A Helluva Weekend

Given the dearth of nearby geocaches I've yet to find, it's always a treat to see new ones published that aren't that far away. A trio of new caches popped up on my map Friday — out in Floyd County, about an hour northwest of here. Since I couldn't get out there at the time, I got up early on Saturday morning, grabbed coffee and a danish at the nearby Valero Fas-Mart (their coffee does rock), and sallied forth onto the shadowy backroads. Long ago (the 1970s) and far away (about 20 miles), I attended Ferrum College, and I frequented these backroads, usually seeking the influence of what some might consider illicit substances. There was a commune called Travianas in this area that I used to visit frequently, and I read not all that long ago was still in existence. I don't remember exactly how we used to get there, but I was pretty close to the location, though.

My destination was a place called Riverstone Farm, a gorgeous place in the middle of nowhere, more or less, with a little store where you can buy their fresh produce, and it's all on the honor system. You weigh your produce, fill out your own sales slip, and drop your money in a slot. I picked up a couple of fabulous fresh tomatoes, which weighed over a pound, for $5. And I got first-to-find honors on all three of the new caches, each of which was nicely done. I so appreciate geocaches that lead me to such splendid locations that I would surely never have discovered otherwise.

On my way home, I stopped for lunch at the Railway Café in Bassett. A delicious fried chicken sandwich and a much-needed cold iced tea. Damn, it was hot out there.

The Riverstone Farm produce store

Trail along the Little River

A purty trail view

Last night, we saw the news of Donald Trump getting winged by a shooter. I've seen all sorts of conspiracy theories, lots of anger, and all too much true hate, enough to be totally overwhelming. I have a lot of things I can say on this issue, but not here and now. A bit later, I will.

This morning, again I rose early, grabbed coffee and a danish at the nearby Valero Fas-Mart, and hauled myself down to Burlington, NC, where I met friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) for a day of caching in Hillsborough. As it has been lately, it was hot out there. Fuckin' hot. We both added quite a few to our total number of finds, including a bunch along the Eno Riverwalk. Another gorgeous location I enjoy visiting, and — as we usually do when in the area — we grabbed lunch at Hillsborough BBQ Company. Smoked chicken wings for me today, and damned good.

My favorite find of the day was probably the very photogenic black rat snake we ran across at Blackwood Farm Park.

I've no idea what level of madness our country and the world will reach this week, but I've no doubt it'll set a new fucking record.

A nice black rat snake we happened upon

Train trestle over the Eno River, viewed from the Riverwalk

Another view of the Eno

Extending the Dick & Willie

I shit you not, the Dick & Willie has gotten longer. Yes, about two decades ago, the old Danville & Western rail line — commonly known as the "Dick & Willie Line" — closed down, and the tracks through a fair portion of Martinsville were converted to the Dick & Willie Rail Trail. For several years, we had a continuous 4.5-mile section of trail completed, but three or four years ago, a new, 2.5-mile section opened up at the eastern end of town, terminating at the Smith River Sports Center on Spruce Street. That has left approximately four miles of trail to be completed, thus connecting the two ends. As of just a few weeks ago, a new, 2-mile leg along Mulberry Creek opened up, which Ms. B. and I hiked out today, and it is by far the most scenic, relatively isolated part of the trail. Eventually, it is slated to extend even farther from the current northwestern terminus at Commonwealth Boulevard & Virginia Avenue and connect with the Fieldale-Smith River Trail, a few miles to the northeast.

It goes without saying that I have already populated with local trails with numerous geocaches, but the new D & W extension certainly begs for several more. I plan to oblige, more likely sooner than later. As it is, I discovered today that I need to perform maintenance on a couple of my older caches out there, so that will be my next geocaching priority.

We encountered several folks today riding e-bikes on the trail, and the lure to avail ourselves to such devices is strong. Perhaps once Ms. B. is again gainfully employed, we'll set us ourselves up with a couple.

For now, hike on!

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.

Run to the Outback

I gave it a good run... literally.

I am so not a running man. Now, in my search for geocaches, I happily hike miles upon miles at a time, climb and swing from trees like a monkey, and creepily creep through tight subterranean passages. But running.... nope. That's right out. Back in the 80s and 90s, I often ran for exercise. It was boring. Horribly, horrendously, mind-numbingly boring. Not my thing.

Well, usually. Anyway, there's this cache out there: Ranger Fox's "Run to the Outback" (GC27934), which is a Wherigo cache. A Wherigo is a variation on the normal geocache in that it requires an app whose features are activated by proximity to designated coordinates. A Wherigo cache may take you on an adventure where, at each stage, you have to answer certain questions in order to proceed, or enter what you see around you and eventually advance to the actual geocache. "Run to the Outback" requires the intrepid geocacher to haul ass out Greensboro's most rugged trail — the Owl's Roost — and arrive at each stage along the 2.2-mile path to the cache within a prescribed time period. If you fail, you must start the preceding stage over again.

