Sunday, September 25, 2011

TFTC...SLTN...NASA

This will be the first in a series of 'catch-up' posts, which are a direct result of my recent writer's block/laziness.  I'm trying to be better.

Warning:  A lot of this is not about geocaching.  I don't really care.  It's my blog and I'm certainly not forcing you to read it.

But please do.  I like the attention.

...

A few months back, I was brewing a cup of coffee at work when my manager walked in, presumably to do the same thing.  To paraphrase, she said to me, "You deserve an extra vacation day, why don't you take Monday off?"  Somewhere in the middle of my brain, surges of paranoia and bliss collided to produce a tiny mushroom cloud.  Certainly the Germans have a word to more accurately describe this feeling.  After some careful prodding to determine why this was happening, I convinced myself that I probably wasn't losing my job and accepted the offer.

A short time later, I realized that the Space Shuttle Endeavor just so happened to be launching for the final time on this day that would now be vacation.  After Endeavor, there was only one Space Shuttle mission left.  Ever, which really saddened me.  One of the few things I truly enjoy about living in Orlando is our close proximity to NASA, which has allowed me to view (from 50ish miles away) almost every launch over the last 8 years.  I know it's geeky, but there's something about seeing $450 million worth of metal, jet fuel, and raw, scientific badass that really gives me a sense of American pride. 

Shuttle launches are a big-enough deal that you have to commit 8-12 hours of your time.  You must arrive super early, find a place to ditch your car, find a place to plant yourself, be patient, pray that the launch doesn't get scrubbed, and then be part of the road-busting exodus that lasts for hours.  The damndest thing is: launches get scrubbed a lot.  In fact, this was not the first scheduled launch for Endeavor's final mission.  Could I bear the frustration of so much effort for nothing?  Is that really how I wanted to waste this gift of a vacation day?  No, but that wasn't a good reason not to.

The launch was scheduled for 8:58 a.m.  My research online indicated that I should arrive no less than 6 hours early.  I talked to some people who'd done it and they told me that since it was a morning launch, crowds shouldn't be as bad, and to get there around 5 a.m.  Lest I remind you, I live about an hour's drive from the Cape.  Here's how it went down.

3 am: Wake-up. 

3-3:15 am: Think about going back to sleep.  Argue with self that this is going to be totally epic.

4:15 am: Leave the house with camera, zoom lens, book (Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, on-loan from EyeoftheSeeker), iPad, and snacks.  I'd heard that sometimes traffic is so bad that people have to watch from the highway, so to avoid traffic I took the not-so-main roads.  They were dark and scary, but deserted.

5:15 am: Arrive in Titusville, FL, which as close to Cape Canaveral as I was going to get without a pass (sold out months ago).

5:17 am: Stop at McDonald's...think about whether coffee is a good idea since I won't see a bathroom for several hours...get it anyway.

5:30 am:  Arrive at first choice on list of viewing points, Parrish Park.  The reason I made a list is that I was afraid my first choice wouldn't be available, which was smart, because it wasn't.  Parrish Park is located just off the A Max Brewer Memorial Parkway bridge.  I noticed that people were setting up to watch from the bridge, so I decided to find the closest parking and do the same.

5:35 am: Take the LAST parking spot in a lot that isn't charging for parking.  That's how I knew this was meant to be.

5:45 am:  Arrive at my chosen spot on the bridge.  This was my view.


5:45 - 7 am: I don't really remember what I did.  It was cold.  I think I munched some snacks and played on my iPhone.  Oh, I downloaded the NASA app, which made me a very cool person later.
When the sun started to rise I took a photo of myself.  That little point of light to the right of the top of my ear is the launch pad.  I know it looks super far, it's about 12 miles, but seriously, it's the closest you can get without admittance to Cape Canaveral.


7 - 8 am:  Once the sun was up I alternated between reading and taking test shots.  I was terrified that it would finally happen I would be too busy fumbling with the camera to even see the launch, let alone take good photos.  But then I started to panic that I would take so many test shots that I would drain the battery...so I put the camera away.


8 - 8:45 am:  This is when things got interesting.  People began to flood in and I finally realized why they tell you to arrive 6 hours in advance.  This is also when I started talking to the people around me.  An older man and his son camped out nearby and were speculating about whether the clouds would be a problem.  Being the nosey spaz that I am, I jumped in with, "NASA just tweeted that the clouds shouldn't be a problem."  The look I got back was shock swirled with admiration.  Someone next to me asked how I was following NASA on Twitter, and that's when I got to bust out the NASA app.  Oh yeah, who's the cool kid now?  We watched videos of launch prep, listened to the feed from Mission Control, and for a while we didn't feel like a bunch of dweebs freezing on a bridge at 8 in the morning.  From then on I was the source for news from the Cape, at least until a million other people had the same thought and brought the app to a crawl.  Then I wasn't so cool any more. 


I also bought this neat souvenir coin.  There were lots of people hocking crap, but this was actually cool.  By the way, the name Kelly refers to astronaut Mark Kelly, husband to congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, who had just been released from the hospital after being shot earlier this year.  She watched the launch from somewhere at the Cape.  This is probably the closest I'll ever be to either one of them.  Not that I care, it's just interesting to note.

8:45 - 8:56 am: Everyone starts shuffling.  And speculating.  Specuating and shuffling.  I turn on the camera and take several more test shots, confident that I could not possibly drain the battery in 11 minutes.  The NASA app has become absolutely useless, so we wait.

8:57 am: Deserves it's own line because it felt like forever.

