Anyone who has set off on an adventure to locate some long forgotten cemetery doubtless has at least one tale to tell. In truth they probably have scores of them. And not all have happy endings.
Mrs. GYRabbit and ol' Br'er struck out - literally and figuratively - a few weeks back to locate the grave of one of Br'er's distant kin. Something like a 2nd Cousin 4th removed, or in that neighborhood. You see Br'er has been researching his family tree for a while now. Having traced back each ancestor's individual line about as far as he can (not being from a rich, aristocratic line has many drawbacks, not the least of which being births, deaths, and marriages simply were not deemed important enough to record properly), he 'branched out' on the tree and began documenting all the various descendants from the deepest ancestor. You can imagine how many people that entails when you start 5, 6, 7, or more generations back and some relations bred like, well, rabbits!
Our destination? Double Springs Baptist Church Old South as it is recorded in Find A Grave. Now this is not to be confused with Double Springs Baptist Church Old North that seems, based on the GPS coordinates entered by whomever recorded them, to sit literally in the same spot.
The South cemetery has 18 graves recorded (including Br'er's relative). Most have marker photographs so there is hard evidence for them. In contrast the North site has a scant 5 graves recorded with only 2 having photographs of markers.
I should mention a few salient facts.
First, satellite imagery reveals that there is nothing visible from above. The area is wooded and nothing resembling a cemetery is visible, nor is there anything that remotely looks like a church in the general area. Of the 23 total recorded graves between the two locations, the last recorded burial was Br'er's relative in 1907! Most of the others petered out in the 1880s. She was widowed in 1868 and her husband was laid to rest in the same cemetery, so it makes sense that she would be buried there as well, even if the church had closed up shop by then. Just over a century later and the only remaining evidence of the church appears to be the graves.
Second, this excursion sets out in August. In Georgia. In temperatures hitting the 90s with humidity levels normally reserved for a sauna.
I never said Br'er was a bright bunny.
Third, being a wooded, overgrown site, there is a real danger of various fauna that can be bad: Snakes, ticks, gnats, mosquitos, and other vermin are a thing. So are fauna from hell. Br'er may have been born and bred in the briar patch but he has evolved past that and no longer finds comfort dealing with such fauna. Long sleeves, heavy jeans, thick shoes and socks, and other "protections" of various sorts are employed.
Arriving as close to the flagged spot as the auto can get us, we start off into the brush in search of our quarry. The coordinates are a few yards off the road, so are readily accessible.
But there is nothing there. Now Br'er has a bit of experience with these things and knows all too well that unless one is employing high quality electronics (and Br'er ain't) then there can be discrepancies of several yards between different devices and maps for the exact same coordinates. No need to panic. It is just a simple matter of following a fixed search pattern and expanding the search grid until the actual goal is located. I mean we are just a couple of fools out on a lark, not SEAL Team 6 calling a sniper in on a terrorist hiding in a closet at the local orphanage. Our need for precision is not nearly so great.
Off Br'er scampers into the wild. Bounding over fallen logs, weaving through vines, evading brambles, and scurrying up and down hills. Overall at least 3 acres of semi-dense woods are eventually covered. Probably more. The search area is about 100+ yards long (following the road) and 150-250+ yards deep.
Not a damned thing found. The whole time Br'er is fixated on the fact that there are photos! The cemetery has to be here somewhere!
After a good hour or two even stubborn Br'er is forced to abandon the search. Sweat is literally dripping off his clothing and he is starting to smell toast (a sign of a stroke).
Plans are made to possibly, maybe return in more moderate weather and take another shot at things.
But Br'er can't let it go. He drops a note to the photographer who uploaded the marker pics, relates he woeful tale of failing in the search, and asks if more precise directions to the site might be shared.
He hears back rather quickly. "You were close! The site is about 300 yards back from the road."
I leave it to your imagination the specific stream of profanities Br'er issued at that news.
Yup. A return trip is on come cooler temperatures. Finding the site and updating the GPS coordinates for all the graves is now a moral imperative.
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