tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28093331558555145282024-02-18T20:30:24.471-08:00GeotantrumPassion. Frustration. Geocaching.Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-55964552274363363142012-03-25T09:04:00.001-07:002012-03-25T10:30:51.481-07:00Geocaching on the LamLast Tuesday I got a call from one of Brian's co-workers saying that he was was complaining of chest pains and they had called an ambulance. When I arrived at the hospital they said he wasn't there yet. I waited a while, but an hour later he still wasn't in their system. I called his office and the other area hospitals, and I even put out an all-call on facebook, just in case he got in touch with someone. A staff member finally dug a little bit further and found out that Brian was in-fact there but under a different name. I was relieved.<br />
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When I went back to Bay 5 he was mumbling incoherently. A nurse came in a few minutes later and started asking me questions about his medications and symptoms. It was then that I realized they knew nothing about him - he was basically a John Doe.<br />
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I decided it was time to start figuring things out myself. I found Brian's iPhone, turned on the Voice Memo feature, and started asking questions. What followed was 20 minutes of Brian telling me some very useful things about his symptoms, and some very random things about Girl Scouts, zombies, and the Dry Tortugas.<br />
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A doctor came in some time after I'd had a tearful breakdown and told me the cat-scan was negative for brain damage, meaning he had not had a stroke. Bloodwork was also normal, so not a heart attack, either. They were treating him for an overdose.<br />
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We were told he would be admitted and observed for the night, but a few hours melted into 24. The ER isn't particularly conducive to sleep, so I went 41 hours without it. Over time Brian's speech improved and he got more normal.<br />
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Two days later, an MRI revealed that his episode actually was a stroke. We've been at the hospital for 5 days now while they run a battery of tests to figure out why a healthy 40-something with no risk factors had a stroke. <br />
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Today he was given permission to go outside and get some fresh air. We took it a step further and went over to next parking lot in search of a cache, which is a stone's throw from the hospital. The cache is literally 381 feet from his room, but on the way back we got busted by the hospital fuzz. Sargeant SeriousFace was not pleased with our liberal interpretation of the doctor's orders. After getting confirmation from the nurse that we were allowed outside (although not off-property, oops), he let us "go," but followed us all the way back to the cafeteria. <br />
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I don't regret it. In the words of Hot Chelle Rae, it's been a really, really messed up week (Brian's stepdad passed away on Wednesday), yet he has been nothing but pleasant and compliant. This escapade was well-deserved, even though we got a little more adventure than we bargained for.<br />
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<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSB6texaimAZyMVbi5rDf_QUVdZER3ZFtSkaP5uFQ90Hj-Sj7oh0vq3j64D_EElg5UHl_2tC2LKPEYhSLwkmm05S8XANvsVVHJuSfofmqBlFDEfHqqF8fQvVHMntDY3tQLcCPoma139sH/s640/blogger-image-794554862.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSB6texaimAZyMVbi5rDf_QUVdZER3ZFtSkaP5uFQ90Hj-Sj7oh0vq3j64D_EElg5UHl_2tC2LKPEYhSLwkmm05S8XANvsVVHJuSfofmqBlFDEfHqqF8fQvVHMntDY3tQLcCPoma139sH/s640/blogger-image-794554862.jpg" /></a></div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0Orlando (null)28.428294 -81.481001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-33754680920131957492012-02-20T19:20:00.002-08:002012-02-20T19:20:39.929-08:00Geneva and the ConfederacyLong before Team Evelev, Brian and I met-up with some friends one Saturday morning and spent a few hours driving around the deserted roads of Seminole county. We ended up in Geneva, an area of about 12 square miles with a population of less than 3,000. Wikipedia designates it as "Boon Docks Florida". The future EyeoftheSeeker, who was oddly-familiar with the area, took us to the Osceola bank vault. What's left of the bank vault is a crumbling brick structure littered with spiders and trash. Not so inviting, but nonetheless fascinating. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpjodH-zWPHn-BUFljVtlpbaowvLl6oVVCZjFYtzd2fh3LWcT7p93FoBXaO3NB7sGH0AsLEu-0w0iHyyHtWZPFzk37mJ99bAeIZbE1_Vt8Od5Rwwlm_-1do_pk5TaVPzWMlKMeWTCTYsh/s1600/1Bank+vault.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpjodH-zWPHn-BUFljVtlpbaowvLl6oVVCZjFYtzd2fh3LWcT7p93FoBXaO3NB7sGH0AsLEu-0w0iHyyHtWZPFzk37mJ99bAeIZbE1_Vt8Od5Rwwlm_-1do_pk5TaVPzWMlKMeWTCTYsh/s320/1Bank+vault.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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In 1916, the Osceola Cypress Company built an extremely productive sawmill and the small town of Osceola. The location was ideal because of it's close proximity to the railroad and the St. John's river. Osceola was progressive for early 20th century swamp towns - it had a post office, school, and commissary, plus modern conveniences like indoor plumbing and electricity (though it was turned off every night at 10pm). The town was on-track to be the largest in Seminole county; but all of that changed in 1939 when the Osceola Cypress Company moved it's operations to Port Everglades. By 1940, Osceola was a ghost town. The buildings were dismantled and sold for lumber. All that remains is the vault.</div>
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The vault was located inside the Osceola Cypress Company's office building. Being the safest place in town, this is where the payroll and other important documents were kept. Despite the populate name, it was not actually a <strong>bank</strong> vault (according to the <a href="http://articles.orlandosentinel.com/2002-09-08/news/0209060565_1_orange-culture-pottery-clay/2">Orlando Sentinel</a>). I swear when I researched this a few years ago that the door was made of gold and had been sold for cash to support the war effort...but since I can find nothing to corroborate that story, I'm going to assume it was a mojito-fueled daydream. The door was supposedly taken to South Florida by OSC, a far more likely and uninteresting story. </div>
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You can find more info at <a href="http://www.weirdus.com/states/florida/abandoned/osceola_bank_vault/index.php">Weird Florida's</a> website and in the Orlando Sentinel article I linked to above.</div>
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On a sidenote, if this idea of lumber-companies-on-a-river-by-a-small-town interests you, see <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079758/">Prophecy</a>. If there was any link to geocaching, I would write a review this instant.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizY-VIyYE-im2lao42-iIOZUnWrWrQFgQz5gRRuAobrPJRPKl-hFzOJAVh7fecdz27P_FCbi92czbWutGGk0xHYkz_CHEBGBVNIOOJqE4kJzlFpFWix-Sg9yf11uJrlspBwca8CL8TBmMN/s1600/2Bank+valut+int.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizY-VIyYE-im2lao42-iIOZUnWrWrQFgQz5gRRuAobrPJRPKl-hFzOJAVh7fecdz27P_FCbi92czbWutGGk0xHYkz_CHEBGBVNIOOJqE4kJzlFpFWix-Sg9yf11uJrlspBwca8CL8TBmMN/s320/2Bank+valut+int.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the bank vault. Not pictured: Spiders.<br />
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Fast forward to 2010. A geocrazed Evelev looks up the area and discovers a cache there, but alas, it has been muggled and is temporarily disabled. Some time later, the owner re-enables the cache. Team Evelev decides to make a day of it, first hitting the vault, and then a mystery cache series nearby. It's the type of series with separate caches that can be logged independently, but all hold a clue to the "optional" final stage. <br />
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After the vault, we moved on to the first stage of the mystery cache, which was pretty straightforward. The clue inside referred to something on the vault. Luckily, I had a good photo, so I was able to figure it out from that, rather than go back.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7HrQK67MYj4g62_FNJuyot1kYfjEHOo4-fR5s8Ycmg7oJ969IVM2I4QXi2AFwxxRyxk0ccMaqWlvaIM1NhMMSSGulHVitoByeZVh3Jpy1Y6are8bPqqB5Jipsw_L2uWUXvhyphenhyphenzxktXPax/s1600/3Survey+Marker.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7HrQK67MYj4g62_FNJuyot1kYfjEHOo4-fR5s8Ycmg7oJ969IVM2I4QXi2AFwxxRyxk0ccMaqWlvaIM1NhMMSSGulHVitoByeZVh3Jpy1Y6are8bPqqB5Jipsw_L2uWUXvhyphenhyphenzxktXPax/s320/3Survey+Marker.JPG" width="275" /></a></div>
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The next search led us to a survey marker, the first I'd physically come in contact with. Inside the cache was a clue requiring interpretation of something on the marker. I won't go into more detail than that. I didn't think it was hard, but I've heard other people have trouble with that part.</div>
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The third stage took us to "downtown" Geneva, to the History Museum. This cache was immediately visible, but extremely hard to grab due to the hoards of muggles taking part in a yard sale of some kind. Normally, I would walk away, but I'd come too far. Too far, I tells ya. I decided to use the crowd as my cloak of invisibility, along with a dose of "I know what I'm doing, don't bother me" face. People saw me, but the cache isn't really muggleable, if that makes sense. It's still being found, so we're good.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_glBYWcsQuGi71ffTIbIoA6vnl12iGJ9Wj-zkvCn9cDkRwalvbcoXRYitTQ3y4CYXNolmLosf9_8GskEa5CkuXzk5G16QkJvTRWp_le1wri6IB0nY0UhmLSW0Gx-7seLQIrdiVEvJ6_J/s1600/4Geneva+Hist.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_glBYWcsQuGi71ffTIbIoA6vnl12iGJ9Wj-zkvCn9cDkRwalvbcoXRYitTQ3y4CYXNolmLosf9_8GskEa5CkuXzk5G16QkJvTRWp_le1wri6IB0nY0UhmLSW0Gx-7seLQIrdiVEvJ6_J/s320/4Geneva+Hist.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The next stop took us to the Geneva Cemetery. There wasn't actually a physical cache there. This stop was technically part of the cache at the museum, but this is where the final clue to the final stage was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGRCNlc-VynIrwr1CNk4889_c3eySkbDXfZxvbQlTg6UsBSwG2YgM6945iXJmadnr_Syy_bKta0nXgg2gtwyzz6fIUue8o88WE2g8eALlqzNx4iEiQl_rsx1iMF_0rtihb5ES6SrjjEoZ/s1600/5Geneva+Cemet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGRCNlc-VynIrwr1CNk4889_c3eySkbDXfZxvbQlTg6UsBSwG2YgM6945iXJmadnr_Syy_bKta0nXgg2gtwyzz6fIUue8o88WE2g8eALlqzNx4iEiQl_rsx1iMF_0rtihb5ES6SrjjEoZ/s320/5Geneva+Cemet.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Geneva Cemetery is both beautiful and historically significant. Lots of cemeteries are beautiful. Big whoop.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKInYrZ9slU1TYWvk5nzViu31KPZFOPRF8Rn75KxmZZ0wYsLX641wMARu2MKmAQlJPx4UDjZjxmSiRlfse0XItlz8LZnxmWEHzVMZm-x3QwA23eb7r163C_XtbnMg97nybH4-olD1BcJv/s1600/6Geneva+Cemet2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKInYrZ9slU1TYWvk5nzViu31KPZFOPRF8Rn75KxmZZ0wYsLX641wMARu2MKmAQlJPx4UDjZjxmSiRlfse0XItlz8LZnxmWEHzVMZm-x3QwA23eb7r163C_XtbnMg97nybH4-olD1BcJv/s320/6Geneva+Cemet2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The first piece of historical signifigance comes from the fact that seventeen civil war soldiers are buried there. Sixtreen fought for the Confederacy, one for the Union. The second, and in my opinion, more interesting fact is that one Lewis Thorton Powell is among those buried there. Well, sort of. </div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(</span><a href="http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/civil_war_soldiers_buried_in_gen.htm"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/civil_war_soldiers_buried_in_gen.htm</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">)</span><br />
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Aside from being Micky Dolenz' evil twin great-great-grandbrother, he had a history of getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. The son of a Baptist minister / schoolteacher / farmer (all his father's occupations), Powell was the youngest boy in a family of 12. He is described as an introvert who liked to read and take care of sick animals. I don't know if that's take care or "take care". </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0R3-gX06Ld9HMPpHhWvSPjGwf4O5hOG-yvk1cZZCUuF7fChzgHvhhEuJyNKPJ-G1qfUpkBTAuO_fQpz8W-xLOuBCbtjsQw4wJKHHVzoWFu42HP7a6kl222yregK_HzZcqSBxF6RcENdF/s1600/8Powell1.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: <a href="http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/Powell.htm">http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/Powell.htm</a></td></tr>
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He joined the Confederacy in 1861 and was later shot in the Battle of Gettysburg, which landed him in a Union hospital. Eventually he escaped and found his way into Mosby's Rangers (known for "lightning raids" on Union soldiers). In 1865 he left the Rangers and worked his way through Virginia to Baltimore, where he came upon a boarding house owned by the family of a woman he'd met at the Union hospital. Small world, isn't it? </div>
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While in Baltimore he met a Confederate operative, John Harrison Surrat, Jr., who later introduced him to John Wilkes Booth. The merry bunch devised a plan for kidnapping President Lincoln and using him to force the release of Confederate soldiers. Their plan didn't play out, so they took it up a notch. We all know what happened at Ford's Theater, but many people don't know that Lincoln's assassination was part of a bigger plot to take out several of the higher-ups in one night: Secretary of State William Seward and Vice President Andrew Jackson. Powell's assignment was to assassinate Seward. The plan was to sneak in with "medicine" that would "help" Seward's recovery from a recent carriage accident, and then murder him. Seward's son saw through the ruse and attempted to intervene. Powell tried to shoot Seward's son, but the gun misfired, so he beat him with it instead. Duh. This bought Powell enough time to stab Seward and a few others who tried to help. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPzOBB9KKZ9w6LgVIB24d4tkBuOQY_lgCrnSRFHpf3YxXok4skGySru7VFAyZGbQg31KV-28nurDxaJFiaifls72Xil-2SphqdViPRE9CTGksddL7JTrxNXAXzmvHsGzSz7GX11sRzhMz/s1600/FSewardLPaine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPzOBB9KKZ9w6LgVIB24d4tkBuOQY_lgCrnSRFHpf3YxXok4skGySru7VFAyZGbQg31KV-28nurDxaJFiaifls72Xil-2SphqdViPRE9CTGksddL7JTrxNXAXzmvHsGzSz7GX11sRzhMz/s320/FSewardLPaine.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:FSewardLPaine.jpg">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:FSewardLPaine.jpg</a></td></tr>
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Powell fled and hid in the woods, but eventually (1-3 days later, depends on who you ask) he ended up back at Surrat's mother's boarding house, where he was arrested. He and three of the other conspirators were hung on July 7, 1865. Seward recovered from his injuries. Lincoln did not.</div>
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Powell was buried in the penitentiary courtyard where he was hung, though his body was re-interred on several occasions. In, his skull was discovered in the Smithsonian Anthropology Dept., mixed in among some Native American remains. No one knows where the body ended up. The skull was sent back to Geneva in 1994 and buried near Powell's mother. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(</span><a href="http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/Powell.htm"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/Powell.htm</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJKOdNvsnvfy36fDc6uhpaVlZQcpLchmy1-uWpCRNXRn5975IASTY0L6TIa82kZjxGWZOGV7OjynRaBAeUahNnXdDeKwzMsbG9pDu18HsdTKPCq_8ZkSuzP1Kmyn2EQtoBcqMkJoMVXWY/s1600/7Geneva+Cemet3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJKOdNvsnvfy36fDc6uhpaVlZQcpLchmy1-uWpCRNXRn5975IASTY0L6TIa82kZjxGWZOGV7OjynRaBAeUahNnXdDeKwzMsbG9pDu18HsdTKPCq_8ZkSuzP1Kmyn2EQtoBcqMkJoMVXWY/s320/7Geneva+Cemet3.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foreground: Powell's headstone. Background: His mother's headstone.</td></tr>