8:58 am: Almost wasn't expecting it, but we have liftoff.  I begin taking as many picures as I possibly can.


8:58:30 am:  And it's gone. 


The clouds didn't prevent liftoff, but they did prevent the 2 minutes or so we should have been able to see the Shuttle.  Oh well.  It was certainly better than nothing.

8:59 am: Let the stampede begin.


This is when my real smartness kicked in.  Rather than sit in gridlock with rude people for 3 hours, I decided to do some geocaching.  There were several within a mile radius, so I settled on a starting point and began walking.

The first one should have been super easy, but on this particular day it was...difficult, because there was always a single muggle nearby.  And when they would leave, another would arrive.  Between one such changing-of-the-muggles, I was able to snag the cache from the bushes, but as soon as I signed the log, new muggle!  At that point I had to camp out, cache resting next to me, and wait for them to leave.  By now the urge to pee was iminent, and I seriously considered taking the cache to a nearby port-o-potty, but it just seemed wrong.  I passed the time with stories of a vamp-murdering Honest Abe until the muggles left and I could replace the cache.

Next I headed to Space View Park, which is THE viewing spot for launches.  That's why I decided to stay as far away from there as possible.  Now that the launch was over, the place was a ghost town.  I spent a while looking at the many memorials and tributes to the persuit of space travel.  There is also a cache there, which I wasn't able to grab because the one person in the park had chosen that settle down right there.  I took some photos, used the restroom (hallelujiah for flushing toilets!), and moved on.

Next I wandered around Sand Point Park, where I left my car, now the only car in the lot.  Sand Point Park is also a dedication-park.  It used to be the home to a cache that has since been muggled.  Maybe by this guy...


I wandered some more, found a few more caches.  Here's one that isn't particularly interesting, but definitely different.  It worked very well with it's hiding spot.


My last cache of the day turned out to be very fitting.  It was challenging, but not frustrating, even though it was hidden under a rock among many rocks on a rocky shore.  I had to use some geosense to pointpoint the location. 


It also had a TB that had met it's goal.  I'm not sure of the proper ettiquette when you find a TB in this condition.  I've heard that you should email the owner, but if they care, they should already know it's reached it's goal.  Plus, this one has other options - It could go to Houston, or somewhere near Edwards Air Force Base in California, or any of the other plan B landing sites.  So, I decided to leave the bug and let it continue it's journey. 


I actually have this TB (not this exact one, but one of the Space Shuttle TBs), I wish I'd thought to bring it along to set it free.  Also, that bridge in the background is the one I stood on to watch the launch.  If you look real close you can see a crane on the bridge, I was near that. 

At this point it was about noon and I was hungry; it was time to end my journey on the Spacecoast.  This was one of those awesome days made extra awesome because it almost didn't happen.  I honestly didn't think I would ever have the chance to see a Shuttle launch from the coast.  If I ever have grandchildren, I can tell them about how Grammy Ev got to see Endeavor launch into space.  To which they will reply, "That's nice, Grammy," and zoom off in their personal hovercraft.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Team Evelev's 500th Find

I'm going to make this really easy for you...it was uneventful.  If it wasn't my 500th find, I probably wouldn't even write about it.  This milestone actually occured two months ago and I've been trying to avoid this inevitable blog post.

I've never chosen a cache to be my milestone before.  Usually I just go out caching for the day and try to take note of the one that was the milestone.  But for my 500th, well, it had to be good.  The morning of, I started scoping out candidates.  I didn't have any good puzzles waiting to be sought, because, honestly, once the puzzle is solved, I must search for the cache immediately.  In fact, I avoid working on puzzles at night, because I spend the pre-dawn hours twisted in my bed sheets, posed like a dead bug and just as rigid.

I settled on two multi caches.  The second was a back-up in case I had to DNF the first.  And that's exactly what happened, but not until Brian and I exhausted ourselves wandering around a muggy park in 102 degree heat.  I did, however, stumble across this waterproof match container. 


At first I thought it might be one of the stages to the cache we were looking for, but then I saw the Storyseeking.com label.  Inside I found a sticker with a single word, which it turns out is a password.  To "play",  you go on the website and find a QuestCache in your area.  Each one starts with a few parahraphs of a story.  To get the rest of the story, you go to the posted coordinates and find the cache, which contains a password to get another part of the story and coordinates to the next password.  The idea is that you follow the path and eventually complete the story.  The one that I stumbled upon is called Katarina, in Kraft Azalea Park in Winter Park.  I tried to use the password I found on the website, but it didn't work.  Not sure if the website is down, or if it somehow knows I want to make fun of it on my blog.

I kid, I kid...I don't want to make fun of it.  It could be fun if you're a slut for literature and enjoy having bugs gnaw at your flesh.  It's kind of like National Treasure or the DaVinci Code, except that you're putting together a short story instead of reassembling history, discovering priceless artifacts, and "getting" some girl (plucky sidekick: optional).  I don't know, I guess it has a better payoff than geocaching, because you have a goal and are guaranteed to get something other than your name on a moldy log. Meh.  To each their own.
Actually, I just noticed that there is a "I couldn't find it, continue anyway" button that moves you through the story without the password.  Lame. 

