A Long, Deep River Day

Yesterday really was a long, long day. Ms. Brugger had a pre-ass-crack-of-dawn flight to Michigan, as her dad is having surgery, and she wants to be on hand to help out. Allison was here for the New Year's holiday, and I had a dentist appointment in Greensboro at 2:45 p.m., so we all got up at 3:30 a.m., hit the road at 4:15 a.m., and arrived at Piedmont Triad International Airport right at 5:00 a.m. We saw Ms. B. off, and then I headed after a couple of geocaches not far away, largely to kill some time until the nearby Carolina's Diner opened for breakfast at 6:00 a.m. We arrived at the diner just as they opened; enjoyed a delicious, cardiac-event-type breakfast, and then I took Allison home.

From there, I had several hours to kill before my dentist appointment. So, I booked it down to the Ramseur/Franklinville area, about 30 miles south of Greensboro, and hit the Deep River Trail, which I have hiked many a time over the past several years. There were several relatively new caches along the trail, so I spent several hours on the hunt, putting in almost seven miles before it was all said and done. The morning started out pretty fuckin' cold, but it did warm up a bit during the day. I ended up logging thirteen caches, which brings my total find count to 15,357.

I made it to my dentist appointment right on time, got some very clean teeth, and then hit the road back to Martinsville. Arrived home at 4:30 p.m.; had something for supper, I can't remember what; and decided to watch a movie before I crashed for the night. A short time back, I had found a pretty cool streaming channel on the Roku, the Essential SF Channel or something like that, and decided to check out The Beast of Hollow Mountain, which I hadn't seen since I was a teenager. I remember thinking back then that this was the most boring monster movie ever made, so I was curious if that ancient impression retained any merit.

The Beast of Hollow Mountain is, in fact, the most boring monster movie ever made.

I dunno what time I went to bed, but I crashed pretty damned hard. Ms. B. comes back next Friday, and it's a mid-evening flight.

If she's really, really sweet, she'll buy me dinner.

Haunted house up in the woods

The Deep River Trail meets US Hwy 64

Based on this and the "No Trespassing" signs, something tells me they don't want you to go this way.

Geocaching, a Big Woops! & Other Winter Solstice Adventures

Two winter celebrations occupied slots on yesterday's calendar: a late morning/early afternoon Winter Solstice geocaching event at the Red Robin restaurant in Greensboro, and a late afternoon/evening holiday party at friends Terry & Beth's place in Kernersville. With several hours between the two, a geocaching excursion along the Deep River, around Ramseur and Franklinville, about thirty miles south of Greensboro, looked like just the ticket, especially since several new caches had come out, courtesy of friend Fishdownthestairs (a.k.a. Natalie). Rather than drive separately straight to Kernersville in the afternoon, Ms. Brugger opted to accompany me to the geocaching event and then on the hike. Talk about momentous!

The event at Red Robin had a good crowd — about 20 folks, many of whom I'd not seen in a while. Friend Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) decided he'd meet us on the trail a bit later. Once done at the event, Ms. B. and I drove down to the Deep River Trail and commenced to hiking. Indeed, after a while, Diefenbaker arrived on the scene. The trail is gravel-surfaced and makes for a generally easy trek, though once you go off of it, the terrain can get pretty hairy. Between two legs of the trail, a stream joins the Deep River, and there's no actual crossing there — just an array of old pylons that present more of an impediment than an aid to getting from one side to the other. Scott and I found a partially exposed log near the pylons that allowed for a somewhat precarious crossing, but we made it without mishap. Ms. B. didn't care to follow in our footsteps, so she remained on higher ground on her side of the river.

However—uh-oh!—she took one step too far on the muddy bank and—whoosh!—down she went. Not all the way into the water, but pretty damned close. Worst of all, the bank was steep, the mud slipperier than ice. It took her a hell of an effort to get back to the top. And since this was an unexpected mishap, she had brought no spare clothes. Gracious! Fortunately, friend Beth, whom she immediately called, had plenty of clothing she was happy to offer on loan once we arrived.

On our return trek, Scott and I found a much dryer though potentially hazardous river crossing — a fallen tree about 15 above the water. We decided to brave it, and since I'm here to write this blog, as far as I can tell, we made it safely across.

On our return trip to the car, we ran into friend Tom (a.k.a. Night-Hawk), whom we'd seen at the Greensboro event, having trouble finding one of the caches. Happily, we were able to help him. Then Kim and I departed for Kernersville, where she was finally able to change into some cleaner, drier clothes.

