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!

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