I was invited to go to Frankfort, Kentucky to participate in a research project involving Forensic Document Examination. I wanted to go, because it sounded like fun. I knew I should go, because it would benefit my profession. But I had to go, because I’d not yet found a cache in Kentucky.
I was met at the airport by the doctor who was heading up the study. Her husband was playing the role of chauffeur. They were both delightful people, and they gave me a great tour of the area as we were heading to my hotel.
The most amazing thing they showed me was the barns. You know, where the horses live? As it turns out, in Kentucky, the horses in Kentucky live quite well. I was unable to get any pictures, but you can see some of the equine estates here.
As I usually do when in a new area, I went out to grab a cache as soon as I dropped my belongings in my hotel room. And, as usual, the cache was right across the street from the hotel. Below you can see the tree where I found the cache as well as my hotel, on the other side of the levee.
Moments after I found the cache, there was a huge clap of thunder, followed by a fairly good rainstorm. No more caching that day, but I did get to watch the thunderstorm from the comfort of the hotel restaurant.
The next day, the rain had stopped, and I had enough time in the afternoon to get a few more caches and see a bit of Frankfort.
This quaint street sign had me imagining a Jay-Z song performed by Elmer Fudd.
There were a couple of caches along the river across from the hotel (click for a larger view).
One of the caches was dedicated to “The Singing Bridge”, named for the sound made by vehicle tires as they pass over the metal bridge. The view from the bridge was also something to sing about (click for bigger).
My son’s nickname is “Gibby”, so I had to make a stop at this deli.
While visiting the history museum (in search of a cache, of course), I struck up a conversation with one of the curators. She said that, if I had a chance, I should walk up the hill to visit the burial place of Daniel Boone. So I did. Well, I might have, anyway. There’s a bit of controversy surrounding Daniel Boone’s actual resting place. More details here.
Regardless of the actual identity of the grave’s inhabitant, the view of Frankfort from the site was remarkable (click for bigger).
An amusing story followed my trip to Kentucky.
I dabble a bit in genealogy. The night I got home, I started thinking that, before I go on a trip, I should check to see if any of my ancestors are buried in whatever city I’m going to. If so, I could get a picture of the marker and maybe some information about other ancestors that I’ve not yet found.
Then I wondered if any of my ancestors might have been in the cemetery I’d visited in Frankfort. I started checking my records, and, to my surprise, my 9th great-granduncle is listed as being buried there. It was actually a double surprise, as, without realizing it, I’d actually photographed his marker. It’s posted above.
His name was Daniel Boone.