Cachin’ Away the Clusterfuck

Sure enough, 2020 has been pretty much a clusterfuck since it began, and it’s most assuredly not going to miraculously turn around anytime soon. Now that Mom has passed away, I am engaged in the long, uphill battle to get estate affairs squared away, which promises to be grueling. As yet, I haven’t even gotten the death certificate(s), as I understand things are running way behind due to so many people dying of COVID-19 in NC, plus the ongoing issues with the postal service. Sometimes, I reckon it’s enough to make the Pope say “goddamn.”

A rushing little waterfall near
“Old Men Can Be Devious”

Still, through it all, there have been a good many shining moments, mostly involving geocaching, which—more than any other personal activity—pulls me out of the shitter, at least during the time I’m hard at it. Early during the pandemic, a wealth of new caches came out locally, which offered numerous opportunities for getting out in the woods and hiking. There haven’t been quite as many of those in recent days, but at least there are still some around to get me out of the house and active. A couple of times recently, including yesterday, I headed down to Randolph County, where a bunch of mostly park & grab caches have come out. Car caches aren’t as invigorating as hiking caches, but, regardless, they offer their share of fun, and a fair number of them have taken me to unique and memorable settings.

Today, I joined up with the Socially Distanced No-Dead-Weight Irregulars—friend Natalie (a.k.a. Fishdownthestair) and friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) to hunt up a new one placed by our devious friend and frequent geocaching partner Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob). In fact, Old Devious his own self came out to watch us stumble about on the hunt. This cache—called “Old Men Can Be Devious” (GC8W9F1)—lurks in one of Old Rob’s favorite geocache hiding spots, namely a brier patch. And what a brier patch it is. A regular laughing place, in fact. As Rob says, “No blood, no fun.” Finding the cache took no little effort, but based on the amount of blood I shed, it was a helluva lot of fun.

No blood, no fun. Geocaching, Old Rob style.

There was, of all things, an earthquake this morning. 5.1 on the Richter scale, if I’m not mistaken, the epicenter out near Sparta, in the mountains of western NC. Everyone in Greensboro seemed to feel it except me, even though I was awake at 8:07 AM, when it occurred. Now, a lot of folks indicated that their houses shook and their animals paid the event special mind. Me, I was apparently so involved in a discussion with Frazier and Droolie about why there is/is not a Great Starvation that it passed unnoticed. Kind of a bummer.

Lots of water in the woods after tons of recent rain

The old post office in Cedar Falls, Randolph County, site of one of the new caches

Neat little waterfall in Randolph County

What's That Glow?

"Mushroom Cloud." "Nuclear Fun." "Rad (a.k.a. Glow in the Dark)." "What's That Glow?" These are just a few of the names of the geocaches in Harris Lake County Park in New Hill, NC. It's the biggest park in Wake County and quite beautiful, with numerous hiking and biking trails, disc golf, picnic areas, camping, and boating. Not to mention the Shearon Harris Nuclear Power Plant just across the lake.

I'm all for the responsible development of nuclear power (which means I have serious reservations about it). There's no mistaking its dangers, of which you're clearly reminded by the profusion of "Evacuation Route" signs in the area. It's particularly disconcerting when you think about the deadly events at the Fukushima plant in Japan—and the fact that, last August, we had a magnitude 5.8 quake, with the epicenter just up the road a piece in Virginia.

Yesterday, which was unseasonably warm, Bridget "Suntigres" Langley and I spent the better part of the day hiking and caching around Harris Park. The trails led us to a few interesting destinations, such as the remains of an ancient graveyard (home to numerous undead nuclear families, no doubt), and the remnants of the Womble family house, which dates back to 1803. We also found a pair of nice little snakes and some less-innocuous man-eating vines, which nearly spelled the end for Bridget. She came out all right in the end, but it required a valiant struggle.

After all that, Brugger and I hauled ourselves to Zen Sushi for a fabulous dinner, and then we gathered with several folks for a ghost tour of downtown Greensboro, run by Carolina History and Haunts, for which we had a Groupon. It was fun and all, though we didn't see any ghosts. Zombies, yes; ghosts, no. Finally, we decided to try out the bar at Bin 33 for a nightcap, which proved enjoyable.

Writing-wise, not a bad week. Two stories accepted for a couple of anthologies. Details later on.

Click on pics to enlarge.

If I were to say something like "Bridget needs to lose weight," you probably
wouldn't be hearing from me again.


Out on the Peninsula Trail.


Wombles wobble, but they don't fall down. Or do they?
The foundations date back to 1803.


Old dude feeling a little dead, or a zombie-to-be.


These happy little folks were playing near one of the caches. They're out mighty early;
hope they don't freeze as the weather turns cold again.


The more I look at this, the more I think, "This is the wolf spider of trees."


O noze! The vines haz Bridget! Is OK, though, I vanquish them.


Or maybe not so OK. Alas.