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Finding this headstone wasn't actually part of the mystery cache. After I'd found what I needed (dates on other headstones that completed a short story from the CO's family history), I remembered that EyeoftheSeeker had mentioned this story about the Lincoln conspirators and the Geneva Cemetery. A few minutes of googling provided the name (thank you, iPhone), and a few more minutes of plain old searching led me to the grave. Come to think of it, I'm surprised this wasn't part of the challenge, but I'm glad took that extra step.</div>
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Having completed the first three caches in the series, I now had the coordinates to the final stage. We drove to the area, but I still had about a mile to go to the cache. I told Brian I would be quick, and the walk would probably take about 30 minutes round trip. I promised him a visit to Sonny's upon my return.</div>
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I set out on the trails a little blind because the satellite photo on my phone didn't show the paths. I decided to just head in the general direction and about 15 minutes later I was leaving the path to do a tiny bit of bushwhacking. I found the cache right away.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhk9tiBkGYAk-9pDlWz6KJ-4Yqq3ZNvJyRvgFxBkq13ohjT-1jnY6xZ2zGhWW3146h-Bo5VIKbiet8laLXeftqsb0jXf5SNkSwupDatqtnSwCRrDE2RH1E0X4YbnBIX70lEM27TFk3o2cI/s1600/9CWM+Final.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhk9tiBkGYAk-9pDlWz6KJ-4Yqq3ZNvJyRvgFxBkq13ohjT-1jnY6xZ2zGhWW3146h-Bo5VIKbiet8laLXeftqsb0jXf5SNkSwupDatqtnSwCRrDE2RH1E0X4YbnBIX70lEM27TFk3o2cI/s320/9CWM+Final.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As if a genie had popped out of the cache, I found myself with three rewards. The first was being STF behind Parkhoppers, two months after publishing. This wasn't intentional, but the cache takes so much time and effort that it just doesn't get a lot of visits (to date: 13 finders, over a year after publication). My second reward was a few photocopies of Confederate money, provided by the CO as a reward for solving the puzzles. Third, I got to trade for a civil war bullet, donated by Parkhoppers. I googled an approximate value and left several things (first aid kits, I think) to make an even trade.</div>
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The urge for sweet tea growing, I texted Brian and started to make my way back. In my delirium, I took a wrong turn. I was never really lost, but I took much longer to get back than I anticipated. His panic was intensified by autocorrect, which <em>corrected</em> "fine" to "gone," changing the whole context of the situation. You can read the text exchange below.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOYwjxEdqLDCKtbUy7c425xJdzeCATFlonsAuZow3Nxlh0dr5uRB_6VWaxerhKiNiSf03z4JDhVll2VjgrdR8w-ASedQQ0db_A8bwj0rNsQ_Nas7j_GlZqETfyJi9kLA_nOl0TlmHmD4f/s1600/10chat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOYwjxEdqLDCKtbUy7c425xJdzeCATFlonsAuZow3Nxlh0dr5uRB_6VWaxerhKiNiSf03z4JDhVll2VjgrdR8w-ASedQQ0db_A8bwj0rNsQ_Nas7j_GlZqETfyJi9kLA_nOl0TlmHmD4f/s640/10chat.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
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I did get back about 10 minutes later, but Brian was a wreck. I would like to say I apologized, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't. We were both tired and hangry (sic), so the next stop was for barbeque and cornbread. A satisfyingly sticky end to a savory trip through local history.</div>
<br />
Sources<br />
<a href="http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/civil_war_soldiers_buried_in_gen.htm">http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/civil_war_soldiers_buried_in_gen.htm</a><br />
<a href="http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/Powell.htm">http://www.usgennet.org/usa/fl/county/seminole/Geneva/Powell.htm</a><br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geneva,_Florida">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geneva,_Florida</a><br />
<a href="http://articles.orlandosentinel.com/2002-09-08/news/0209060565_1_orange-culture-pottery-clay">http://articles.orlandosentinel.com/2002-09-08/news/0209060565_1_orange-culture-pottery-clay</a><br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_H._Seward#Assassination_Attempt">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_H._Seward#Assassination_Attempt</a>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-12748955095338809112012-01-10T19:25:00.000-08:002012-01-10T19:26:24.781-08:00Evelev is not retired<div style="text-align: justify;">Just tired, I suppose. It started with a pretty grueling, if productive and successful, period at work that basically took over my life. I stopped running, cooking, vacuuming, and geocaching. Add to that some personal / family drama, and a once active Evelev (remember when I used to post every week?) turned into a carboloading, couch potatoing, workaholicking Ev. Pour one out for your homie.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My life as a geocacher has moved into a new phase. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>I'm over PnG's.</strong> They're fun sometimes, but I don't get the thrill anymore. If I have to spend more than 5 minutes looking for a 1/1 (especially if it's in a shrub or palm), I walk away. I just don't care enough to waste my time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>FTFs are a load of bullshit.</strong> I was never a hound, but I experienced my share of excitement. The burbly feeling in my stomach when I approached GZ. The bitter defeat when someone beat me to it. On more than one occasion I ran out of the house without make-up or proper undergarments. I shuffled through weeds and dirt in heels and a skirt. So that I could be the first one to sign my name on a blank sheet of paper? I just turned off my new cache notifications. It occured to me last night, when I received one such notification 0.6 miles from my house, that I just don't care. I shall happy-dance no more.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Challenging and otherwise-creative caches are the only things keeping me in it.</strong> They are the soul of geocaching. Why waste my time lifting up spidery light skirts when I could be crossing log bridges like a stocky (but pretty) Indiana Jones? Why?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've recently turned my attention to puzzle caches. I've always enjoyed puzzles (pre-geocaching), but having a little prize to go seek afterward? Yes, please. In fact, just recently I spent a few days with my Dad. We only get to see each other once every few years, but we spent hours (HOURS!) almost every day working on a 4.5 difficulty puzzle. Never did solve it. In the interest of full disclosure, the cache still hasn't been found. There was a little FTF-glory driving my efforts, but I was more motivated by being the first one to solve the puzzle, as opposed to being the first one to find the cache.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I still have plenty to write about, just haven't gotten to it yet. Stories and photos are forthcoming.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In sum, meh. </div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-64333412159663816352011-09-25T17:25:00.000-07:002011-09-26T04:23:34.860-07:00TFTC...SLTN...NASAThis 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
But please do. I like the attention.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <em>why</em> this was happening, I convinced myself that I probably wasn't losing my job and accepted the offer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <strong>a lot</strong>. 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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">3 am: Wake-up. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">3-3:15 am: Think about going back to sleep. Argue with self that this is going to be totally epic.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">5:45 am: Arrive at my chosen spot on the bridge. This was my view.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzaSMBNdqVYF_-eYdpD9UqQaTmwGegAxkJZqRqGcsjOnULW_pL-qdupbxi-GGTClSCUWYB96T77cfKwzmdrAjOf8nS55nqEiFd0c8YfI93qjxVgwQbMiyFygLl-BalzYd7BmVPVEIvkS7/s1600/a-IMG_1870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEzaSMBNdqVYF_-eYdpD9UqQaTmwGegAxkJZqRqGcsjOnULW_pL-qdupbxi-GGTClSCUWYB96T77cfKwzmdrAjOf8nS55nqEiFd0c8YfI93qjxVgwQbMiyFygLl-BalzYd7BmVPVEIvkS7/s320/a-IMG_1870.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQU92FCDYTKWU4cyksSg7U0ec41e413AkOuyatg3a-qdrrG0gJbM16Qc0bV_LoVSm1Lh-t2qga9myiEpq1tj5MQN903xu-w5YAmsONuhVtA0v1iCnx78Dbor2oXOysUfc46II0CA-Iq-Fw/s1600/IMG_3417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQU92FCDYTKWU4cyksSg7U0ec41e413AkOuyatg3a-qdrrG0gJbM16Qc0bV_LoVSm1Lh-t2qga9myiEpq1tj5MQN903xu-w5YAmsONuhVtA0v1iCnx78Dbor2oXOysUfc46II0CA-Iq-Fw/s320/IMG_3417.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBaFYxPOQZvGmglCAtbiYBj9IqR72tDIcuUhBZeQUlJrwA0AzHkrLkPA8bsNz9dR4GjjVhrzMiehJvwL1k4Je9emNT6Kv0p_urLS0F9xPJ77LI_2iKQdVE1-h6RuNqLKvA5P9Vl3G6PrY/s1600/ia-IMG_1893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBaFYxPOQZvGmglCAtbiYBj9IqR72tDIcuUhBZeQUlJrwA0AzHkrLkPA8bsNz9dR4GjjVhrzMiehJvwL1k4Je9emNT6Kv0p_urLS0F9xPJ77LI_2iKQdVE1-h6RuNqLKvA5P9Vl3G6PrY/s320/ia-IMG_1893.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <em>the</em> 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. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieE9hSKZJ2PVS6sXfK3vFBrYJB83a6qUN7O5pHQyCxwjHYxAK6eV0P5FwH4nj_OWyl1VBcEhEfsijl0rAf_DKdJ-oQIK1pfjwUKNAgBvQ-Lh68zTy_0hzWytlt_g0UoGK57iL2CmVNESZy/s1600/IMG_3418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieE9hSKZJ2PVS6sXfK3vFBrYJB83a6qUN7O5pHQyCxwjHYxAK6eV0P5FwH4nj_OWyl1VBcEhEfsijl0rAf_DKdJ-oQIK1pfjwUKNAgBvQ-Lh68zTy_0hzWytlt_g0UoGK57iL2CmVNESZy/s320/IMG_3418.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">8:57 am: Deserves it's own line because it felt like forever.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">8:58 am: Almost wasn't expecting it, but we have liftoff. I begin taking as many picures as I possibly can. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRt6bUfPZKabrGmZwPLSNgVjQO7eGHEH0WCyZsMmBJDaDOj2MLdRpwWDuj0XyFUBub2YmiBtxdpd7ZNb21tlDyKgd8TPwdAsIHElo6aNN0F7t7S3n4or3KR3Sc5P7DQrNri725yXK3zDj/s1600/m-IMG_0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRt6bUfPZKabrGmZwPLSNgVjQO7eGHEH0WCyZsMmBJDaDOj2MLdRpwWDuj0XyFUBub2YmiBtxdpd7ZNb21tlDyKgd8TPwdAsIHElo6aNN0F7t7S3n4or3KR3Sc5P7DQrNri725yXK3zDj/s320/m-IMG_0049.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
8:58:30 am: And it's gone. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkpVIzaPWIFETXhBbhBhisTEfQqufnRf43dnFx8KjkSzm0OPjZ_t61TUQ2CnELmF9JK811UwGpfMKIzh7zuWIreJPZO0R-LhVqpxw34bMSz_xjOiVC1eeUqaxjVuiYDs5m_b8ZaYTm-vD/s1600/r-IMG_0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkpVIzaPWIFETXhBbhBhisTEfQqufnRf43dnFx8KjkSzm0OPjZ_t61TUQ2CnELmF9JK811UwGpfMKIzh7zuWIreJPZO0R-LhVqpxw34bMSz_xjOiVC1eeUqaxjVuiYDs5m_b8ZaYTm-vD/s320/r-IMG_0062.JPG" width="261px" /></a></div><br />
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.<br />
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8:59 am: Let the stampede begin.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy69JrfAELO8WuvRtcpBjxloMNNXsWBGh6UK2TUpxY63EfDi6ourzsVtEl_-EJDDK_QRoaywejsJbbWt5Z9IHaw0eo_tX1AzxUaUQCZcw0ixWldzM9AL4Rq3AO8k6bVzDCWyG02YZmQRH9/s1600/v-IMG_1960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy69JrfAELO8WuvRtcpBjxloMNNXsWBGh6UK2TUpxY63EfDi6ourzsVtEl_-EJDDK_QRoaywejsJbbWt5Z9IHaw0eo_tX1AzxUaUQCZcw0ixWldzM9AL4Rq3AO8k6bVzDCWyG02YZmQRH9/s320/v-IMG_1960.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujsK-sHqTJf1H0G9jf_b5wTWGU2ZeyOdrp-vF33Htbtjo3UlNOqLHhUkWT5WPP-XRd_mP_itFxu3b2ziBh8MIDpzy5RARtoMf5fyzafVk48GM08bsinQ6XRAagjgb8FueeYE2tqIr1bjR/s1600/IMG_0069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujsK-sHqTJf1H0G9jf_b5wTWGU2ZeyOdrp-vF33Htbtjo3UlNOqLHhUkWT5WPP-XRd_mP_itFxu3b2ziBh8MIDpzy5RARtoMf5fyzafVk48GM08bsinQ6XRAagjgb8FueeYE2tqIr1bjR/s320/IMG_0069.JPG" width="273px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOu202-2TnuFW_6FtnliS98SOVHddD-3lNP7gYNC5PGpld1Mlzy2xyKIzRHNLigE4uDeTmjTdPlAfpeOX1EabxYA5GEIkls8NyHqflb5WZk4RYJLS5aESIA03pb8XlWFumRhgpdDY4oiH/s1600/IMG_3422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOu202-2TnuFW_6FtnliS98SOVHddD-3lNP7gYNC5PGpld1Mlzy2xyKIzRHNLigE4uDeTmjTdPlAfpeOX1EabxYA5GEIkls8NyHqflb5WZk4RYJLS5aESIA03pb8XlWFumRhgpdDY4oiH/s320/IMG_3422.JPG" width="239px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_SXHy_BM3xc0iSdTUGMWGmWFEPmhG0iBwGYB5jNFuFOWJ-mA8F4h0oqglBXdIBGs1sCR37UVlFGuMKXTWoVdWlLHTlLc8Heu38TvmE8yNqAfOepNN7auiFUrAtoJW0YDN5dkTkjlSH1l/s1600/IMG_3426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_SXHy_BM3xc0iSdTUGMWGmWFEPmhG0iBwGYB5jNFuFOWJ-mA8F4h0oqglBXdIBGs1sCR37UVlFGuMKXTWoVdWlLHTlLc8Heu38TvmE8yNqAfOepNN7auiFUrAtoJW0YDN5dkTkjlSH1l/s320/IMG_3426.JPG" width="239px" /></a></div><br />
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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_space_shuttle_landing_runways">plan B landing sites</a>. So, I decided to leave the bug and let it continue it's journey. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6BRouj-k1m_PhMPXR5pIo-DgEwjg1veIBeAAzUjJqD0aaYhFUZQPC8G33FUQIhGLFseJqHeH9sVotN74-1hktoAjMQdZVK62Ujb_OubDF0O_Lh5mhlhDHxB4OLpW8js8Ah34Z6j87jfY/s1600/IMG_3424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6BRouj-k1m_PhMPXR5pIo-DgEwjg1veIBeAAzUjJqD0aaYhFUZQPC8G33FUQIhGLFseJqHeH9sVotN74-1hktoAjMQdZVK62Ujb_OubDF0O_Lh5mhlhDHxB4OLpW8js8Ah34Z6j87jfY/s320/IMG_3424.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-87044501785148378912011-09-18T05:55:00.000-07:002011-09-18T06:01:13.356-07:00Team Evelev's 500th Find<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJYllPyGHwIjCJv_IUxa0o1kgk05w7InwXXuwayUqzmcLqQzR2DitnOo8Qim0bQ7ics7Jy3rsmAXlf0y1FSwD65tKFVU4LtfyfZQ2W-x7imQfzI8HJ2_BRHAYr6gG7vhq5Ltt5-dx_P2K/s1600/storyseeking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJYllPyGHwIjCJv_IUxa0o1kgk05w7InwXXuwayUqzmcLqQzR2DitnOo8Qim0bQ7ics7Jy3rsmAXlf0y1FSwD65tKFVU4LtfyfZQ2W-x7imQfzI8HJ2_BRHAYr6gG7vhq5Ltt5-dx_P2K/s320/storyseeking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">At first I thought it might be one of the stages to the cache we were looking for, but then I saw the <a href="http://www.storyseeking.com/">Storyseeking.com</a> 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 <a href="http://storyseeking.com/Adventure.aspx?Story=12">Katarina</a>, 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.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After that little discovery I DNF'd the cache and moved onto the next. The cache that ended up being our 500th is called <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?guid=c664a42e-3dc6-437c-90b4-182b2e8c7595&log=y&decrypt=">Pingy Head South</a> 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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVHFZU6sxya5GcDcAtt1YprwmbFWvaeTxMJgByVYjsdPdVhZ_kUBqS8cNmRAs-HiR03_xmManQV7Ha_RgsKI1APr4_pzs0s3LmVo4aAoKKSpTVmW2dNg4Q1hmAM4OEAYffzpb2P0Nz7Oz/s1600/pingy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVHFZU6sxya5GcDcAtt1YprwmbFWvaeTxMJgByVYjsdPdVhZ_kUBqS8cNmRAs-HiR03_xmManQV7Ha_RgsKI1APr4_pzs0s3LmVo4aAoKKSpTVmW2dNg4Q1hmAM4OEAYffzpb2P0Nz7Oz/s320/pingy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
