Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 44

Sabbatical

It was something of a whim. The other day, I was working on a chapter of my upcoming Ameri-Scares series novel — Georgia: The Haunting of Tate's Mill — which is set in Gainesville, GA, my mom's hometown. I spent much of my youth visiting my grandparents here, particularly at Christmastime. The novel is set at nearby Lake Sidney Lanier, and at one point, I began thinking, "I'd sure like to be able to eyeball some of these places I'm describing in person rather than on Google." Well, I'm retired from the day job now, and as I didn't have any crucial plans at home for this week, I decided to drive down, stay for a few days, and get all the info I needed. Plus... perhaps most importantly... there are still plenty of geocaches here that I need.
Monday, February 28, 2022: Departures and Arrivals At about 9:30 a.m., I hit the road, only to be halted immediately by an accident on US 29 South that had blocked the highway. Fortunately, I was able to exit and detour around it before the road became impassable. And once underway, travel proceeded generally smoothly, which has so often not been the case on trips involving Interstate 85 South. I grabbed a handful of caches along the way, and arrived in Gainesville at 3:00 p.m. sharp, which was fortuitous, since that was check-in time at my hotel.
Once settled in, I headed over to my grandparents' old place, just to give it a look. As I was taking a few photos, a young lady came from within to check me out, so I told her about having spent much of my youth in that house. Rather to my surprise, she knew a lot about my family, since she had become friends with the neighbor across the street (sadly, now deceased), who was among my grandparents' best friends. The young lady was kind enough to let me come in and see the place, for which I was incredibly grateful, and we chatted about old times there for quite a while. We exchanged contact information, and I sent her some family photos I had on Google, particularly those that were taken in Gainesville. With all that's changed over the years here — so much of it, to my mind, undesirable — I found it most gratifying that this little corner of the past has been preserved to the degree that it is. After this visit, I went down to Ivey Terrace Park, very near my grandparents' old place, where my brother and I frequently played as kids. I found a couple of caches. Yes, I did. Then I returned to the hotel to freshen up a bit.
For dinner, I wandered up to Southern Recess Gastro Pub , which Brugger and I had enjoyed on our trips here in 2012 ( "Let's Do the Time Warp Again" ) and 2013 ( "Chicken City" ). The restaurant was crowded, but I was able to procure a seat outside (which was perfect, since it's tradition, and the indoors is really noisy). I went for a dirty gin martini and fish & chips. The martini was perfect, the fish & chips very good. To date, my favorite fish & chips have been found at The Celtic Fringe , in Reidsville, NC, and The Spotted Dog , in Carrboro, NC; Southern Recess makes them mighty fine, to be sure, but I don't think they're quite up to my favorites. Footbridge over Jesse Jewell Parkway. Last time here, I found a cache there;
it's now closed for construction at either end. A remnant of the picturesque past: the Gainesville courthouse Dinner destination: Southern Recess Gastro Pub on Bradford Street Martini plus fish & chips equals all kinds of happy After dinner, on my walk back to the hotel, I stopped at a nearby parking garage to hunt a cache — "Jury Duty" ( GCGKYT ) — which I had sought on an earlier trip, but without success. This time, I found the little monster. I love the fact that, after all these years, the cache is still in place and in decent condition. With a fine dinner and excellent drink under under my belt, not to mention having claimed a difficult cache, I count the evening as most pleasing. View from the parking garage while hunting "Jury Duty" A lovely night in Gainesville, viewed from on high Tuesday, March 1, 2022: Good Eats, Achy Feetz Cache log with my signature—and the sigs
of some fellow cachers from back home.
Apparently, I was pretty exhausted after the previous day's rigors, for I enjoyed a near-nine-hour, unbroken night's sleep, which virtually never happens these days. Upon waking, I made myself a couple of barrels of coffee, took a shower, and ventured out into the ungodly traffic nightmare that Gainesville has become. Judas F'ing Priest, what a change from the days when I knew Gainesville best. From the time I was a very small child, all through my college days, and for some years beyond, Gainesville was serene, picturesque town with a fantastic, if relaxed, quality of life; it's now a bustling den of insanity, with traffic gridlock day in and day out, and scarcely a square foot of land that hasn't been overdeveloped. To be fair, a reasonable sampling of the town's innate loveliness remains, yet getting to any of it has become an experiment in how much burgeoning humanity a sane person's patience can stand. My god... how anyone can live in such a monstrous maze of unending gridlock is beyond me. I know that this is very subjective, but I grieve, heartily, for the loss of the singular, uplifting character that once defined this town. It's now a bedroom community of Atlanta, with a handful of the amenities but all of the nightmares of overcrowded urbania. It sickens me to my heart.
Now that I've ranted about the seven hells of overpopulation, let's get back to some happier doings. After my morning's refurbishment, out I went among the natives to the nearest Publix and picked up a few staples — mainly coffee and coffee acoutrements, which the hotel doesn't provide, at least in any sufficiency, plus lunch things, so I don't have to eat out every meal. Then... I grabbed a few geocaches, some way out Thompson Bridge Road, some close in to town. Yes, I did this thing. It was neat as can be to find, on a few of the cache logs, the signatures of some good friends and fellow geocachers from back home.
Before packing it in for the afternoon, I revisited Ivey Terrace Park and my grandparents' old place, where I scattered some of Phred's ashes. I know he desired this. The little springhouse at Ivey Terrace Park. It's been there since my mom was a kid, and my brother
