Whenever I know in advance that a geocacher—or group of cachers—intends to
hunt one of my night caches, I oftentimes go out walking with them. For my part,
I get to check on the general state of things and enjoy a night in the woods;
the hunters have the advantage of the cache owner being on hand to steer them
completely wrong along the way. Oh, did I say "advantage"? I might have meant
"handicap."
PHASE I
Last week, friends
Natalie (a.k.a
fishdownthestair),
Dave (a.k.a.
rhodorooter), and
Tom (a.k.a.
Skyhawk63) had the notion to go after "
Dweller in Darkness: The Missing" (
GC3G3N7), and, per the norm, I agreed to go walkies on the trail with them. Much to
his chagrin, Mr. Skyhawk
forgot to show up (shame on Mr. Skyhawk!), but
Natalie and Dave had their priorities in order. We hit the
Reedy Fork trail, the hunters seeking the glowing fire tacks that would
lead them to their destination, while I ended up replacing a number of said
tacks that had gone missing.
Stage 1 turned out a little worse for wear and needed some work. I made the
necessary reparations, and our intrepid adventurers proceeded after the final
stage. Or would have, had there been a final stage out there to proceed to.
Holy shit... I knew
Hurricane Michael, some weeks back, had brought more
water than I had ever seen in this area, but I had no idea how severe the
flooding had been along the Greensboro watershed trails. It was... severe. To
totally wash out
Dr. Zann's final resting place, the water had to have
risen at least 10 feet above the norm. Ground zero was a horror show. And the
cache was gone.
Having failed to anticipate the extent of the maintenance required, I had not
brought any kind of replacement for the final stage. So, after an exhaustive but
ultimately futile search for the good Dr. Zann's remains, we cried uncle and
made our way back to that hideous train wreck called civilization.
Now, friend Natalie, devout geocacher and fellow Halloweenie, happened to own a
few items that might facilitate the repairs of the
Dweller in Darkness,
and she was kind enough to donate them to the cause. So on last Sunday, she and
I went out in a driving rain to recreate the cache, complete with a new resting
place for the good Dr. Zann.
Thus, last night, I met Mr. Skyhawk, his memory somewhat recovered, and Dr. Dave
back at the Reedy Fork trailhead to attempt another encounter with the Dweller.
This time, all was right with the world, our valiant hunters claimed the cache,
and we all headed to a very crowded
Uptown Charlie's to meet Skyhawk's lovely wife,
Linda (a.k.a.
Punkins19) for piles
and piles of fabulous chicken wings and brew.
That was Phase I of last night's geocaching adventure. I will hereby explain
that friend Dave, not only an intrepid hunter, is the creator of several
daunting puzzle caches—a series called "
States of Confusion"—recently
foisted on the local geocaching community. Let it be known I dislike puzzle
caches, at least those that require computer time (most do). I am on the
computer all day, five days out of seven, at the office. I write my own stuff
during the evening.
Every evening. I tend to be on the damned computer
far more than I care to be. Geocaching is my means of getting the hell off the
computer and out in the wild to hunt some entertaining shit. Having to spend
computer time prior to that outing makes me ornery. Dave's puzzles are not as
bleeping impossible as many, but they aren't exactly simple or obvious. They
require computer work.
Oy vey.
During our revelries last evening, one of Dave's new puzzle caches published.
And lo, it was not far from my route home. There was no way I'd be able to solve
the puzzle on my own before spending that dreaded computer time. But I had it in
my head that it would sure be entertaining to somehow find that cache.
PHASE II
In my 10+ years of geocaching, I have been known to occasionally find caches via
unorthodox means, pure chance, or a combination of both. In an effort to procure
useful information vis-Ã -vis the puzzle, Skyhawk, Punkins, and I threatened our
friend, the CO; whacked him mercilessly upside the head; even withheld a plate
of chicken wings from him; but he refused to talk. We left dinner without one
iota of additional insight, and the CO laughing at our vulgar ineptitude.
From there, I had to make a stop for a groceries, during which time I grumbled
to anyone who would listen about the evils of puzzle caches. I figured when I
got home, I'd see what kind of forward progress I might make with the puzzle.
However, I
knew, from the placement of the puzzle cache icon on the map,
the physical container had to reside within a two-mile radius. The cache page
included an explicit hint, which mirrored one of Dave's previous hides. On a
lark, I decided to return to that particular area and examine a handful of
appropriate hosts.
Mais alas, rien. Well, it was a worthy attempt. Then,
as I drove in defeat back toward
Chez Rodan, I saw on the geocaching map
another area that might...
might... be promising, just off the main road
at a somewhat secluded location. I pulled in, and immediately saw a police
vehicle parked near just the kind of host I sought. I thought, you know, if I
were self-respecting puzzle cache,
that was precisely where I might hide
myself....
Aaaand.....
There it was! The cache! Just to be certain I hadn't found some
other unpublished hide, I verified with the CO that I was where I was
supposed to be. And so... it was done. The perfect combination of well-honed
skill, razor-sharp deductive thinking, and pure, blind luck.
Okay, so it was all three of these things except maybe the first two.
I fully expected Officer of the Law to accost me to figure just what the heck I
was doing. But nope. Officer of the Law remained parked and left me alone. Go
figure. Anyway, for good measure, I determined how to solve the puzzle once I
got home. Well, mostly. A couple of niggling details never quite came clear.
Damned puzzle caches....
Don't perpetuate these monstrosities, good people. Just don't.
