GeoWoodstack II

GeoWoodstack II was a nice little social event around a wee campfire out at geocacher Tom "Night-Hawk" Kidd's place in Oak Ridge, a little way up the road from here. Despite enough drizzle to make things uncomfortable for a while, lots of geocachers attended, all providing a variety of food and drink along with the good company. Thankfully, after a while, the weather became less volatile — at least until we hit the road to make our way home.

Night-Hawk has been building the tower of wood for the fire for many moons, and when that sucker started burning, people in seven states probably knew it. His daughter Kristina, a pro musician and singer from Nashville, sang and played a number of her original songs — and nearly got electrocuted by her own sound equipment, no doubt due to the rain — and then... blammo... ye old man and Ms. B. took the stage. Happily for us, by the time we began our set, all errant electrical charges seemed to have dissipated. There were a few unrelated issues with microphone feedback, but once those were resolved, the little show went fairly swimmingly. I opened things with my original, "Scan in Progress" (see yesterday's blog and video), and Ms. B. joined me on vocals for "Bury My Lovely" (October Project), "Man in the Rain" (Mike Oldfield), and "Don't Fear the Reaper" (Blue Oyster Cult). That was going to be the end of it, but I was pressed into playing an encore ("Leslie Anne Levine," The Decemberists) by some members of the audience who are apparently more tone-deaf than I am.

Most of the caching events I have attended over the years have been enjoyable, but this one rates among the mother's finest of them, as much as anything because we had the additional pleasure of making noise without getting pelted by fruit or other foodstuffs (there were plenty of projectiles to choose from, I can assure you).

About the time we headed out, the sky opened up again, so a Man in the Rain I was.

Click 'em to enlarge 'em.

Night-hawk's friendly Llama, Joe

Release the Kraken! Er... the balloon.

A nice photo of Damned Rodan and Ms. B., taken by Christopher Hall

A Great Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth

The weeping and gnashing of teeth... that could be your lot if you watch this sucker all the way through. Old man has been banging on the noisemaker a lot the past few days, so decided to share a little of the pain. "Scan in Progress," words and music by me, ©1983.

Can't Get There From Here

Philomath is where I'll go....

If you were — or are — a fan of REM from the 1980s you'll understand that reference. This is actually a completely random smart phone story, inspired by our HR folks at work, who posed the question "What makes your smart phone not so smart?" on the bulletin board in the kitchen. (They periodically post entertaining questions like this at the office, and the answers can be amusing.) If you own a smart phone, I daresay you have almost certainly had the same or similar experience.

I get out on the road pretty frequently, especially to go geocaching, so I tend to rely on my phone's maps to get me to my destination. I only occasionally use the turn-by-turn navigation feature, though, because it's been known to give me the business. Witness the following account:

Ms. B. and I are heading to a wine bar in High Point. I follow the phone's directions for a ways, but I know a road less traveled, so I take it instead. Most of the time, the little woman inside the phone understands this and reroutes me accordingly, but sometimes she's more stubborn than the lost old man who refuses to stop and ask for directions. As I make my way toward High Point, she instructs me to make a U-turn and head back to Wendover Avenue East. I refuse to do this thing because I too can be stubborn. I turn onto Highway 68 South, now heading directly toward said wine bar, and phone lady is urging me to make a U-turn, head back to Wendover Avenue East, and get on Penny Road heading south. I will not.

After a few minutes, we see our destination ahead and turn into the parking lot. Lady is kind of mad at me now, repeating her directions without even pausing to breathe. I couldn't do it; I'd pass out.

We get out of the car and go inside to drink some wine as, all the while, lady in phone threatens, cajoles, and pleads for me to exit the parking lot, return to Wendover Avenue, and head to the wine bar the way she wants me to. This kind of perseverance is admirable in its way, I suppose, and I would have let her go on until I got back home except she was draining my phone battery.

My newer phone is usually less insistent when I decide to go my own way. I do prefer this, but sometimes I miss the old bitch.

Nearly a Non-Starter

It's always a treat to get together with writer Beth Massie and artist Cortney Skinner, who are two of the world's finest folks — well, mostly — and we've been hoping to work out a visit for quite a while. Ms. B. and I had calculated doing this thing a few weeks ago, but we ended up having to postpone our visit due to her cat suffering some unfortunate feline infirmities. Things on that front improved, so we rescheduled a trip to the Massie-Skinner homestead in Waynesboro, VA, this weekend. Everything looked good, so we took off work a bit early on Friday afternoon and hit the road.