After that little discovery I DNF'd the cache and moved onto the next.  The cache that ended up being our 500th is called Pingy Head South and claims itself to be Central Florida's first geocache.  It was placed on August 12, 2001, which certainly puts it among the oldest of all caches.  The first few years were uneventful, but recently it's had more attention.  In 2008 it was archived after being flooded by hurricane Fay. The owner feared it would float away, but when the water receded it was still there, ready to be reactivated.  Last year it was muggled by a City of Winter Park employee.  He gave it to his wife, who took it upon herself to figure out why there was an ammo can full of chotchkis in Mead Gardens.  She kindly returned it to the owner.  But most importantly, it was found 368 times before me and has played a significant role in Central Florida's geocaching history.

It wasn't my favorite cache, but it was just challenging enough to qualify as memorable.  Challenging really isn't the right word, all I had to do was look up a few numbers on a sign and do some basic math.  It was better than your average PnG.  After I figured out the coordinates, we made our way to GZ, where we found a hoard of ravenous mosquitos - is there any other kind?  The tall grasses weren't easily navigable for Brian, but you could say it's handicap-accessible for the stouthearted.  He really didn't have a choice in the matter.  Walker be damned, I needed someone to take my picture.


The reason I'm holding up the logbook is that I wrote #500 is big letters...but Brian failed to tell me that this wasn't visible in the pic.  He pretended he didn't notice. I think it was some kind of payback for dragging him out into the wilderness.

We spent the rest of our afternoon looking for other caches, and later, looking for food.  On a side note, I fought off a huge spider for the rights to a cache. 

It felt like this: 

 It was actually more like this:

Wouldn't you know it?  I forgot my Light of EƤrendil.  I nudged the cache with my foot, thinking any intelligent creature would realize my vast superiority and flee.  No, it reared back like it was going to attack me.  I responded to the challenge with reason.  I said, "Look spider, I don't want anyone to get hurt here, I just want you to go about your business."  Then I kicked the cache again.  This time it scuttled off like an embarassed crab. 

Thus concludes the tale of Team Evelev's 500th find, an extremely average geocaching day.  I suppose it could have been worse.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Geocachers Search for a Different Kind of Smiley

In July 2011, Central Florida Area Geocachers (CFLAG) banded together for a good cause.  On July 17th, familycachefinders' 17-year-old daughter went missing.  In addition to contacting authorities and the media, the they turned to Facebook as a means of getting the word out.  Within 24 hours, Facebook pages of local geocachers lit up with links to information about the case.  A Facebook group was also created with the purpose of spreading news of her disappearance and giving supporters a place to check in.  In a few days the group had over 1500 members.  Many posted flyers about the missing girl at their work places and in their own communities all over Florida.  Friend of the family, Jarrod88, went so far as to organize a group to distribute flyers to local businesses.  Several of the volunteers were geocachers I am honored to know personally. 
  
Most importantly, this story has a happy ending.  Less than a week after her disappearance, the girl was found "safe and sound," according to a police statement published in the Orlando Sentinel.   Familycachefinders credit the assistance of the CUE Center for Missing Persons for getting the attention of law enforcement and the media.  CUE also created the flyers that friends, family, geocachers, and other supporters spread through various communities.  Here's an interesting tidbit: CUE has a personal connection to CFLAG.  The organization was founded by the sister of a local geocacher (Mimi of War1manandMimi). 

This reminded me of another case of a missing Central Florida girl.  In April 2010, 11-year-old Nadia Bloom's disappearance made national headlines.  A search party was organized, including a few geocachers who added their own time and watercraft to law enforcement's efforts.  Despite spending a few days in the swamp, she was found dehydrated and covered in bug bites, but otherwise in good condition.  Even though it wasn't a geocacher who actually found Nadia, their efforts were selfless and helpful to the cause. 

There are now two caches dedicated to this moment in time when a geocacher's gear and knowledge of Florida's murky, buggy swamps was worth more than a tupperware in the woods.  But if you feel the need to visit the area and get a smiley for your troubles, check out GC26RD8 and GC26QJF.   

We all joke that geocachers know the best places to hide a dead body (a t-shirt to that effect can be purchased online), but the bottom line is that we like to find stuff, or help find stuff in some cases.  It might seem a little pointless to the average muggle, but every once in a while the willingness to search is all that matters. 

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Ascending the Queen's Staircase

Brian and I recently had the opportunity to travel to Nassau via cruise ship.  There are few caches near the port, so like Highlander, there could be only one.

We debarked the ship and wandered towards Bay Street, the main strip in Nassau. Bay Street is a lively place, to say the least. Sunscreen-saturated tourists pack the sidewalks.  Busses, taxis, and delapidated cars jam the streets. Pedestrians dart through traffic, but everyone yields when they have to. Normally, all of this busy-ness would make me heave, but Nassau redeems itself with aging, Colonial-style buildings and twisted banyan trees that grow in the least hospitable of conditions. 


Our first stop was at Athena Cafe, a quaint Greek restaurant located above one of Nassau's many jewelry shops.  We sat out on the balcony and watched the activity below while munching on hummus, pita wedges, calimari, and baklava.  Aside from the nourishment, it gave us a chance to get our bearings before venturing off to find the cache.


The Queen's Staircase is located about a mile from the port, as a crow flies.  I remembered from my previous visits that this trip would be mostly uphill, but I did not prepare myself for, well, anything else.  Brian's surgery last year left his legs pretty weak, so we decided it would be best for him to make this trip with the wheelchair.  This would have worked out quite well, had it not been for the horrendous condition of the sidewalks.  That is, when we had the luxury of sidewalks. 


