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This cache, as well as eight others in the “ Wharton Monopoly” series, are all regular caches. There is a logbook and trade items at each of the caches, as well as additional coordinates to complete the final ‘board game’. You must have logged all nine of the series before completing the game. ( a.k.a. The Final “ Wharton Monopoly”)
Chatsworth
From the porch of Buzby’s general store in Chatsworth, N.J., you can see just about every building in what residents call “The Capital of the Pine Barrens.” Up the road is the White Horse Inn, a reminder of what the town was when that title was bestowed. Pineys say life is different in the Barrens, and in Chatsworth they’re trying to preserve it.
“I’m in absolute awe of this building,” says Lynne Giamalis, sitting in one of the inn’s 15 gutted rooms amid the debris of preserving Chatsworth’s history. “We’re trying to save as much of the original as we can.”
The New Jersey Pine Barrens consist of 1.1 million acres, almost a fifth of the state’s land. Home to hundreds of species of animal and plant life, its miles of pine forest are broken up by cranberry bogs where the third largest cranberry crop in the nation is grown. For two centuries, entrepreneurs and businessmen have begun and ended schemes to develop its resources. Towns have grown, prospered, and died here—and some have survived.
Chatsworth is among the latter. Briefly a winter playground for the Vanderbilts, Astors, and Morgans in the 19th century, when they departed—and the country club where they played burned down—the town was left with a smattering of buildings, fewer than 200 people, and a cranberry farming industry. There was also the White Horse Inn and Buzby’s store, but by the middle of the 20th century, these, too, wound up derelict and abandoned. Chatsworth is in the heart of the 294,000-acre preservation area. With a population of 1,500 spread over 73,000 acres, it’s the largest township in the state. Recently, the town has begun to shake itself awake.
Buzby’s, a landmark since 1865, had been abandoned since 1966. Marilyn Schmidt, who describes herself as “a convinced Piney,” came across the building while visiting the Barrens. “I hated to see the old building falling apart,” she says. She sold her home on Long Beach Island, bought Buzby’s, and for two years sank every penny she had into its restoration.
Today, Buzby’s is again a busy little café and gift shop. It’s listed on the National Historical Register, and its old outhouse is fenced in as an archaeological site—a potentially valuable source of information about discarded items and people’s diets.
A boarding house in its heyday, the White Horse Inn was taken over by the town in 1983, after being out of use for 30 years. There was no plumbing, no heat, the roof leaked, and teenagers used it for a hangout. A restoration committee formed, and a fall Cranberry Festival was inaugurated to raise money for the inn. In 13 years of festivals, they managed to replace the roof.
Over time, volunteers to head the event became scarce. Faced with ending the festival and shutting down the project, Giamalis raised her hand.
“I offered to run it,” she says. “It was supposed to be a one-year thing. That was four years ago. We do the work as we get the money.”
Restoration of the historic inn continues. “We have a lot of seniors here. We have scouts who meet in people’s homes. This will be a place for them to meet,” Giamalis says of her plans.
Working part time on the project is her husband, Al, a small group of local volunteers, and teenagers from Vision Quest, a juvenile rehabilitation program. With catch-as-catch-can funding and returns from the festival, they slowly move forward. The interior has been gutted, the wiring ripped out, and plans for exterior work are under way.
For Giamalis and her friends, reviving the inn is their way of preserving a little corner of history.
Emilio Carranza Crash Monument
The "Lindbergh of Mexico, " Emilio Carranza Rodriguez, will forever be bound to a patch of forest in the New Jersey Pine Barrens.
In 1928, Emilio Carranza Rodriguez was 22 years old and a hotshot hero of Mexican aviation. Charles Lindbergh's transatlantic flight the previous year and a dramatic flight to Mexico City made a powerful impression south of the border. Influential men in Mexico decided that their country should have its own flyboy glory. A plane was built, the Mexico-Excelsior (an exact copy of Lindbergh's Spirit of St Louis), and it was announced that Captain Carranza would fly from Mexico City to New York and then back again.
The trip to New York was done in stages and went smoothly. But the return flight was going to be a non-stop, grueling test of endurance. Carranza delayed his departure for three days because of bad weather, and then abruptly flew off on the evening of July 12, 1928, in a wild thunderstorm.
Rumor has it that he was forced to leave on orders from a jealous Mexican general, whose telegram to Carranza was reportedly later found in the aviator's pocket.
"Leave immediately," it read, "or the quality of your manhood will be in doubt."
Carranza only got about 50 miles south before his flight ended tragically in the Pine Barrens of southern New Jersey, a vast stretch of pine trees and sand. His body was discovered the next day by some locals picking blueberries. Carranza had a flashlight in his right hand -- literally in his right hand, as the force of the impact had driven it into his palm. He had apparently been looking for a place to land when he crashed into some trees.
The heartbroken children of Mexico contributed pennies to build a monument, inscribed in both English and Spanish, to mark the spot where their hero had died. It still stands today, an arrow on one side pointing skyward, an Aztec eagle on the other plummeting to earth. Eerie footprints have been carved into the granite to signify Carranza's final touchdown. "THE PEOPLE OF MEXICO," its inscription reads, "HOPE THAT YOUR HIGH IDEALS WILL BE REALIZED."
The ground where Carranza met his end is as empty today as it was in 1928. A lonely road leads past the monument, through miles of pine trees. The closest neighbor is several miles up the road, the "Life Skills and Leadership Academy," a boot camp for teen criminals. Perhaps they draw inspiration from Carranza when they police the grounds around his memorial, but otherwise this is a lonely place.
Once a year, at 1:00 P.M. on the Saturday closest to July 12th, Emilio Carranza is honored. American Legion Post 11 drives out to the monument from Cherry Hill, New Jersey, along with representatives from the Mexican consulates in New York City and Philadelphia. There, they hold a ceremony for the Lindbergh of Mexico. For one afternoon Carranza is again a hero, although he might have preferred to be remembered* for something other than this.
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