Revenge of the Doane Boys

On Saturday I set out on a mission to find the cave where the legendary Bucks County Doan/Doane Gang hid out during their 18th century decade of terror.

(Before we go any further: I know. I know the cave has already been found. I know the Doan Gang may not have even really hung out there. I know there's not a treasure chest filled with, like, gold doubloons and stuff inside. But I love adventure and exploration and excitement, and I wanted to play.)

On a wall map at the Bucks County Historical Society, I spotted this:

And I was off!

Since the land on the southern part of Tohickon Creek is a State Park, I knew I couldn't metal detect there without permission. But the land on the northern side of the creek is a County Park, and I've got a permit for that. My plan was to hike out and see if I could find the cave, then cross the Tohickon and do some detecting.

Instead, I got lost. Like, mega-lost.

At one point on my hike, I'd come to a point where the path I was on had split in two. I took the right-hand path and, almost immediately, forgot about it.

Eventually, sometimes following the trail and sometimes just trudging through the woods, I came to the spot where I figured the cave would be. I saw a lot of giant rocky outcrops, any of which could plausibly have hidden a cave. Also this thing:

Buh?

Anyway then, as I am wont to do, I got bored.

Ace 250 in hand, I started back the way I thought I'd come. After a long while, though, the landscape began to look unfamiliar and I couldn't understand why I hadn't come to the parking lot yet. I fished my phone out of my pocket so I could check my location on Google Latitude, get reoriented, and head the right way again.

My phone was dead.

Cursing, I shook my fist at the Battery Gods. I thought for a moment about moss growing on a certain side of the trees, and about the sun setting in the west, and stuff like that. Then I decided that I was an idiot.

Still, I knew as long as I followed the creek, I'd eventually come to my car. I walked along the rocky creek bed for about a million years, hopping along rocks and, once, getting caught in a big bush (how does that even happen?).

After a while, I noticed the creek bed was growing more and more narrow, and that the great towering rock face that hugged the Tohickon was growing taller and getting closer. If I kept going, I'd be forced into the creek. Gazing longingly at the opposite bank, where the land was flat and metal detecting was aplenty, I thought about just trying to wade across, but the Tohickon looked pretty swift and scary. Also I didn't feel like being up to my chest in freezing water.

I ended up having to scale the cliff.

All I'll say is that I had my metal detector and a duffel bag filled with digging tools with me and that it was ... not pleasant.

At the top of the Cliffs of Insanity was an old trail and about a billion "NO TRESPASSING!" signs. I had no idea where I was.

Also, my temper was starting to wear thin. I was winded and filthy and hungry and my rear end was killing me. I wanted to go home. I wasn't really scared — I knew I'd find my way out eventually — but still. I was, to put it politely, very peeved.

So, in a fit of rebellious defiance, I decided to do some metal detecting.

I know, I know. I was breaking the rules. But I couldn't help it. I was way out in the middle of a big scary forest, lost and angry. There was nobody around for miles. I had just scaled a cliff and I wanted recompense.

And I got it!

Just past a rocky overlook above the Tohickon, right in the middle of the old, overgrown trail, I found this:

Also, just a few feet away, a 1864 Indian Head, in great condition. I don't have a picture of it right now, though.

Anyway, I was totally convinced that this was a Civil War pocket watch, but it isn't. It's ... let me see ... ahem:

"A WWI U.S. Army compass manufactured by Wittnauer. This is the pocket watch style commonly used by the U. S. Army in WWI and in WWII. The case is brass." (From alsmilitaria.com.)

Still! This is totally the coolest, most exciting thing I've found so far. (It's only been, like, six weeks, so don't roll your eyes at me, Mister.)

Feeling re-energized after my Major Discovery, I strode boldly down the path for another million years, and finally, somehow, popped out onto an actual road. Then I followed the road for maybe a thousand years and there, like a dusty red beacon, was my trusty old car. I wanted to kiss it. Quite possibly, I did.

The end!