About halfway there, the old Rodan Mobile decided it had had enough of the road for one night. After stopping for a cache just south of Lynchburg, VA, I put the key in the ignition to crank her up and go, only to be greeted by a wall of resounding silence.

Starter is dead. Graveyard dead. Beyond resuscitation dead.

Now, I must say, break downs suck — they SUCK — but if one must break down, one can only hope for things to work out as smoothly as they did this go-round. I got AAA on the horn — best investment I ever made, especially with all the history the Rodan Mobile has seen — and managed to reach a fellow at a garage, even though it was past their closing time. He said he could get to my car first thing Saturday morning, which was a blessing, since most of the shops we looked up were closed all day on Saturday. Ms. B. called around and found a decent enough hotel not too far away. The tow truck arrived within minutes and got us to the garage — and then the driver was kind enough to actually take us to the hotel after we got my car dropped off.

Once ensconced in our hotel room, Brugger and I checked maps for some nearby food. Ah... McDonald's. About a mile up the road. No sweat... we have feet. So we put them to good use and hiked up the way toward a late-night meal. Coming upon Spring Hill Cemetery — a large, very old, and agreeably eerie bone yard — was the evening's highlight. The gates were locked, so we couldn't go inside, but we had a great view of the stones and markers from just outside the fence. Quite enjoyed the serenity of the place after a rather stressful evening.

Yesterday morning, as promised, the garage guy promptly got a new starter put in. One quick cab ride later, we had a working automobile and soon enough were back on our way to Waynesboro. When we arrived, it was to find yet more fucked machinery: Cortney's computer had committed stupidcide, right when he was in the midst of a project with a deadline of immediately. Thankfully, eventually, he got things sorted out enough for stress levels to subside to critical. After a wee spot of geocaching with Beth and Brugger — including a most amusing visit to another graveyard — we went for a tasty Mexican dinner, a spot of ice cream, and a bit more caching.

This morning, it was off to Starbucks, where we met some more of our fabulous fiends from the area: Nanci & Phil Kalanta and artist Keith Minnion, who had provided some devilish art for Deathrealm back in the day. The shooting of shit and what not went on for some time, but then Nanci gleefully tortured us with a dramatic reading of Damn You, Demon! — the latest non-childen's children's book by Beth and her sister, Barb Lawson. Following this, we became embroiled in a long, profound discussion, which involved the waylaying of total strangers, about whether Starbuck's interior walls were painted brown or green. Unable to withstand this torture further, Ms. B. and I hastened to depart — but only after I found Beth and Cortney's geocache, "Queequeg" (GC4ARE1)... or Quohog or Hedgehog, or whatever it's called... which is on the premises.

The hunt for a couple of more caches took Ms. B. and me to a picturesque, rustic spot or two nestled in the mountains around Fairfield, VA, and then we hit Roanoke for a great lunch at Blues BBQ Company, which we had discovered last February when we were in town for Shevacon. And then, on to Valhalla Vineyards, atop a mountain just outside of Roanoke. As scenic as a location comes, this place. We quite enjoyed their wines, especially their 2007 Valkyrie — a blend of Cabernet Savignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Malbec and Petit Vedot — and 2001 Cornucopia blend, all of which come from their own grapes. The staff we met were quite personable, and Brugger and I would both recommend the place highly, with the possible caveat that quite a few of the clientele, at least while we were there, were ungodly rowdy and inconsiderate — some playing board games, which, at a winery, ought to be forbidden by at least thirteen statutes and a possible constitutional amendment. Hopefully, this was merely an anomaly, for a place as distinctive and atmospheric as Valhalla deserves more respectful treatment. It ain't no downtown bar and grill.

So, I'm back home now, where I've been trying to suppress food riots amid the feline general population for the past few hours. That's all kinds of rough, I gotta tell you.

Halloween Horrors in Wake County

During the month of October, the Wake County Public Library System will be hosting several panel discussions with North Carolina authors who specialize in dark and speculative fiction. Guess who fits that bill....

The events will take place at various of the library branches, and I am scheduled to participate on Sunday, October 13, at 2:00 PM at the Eva Perry Regional Library in Apex, NC, along with Jenna Black, Clay & Susan Griffith, and Lisa Shearin. Authors will discuss speculative fiction, their writing processes, and more, with an audience question-and-answer session following. If you're in range, please come on out and join the discussion. The library is located at 2100 Shepherd's Vineyard Drive,Apex, NC 27502 (View Map). For more information, visit the Wake County government's library event site here.

