This wound up being a 2 part trip.  My wife and I have been vacationing in southern North Carolina for a few years.  While looking up things to do, both traditional and nontraditional (you can only go to Myrtle Beach so many times), I found something about Fort Fisher, which saw some combat during the Civil War.  This was somewhat intriguing, but what was even more interesting was something being mentioned about a hermit living in a World War II-era bunker near the fort.  So off we went.

The fort has a small but informative museum regarding Fort Fisher’s history and involvement with the Civil War and World War II.  We walked around the fort grounds for a bit.  There wasn’t all that much – a few cannons and some mounds.  No signs indicated anything about a WWII bunker or a hermit.  After going to the nearby state aquarium (that had an albino alligator), we resumed our search for the elusive bunker but came up empty.  Running out of daylight, we decided to do some more research and try again next year.

The following year, we were much better prepared.  With coordinates and geocaching hints, we had a much better idea of where we were going.  We parked near the beach access and walked down the beach.  Eventually, a boardwalk led the way.

As we progressed, the flies became more unbearable.  Finally, we reached the bunker, which was much smaller than I expected, and not necessarily what I think of when I hear the word “bunker.”  By this point, the flies had left, but immediately upon arriving at the bunker site, we were attacked by the largest, most persistent swarm of mosquitoes I have ever encountered.  Seriously.  Just in the area in front of the bunker.  How does that work?

I quickly snapped pictures of the outside of the bunker, the inside, a plaque on it, and a sign to the sign which I’m guessing highlighted the life of Robert E. Harrill, the Fort Fisher Hermit.  I’m not really sure, to be honest, because I didn’t get to read it.  I took my 4 pics and hauled out of there.  We must have killed a hundred mosquitoes each.  Our arms were literally covered in them.  Interestingly, just a few yards away from the hermit’s homestead, the mosquitoes stopped following us.

Robert Harrill lived in this tiny building for nearly 15 years; all it took for me was about 30 seconds to decide to vacate.  Considered somewhat of a philosopher, he received many visitors during his time as a hermit.

We learned Harrill’s grave was found a few miles from Fort Fisher (he was found dead in his bunker in 1972).

I found it interesting that Fort Fisher’s official website mentions nothing of its hermit.  Little indication is given as to where exactly the bunker is, and it seems a private group provided the signage and plaques in his honor.  Robert’s story, and his final dwelling, are fairly elusive to the casual tourist.

Perhaps that’s the way he would want it to be.

]]> http://stuofdoom.com/main/?feed=rss2&p=3203 1 http://stuofdoom.com/main/?p=3172 http://stuofdoom.com/main/?p=3172#comments Thu, 03 May 2012 18:49:42 +0000 Stu http://stuofdoom.com/main/?p=3172 Photos from May 2011

Man, was this an adventure. When a game commissioner has to drive you back to your car, you know you had a good day.

I had read about a ghost town called Alvira which was used during World War II to produce munitions.  The government purchased the town and surrounding land via eminent domain (i.e. everyone was kicked out and given almost nothing for their land) and promised residents they could get their land back after the war.  Obviously that did not happen.

Alvira was supposed to have remnants of both its life as a quiet village and also that of its military usage.  And off we went.

My GPS and map sent us down a dirt road which eventually dead ended at a gate covered with barbed wire and a sign stating we were approaching prison property.  Deciding that this was probably not the right way in, we wisely chose to find another way.  Eventually, we wound up parking in a game lands parking lot.  Armed at this point with only GPS coordinates leading to a few geocaches, we decided to hike in.  About a half mile or so down the trail, we came across our first bunker:

From here we eventually came across a lake.  Down another trail we came across two more bunkers.  One was sealed shut, while the other one was wide open and filled with random stuff.

We were happy to find so many bunkers, but by this point we were wondering where the actual ghost town was.  I had seen pictures of signs for it online but had yet to come across any.  My GPS coordinates only pointed to these few bunkers, so I was clueless.  We found what looked like a main trail and walked on it for a bit.  Eventually we came to a small building, which turned out to be the office for the game commissioner.  We went in and asked the people inside if they knew where Alvira was.  They told us the town itself was just up the road a bit, along with the ruins of two churches and some cemeteries.  We mentioned we had found a few bunkers on the way in.  One of the guys responded with, “Of course you did; there’s over 140 of them.”
We then said we weren’t completely sure where we were in relation to our car; we were a bit lost by this point (hey, it happens).  One of the workers gave me a map of the game lands that had all the known bunkers marked on it.  From this we figured out where we parked.  One of the guys was heading home and offered to drive us out to our car.  On the way to our car, we passed by the sign for Alvira (posted at the top of this article).
Once back at the car, we retraced the roads and paths the commissioner drove.  Along the roadway near the commissioner’s office, we found a few foundations of what I’m guessing were houses.  There were a few markers with numbers and letters on them as well.  A few bunkers were along this dirt road as well, though they were mostly sealed shut.  Some were vandalized pretty badly too.

