Searching The South

Started out this morning…

Scott — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 20:55:15 +0000

…with the yard crew showing up early. They didn’t wake me. We had a meeting planned in Rock Hill for Geocoinfest and I had to get on the road. It’s my day off from being a stay at home Dad. Started out at 8:00 a.m.

The whole plan today was to go to Rock Hill, do the meeting, wrap up Geocoinfest planning, and head back home. I rarely get out alone anymore. Needless to say, end result of rain on and off all day. It’s not so much the caching for me anymore, it’s what happens in between. And that’s why I do this. It’s great for the mind to write about what has happened no matter how mundane.

I went after a cache inbetween Rock Hill and Lancaster, SC. A local cacher in our group put out a series of five and I just need the last one for the full set. Either it is missing or I’m not as good a cacher as I thought I was. DNF, that turned into a find of another kind.

I usually sign off on this blog with “Get off the highway.” The reason for that as most of you probably know is that there is rarely anything worth looking at between exit ramps. I know there is the rare exception, but that’s the chance you take on the road.

The DNF turned into this…

Somewhere outside of Rock Hill, SC is this. This is a thing. This just happened, when I came around a curve in the road. I passed by the first time with full intention of coming back to check this out. I went out loaded for bear as it were today with the big camera.

Near as I can figure it is an airboat. A cleverly made airboat. I may have to go back by and talk to the owner and see what’s up and perhaps I can swing the chance to see it actually running. Which would probably be quite a sight.

You never know what you’re going to find.

So, get off the highway!

A post on Google +

Scott — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 01:49:31 +0000

from a picture during GeoWoodstock weekend got me thinking about something I wrote in that post.

Centralia, PA July 1, 2011 Tab B., Scott S., Richard M.

It was about one of the best meals I’ve ever had. That particular day we were all over the Eastern and Southeastern part of PA. We explored Centralia for hours and then trekked about 50 miles to a geocache SE of that area and then another 40 back to Tabs (see picture) wife’s grandfathers restaurant (which is another story in itself). The salads alone were worth the day, well the salad dressing. The characters we met that day were worth it to.

Another best meal was when I was a kid and my mother took me and my younger sister on a shopping spree and we went to every Hamericks in two states. We were starving by the time she finally let us eat. It was just McDonalds, but it was probably the first time in my life that I ever thought I was going to starve to death.

The Other Place

The other is when I was in Germany and the closest thing I had to home was a little Gasthaus above a club I used to frequent. We just called it the other place. We had been in the field for at least a month and the steak that the lady that ran the place served me was probably the best thing I ever tasted. I wonder if that’s why I don’t have a taste for steak anymore. Nothing else stacks up. Just wandering in my mind…

A Night Run

Scott — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 22:18:21 +0000

I spent most of the night last night caching. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then geocaching is…are you back yet? We’ve been waiting for you. Ready?

I spent the evening/morning with two friends, Blaze132 and -Hitman-. Both in a race against each other to make it to a thousand finds. I’m past that magical number but I enjoy watching others find caches as much as I enjoy finding most of the time. Last night was one of those times.

I am sorry to write this but c:geo freaked out on me last night. I don’t know if it was the side loaded PQ, but it constantly showed me caches as unfound that I had previously found. My find count really took a hit this morning when I realized the error. Not a big thing, but a disappointment and something I will drop a line or two about to the guys that are doing the app now. BTW, I was running this on Droid X/Gingerbread. I had figured that I’d made some mistake in my logs and hadn’t logged these previously. The live map was also showing these same caches however the caches nearby feature was holding correct. I suspect that the PQ I loaded that came from someone else affected the program somehow. Not in a virusy sort of way, but with conflicting information. Perhaps I just needed to delete the caches that I’d already found previously. Progress. What a…well you know.

Second, it was a pure numbers run. That was until -Hitman- texted us that he was in the area and wanted to get together and cache. I’m not saying that because he slowed us down, no, it was what he brought to the party last night.

When we decided that we were all going to get together me and Blaze132 decided that we would get a little bite to eat. We were right by the Olive Garden and they have the whole soup and salad thing, so why not? (BTW, thanks for the birthday supper B! G28 never takes me any place nice like that!)

Anyway -Hitman- shows up and pulls a TB from his pocket, TB29YZ2. You can look it up but this is the Key to Cache Me If You Can travel bug. And that’s what it is, a key to a cache here in Mecklenburg County, NC. We were very fortunate in having this just dropped in our lap. Plans changed, we continued the numbers run but in the direction of the aforementioned cache. Full moon, a short hike in the woods, stealth. Need I say more? This was an excellent concept for a cache and TB. One I think will be stolen and used down here.

This is what I love about caching. Things can change so quickly. I have been underground, at lamp posts, various parking lots, miles out in the woods, over Class III-IV in a boat that is rated no class, hung from my rappelling gear and YES I have found the elusive Ark Of The Covenant (or a resonable facsimle) all in the pursuit of cold hard cache. And I have loved every single moment of it. This is my mid life crisis. No fancy sports car or hot babe here. (I already have the hot babe! Nice save Scott! Thanks Scott!) Geocaching means so much to me. I wish it had been around YEARS ago.