I'm pretty sure there will be geocaching for afters. I hope to autograph several log sheets.

UProoted

UProoted. Can you see the geocache?
(Click image to enlarge.)

Geocaching forever takes me to some mighty neat places, and this past weekend, I found another cool hiking trail a few miles up the road — on the campus of Rockingham Community College, in Wentworth, NC. Several years ago, I did a presentation about creative writing to the writers group there (indoors, not on the trail). The campus is not terribly large, but there's about five miles of trail through the surrounding woods, and they're fairly scenic, with lots of variation in terrain and a rocky creek with a neat little waterfall. Near the trail head, there's a quaint little reconstructed village featuring several structures, some built as far back as the mid-1800s, which were moved from various locations in Rockingham County. A few new caches came out on the trail the other day, and when I went after them, I enjoyed the area so much I put out a couple of my own. Alas, one of them turned out to be too close to another one that had already been hidden but not yet published, so I had to retrieve the container — a nice decon box I found at the Liberty Antique Festival, of all places. I'll head back up there soon enough to put it out in a new location, hopefully free of proximity issues. The other one was published yesterday — "UProoted," it's called (for good reason), and if you have sharp eyes, you might be able to spy it in the photo at left.

Four more cache finds to mini-milestone #6,300. This weekend, no doubt.

The reconstructed village at the trail head. The buildings consist of tobacco factory, a tobacco barn,
a corn crib, and a one-room school house.

The little waterfall along the trail. The nearby cache is aptly named "Not Quite Niagara."

Damned Rodan's Ribs of Fire

Back when I was a fry cook at Shoney's — 1978–1979, there or about — I never would have imagined I might actually derive pleasure from cooking. Somewhere along the line, though, I took a liking to preparing simple but satisfying dinners for me and the occasional guest. Grilling up dead animal has always provided some measure of satisfaction, largely because my dad, when I was a kid, cooked mighty mean steaks and spare ribs, and it was a rare dish that could compete with them. His barbecued beef ribs in particular used to send me swooning, and it was only recently that my attempts to replicate them found even the smallest measure of success. My means to this end, however, could hardly be more different.

A while back, I was listening to The Splendid Table on NPR — a hopelessly stuffy and dry show, though nonetheless occasionally informative — and one of the segments highlighted a particular chicken joint where, after frying their bird, they dipped it in boiling barbecue sauce. Something about this process fascinated me, so I decided to give the same thing a try with my beef ribs. What a joyful decision this proved to be!

Needless to say, being an aficionado of the supremely hot, I doctor up the critter something fierce. Here's how I do it, in case you'd like to try. Note that the ingredients vary a bit, based on what I have floating around in my fridge and spice cabinets. I quite prefer charcoal to gas grilling.

DAMNED RODAN'S RIBS OF FIRE (serves 1–2)
What You Need:
4–6 beef short ribs
approximately 2 cups fiery barbecue sauce (see below for ingredients)
garlic powder
salt & pepper

The Sauce:
The exact recipe varies from occasion to occasion, but the hot stuff is always prevalent. Measures are approximate, to say the least.
1 cup basic barbecue sauce (I prefer hickory or honey flavor)
1/2 cup A-1 steak sauce
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
2 tbsp rice vinegar
2 tsp hot sauce (favorites include Blair's After Death, Iguana XXX habanero pepper sauce, Krakatoa hot sauce)
1–2 minced hot peppers (ghost pepper, habanero, serrano are favorites)

What You Do:
Mix the ingredients for the sauce thoroughly. Liberally dash garlic powder, salt, and pepper on the ribs (this is the only preparation I do prior to putting them on the grill). Once the grill is ready, place the ribs on the coolest part of the surface. Turn frequently, keeping the smallest ribs farthest from the most direct heat. Just before they're ready to come off the grill — about 20 to 25 minutes, depending on their size — I put them all in the hot center for a few minutes to let the outside get crispy.

Shortly before removing the ribs from the grill, start the sauce boiling at very high temperature. Once it's bubbling furiously, dip each rib in the sauce for about one minute, so that each is nicely glazed.

Serve immediately. A cold beverage goes exceedingly well with these — though, when I'm feeling masochistic, I've been known to accompany them with a Damned Rodan's Dirty Firetini.

