously published. The book is being released as something of a thirty-year anniversary celebration of the original publication of Fugue Devil & Other Weird Horrors, my first fiction collection, which came out from Macabre Ink in 1992. That volume is long out of print, and almost impossible to find. I think I have a single personal copy tucked away in the vault.

Black Raven Books has been around for several years, the imprint of fantasy author Samaire Wynne. Black Raven has been anticipating releasing more books by other authors, and it is my pleasure to kick off the venture. Fugue Devil Resurgence will be available as a limited edition hardback, paperback, and ebook. Pre-ordering information should be available quite soon, probably in the next couple of weeks. Links will be posted here, there, and everywhere.

The Table of Contents:

• The Fugue Devil
• Threnody
• Night Crier
• Hell’s Hollow
• Masque of the Queen
• Somewhere My Love
• When Jarly Calls
• Messages From a Dark Deity
• Short Wave
• Escalation
• Pons Devana
• The Devil’s Eye

Stay tuned for updates, ordering information, and more.

Taco Time and Other Treatz

No, that's not a messy taco in the photo above, but my homemade spicy Thai ahi tuna. TacoTime is the name of a geocache (GC9JC1T) I picked up in Reidsville on my way to Martinsville last night. It was essentially a park & grab — one of those that you generally don't have to look for very long because it's pretty obvious. It was a pleasing enough cache, but like so many that are hidden near otherwise abandoned or deserted areas, somebody decides that they absolutely must sit in their freaking cars for extended spells right there near the cache. I think I'm going to start a website that features coordinates for non-existent caches and call it www.muggleswhositincarsalldayfornoapparentreason.com. Wonder if it'll get much traffic.

Once I got to Martinsville, I made a supply run at the nearby Food Lion, headed home, and cooked up the lovely Thai dish you see above. It was quite delicious — and definitely HOT!

Friend Samaire stopped by bearing a couple of goodies she had picked up in New Jersey from mutual friend and fellow writer, Patrick Freivald. First was a Concord grape pie, which is apparently a regional dish; I wasn't aware Concord grape pies existed. I'm glad they do because this sucker was delicious. I followed the baking directions, but I was afraid the crust came out a bit overdone. It was dark, but by gummy, the texture was perfect. So, Concord grape pie is a dandy dish I would love to sample again. Second was a bottle of hot maple syrup, from Patrick's label, Frog's Point Honey. I've had Patrick's hot honey before, and it's fantastic. So is the "Spicy, Eh?" maple syrup. I put it on pancakes this morning, and it had just the right amount of HOT for my palette (your mileage might vary). To try these sweet/hot treats out for yourself, visit www.frogspointhoney.com. I bet you'll be glad you did.

So, Friday evening was good for treats. Today, my brother's friend and estate executor, Jane, came for a visit to see some of Phred's old stomping grounds and cover a few points of business regarding the estate. It was a little sad, but we did have a good conversation; plus, I enjoyed taking her to a few nearby locations where my brother and I had spent much time together in our youths.

So, until next time, be good to yourselves and be good to others. Ciao!

The Concord grape pie, fresh out of the oven

Angel’s Envy, Turkey Day, Christmas Trees, and Cinderella

I don't always drink Angel’s Envy, but when I do, it’s
because some awesome friends are awesome.

For Ms. B. and me, the Thanksgiving weekend kicked off on Wednesday afternoon, as work let out at lunchtime. This worked out great for us because we had company — friends Stephen Provost & Samaire Wynne — coming over for drinks and dinner early in the evening. We ended up having a lovely visit, with Marco’s Pizza and some excellent Italian wine on the menu. To top things off, they brought over a bottle of Angel’s Envy bourbon, which turned out to be delightful. A fine spirit, it is, with silky undertones and a long finish that gets mellower and mellower. I loved it. And a thousand thanks to Stephen & Samaire. Awesome friends indeed!

On Thursday — Thanksgiving Day — morning, Brugger and I rose pretty early and headed out to Browns Summit, the headquarters of friends Tom (a.k.a. Skyhawk63) & Linda (a.k.a. Punkins19) for a geocaching breakfast event. Tom served homemade biscuits with lots of fixings, not to mention coffee aplenty. A decent-size crowd showed up, and that really got the day off to a perfect start.

From there, Ms. B. and I headed back home and started prepping the feast. I had gotten us a big ol’ turkey breast, which I seasoned and got cooking straightaway. We smashed some potatoes, cooked up some gravy, Brugger made a batch of savory mushroom & gruyere tarts, and we topped that off with large green salads. I was a little afeared I might have overcooked the dead bird when I checked the meat thermometer, but no... it was delicious and done just right — as was everything. As far as Thanksgiving Day dinners go, this one could hardly have been better (although, at the end of it, I was too full to partake of the cheesecake we had for afters; I’ll enjoy that later).