On several occasions we just walked on the street, as far from traffic as possible (4 inches at most).  I was betting on two things: 1) The drivers here were used to tourists doing stupid things, and 2) they would feel some sympathy towards a person in a wheelchair and his trusty companion.  Number two was a serious gamble, being that there was clearly no ADA to regulate the condition of the walkways.  You know who else chose not to build sidewalks?  Spartans.  Their ADA was called the Baby Inspector.


A few near-death-experiences later, I saw what I was looking for - a huge white tower that I presumed was the Queen's Staircase.  It was actually the tower at Fort Fincastle, but I spent about 30 minutes wandering around and taking pictures.

Here's the thing, I forgot my GPSr.  I set it out the morning of our departure and left it in the drawer where I keep marshmallows.  I don't know why.  I found it there two weeks after we got home.  So, when I went to look for this cache, I was using the "save for offline use" maps and photos, which are only helpful when you have a really clear satellite photo.  Not so much in this particular situation.  Location feedback would have saved me a lot of time.


Eventually, I peeked over a stone wall and saw the real staircase.  After much dawdling, we wandered towards the staircase, visually scoping out possible locations and trying really hard to avoid all of the vendors.  I considered my options and decided to start at the staircase and work my way back.  But before I had the chance, a couple of tourists and a Bahamian tour guide were standing a few feet away.  I stared at my iPhone, trying to come up with a plan when the tour guide says, "Are you looking for the geocache?"


I looked up and grudgingly confirmed the apparently obvious.  He told me that he would finish his story and then show me where it was.  When I told him that I didn't want him to tell me where, he responded, "Look, I've seen a lot of geocachers destroy the plantlife here.  I am the custodian of this site and I cannot allow you to do that.  After I finish my story, I will tell you where it is without showing you." 

Oh.

I put my phone back in my pocket and politely listened to him tell the story of the staircase and it's connection to Queen Victoria.  And when he was done, I tipped him, more for my guilt than for the quality of his story-telling.

The hint made reference to a banyan tree, and in true tour guide fashion, he told us a story about them as he lead us along.  It was totally worth it.  Something about him shielded us from the hoards of women offering to destroy "braid" my hair.  I imagine they regard him as some of kind of Godfather.

Then he took us to the cache.  I didn't really get the satisfaction of finding it, but I did get to lift a big rock.  Small victories.  Much to my surprise, the log isn't that old.  I guess this is a pretty popular one with the cruisers and the cacher who owns it keeps up with the maintenance. 


Here's another thing - I forgot to bring a pen.  Really.   I was getting ready to smash my finger with the big rock and leave a bloody finger print, but the tour guide noticed my predicament and produced a purple ballpoint. 


Then I signed the log, climbed the staircase (couldn't pass up the photo op), and we began the harrowing jounrney back to the ship.



I decided to go a different route, hoping the sidewalks would in better condition.  No such luck, although I suppose something can't be in disrepair if it doesn't exist.  I would like to say I was surprised, but by then I saw it as a badge of honor. 


Dehydrated and maybe a little sunburned, we made it back to our ship in one piece.  We left Nassau with our bellies full, a cache found, and a story worth blogging about.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

GPS: The Movie

A few weeks ago I was flipping through my TV guide when I came across GPS: The Movie.  The description told me everything I needed to know:
College students play a treasure-hunting game that contains a deadly mystery.


It had started about 20 minutes prior, but I decided to give it a shot anyway.  The scene-in-progress was of two British women in a dark car, chatting about something.  Ok, it's a night cache, neat, I thought, until the passenger says, "Yeah, because I'm a freaking vampire."  Wait...what?  Turns out the TV guide was wrong and GPS had shown three hours earlier.  Doh.  Luckily, it was scheduled (correctly) to play at 2:30am, so I set the Tivo and went about my day.

Before I get into the movie, I should point out that GPS isn't actually about geocaching.  No where in the movie do they mention caches, Groundspeak, FTFs, or anything of the stuff we have grown to love.  My theory is that someone (the writer, director, etc) learned about geocaching, but thought it could be improved with the following formula:
Geocaching GPS Treasure Hunt
+ Hot college students.
+ Treasure the finder keeps.
- Bras.
- Nerds, old people, fat people, soccer moms, and children.
- Geo-lingo (muggles, micros, nanos, bison tubes, etc).
+ Wet t-shirts, guns, and car chases.
+ Murrrrrderrrrr.
= Awesome-sauce backdrop for a pseudo-slasher film.

The film opens with a car chase, which apparently is the first lesson in Audience Grabbing 101.  Two pairs of hunters race towards a newly-posted treasure.  Poor college students Bob and Andrew are in one car, redneck couple Sam and Frankie are in the other.  In a display of careless driving, Andrew tries to overtake the other car and nearly crashes head-on into a car containing bickering, blond-headed children.  "That was awesome," says a young boy from the backseat.    

Sam and Frankie's car screetches to a hault and they pile out.  In response, Andrew stops his car by performing a Tokyo-Drift type maneuver.  Everyone darts into the trees.  The coordinates lead them to a river and a waterfall where they all end up soaked (especially the bra-less, white tank-top clad Frankie), but no one is concerned about their GPSr getting wet.  I know some GPSr units are waterproof, but I still wouldn't go swimming with one. 

After Bob finds the cache...err, treasure, they squabble about who gets to claim it:
"C'mon man, it's just a game," says Bob.
Sam retorts, "IS it?? Is it just a game?...Why don't you use that GPS to find yourself some balls?!"
You might want to give that phrase some time to sink in.