The party was fun, with many friends, good eats, and some of the best wine I've enjoyed in ages. All in all, fine day indeed.

Caution! Winos present!

Old Places, Old Friends

“It’s in the trees! It’s coming!”

Good friends and geocaching partners, Gerry (a.k.a. BigG7777) & Bridget (a.k.a. Suntigres), late of nearby Kernersville, moved to Florida last year, which certainly made Brugger and me sad, at least for our sakes. I know Gerry & Bridget couldn’t be happier with their place down there, and that’s what matters. But since they recently came back to Kville for one of their regular visits, Ms. B. and I spent an enjoyable evening with them last night — at a respectable distance! — with delicious appetizers, pizza, and a few bottles of excellent wine. The night was pleasantly chilly, so we sat around their firepit enjoying the company and goodies until the old people — one of them, at least — began to fade a bit.

This morning, I hit the highway and met the mad Floridians at a lovely little cache where we found a much-needed helping hand. This one earned favorite points for creativity, gruesomeness, and humor. From there, we moved southward a bit through Randolph County, which has seen a veritable explosion of new caches in the past few months, largely courtesy of one labchic1. The majority of them are park & grab hides — meaning they are quick and easy enough to park, jump out, grab the cache, sign the log, and move on in short order. Happily, today, we found ourselves in any number of appealing settings, several of them old and haunted (my favorite kind, believe it or not), including a nice old graveyard. (Sadly, we failed to find the cache at the graveyard; it is likely missing.)

As for settings, I was most taken with the remains of a gas station, which likely went back 50 to 75 years; the crumbling skeleton of an old mansion (oddly, with a decomposing truck trailer parked in front of it); and an old plant of some sort right on the Deep River in Coleridge, where Bridget and I had once unsuccessfully hunted a cache placed by Nefarious Beast Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott). I once returned to that plant at Nefarious Beast Diefenbaker’s behest and replaced his missing cache. That replacement eventually went missing, and the cache was archived. So, today, I quite enjoyed returning to the location to hunt a new cache, which we did find, though it took quite a dedicated search.

Gerry and Bridget will be returning to Florida this coming week, so it was great beyond great to spend some quality time with them, which has been in too short supply since they moved. I so hope that in the coming year the pandemic will subside sufficiently to permit less distance between us when we are in close proximity. Given the positive results of this past week’s election, I feel there’s somewhat more reason to have hope on that front.

And so let us hope.

Bridget: “I’m telling you, I SAW a dreadful apparition.” Gerry: “That was just Mark.”

Rest rooms are in the back.

Haunted

I expect the trailer is haunted too.

One of us, at least, is very happy.

Old Farts Amid the Ruins

This morning, the four original Old Farts — Robgso (a.k.a. Rob), Rtmlee (a.k.a. Yoda Rob), Diefenbaker (a.k.a Scott), and yours truly (Old Rodan) — after way too long a break from each other, hit the geocaching trail, specifically the Deep River Trail in Randleman. The young woman known as The Notorious FishDownTheStair (a.k.a. Natalie) had recently put out a half-dozen new geocaches on the trail, so we took what has become too rare an opportunity to get together and go after them. I had hiked after caches on the Deep River Trail any number of times in the past, but apparently only on a limited stretch of it, for we went farther on it today than I had gone previously, and oh, this was a treat. Much of the trail is relatively level and surfaced with gravel, but the eastern end becomes rugged and at times treacherous, with lots of rocks, near-vertical climbs, sheer-drop-offs, and veritable jungles of poison ivy. That is the fun part.

Old Farts emerging from a tunnel-like passage through
the rock. Their expressions say it all.

For at least some of us, the day's highlight was the first cache we went after — GC7Q5X7 (premium members only link), "Deep River Ruins" — where we discovered the remains of an extensive factory and what might have been a water filtration plant. There are crumbling brick and stone structures; a towering smokestack; a small retention pond; several portals to the Pit of Shoggoths; and, most peculiar of all, a brand-spanking-new electric meter attached to the facade of the crumbling main building. To the delight of all, we spent about as much time exploring the ruins as we did hiking on the mile-plus trail. The cache here proved challenging, but we managed to turn it up after a pretty good hunt. Old Rob took the honors for the find, so he was off the hook as far as finding a cache went. (We had named ourselves Team No Dead Weight, on the idea that each of us would find at least one of the caches on our route today, but as it turned out, we might have carried some dead weight with us today. I won't divulge who that was, except that name starts with Yoda and ends with Rob.)