I had decided a while back, with Ms. B.’s blessing, that I would spend Thanksgiving night as well as some extra time at Pleasant Hill, the old homestead. So, after dinner settled a bit, I hit the road and headed first to Oak Ridge, just northwest of Greensboro, to snag a newish geocache. Upon giving the map a look, I noticed there was another cache over in Walnut Cove, a few miles farther northwest. So, I decided to go check that one out as well. I was pleased to see it was located at a graveyard, since graveyard caches are typically among my favorite. It turned out to be a fun cache indeed. That little side trip done, I continued on to Martinsville.

Many of my readers no doubt know that, against every conceivable expectation, I am the last of the family I grew up with. I lost my dad to complications from diabetes two decades ago. Last year, I lost my mom to COVID-19. Earlier this year, my younger brother passed away of leukemia. Now and again, these losses still overwhelm me. While my family was alive, Christmas was a momentous holiday. Mom always loved having a Christmas tree, and she collected a prodigious number of ornaments over her lifetime, most having some special significance. For those several years that she was debilitated with dementia, I kept that tree going up every Christmas. And now that she is gone... that they’re all gone... I treasure putting up the tree. So, on this night, at the house where I grew up... the place my mom loved most... I put up the tree and decorated it. An emotionally tough yet heartwarming undertaking.  I did this to honor my family that was. I imagine I will do this for as long as I physically can.

Kimberly and I will spend our holidays celebrating the family that is. My daughter, Allison, is remote, but close in heart, I know. So this is how I’m starting my Christmas season. It does hurt, but there is also a wonderful refuge in so many memories of perfect times — particularly during the holiday season — with my old family.

That done — and you can roll your eyes all you want to — for some reason, I felt drawn to put on the 1965 Rodgers & Hammerstein production of Cinderella, starring Lesley Ann Warren and Stuart Damon. I hadn’t seen it, or even really thought about it, since I was a kid. Something about last night’s onslaught of childhood memories, I suppose. Anyway, I went ahead and watched it on YouTube. Was it any good? Well, I dunno; it was pretty much Cinderella as we all know the story. Since I still have something of a soft spot for old musicals, I found a couple of the songs pretty good. A handful of lines made me crack a smile. So I guess you could say I enjoyed it. I am certain it is not going into the regular holiday video rotation.

This morning, I found breakfast at The Ground Floor, a relatively new coffee shop uptown, and then headed out on a geocache maintenance run, first to Philpott Dam, then to a couple around Martinsville. The hiking did me a world of good. On the way back, I grabbed a nice lunch at Hugo’s, also uptown. And this afternoon, now I’ve gotten this blog composed, I have a bunch of writing to do for upcoming projects. And thus I shall.

I’ll be back.

Philpott Dam

Worse Than Moving?

Current view of one corner of the living room. The whole house looks like this.

Well, I dunno if the seemingly endless prep for combining households is actually worse than picking up and moving a whole house, but it’s gotta be pretty near. Ms. B. and I have gone from minor upheaval during the initial do-it-yourself painting/refurbishing phase to all-out holy horror as we prepare to have both painters and flooring people come in to complete the interior overhaul of Casa de Rodan. Brugger and I have spent most of the week cleaning out every nook and cranny (with some most welcome assistance from friends Terry & Beth), dumping what we can and reorganizing — or at least attempting such — the things worth saving. Most of her belongings aren’t even here yet, so where we’re eventually going to fit everything is probably the biggest question of our lifetimes. And we still have a long way to go before this business is finished.

In the process of dismantling every neatly organized grouping of my personal belongings, I did find a number of things I had thought permanently lost, such as a cassette tape of my brother’s music and some artwork I did during and post college. I also discovered a couple of boxes full of copies of Deathrealm issues #20 and #23 — unopened — which I had no idea were even here. I thought all that stuff had been cleaned out long, long ago. Go figure. Anyhoo, I plan to keep a few extra copies of both, just for good measure, and probably recycle the rest.

Add to all this yet work on my brother’s house, which I managed to fit in this morning. I truly hope that place is now ready to sell and that it will move relatively quickly. While I was in Winston-Salem, I snagged a handful of geocaches this morning, which was the extent of the weekend’s caching. Friday night, Ms. B. and I did spend some quality time with authors/friends Stephen Provost and Samaire Wynne in Martinsville. Good company, foods, and drinks.

I hope I survive long enough to see all this in the can.

A newly discovered box full of copies of Deathrealm #23, circa 1994. Cover by the late, great Lew Hartman,
back cover by Ian McDowell

Some Week!