When Bob and Andrew go home to log the find, we learn two things.  1) Their roomate spent the night with TWO girls, and 2) They have a new treasure invitation, and it's from a fellow "hunter" who has been on the lamb after stealing a large sum of money.  After a momentary debate, they decide to accept the invitation and take of their non-hunting buddies along for a weekend of drinking, hiking...and drinking.  And, as they soon find out, murrrrderrrr.


Things get weird when they start the hike, but are confronted by a batty Park Ranger who warns them about bears.  Every time this guy shows up thoughout the movie he is louder, weirder, and bloodier.  A few hours into the hike, they find the treasure - a small coffin containing photos of a woman, bound and gagged.  The last photo contains coordinates.


Surprise, surprise, they decide to pursue.  What follows is an hour of film that includes stabbing, suffocating, banging, screaming, crying, beating, accusing, kissing, finger-pointing, and, of-course shooting (both with guns and bows).  The whole thing ends with a Scooby-Doo style "meddling kids" speech, as well as a final scene that hints at a GPS2, though this has yet to be green lighted (green lit?).


Final verdict?  I rate it a 3.0/3.0  (entertainment/goofiness).  I laughed, a lot.  That probably was not the intended reaction, but that's what happened.  It was a great movie to watch while I was cooking dinner and cleaning my kitchen.  Most of all, I appreciate that the writers/producers/directors tried to shine a badass-light on geocaching/treasure hunting, a light which we so rarely get to bask in.

Could it have been a better movie?  In almost every way.  They could have written jokes that were actually funny or dialogue that was actually clever instead of giving-in to adolescent jabbing and innane chatter.  I also got the impression that the writers not-so-secretly felt the whole premise was based on a stupid nerd-game.  It's kind of like when you interact with a young child and you know their imaginary friend doesn't exist, but you play along anyway, no matter how ridiculous it feels. In other words, they cranked the machismo and sexual tension to detract-from/compensate-for the inherent geekiness of a tech-based game.   Or maybe the whole thing was completely tongue-in-cheek and I just didn't get it. 

All of that being said, it definitely could have been a lot worse.  Overall it was enjoyable in a silly kind of way, and if it shows up on your TV guide, find yourself some balls and give it a shot.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Patience is a Virtue

I can tell you right now, I will not be posting this week.  Last weekend was filled with caching, this weekend is filled with studying for my last final exam as an undergrad.  It is with a little sadness and a lot of exctiement that I will finally complete my Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology.  I must resist temptation and buckle down this one last time (until I start grad school, TBD). 

Here are the many exciting things I have planned:
  • Adding "pages" to this blog.  Blogger now allows me to create a bunch of pages that will always appear under the title (i.e. About me, About geocaching, etc).  You know, like a real website.
  • Other tinkering of this page.  Might go off-profile a bit. No dancing hampsters, I promise.
  • A catch-up article to cover the best caches I haven't had time to write about.
  • Handi-caching (my experiences plus a little research about what others are doing).
  • Geocacher fashion and hair (I've been toying with this for a while, I think it could be fun).
  • Software (there are so many neat things out there to manage our data).
  • Profile of a geocacher (this may involve me conducting my own research, muwahaha).
  • Puzzle/mystery caches (code breaking, puzzle-solving, etc).
Now that I won't have to focus on studying 20+ hours/week, I can actually do these things.  I'm pretty stoked.  The past 18 months have been a whirlwind and I'm going to try really REALLY hard to start posting once a week again.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

If the Piece Fits

Last Sunday (while I was supposed to be writing my last post) I was perusing the Geocaching.com Facebook page when I came across a post titled Geocachers Puzzle.  It was a photo album showing about a hundred submissions to a jigsaw puzzle created by Louisiana geocacher, Sequoia_2.  Here's how it works: you email her to request a puzzle piece, she mails you the piece, and then you decorate it and send it back for inclusion in the puzzle.  It's pretty simple, but epic in terms of both creativity and commitment. 


I requested my puzzle piece immediately and emailed FTF Geocacher with what I thought was a hot tip.  Their response:  Why don't youuuuu write about it?  (That is NOT what they said, but it's what I heard in my head when I read the email.)  It's not that I didn't want to write about it, I just wasn't sure I would make time to, which is kinda my style lately. 

A few days later, the 4x4" shiny white puzzle piece arrived.  If you know me well, you know that I'm neurotic and become paralyzed when faced with too many options.  Wal-mart is hell for me...but I digress.  That's basically what happened with the puzzle piece, so I threw some mail on it and forgot about it for a few days.  But in the back of my head, the wheels were turning about what makes me unique as a geocacher that could be expressed in an art form. 


In the mean time, I decided to find out more.  Sequoia_2, whose real name is Brenda, has been geocaching since 2005.  She discovered the Community Puzzle in 2007 while purchasing school supplies.  At the time, she had no idea how this project would evolve.  She decorated one piece with a geocaching theme and showed it to a friend, who (of course) loved it and wanted to decorate her own.  Next, Brenda started passing out additional pieces and assigned a trackable number to the puzzle.  Word spread like a newly-published cache notification and soon she was receiving pieces from all over the world.  Her goal is to give the completed puzzle to Groundspeak when she has 500-1000 pieces.  Brenda doesn't know exactly when that will be, but she thinks it will be before the 20th anniversary of Geocaching in 2020.  Several hundred pieces have been mailed out so far. 

There are no specific goals/requests for pieces, but there are a few things she would like to see. "It would be awesome to have one from every country in the world...[and] it would be great to have pieces made by the reviewers and other Groundspeak personnel," says Brenda.  She goes on to say that although there are a few well known cachers she would be "honored" to have designs from, she would never ask.  I couldn't help but wonder if she has a favorite piece so far.  As you would expect, she loves them all and feels that picking one would be like "picking your favorite child." 