It felt like this: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLU1D_3Re5wyIwrWo4odRLXSduTCADF2Q5vUbvJpUCTJsbSnkJQfptbSahyIrBhCXWIfVHaAY5cjimbTO20EO6J3zXj76S9cK4Ktl9pFXbi1CmdBubk7vFViqwVSbJtGj0GGvEB39Bej9b/s1600/lotr-spider-john-howe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLU1D_3Re5wyIwrWo4odRLXSduTCADF2Q5vUbvJpUCTJsbSnkJQfptbSahyIrBhCXWIfVHaAY5cjimbTO20EO6J3zXj76S9cK4Ktl9pFXbi1CmdBubk7vFViqwVSbJtGj0GGvEB39Bej9b/s320/lotr-spider-john-howe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It was actually more like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjsohxEkIHAy8Jjeuh0-rmKJ_YotasUs6mEwagxdOjv8YsTu5GMxccNEsKLPuEuuhTIrr2233U-UCx1V-q4pbGoQ6JXDRshlWWDcMCez1obFTh2nr2U9DIXrXIBlrR-rygC8TxUQEVA4k/s1600/Spider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjsohxEkIHAy8Jjeuh0-rmKJ_YotasUs6mEwagxdOjv8YsTu5GMxccNEsKLPuEuuhTIrr2233U-UCx1V-q4pbGoQ6JXDRshlWWDcMCez1obFTh2nr2U9DIXrXIBlrR-rygC8TxUQEVA4k/s320/Spider.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Wouldn't you know it? I forgot my Light of Eärendil. 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 <em>me</em>. 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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thus concludes the tale of Team Evelev's 500th find, an extremely average geocaching day. I suppose it could have been worse.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-49143037750050469852011-08-29T20:03:00.000-07:002011-08-29T20:09:40.024-07:00Geocachers Search for a Different Kind of Smiley<div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://articles.orlandosentinel.com/2011-07-21/news/os-missing-clermont-teen-20110720_1_georgia-tags-jon-johnson-clermont-police-officials">Orlando Sentinel</a>. Familycachefinders credit the assistance of the <span id="goog_1541411627"></span><a href="http://www.ncmissingpersons.org/">CUE Center for Missing <span id="goog_1541411628"></span>Persons</a> 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). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This reminded me of another case of a missing Central Florida girl. In April 2010, 11-year-old Nadia Bloom's disappearance made <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/TheLaw/missing-florida-girl-aspergers-found-alive/story?id=10360795">national headlines</a>. 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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?wp=GC26RD8">GC26RD8</a> and <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?wp=GC26QJF">GC26QJF</a>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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 <a href="http://geocachingevelev.blogspot.com/2009/08/geocaching-smarter-monkey.html">we like to find stuff</a>, 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. </div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-59839474184910666452011-06-19T12:08:00.000-07:002011-06-19T12:55:12.597-07:00Ascending the Queen's Staircase<div style="text-align: justify;">Brian and I recently had the opportunity to travel to Nassau via cruise ship. There are few caches near the port, so like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091203/">Highlander</a>, there could be only one.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Gs5eS4oJDicVBOaszUe3aVCCYliAWTPK2gVX9s4ZVKod4XLrRPgvWWpLHS1AvafHajfUSzmyZXNGyFK5mj4WpK8znjPEBRWoCcNNt8wLq9YPFPTJePhKJHbfs81w4d6nPr_DZYdMAM4V/s1600/Ev_Reading_Map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Gs5eS4oJDicVBOaszUe3aVCCYliAWTPK2gVX9s4ZVKod4XLrRPgvWWpLHS1AvafHajfUSzmyZXNGyFK5mj4WpK8znjPEBRWoCcNNt8wLq9YPFPTJePhKJHbfs81w4d6nPr_DZYdMAM4V/s320/Ev_Reading_Map.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43pzIMcKxeiMM4jRCTTPpj2Lfcx2uSmsQUGZ2q7X3d6FCxtcZpLeuEh0ZLl_PeIflpXcN17E4w_Mk5OYoLwiaHN5Mq3PSKMxA7zj3PzzcTihh391Q090ne4bLjkjxxxk2tMF7EjnLYtBV/s1600/Ev_Eating.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43pzIMcKxeiMM4jRCTTPpj2Lfcx2uSmsQUGZ2q7X3d6FCxtcZpLeuEh0ZLl_PeIflpXcN17E4w_Mk5OYoLwiaHN5Mq3PSKMxA7zj3PzzcTihh391Q090ne4bLjkjxxxk2tMF7EjnLYtBV/s320/Ev_Eating.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">The Queen's Staircase is located about a mile from the port, as a crow flies. I remembered from my previous visits that this trip would be mostly uphill, but I did not prepare myself for, well, anything else. Brian's surgery last year left his legs pretty weak, so we decided it would be best for him to make this trip with the wheelchair. This would have worked out quite well, had it not been for the horrendous condition of the sidewalks. That is, when we had the luxury of sidewalks. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_Tr2bEV5PXEpXDNfFbH-Gy4NjfFwz0soatUpg5B_6jLmue5-x4htJeGGDAhYnRv6jOrgNnpD62R6UVwvxbIUl8Y0SnXZkD7WZwHqj7JDKb6cPju1QWs7y2S72WnQYrAqBSiNK2X3WwyM/s1600/Sidewalk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_Tr2bEV5PXEpXDNfFbH-Gy4NjfFwz0soatUpg5B_6jLmue5-x4htJeGGDAhYnRv6jOrgNnpD62R6UVwvxbIUl8Y0SnXZkD7WZwHqj7JDKb6cPju1QWs7y2S72WnQYrAqBSiNK2X3WwyM/s320/Sidewalk.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://comicbooks.about.com/od/comicmovies/ig/300-Gallery/The-Spartan-Baby-Inspector-.htm">Baby Inspector</a>.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5Q8OZla2iZ3obXm9XidQ-PBcSX4FAoWOoZHL03sKrfpGkw3eXM3yui71P7pVQ6ztHGdQ6xAyXSa3-i7xBjlVwIw4OPsoVoqnxlnlg10Y6XtK9wFBoO5z0Kq5VqFsbG01SDXNt5Oj8aFY/s1600/Sidewalk_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5Q8OZla2iZ3obXm9XidQ-PBcSX4FAoWOoZHL03sKrfpGkw3eXM3yui71P7pVQ6ztHGdQ6xAyXSa3-i7xBjlVwIw4OPsoVoqnxlnlg10Y6XtK9wFBoO5z0Kq5VqFsbG01SDXNt5Oj8aFY/s320/Sidewalk_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">A few near-death-experiences later, I saw what I was looking for - a huge white tower that I presumed was the Queen's Staircase. It was actually the tower at Fort Fincastle, but I spent about 30 minutes wandering around and taking pictures. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilk2Pa-pmlOhFUrw98nZKn1HeYIOXQlqo-shNt38a6uKgo7RStgjNUm_nq6bQwyZa90ZnNLP9z51kYDajjHpXuc1B5B6nFDFnwg21I27VkNUboQFbzmSmiVUbGK7WrCrueZGn5Glhy-5v_/s1600/Looking_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilk2Pa-pmlOhFUrw98nZKn1HeYIOXQlqo-shNt38a6uKgo7RStgjNUm_nq6bQwyZa90ZnNLP9z51kYDajjHpXuc1B5B6nFDFnwg21I27VkNUboQFbzmSmiVUbGK7WrCrueZGn5Glhy-5v_/s320/Looking_2.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXaKbRlOfBd9U-OqKRZC_e1ShRKDfFfj_N3DXHORSWspj8o7DKdgzybHyBpVbP8n7KajLZIfj8ltyOKR1LIIWHKDnulNrdKGCBrhI0mEL40tySwL_btFNjGlo9cVHc-vIqgEmAgwSdS-o/s1600/Tower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXaKbRlOfBd9U-OqKRZC_e1ShRKDfFfj_N3DXHORSWspj8o7DKdgzybHyBpVbP8n7KajLZIfj8ltyOKR1LIIWHKDnulNrdKGCBrhI0mEL40tySwL_btFNjGlo9cVHc-vIqgEmAgwSdS-o/s320/Tower.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Eventually, I peeked over a stone wall and saw the real staircase. After much dawdling, we wandered towards the staircase, visually scoping out possible locations and trying really hard to avoid all of the vendors. I considered my options and decided to start at the staircase and work my way back. But before I had the chance, a couple of tourists and a Bahamian tour guide were standing a few feet away. I stared at my iPhone, trying to come up with a plan when the tour guide says, "Are you looking for the geocache?"</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0EjQDvGW-wY3hGYD2d32puLKdUMxzTkaYhYnT1tSlaOFI3GHJWRI0LCUtPqECXKq3aqxdGLiHYRpHVJJsbxzQMElqETNIvCczL_MXEfHZALl8aClEmsElrsQvpVDulJ7jb32qmsiWFaO/s1600/IMG_1817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0EjQDvGW-wY3hGYD2d32puLKdUMxzTkaYhYnT1tSlaOFI3GHJWRI0LCUtPqECXKq3aqxdGLiHYRpHVJJsbxzQMElqETNIvCczL_MXEfHZALl8aClEmsElrsQvpVDulJ7jb32qmsiWFaO/s320/IMG_1817.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <em>tell</em> you where it is without <em>showing</em> you." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Oh. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <strike>destroy</strike> "braid" my hair. I imagine they regard him as some of kind of Godfather.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlPFdjn9NCCovAZhBSNgY7LLNwVqKy_IdmYmBib043x56L5GSSmY5bVb9_GHk-OmJBzR1bpLGN-mvXz5c1EFjW7-zBdM_IH7MayKzDFucPlc3Mwp2KDrmKvJ9c4O27kMBcOkJw9p8kvI9/s1600/IMG_1827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlPFdjn9NCCovAZhBSNgY7LLNwVqKy_IdmYmBib043x56L5GSSmY5bVb9_GHk-OmJBzR1bpLGN-mvXz5c1EFjW7-zBdM_IH7MayKzDFucPlc3Mwp2KDrmKvJ9c4O27kMBcOkJw9p8kvI9/s320/IMG_1827.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Here's another thing - I forgot to bring a pen. Really. I was getting ready to smash my finger with the big rock and leave a bloody finger print, but the tour guide noticed my predicament and produced a purple ballpoint. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3sA6LZerSGVEn3B6QyUPVkAu2mHI3EzDP7qgFgDFaeWmm6WNxHMmWhDQsMot9S7cX9ItzpBi91o9g_C9NwrMvi9ELufKrCXU-1vVpPk9UsABeuDmCW59B_3NDQ49mfKOdJk5rth8mbk7/s1600/IMG_1829-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3sA6LZerSGVEn3B6QyUPVkAu2mHI3EzDP7qgFgDFaeWmm6WNxHMmWhDQsMot9S7cX9ItzpBi91o9g_C9NwrMvi9ELufKrCXU-1vVpPk9UsABeuDmCW59B_3NDQ49mfKOdJk5rth8mbk7/s320/IMG_1829-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrz7EKUpvmVKl6kPhnfLNmWpHka-tNbqTWxtUHjUTc_Ob_DOO8t0tlGXL7npcFfMG2OwIgjF3tjv1ZsIJqMAIYUJYWYf8JY1nitWmwSUt-buLAJKaq-zWoQkJrkxO2-W3zE58Vnjc1uTSW/s1600/IMG_1836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrz7EKUpvmVKl6kPhnfLNmWpHka-tNbqTWxtUHjUTc_Ob_DOO8t0tlGXL7npcFfMG2OwIgjF3tjv1ZsIJqMAIYUJYWYf8JY1nitWmwSUt-buLAJKaq-zWoQkJrkxO2-W3zE58Vnjc1uTSW/s320/IMG_1836.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I decided to go a different route, hoping the sidewalks would in better condition. No such luck, although I suppose something can't be in disrepair if it doesn't exist. I would like to say I was surprised, but by then I saw it as a badge of honor. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWSkQ9JZa-GXmlseoploMgfuhpXKROjgosiSyfrjjisPBlHWZku4CrtE5OTIiYEDTSIoV9l30_1MQ0ovSBuvdc-LM5GCdUBZujiNbqh_JUEzTRQkZH2SHCtHaHC0lzerMngKW607-c3vF7/s1600/IMG_1841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWSkQ9JZa-GXmlseoploMgfuhpXKROjgosiSyfrjjisPBlHWZku4CrtE5OTIiYEDTSIoV9l30_1MQ0ovSBuvdc-LM5GCdUBZujiNbqh_JUEzTRQkZH2SHCtHaHC0lzerMngKW607-c3vF7/s320/IMG_1841.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-40682458153428052982011-05-08T21:50:00.000-07:002011-05-08T21:50:55.762-07:00GPS: The Movie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few weeks ago I was flipping through my TV guide when I came across<em> </em><a href="http://www.gpsthemovie.com/"><em>GPS: The Movie</em></a>. The description told me everything I needed to know: </div><blockquote><em>College students play a treasure-hunting game that contains a deadly mystery.</em></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadZZilJPN5_Jf94lWtF05TcVYpV14tmW-i3MfClecWDt_9Ri9k_hAa5UBHtmQ_bRdT6W5AfQxNEL9kP20tLiRhZhKNcSCxQ4o1J0tmJal_TfCjyiwyA5HdR-JH2CKXi5eVNJ3-gDm7dhB/s1600/Movie+Poster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadZZilJPN5_Jf94lWtF05TcVYpV14tmW-i3MfClecWDt_9Ri9k_hAa5UBHtmQ_bRdT6W5AfQxNEL9kP20tLiRhZhKNcSCxQ4o1J0tmJal_TfCjyiwyA5HdR-JH2CKXi5eVNJ3-gDm7dhB/s320/Movie+Poster.JPG" width="245" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. <em>Ok, it's a night cache, neat,</em> I thought, until the passenger says, "Yeah, because I'm a freaking vampire." <em>Wait...what?</em> Turns out the TV guide was wrong and <em>GPS</em> 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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before I get into the movie, I should point out that <em>GPS</em> 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:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strike>Geocaching</strike> GPS Treasure Hunt</div><div style="text-align: justify;">+ Hot college students.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">+ Treasure the finder keeps.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Bras.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Nerds, old people, fat people, soccer moms, and children.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Geo-lingo (muggles, micros, nanos, bison tubes, etc).</div><div style="text-align: justify;">+ Wet t-shirts, guns, and car chases.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">+ <em>Murrrrrderrrrr</em>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">= <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=awesome+sauce">Awesome-sauce</a> backdrop for a pseudo-slasher film.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <strong>awesome</strong>," says a young boy from the backseat. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After Bob finds the cache...err, treasure, they squabble about who gets to claim it:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"C'mon man, it's just a game," says Bob.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sam retorts, "IS it?? Is it just a game?...Why don't you use that GPS to find yourself some balls?!"</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You might want to give that phrase some time to sink in.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wT_zmoPU5cQTmcxXRUPhizCXV_z45xvvGDZEmgi-yZ5_uGX7F8jIXnrPNZCjpJNQ8YfYiw_wvOYadTarbrILubGI4xTa_cILujR17iHx8VPB0PWc8hx2-T7ly-XLchK-bY-7IuLSlrzM/s1600/Still1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wT_zmoPU5cQTmcxXRUPhizCXV_z45xvvGDZEmgi-yZ5_uGX7F8jIXnrPNZCjpJNQ8YfYiw_wvOYadTarbrILubGI4xTa_cILujR17iHx8VPB0PWc8hx2-T7ly-XLchK-bY-7IuLSlrzM/s320/Still1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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, <em>murrrrderrrr</em>.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbXAbykxBzqYPYu2roJ5ZnWvG1_MzoT7P0yLpdhm-BPMfO-utb6hQ1ooJbeSso3Ip1mcS9qd0CqMoLEu5as16IhFe6eXxaJMVU2uplercC9FpNnrhL54E0C1QaRYZ-LjwG6bF2OJTHsMh/s1600/Still2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbXAbykxBzqYPYu2roJ5ZnWvG1_MzoT7P0yLpdhm-BPMfO-utb6hQ1ooJbeSso3Ip1mcS9qd0CqMoLEu5as16IhFe6eXxaJMVU2uplercC9FpNnrhL54E0C1QaRYZ-LjwG6bF2OJTHsMh/s320/Still2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dMZDYut0nP2cI0aBvKQDsybTpG9Ve8ODSAwe7hAvnBH5uK4qd7b9N4Zt1ykrHOiXYxAMYhxSSdmr_qA3YTHFkFhJsm4fUbyUdqCgcsZX8FeywW0yYZtE3W5aXQaJb6QSlflLR2AtvyUQ/s1600/Still3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dMZDYut0nP2cI0aBvKQDsybTpG9Ve8ODSAwe7hAvnBH5uK4qd7b9N4Zt1ykrHOiXYxAMYhxSSdmr_qA3YTHFkFhJsm4fUbyUdqCgcsZX8FeywW0yYZtE3W5aXQaJb6QSlflLR2AtvyUQ/s320/Still3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">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 <em>GPS2</em>, though this has yet to be green lighted (green lit?).</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdau1QwoMbTWlkhfdB86eupkbWoLWxjivdboS4I3eijx4BtOD4eZZJiqBLwTbuTFlKxZ3d-Y_y9vMPZdqiwswvg3h4A-2X9a-6uXQXkrCAGLRJPcRuObg_OqESefekDOFhaCE2KQkPvPEv/s1600/Movie+Poster2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdau1QwoMbTWlkhfdB86eupkbWoLWxjivdboS4I3eijx4BtOD4eZZJiqBLwTbuTFlKxZ3d-Y_y9vMPZdqiwswvg3h4A-2X9a-6uXQXkrCAGLRJPcRuObg_OqESefekDOFhaCE2KQkPvPEv/s320/Movie+Poster2.JPG" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-23009084313298340722011-04-23T17:13:00.000-07:002011-04-23T17:14:44.926-07:00Patience is a Virtue<div style="text-align: justify;">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). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here are the many exciting things I have planned:</div><ul><li><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">Other tinkering of this page. Might go off-profile a bit. No dancing hampsters, I promise.</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">A catch-up article to cover the best caches I haven't had time to write about.</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">Handi-caching (my experiences plus a little research about what others are doing).</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">Geocacher fashion and hair (I've been toying with this for a while, I think it could be fun).</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">Software (there are so many neat things out there to manage our data).</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">Profile of a geocacher (this may involve me conducting my own research, muwahaha).</div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">Puzzle/mystery caches (code breaking, puzzle-solving, etc).</div></li>