Today is Brugger’s birthday — which we celebrated at Fleming’s Steakhouse & Wine Bar this past week with friends Stephen and Samaire — and it kind of snuck up on me that it’s also Mother’s Day. Above, you see Mum holding Phred, guarded by a weird little cowpoke, circa 1964. Hard to believe that, of the family I grew up with, I am the last survivor. Never would I have believed such a thing. This week, I’ve reflected a lot on a sometimes tumultuous but essentially rich life. I miss my mom, my dad, and my brother more than words can ever express.

Although, overall, this week hardly seemed much out of the ordinary, it offered a number of unprecedented and/or unusual moments. We began the week with my birthday. Sixty-two great big ’uns, that’s how many of these particular days I have weathered. For my birthday, I bought myself a Godzilla figure — something I’ve done only once in the past four decades. It seemed the thing to do at the time. So, in the same spirit, for Brugger’s birthday, I bought myself a MechaGodzilla (Kiryu) figure. Lord knows, I can’t afford for this kind of thing to become a habit, but at least the MechaGodzilla was pretty much free, due to having all kinds of bonus points to spend at Amazon.com.

Early in the week, a young gray fox came around to visit. I have, on occasion, encountered foxes in the wild, but never one around these parts. It was a lovely critter to see, yet I fear it came over to my yard because the fuckers down the way are cutting down all the woods to make way for yet another goddamn superfluous subdivision. I’m so sick of these shitheads cutting down every inch of green space in this town I could fucking spit. It’s ugly, harmful, disgraceful. You might be forgiven for believing I hold strong opinions on this subject.

On a far more intriguing note, last night, Brugger and I spent a most enjoyable evening at the home of our friends (and geocaching buddies) Tom (a.k.a. Skyhawk63) and Linda (a.k.a. Punkins19). We did, believe it or not, partake of some wine, and our hosts provided a superb kabob dinner, followed by (fresh) strawberry shortcake and an intriguing dessert wine. We had kicked back to relax around their newly built firepit when Linda noticed an unknown phenomenon in the sky: a seemingly endless train of lights in the sky, moving at high speed directly above our heads. At first, we though perhaps it was the wreckage of the Chinese rocket that had been predicted to crash to earth last night; these objects, however, appeared far too uniform and perfectly spaced to be wreckage. And soon, we noticed a perpendicular stream of lights farther south. Brugger immediately took to Google, and we discovered this was almost certainly SpaceX’s StarLink satellite train. Now, I tend to keep up with most such technological developments, but I confess that this one had completely eluded my attention. None of us had any inkling about the existence of such a thing. I found it a bit disappointing that this was not the long-awaited Martian invasion, but then, the odds against anything coming from Mars are a million to one, as the quote goes. Unfortunately, the video I took provided only a black sky and a lot of slightly alcohol-slurred exclamations from the group of eyewitnesses. Similarly, my photos (example above) convey the spectacle only slightly. Regardless, it was an unexpected and, at the time, exciting experience for the lot of us.

Comparatively, it may be far more prosaic, but the house renovation continues to progress slowly but surely. Early in the week, we had the downstairs rooms measured for new flooring and the deck stained, the latter courtesy of Carlos’ Paint Company (the same folks who did a bang-up job on our living room). I’ve put in several evenings on various interior projects, and Brugger and I worked most of the day yesterday, she prepping the downstairs bathroom for painting, I painting doors and trim and putting up new blinds.

Now, I can only hope my houseful of giant monsters don’t get loose and undo the labor and expense Brugger and I have put into all this.

I barely managed to touch Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill, my Ameri-Scares novel-in-progress, but I hope to get more time in on it this week. There’s still a mess of estate business to deal with too, so we shall see what we shall see. And that, I reckon, is that.

Freshly painted doors in the living room

Downstairs bathroom, walls stripped of wallpaper, ceiling blessedly bereft of popcorn,
mirror removed (so now it looks really tiny in there) 

No Burial Without Permission & Others

Don’t do it.

Geocaching has led me to a number of signs like this over the years. They're kind of disappointing because, sometimes, you just need to dispose of someon—er, something—quickly.

The weekend was busy, productive, mostly enjoyable. Friday evening, Brugger and I went to Martinsville and had friends Stephen & Samaire over for dinner and drinks. Given the agreeably mild weather, we were able to socially distance ourselves on the front porch at Pleasant Hill. We picked up dinner from Third Bay Cafe, which was, as always, first-rate. Yesterday, upon our return to Greensboro (by way of Danville for a couple of geocaches), Ms. B. and I spent the better part of the day working on our kitchen renovation. Tiring, of course, but highly satisfying.