Up we go!

We did find all six of the caches on our planned route, and we had fun with the high-rated terrain along the way. None of us fell and busted his ass, although at times things looked a little iffy in that regard, given how how plain klutzy some of us actually are. For afters, we had lunch at Compadres in Randleman, which is one of our longtime favorite cantinas.

May the Old Farts not have to keep having these long spells of being unable to coordinate a get-together!

Sadly, this afternoon, Ms. Brugger, along with our friends the Albaneses and the Nelsons, attended a memorial service for Kevin Houck, who had been an honorary member of our supper club for a couple of years, and who passed away on May 21, 2018. He was way too young — only 32 years old — but he did have a host of health problems that almost certainly contributed to his death. None of us knew him that well, but he was an intelligent and engaging young man whom we will miss. Adios, young Kevin.

Until another time.

The facade to the Pit of Shoggoths, with its mysterious brand-new electric meter

Looking down into the Pit of Shoggoths. I'm pretty sure I heard some blood-curdling
screams echoing out of the depths.

Old Rodan amid the ruins. Note the admonition to "Drop bodies here."

Faith Rock

An almost uncannily warm January day, so I spent the early part of it geocaching in Franklinville, a little community about 25 miles south of here, in Randolph County. It used to be a thriving textile town; not much left of it now, though the remnants of the impressive old cotton mill still stand on the banks of the Deep River. The trail along the river is quite scenic and takes you to Faith Rock, a spectacular bluestone wall that towers over the river along its southern banks. The plaque at the left is hard to read (it's from 1928 itself), but it tells of an incident in 1781, in which local resident Andrew Hunter ran afoul of the notorious Tory leader David Fanning. Facing execution, Hunter stole Fanning's prized mare, Red Doe, and made his escape by plunging down Faith Rock into the river.

Once you've seen Faith Rock up close, you understand what a feat that had to have been—even allowing for some embellishment of Revolutionary War history. I mostly clambered around the top portion of the outcropping as I was making my way toward "Don't Fall in the River—The Revenge" (GC19H1Z), and had I taken a bad step, I could have shed a lot of skin skidding down the slope.

Also along the river, a bit farther east, one may find the remains of at least one fishing weir built by Native Americans, possibly as early as the 17th century. Weirs were v-shaped rock dams used for trapping fish. Alas, today, the water level was too high for much of the weir near the spot where I was caching to be visible.

Once again, caching has brought me to a neat, historical corner of the map I otherwise never would have seen. Always nice.

This evening, a gathering of strange friends at Casa de Damned Rodan. I'm cooking chili, and so far, there's every indication it'll turn out deadly. Perhaps I'll post the recipe. I even cleaned the house, but I must confess, the tenacity of filth is my most hated thing on earth. No, I didn't actually put any filth in the chili. Not yet, anyway.

Notes on the history of the Deep River may be found here.

Click on photos to enlarge.

Looking down at the river from Faith Rock

Across the river from Faith Rock

Picnic tables for trolls?

View of the old cotton mill from the footbridge across the river

Black Sunday

Yeah, Black Sunday. It's back to work tomorrow, and after such a fine—and way too short—long weekend. Today, it was out on the caching trail again with Bridget "Suntigres" Langley and Lonnie "Moncure Bee Dude" Drain. Picked up 19 today, doing everything from park & grabs to terrain & grabs, my favorite being "Tadabailey's Revenge" (GC14AWB), which resides out in the middle of the Deep River, requiring negotiating a narrow rock dam out from the riverbank. In the pic at left, you see a couple of old men digging in the rocks for geotreasure. In the end, we prevailed, and neither of us went splash. Evidently, Alfred Hitchcock's ghost took an interest in our activities, as you may note in the photo below. We determined at "A Deep, Peaceful View" (GC30WGB) that some of us are completely unskilled at mathematics, while others have difficulty with the language arts: a comedy of errors turning what should have been a simple multi-stage cache into a brief trek to nowhere....

The other favorite I found on my way home—"Buckarilla, the Bridge Troll" (GC380PV), a fairly new one in the Forest Oaks area, which is exactly what the title implies. A cool hide, lurking in the darkness beneath a bridge on Woody Lane.

Today's total leaves me 46 caches shy of 4,000. An apt number as I soon go into my fourth year of geocaching. It is to smile.

Photos by Bridget Langley.

Found the little rascal!

Alfred Hitchcock's ghost is alive and well....