One of the most important things about caching is that I have a whole new set of friends. We’re kinda like a messed up version of the A-Team. Hitman goes in and starts trouble, Blaze can put out the fires, I can arrange our schedule and make sure everyone is in bed on time (stay at home Dad) Watuckey can manage something and then G28 can come in and referee if a game of kickball spontaneously breaks out. We all come from different walks of life. Different age ranges, likes and dislikes. For some reason we work as a team. I call us the B-Team although I think O for Omega might work better.

Lastly, I would like to talk about politeness in geocaching. I had received today in my email a log from a finder that was just downright rude. If you don’t like a cache, TFTC is always, ALWAYS a good log for one. Why start the trouble. This particular finder had been going by the favorites option from GC.com which is all well and good. But it just goes to prove the point. One mans junk is another mans treasure and honey will draw more flies than vinegar. Besides if your out for really great caches, their out there in the woods, not along the side of the road in a parking lot or behind a building under a power box. Sorry that’s my rant for today and uh….

GET OFF THE HIGHWAY!

Out caching…

Scott — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 15:49:39 +0000

Taking off after MAGS gets home today to do a little night caching. Wonder what I might find tonight.

To take a different path…

Scott — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 19:21:00 +0000

From what I usually write about, I turn 43 today, sometime tonight I believe.

It’s weird to make it to 43. I never thought I would and the way I’ve lived, I never thought I should. I have lived life to live it. I never worried about what people thought about me, still don’t. A “take it or leave it” attitude has served me well.

Til now. This late in life and I have a six year old and a nearly two year old watching my every move. What Dad does is just and right in their eyes, I have to watch myself. Yeah, those two and their mother,

My hobbies used to be drinking, dancing, and chasing women. Now they are geocaching, reading, computers, music, etc. I guess I’ve grown up.

Drinking doesn’t work for me anymore. My stomach can’t handle it.

When I danced I ran with punks, not what people are used to around here. Besides, try to find a place that plays DK, The Cure, D.Mode, Butthole Surfers, Bauhaus, etc. around here. Trying to find someone with those in groups in their collection would be pressing.

And I am married. That puts chasing women out of the question. (Well, I can chase them. I believe catching them would cause problems.)

I find as I get older, my tastes have really changed. Stability is most important now. Making sure they’re all safe. Nightly checks on them as they sleep are a regular thing. A vigil? I guess.

The bills are always paid. I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Which, at best, is mind blowing. Never had it that good on my own. Yes, there have been days when I didn’t know where my next meal was coming from nor where I’d sleep. But I didn’t worry about it then either. Young and dumb.

Though my parents would not be proud I will tell this story:

I’ve slept in an alley with bums.

I guess it was 1987 and I was stationed in Nurenburg, Germany with the 16th Engineer Battalion in Furth. We went downtown nearly every night to party, see our girlfriends, or hang out at any number of different clubs. My favorite was a club called the Green Goose. They played most every kind of music. It was a friendly place and known as an American club. No hash dealers, just drinks, dancing, and a good time. I guess I felt safe there.

The only problem with staying out late downtown was missing the last train. If you missed that it was a 20+ mile walk home back to the barracks. To many beers and you didn’t have taxi money either.

So on one particularly cold evening I found myself both late for the train AND full of beer. I didn’t know then that you could get away with crashing at the Baunhoff (the train station, not a flop house, though on Saturday nights it has looked like one) and so I was wandering the streets trying to stay warm. Just walking as stopping and freezing was not an option.

This is also where my style of dress changed. I love long coats. They are extremely versatile. Much like a towel. (See D. ADAMS Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy). You can use them as a blanket, a pillow, nearly a sleeping bag. Always carry a long coat in cold weather. A towel if in hot.

Anywho, I was walking past an alley that felt a little warmer inside than out so I ducked in and found it occupied by what you or I look upon as, quite simply, bums. I noticed them as soon as I stepped in, worse still they noticed me. And then I saw something that I’ve really never seen from a stranger since that night. An act of compassion. There was a vent there at the edge of the alley, the source of the warmth. One of the gents got up from the place nearest the vent and offered me his spot, which I gladly took. No one spoke a word at all that night. I spent two hours there. Sleeping some, switching spots, sleeping some more. Until sun up. Then we parted ways.

I guess I’ve finally written all that down now here years later because I want to be more like those fellows. Giving, protective. Compassionate. I think I may have learned more than I thought that night. Did it shape me? Definitely.

So don’t look down on those less fortunate than yourself. They may be richer than you are.

And I think a more appropriate term than bum or homeless is one I’ve heard before. Gentlemen of the Road. That fits!

I didn’t write this for a happy birthday. I wrote this because it needed to be wrote. This is what came out when I hit the new post button and since you are at this end rather than the other, maybe it was worth reading. Take it as you will. But please go out there and find your story that won’t stay in and…

Get off the highway!