Try 'em... you'll like 'em.

Lyra's Lair 4

Old Rodan signs Lyra's log.

In 2007, I discovered geocaching when I went searching online for some information about the trail system at Doe Run Park in Martinsville. I have always enjoyed trail hiking, as it can be particularly inspiring when I'm brainstorming ideas for a book or story, as I was at the time. The first link that came up when I Googled the trail was for something called "Lyra's Lair" at Geocaching.com. As read through the listing, I learned that geocaching is a kind of high-tech scavenger hunt, in which you use a handheld GPS to locate hidden objects, each of which contains a physical logbook you sign when you find it. This whole premise fascinated me, and I discovered that the number of geocaches lurking around me, no matter where I went, was prodigious. Even before I owned a GPS, I set out to find a few, and once I did — in early 2008 — I was hooked. And, if you have ever visited this blog, you probably know that I've been hard at it ever since.

There were actually several "Lyra's Lair" caches, all numbered, hidden in and around Martinsville (and elsewhere in Virginia, for that matter). There is one — number 4 — that has been leering at me since I started caching. It was hidden back in 2002, and it resides up on Turkeycock Mountain, a few miles northeast of town. The cache location is pretty remote — about four miles from the nearest gate, and the gates are closed when it's not hunting season. Last night, a fellow geocacher, Mr. Todd "ttbiker" Briggs, sent me a message, wondering whether I might be interested in attempting this long-lurking oldie. Since, fortuitously, I happened to be in Martinsville at the time, I figured sure, why not.

Now, since I was a youngster, I've heard tales of the Turkeycock Mountain rattlesnakes. The place is supposed to be infested with them. Even last night, a friend of Todd's admonished him to beware of rattlesnakes. However, there's a cache in those woods, and when there's a cache in the woods, the rattlesnakes are just going to have to suck it up. Sulk if you must, snakes.

The morning proved drizzly and foggy, but we both preferred this to hot, muggy weather. Turns out, we both quite enjoyed the rather eerie atmosphere the dense mist provided. The hike out to the cache was virtually all uphill, but mostly on gravel surface, with little bushwhacking until we actually reached ground zero. It took several minutes of hunting, but soon enough, Todd called "Found it!"

Those are welcome words when you've undertaken a four-mile hike uphill specifically to find a cache.

The hike back was a bit easier, since it was mostly downhill. The fog remained with us for the entire journey, at times getting so thick we could barely see a thing beyond the road's edge. We did notice one object we had failed to see on our way to the cache — a sign for a graveyard dating back to the 1800s. Of the graves themselves, we could find nothing apart from an ancient, weathered stone that might or might not have been a grave marker.

Nor did we find any rattlesnakes. It was almost disappointing — though I can safely say I'd just as soon not tangle with a rattlesnake if he insists on being in a foul mood. Other than fantastic numbers of spiders (shades of Spider Finch Park), a box turtle was one of the few wildlife specimens we encountered during our time out there, though there were plenty of signs of others — deer, opossum, raccoon, and horse tracks, not to mention bizarre human footprints in the mud, heading inbound while we were on our way outbound. Whose could those have been, I wonder!

Conquering Lyra's Lair 4 couldn't have been much more gratifying. And in such good company.

Maybe next time, snakes.

The creeping fog remained with us for the whole journey.

One of the few wildlife specimens we encountered

Lyra's Lair 4 peeking out from its hiding place

Mist obscuring the mountainside beyond the lake

Spider Finch Park

It's been some time since I undertook a pretty big geocaching outing all by my lonesome. I was hoping for the company of a couple of distinguished cachers of my acquaintance today, but, sadly, circumstances didn't work out. So, since I have to travel some distance to hike after caches I haven't already found, I made my way solo toward Lexington, NC, to explore a couple of geocache-rich trails. First was Finch Park, along Abbott's Creek. It's named for the Finch family, but it is apt, considering the proliferation of finches I saw flitting all about the place. In even greater proliferation, however, were spiders, with webs stretched between just about every tree in the woods — most of which I managed to personally discover. Sure enough, it's the season for them, but I've hiked in the woods every spider season for I can't count the years, and I'm pretty sure I've never seen them in such vast numbers. Big ones, little ones, hairy ones, bald ones, dull-colored, bright-colored. Now, I didn't see any of those gigantic, Buick-chomping wolf spiders hanging about, but come nightfall, I guarantee you, those woods will be crawling with them. It would be most interesting to go out there spider hunting at night with a bright flashlight....