</ul><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-28755396745928544352011-04-10T20:55:00.000-07:002011-04-17T13:02:29.480-07:00If the Piece Fits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=82218&id=734266918">Geocachers Puzzle</a>. 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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFlS_BbogzN5YRYgz5KxR5vw2oei-eV358OLdW_dRKg9IQke7HVEN4d93nYf8-WrEhZTKEqHE2QR7F20Yf2vv0idmHwVYgjvvqyLEl-5g3OuwccxKA55e9yjIyoyUNLhoQnFHt310B4gW/s1600/Geocacher_Puzzle_2202011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFlS_BbogzN5YRYgz5KxR5vw2oei-eV358OLdW_dRKg9IQke7HVEN4d93nYf8-WrEhZTKEqHE2QR7F20Yf2vv0idmHwVYgjvvqyLEl-5g3OuwccxKA55e9yjIyoyUNLhoQnFHt310B4gW/s320/Geocacher_Puzzle_2202011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I requested my puzzle piece immediately and emailed <a href="http://www.ftfgeocacher.com/">FTF Geocacher</a> with what I thought was a hot tip. Their response: <em>Why don't youuuuu write about it?</em> (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 <em>want</em> to write about it, I just wasn't sure I would make time to, which is kinda my style lately. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_S8nqNYqqBZU6JGFhvgYMz5Q6_x-uLp6ANQOj5KBfo-EDRwn5_4-iMhO8gIYBl8OtNPyn47zau0Dpq1jshsi0jNxxu_2m8g-_vR6ZKSCqSLdH9OKIyEWpfqXPQqCUYnDZ-o1_qvwdYdf/s1600/3_puzzle_pieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="108" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_S8nqNYqqBZU6JGFhvgYMz5Q6_x-uLp6ANQOj5KBfo-EDRwn5_4-iMhO8gIYBl8OtNPyn47zau0Dpq1jshsi0jNxxu_2m8g-_vR6ZKSCqSLdH9OKIyEWpfqXPQqCUYnDZ-o1_qvwdYdf/s320/3_puzzle_pieces.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://store.training-wheels.com/compuz48piec.html">Community Puzzle</a> 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 <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/track/details.aspx?tracker=TB1CNE2">trackable</a> 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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jM_Ls4pMZKikawu80i3Xt5PvnY8kqPf1lJ0x-_iIithyphenhyphenCdsniBE_rPqZjHkYy-vn7UbExcp-l8EPqA3osezfmsopljlmDyc1Q-cRj_HO3eQxcdaQEXCM9HGbh0F384g6Mgn8EQJSIq_l/s1600/Puzzle_Draft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jM_Ls4pMZKikawu80i3Xt5PvnY8kqPf1lJ0x-_iIithyphenhyphenCdsniBE_rPqZjHkYy-vn7UbExcp-l8EPqA3osezfmsopljlmDyc1Q-cRj_HO3eQxcdaQEXCM9HGbh0F384g6Mgn8EQJSIq_l/s320/Puzzle_Draft.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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 <em>the one</em> hit me last night, but I didn't have the energy to explore it. It began as a very rough sketch.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXWJDbgK-GzI5EpB2mFiBF1ZyOGvGOkCDoR9uQWRlR6cQOryoOUJuC98dcH_TUAENXzDJbk7GLL7C_Rvm5JnjIWQHwVANgRkr1CL-Go9dPa8c_hAnT3mbS_KNhu0IInSjBC1Hb_rYjWP9P/s1600/Puzzle_Sketch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXWJDbgK-GzI5EpB2mFiBF1ZyOGvGOkCDoR9uQWRlR6cQOryoOUJuC98dcH_TUAENXzDJbk7GLL7C_Rvm5JnjIWQHwVANgRkr1CL-Go9dPa8c_hAnT3mbS_KNhu0IInSjBC1Hb_rYjWP9P/s320/Puzzle_Sketch.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">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).</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibB3c9y5TnvjZmOedAfr1j4E5ChJEM-qfgnVA7a4a_Gh1L8sdZnxJOFDXqXRgWE0QWj9JgIWxxPT7-t_JaRmVT16YN20nDse7TOzHuppUBfy9uXijv4E6guhDyGlbX0UhTvD9GhXYRn2ru/s1600/Finished_Puzzle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibB3c9y5TnvjZmOedAfr1j4E5ChJEM-qfgnVA7a4a_Gh1L8sdZnxJOFDXqXRgWE0QWj9JgIWxxPT7-t_JaRmVT16YN20nDse7TOzHuppUBfy9uXijv4E6guhDyGlbX0UhTvD9GhXYRn2ru/s320/Finished_Puzzle.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I'm <strong>really</strong> 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 <em>that</em>, <a href="http://www.aetv.com/hoarders/">A&E</a>! 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.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5njVEoDXvd72tmqFVmyjlVWSiVlwhRLyQ59vVVzL2q21jaHOEcmerIKjqVIXEqx_YsHXfw27eZvmJEKOObmIhv_nJDyNvwlQZs8asVRCoQSQcZVJOlrViB1kG9PmPq-w_-GEcyoKAEPfs/s1600/puzzle_collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5njVEoDXvd72tmqFVmyjlVWSiVlwhRLyQ59vVVzL2q21jaHOEcmerIKjqVIXEqx_YsHXfw27eZvmJEKOObmIhv_nJDyNvwlQZs8asVRCoQSQcZVJOlrViB1kG9PmPq-w_-GEcyoKAEPfs/s320/puzzle_collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">If you want to decorate your own piece, just go to Brenda's <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/profile/?guid=8bd1ffc4-bb16-477c-97a6-442546824fae">geocaching profile</a> 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!"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-80650873679226391802011-04-04T20:05:00.000-07:002011-04-04T20:05:44.425-07:00My Geo-Community<div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHPSePjJojt_IRTrG-swqShpSchaW8F30pPv0ABYHmAftlzzy_8kjCeH_CiKjj2Eoo1JCzbOvx28VD4ZrxMPGD1TgkVJHysfttYwdxKRf9YwuZVhLSjuQPYi3oeZyrZTifHjAtpFCGLaK/s1600/Fire_Tacks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHPSePjJojt_IRTrG-swqShpSchaW8F30pPv0ABYHmAftlzzy_8kjCeH_CiKjj2Eoo1JCzbOvx28VD4ZrxMPGD1TgkVJHysfttYwdxKRf9YwuZVhLSjuQPYi3oeZyrZTifHjAtpFCGLaK/s320/Fire_Tacks.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://www.firetacks.com/webcart.php?cat_id=1&">Fire Tacks</a> 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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqH1zBZFAn_3hvKY_ROkyG2DU0acSZcEuVLFI-XXISlxhHAP5C7dxeRsjMXJ6uQA9oouuQyH1GfYMppiwQ9SNFKmHkzNL3qmkWUeoirfMLdCTp8FZsFqky_Dqs6iCJ_t7VhMB5Pa6hXAz/s1600/GPS_Tracklog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqH1zBZFAn_3hvKY_ROkyG2DU0acSZcEuVLFI-XXISlxhHAP5C7dxeRsjMXJ6uQA9oouuQyH1GfYMppiwQ9SNFKmHkzNL3qmkWUeoirfMLdCTp8FZsFqky_Dqs6iCJ_t7VhMB5Pa6hXAz/s320/GPS_Tracklog.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFDNL4YjZNmYgG43ugoqMa8btB4xkX-BpXUCk1XRU0u-3B7LUq7cXpR8Z9wXT2i6UrVCTndpwkZIb1kFuRaIHzyXcZ4UwYvRrCaYA_vyBumTil5BaOMd_cQnVGoz4I2iczWF6cvT3VHVp/s1600/Ev_palms.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFDNL4YjZNmYgG43ugoqMa8btB4xkX-BpXUCk1XRU0u-3B7LUq7cXpR8Z9wXT2i6UrVCTndpwkZIb1kFuRaIHzyXcZ4UwYvRrCaYA_vyBumTil5BaOMd_cQnVGoz4I2iczWF6cvT3VHVp/s320/Ev_palms.bmp" width="278" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidUPVrgCbbqCp0uBNNIX7i_0r0yHalYj3ynUCb6Ykid7px9N03cQaNDAbrUUYzkSjq8m0sVHTF0TNkWjqnxMhuAHckKpn6hZ3T7_YVPRtxtsMwwyqkIdE7vl5FjDBCrtWAyFwwetr0afw_/s1600/Group.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidUPVrgCbbqCp0uBNNIX7i_0r0yHalYj3ynUCb6Ykid7px9N03cQaNDAbrUUYzkSjq8m0sVHTF0TNkWjqnxMhuAHckKpn6hZ3T7_YVPRtxtsMwwyqkIdE7vl5FjDBCrtWAyFwwetr0afw_/s320/Group.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP2_e4tNO3tvIxK1NVs2lr6XWbiHvD27SzfgwNBQ3S1xaJX_zbbWuMkdhJfDaXMNrM1OlzUdFt04Eip5BExZTQl8JNzeVXFYFJEZt8Nl86r4kf9nctz1DRiqXQKErUT0YJaeINKtQPmWC/s1600/Fly_away_zoobum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP2_e4tNO3tvIxK1NVs2lr6XWbiHvD27SzfgwNBQ3S1xaJX_zbbWuMkdhJfDaXMNrM1OlzUdFt04Eip5BExZTQl8JNzeVXFYFJEZt8Nl86r4kf9nctz1DRiqXQKErUT0YJaeINKtQPmWC/s320/Fly_away_zoobum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dungeons_%26_Dragons">D&D dungeon master</a> clutch his bag of polyhedral dice and scoff, "nerds." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-25260179716713538332011-01-17T08:51:00.001-08:002011-01-20T19:06:47.809-08:00Meet the Travel Bug Bandit<div style="text-align: justify;">Gather 'round, boys and girls, muggles and (number) fiends. Meet the Travel Bug Bandit.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />It was not always this way. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a href="http://s1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee398/evpassino/?action=view¤t=bfe59f22.png" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee398/evpassino/bfe59f22.png" border="0" alt="Photobucket Pictures, Images and Photos" /></a><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a href="http://s1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee398/evpassino/?action=view¤t=fa79d694.png" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1225.photobucket.com/albums/ee398/evpassino/fa79d694.png" border="0" alt="Photobucket Pictures, Images and Photos" /></a><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-36615641122886486692011-01-01T14:04:00.000-08:002011-01-01T16:39:12.923-08:00New Year, New Phobia<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div>He just looked at me, unfazed, "You have to take it out."<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">"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."</span></div>"Get a butter knife and a lighter." He said this with stone cold apathy.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">The last time I dealt with ticks was when we went <a href="http://geocachingevelev.blogspot.com/2009/09/south-carolina-geohazard-capital-of.html">geocaching in South Carolina</a> 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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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:</span></div><br /><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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.</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">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."</span></div></blockquote><br /><br />Anyway, I have all kinds of other stories from yesterday, but we'll save that for another posting.Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-86081500385536172012010-12-23T17:04:00.000-08:002010-12-26T18:07:32.341-08:0010-10-10On October 10, 2010, some 78,313 Found It! logs were posted to geocaching.com. Without me, there would have been only 78,309. Like many, I had the goal of finding 10, but it just didn't happen. I had a feeling the iPhone app would be slow or dead (it was spotty at best), so I spent a lot of time planning, which contributed to a late start. Anyway, I did my part.<br /><br />I started with a newly-posted cache by my house. If you're local, it's part of the Princess Anna series. For some reason, this one took me forever to finally see. Neon blue blends in so well with the trees.<br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY3RuJHGthu0soeqCbKk6TqhOoN4u4L4yKGQI-ofznW9VtW2mY-Yf288TrYr3o5SD1moVS1J9Rtgo5RbLC57GSDo7hCND8yKLCPFtYygHB9N5cbOg0GHMXtgh6ufPhz3b0Eq1yMVxzijhc/s1600/IMG_2137.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544784219261144962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY3RuJHGthu0soeqCbKk6TqhOoN4u4L4yKGQI-ofznW9VtW2mY-Yf288TrYr3o5SD1moVS1J9Rtgo5RbLC57GSDo7hCND8yKLCPFtYygHB9N5cbOg0GHMXtgh6ufPhz3b0Eq1yMVxzijhc/s320/IMG_2137.JPG" /></a></p><p>Next, I revisited a cache I'd attempted earlier in the week. Shortly after arriving home from work one night, I got the onimous cache-posted email. Instead of making dinner, I grabbed a flashlight and headed for the door. I parked in front of EyeoftheSeeker's house, debated telling him I was there for about 3 seconds, and then went to find the cache by myself. He showed up about 2 minutes later, which was good because I needed someone to blaze a trail. Heels and a skirt weren't really the best choice for a level 2 terrain. Seeker8 joined the hunt and we waded into the waist-high ferns togethr. We searched for at least 30 minutes, but we came up with nothing. It was much easier to find in the daylight. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwyRQU-JP8OTRi4SjDMsDV9JG34S2WjSL6JizLSWJKhwTOadDKAvZjOS2bgcjn3mYStP4sc4wsmVcZxbeAhMLroK84Et9_2kEpoECmaZ9-uIAwRpsVG1bsIVnmLUjCTAgpRWRRz47mxqE/s1600/Murpherny+COMOAC.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544784225517245666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwyRQU-JP8OTRi4SjDMsDV9JG34S2WjSL6JizLSWJKhwTOadDKAvZjOS2bgcjn3mYStP4sc4wsmVcZxbeAhMLroK84Et9_2kEpoECmaZ9-uIAwRpsVG1bsIVnmLUjCTAgpRWRRz47mxqE/s320/Murpherny+COMOAC.jpg" /></a> Two finds down, I headed for phase 2 of the Princess Anna series. The cache is located on the Cross Seminole Trail near an elementary school. Since this was Sunday afternoon, I parked at the trailhead (in the grass, not in a parking space) and walked to the cache. After a few minutes of stealthy-ish searching, I looked back up the trail to see a police car parked behind my car. I briefly contemplated ignoring it and continuing the search, but then I figured I might be able to avoid the ticket if I just offered to move...plus there was the possibility they would tow my car. So, I walked back, grudgingly. As I approached, the cop got out of his car and started talking into the mic on his shoulder. Here comes the SWAT team. </p><blockquote>"Is this your vehicle?" he said, clearly addressing me.<br />"Yeeeeah," I said, in shame.<br />"Is everything alright?" he said.<br />"Yeah," I gestured back down the trail, "I was just geocaching...heh." My shoulders gave a mini-shrug. As I was preparing for the geo-whatnow conversation, he cut me off--<br />"Oh! There's one of those down there? I see people all the time looking for them. We must have a bunch in Winter Springs. Especially at the golf course, you know the one that's closed. These people come out of the woods with just a GPS and a pen. My partner and I, we think it's pretty cool."<br />My thoughts at that moment ranged from awesome to whoa. I replied, "Yeah! It's a blast. There are sooo many around here." [insert awkward silence] "Do I need to move my car?"<br />"No, you're fine. The school is closed today and you're off the road."<br />"So it's ok if I go back and find it?"<br />"Oh yeah, go find it! I just wanted to make sure you were ok. Have a nice day, now."</blockquote>And that was it. I walked back to GZ and resumed my search. But that's not all - a minute or two later I saw this thing dart out from under the bridge I was standing on. It turned back and looked me straight in the eyes. We just stared at each other, until I had the presence of mind to take a photo. The clicking sound scared him off, so unfortunately I didn't get a second chance. The pic I took sucks, thanks to a combination of the distance (about 30 feet) and me being a spaz.<br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpKpqApGD5TXIYfl2GGgroOz4nIeEWaF1foulfSEjvmWimfvSjXTFowUiPsiNie5bemNtxy_WlFA-_gi2lkAdd2JsDPqi8VY1WKEKtu-qyKXAA_HM9gPkRKXWr5IOnHjVQq478N6aro48/s1600/IMG_2139.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 246px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544784214598244866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpKpqApGD5TXIYfl2GGgroOz4nIeEWaF1foulfSEjvmWimfvSjXTFowUiPsiNie5bemNtxy_WlFA-_gi2lkAdd2JsDPqi8VY1WKEKtu-qyKXAA_HM9gPkRKXWr5IOnHjVQq478N6aro48/s320/IMG_2139.JPG" /></a>The picture below is a better representation of what I saw, but it's not mine. Anyway, I've thought about this moment a lot. It was part wonder, part terror. Wonder because I had no idea those things were around here, and terror because it challenged every notion I had about the nice kitties of my childhood. The look in its eyes said "I will munch your brains and bathe in your intestines!" I realize now that lot of his mean look comes from the "eyebrows". Those are textbook angry cartoon eyebrows.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAx9nIRdCQ-UxNKzSRDMgkE6C5giSuZwpKbsPn-K9LG7HlohhCpyKnobKkkxusrQpy1nus1zGlS4j8rqrjAaTc7WoqW1411P6P7ugGc7sbVmfdPmxz-Vz9Op9950MTEJsp2o4TZWzHZ-Ax/s1600/BobcatLG.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 260px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555164429605862674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAx9nIRdCQ-UxNKzSRDMgkE6C5giSuZwpKbsPn-K9LG7HlohhCpyKnobKkkxusrQpy1nus1zGlS4j8rqrjAaTc7WoqW1411P6P7ugGc7sbVmfdPmxz-Vz9Op9950MTEJsp2o4TZWzHZ-Ax/s320/BobcatLG.jpg" /></a><br />I didn't realize until later that in the minutes before I saw it, I heard it. I kept hearing this bleating sound, like a sheep. I assumed that there was a farm nearby, or a sheep got loose, but it turns out that it was the bobcat. Fascinating. <p>After this little episode, I finally spotted the cache. Now I had the coordinates I needed for the final stage of the Princess Anna series. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySPSwbR174KYec0t5KbZxnsUGCSaZmBWutvD53zvba7daSW1sUXAZ07eRB4iJeDrPzAKnkNG4SUDpzBLQ1ZHoXZ8leSjixi2E5G7Zt2tULKvmxHVvBaYP1n36Qqcc3hyphenhyphenNnbB33dKXt3sY/s1600/IMG_2142.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544784209190469026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySPSwbR174KYec0t5KbZxnsUGCSaZmBWutvD53zvba7daSW1sUXAZ07eRB4iJeDrPzAKnkNG4SUDpzBLQ1ZHoXZ8leSjixi2E5G7Zt2tULKvmxHVvBaYP1n36Qqcc3hyphenhyphenNnbB33dKXt3sY/s320/IMG_2142.JPG" /></a><br />This last piece seemed to take forever. I'm not sure which was worse - the tree cover or the swarms of mosquitos. Either way, it made for a miserable experience. When I signed the log I didn't really care what was in the cache, I just wanted it to be over. Now that I look again, there was some cute junk in there. Oh well.</p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0nrm2nSclf4XMmvFnlBW7r5NEZwRXb3gZcR14qEDZKio3Uw9M1BbdUhdfKmgwrLZpUsly67pSkgNLtS71y0f3LwAGRfGoMZwNKbX7sPAxPq_prkWsdIwx4QSLkolxLipvCE0QlN5ZXmf/s1600/IMG_2143.