Another thing I wondered about Sequoia_2 was what kind of cacher she is.  PNG'er?  Number fiend?  FTF hound?  Her reply, "My favorite cache would have to be the one that takes you for a nice long walk in the woods.  I do truely love those the best."  Good answer.  I love those, too. 

Last night I unearthed the puzzle piece.  I had only one, so I knew I better have a good plan before even touching it.  I went into my office to look for my sketch book, long since buried by more useful, grown-up things.  But before I found the sketch book, I found my old juggling balls (more like hacky sacks than balls).  Twenty minutes later Brian showed up to investigate the dull thuds reverberating across the house.  Ashamed, I went back to looking for the sketch book. 

A few minutes later, I found it and started doodling.  I decided to focus on the iPhone, because I owe my start in geocaching to this glorious piece of technology. 


The first one is uber simple, because sometimes less is more.  In this case, less is really boring.  The second one is a take on the iPhone's compass app icon.  I actually fell asleep while doing the second one, if that tells you anything.  The idea for the one that became the one hit me last night, but I didn't have the energy to explore it.  It began as a very rough sketch.


Hopefully you recognize where I was going with it (and hopefully I don't get sued for copyright infringement).  A few hours later, I had this final product (click to enlarge).


I'm really happy with it.  The true stroke of genius was spotting a hot pink gift bag in my office that became the perfect backdrop.  The only downside is that it reinforced my tendency to hoard things.  Case in point: sometimes hoarded things make the perfect backdrop for a hobby-centric craft project.  Take that, A&E!  Anyway, the doodle is done with black Sharpie, and the white bits (stroke #2) were made from blank file folder labels.  It's not perfect, but it's way better than I expected.  The final step was carefully gluing the art onto the puzzle piece.


If you want to decorate your own piece, just go to Brenda's geocaching profile to find her email address.  She's very friendly, and very prompt, so you shouldn't have to wait long for a response.  Don't worry about your mad skillz, or lack thereof.  According to Brenda, "You don't have to be artistic, as long as your geocaching name is in the design, it can be anything at all!"

Also, if you are going to request a piece, please do so with good intentions of finishing it.  The postage alone is an enormous cost, especially if she has to send out 2-5 pieces for each one that actually comes back.  When you add-in the cost of the actual puzzle pieces, the envelopes, and Brenda's time, it's just best if we all respect it.  Those are 100% my words.  Brenda seems like she would be the last one to complain.

Monday, April 4, 2011

My Geo-Community

First, I will offer up my excuse for not writing in...a while. This time, it's school. I'm taking a class that is putting me far outside my comfort zone, so in order to succeed, I have to focus. Unfortunately, that's meant less time for writing. I planned to get caught up a few weeks ago when I was recuperating from surgery, but honestly, I just didn't feel like writing. I felt like sleeping and doing things that required no brain power.

Anyway, this is a post about my recent appreciation for the geocaching community. Brian and I cached for over a year before making our debut at an event last summer. Prior to that, I only knew the random cachers I had run into at FTFs and the few I converted from muggles into full-blown cache masters.

A while back I found out through Facebook that some of my friends were planning a night hike in search of a 4/5 mystery cache. I declined immediately, being that I have a long-standing dispute with all things arachnid. But like a tick, once the idea of this cache took hold, I couldn't shake the itch.

My drive was fraught with anxiety. I had visions of arriving to a collection of empty cars, cachers murmuring somewhere in the darkness, banjos duelling a melancholy melody. And if I arrived on-time, then surely social anxiety was not far behind. After all, I didn't really know half these people, nor did I have any caching accolades to boast. Adding to both fears, I got a little lost on my way over, in an area with one-lane dirt roads, moats, and a complete lack of street lights. Oy! What actually happened was much less exciting - I arrived in plenty of time.


After a brief foray into the woods to find a nearby cache, we were ready to begin our journey. We gathered in a big circle to do official introductions and discover that almost 40 of us had chosen to spend our Friday night dodging palm fronds and cow patties. The object would be to follow a series of Fire Tacks that would lead us to two checkpoints. A set of 3 tacks can be seen in the photo above. After completing both phases, the GPS tracklog should spell out two numbers. Those numbers (below - SPOILER ALERT) would be used to complete the coordinates to the actual cache.

Before you look below, realize that I thought long and hard about revealing these numbers. I do so ONLY because the owner gives them away in the hint and because I have tremendous admiration for what they've done here. I decided to remove references to the cache name and approximate area to conceal the spoiler as much as possible.


We spent over two hours ducking under branches, hopping over downed trees, and for me, blindly following the backpack ahead. There was a lot of friendly chatter, punctuated by the occasional "wait, how long has it been since we saw a Fire Tack?" and "Where the hell did the trail go?"


We didn't see any wildlife, probably because a heard of elephants would have been more stealthy. We did, however, find the cache, about a two-minute walk from our cars.


Needless to say, the conversation was swayed by rumbling stomachs. We descended on a nearby IHOP with an appetite for pancakes, mostly. This turned out to be a fantastic opportunity to get to know the people we'd all been stumbling around with in the woods. Facebook friend requests abounded, sort of. We swapped swamp tales, puzzled over mystery caches, and even spread a little gossip.

A week later we met up for another purpose - to say goodbye to a local geocacher who has since moved away. The venue wasn't stellar. We were at first crammed into a tiny room for a group half our size.