So…

Scott — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 15:39:57 +0000

This morning didn’t work out quite as planned. The rains last night kept me from crossing what is usually a passable area of creek. More like a small river this morning. Stay tuned. This os promising.

Get off the highway!

Things found on a Saturday…

Scott — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 02:21:00 +0000

I guess every dad thinks they can walk on water at one time or another.

Metalmorphosis

Spandex City Comics

Old pump

A little caching. A little dinner. A little fun. Just out having fun. Not the usual big history lesson. Enjoy.

Working on…

Scott — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 05:01:36 +0000

Getting this going again. I have upgraded equipment since last time I was here in my home blog. I’m ready. So is my new team and a couple of other guys. This should be fun.

Well it’s been a year to the day…

Scott — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 01:45:01 +0000

As my friend Richard just told me but I FINALLY got back into this account! Here WE GO!

Charlotte’s beloved pirate ‘Captain Windy’ dies

Scott — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 14:10:03 +0000

By David Perlmutt – dperlmutt@charlotteobserver.com

At 6-feet-4, the peg-legged pirate towered over his “little mateys” who came for generations to the Riverview Inn on the Catawba River in search of seafood bounty and tales of far-off coves. He called himself Captain Windy.

“Ahoy mate!” the captain would bellow, always drawing smiles as big as a bedtime story.

He’d shake the little hands, kindly slap parents on the back and guide them into the fish camp off Wilkinson Boulevard just before the bridge to Gaston County. “Go on in,” he’d say. “Sit anywhere you like. If there’s someone sitting there, make ‘em move. Just make yourself at home.”

That was Gilbert Winchester, who died Saturday at 82. With his twisted red mustache and elaborate Blackbeard get-up, he doubled as a good-hearted pirate and part-time waiter at the Riverview for 40 years.

He was also a country-western singer, do-gooder for children’s causes and host of Captain Windy’s “Adventures in Pirate Cove” on WBTV in the early 1960s.

Winchester, who loved nothing more than to make a child smile, died on Oak Island on the N.C. coast, where he and wife Joyce moved in 1997 from their Gaston County home in Stanley. His wife died last month.

“Captain Windy was like a cartoon character come to life,” said Ann Moody of Charlotte, who was probably 5 in the mid-1960s when she first laid eyes on him. “There was nothing scary about him. The way he spoke to children, you could tell how much he cared for them. He seemed to take great pleasure in seeing them smile and be happy.

“For me and my friends, he was the highlight of going to the Riverview.”

To one friend, Cammie Alexander of Charlotte, the captain “was larger than life. We thought he was a real pirate. We never called the (fish camp) Riverview. It was always, ‘Let’s go to Captain Windy’s!’”

A captain is commissioned

Winchester was the youngest of 11 children, raised in mountainous Swain County, on Hurricane Ridge near Needmore – west of Asheville.

He grew into a proud man, his word as binding as a contract. He met his wife driving a school bus in Bryson City. They married in 1951 and soon moved to Stanley, where Joyce Winchester had relatives.

A year later, he walked into the Riverview and asked Irwen Burns Sr. for a job. Burns made him a waiter.

But gradually Captain Windy (a play on his last name) emerged, he of the Good Ship Riverview. He dressed in tri-corner hat, blouse-sleeve shirts, kerchief, a red 9-pound pirate’s coat with gold buttons, knee britches and a peg leg.

A real peg leg. The captain always told his young mateys that a shark had taken his left leg.

Don’t tell anyone who still believes his shark story. But he really lost the leg in the Navy after a motorcycle accident that left him unconscious for 18 days and hospitalized for eight months, said his daughter, Betty Wallace.

The peg leg just added to his pirate mystique. As did the green Amazon parrot named Rita he kept perched on his shoulder. Over the years, he had three parrots, Wallace said.

“Daddy had three (artificial) legs, too, but was more comfortable with the peg leg,” she said. “We never considered him disabled. It never stopped him from doing anything.”

Winchester always had another job, mainly as a welder at Pneumafil Corp. in Charlotte.

For years, he also dispatched calls for the Gaston County Police, while Joyce dispatched calls for Stanley police.

But most knew him as the peg-legged pirate, not only at Riverview, but on his TV show (Saturday mornings at 7:30 just after Captain Kangaroo). In his pirate garb, he strummed his Epiphone guitar and sang country-western tunes in shows throughout the region.

With TV cowboy Fred Kirby, he helped raise money for children’s causes. And with Charles Keyes, the “Parson of the Hills,” he helped deliver Christmas joy to poor children in Appalachia.

Once in Stanley, Winchester put a needy child with cancer in a side-car hitched to his motorcycle and drove him around town collecting money for his treatment. They raised $12,000.

“Daddy’s concentration his whole life as Captain Windy was children,” Wallace said. “He loved being surrounded by children. Anytime a child needed help, all they had to do was call him. The only time he ever got mad was when a child was hurt.”