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544784203208265426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0nrm2nSclf4XMmvFnlBW7r5NEZwRXb3gZcR14qEDZKio3Uw9M1BbdUhdfKmgwrLZpUsly67pSkgNLtS71y0f3LwAGRfGoMZwNKbX7sPAxPq_prkWsdIwx4QSLkolxLipvCE0QlN5ZXmf/s320/IMG_2143.JPG" /></a>Thus concludes my 10-10-10 caching experience. If you haven't seen it yet, here is Groundspeak's commemorative video.<br /><br />The video was originally published on <a href="http://blog.geocaching.com/2010/10/a-record-breaking-10-10-10-a-geocaching-com-lost-found-video/">Latitude 47</a>, the official geocaching blog.<br /><br /><object width="640" height="390"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jfgd24eVifk&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jfgd24eVifk&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="390"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-75679652361707025662010-12-14T18:37:00.000-08:002011-04-20T19:39:42.778-07:00Evelev's Review of the iPhone4 for Geocaching<div style="text-align: justify;">Some geocachers use a map and compass, others carry a GPSr and clipboard. I am the type of geocacher that does everything with my iPhone. I plan, locate, and document all from the palm of my hand. You can imagine my sheer joy at the announcement of the iPhone 4. They promised faster processing, multitasking, better GPS accuracy, and a range of photographic enhancements (two cameras, flash, and a whopping 5 megapixels).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I joined the iPhone 4 zombie mob late in the game and did not pre-order online like I should have. It was only a few days before release when I tried to get my name on a waiting list. In order to accomplish this, Brian suggested I help my chances by being…flirty. I won’t confirm or deny if I used this tactic, but I found myself in the #4 spot on the waiting list at a nationwide chain electronics store. Oh, Apple, what have we become? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">While the guy set up my phone, I jabbered moronically about how awesome it would be. Soon he handed me the phone like a delivery nurse hands a newborn to its mother. Angels sang, trumpets sounded, and the guy behind the counter let out a sigh of relief that I was leaving. In the following days, almost every one of my apps released an update to catch up with the new technology. Groundspeak was among them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Groundspeak has released several updates over the past few months, but the first iPhone 4 version was terrible. Despite the improved GPS technology, the current location dot was extremely slow to update. This made it difficult to pinpoint a parking spot, let alone the actual GZ. I spent a lot of time driving in circles and the maps only compounded this issue. They were slow to zoom and the resolution was horrible, making it hard to read the street names. Back then we also had to choose between satellite and street view. It was barbaric.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I give credit to Groundspeak, they have addressed all of these issues. At the writing of this blog post, we are on version 4.2.1 and the app is pretty darn functional. The satellite and street maps have been integrated, meaning I can view a satellite map (which offers vital clues to a cache’s location) AND see the streets names (which tells me where to start looking). The maps load faster and seem to be more accurate, but I can’t say for sure. Maybe I’m just better at finding.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another bonus of the iPhone 4 is the button that rotates the map according to the finder’s point of view. Instead of having to shift the phone around to see where I am in relation to the cache, the map moves for me so that all I have to do is walk forward. I use this function almost every time I look for a cache.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The new app also includes a bunch of new features on the home screen. For one, we now get an indicator of whether the app is working – a little dot that turns green when online or red when offline. Let me tell you, that little red dot is infuriating because there is nothing the user can do except look at it (Edit: I hear that logging out and then logging back in helps). Luckily, this rarely occurs. In keeping with their attempt at giving the user more info, Groundspeak also gives us a box dedicated to the device’s current location. It includes the current location’s coordinates, a map of those coordinates, and estimated accuracy (in feet). As I write this, my estimated accuracy is fluctuating between 98 and 213 feet, but the map looks dead on. I may finally be able to hide a cache and use the coordinates from my iPhone. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The search function has improved significantly. When I click “Find Nearby Geocaches”, each listing now includes the cache name, difficulty and terrain ratings, distance, size, and type (traditional, mystery, etc). I also have an option to sort the list by distance, GC code, title or type. I would assume that if you just pressed the “Find Nearby Geocaches” button, you would probably want them sorted by location, but it's nice to have options. Personally, I don't find this function particularly useful because I kept the option to see only 10 caches at a time. I don't need to see the 30 closest caches unless I'm looking for something in particular. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the lesser-known functions is the ability to add your own waypoints. I'm not sure how long this function has been available, but someone at <a href="http://www.ftfgeocacher.com/">FTF Geocacher</a> had to point it out to me, and I have shown several people since. If I just blew your mind, here's how it works: Look-up a cache and view the map by pressing "Navigate to Geocache", click the little flag in the upper right corner, and enter the coordinates. You can even name the waypoint, in case, say, you want to add actual coords for a mystery cache and the coords of your car. Speaking of which, if you want to add the coords of your car, simply stand by it and click "Set to Current Location", which will auto-populate your current coordinates. Just make sure that your iPhone's signal is somewhat accurate at that point in time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I found a wonderful use for this feature yesterday. I was at an event and the hosts had placed several "temporary" (i.e. not published or assigned GC codes) caches for us to hunt. At the sign-in table there was a sheet with all of the coordinates. It only took me a few minutes to plot them all out.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrzmvE0mAuEjz9adcKIE9ptW3IQBSDP6dcLkVJprxnrY5OTny_ECWtj367AuYPv1bPyUC9Wqn9IRERtmGes7V0lX5zy_lkJKUl-pyq47I_WxdfESdgb5R0HdUrbnPZofXzkqKMP07dTPN/s1600/app_waypoints.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrzmvE0mAuEjz9adcKIE9ptW3IQBSDP6dcLkVJprxnrY5OTny_ECWtj367AuYPv1bPyUC9Wqn9IRERtmGes7V0lX5zy_lkJKUl-pyq47I_WxdfESdgb5R0HdUrbnPZofXzkqKMP07dTPN/s320/app_waypoints.PNG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">My only gripe with the app right now is how slow it can be at times, especially on the weekends. Sometimes I press a button and have to wait a full 60 or 90 seconds for it to respond, or I get the error "No caches found" when I know I'm standing within a few feet of one. I don't know if the servers over-loaded, or maybe the cell network in Orlando just sucks, but whatever it is, it's really annoying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The app as it exists today is full of neat features and easy to use. Groundspeak has obviously put in a lot of work to make it that way. They continue to take feedback from the users and make improvements, which is really all that we can ask for. I eagerly await the next update.</div>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-76442320858303058252010-10-10T05:17:00.000-07:002010-11-20T19:11:01.755-08:001st Annual Westside BBQ<div align="justify">Our official reintroduction to the world of geocaching came on August 1st when we attended the <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?wp=GC2ANJC&Submit6=Go">1st Annual Westside BBQ</a> at Magnolia Park in Apopka. The event was hosted by Jarrod88, Thinairmagic, and FamilyCacheFinders. This was our first geocaching event.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNd-72lvajk-QOmWI1bCZ05a4NnB2ye4NF4-v28igqqJvSYl0T-3uAVEbX82jBE5R40Bu-nsWPGMEEqrhm62xwCH1Mt2haoj6AIHqUbelL0xkWM7RxsqboaIiGCayr5DcVk45lD9-6MuYz/s1600/IMG_1959.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 238px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534386064990530402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNd-72lvajk-QOmWI1bCZ05a4NnB2ye4NF4-v28igqqJvSYl0T-3uAVEbX82jBE5R40Bu-nsWPGMEEqrhm62xwCH1Mt2haoj6AIHqUbelL0xkWM7RxsqboaIiGCayr5DcVk45lD9-6MuYz/s320/IMG_1959.JPG" /></a>When we arrived at Magnolia Park, we found our crew by looking for ruggedish cars and hoards of people looking at their hands. I had assumed that it would be a small gathering of 30 or so cachers, mainly because I RSVP'd on the Facebook page along with 29 others. I had also assumed that it would be "just a barbeque", with ridiculous amounts food, bugs, frisbees, and no organization. I was right about the tons of food part. By day's end, over 100 people attended, some of whom drove hours to be there. The whole event was well-managed, complete with a check-in table, raffle, and lots of cool TBs and geocoins to discover. Mayhem ensued when we attempted a group photo, but only for a minute. The addition of some random "wild" peacocks added a sense of whimsy you just don't get at most parks.<br /><br />After checking in, we were a bit...awkward. We didn't see anyone we knew and we'd been out-of-the-game so long, it was like starting at a new school in May. The burger-cooking phase of the bbq had not yet begun, so Brian and I set about finding the caches nearby. At the first one, we met team Shade's Brigade, a pair of very friendly, very retired geocachers. They were kind enough not to ditch us while I struggled with Brian's wheelchair off-road. It took us about an hour to leisurely stroll around the park and find three caches. We talked about caching, traveling, jobs, and the difference between peacocks and peahens. By the time we made it back to the picnic area, meat was hitting the grill and a few of our geobuddies had arrived. The sight of War1man & Mimi, Parkhoppers, Mljungquist, and Emeraldcowgirl made us feel like we were "back."<br /><br />From here on, it was more gastrofest than geoanything. Over fried chicken and potato salad, we swapped stories of caches past and put faces with log scribbles. There was one moment of discomfort when we were talking to a cacher we'd never met before, and I made a joke about stealing a geocoin (which I have <em>never</em> done)...and it did not go over well. Mental note: not everyone thinks I'm funny.<br /><br />After the food, there were raffles and prizes. Brian and I both won shiny new geocaches, so that was cool. Finally, we were corraled together for a group photo. It wasn't an easy shot, that's for damn sure.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZ3gmqKVN0P3xN5ExAin6OXI82Wfr0h26wC2M38WdyTyqZz9bHtYWDKLgoUFR3i_ZT06ROXOH8rwUMVaONQ7WXvIRQIPGHnhsPhWsyKRrpos2qzIfqkti6kwBFOxtPltzlR-HoLDPtwO-/s1600/Panorama.jpg"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 121px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541831959034173874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZ3gmqKVN0P3xN5ExAin6OXI82Wfr0h26wC2M38WdyTyqZz9bHtYWDKLgoUFR3i_ZT06ROXOH8rwUMVaONQ7WXvIRQIPGHnhsPhWsyKRrpos2qzIfqkti6kwBFOxtPltzlR-HoLDPtwO-/s320/Panorama.jpg" /></a>You can't see me in this picture. I'm in the back somewhere, content with the fact that I was there. We look forward to next year!Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-24584406933189601272010-08-08T06:46:00.000-07:002010-10-10T09:12:21.868-07:00The Long Road to 300 Finds<p align="justify">After three exhausting months post-surgery, Brian and I decided to take a much-needed mini vacation. I booked a super cheap room on Hotwire (highly recommend it). We ended up in a 7th story ocean-front balcony at the Doubletree on Indialantic beach. My first indication that we were going to have a good time was when the front desk person complimented my True Blood tee. The second was the free cookie (even though it was over-cooked). Oh yeah, I believe in signs.</p><p align="justify">The next morning, I woke up early in anticipation of a fantastic day. While Brian slept in, I started mapping out caches. Not that it did much good, the first few were duds. We encountered a veritable sea of muggles, plus, I made the mistake of heading south. This meant I was contstantly making lefts and u-turns; not an easy feat on a busy road near the beach. I resolved to drive south aimlessly and then cache our way back.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkSZqsqq4-J82o-6uX8veKXraYetW2dzZEfZwky-NNXtLXD6qaX2TRzloLLAaxZ1-wPm-OL2vY4tvWFY6CdNrO5k4lP2InV1goT5-bL-oek-EAmv7ysf2o_E5JnpJo2T3hN0o-bHBtICQ/s1600/IMG_1879.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 241px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526232532133446434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkSZqsqq4-J82o-6uX8veKXraYetW2dzZEfZwky-NNXtLXD6qaX2TRzloLLAaxZ1-wPm-OL2vY4tvWFY6CdNrO5k4lP2InV1goT5-bL-oek-EAmv7ysf2o_E5JnpJo2T3hN0o-bHBtICQ/s320/IMG_1879.JPG" /></a> <p align="justify">We drove for about 30 minutes and soon found ourselves far from the sunscreen-slathered beaches of Melbourne. I pulled over at the <a href="http://www.barrierislandcenter.com/">Barrier Island Sanctuary</a> to run a new list of caches. Lo and behold, there was one nearby on a trail maintained by the Sanctuary.<br /><br />Our first find of the day almost didn't happen when I spotted this banana spider. Despite their relative harmlessness, the mere sight of one practically induces an aneurism.<br /><br />Luckily, the cache wasn't over there.</p><p align="justify">This cache container was one I had never seen before. It was a green/gray jar about a foot tall with measurements listed on the side. Whatever it is, it's well-suited for geocaching. In the photo below you can see the cache, and the Sanctuary in the background.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXS5HK6mUk-r-AZHKTlfsAEDzXJxUlGogsnj3_P2G3j4j4NUj5cbyMOm_sQb9L1JE8XPnb0wol4guRwtn87ti9qVpUwpAj7WuFjPc1hnj4Ubl7KamiXsZfKMw5d2DzFrdPTn_hwXaty3FD/s1600/B3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990398419153042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXS5HK6mUk-r-AZHKTlfsAEDzXJxUlGogsnj3_P2G3j4j4NUj5cbyMOm_sQb9L1JE8XPnb0wol4guRwtn87ti9qVpUwpAj7WuFjPc1hnj4Ubl7KamiXsZfKMw5d2DzFrdPTn_hwXaty3FD/s320/B3.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify">Next, we headed a litte further south for some caches in/around Long Point recreation area. This cache took us a while to pinpoint due to bad reception. Turned out it was also hung in such a way that it was only visible from one angle - very clever.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOYUf4oy3NEEKksGqZObZ8VNLtcTYlckVqftKP7Od3_yvtossoEnR6RmHXh3hCSgtNh_5HWMvC5Pv44QYtITKxe_kTcbm6ZBeKY1h0OtBFUqPZaXBEUibNXvFuQU41hd8ESa0H_NSOap3/s1600/B4.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990391048073554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOYUf4oy3NEEKksGqZObZ8VNLtcTYlckVqftKP7Od3_yvtossoEnR6RmHXh3hCSgtNh_5HWMvC5Pv44QYtITKxe_kTcbm6ZBeKY1h0OtBFUqPZaXBEUibNXvFuQU41hd8ESa0H_NSOap3/s320/B4.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify"><br />I'm not really sure what the container is, though. It was a bit bigger than a 35mm, but the cap had these swirls of plastic. It reminded me of the bottles of soap bubbles I played with as a kid.</p><p align="justify">The next complication due to bad reception lead us past the next "planned" cache and onto the Isle of Redneck. Let's just say my European car wasn't exactly welcome. Luckily, there was a cache nearby, so we grabbed that one.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KVtQThicqUY3QTrdSW3ikt3I1qPPy0l66G15iefVr2VUOmBbYUEhv61T6qjIG7DYa6pS8fXrGDtBvL9cIGloQfGyDYYUv45xN_xixm01-vrHEgZlXxZYNlOomAVT5IXQzq98C2-MH5_Y/s1600/B5.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px 10px 0px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990381092566098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KVtQThicqUY3QTrdSW3ikt3I1qPPy0l66G15iefVr2VUOmBbYUEhv61T6qjIG7DYa6pS8fXrGDtBvL9cIGloQfGyDYYUv45xN_xixm01-vrHEgZlXxZYNlOomAVT5IXQzq98C2-MH5_Y/s320/B5.