Upon my egress from the trail, I found myself wrapped like a mummy in spiderweb, so I took the opportunity to de-web myself. From there, I headed over to City Lake Park, a few miles to the north, which is a bit more extensive, trail-wise. The terrain is generally moderate, certainly compared to the Haw River Trail I hiked a couple of weeks back (see "Haw River Bison," September 2, 2013), though once you get out a ways, the trail peters out, and the bushwhacking occasionally requires considerable effort. I was most taken with one particular cache that required an enjoyable tree-climb; it's not as high as all that, though you sure as hell wouldn't want to fall out (unless you're one of those who bounce when dropped from the heights).

At the end of the day, I had put in about six miles, plus the climb, and added 27 caches to my total (which now stands at 6,274). I will tell you this, I haven't been this sore in a long while; the legs are aching as if King Kong gave them a couple of good tugs. When I got home, I rounded out the evening with some of the best barbecued spare ribs I ever made — even better than my dad's, which I didn't think I would ever manage. Perhaps when I'm not quite so exhausted, I'll post the recipe.

I sleep now.

Click images to enlarge.

Looking up from the base of a massive, three-trunked ghostwood tree. Wow, Bob, Wow!

The dam at Lexington's City Lake Park

King Kong's water faucets

Big mama tree at Finch Park, which towers over everything else in the woods.

L: Vampire tree at Finch Park; R: Yeah, the cache is on up there a ways.

Ahh! Another slimed ammo can. Shoggoths?

The Captured Bird

On the heels of The Hound, here's another rather Lovecraftian short film for your enjoyment. This one is The Captured Bird, written and directed by Canadian writer/filmmaker Jovanka Vuckovic, produced by Jason Lapeyre, and executive produced by Guillermo del Toro. In this one, the atmospheric music and visuals come together to create a perfectly creepy mood — to me, it's just the ticket for a Friday the 13th, not to mention a fine lead-in to the Halloween season (my favorite time of year). The ending quite makes me smile.

The complete seven-and-a-half-minute film is available on YouTube (The Captured Bird) and can be downloaded or purchased on CD with a selection of extra features directly from watch.thecapturedbird.com.

Looky looky.

Anthony Penta's Adaptation of HPL's "The Hound"

I had no idea this amateur production existed until it was recently shared on Facebook. H. P. Lovecraft's 1922 short story "The Hound" is rarely considered among his major works, but I have always enjoyed its grim tone, Poe-esque prose, and rather amusing depiction of human decadence. This 1997 video adaptation, originally produced by Anthony Penta on SVHS tape, has been digitally restored and is available for free streaming or download on Vimeo. It stars Scott Hoye and Steve Toth (who also composed the eerie score). I'm not overly fond of the narration, but the imagery and overall atmosphere could not better capture the story's deviant characters and overwhelming sense of impending doom. The combination of music, deeply shadowed visuals, and slow, tense pace make this little production far more effective than any single big-budget adaptation of Lovecraft's work. It runs about 18 minutes long, so it's less than a third of an hour of your time well spent. Give 'er a look: H. P. Lovecraft's The Hound

Things That Go Bump...

...and thump and thud and rumble and scrabble and crash and scrape and bang and growl. Yeah... last night. 2:40 AM. I awake to a sudden heavy thud against the house. First thing I do is consult the FEWS (Feline Early Warning System). If cats are paying attention, I pay attention. Sure enough, all four of them are on the alert. Another heavy thump, and cats tear downstairs, clearly alarmed. Before I know it, there are sounds of something moving around the house, though it's difficult to tell where the racket is coming from. It's everywhere, all at the same time — around the side by the fence, on the front porch, on the back porch, up on the roof. Then there's growling. Deep, angry growling. On and on it goes, and I turn on all the outside lights, trying to get a glimpse through the windows of whatever is out there. But no... it's definitely on the roof, and now it sounds like it's tearing its way into the house....

Another rapid scrabbling, and a final thump out by the fence. I wait with bated breath, but no further sound comes from out there. Eventually, the cats slink out from under the kitchen table, behind the couch, under the dining room chairs... all the places the bravest souls go to defend Dad against deadly attack. Then they remind me that, since I am awake, it is only proper I should fill the dinner bowls.