and I both played here when we were little. I scattered some of his ashes round it. Back at the hotel, I cobbled together lunch from the goodies I'd picked up at the store. Then I paid a visit to my cousin, Mark Bell (Jr.), whom I haven't seen in many years. He and my mom were near in age and regularly kept in touch until Mom's health precluded it. It was a wonderful, revitalizing time for me — a reminder of the days when I had a relatively large, close extended family. That is, sadly, a time now gone.
A wonderful jalapeno margarita at
Tino's Mexican Restaurant
I did a little more geocaching before returning to the hotel for a bit of recuperation (the caching has been rigorous, I can tell you). For dinner, I opted to try Tino's Tex-Mex Restaurant , right here at the hotel, and it was a fine choice. I had fantastic beef brisket tacos and a right large jalapeno margarita. As it is with most Mexican restaurants, there wasn't much tequila in the drink, but that was actually fine by me, for I had plenty of high-octane drink waiting for me in my hotel room. However... prior to returning, I went out on what turned out to be a long (roughly three-mile) walk after the stages of an Adventure Lab cache. This proved both exhilarating and bloody frustrating. I found all but one of the stages, but that one...whew! I couldn't find it tonight, and I don't know whether I'll be able to tomorrow. We shall see, we shall. But I did see some cool sights, including what has to be Gainesville's most haunted house. I feel like I might have even brought a horrible ghost back with me, just from walking by it. I gotta say... I love it!
And then... exhaustion set in. G'night and G'bless. Exceptional brisket tacos at Tino's Tex-Mex Restaurant in Gainesville Do not tell me this place is not haunted. It is haunted. "Love Freedom," a massive mural at one of the geocache stages I visited this evening Wednesday, March 2, 2022: The Haunted Lake If, some years ago, I hadn't read online about the legends of "haunted" Lake Sidney Lanier, I'd have never suspected the lake had such a reputation. I spent a lot of time at Lake Lanier in my youth, and knew quite a few people in the vicinity, and the subject of ghostly happenings out there never came up. Lake Lanier is a massive recreation area, and I suspect the majority of folks who use it aren't really aware of its dark reputation. No matter; for Georgia: The Haunting of Tate's Mill, make no mistake, there will be ghostly events aplenty, and if the characters didn't know about the possibility of such otherworldly shenanigans from the start... well... that's on them.
The first thing I did this morning — after coffee and a breakfast bar — was head out Cleveland Highway to the site of Old Bell's Mill, which was quite well known in its day (I wrote a bit about Bell's Mill and how it relates to my Ameri-Scares novel here ). Here, I didn't hunt geocaches, but I did scope out the precise area that I have fictionalized for the book and take a bunch of photos. This will come in handy in fine-tuning my descriptions of the setting, which I do try to paint as accurately as possible. The whole point of the books is to capture at least a modicum of local color, and I'm glad to have been able to spend quality time at three of the five locations in my series novels. The site of Old Bell's Mill... as near as one can get to it Afterward, I did go geocache hunting, of course. I finished up a couple of Adventure Lab caches I had begun last night, hunted their associated bonus caches, and went after a bunch of hides on Gainesville north and east sides — some woodland hides that required negotiating moderate to tough terrain, and some typical urban hides that required stopping the car, jumping out, and signing the cache log. I broke for lunch — a chicken salad sandwich, from the supplies I bought yesterday — and then, after logging my morning's finds, headed right back out. This afternoon, I headed south and west, out Dawsonville Highway, and found another bunch, mostly urban park & grabs. The only trail hide, near Gainesville High School, I was unable to find. I sort of suspect it's missing... or I may just have missed it. One's as likely as the other, I suppose. Being out and about and fighting the fucking Gainesville traffic just about sent me over the edge — again. Far as I'm concerned, there's just no excuse for this much goddamn humanity in a small town.
Tonight, I discovered dinner at 37 Main , a bar with fair character and lots of specials. I went early to beat the crowd (tonight is "Trivia Wednesday"), but — little did I know — it was happy hour, where everything is half price. So, I ended up with excellent chicken wings and a very fine gin martini for $10 (of course, I tipped very well, as the service was great). I've been doing my best to keep costs very low on this trip, and this bit of good luck helped quite a bit.
Tomorrow, I anticipate hitting the road as soon as I'm up and packed — after rush hour, inasmuch as rush hour actually lets up here.
This ruination of a beautiful small town by too many motherfucking people is the one thing that hurts me to my soul. All my life, I loved this town, its character, its superb quality of living — which didn't involve fighting big-city congestion in a place never, ever in a million years was designed for this kind of population explosion. There was a time I actually considered living here. I couldn't do it now. It would literally kill me. And that really hurts.
Otherwise... I made for myself an excellent time here, and in some ways, I'm sorry I can't spend more time here. I did find several little slices of the best of life that Gainesville offered long ago. I sure hope it can hang onto those. I suspect it won't be long, though, before they are razed, and all we see is more people, more scars upon the land. Never have John Denver's lyrics hit so close to home.
Peace out. 37 Main from my table vantage point The old football field behind Gainesville Civic Center. When I was a kid, my grandfather brought
me to many Gainesville High School football games here.