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify">I might not have been able to find this cache if some d-bag hadn't defaced it with a gold sticker. As it was originally intended, the cache was a small silver ziplock, stuck to a piece of metal via a magnet. Retrieval was further complicated by the location's natural shadow AND the wasp sentry guarding it. Snagging the cache wasn't too hard, but replacing it (lining up the magnets) attacted the attention of said wasps and I narrowly escaped without a sting.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPpvZbnAi5NqQ42E5anrZxpo0ftbBVJboyUFLaQBbv5fQtrKOL-7M4Jcvvu8aFOSujJhdroXpe6-33UTExdc_RvhXy2zY6KcXOTYuo5oVMsZjdvVS52z-sHpMgTkRCs0MxSfSZ8aDDobq/s1600/IMG_1897.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 10px 0px 20px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526245645136436514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPpvZbnAi5NqQ42E5anrZxpo0ftbBVJboyUFLaQBbv5fQtrKOL-7M4Jcvvu8aFOSujJhdroXpe6-33UTExdc_RvhXy2zY6KcXOTYuo5oVMsZjdvVS52z-sHpMgTkRCs0MxSfSZ8aDDobq/s320/IMG_1897.JPG" /></a></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkSZqsqq4-J82o-6uX8veKXraYetW2dzZEfZwky-NNXtLXD6qaX2TRzloLLAaxZ1-wPm-OL2vY4tvWFY6CdNrO5k4lP2InV1goT5-bL-oek-EAmv7ysf2o_E5JnpJo2T3hN0o-bHBtICQ/s1600/IMG_1879.JPG"></a><p align="justify">On our way out of the recreation area, we stopped to look for the cache we'd passed earlier. The coords weren't particularly accurate, so it took a while, but I was pretty impressed once I found it. The design was simple - a waterproof match container with some leaves glued to it. What made it tough was it's placement beneath a branch. You would expect the leaves there to be a bit darker, which is why it blends reasonably well.</p><p align="justify">The next cache I attempted was only difficult because I was not dressed appropriately. Shorts and flip flops were not the best choice for a sandy hill riddled with cactus, century plants, and cabbage palms. Case in point - whilst I scuttled up that particular hill, one of my flip flops shifted in the sand, I lost my balance, and left a blood sample on the leftmost plant. Yeah, I found the cache, but it wasn't worth blood loss.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_nq9-3y3n_sUK1yW9k7iGhyZIE737S0seguGNmkM5_ByqPn8l6vkixD_KlW_c2Wammzo83fjz5fEyY2RFjzH39exdPYI-RT1T2ZTLa42851FfvL15D-b7kCN4rc0_I6_unLJWalw-Np1d/s1600/B7.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497989634246554354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_nq9-3y3n_sUK1yW9k7iGhyZIE737S0seguGNmkM5_ByqPn8l6vkixD_KlW_c2Wammzo83fjz5fEyY2RFjzH39exdPYI-RT1T2ZTLa42851FfvL15D-b7kCN4rc0_I6_unLJWalw-Np1d/s320/B7.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify">What happened next, I am not proud of. It's a period of my life I would like to forget. And it all started with those simplest of phrases, "are you hungry?" The answer was yes. Ravenously hungry. Deliriously hungry. Hungry enough for us to spend the next 90 minutes driving in circles and screaming at each other. Actually, most of that was me, but Brian snuck a few zingers in there. After checking out several places and finding them closed at weird times or just not to our liking, we finally settled on <a href="http://www.bunkysindialantic.com/bunkysrawbarflyer2.htm">Bunky's Raw Bar</a>. The food wasn't amazing, but it was good, and cheap, and the restaurant was filled with a variety of saltwater tanks. We sat next to one with a puking eel and hermit crabs well-versed in the art of futility. Seriously. It was cool.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGJJYBOZl9QIDGRQCok_oYyYpUmUS-4ntMOTw-sob_TObheEg3RQUY-eM9k_FD0UW1UWlzl88f5OY8DG7x19251wkUgib2XbwgZaHP5LgvdhfXp-N7HOug_cBGdzGxG2DSNOw1YG_AC1k/s1600/B8.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497989623254787890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGJJYBOZl9QIDGRQCok_oYyYpUmUS-4ntMOTw-sob_TObheEg3RQUY-eM9k_FD0UW1UWlzl88f5OY8DG7x19251wkUgib2XbwgZaHP5LgvdhfXp-N7HOug_cBGdzGxG2DSNOw1YG_AC1k/s320/B8.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify">Gastronomically satisfied, we continued the pursuit of 300 finds. Before Bunky's we stood at 298. I wish I'd found just one more cache before this one, making this one<em> </em>#300, because it will be on my top 10 for a while. This cache was a deceptively easy 4/1. The first step was searching this walkway for the cache, which I found in about 2 minutes. Since locating the cache is the easy part, I will momentarily break my policy of not naming caches. This one is called <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?guid=09d7ccd6-a7af-4175-bf47-5aa62372469d">Frogger</a>, aptly named because of how it feels to dart back and forth on the walkway. </p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGESJkaNSauleTlXQw-bRCzhgW7nk45HtjIsuYGJCTjFNoage4aAs6mdALFizVxUHX1mXMz1SPwt73dM21xZEANbTFxKw5_xathnodw735YucbYNAht7sFrg07NNpp_cjnflbn-ncYljKC/s1600/B9.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497989617995920146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGESJkaNSauleTlXQw-bRCzhgW7nk45HtjIsuYGJCTjFNoage4aAs6mdALFizVxUHX1mXMz1SPwt73dM21xZEANbTFxKw5_xathnodw735YucbYNAht7sFrg07NNpp_cjnflbn-ncYljKC/s320/B9.JPG" /></a> <p align="right">I found the bison tube hanging from a piece of fishing wire in the triangularish space between two metal pipes and the concrete wall. I figured all I needed was to snag it with a pair of tweezers and I would be home free, but it wasn't that easy. Turns out, the bison tube was too large to fit between the wall and the pipes, which meant that my only option was to lift it out through the top. </p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzUw_jWq0lic-PKFXIxdjVZ1Iokd3XyntclIGhpZEeRRw7t78qNYFRygE3a_xqU0e1Mo4S0btgGcA3GZmpf8dfHW2h_NDw8SiAxj8a5XvxKENuhqM68rNyY9hixiDt91kyxJ5bEqVNwuE/s1600/IMG_1905.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526273395835595074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzUw_jWq0lic-PKFXIxdjVZ1Iokd3XyntclIGhpZEeRRw7t78qNYFRygE3a_xqU0e1Mo4S0btgGcA3GZmpf8dfHW2h_NDw8SiAxj8a5XvxKENuhqM68rNyY9hixiDt91kyxJ5bEqVNwuE/s320/IMG_1905.JPG" /></a> <p align="left">Oh, not so fast. The way out was blocked by rocks clerverly wedged in spots where chunks of concrete were missing. I say cleverly because the rocks were not actually removable, just shift-able. Armed with tweezers in one hand and a pen in the other, I had to scoot the rocks into the right positions using a motion that I call "fruious knitting."</p><br /><p align="justify">Once I had done all that (a good 20 minutes later) I was finally able to snake the cache out from it's hiding spot. I was pretty freakin' proud of myself.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvecaQg24QG_et2ILSkaZvjBtDQ-xUJneBE2xcdHH7eA2LKM6tcCXkQX1RhgQ-czMtrIzJy162c1TCSKJZIhiQIvCfyGTuhM6fHcNhBnjVyfKKlyh9F-5y-ksHjO1kI3fQBcGLQYZ6ka7/s1600/C1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497988877965506514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvecaQg24QG_et2ILSkaZvjBtDQ-xUJneBE2xcdHH7eA2LKM6tcCXkQX1RhgQ-czMtrIzJy162c1TCSKJZIhiQIvCfyGTuhM6fHcNhBnjVyfKKlyh9F-5y-ksHjO1kI3fQBcGLQYZ6ka7/s320/C1.JPG" /></a>Finally, we reached the ominous #300. The first candidate didn't work out. As I stood at the edge of some trees assessing the best way in, I heard someone behind me say "There's a cache is in there." I ignored it, for fear, this muggle would go find the cache for me, which has happened before. And then they said it again. I turned around to see a scruffy homeless (presumably) guy, who now said, "Cats! There's ferral cats in there." Oh.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzUw_jWq0lic-PKFXIxdjVZ1Iokd3XyntclIGhpZEeRRw7t78qNYFRygE3a_xqU0e1Mo4S0btgGcA3GZmpf8dfHW2h_NDw8SiAxj8a5XvxKENuhqM68rNyY9hixiDt91kyxJ5bEqVNwuE/s1600/IMG_1905.JPG"></a><p align="justify">So we moved on to the next cache. Following suit with what seemed to be a huge problem in this area, a muggle was hanging out at a table near GZ and a group was setting up for some kind of party. The set-up crew was totally occupied, but the guy was in a position to block by 300th find. We sat in the car for a few minutes assessing the situation, watching this guy shift in his seat, hunched over <em>something</em>. We narrowed the something down to a book or a can of beer. Whatever it was, he seemed pretty focused on it, so I decided to head for the trees behind him. </p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxLrMvxIjvXLMdmFMT3C-QHpF8TqX9EFkcxyiCyRJxLFNKVtMPZDcXYCcG8G20nsPrBlyE1jAeX1tk08MVFv60iMUg6yXvt33JyCtQoUTBbFEm6KoBIgJ6YWJ4rQi8ZELzeRpG4S_nRA8/s1600/IMG_1916.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526277768609156258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxLrMvxIjvXLMdmFMT3C-QHpF8TqX9EFkcxyiCyRJxLFNKVtMPZDcXYCcG8G20nsPrBlyE1jAeX1tk08MVFv60iMUg6yXvt33JyCtQoUTBbFEm6KoBIgJ6YWJ4rQi8ZELzeRpG4S_nRA8/s320/IMG_1916.JPG" /></a> I was successful, I suppose. My plan was to walk confidently and acknowledge him with a smile or a hello or something when he looked up...which he totally did not. Nope, that book was way more interesting than the chick scurrying towards the trees. He also didn't notice when I darted in and out of the trees avoiding spider webs. I can only assume this happens all the time.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhak2Xgc9A530WmcOSGsq8zg7N3Mw_GtJ91uAvHFO9_-v9qkA_EyFDgTJuY4hFawNuNJfk9Mwv3KqFJm-P5jhQLQLKQkw2zP_eZcy0nZk38Iq8WhBng8Jgy4fIJCDBme-LuLTadBuzteK10/s1600/IMG_1913.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 306px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526278150426224018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhak2Xgc9A530WmcOSGsq8zg7N3Mw_GtJ91uAvHFO9_-v9qkA_EyFDgTJuY4hFawNuNJfk9Mwv3KqFJm-P5jhQLQLKQkw2zP_eZcy0nZk38Iq8WhBng8Jgy4fIJCDBme-LuLTadBuzteK10/s320/IMG_1913.JPG" /></a>Anyway, I found the cache, pushing me out of the 200's forever. It was not as satisfying a moment as I had hoped. </p><p align="justify">Needless to say, I was...sweaty and Brian was in desperate need of a pool, but there was there was still time for one last cache. On the way back to the hotel was a cache that has great potential, but is in need of a little fine tuning. </p><p align="justify">With a fresh coat of red paint and a little more thought put into the camo (chunks of concrete just don't cut it), this cache could really blend in with it's surroundings.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGE0jqQKrEhnszMi6lcZAeCup2KuOh-lZ9mzY8HXcOXGR-c4WscVEdcEQqJpwnhxdc6n-TdnZx8So2BES6vwIsS4iqqGnDeIQ3ismLa_Y7d_G9tth9EP8gn3b4rqE4xkNTYfwQneopqPfg/s1600/IMG_1925.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526278888675418514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGE0jqQKrEhnszMi6lcZAeCup2KuOh-lZ9mzY8HXcOXGR-c4WscVEdcEQqJpwnhxdc6n-TdnZx8So2BES6vwIsS4iqqGnDeIQ3ismLa_Y7d_G9tth9EP8gn3b4rqE4xkNTYfwQneopqPfg/s320/IMG_1925.JPG" /></a> The only thing that made this cache a tiny bit difficult was that I wasn't expecting it. Upon seeing a large, red, metal structure, I immediately whipped out my mirror and started looking for a magnano. I was wrong. *Gasp!*</p><p align="justify">After what was arguably my crankiest cache session yet, we went back to the hotel, and we relaxed. We watched some TV, hung out on our balcony and watched the ocean, and swam in the hotel pool. I was so relaxed that when some bratty little kid walked around the pool kicking water at people, I said, "Cut that out, you're being very rude," instead of tripping her.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtQGF6za-ks-lyK2VY4jyXhE7TXq-hmikAgPIFNvguM2XdxyR84p3oBjaQLpbfQ5ZWzmtHBkQGgVMC5QNq7AlcS7j4Pl39H9A1YwbWeV_Vkhne2QSRkhxS_Oe_rVnrHPAQJaoFWGhxIH4/s1600/IMG_1929.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526279663687105426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtQGF6za-ks-lyK2VY4jyXhE7TXq-hmikAgPIFNvguM2XdxyR84p3oBjaQLpbfQ5ZWzmtHBkQGgVMC5QNq7AlcS7j4Pl39H9A1YwbWeV_Vkhne2QSRkhxS_Oe_rVnrHPAQJaoFWGhxIH4/s320/IMG_1929.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvs4gASdEFKvk81G1x4V-5eC3ERzhFo4qzezNAnoXKIVLhiHCV_CjKCRflgrD7UnA1qvOR9tGjIbXvmyskc1Kc5nHA9SUNzv_tS4QxVQES48iPC90vgiPnEsIlzFKfFulYlI6pxSQPm352/s1600/C6.JPG"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzUw_jWq0lic-PKFXIxdjVZ1Iokd3XyntclIGhpZEeRRw7t78qNYFRygE3a_xqU0e1Mo4S0btgGcA3GZmpf8dfHW2h_NDw8SiAxj8a5XvxKENuhqM68rNyY9hixiDt91kyxJ5bEqVNwuE/s1600/IMG_1905.JPG"></a></a>One of the highlights of our little trip was seeing the sea turtle mounds on the beach and u-shaped turtle tracks in the sand. I can't even tell you how much I wished we would get to see a hatching. Can you imagine how amazing it would be to fling baby turtles to the freedom of the ocean? Maybe fling is the wrong word. Maybe, stand-guard-and-shoo-birds-away is a better plan. Either way, I want it.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVFCNvWQvstSwuOCvvEmqH0c80cVUSoAo7XBy5Gxvv6gpPmZ90V5UM2c6yfFC6eFP65yQX53H0xeiXntLKDdtiKJ7f6XXRdCZX_zhpsxDFPUhZ4axgGIheLRNiogyJw2KTnW_MT_jIX2g/s1600/IMG_1933.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526264420486126290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVFCNvWQvstSwuOCvvEmqH0c80cVUSoAo7XBy5Gxvv6gpPmZ90V5UM2c6yfFC6eFP65yQX53H0xeiXntLKDdtiKJ7f6XXRdCZX_zhpsxDFPUhZ4axgGIheLRNiogyJw2KTnW_MT_jIX2g/s320/IMG_1933.JPG" /></a> <p align="justify">The morning of our departure, I took the opportunity to do another kind of seeking: metal detecting on the beach (a special shoutout to EyeoftheSeeker and his lovely wife for this super awesome Christmas gift). I neglected to bring any "tools", so I made do with a glass from our room (for digging) and a plastic bag (for booty). Despite getting up before sunrise, there was a surprising number of people milling around on the beach. The thought of almost-certain embarassment almost sent me back to the hotel room, but then I looked up and saw Brian pointing the camera at me from our balcony. I took a deep breath, readjusted the headphones, and set about waving the metal detector evenly and slowly above the sand. My finds included many blank stares, several bottle caps, and a rusty fondue fork. I can say with some confidence that I saved <em>someone</em> from a nasty bout with tetanus.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjClG_ozYia1yFFc04MmrL4bLXOkUaQ9VCZLxqwfYZvFPS_z69haMcSpBzhzjXsPtrXXXC5y6pBIlqkudOFkzFGj6IsvLAYPazOuj5UrmzCnx_nsNTbSJtkCz0iSNGOntRupdwRSS1duyXs/s1600/C8.JPG"></a>Sadly, my finds ended there. We hit a few caches on the way back to the mainland, but with no luck.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigytIJSSxXCwP-4wqBgl5WsSZQ1-OLDn36W7g4WF8QNPojx-VhXZbWkjtJkohmw0GfRxx5ErTVoiC4xEWLqwozuLnSY7amDcUmLLlMaRsx4x9btV741lUvCwj8FvySrHfX_kre1ePq2MMh/s1600/IMG_1946.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526280385738557730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigytIJSSxXCwP-4wqBgl5WsSZQ1-OLDn36W7g4WF8QNPojx-VhXZbWkjtJkohmw0GfRxx5ErTVoiC4xEWLqwozuLnSY7amDcUmLLlMaRsx4x9btV741lUvCwj8FvySrHfX_kre1ePq2MMh/s320/IMG_1946.JPG" /></a> We almost came home with a new cat, though. We found him in a park doing the most adorable stretches near where a cache should have been. You may have noticed that his ear is a little ragged. That means he's been fixed and "marked" by the county. Our cat was born feral and has the same clipped ear. It reminds me of the thug-wannabes who shave a line in their eyebrow to signify allegiance to something. <p>Thus concludes my quest to 300. 400 feels a lifetime away. </p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-92127009929047509892010-07-25T15:10:00.000-07:002010-08-23T08:15:55.573-07:00The Triumphant Return of Evelev & Brian<p align="justify">Did I jump up and down in excitement? No. Did I shed a tear of joy? No. I dusted off my backpack. Then, I wore it around the house while I packed an ammo can with bottled water and snacks. After a 111-day hiatus, Evelev (and Brian) returned to the world of geocaching.