Next Time I'm Bringing a Machete

So Saturday saw Sean and myself embarking on our second geocaching adventure in Veteran's Park. Due to late sleeping on Sean's part, we did not leave until after two in the afternoon, but it was a mild day and we were able to find two geocaches before the sun went down and we were kicked out of the park.

The first cache was pretty simple. We entered at the south(?) entrance to the park, the one with all of the sports fields, and our GPS informed us we were less than half a mile away from the cache. After pausing to contemplate a stone in the middle of the woods memorializing a random Boy Scout's uncle, we headed briskly down a side trail in the vague direction the GPS was pointing us.

It took about a minute and a half for Sean to start complaining that I was walking too fast, but it only took about another minute for me to start getting tired and slow down. We don't power walk much in karate class, unfortunately.

The GPS took us to a bramble filled spot in the woods near a huge fallen tree, not far from the trail, and we got well-acquainted with several thorn bushes before Sean discovered he was basically standing on the cache. The cache turned out to be a large Tupperware container hidden under a smaller fallen log. It was filled with the usual trinkets and small toys, and we examined the contents as discreetly as possible, keeping out of sight of muggles on the trail. We didn't take anything, but we read the log, adding a stirring argument about the temperature.

The second cache turned out to be over half a mile away from our current location, so we headed back to the main path to determine which direction we needed to go. That idea didn't last long as Sean insisted we cut across a field of high grasses and abandoned wooden fencing, but we were going somewhat in the right direction, so I didn't argue.

We discovered a chain link fence in our path, and since the GPS informed me our desired direction lay on the other side of the fence, I made the entirely reasonable suggestion that we jump it. It was only about six feet high and lacked barbed wire, so I didn't see any problems with the idea. Sean started making some bullshit protest about the fence "ending right down there", but I knew he was just being a wuss about climbing it, so I took off my coat and proceeded over. Or tried, at least. It turns out Ugg boots, while absolutely stellar at keeping the feet warm and comfortable in any weather, really kind of suck at fence climbing. After several failed tries, including one barefoot attempt, Sean kneeled down and let me use his back as a step stool to get over. He then proceeded over behind me in one smooth jump. Jackass.

Having conquered the fence, we continued to follow the GPS and discovered there was a lake in our way. Not to be discouraged, we followed the shore until the lake turned into a stream that was, unfortunately, slightly too wide to cross in the middle of February. The stream was directly in our path, so we were forced to walk until we found the bridge and then double back. We briefly considered attempting to cross the stream on a conveniently low-hanging branch, but memories of various incidents from our middle school Stokes trip encouraged us to keep walking.

Once we were on the right side of the stream it didn't take too long to reach the area the GPS pointed us towards, a collection of shallow ponds, mud, and, of course, thorn bushes. What wasn't as easy was finding the actual cache. We knew from the listing that it very small and, thank god, wasn't hidden on the ground. Scouring the area we found fallen logs, feathers, and several empty bird's nests, but the cache eluded us. We had covered a rather wide area and the sun had started to go down before I finally noticed a tiny tube, about the size and shape of a roll of pennies and wrapped in camouflage tape, sitting in the branches of a sapling. A sapling wrapped in brambles as thoroughly as Sleeping Beauty's castle. It took a delicate and steady hand to pull it out, but we didn't have one of those so I just grabbed it. By then I had enough thorn scratches over my body I could barely feel my skin anymore anyway. The tube only contained a log, which we flipped through and signed, feeling victorious.

The feeling faded as we realized we had no idea how to get back to our parking lot. One might think it would be hard to get lost in a park while equipped with a GPS receiver. One would be wrong.

We eventually found the main path and followed it until we saw sports fields. All I had to show for the trip were thorn injuries and bruising on my stomach from leaning over a rusty fence, but all in all, it was a satisfying hunt.