Sabbatical, Part 1

It was something of a whim. The other day, I was working on a chapter of my upcoming Ameri-Scares series novel — Georgia: The Haunting of Tate's Mill — which is set in Gainesville, GA, my mom's hometown. I spent much of my youth visiting my grandparents here, particularly at Christmastime. The novel is set at nearby Lake Sidney Lanier, and at one point, I began thinking, "I'd sure like to be able to eyeball some of these places I'm describing in person rather than on Google." Well, I'm retired now, and as I didn't have any crucial plans at home for this week, I decided to drive down, stay for a few days, and get all the info I needed. Plus... perhaps most importantly... there are still plenty of geocaches here that I need.
Monday, February 28, 2022: Departures and Arrivals At about 9:30 a.m., I hit the road, only to be halted immediately by an accident on US 29 South that had blocked the highway. Fortunately, I was able to exit and detour around it before the road became impassable. And once underway, travel proceeded generally smoothly, which has so often not been the case on trips involving Interstate 85 South. I grabbed a handful of caches along the way, and arrived in Gainesville at 3:00 p.m. sharp, which was fortuitous, since that was check-in time at my hotel.
Once settled in, I headed over to my grandparents' old place, just to give it a look. As I was taking a few photos, a young lady came from within to check me out, so I told her about having spent much of my youth in that house. Rather to my surprise, she knew a lot about my family, since she had become friends with the neighbor across the street (sadly, now deceased), who was among my grandparents' best friends. The young lady was kind enough to let me come in and see the place, for which I was incredibly grateful, and we chatted about old times there for quite a while. We exchanged contact information, and I sent her some family photos I had on Google, particularly those that were taken in Gainesville. With all that's changed over the years here — so much of it, to my mind, undesirable — I found it most gratifying that this little corner of the past has been preserved to the degree that it is. After this visit, I went down to Ivey Terrace Park, very near my grandparents' old place, where my brother and I frequently played as kids. I found a couple of caches. Yes, I did. Then I returned to the hotel to freshen up a bit.
For dinner, I wandered up to Southern Recess Gastro Pub , which Brugger and I had enjoyed on our trips here in 2012 ( "Let's Do the Time Warp Again" ) and 2013 ( "Chicken City" ). The restaurant was crowded, but I was able to procure a seat outside (which was perfect, since it's tradition, and the indoors is really noisy). I went for a dirty gin martini and fish & chips. The martini was perfect, the fish & chips very good. To date, my favorite fish & chips have been found at The Celtic Fringe , in Reidsville, NC, and The Spotted Dog , in Carrboro, NC; Southern Recess makes them mighty fine, to be sure, but I don't think they're quite up to my favorites. Footbridge over Jesse Jewell Parkway. Last time here, I found a cache there;
it's now closed for construction at either end. A remnant of the picturesque past: the Gainesville courthouse Dinner destination: Southern Recess Gastro Pub on Bradford Street Martini plus fish & chips equals all kinds of happy After dinner, on my walk back to the hotel, I stopped at a nearby parking garage to hunt a cache — "Jury Duty" ( GCGKYT ) — which I had sought on an earlier trip, but without success. This time, I found the little monster. I love the fact that, after all these years, the cache is still in place and in decent condition. With a fine dinner and excellent drink under under my belt, not to mention having claimed a difficult cache, I count the evening as quite a fine one. View from the parking garage while hunting "Jury Duty" A lovely night in Gainesville, viewed from on high Tuesday, March 1, 2022: Good Eats, Achy Feetz Cache log with my signature—and the sigs
of some fellow cachers from back home.
Apparently, I was pretty exhausted after the previous day's rigors, for I ennjoyed a near-nine-hour, unbroken night's sleep, which virtually never happens these days. Upon awaking, I made myself a couple of barrels of coffee, took a shower, and ventured out into the ungodly traffic nightmare that Gainesville has become. Judas F'ing Priest, what a change from the days when I knew Gainesville best. From the time I was a very small child, all through my college days, and for some years beyond, Gainesville was serene, picturesque town with a fantastic, if relaxed, quality of life; it's now a bustling den of insanity, with traffic gridlock day in and day out, and scarcely a square foot of land that hasn't been overdeveloped. To be fair, a reasonable sampling of the town's innate loveliness remains, yet getting to any of it has become an experiment in how much burgeoning humanity a sane person's patience can stand. My god... how anyone can live in such a monstrous maze of unending gridlock is beyond me. I know that this is very subjective, but I grieve, heartily, for the loss of the singular, uplifting character that once defined this town. It's now a bedroom community of Atlanta, with a handful of the amenities but all of the nightmares of overcrowded urbania. It sickens me to my heart.
Now that I've ranted about the seven hells of overpopulation, let's get back to some happier doings. After my morning's refurbishment, out I went among the natives to the nearest Publix and picked up a few staples — mainly coffee and coffee acoutrements, which the hotel doesn't provide, at least in any sufficiency, plus lunch things, so I don't have to eat out every meal. Then... I grabbed a few geocaches. Yes, I did this thing. It was neat as can be to find, on a few of the cache logs, the signatures of some good friends and fellow geocachers from back home.
Before packing it in for the afternoon, I revisited Ivey Terrace Park and my grandparents' old place, where I scattered some of Phred's ashes. I know he desired this. The little springhouse at Ivey Terrace Park. It's been there since my mom was a kid, and my brother
and I both played here when we were little. I scattered some of his ashes round it. Back at the hotel, I cobbled together lunch from the goodies I'd picked up at the store. Then I paid a visit to my cousin, Mark Bell (Jr.), whom I haven't seen in many years. He and my mom were near in age and regularly kept in touch until Mom's health precluded it. It was a wonderful, revitalizing time for me — a reminder of the days when I had a relatively large, close extended family. That is, sadly, a time now gone.
A wonderful jalapeno margarita at
Tino's Mexican Restaurant
I did a little more geocaching before returning to the hotel for a bit of recuperation (the caching has been rigorous, I can tell you). For dinner, I opted to try Tino's Tex-Mex Restaurant , right here at the hotel, and it was a fine choice. I had fantastic beef brisket tacos and a right large jalapeno margarita. As it is with most Mexican restaurants, there wasn't much tequila in the drink, but that was actually fine by me, for I had plenty of high-octane drink waiting for me in my hotel room. However... prior to returning, I went out on what turned out to be a long (roughly three-mile) walk after the stages of an Adventure Lab cache. This proved both exhilarating and bloody frustrating. I found all but one of the stages, but that one...whew! I couldn't find it tonight, and I don't know whether I'll be able to tomorrow. We shall see, we shall. But I did see some cool sights, including what has to be Gainesville's most haunted house. I feel like I might have even brought a horrible ghost back with me, just from walking by it. I gotta say... I love it!
And then... exhaustion set in. G'night and G'bless. Exceptional brisket tacos at Tino's Tex-Mex Restaurant in Gainesville Do not tell me this place is not haunted. It is haunted. "Love Freedom," a massive mural at one of the geocache stages I visited this evening More to come later.

