Over the summer we paid a visit to the new brother-in-law in Providence, RI and I made him take us to se H. P. Lovecraft's grave.
As a pilgrimage, it didn't disappoint. The cemetery walls and entrance were made of huge, sharp roughly hewn stones (sorry, no picture) which would not have seemed out of place in the sunken city of the Old Ones. Lovecraft's grave (evidently purchased by fans and not precisely marking the place of his interment) was decorated with a mysterious key, notes and tokens like some Goth Jim Morrison.
Wandering down some stone steps on the eastern side of the cemetery you come to the shore of of the Seekonk River which is close enough to the ocean that salt water backs up into the bay and leaves behind ancient and unspeakable things like this:
As a capper--on leaving the cemetery--a ground's keeper pulled up next to us and asked us if a backpack and sneakers she found on the trail belonged to us. We said no and that we'd seen no sign of other visitors. She solemnly rolled up the window and drove away, undoubtedly to leave these sad relics as an offering to Nyarlathotep for the appeasement of the blind idiot god Azathoth.
Photos link to a Flickr gallery with a few more images.