When I was a teenager, Kerr Dam was a party place. It used to be surrounded by woods with trails through them that some folks were known to do some parking in. Now the woods are gone, the spillway is gated from drivers, the station at the top of the hill also gated with evil-looking gates.
Progress. The ugliness of seeming safety and regulation. The poem at this cache is about such things.
POEM CACHE CLUE:
There is no need to park where you are supposed to,
to enter a gated path like a criminal going to execution.
Wander down the grass path with the rocky hillside
on your left. Wander and watch and notice where the fence
above ends and then make your way to those rocks.
The cache is in a brown-painted, medium-sized butter container.