Hot, Cold, Hot, Cold, Hot....

The sad conflict in Ukraine, and its potential global ramifications, has overshadowed almost everything this weekend. Here, just as COVID-19, at least as it currently stands, has finally become less a complication in our daily lives, here comes the Amazing Pootin to throw a monkey wrench into the worldworks. Today, we hear Pootin has upped the ante with his nuclear deterrent force. Just what we need to escalate a volatile situation.

In this little corner of the world, Ms. B. and I are doing our best to get through each day with as much positive energy as we can generate, for ourselves and our sphere of influence, such as it is.
My second week of retirement was not quite as relaxing as the first. Things pile up, things fall apart. Such is the way of things. Mostly, I've been spending my regular day job hours writing. Progress has been pretty good; I've certainly been more productive than over the past year, certainly within comparable time periods.
Friday, I took my usual trip to Martinsville, fit in quite a bit of work, and entertained myself with Godzilla vs. Gigan, which is far from my favorite daikaiju flick, but it sure enough features some fun monster scenes. Saturday, I hiked a ways on the Dick & Willie Trail to do maintenance one of my old geocaches. It netted me a couple of miles on the trail. Once back in Greensboro, more writing, and Ms. B. and I continued our Game of Thrones binge. Today, it was cold and wet, but that didn't stop friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) and me from going after several new caches in town. We got first-to-find on two of them (after I DNF'd one earlier this morning on a quick solo outing). For lunch, we visited Fisher's Grille , which, once upon a time, was very much a favorite dining/drinking establishment. I hadn't been there in years, though. It's gratifying to find that virtually nothing there has changed. The cajun chicken wings were as awesome as ever. And in the men's bathroom, the same framed newspaper spreads about the 1984 World Series that adorned the walls the first time I visited Fisher's in 1988 are still hanging there. Somehow, that's kind of satisfying.
Another stint writing this afternoon, and then I decided to try my hand at making some hot sauce from the kit that Brugger gave me for Christmas. I went with the smoky chipotle ingredients provided, but added some extra hot red chilis we brought back from Italy. It was my first attempt, and I've gotta say, it's a winner. Delicious flavor and quite hot — though not so hot that Brugger can't tolerate it. I'm about to go roast a chicken breast and try the sauce on it.
Wish the old dude luck. Peace out.

Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill Cover Art Reveal

It’s not the finished version, but here’s the cover design for my upcoming Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill. 
In the mid-1950s, the US Army Corps of Engineers built the Buford Dam on the Chattahoochee River and created Lake Sidney Lanier, which covers portions of Hall, Forsyth, Dawson, Gwinnett, and Lumpkin counties. Upon the dam’s completion, 625 billion gallons — give or take an ounce or two — of water submerged 56,000 acres of land, which consisted of several small communities, hundreds of farms, an auto racetrack, and innumerable graveyards. No one knows for sure how many dead bodies lie in those dark depths. In the intervening years, hundreds of people have drowned, died in boating accidents, or simply vanished in Lake Lanier’s waters. In 1958, a car plunged off a bridge into the lake, killing two young women. Since then, a ghostly apparition, known as “The Lady of the Lake” — supposedly, one of the women who died — has frequently been sighted wandering the roadways and bridges along the lake (although I never saw her). In its six and a half decades of existence, Lake Lanier has earned its reputation as the setting for grim happenings.
From the 19th century until the lake’s creation, my mom’s family — the Bell family of Gainesville, GA — owned a mill, called Bell’s Mill, just outside of Gainesville. Mom spent much of her childhood at the mill and frequently told my brother and me many stories about her happy times there. And me, I experienced the best days of my youth in Gainesville at my grandparents’ place. We often went to Lake Lanier, sometimes to swim, sometimes for family reunions, and, on occasion, to visit the site of the old mill — or as close to it as we could get, since the lake had long since claimed that land. Several years ago, on a visit to Gainesville, Ms. B. and I hunted a geocache, aptly titled “Old Bell’s Mill,” close to the mill site. Plus I spent a couple of years at the University of Georgia in Athens, less than an hour from Gainesville. Indeed, I do have a long personal history in this area.
In the 1960s and early 1970s, a family named Tate lived across the street from my grandparents, and my brother and I enjoyed playing with the Tate kids whenever we visited Gainesville. They were a fun, quirky bunch, and it seems only proper that the Tate name should be woven into my upcoming novel. And thus, Tate’s Mill it is.
While the events of the book will be completely fictitious, they are very much inspired by the spooky legends that have arisen around the lake, as well as my decades of personal experience here.
Do stay tuned.

Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill Cover Reveal

It’s not the finished version, but here’s the cover design for my upcoming Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill. 
In the mid-1950s, the US Army Corps of Engineers built the Buford Dam on the Chattahoochee River and created Lake Sidney Lanier, which covers portions of Hall, Forsyth, Dawson, Gwinnett, and Lumpkin counties. Upon the dam’s completion, 625 billion gallons — give or take an ounce or two — of water submerged 56,000 acres of land, which consisted of several small communities, hundreds of farms, an auto racetrack, and innumerable graveyards. No one knows for sure how many dead bodies lie in those dark depths. In the intervening years, hundreds of people have drowned, died in boating accidents, or simply vanished in Lake Lanier’s waters. In 1958, a car plunged off a bridge into the lake, killing two young women. Since then, a ghostly apparition, known as “The Lady of the Lake” — supposedly, one of the women who died — has frequently been sighted wandering the roadways and bridges along the lake (although I never saw her). In its six and a half decades of existence, Lake Lanier has earned its reputation as the setting for grim happenings.
From the 19th century until the lake’s creation, my mom’s family — the Bell family of Gainesville, GA — owned a mill, called Bell’s Mill, just outside of Gainesville. Mom spent much of her childhood at the mill and frequently told my brother and me many stories about her happy times there. And me, I experienced the best days of my youth in Gainesville at my grandparents’ place. We often went to Lake Lanier, sometimes to swim, sometimes for family reunions, and, on occasion, to visit the site of the old mill — or as close to it as we could get, since the lake had long since claimed that land. Several years ago, on a visit to Gainesville, Ms. B. and I hunted a geocache, aptly titled “Old Bell’s Mill,” close to the mill site. Plus I spent a couple of years at the University of Georgia in Athens, less than an hour from Gainesville. Indeed, I do have a long personal history in this area.
In the 1960s and early 1970s, a family named Tate lived across the street from my grandparents, and my brother and I enjoyed playing with the Tate kids whenever we visited Gainesville. They were a fun, quirky bunch, and it seems only proper that the Tate name should be woven into my upcoming novel. And thus, Tate’s Mill it is.
While the events of the book will be completely fictitious, they are very much inspired by the spooky legends that have arisen around the lake, as well as my decades of personal experience here.
Do stay tuned.