Cozy? Yes. Fire hazard? Most definitely, but we made it work until they were able to give us more space. A new cache was posted just for the occasion, which became apparent as cachers slipped out in ones and twos. A few minutes later someone came back with a small bird house, symbolic of impending travel and the home he will always have here in Central Florida. We all signed the log and the cache was presented as a farewell gift.

My experiences with my geocaching community have been nothing but good. I have found my fellow cachers to be accepting, supportive, decent people with a great sense of humor. Each of us is a unique blend of techie, adventure-seeker, problem-solver, and ninja (I said blend...I didn't specify the balance).

That is not to say we are drama-free. We have our share of scandal. We have squabbles between real-live adults who refer to themselves with screen names and have arguments laced with enough geo-specific lingo to make a D&D dungeon master clutch his bag of polyhedral dice and scoff, "nerds."

The bottom line is that cachers come and go, but the unifying urge to search for that-which-we-cannot-keep remains for those of us that will keep looking.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Meet the Travel Bug Bandit

Gather 'round, boys and girls, muggles and (number) fiends. Meet the Travel Bug Bandit.

Thousands upon thousands of travel bugs circle the globe each day. All but a few that stray into Travel Bugmuda Triangle. Travel bugs enter with the grandest of aspirations. Some want to visit every state, while others will benefit a charity, but most exist for the pure joy of discovery. All of them wait patiently, yearning for the opportunity to do something. An unlucky few cross paths with the Travel Bug Bandit.

They go willingly, begging to be moved. Any cache, any distance is a step closer towards meeting the goal. Travel bugs don't have mothers. There is no one to teach them self-respect or self-defense. There is only the goal and a distant owner who may or may not follow their progress. And so they go. First into the backpack, or maybe into a pocket. Darkness that will surely lead to the light of rebirth in a new cache. The bug is patient - it can wait a few days, even a week. After all, not every cacher caches every day. Weeks go by. Other bugs arrive, crowding the space between. A bottle of suncreen explodes, which prompts a thorough scrubbing of the backpack's contents. Hope lies in the indignities, but so does disappointment. Such is life in the hands of the Travel Bug Bandit.

It was not always this way.

Many a-cache ago, a wide-eyed neocacher discovered her first travel bug. Inside a swampy, arachnid-infested quagmire, lay a lock-and-lock that was home to GI-Wanna-Go-Caching (a GI Joe action figure with bendable appendages and a thinning layer of paint). It was like opening a box of cereal to find a slinky, or scratching a lotto ticket to find 3 liberty bells in a row. Joyous! The travel bug was posed for photos, logged, and promptly dropped in the next accommodating cache.

It continued this way for a time and the geocacher did her part to help bugs reach their goals. She even released a few of her own into the wild. This how she learned the truth about this whole travel bug ownership thing. No one pays attention to the goals, the bugs sit in the same cache for weeks, people rarely post pictures. These neat little treasures are nothing more than pieces of flair, masking the dignity of waiters and waitresses everywhere. The Travel Bug Bandit reared it's ugly head.

One day, while caching on vacation, the cacher and her boo discovered a geocoin clearly marked "DO NOT REMOVE." The Bandit tossed the coin in her backpack. The boo protested, but the Bandit would not be denied. When she returned home, she was met with insecure dogs, dirty laundry, and guilt. The tag did not mean "do not remove the tag from the coin," it meant, "do not remove the coin from the cache." She could see this now. The cacher immediately emailed the owner, apologized profusely, and mailed the coin back to it's rightful place. The Travel Bug Bandit momentarily lost it's hold.

But like a recovering addict, the urge was always there, barely in-check. The demon just under the surface waited for a moment of weakness. Occasionally a particular coin would pique it's interest - an ornately designed coin, or a super-cute travel bug necklace. If she didn't log the find, who would be the wiser? But she resisted, always passing travelers along in a timely fashion, unaware that the Travel Bug Bandit lurked on the horizon.

It gained strength with each passing day. A bug here, a coin there. Toss them in the car, move on to the next, get busy, don't cache for a while, add another traveler to the collection. It continued this way for moons and moons.

Do not abandon all hope, for this is a tale of redemption. One humid, sunny morning, the Travel Bug Bandit found itself at a tree much older than travel bugs and geocaches. A tree that pre-dated GPSr units, satellites, and even electricity. It had survived hurricanes, witnessed civil war, and laughed at Ponce de Leon's quest for a fountain of youth.

Photobucket Pictures, Images and Photos

Near the tree was a cache holding a homemade paper geocoin. It was printed with the words, "Bad Karma." The Travel Bug Bandit faltered, but did not lose it's grip.

Photobucket Pictures, Images and Photos

The coin made it's way to the car and settled in the cup holder. It stayed here for weeks, a daily reminder of the Universe's ability to restore balance (to the force). One by one, the kidnapped travelers resurfaced - one in the backseat, another in the trunk, a coin mixed in with a pile of mail, and a couple at the bottom of the backpack, coated in some unknown goo. The Travel Bug Bandit revealed itself for the awful creature it truly was. The cacher brought them all together, washed off the goo, and planned a bunch of bug-friendly caches. In a matter of hours, months of abuse came to an end as each traveler was reintroduced to its former life.