This morning, Mr. Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and I got together to check out the trails and a number of caches at the Spruce Pine Lodge, along Flat River, just north of Durham. The weather was perfectly splendid for hitting the woods — clear skies and temperatures in the high 50s/low 60s. Prior to coming out here for geocaching, I knew nothing of this lodge, which dates back to the 1940s. It is available for meetings, events, and gatherings of all sorts. The nature trails offer scenic views and easy hiking, although most of the caches ended up taking us pretty far off-trail.

We found some good ones this trip. We discovered one container in the hands of a hopelessly malnourished fellow; a couple of well-stocked ammo cans; and a couple of smaller caches up in trees. Sadly — for me, at least — these did not require climbing but specific tools of the geocaching trade.

Scott appears bemused by this chap suffering from extreme malnourishment.

My favorite cache of the day, “Waterfall Overlook” (GCQE55), took us out to some high ground above one of the rocky, rushing creeks that flow into Flat River. Outbound, we found a narrow stretch with plenty of stepping stones to facilitate our crossing. After claiming the cache, we returned by a different route, which put us high above the stream, at a wide, rocky, and far more treacherous point. However, being the spirited, foolish daredevils we (sometimes) are, rather than detour, we decided to soldier on. Not far downstream, we found a big fallen tree above the deepest, rockiest part of the creek, so one of us (raises hand) unilaterally decided to use it as a handy-dandy footbridge. As we soon discovered, the log had a wee wobble, but neither Scott nor I fell off of it. Well, I didn’t. And it wasn’t so much a fall as a slide, which culminated in a relatively small splash. Not very spectacular, Scott.

On our way home, we stopped for a handful of other caches, including one at a very old church graveyard, where we discovered the sign in the image at the top of the page. Graveyard caches almost always elicit a smile.

Just don’t bury any bodies there without permission. Don’t do it.

The Spruce Pine Lodge in Bahama, NC, just north of Durham

View of Flat River from the nature trail at Spruce Pine Lodge

Outdoor amphitheater near the nature trail

One of the scenic little waterfalls we discovered on our hike

Our makeshift bridge across the stream. So it was a little wobbly. Scott and I both survived, though one of us
might have ended up a bit wetter than the other.

First-to-Find in Goblintown

Yesterday after work, I headed up to Martinsville to deal with some pressing affairs following Mom’s passing. Nothing too taxing at this point, at least. And afterward, friends Stephen & Samaire Provost came over to have a few drinks and some stimulating discussion — everything from writing, publishing, memorable days from the past, and current events. We were very conscientious about social distancing — we sat outside on the front porch, about ten feet apart, each with our personal supplies of hand sanitizer. Stephen even wrote an excellent blog that grew out of the event — “What If We All Drove Drunk?” No, none of us drove drunk. And we didn’t behave carelessly, even after a few drinks.

This morning, I awoke to notification of a brand-new cache having been published — just up the road from Martinsville at Fairy Stone Park. The timing was propitious. Fairy Stone is one of my favorite places to hike and hunt caches, and the morning turned out to be just right for it. Well, except for the extraordinarily high humidity, which made me feel like I was breathing mayonnaise on the hike. It wasn’t too far (just under two miles round trip) or too rugged, but it made for some good morning exercise. And I got to see a section of trail I’d never been on before: the dam on Goblintown Creek, which is one of the tributaries of Philpott Lake, where Fairy Stone is located. There is a huge, carved granite Fairy Stone on the lake bank there, which can be seen from some distance. It makes for an unusual and striking landmark.

At ground zero, I struck gold quickly — a little too quickly, as the cache container was sitting out exposed and very close to the water’s edge. I think all our recent rain helped the cache migrate somewhat from its hiding place. I put it back so it will hopefully remain both in place and out of sight. I did, in fact, dirty up the pristine logbook with a most gratifying FTF (first-to-find) signature. First-to-finds don’t really mean much, as it’s not like you earn anything extra for the effort, but they’re fun enough to snag when I can get ’em.

A while back, writer/editor Holly Kozelski at The Martinsville Bulletin had reached out to me because she was putting together some stories about the personal impacts of COVID-19. She asked if I might contribute an editorial since Mom passed away due to complications from the virus. So, I performed some serious surgery on my blog entry titled “Wildfire” from some weeks ago and submitted it to her. The piece just came out in the Bulletin. (You can generally snag a freebie or two before they ask you to subscribe.) ’Tis here: “My Mother Is Gone...”

Together with Stephen’s blog linked above, the two form a pair of interesting companion pieces. Makes me think we might be onto something.

A lovely morning on the trail — except for trying to breathe in that freaking monstrous humidity.

Dark clouds over Goblintown. They didn’t hang around long.

A big honking fairy stone

The Terrible Old Man