R.I.P. Bridget Colleen Langley-Broadwell, a.k.a. Suntigres

It is with the greatest sadness I bid farewell to my longtime friend and geocaching partner, Bridget Langley-Broadwell, known in caching circles as Suntigres. She and I met at a geocaching event back in 2011, and before long, we were caching together, oftentimes with numerous other geocachers in a regular group. Bridget and my wife, Kimberly, got to be good friends as well, so we frequently got together for dinners and even non-geocaching outings (heavens, I know). Bridget met her husband-to-be, Gerry Broadwell, in late 2016, I believe it was, and he became part of our regular geocaching crowd. In March 2019, when they got married at Gerry's place in Kernersville, NC, they invited me to officiate their "almost" official wedding, which was a true honor for me.

Almost from the day I met her, Bridget suffered issues with her lungs, which grew progressively worse over time, until she reached the point that geocaching or other rigorous physical exercise became impossible. She had been hoping and waiting for a lung transplant for a long spell before an appropriate donor became available. Unfortunately, by that time, it was too late.

Bridget passed away on April 6, 2024, after an unsuccessful attempt at lung transplant surgery.

It's doubly hard to say goodbye since the geocaching community also lost good friend Rob "Robgso" Isenhour only a few months ago to lung cancer. Today, I send Gerry all my condolences during such a difficult time, and I pray all his memories of Bridget are the happiest of his life. R.I.P. Suntigres.

Memories of Bridget from other friends and family may be found at Dignity Memorial, here.

Signing My John Hancock

Team 2-1/2 Men: BigG7777, Suntigres, Old Rodan

Just about every year since I began geocaching (2008), on or about the July 4th holiday, it has been a personal tradition—nay, a personal requirement—to celebrate my freedom to scrawl my John Hancock on the log sheets of as many hidden little containers as a satellite signal will guide me to. Today was no exception, with an entertaining venture into the forgotten wilds (i.e., at least ten miles from the nearest wine bar) of Forsyth and Davidson Counties, with caching partners Bridget (Suntigres) and Gerry (BigG7777). Most caching outings are fun; this one was memorable. Mainly, today I found cache #9,500, which means I have a mere 500 to go before the big 10K. Later this year, perhaps...?

One of our first targets was a cache that has daunted me for years, titled "Green Series Cache: Not a Purple FOB" (GC2TDF5). It was hidden in 2011, and not long after its publication, I had attempted to find it, but without success. The location is something else: a dense thicket near a megachurch that attracts thousands to its services (I know—I've been there on Sundays thinking to hunt the cache, but the sheer number of Christian soldiers marching about the location have dissuaded me). Today, however, apart from someone who appeared to be learning to drive around the church parking lot, no one else was present and we were able to make our way to Ground Zero without having to avoid countless, devastating barrages of humanity. Inside the thicket, which can only be entered by hacking one's way through tangled curtains of poison ivy, sheer walls of briers and brambles, and a veritable moat of quicksand, one will find a decaying tobacco barn—roofless, tottering, and home to lord knows what varieties of critters. How I missed finding the cache on that long-ago attempt is a mystery, for today, once having braved the thicket and entered the old structure, locating the container proved relatively simple. Signing that log was a most satisfying accomplishment after a long and rather trying spell on the home front (don't ask).

The old tobacco barn, completely hidden from view outside the dense thicket

From the perspective of someone who has found 9,500 geocaches, I'd say it's rare to come upon cache logs containing anything other than the signatures (and occasionally a few personal observations) of past finders. Today, we found a couple that were hardly positive in nature but that provided a few chuckles. One cache, which resided at the base of a light pole in a busy parking lot, contained a log with an entry that read, "You Are All faggots Get A Job!," obviously inscribed by a non-geocacher, a.k.a. muggle, who had happened upon the hide. At least this semi-literate soul had the decency to use the cache log as a medium to communicate his deepest thoughts rather than simply make off with the container, which is the far more common behavior among muggles.

At another cache, which was unwisely hidden at the base of a stop sign located at the corner of someone's front yard, we found in lieu of a logsheet a note from an unhappy property owner advising the hider of the "game piece" to contact George at a certain address and/or phone number because he was interested in having a "chat." We did find this amusing in its way, but we also recommended that the container be removed and the geocache listing be archived. However unsporting, the property owner was clearly within his rights to take issue with the placement of a container of which he didn't approve on his land. Cache hiders take note!

And then there's the throw-down—the replacement of a presumably missing cache by a hunter, whether with or without the permission of the original cache owner. Throw-downs are frowned upon by most in the geocaching community, although there are some cache owners who will give occasional permission (sometimes even giving blanket permission) to replace containers that are obviously missing. I have, on occasion, replaced containers if I have checked with the cache owner (or know in advance the owner will approve), but it is bad personal policy to replace containers willy-nilly just because you can't find them. The local geocaching community does have its chronic offenders in this regard, and we did come upon a blatant example of their handiwork today when we found what was clearly a throw-down, only to find the original container shortly thereafter. True, this is a small thing in life's bigger picture, but this same behavior has caused some real-world strife between a number of individuals I know, and a simple focus on personal integrity whilst in the field would almost certainly alleviate the issue altogether.

Anyhoo, all this made for a day of intriguing geocaching, and at this particular time of life, that kind of intrigue is just my speed.

L: the throw-down; R: the original hide

Because there was also cache there, we took our lunch break at a nearby Dairi-O, a local franchise that specializes in super-delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken wings, ice cream, and such—including some of the most addictive french fries I've ever tasted. Not even a little bit healthy, of course, but if nothing else, I burned off a fair number of calories and sweated off some water weight in near-hundred degree temperatures today. So yeah, this Fourth of July fit comfortably into Old Rodan's grand personal tradition. May there be many more.