The final test came when the cacher crossed paths with a cache holding a geocoin. She thought about leaving it. Avoiding all temptation was surely a way of preventing future transgressions; however, this was also a chance to find out if the Travel Bug Bandit was truly gone. Not only was the cacher successful, but shortly after logging it, she received an email thanking her for finding the seemingly lost coin. Apparently it had encountered its own bandito. It probably would again, someday, but for a brief moment it's owner knew exactly where it was.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

New Year, New Phobia

A few days ago I discovered that I was a mere 32 finds away from 400, so I made it my goal to reach that mark before the end of the year. Like many, I had Friday off, so I decided to do a newly-posted numbers run. It was wonderful - one of the best caching experiences of my life. The weather was perfect, there were hardly any muggles around, and the caches were super easy. I walked over 5 miles and eventually I reached my goal.

We had plans to go out for New Year's with EyeoftheSeeker and his wife, so as soon as I got home I headed for the bathroom to shower. There, I discovered, a few inches above my navel, a black lump. I tried to brush it off, thinking it was a wood fleck or stray fuzz, but it didn't move. I looked down and saw tiny black legs. I gave it a little tug, but the tick was firmly embedded.

I immediately went to Brian, shirt in hand. "I have a tick. I don't know what to do," I said, pointing to my stomach, voice trembling.
He just looked at me, unfazed, "You have to take it out."
"Yeah, I know THAT. I don't know what to do. This has never happened to me before. Do I use a lighter? A match? Is that an old wive's tale? I don't know."
"Get a butter knife and a lighter." He said this with stone cold apathy.

I grabbed a butter knife, a paper towel, and one of those long lighters you use to light a grill. I've never seen this done before, but I had the impression that you tap the tick on the ass with something hot, he dances out, apologizes like a freakin' Canadian, and submits to a swift execution.

I held the butter knife in the flame until Brian told me to stop, and then I hovered over my belly with it. Realizing I was not capable of this, I handed the knife to Brian and looked away. With one hand he braced my stomach, holding the knife with the other. He tapped the tick and its legs kicked wildly. I whimpered. "Here it comes," Brian said, but it didn't. He did it again, same deal. This time he also tried to brush the tick away with the paper towel, causing it to do something that hurt very much. I yelped and owww'd and finally started to understand what our pets go through at the vet. We tried this several more times while I hyperventilated and grasped the counter for moral support. "Just get it out! I don't care!" This time, Brian grabbed it with the paper towel and with a smooth yanking motion the blasted thing was out.

Brian told me to put all my clothes in the washing machine, with extra cycles. After that, I did a very thorough tick-check and took a shower. We went out, watched the ball drop from the comfort of our living room, kissed at midnight, and drank champagne, yada yada yada. I checked the bite occasionally, which is now all red and welty. I did a fair amount of research on the subject and learned that we should have used tweezers, but whatever.

Today was destined to be low-key. I woke up at a reasonable hour, but lazed around in my pajama pants and watched movies with Brian. About halfway through Jaws I adjusted my position on the sofa and felt an achy pain on the back of my leg/butt cheek. Yeah, I said it. Butt cheek. I went to the bathroom and discovered an implanted and very swollen tick #2. The area around the bite was all red, telling me this thing had been there for a while. There's no way I missed it during my tick check yesterday, so this one got on me later. I went back to Brian and announced this with as much profanity as possible.

I went around the kitchen again gathering the necessary tools, as well as a pair of tweezers and a baggie so we could keep this specimen. This time, I was nauseous. I gave the stuff to Brian, grabbed a blankie and laid face down on the carpeted living room floor (the BEST place to be handling an open flame). I balled up the blanket and hugged it, watching Brian's reflection in the glass door of our tv console as he heated up the knife. We went through the same tap and squirm routine. Again, I whined in an exaggerated fashion. This little guy REALLY didn't want to let go. I felt extra sick when the tick ripped in half, terrified that I would now have to go to the ER and have this thing surgically removed. Brian, ever the skilled surgeon, was able to extract the head, thankfully. This tick had definitely been in for much longer, so it left a visible puncture that is very sore and stung like hell when I cleaned it.

This time, the post-extraction activities included stripping the bed and spraying the inside of my car with bug spray. We also did a tick check of eachother. It wasn't nearly as fun as the Brad Paisley song makes it out to be. Brian had the presence of mind to check the shoes I wore yesterday. Like a huge moron, I took them off and left them in the laundry room. When he sprayed my shoes, another tick came shooting out. I think (hope) that's where tick #2 came from.

The last time I dealt with ticks was when we went geocaching in South Carolina and ended up covered in seed ticks. I was lucky that none of them attached. I had no idea this is how the whole tick thing goes down. Now I get to watch for signs of Lyme disease and panic every time I get an itch.

Interestingly enough, when my sister-in-law came down with Lyme disease, I did a little blog post about it. Apparently I forgot all my own advice:

To prevent Lyme disease, Wikipedia recommends wearing long-sleeved shirts, trousers, and a hat. Light colors are recommended because they allow you to see the ticks if they do hitch a ride. Pants should be tucked into boots or socks...but unless you're a commando, that looks pretty dweeby. I don't personally recommend it. Plus, I can tell you from experience, ticks go right through socks. You don't want them exposed. Wikipedia also recommends reducing the local deer population. I suppose you could take it upon yourself to do that.

If you do find a tick with it's head burrowed into your skin, pull it out with tweezers. And for God's sake, don't twist! I've always heard you should apply a flame to the tick to make it back out, but I would imagine that is advised against. Brian's preferred method is "draining" the tick...like with a needle. Or, "pop it like a grape."


Anyway, I have all kinds of other stories from yesterday, but we'll save that for another posting.