Down the road even farther, we passed a few cemeteries.  The one at the very end of the road is what drew our attention, however.  Pillars and plaques from an old church still stood, though in bad shape.  Almost nothing was left of the church itself, other than some rubble from its foundation.
Behind this area we found yet another barbed wire fence, with the prison off in the distance.

Overall, despite the blunders we made (not having enough information, getting lost, etc.), this was an enjoyable trip.  There wasn’t as much of the actual town left as I had hoped, but the number of bunkers made up for that.

Another curiosity I found through the wonders of geocaching.  This was on my to-do list for about 5 years before I finally headed up to Susquehanna County in northeast PA to find it. Much like my Sheppton trip, I decided to make this a day of geocaching and exploring towns I hadn’t been to before, including Vandling, Richmondale, and Forest City.

Simply put, it’s George Washington carved into a rock.  It’s a bit of a hike to find this rock, which is along a trail just north of Forest City.  Finding the correct trailhead took me a while; once I found one I found satisfactory, I probably walked 20-30 minutes before reaching it.  There is absolutely nothing else around, so why is this here?  How old is it?  Who made it?  Nobody seems to know.

Something happened to George’s nose, as most of it’s missing; rusted nails and bolts protrude from where it was.  From certain angles, the eyes somewhat remind me of Egyptian style sculpture.  From the side, especially with the missing nose, George resembles the Great Sphinx.

Again, just trailside silliness, but it does raise a lot of questions.  Could there be more sculptures?  I hiked around the area a bit more hoping to find Mr. Lincoln or perhaps Mr. Jefferson, but I saw nothing.  Daylight was running short, so I headed back to the car.

Right by George, I found what looks like the remnants of a fireplace or perhaps some kind of seat:

Now that’s a deep hole.  This is allegedly the largest pothole in the world, though I haven’t seen anything official confirming this.  The pothole was found accidentally in 1884 when miners were blasting underground.  The pothole was cleared out and was initially a privately owned tourist attraction.  It’s now a state park and free of admission.  Visitors are fewer in number, as it seems looking down a large hole has lost its appeal.  It is interesting for a few seconds, but I found myself thinking, “Next!”

The top of the pothole is fenced off but has a small observation deck going part of the way over it.  I was annoyed to see garbage at the bottom of it, but that’s to be expected I guess.  Even though I visited in the middle of May, there was still some snow and ice at the bottom.

Archbald Pothole is just off US-6 BUS in Archbald.

In August of 1963, three miners were stuck 330 feet below the ground when the Sheppton mine caved in.  Two of the miners stuck together and waited two weeks for rescue, initially eating tree bark and sucking water out of the bark for survival.  Within a week, holes were drilled to them that allowed air, food, water, and the beginnings of a rescue.  One miner, Louis Bova, was never seen again, despite making contact with his two coworkers, and his body was never recovered.

I first heard about the Sheppton mine disaster from a principal in a nearby school where I was doing some observation hours.  I was told a memorial could be found along a main road in Sheppton.  It surprised me that I had never heard of this mine disaster before, and it was more confusing that there was little information regarding its location.  I was determined to find it on my own, so one day in May 2011 I decided to make a small trip out of it; in addition I decided to check out and geocache in a few surrounding towns I had never been to before:  Sheppton, Oneida, and Brandonville.

Sheppton and Oneida are right next to each other, and each is just a few blocks long; the mine site was between the two towns.  I drove around and found no roadside monuments.  Sheppton actually reminded me of Children of the Corn, to be honest; most of the buildings on the main street are vacant, and I saw nothing but groups of kids walking around.  Down one road, however, I saw the following sign, and I figured that was a good starting point:

I parked near this sign and simply started roaming the field behind it.  For a little while there was a path, but it served little good since it went right into a pond:

I walked across a rocky stream because I thought I saw another trail to my side:

Following this path a bit, I saw something off in the distance:

This monument was certainly not just off a main road, but rather a good distance off a back road.  Still found it all by myself.  It’s much more a grave than a memorial for a mine disaster, however.  It’s dedicated to Louis Bova, the miner who could not be found.

The Maid of the Mist is a boat (there are several Maids, really) that takes off from either side of Niagara Falls and brings tourists almost next to the bottom of the falls.  You get a tour of the basin and surrounding area as well.  The “Mist” part is an understatement; you’re going to get wet.  Mist patrons are given ponchos beforehand.

When you get close enough, you can barely hear anything over the noise of the falls.  The boat gets pretty close and just hovers there for a few minutes.  Getting shots without getting my camera drenched was quite a challenge.

Rainbow Bridge connects the NY & ON sides of Niagara Falls.

Of all the tours/attractions we took/saw, not one acknowledged this place on the shoreline of the Ontario side.

Elevator/observation deck for Cave of the Winds on the NY side.