Oh, My Achin’ Feetz

It was a fine weekend for hiking and geocaching, and I put in more mileage, in rugged terrain, than I have in many moons. On my way to Martinsville on Friday afternoon, I detoured to the Knight Brown Preserve , near Belews Lake in Rockingham County, to hunt a cache that’s been awaiting my attention for months now. That hike was about a 3-mile round trip, and though the terrain is not particularly rugged, it presents the hiker with lots of elevation changes. Steep elevation changes. Speaking of elevation changes at the cache coordinates, there was a massive fallen tree over a gully, which offered a splendid vantage point from which to survey one’s kingdom. Always one to appreciate a physical challenge, I was hoping the cache might be up in its branches somewhere, but previous posted logs insinuated that it was not. Never you mind, I decided to go up in that tree anyhow, for we must get our jollies as we can. It was from that vantage point that I noticed the cache, just a few feet away, at a much lower elevation. I would have preferred to have to climb for it, but hey... I found it and signed the log so I could claim it. And I got my jollies in the big tree. That’s a good day.
Once settled at Pleasant Hill for the evening, I ordered some chicken tenders from Coach’s Neighborhood Grill  via Doordash , and after the afternoon’s hike, the dead bird hit the spot. I put on This Island Earth for the evening’s entertainment, but I ended up dozing through a portion of it. It’s one of those science-fiction movies from childhood that have stood out in mind for all these years. I’ve watched it a handful of times in the intervening years, but I kind of hate that I missed part of it this time around. I can always watch it again, at least as long as it’s on  YouTube . The print excellent — the best I’ve seen of it.
One of the things I adore about Pleasant Hill is the minimal light pollution at night. From the hilltop on which the house rests, the view of the sky is often spectacular. Friday night was very cold but clear, and I spent a little while outside enjoying the view. Even with my phone camera, I got a few decent shots of the constellation Orion. “Orion, won’t you give me your star sign.” On Saturday morning, I drove up to Rocky Mount, VA, hoping to claim a recently placed cache and a much older multi (which has been out there since before I started geocaching in 2008) called Grassy Hill Ridge ( GCQXD4 ). The new one was a quick and easy find at a signpost; Grassy Hill Ridge is one that, a few years back, friend Natalie (a.k.a. Ms. Fishdownthestairs) and I had sought, but the first stage was missing, so we hadn’t been able to go on with the hunt. Reaching this cache requires a roughly three-mile hike up and down a rugged mountainside. For most of that hike, the ascent was steady, on a reasonably well-worn trail. However, the last few hundred feet required negotiating a very steep, rocky incline that tested the limits of my stamina. I took even more care than usual in rough terrain, since I was out there alone, a long way from help. I really did not want to fall and bust something worse than my pride. Happily, I made the find and returned to civilization with all parts intact. Aching, but intact. Grassy Hill Ridge. Not much grass, but lots of rocks. The cache lurks way up at the top of the ridge—
several hundred feet above where I’m standing to take this photo.
Looking down from GZ, with the cache in the foreground. It’s a long, long way down! After the hike and a late, ungodly overpriced lunch from Dairy Queen , I buzzed back to Greensboro. Ms. B. and I are back watching Game of Thrones from the beginning, so we spent most of the rest of the evening in front of the television, covered with cats.
Sunday, my traditional geocaching day, usually with the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars, was indeed a caching day, but with only friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker), as none of the rest of the gang was available. And it was another day of hiking rugged terrain, this time in the Uwharrie Mountains . We planned to meet at the  Eldorado Outpost , but I had stopped for a cache on my way there, and Scott happened to see my car as he was passing by. We grabbed that cache and then headed to the trading post. From there, we headed deeper into the forest. We put in a good five miles of hiking in moderate to tough terrain, claimed a slew of caches, and returned to the outpost, where we enjoyed a very good, far more reasonably priced lunch than I’d had at Dairy Queen the previous day. Old Rodan at “Poser Rock” Guardrails along the woodland trail. Don’t see that every day. A couple of tired old farts Today, Monday, is Presidents Day, but since I’m no longer forced to operate on a company schedule, remembering such days doesn’t come so readily. Ms. B. is off work, though, so she is a woman of leisure today (although she did do a spot of housecleaning this morning, which was good, since the cleaning needed to be done, and it was most definitely her turn... haha). I was all set to finish up this blog and dive into continuing work on  Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill , but right about the time I settled into my office chair, I received email notifications that a couple of new caches had just been published. These were over in Graham, on the Long Meadow section of the Haw River Trail. Figuring I might be able to snag the first-to-find honors (which really aren’t a significant honor), I bolted out the door and drove out to the trail. Happily, I was able to find both caches — and, sure enough, I found them first. So, the old sore feet got an additional reason to be sore, though this hike (about 2.5 miles) was not rugged at all. But it was fun. And I got first-to-find.

NOW it’s back to work on the Ameri-Scares book. Toodles. Passing under Interstate 40/85 on the Haw River Trail Ground Zero: the cache is there... somewhere.

Behind the Kaiju Curtain

Norman England's Behind the Kaiju Curtain: A Journey onto Japan's Biggest Film Sets is a literal journal of the author's day-to-day experiences on and off daikaiju film sets from 1997 until 2001, initially as a feature writer for Fangoria magazine and later as the sole non-Japanese chronicler of all things behind-the-scenes on the Heisei Gamera films and Millennium series Godzilla films. Few longtime, diehard daikaiju fans (of which I am certainly one) are unfamiliar with Norman's moniker. He has covered these movies in-depth in numerous publications; conducted countless interviews with the moviemakers, soundtrack composers, and actors (including those inside the monster suits); and appeared in front of the camera in several of the films. This book offers a compelling story of his sojourn in Japan as a fan, writer, and occasional actor, related in vivid, warts-and-all, no-holds-barred fashion.