I'm guessing the ruckus was a couple of riled coons or possums, but from the noise, you'd think Larry Talbot was out there on a bender — though I'm pretty sure it wasn't a full moon last night. At least I can take comfort knowing the alarm system is functioning beautifully.

A Romp... or a Stomp... Through the Atomic Age

About a year ago, I had an advance look at Atomic Drive-In, a novella by fellow kaijuphile Mike Bogue (see "Coming Soon to an Atomic Drive-In Near You," July 30, 2012). At the time, its release details were still a bit sketchy, but the book is now available as a trade paperback and is soon to be released for Kindle at Amazon.com.

Here's the author's description:

"A world-bridging ’57 Chevy whisks friends Brent Sanders and Jerry Mahon to a nuke-ravaged USA. There, Brent and Jerry join the patrons of a drive-in movie theatre to wage nightly combat against gigantic mutant monsters. Amidst this life and death apocalypse, Brent falls in love with Lori Carpenter, a mysterious young woman who conceals a terrifying truth. For despite the atomic horrors Brent has already confronted in this post-nuked America, he doesn’t know the true meaning of fear until he discovers Lori’s dreadful secret, and then there is no turning back.

"In addition to Atomic Drive-In, the book includes five short stories featuring — in order of appearance — paranormal plants, roads not taken, Kaiju infestation, nanotech revenge, and Frankenstein’s Monster at Christmas."

The striking cover art is by Todd Tennant. To check out the whole package, go here: Mike Bogue's Atomic Drive-In. It's a heap o' good fun.

Haw River Bison

Serious cachers are serious. Deadly serious.

I always enjoy hiking along the Haw River, a hundred-mile-long tributary of the Cape Fear River, which runs through several nearby counties to the east of Greensboro. Numerous trails run along the Haw's banks, and there's not a one of them that I haven't found among the most scenic I've hiked. Much to my liking, there are geocaches aplenty on many of the trails, and yesterday, fellow cachers Rob "Robgso" Isenhour and Debbie "Cupdaisy" Shoffner set out for a trail along the Haw just east of Pittsboro, in Chatham County. On this particular stretch, there's a series of ten caches, all bison tubes (small cylinders about 2 inches long, often used for carrying pills on a keychain), which make perfect micro-sized caches. They can also be exceptionally difficult to locate when in a densely wooded area. Such was the case yesterday, as we claimed finds on only six of the ten. Typically, that's not a stellar showing for three highly experienced cachers, but almost every group who has gone after this series has come back without finding the lot of them, so we were in good company.

Funny how rocks grow on certain trees...

In the 90-degree heat and very high humidity, our hike was rigorous to say the least... "brutal," even, according to Mr. Rob. Regardless, to my mind, it was a great day in the out of doors, with lots of challenging terrain and some incredible views of the river. There was one length of trail in particular — and it's a trail only the technical sense — that involved scaling many massive boulders, and there were several places that a bad step would have been bad indeed. It was worth every second of it, mainly for the scenery, but also because I did eat rather well this past week, and I needed to burn a few calories. That I did and then some.

Naturally, afterward, some of them were replenished by way of a Ham's bison burger, but that's all beside the point....

I hope you had a mighty fine labor day. I spent a portion of mine groaning about sore muscles.

It's not so evident in the photo, but a bad step here would be bad. A long way to bounce downward.

31 Days of Geocaching

"31 Days of Geocaching" has been one of those little gimmicks that Groundspeak — the owner of geocaching.com — devised to promote caching. For each day in August 2013 you found and logged a geocache, you earned one of these dorky little pieces of "souvenir" art to go on your geocaching.com profile page. I rarely need much additional motivation to go out on the hunt, but since I did log caches for the first several consecutive days in August, I decided I might as well attempt to shoot for the whole month. Happily, there were just enough unclaimed caches in the area for me to hunt without having to drive to Timbuktu, and it actually did prove to be quite fun. On some days, I got up extra early to grab a cache before work, which I really enjoyed... except for the getting up extra early part. See "Deep Discoveries" for the most intriguing find of the month. Anyway, it's all done, and there on the left is a shot of those 31 dorky little souvenirs I earned.