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m4V8Kybtolwm9uKkbCUWILy7sKrtrD3Qq0O4kORfxh1ae7MBkfAws7DneVKBG1c-Lj6PWWQ0FIyYR2iESKP7ce-PkcaKjflmXpNutb9UGUQGE98Egcl6THzkoXfMCevDWixqxn_KaluS/s1600/A1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497991554819921954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m4V8Kybtolwm9uKkbCUWILy7sKrtrD3Qq0O4kORfxh1ae7MBkfAws7DneVKBG1c-Lj6PWWQ0FIyYR2iESKP7ce-PkcaKjflmXpNutb9UGUQGE98Egcl6THzkoXfMCevDWixqxn_KaluS/s320/A1.JPG" /></a>Here's us at our first find post-surgery, a nano on a guardrail. Our latest geocaching experiences are different than they once were. There is no quick park and grab. Instead of jumping out of the car and into the nearest bush, we now have to assess the terrain/distance and decide if the cache is best-approached by walker or wheelchair. For this first cache, Brian used the walker to get to the guardrail, and then he sat on it, scooting around to look for the cache. I "found" the cache, but being that it was right under where Brian had decided to stop looking, I think it was a gimme.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrvLG4-Za0cP-Y8L0Hjzif2b0f3uxIWD_HlpRupjWQmwUoEnRDS_5U0bKSEOACapRBBXuTk8EqHrGlaCSysZ2kh_tJ_wFIASq0pV1C2w10yEK7zjCfaHkQNO4ENimF90OdCuVAhIu5GFs/s1600/A2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497991547274486098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrvLG4-Za0cP-Y8L0Hjzif2b0f3uxIWD_HlpRupjWQmwUoEnRDS_5U0bKSEOACapRBBXuTk8EqHrGlaCSysZ2kh_tJ_wFIASq0pV1C2w10yEK7zjCfaHkQNO4ENimF90OdCuVAhIu5GFs/s320/A2.JPG" /> <p align="justify"></a>Magnet-on-a-guardrail is one of those caches that is so hard the first time you encounter it, but basically screams at you each time thereafter. Finding them is now much easier with the aid of a telescoping mirror-on-a-stick (courtesy of Vikki4FSU). Useful for finding caches, and cleaning their teeth.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE69x-1nukQyXHT8F1FCWKRiagFDIv23Rm5wgm5xx1w2My-XbKron8cAvDsscGgzZN6K251W4a-Pi34fjUhfBllB3LYLgKqY28jGbLFJQkuzK_sl6HS-GyuUx4RZ1TsBRyRfTa-gC2q_Xb/s1600/Mirror.jpg"></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508620269725198754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE69x-1nukQyXHT8F1FCWKRiagFDIv23Rm5wgm5xx1w2My-XbKron8cAvDsscGgzZN6K251W4a-Pi34fjUhfBllB3LYLgKqY28jGbLFJQkuzK_sl6HS-GyuUx4RZ1TsBRyRfTa-gC2q_Xb/s320/Mirror.jpg" /></a>At the suggestion of War1man, the remainder of our caches for the day were located on or near the Seminole Wekiva Trail. The trail is paved, and mostly level, making it ideal for wheels of all-sorts. The caches weren't quite so friendly, but the path was. Mostly. <p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWptqQa7unreiCc0NF5DsbySg29NBfGgoN6ZFNFWr1mg3Dbeblf1H-jnyx2Ih5KHdXO9EIJ-zcQ0EwOR98IQPJurX4B5ReuNv3R1L3C3GjItPgv3SZWuiKWRkmKKhwf4rmUA3GjLuWmuj/s1600/A3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497991539448024690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWptqQa7unreiCc0NF5DsbySg29NBfGgoN6ZFNFWr1mg3Dbeblf1H-jnyx2Ih5KHdXO9EIJ-zcQ0EwOR98IQPJurX4B5ReuNv3R1L3C3GjItPgv3SZWuiKWRkmKKhwf4rmUA3GjLuWmuj/s320/A3.JPG" /></p><p align="justify"></a>The first cache required me to enter the woods, by myself. Spiders everywhere. After I found the cache and emerged from the wilderness, I felt like I was a mile away. In actuality, I was about 20 feet from where I entered. *sigh*</p><p align="justify">The next cache was definitely not Brian-accessible, but as I approached he said, "look in that log," and the cache was there. Team Evelev works. Mostly.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhyphenhyphenWeww5tNz1UZ8QwwAZDczISr8LwPXt1Sh0bhMbmY3Qg_Nb3NDFa8gxAAuwDt7DiNVY69K7MAeNldBQrbpy-sSEa_7wbvKE97uPVbzlVOxwShg6JojbZs2lGHdEeHFxeFLuEE4MlHCye/s1600/A4.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497991527615470818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhyphenhyphenWeww5tNz1UZ8QwwAZDczISr8LwPXt1Sh0bhMbmY3Qg_Nb3NDFa8gxAAuwDt7DiNVY69K7MAeNldBQrbpy-sSEa_7wbvKE97uPVbzlVOxwShg6JojbZs2lGHdEeHFxeFLuEE4MlHCye/s320/A4.JPG" /></a> Finally, we arrived at a cache that was Brian-accessible. He looks all non-chalant, but believe me, he was stoked.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Ke5cyf7yxBZgGWM0BRuRejbUCp150mBDIL-M_8n2uPsYbOflJsSF-hSixfpoNo2XXbZyLhTcK6uzXTD9f78djOOzvzEBTKF9fMzemH5Aykfz1Fgph0MskY-B-QxOINIUdawvXvfPiala/s1600/A5.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497991524368232226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Ke5cyf7yxBZgGWM0BRuRejbUCp150mBDIL-M_8n2uPsYbOflJsSF-hSixfpoNo2XXbZyLhTcK6uzXTD9f78djOOzvzEBTKF9fMzemH5Aykfz1Fgph0MskY-B-QxOINIUdawvXvfPiala/s320/A5.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify">Next, we off-roaded the chair through a substance that looked like grass, but was actually sand. So, I ditched Brian a few feet from the cache and found it sitting on a tree with absolutey no camo. I attempted to take a nice picture of us with the cache. Brian photo-bombed it.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uqTsUNIqBTMgRf6iX4tSWSvFmZJxtU5dVSf8PvsBZR4TRsVSo-Crx0MHh7eE2OrbKK_XkqtcK1nL2Wgc0XLWieUI8R03a3lPfksaAIUewOIYJQVMxoFsZtIi-rX-caumE_18ENfLXYX4/s1600/A6.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508618910272630386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uqTsUNIqBTMgRf6iX4tSWSvFmZJxtU5dVSf8PvsBZR4TRsVSo-Crx0MHh7eE2OrbKK_XkqtcK1nL2Wgc0XLWieUI8R03a3lPfksaAIUewOIYJQVMxoFsZtIi-rX-caumE_18ENfLXYX4/s320/A6.JPG" /></a>While rehiding the cache, we noticed these markings on the tree. Brian says a bear made them. Brian, who is obviously a bear expert.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvokvl5QoAF4l10ghqmK-10glaVHPJVAC6ANHTtx40wJk-dB8LDZ9rD-f-CnJZrrAgUHyXhS3J4kO7t9kEunp04B8mqJL-R6FtLp4598Y9ecQZtPFPDZJfm85sdqVUAAGaMnqgFuqYTKs/s1600/A7.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990934539754130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvokvl5QoAF4l10ghqmK-10glaVHPJVAC6ANHTtx40wJk-dB8LDZ9rD-f-CnJZrrAgUHyXhS3J4kO7t9kEunp04B8mqJL-R6FtLp4598Y9ecQZtPFPDZJfm85sdqVUAAGaMnqgFuqYTKs/s320/A7.JPG" /></a>Against my better judgement, we ventured down the sandy path ahead. If you've never pushed a wheelchair in sand in 90 degree heat with 2000% humidity, just try it. I expended a tremendous amount of effort to find one cache. It was a super cool cache, but it still only counts for one.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxc_TCFxW-8DanSScE_Yyyy4q1jdBUERjA9E5-4KmIovAt0L070AInDehqWqV7cZwlJBUEZ3T0tX3ZEkcmDcm-_iSaiRD38N9oZCzg3j60HcC3UckE_ZtZ61gsHjFJBEZhWPlxh2D-Nvj/s1600/A8.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990925909897874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxc_TCFxW-8DanSScE_Yyyy4q1jdBUERjA9E5-4KmIovAt0L070AInDehqWqV7cZwlJBUEZ3T0tX3ZEkcmDcm-_iSaiRD38N9oZCzg3j60HcC3UckE_ZtZ61gsHjFJBEZhWPlxh2D-Nvj/s320/A8.JPG" /></a></p><p>I've made a point of not kissing caches (not even FTFs) but I couldn't pass up this photo op. Plus I needed the motivation for the death march that ensued.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oKkzEHIbsW5CQwLMzIRb2LigWGgoAhL9ohx1R9FZmZ3R_t-hUNmVG09dWug4u6O0FAe-KPhIRKiMctOjMlmqc2YRKKpNPb5sMGV_ER1V7_JA0b66m2b4V1xflyfzzgQaBKF4OwTdcexf/s1600/A9.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990922635727938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oKkzEHIbsW5CQwLMzIRb2LigWGgoAhL9ohx1R9FZmZ3R_t-hUNmVG09dWug4u6O0FAe-KPhIRKiMctOjMlmqc2YRKKpNPb5sMGV_ER1V7_JA0b66m2b4V1xflyfzzgQaBKF4OwTdcexf/s320/A9.JPG" /></a></p><p align="justify">If you've seen Lost, this tumorous tree will remind you of the sonic fences used to keep the smoke monster at bay (we don't know why, it just does). This should have been a clue that the remainder of our foray would be exhausting, confusing, drawn-out, and ultimately pointless. First, the geocaching app failed. I don't know if it was a signal issue, iPhone4 issue, or an evelev issue. It just didn't work. So I tried to look for the next cache, with what little information I could remember. After about 20 minutes of bushwhacking (in a circle), I decided the cache must be on the other side of a nearby fence and resigned to a DNF.</p><p align="justify">At this point, we were exhausted and only about three-tenth's of a mile from the car. Three-tenths as a crow flies. A crow, I am not. In between us and the car was a ditch, then a hill, all covered in grass, and a bunch of very active softball fields. One option was to go back the way we came which was easily over a mile, about a 1/3 of which was on sand and partially uphill. But Brian, in his infinite wisdom, suggested we brave the ditch, the hill, and the grass. It's easy to say that when you're the one in the chair. So...I positioned myself behind the wheelchair, took a running start into the ditch and road the momentum most of the way up the hill. Then I struggled like hell to get us both the rest of the way. That itself was a miracle. Then we began our journey through uneven grass past the softball fields. I was narrowly missed by an errant softball, believe it or not, and nearly tipped the wheelchair several times.</p><p align="justify">I learned two things. First, I'm a freakin' ox. And second, we need a wheelchair with skis. Somehow, we made it back to the car. And somehow, Brian talked me into making another attempt at the DNF from the other side of the fence. While he stayed with the car, I hiked quickly back to the cache. Now that I had a signal again, it seriously looked like the cache was on the other side of the fence (the one I had just been on). I spent 30 minutes looking - 27 of which I thought about how to hop this 6' chain link fence. After several visions of getting my jeans or boots caught, falling and breaking my ankle, or impaling my eyeball on some exposed chain link (it happens)...not to mention all of the above scenarios PLUS spiders, I gave up. I shrugged back to the car and we went home. It was a good day of finds, marred by over an hour of misery. The things we do in the name of a find.</p><p align="justify">This cache doesn't really fit into this blog posting, but it deserves honorable mention because I found it within the same week. I've seen these before, so it wasn't tough for me to find, but it made me realize how my perception has changed. To geocachers, this bolt couldn't stick out more if it was glowing. Most muggles wouldn't give it a second thought.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUtriLBB-I55jFYhf30SHiKZu_CZ0jbXoYwpX3j1X_6ZfHcSbJQOwdS7HlZMCdi_dxQHqVXwUgpHrY1MdaWBum0SAFnyFw_IYG8fiMfcgagNRBBrCdfgFe-L0Ty7rgX7pPCbF2oj5qULpR/s1600/A10.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990912163207970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUtriLBB-I55jFYhf30SHiKZu_CZ0jbXoYwpX3j1X_6ZfHcSbJQOwdS7HlZMCdi_dxQHqVXwUgpHrY1MdaWBum0SAFnyFw_IYG8fiMfcgagNRBBrCdfgFe-L0Ty7rgX7pPCbF2oj5qULpR/s320/A10.JPG" /></a>And this is just to show what awesome pictures my iPhone 4 takes. Speaking of which, I will be reviewing the iPhone 4 for caching in a future post. Stay tuned.</p><p align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQR1tqgATK_kBJAtcyXl-1g-1CIK_xHmjWoOgKDicP3lriUkB6OjuWinzPv2yDrdBgnuYhrHbmO1yVBLBVVkZanJseMB3XGanftc6CSUXDkoI71_FL-2EuWCXn6XT5fAQv7zegHPjvUzlD/s1600/B1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497990408251873682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQR1tqgATK_kBJAtcyXl-1g-1CIK_xHmjWoOgKDicP3lriUkB6OjuWinzPv2yDrdBgnuYhrHbmO1yVBLBVVkZanJseMB3XGanftc6CSUXDkoI71_FL-2EuWCXn6XT5fAQv7zegHPjvUzlD/s320/B1.JPG" /></a></p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-24592761740327667142010-07-11T12:22:00.000-07:002010-07-11T12:37:28.944-07:00Temporarily Archived<p>First, let me firmly state that I have not abandoned this blog. I love this blog, and I love that people find value in it. When Brian had his (first) surgery and I knew team Evelev would be out of commission for a bit, I was a teeny bit excited. A break from actual geocaching meant that I would finally have an opportunity to develop the article ideas brewing in my head. But it didn’t work out that way.</p><br /><p>You should know that I have written, edited, trashed, and re-written this very post several times over the past month. Every time I start writing, I mosey-on for a bit like normal, and suddenly I find myself in downward spiral towards the melodramatic swamp of self-pity (there might be a cache there). Somewhere deep in the rational part of my brain, I knew publishing that crap was more destructive than not writing at all. This a blog, about geocaching, not an episode of Blossom. With no new geocaching experiences to keep me on-track, I basically put the blog into cryosleep/medically-induced coma, until I felt creative again.</p><br /><p>Am I feeling creative now? Not remotely, nor do I have any new geo-perspective to add. To be honest, thinking about caches-past is a little (cue the violins) painful. Everybody has new stories to tell, new accomplishments to boast, and I...don’t. I just miss it. I miss writing.</p><br /><p>Now, dry your eyes, and hang up with the 911 operator. I’m not getting ready to jump off a cliff. I’m not in some state of depression and my life is not that bad. It’s just really busy and exhausting right now.</p><br /><p>ALL of that being said, it’s really flattering that people stop by. With no new posts, I’ve still had 477 hits (and made 8 cents in advertising revenue...woo). I don’t know when I’ll be a regular in the geocommunity again. I will tell you that every week I plan to write, I think about new articles, and then I just don’t get around to writing them. So, maybe next week, maybe next year. My ground zero is still right here.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-33414125388975346882010-04-19T08:56:00.000-07:002010-05-02T20:35:36.283-07:00The Next Frontier<p>First, I must provide an update on the status of team Evelev. As I mentioned before, Brian had back surgery on April 2nd. He spent the next two weeks in inpatient physical therapy. His recovery was going extremely well, until April 17th when he had an emergency apendectomy. By the time he went into surgery, his appendix had ruptured. So began a longer and more arduous recovery than we ever anticipated.</p><br /><p>He came home a little over a week ago. Since then, I've spent 18+ hours a day helping Brian, studying for finals, working, and reclaiming our home. After three weeks of doing little more in this house than sleeping, our beautiful new home turned into <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord_of_the_Flies">Lord of the Flies</a>. The dog is Piggy, the cat is Jack, and the bird is somewhere in between. Our lawn turned yellow-ish, which became the talk of the neighbordhood. One neightbor actually called Brian to tattle on me. I can't wait to get back to my normal, boring life. I appreciate it a lot more now.</p> <br /><p>It will be a while longer before we get back to geocaching. That's ok, I was obviously FTF-addicted. This is like my own form of rehab. I haven't hallucinated any disembodied babies on the ceiling yet, so I guess I'm doing ok.</p><br /><p>When we do we get back out there, and we will, it will be with some modifications. Brian might be in a wheelchair for a while longer. It won't be permanent, but recovery takes time. We'll probably start out with a steady diet of park and grabs, then we'll work up to parks and eventually woods.</p><br /><p>The other day I came across <a href="http://www.handicaching.com">Handicaching.com</a>, which allows users to re-rate caches on a slightly different scale. I went through my past 10 caches and couldn't find any that had been re-rated. Then I realized they only have 21,700 caches re-rated. I guess it's not that popular, but it's a fantastic concept.</p><br /><p>The most recent re-rated cache is <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?guid=268e62e1-e0e9-4509-94be-9b0a65269ca4">GC10KX7</a>, a 1/1.5 in Australia. The <a href="http://www.handicaching.com/show.php?waypoint=GC10KX7">new rating</a> on handicaching.com keeps the 1 for difficulty, but increases the terrain to 5. The rater notes "impossible for a wheelchair" due to rough/bumpy terrain with small-moderate obstructions (branches, vegetation, etc). To be fair, the cache page includes an attribute for "not wheelchair accessible." And, according to <a href="http://www.cacheopedia.com/wiki/Geocaching.com_Rating_System#Half_Stars">cacheopedia.com</a>, "a 1½-star terrain rating could indicate a very easy hike (easier than typical 2-star terrain), but a cache location that is not wheelchair accessible." So, it's not that the original rating is wrong, but the handicaching.com rating provides more information.</p><br /><p>To do my part, I rated a cache I grabbed a few weeks ago, <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?guid=c3630c4d-9f8c-4ab1-a3d3-53addda2b671">GC23HCP</a>. If you have nothing better to do, here's<a href="http://www.handicaching.com/show.php?waypoint=GC23HCP"> my rating.