In the sun, my car's thermometer read over 100 degrees; in the shade, it was scarcely less. No like! NO LIKE!

Fears, Defibrillators, and Wankpuffins

Suntigres faces her fear. The lurking horror
behind the camera, perhaps?

For the old man and Suntigres (a.k.a. Bridget), the geocaching trail led us to numerous destinations in and around Raleigh on this gorgeous February Saturday. She needed to pick up several items from her son, who lives over that way; the Hibernian Irish Pub in downtown Raleigh was beckoning her like gold at the end of the rainbow; and the caching bug was biting with nasty great pointed teeth, so she ordered me along to navigate any unruly or otherwise challenging terrain we might chance to encounter. In the end, terrain challenges proved minor and relatively rare, but we did turn up several unique and exceedingly well-done hides. We started with a couple of caches in a series called "Face Your Fears," and face them we did, though we did not, in at least one particularly frustrating case, succeed in finding the frightening little bugger. We solved a couple of brain-challenging puzzles, discovered a comically macabre diorama underneath a lamp post skirt, and lost our marbles at a couple of expertly crafted cache containers courtesy of Motrin Man (a.k.a. Fred) and Blinky7 (a.k.a. Cindy). In one instance, what appeared to be a standard lamp post hide proved to be a bit of a shocker, damn near requiring a defibrillator at the end of it all. It wasn't a monster haul today — I think I logged 18 total — but after several difficult weeks, it was damn nice to get outdoors and get my moniker on a few new logs. Not to mention some kick-ass chicken wings at Hibernian.

A good day.

And on a completely unrelated note, I saw today, in reference to Donald Trump, the word "wankpuffin." A fine word this, a good woody-sounding word, not at all tinny. I quite like it.

Best light-pole cache I've ever found.

Old man needs defibrillator after being shocked by sneaky, springy, snaky thing.

When the Stars Came to Town and Others

Suntigres on location

Over the past few decades, quite a few movies have been made here in North Carolina's Piedmont region — several being of the spooky persuasion — including the upcoming The Disappointments Room, starring Kate Beckinsale, Gerald McRaney, Michaela Conlin, and Lucas Til, directed by D. J. Caruso (Disturbia), and written by Caruso and Wentworth Miller (Stoker, Prison Break). Other titles include Hellraiser III, Children of the Corn II, and The Killers Three. The thriving film industry has been a boon for the state's coffers, countless businesses, and numerous otherwise economically depressed communities, but — most unfortunately — our current legislature, which is composed of some of the densest boneheads this planet has seen since the days of the Pachycephalosaurus, has opted to kill the tax incentive programs that brought so many productions out our way. My contempt for these vile cretins hardly stems from this issue alone, but thank your lucky stars, I have other reasons for writing this blog today. I'm writing because — you guessed it — a nice little series of geocaches recently came out that commemorates some of the eclectic cinematic treasures that have come out of the North Carolina's Piedmont, and today was the perfect day to go after them, and quite a few others, with my frequent caching partner, Ms. Suntigres (a.k.a. Bridget).

There are three caches placed around the little town of Ramseur, located along the Deep River River in Randolph County, where scenes from The Disappointments Room, Children of the Corn II, and The Killers Three were filmed, each cache bearing the name of one of those films and containing specific information that lead to a final cache called "When the Stars Came to Town" (GC5NZ2X). I've never seen The Killers Three, and I don't think I've ever seen Children of the Corn II, but you can bet I am now inclined to check out both of them — as well as The Disappointments Room when it comes out in September. Ramseur is a picturesque, tiny community that has retained most of the finest — and, unfortunately, some of the worst — aspects of mid-20th-century southern America, a situation too often brought on by prolonged economic hardship. However, The Disappointments Room promises to showcase the community's most atmospheric and character-laden side, which I have been fortunate enough to experience first-hand during my years of geocaching. It was a true pleasure to return there today and complete the "When the Stars Came to Town" series, which was put together by the classy and altogether mysterious lady known as "Sull427."

Our run through Randolph County today proved a good one in all respects, not only because of the "Stars" series — which was, in fact, the highlight of the day — but because we found a wealth of high-quality caches without a single DNF (Did Not Find) log, including a particular hide that took me into one of my favorite geocaching locations: the deep, dark pits of hell that run underneath the daylight world that most of you probably prefer. Throw in a fabulous Mexican lunch and, at the end of the day, drinks at a nice little place called The Smokehouse Bistro in Liberty. To me, this is pretty much what geocaching is all about.

See you at the movies.

Something's...coming....

Oh... It's just that dude.

Suntigres's screen test?

Caching Up

The ol' caching bug has bitten again—and hard—since the weather has been quite conducive to hiking the past few days. Did a five-miler yesterday on the Lake Townsend trail, just north of Greensboro, accompanied by my friend Bridget (a.k.a. Suntigres). I didn't have exact coordinates for one of the caches, but the clue on the Web site and the proximity of two nearby caches left only a small area in which it could be located; happily, I was signing the logbook in short order.

Saturday, it was another mini-monster fest, with Mssrs. Bill Mann and Wayne Miller on hand for Monsters vs. Aliens, which was an unexpected hoot; Destroy All Monsters; King Kong Escapes; and a couple of episodes of Ultraman.

Big deal, so I have to geek out now and again. And I will do it again.

On a bittersweet note, yesterday was the ninth anniversary of my dad's death. Fortunately, these days, I'm better able to remember more of the good times than that last agonizing year before he passed away. I see an awful lot of him in me, especially as I've gotten older—both the good and the bad. The fact there was so much more good than bad in him gives me at least a little hope....

Onward.