Found a half dozen today, including one at a particular favorite type of location: an ancient, very scenic graveyard. Last night, Ms. B. and I headed up to Martinsville to visit Mum, and from there, this afternoon, we made our way out to NC's Yadkin Valley to visit a couple of vineyards — Stony Knoll and Olde Mill, the latter of which proved to be one of the best we've been to in this region. Good dry reds! Anyhoo, on the way, we stopped in Germanton, NC, so I could go after "Germanton Fresco" (GC253GH), which lurks in a graveyard behind an old church that dates back to the early 1800s. It's a fairly haunted-looking place, which of course made me happier than an emu at a cricket farm. Oh yeah, an emu lives next door to the graveyard; we exchanged pleasantries, but he didn't seem otherwise inclined to chat with us. Overall, a most pleasant location to spend a few minutes on the hunt. Being buried in a place like this one might take a little of the suck out of being buried, I always say.

I sleep now.

I'd so love to visit this place after dark.

Old fellow finds a relaxing spot

Emu

The Game Changers

My latest tale... "The Game Changers"... done and sent out. One way or the other, I'm certain it will be inflicted upon numerous readers, and the more the merrier. In the meantime, in case you missed it previously, you might give my interview over at Ginger Nuts of Horror a look. It's an extensive, well-researched Q & A session with proprietor Jim McLeod. Tis here: Ginger Nuts of Horror Interviews Stephen Mark Rainey

I'm sure you're dying a for a spot of Lovecraftian horror as well, aren't you. Got just the thing for you — and it's free. It's my right scary tale "Beneath the Pier" at Lovecraft eZine, from the January 2013 issue. It ought to get you right in the mood for "The Game Changers." Check that one out here: "Beneath the Pier" by Stephen Mark Rainey

Note that a couple of my tales made the 2012 Honorable Mention list in Ellen Datlow's Best Horror of the Year, Volume 5: "The End of Henry Switch Road," from Dark Discoveries issue #20, and The Gods of Moab, my novella for ye Kindle at Amazon.com. Heck, you can pick up the latter for a measly $2.99 — less than a half-decent beer — right here: The Gods of Moab by Stephen Mark Rainey

Just do it.

Deep Discoveries

I've many times said the most enjoyable, oftentimes exhilarating aspect of geocaching is finding places I never knew existed. As often as not, they exist virtually next door, hiding just beyond the view of familiar, well-traveled roads and pathways. Over fifty-some years, I've explored just about every nook and cranny in and around my old hometown of Martinsville, VA, and there is scarcely a stand of woods or hidden back alley I haven't ventured into at some point or another in my life. Well, so I thought, anyway. This past weekend, I was there visiting Mum, and early Saturday morning, a new geocache was published ("Oh, the Places You'll Go," GC4JZVR). Being keen on perhaps getting first-to-find, I headed straight out to Kings Mountain Road, just beyond the city limits, parked along the roadside, and hoofed it past a bunch of boulders where the woods have been cleared to make way for some new construction.

Then I found myself facing that — the old quarry you see pictured above. The photo, of course, scarcely does the view justice (click on it to enlarge the image); I found it dizzying, and the spot where I was standing to take the picture — six feet or so from the edge — was as close as I dared venture. It's mostly just loose shale there, leading to a sheer drop of well over a hundred feet. Just east of the quarry (to the left of this photo), there's an arm of Beaver Hills Golf Course (sometimes less-than-affectionately known as The Rockpile) where I played golf several times as a teenager. Judging from the aerial views on Google maps, the quarry would likely have been visible from at least one of the fairways, though I have no recollection from those dim, distant days of actually having seen it. A cursory search for information on the place hasn't turned up much, but I find myself inclined to go digging deeper. According to a local geocacher, who used to work with my dad at Dupont, the quarry is rather infamous. Reputedly, there are several cars, some complete with bodies, in the bottom of that lake, which is some two-hundred feet deep. It is, after all, the perfect place to eliminate inconvenient evidence. I'm also told that, back in the 70s, someone went scuba diving in the lake there and never came out.

Fascinating stuff.

And yes, gracious, I did get first-to-find on that cache.

"Oh, the places you'll go. There is fun to be done!"—Dr. Seuss

Dark Discoveries, Dark Shadows, Dark Decades

The ever-appealing Dark Discoveries magazine, issue #24, has hit the streets, featuring my extensive retrospective look at Dark Shadows, "Dark Shadows, Dark Decades," which kept me quite busy for a couple of weeks back in late May/early June ("Its Business Time"). The article is, per DD's usual standards, nicely presented. If you were a Dark Shadows fan, you'll probably find it entertaining; if you weren't, perhaps you'll learn something fun. There's also a nice interview with Dark Shadows star Kathryn Leigh Scott, lots of news and reviews, fiction by David Morrell, Gene O'Neill, William F. Nolan, Brian Sammons, and much more. Check it out here: Dark Discoveries #24

Ahhh, Ginger Nuts!