Well, in theory.

"Run to the Outback" has been in the wild for damn near ten years — since April 21, 2010. As hard as it is for me to ignore a geocache (hunting them has become a pathological need), I have deliberately ignored this one because the requirement to find it struck me as more excruciating than exhilarating. However, today I was feeling a little fidgety, so I decided to try trucking out to this aging hide. Things actually started out swimmingly. I made good progress and cleared the first five (of eight) stages with time to spare. It was when I got to stage six that things went south.

I reached the designated marker in plenty of time, but the Wherigo app would not advance to the next stage. I returned to stage five to try again, mais alas, no joy. Needless to say, there was no way in heaven or hell I was going to go back and start the whole business over again. However, certain of my geocaching friends (who keep fastidious cache notes) had found this one way back when, so rather than give up after this much effort, I broke down and made the holler for help. Thankfully, I was able to acquire the info I needed to reach the final stage.

Better days, this one has seen.

At ground zero, I found the perfect host but, at first, there was no sign of the container. Rather than give up, I started digging in the mud and... bravo!... at last struck paydirt. The container was buried under about six inches of muck. The lid was cracked, the container full of water. Yuck. I did manage to get my signature on the soggy log. I cleaned things up a bit, but I couldn't do anything about the cracked lid.

Mission accomplished, albeit in roundabout fashion. Wherigo routines falling down and going boom are apparently commonplace, and looking back at many of the past logs, I am far from the only one to encounter such difficulties on this cache. Right now, my feet are on fire and my legs feel as though they've been twisted in several directions at once. But for all that, I got my little smiley for the find, and the workout was worth it.

And now... there is wine. Wine is good. Wine is our friend.

Extending the Dick & Willie

Sure, it's an amusing nickname: "Dick & Willie" refers to the old Danville and Western railway that used to run through Martinsville. The tracks were taken up several years ago, and now the Dick & Willie Rail Trail uses those old rail beds to traverse Martinsville, VA. Since 2008, the trail has run about four and a half miles, from Commonwealth Blvd. at the northwest end to a point just north of Spruce St., east of town. After many months of work, a new, two-and-a-half-mile trail extension leads to the Smith River Sports Complex, at Martinsville's easternmost corner. This puts the trail very close to my old neighborhood, and since I'm at the homeplace frequently, I went out yesterday to properly inaugurate the trail extension with several geocaches.

I put out four yesterday, all on the leg that runs from the end of Country Club Drive (the stories I have from that place!) to the sports complex. One ammo can (Country Club View); a medium-size Tupperware container (Dick & Willie Rocks); a small, camouflaged jar (Dick & Willie: The Hole Thing); and a wee little bison tube (Dameron's Disaster). They're out there, already published at geocaching.com, and all found exactly once so far — by fellow geocacher tbbiker (a.k.a. Todd). I hope these caches, and other new ones yet to come out, will entice lots of geocachers in the area to pay Martinsville a visit.

I did manage to cut my finger pretty good while placing one of the containers. Just call me Captain Klutz.

As a youngster, I spent a fair amount of time back in those woods behind Country Club Drive. In my teens, several friends and I would on occasion go camping there (and possibly drinking things other than water from the Smith River). At one time, a sewer line and utility road went back where the trail now leads. Although one wasn't supposed to, one could, if so minded, drive a car back down into the woods and cross a very narrow, earthen bridge over one of the creeks. When I say narrow, I'm talking a couple of inches clearance on either side. I think it was during my first year of college that friends (whom, for the purposes of this account, I shall call Johannes, Ramon, and Keebler) and I all drove back there to camp out overnight. When we saw that little land bridge, we had our doubts about proceeding any further. But Johannes resolved to drive across that treacherous space in his powder blue Ford Maverick. And he up and did it — successfully. Whew! So I figured that if Johannes could do it in a Maverick, I could do it in my little mustard yellow Toyota Corolla. Well, yes, I did it, with Ramon in the car with me. It was hairy, to be sure. Then it was Keebler's turn. He came roaring down the hill, hit the bridge, and... woops! BOOM! His little green whatever-it-was slid and toppled partway over the edge. What a disaster! Now, he was fine, and I don't think the car suffered too much damage... but it did require a tow truck to pull that vehicle out of there. I sure hate to think of the aftermath for poor Keebler. It couldn't have been pretty.

Anyway, there is now a geocache out there, at that exact location, commemorating the event.