In his days working for Fangoria magazine, Norman met and interviewed Godzilla suit actors Haruo Nakajima and Kenpachiro Satsuma. His profiles of these gentlemen reveal their distinct personalities and philosophies with unprecedented candor, and it's this candid, sometimes blunt approach that defines the tone for the rest of the book.
Eventually, Norman befriended film director Shusuke Kaneko (who provides the foreword for the book), which, not altogether surprisingly, served to open doors to the Japanese film industry that had previously been closed to western writers. His on-set experiences during the filming of Gamera III: Revenge of Iris provided him with unprecedented insight into the world of Japanese moviemaking—daikaiju films in particular, but also in the greater picture. His rendering of the sights, smells, sounds, and moods of his experiences aren't just vivid; they are immersive.
From that initial serendipity, Norman's industry contacts snowballed, often with director Kaneko serving as facilitator. It wasn't long before he found himself on the sets of the Godzilla: Millennium, Godzilla vs. Megaguirus, and Godzilla - Mothra - King Ghidorah, meeting such renowned industry figures as producer Shogo Tomiyama (who seemed to "politely" tolerate his presence), monster suit maker Shinichi Wakasa, director Masaaki Tezuka, and many, many others. Once again, his impressions of these individuals, as painted in his prose, are not whitewashed or glamorized; these are real people doing real jobs, sometimes brilliantly, sometimes less so.
Needless to say, a journal as personal as this one, bringing day-to-day experiences and interactions into stark focus, showcases countless moments of bizarre levity, moments where you really wish you could have stood in the author's shoes, and a few genuine "what-the-hell-were-you-thinking-Norman?" moments. One thing is certain: few, if any of us will ever be able to spend day after day on daikaiju movie sets, up close and personal with our favorite (and sometimes unfavorite) monsters and human personalities. Truly, days such as those Norman chronicles are now gone. Whatever commonalities filmmaking of 20-plus years ago might have with today's, Norman's experiences were and are unique, and his voice in this book is one that any fan of giant movie monsters (or Japanese movies in general) should desperately want to hear.
Behind the Kaiju Curtain: A Journey onto Japan's Biggest Film Sets is available at Amazon.com here .

Bushwhacking, Raining, Wining, and Braining

Friday was my last day of full-time work, at least at The Mailbox. Our boss, Sharon, put together a nice Zoom presentation featuring photos of her ten favorite Mark Moments, which I think we all enjoyed. It certainly hit some of the high points from the day job over all these many years. The idea of retirement hasn't really sunk in yet, since tomorrow would have been just another day back at work, and now it won't.

Friday evening, Brugger and I rode up to Martinsville and met friends Samaire and Stephen at La Plazita , a relatively new Mexican restaurant in Uptown Martinsville. The food was pretty good, the service a little less brag-worthy. Stephen said it's been much better on their previous visits, so I'm sure I'll give the place another try before long. Afterward, we retired to Pleasant Hill, where we put our heads together to come up with some ideas for the upcoming release of my collection, Fugue Devil: Resurgence, which Samaire's company, Black Raven Books , is set to release in the spring. We didn't knock off till sometime in the wee hours, but it was both productive and enjoyable.
Yesterday, Ms. B. and I headed down to Autumn Creek Vineyards , where we met friends Terry & Beth for wine and picnicking. The new owners of Autumn Creek — David & Laura — made us feel very welcome, which we appreciated. The wine is decent; North Carolina wine, to be sure, but decent.
This morning, the usual Sunday geocaching gathering of the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars — Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob), and Old Rodan (a.k.a. me) — appeared questionable, given an ominous weather forecast and Natalie not feeling tip-top. However, it wasn't raining at our regular meeting time, and Natalie said she felt better, so off we went, this time to several destinations in and around Winston-Salem. We sought several along the Salem Creek Greenway , all of which were fun, particularly since no rain was falling at the time. Just above, you see me at a cache called " You Shall Not Cross! " ( GC9N9HQ ). I did kind of want to cross, but since the remains of the old bridge are blocked off, I just opted to stand there for a while.
After that, we snagged a couple of other random caches and then headed to the Muddy Creek Greenway , a few miles west of town. By now, splatters of rain had begun, and once on the trail, it began coming down in earnest. Did this dissuade us? No, because we are tenacious (though I've heard some folks of our acquaintance use any number of other descriptors). We had a fairly long hike ahead of us — about three miles round trip — but we managed to make it somewhat longer and far more difficult. After finding two of our three target caches, we failed to look closely enough at the map to determine that bushwhacking to the next cache without backtracking to the greenway was actually a bad... BAD... idea. The river, we learned, is of considerable breadth and quite in the way. Apart from the plummeting temperature and increasing downpour, we now had dense, tangled woods and lots of deep muckity-muck to complicated our journey. This ended up adding a couple of extra miles of hiking before we could get back on the greenway and backtrack. I'm sure the extra workout in the cold and rain did us a spot of good, don't you think?
It wasn't necessarily fun, but at the end of the day, most gratifying.
This coming week, I plan to put in significant work on my current Ameri-Scares novel and, hopefully, start plotting a new novel for grown-ups. It feels like high time.
Onward. Big honking railroad bridge over the Salem Creek Greenway I've not been this wet since the last time we hiked 5.4 miles in a downpour. Some call us tenacious.
Some call us other things.