I spent a good portion of last week responding to a lengthy set of thoughtful and well-researched interview questions by Jim McLeod for his Ginger Nuts of Horror website. It surely makes me smile when someone shows genuine respect for me and even some fondness for my work, as Jim did with his interview. The whole business was a lot to go through — the final word count is over 6,000 words — but it was worth every minute of effort. If you've ever wanted to ask me anything about my chosen side vocation, Deathrealm, Dark Shadows, Godzilla, et. al., here's your chance; you'll almost certainly find your questions answered here. The interview went live at the Ginger Nuts website today. Check it out here:  Ginger Nuts of Horror Interviews Stephen Mark Rainey. Since Jim is in the UK, the MS Word file he provided me defaulted to UK English, so color came out colour and marvelous came out marvellous. I rather enjoy this because it makes me sound ever so much smarter.

Let's Get This Show on the Road!

We had been sitting on the set of Invasion of the Killer Cicadas waiting for the director to call "Action!" for a while, and Ms. Sarah Smith — the director's aunt — was ready to up and exterminate some giant bugs. So she hollered, "Let's get this show on the road!" and, sure enough, before we knew it, we were in a town meeting formulating a strategy to destroy the monster insects that have invaded the little town of Martindale. Well, most of the forty or so people gathered there had that noble purpose in mind. However, one nefarious fellow — Professor Doctor Werner von Schwartztotten — was in attendance specifically to detail a rather sinister plan for world domination by way of engineering giant carnivorous insects. And lucky me — I was cast as the cranky old prof! (Good thing the producers are going against typecasting.) Happily, Ms. Brugger, who accompanied me to the shoot, was given a few lines to hurl at the camera, so I hope her day was as satisfying.

As I've posted previously, Invasion of the Killer Cicadas is the newest horror offering from independent filmmakers Mat and Myron Smith, of Martinsville, VA. Just over a year ago, I made a brief appearance in their first venture, Young Blood: Evil Intentions, which was a horrifically funny production about vampire kids. This time around, the horror gets BIG, and the giant cicadas may be just the beginning — according to the professor, "Zis vill be ze beginning of ze end!"

The movie has been in production for several months, and there are still a few scenes left to film before the project is wrapped up. The script promises to offer some hysterical surprises... as I got to see first-hand. I know my anticipation is at fever pitch, as yours should be. In the meantime, why not enjoy some roasted cicadas as a snack?

Cut.

The townsfolk gather to formulate a plan to exterminate the big bugs.

Director Myron Smith (L) follows with the script as Cop (Christopher Harding, R) directs the hordes
of locals preparing to wage war against the killer cicadas.

Protagonist J.P. (John Robert Price II) and the secretive arms dealer (Dod Smith) plot to make some massive
explosions, ostensibly in the name of fighting the killer cicadas.

Dammit, Sarah, what have you done this time? In dutch with the law... again.

J.P. (John Robert Price II), stoned on the job.

Bret Smith and Professor Doctor Werner Von Schwartztotten (ye old dude)

The Cicadas Are Coming... Again

No, not the 17-year variety that came and went a short time ago, but the giant, killer kind that spring from the minds of independent filmmakers Mat and Myron Smith, who last year treated us to Young Blood: Evil Intentions, made in Martinsville, VA. I had a teeny tiny role in that one — see "Young Blood — The Movie," March 9, 2012 — and I gotta tell you, since then, the movie offers have been rolling in; so many I can't keep up with them. But me, I'm choosy, so I've been holding out for just the right part, and I think it's finally come round. The Smith brothers' next project is Invasion of the Killer Cicadas, which is now under way in Martinsville, and, this coming Saturday, August 3, I'm slated to play a mad professor at a town meeting. There's room for extras, I'm told, so if you're in the area and are dying for a chance to appear in monstrously fun monster flick, this may be it. The shoot will take place at Jefferson Plaza in uptown Martinsville at 10:00 AM. Bring your funny bones.

On the set of Invasion of the Killer Cicadas — from left to right: Summer McAlexander, Sharon "Kay" Dodd,
Mat Smith, Myron Smith, Christine Edwards, Karen Colletti