Braining, Wining, Raining, and Bushwhacking

Friday was my last day of full-time work, at least at The Mailbox. Our boss, Sharon, put together a nice Zoom presentation featuring photos of her ten favorite Mark Moments, which I think we all enjoyed. It certainly hit some of the high points from the day job over all these many years. The idea of retirement hasn't really sunk in yet, since tomorrow would have been just another day back at work, and now it won't. And that is that.

Friday evening, Brugger and I rode up to Martinsville and met friends Samaire and Stephen at La Plazita , a relatively new Mexican restaurant in Uptown Martinsville. The food was pretty good, the service a little less brag-worthy. Stephen said it's been much better on their previous visits, so I'm sure I'll give them another try before long. Afterward, we all retired to Pleasant Hill, where we all put our heads together to come up with some ideas for the upcoming release of my collection, Fugue Devil: Resurgence, which Samaire's company, Black Raven Books , will be releasing in the spring. We didn't knock off till sometime in the wee hours, but it was both productive and enjoyable.
Yesterday, Ms. B. and I headed down to Autumn Creek Vineyards , where we met friends Terry & Beth for wine and picnicking. The new owners of Autumn Creek — David & Laura — made us feel very welcome, which we appreciated. The wine is decent; it's North Carolina wine, to be sure, but decent.
This morning, the usual Sunday geocaching gathering of the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars — Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob), and Old Rodan (a.k.a. me) — appeared questionable, given an ominous weather forecast and Natalie not feeling tip-top. However, it wasn't raining at our regular meeting time, and Natalie said she felt better, so off we went, this time to several destinations in and around Winston-Salem. We sought several along the Salem Creek Greenway , all of which were fun, particularly since no rain was falling at the time. Just above, you see me at a cache called " You Shall Not Cross! " ( GC9N9HQ ). I did kind of want to cross, but since the remains of the old bridge are blocked off, I just opted to stand there for a while.
After that, we snagged a couple of other random caches and then headed to the Muddy Creek Greenway , a few miles west of town. By now, splatters of rain had begun, and once on the trail, it began coming down in earnest. Did this dissuade us? No, because we are tenacious (though I've heard some folks of our acquaintance use any number of other descriptors). We had a fairly long hike ahead of us — about three miles round trip — but we managed to make it somewhat longer and far more difficult. After finding two of our three target caches, we failed to look closely enough at the map to determine that bushwhacking to the next cache without backtracking to the greenway was actually a bad... BAD... idea. The river, we learned, is of considerable breadth and quite in the way. Apart from the plummeting temperature and increasing downpour, we now had dense, tangled woods and lots of deep muckity-muck to complicated our journey. This ended up adding a couple of extra miles of hiking before we could get back on the greenway and backtrack. I'm sure the extra workout in the cold and rain did us a spot of good, don't you think?
It wasn't necessarily fun, but at the end of the day, most gratifying.
This coming week, I plan to put in significant work on my current Ameri-Scares novel and, hopefully, start plotting a new novel for grown-ups. It feels like high time.
Onward. Big honking railroad bridge over the Salem Creek Greenway I've not been this wet since the last time we hiked 5.4 miles in a downpour. Some call us tenacious.
Some call us other things.

Geo Chillin’

Nice view of the small lake at Fearrington Village, near Chapel Hill, NC It was a cold weekend for geocaching, though — thankfully — a tad less bitter than last weekend. On Saturday, I headed after the second of friend Rhodorooter’s (a.k.a. Dave’s) fairly extensive multi caches in Mayodan, NC, just down the highway a few miles. This one — tbbiker 10K Tribute Multi Cache ( GC9KVF9 ) — pays tribute to friend tbbiker (a.k.a. Todd) and takes the hunter to five locations around town, several at local cemeteries, which I always find enjoyable. The calculations necessary to acquire the coordinates to each stage are kind of a pain in the ass, especially when you’re shivering, but that’s fairly typical of this rightly evil cache owner. In the end, I solved the puzzles, made the find, and earned a smiley. That’s what it’s all about anyway.

This morning, Three Old Farts — Old Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob), and Old Rodan (old me) — set out for Fearrington Village by way of Chapel Hill. Our primary target was an Adventure Lab cache called Gardens & Green Spaces of Fearrington Village , which took us to five different locations around Fearrington. A lovely little area this is, with some attractive residential areas, numerous shops, and a handful of dining establishments. Our gang had visited Fearrington a few years ago to snag the caches there at the time, so it was nice to have some newer ones to go after. We got in considerable walking, which was good thing, since we ended up having big honking burgers for lunch at a pub called Town Hall , a short distance up the road from the village. Big honking good burgers, I might add.
Coming up, I’ll be looking at my last full week of work at The Mailbox, which I expect to be bittersweet. Beyond that, a lot of unknowns, but the one thing I’m certain of is that I will not be bored. A bit of ice atop the stream that flows through the village
Big bugs