</a> The cache description is really honest about this cache, so it's not like I'm making a difference, but it makes me feel useful. I'd like to get into the habit of re-rating caches for handicaching.com...we'll see.</p><br /><p>What I can say for sure is that we are about to evolve as geocachers. It should be a good experience, like holding your toothbrush with the other hand. A little strange at first, but we'll get used to it. One of the beautiful things about geocaching is the flexibility it offers. We will definitely put that to the test.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-46416647315966529502010-04-11T19:46:00.000-07:002010-04-11T21:56:27.596-07:00And this one time, when I was geocaching...<p>This Tuesday, April 13th, marks one year since I found my first geocache.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB01G5V9qZqmoWLz9GxTV2-Qecd-kSnOLAAuWjCmCzVvW4WWaRU4vwZbln5fKrSw_FKrY3hiIUboDTf0X5YnCMoS2C8F15GcqVufEGdOwJBNmhQ1-mFC7eGSa8cOR9iuwmBffogL5GNUzo/s1600/BP_Ev_w_Cache_4-13-09.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB01G5V9qZqmoWLz9GxTV2-Qecd-kSnOLAAuWjCmCzVvW4WWaRU4vwZbln5fKrSw_FKrY3hiIUboDTf0X5YnCMoS2C8F15GcqVufEGdOwJBNmhQ1-mFC7eGSa8cOR9iuwmBffogL5GNUzo/s320/BP_Ev_w_Cache_4-13-09.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459107667826379026" /></a><br /><p>As much as I hate to admit this, it was actually the 8th cache I looked for. I chalk it up to my lone-wolf style of geocaching, but on the down-low, it probably had a lot to do with geo-tantrums. Don't act like you've never had one.</p><br /><p>I don't feel like I've accomplished much in my first year, but it has certainly altered my perspective. Not a day goes by that I don't look at a light pole or guard rail and wonder if there is a cache there. When I see someone milling around on the side of the road, I mutter, "geocaching?" My purse now includes a flashlight and a mirror. I never carried a mirror before, but I do now, and I owe many, many finds to it.</p><br /><p>The most significant change in my life is that I no longer experience afternoons with nothing to do. An unfound cache is always nearby. When I run errands, I usually take a look at what caches are on the way. If Brian and I leave town for a few days, we always make to time to explore new territory. I even look for easy heel-friendly terrain ratings on my lunch break. Geocaching is always in the back of my head.</p><br /><p>What have I learned? Spiders, while still out to get me, are not nearly as abundant as I thought. Not everyone is watching me, and the ones that are do not automatically assume I am a terrorist (mostly). Stealth isn't about ninja-like quickness, it's about looking like you belong. One of the easiest ways to deter muggles is to acknowledge them - wave and be friendly, they usually get spooked and leave. Other geocachers are not my competitors (mostly), they are the most interesting and decent people you will find. Water is the most destructive force on the planet. My dog hates geocaching, while everyone else I have introduced loves it. And finally: anything, <em>anything</em>, could be a cache. You just don't know until you wiggle it.</p><br /><p>The best stories come out of the geocaching, and I have definitely bulked up my arsenal. I look forward to many more years of finding nanos, ammo cans, pill bottles, and 35mm film cannisters. My GZ is right here.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-79187386357685808372010-04-04T14:05:00.000-07:002010-04-05T18:08:28.934-07:00Skeletons in the Ammo Closet<p>As some of you know, Team Evelev is temporarily out of commission. Last Friday, Brian had surgery to untether his spinal cord (don’t ask me how that happens) and remove tumors and scar tissue. His recovery is almost on-schedule, though we were a bit delayed by a spinal fluid leak (ick, I know...) Today, he was cleared to start moving around, but walking is a challenge. On his last day in the hospital, I think we’ll get him in a wheel chair and try to grab the mutli cache here. I can see the starting coordinates from his window.</p><br /><p>So, if you were hoping to read about my caching escapades this week, I am sorry to disappoint. I do, however, have a little piece I started working on a few weeks ago. It’s been waiting for a weekend such as this.</p><br /><p>A few weeks ago, I was dozing off on the couch, when I heard, "You found my cache?" One eye popped open. "I knew it!" I yelled at the TV, "I knew that ammo can was a cache!"</p><br /><p>I don't watch <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/the-forgotten">The Forgotten</a>. In fact, I avoid all things Christian Slater. It just so happened that <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/lost">Lost</a> had ended moments before. I really needed to go to bed, so I didn't change the channel, but I didn’t get off the couch, either. Enter Mr. Slater, and his widow’s peak.</p><br /><p>It starts like all other prime-time-crime-dramas. Two teens, sneaking off into the woods (presumably to do what teens-in-the-woods do) trip over an enormous ammo can marked EXPLOSIVES. Being the good citizens that they are, they put their necking on-hold to report this to the authorities. A bomb-probing robot cautiously opens the ammo can to reveal...gasp! Bones.</p><br /><p>Slater’s character rushes to the scene, and here we find out that these bones could be those of his missing daughter. Go ahead, gasp again. The detectives inventory the can, which includes a rubber band ball, a ladybug key chain, and some puzzles, which are presumed to be clues to the identity of the killer.</p><br /><p>They trace the cache back to a young teen, who informs the detectives that they found a <em>globocache</em>. Soon after, we find out that the ladybug is actually a trackable <em>hopper</em>. The detectives find themselves at a globocaching event. You know, to look for clues. It is here that globocachers prove just how cool they are, by dressing in animal costumes. A giraffe, dog, macaw, skunk, and pink hippopotamus were all in attendance. The detectives track down the hopper’s owner, who pitches a hissy fit when they inform her that the hopper won’t be hopping. <em>Excuse me, Miss, it’s part of a murrrrder investigation</em>.</p><br /><p>Good detective-work leads them to a suspect: a good geocacher with a bad attitude. Oooo. I really wanted to link a video, but ABC makes that tough. If you have a spare moment and need a good laugh, go to <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/the-forgotten">The Forgotten’s</a> website, wait for the video to load, then click “More Videos” (lower left), and then select the one titled “Good Night Moment 3/9.”</p><br /><p>After that, the crew completes a <em>platinum </em>cache, which is sort of a multi and mystery cache combo placed for them by the killer. They get up to all kinds of detective-based mischief and solve the crime, blah blah blah. Anyway, the show sucks and I will never watch another episode, but this particular one was pretty funny. I don’t think they meant it that way though. Well, maybe ABC thought it would be funny, Mr. Slater – not so much.</p><br /><p>In all seriousness, geocachers do find human remains occasionally. It's not usually this funny, though. Or maybe it is. I'll let you know when it happens.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-36228718167491157922010-03-28T19:56:00.000-07:002010-03-28T21:49:18.194-07:00The more things change, they really change.<p>Our nephew, Overcast_shade, came down to Orlando to spend the weekend with us again. Faced with an amazingly beautiful day, I simply couldn't let either of us waste a Saturday on the couch killing zombies. I decided to take him to one my favorite caches: <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?guid=df2a5ae8-f4c6-4e4c-85e9-c10f0161c7eb">GC18HQF</a>. I know I'm breaking my policy about naming caches, but it's ok because the cache is easy to find, not so easy to get to. If you recall my blog post <a href="http://geocachingevelev.blogspot.com/2009/10/evelev-school-of-flip-flop-geocaching.html">The Evelev School of Flipflip Geocaching</a>, I had to cross a creek (by walking barefoot across a log) to get to this cache. It was a blast, and I knew he would enjoy it.</p><br /><p>But here was my first clue:</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LVJUYFhuHDJ86psH0YxbL_SCyln40mHl_I90kFBSM5P0h3bkkuSDy5u283_kHMwlub7wr0_TT12fMrQ95uj1Ja84B2-e8eqJVjGkFhTIXpM2_mI6lV0nMaNZ6RtFqndc9Nk4o4sHM4yu/s1600/1_NC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LVJUYFhuHDJ86psH0YxbL_SCyln40mHl_I90kFBSM5P0h3bkkuSDy5u283_kHMwlub7wr0_TT12fMrQ95uj1Ja84B2-e8eqJVjGkFhTIXpM2_mI6lV0nMaNZ6RtFqndc9Nk4o4sHM4yu/s320/1_NC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453885002009155554" /></a><br /><p>Not so scary, right? Except that last time I was here, it looked like this:</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyAf7S714Rl_i007v_odeva5sTq3dYC9HyRrzDcng5Z0vV-_44y1mYcB0mIlb-UGz55BSEHxo2_Mm6LNaLTNu8CPcn4yGhP6VTvTQ4TLLLwKOyXbMkGhpjknj_yFDjOqayjS6-KhZJWhA/s1600/Makeshift+Bridge.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyAf7S714Rl_i007v_odeva5sTq3dYC9HyRrzDcng5Z0vV-_44y1mYcB0mIlb-UGz55BSEHxo2_Mm6LNaLTNu8CPcn4yGhP6VTvTQ4TLLLwKOyXbMkGhpjknj_yFDjOqayjS6-KhZJWhA/s320/Makeshift+Bridge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453888148259310354" /></a><br /><p>I guess we've had a lot more rain in the last 5 months than I thought. The water was too big to jump across, so we bushwhacked a bit until we found a nice wide log we could walk across. Our next task was finding the log I used to get to the area where the cache is. This is what it looked like in October:</p> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pfBCJYARllNsulyQ_ohPwn3O5bt9pgl95RJv40TwkVw4wa-wg6y-3Bthojt7cQTHv9QK-tcecW0I5GHdbFD2hPeYXv0M2f72JKOwOKkN1J6agdX2N5Plf7if6L0mgOoLlEWEBAcilrdW/s1600/1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pfBCJYARllNsulyQ_ohPwn3O5bt9pgl95RJv40TwkVw4wa-wg6y-3Bthojt7cQTHv9QK-tcecW0I5GHdbFD2hPeYXv0M2f72JKOwOKkN1J6agdX2N5Plf7if6L0mgOoLlEWEBAcilrdW/s320/1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453889557508314450" /></a><br /><p>Now? It's 2 feet under water. So we set about finding <em></em>another<em></em> way across. This is what we settled on:</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzkMqwrRjrVB93upkSgX4Rb9zEAfIF4pEFlyc55pwg-cjg6f4jxBhxKRws433NlHtlyGZVaqzRO4iA0Bs8BtXe5z12JMYWIPnm3EAxbSt6-bf0k3-RRZgFZFiaxFvAUu53JNrjKgE4HcN/s1600/2_NC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzkMqwrRjrVB93upkSgX4Rb9zEAfIF4pEFlyc55pwg-cjg6f4jxBhxKRws433NlHtlyGZVaqzRO4iA0Bs8BtXe5z12JMYWIPnm3EAxbSt6-bf0k3-RRZgFZFiaxFvAUu53JNrjKgE4HcN/s320/2_NC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884998873921282" /></a><br /><p>"But Evelev, that log doesn't go all the way across." You're right, it doesn't, but it went further than any of the other fallen trees. Overcast_shade went first.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TW1iraUyGZQ3-WNI1GFViBiAuJ-jNhe2bGtBuvcHuU-JO0188Sqcib6IYVflGycLOBuVUzEBJN4e8sxp5SZ_NNxwEd8QOybzhDFSXKSE19dpeWmUoPptElv1WVwRTe1BDNWFGan7F8uq/s1600/3_OCS_NC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TW1iraUyGZQ3-WNI1GFViBiAuJ-jNhe2bGtBuvcHuU-JO0188Sqcib6IYVflGycLOBuVUzEBJN4e8sxp5SZ_NNxwEd8QOybzhDFSXKSE19dpeWmUoPptElv1WVwRTe1BDNWFGan7F8uq/s320/3_OCS_NC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884994264009010" /></a><br /><p>The plan was to get as far as possible, and then leap to the shore. It went basically like this:</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXqD4s4Y6IYSEl5CSCAeEHFE4wfPsRwwW4NOK788RRZSMAFxqdUle-8_0uVjAuilr9ud5FnZ-vUXr998YUwa7KrMc3aIRxyd84XFD8nzFW3UjKbXR7Jm8G__wqoQSZJlb4N2DDYQW4cBJ/s1600/4_OCS_NC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXqD4s4Y6IYSEl5CSCAeEHFE4wfPsRwwW4NOK788RRZSMAFxqdUle-8_0uVjAuilr9ud5FnZ-vUXr998YUwa7KrMc3aIRxyd84XFD8nzFW3UjKbXR7Jm8G__wqoQSZJlb4N2DDYQW4cBJ/s320/4_OCS_NC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884990179219234" /></a><br /><p>I had a very similar dismount, but luckily there was no one back there taking pictures with their iPhone.</p><br /><p>Safely across, we set about finding the cache. Actually, he set about it. I knew where it was, so I just hung out and did a little dance to keep the spiders from crawling on me. I didn't see any, but I know they're watching me. Always.</p><br /><p>Anyway, he found the cache pretty quickly, and then we headed back across. He went first so he could take pictures of me this time.</p><br /><p>Here's me, standing in the water, on the log. Yeah, I'm super cool.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqA9cXxv3NjLti7lFp6ctSNlHv7B_Py_VGla9q1Kp2yz-_TdWN1iVNYqliTdYQ2xq9gsJ_F2fyDYWqgz5zmDSh96SpOjYuF7g-gZaudOSrwojBMdZPE67HEuFvnMXAwnKOxemiQ2_b3Rq/s1600/5_Evelev_NC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqA9cXxv3NjLti7lFp6ctSNlHv7B_Py_VGla9q1Kp2yz-_TdWN1iVNYqliTdYQ2xq9gsJ_F2fyDYWqgz5zmDSh96SpOjYuF7g-gZaudOSrwojBMdZPE67HEuFvnMXAwnKOxemiQ2_b3Rq/s320/5_Evelev_NC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884675074282850" /></a><br /><p>And here's me trying really hard not to fall down. Contrary to what you might believe, it's actually a lot easier to walk on the log while it's under the water. I thought the current might unsteady my footing, but that was not the case. Coming out of the water onto the dry log was a bit challenging.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishTelqgdCPHbH7OMFaHaqNEBkTqEZM6RGbiFU92-z3cl9BQBYvCIiup9lafipI7DXU6BnLRQLPLxC51sLW1BNQ1uWc-4PsM2gsqsvdy-8xWHebE9XLBiLqAHLQQuOfQV56cMho6-P_-i8/s1600/6_Evelev.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishTelqgdCPHbH7OMFaHaqNEBkTqEZM6RGbiFU92-z3cl9BQBYvCIiup9lafipI7DXU6BnLRQLPLxC51sLW1BNQ1uWc-4PsM2gsqsvdy-8xWHebE9XLBiLqAHLQQuOfQV56cMho6-P_-i8/s320/6_Evelev.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884671891954850" /></a><br /><p>Funny story, about that stick, which I still have by the way. When I first stepped on the log (before we found the cache), I was curious to see how deep the water was. So I plunged the stick into the water by the shore. My hand got lower, and lower, and I damn near fell in. So, I don't really know how deep the water is...at least as long as that stick.</p><br /><p>Oh, by the way, my leg is went from when I tried to jump off the log and onto the shore. I didn't pee myself, let's just be clear about that.</p><br /><p>One cache down, we set about finding another in the area. Brian and I tried for this other cache a few months back, but didn't find it. Someone has since updated the coordinates, so we decided to try again. The map showed that we were .09 miles away. Cool, let's bushwhack. I'm game. After all, I remembered the cache being just a little off the path. 20 minutes later, we were still .08 miles away, and somehow ended up back at the log we used to get to the first cache. Oy. We headed back to the car.</p><br /><p>And then it hit me. The cache <em>was </em>right off the path...just not the path we were on. I had forgotten that Brian and I had taken a different trail. So we walked (on the outside of the woods) to that trail, bushwhacked for about 10 minutes, and found the cache. If I gave a prize for the cutest log, it would be this one:</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3zNSKIPpZcQyBmt4a4AAfJZgoGQ6A6EbPO4LVDvTk15RpBgSbi3paKi6iSCQmL5CMMhvIixA2H5LiLuSva4szCr4NvqzFvHowzg8X3q7_LY35TGCDb7MdBuqzl9b0h83hOAya1jTXrx6/s1600/8_Best_log.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3zNSKIPpZcQyBmt4a4AAfJZgoGQ6A6EbPO4LVDvTk15RpBgSbi3paKi6iSCQmL5CMMhvIixA2H5LiLuSva4szCr4NvqzFvHowzg8X3q7_LY35TGCDb7MdBuqzl9b0h83hOAya1jTXrx6/s320/8_Best_log.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884658856033042" /></a><br /><p>After that, I had yet another goal. Flashback for just a moment to November, <a href="http://geocachingevelev.blogspot.com/2009/11/honeymoon-is-over.html">The Honeymoon is Over</a>, when I was stung by a wasp while looking for a cache. In my frenzy, I lost a travel bug I was going to release. I've been meaning to go back and look for it, seeing as how no one has come across it. We weren't right next to the cache when this wasp-incidence occured, but I was hoping that someone else in their quest might wander by my travel bug.</p><br /><p>We didn't find it either. Too much new leaf cover. I might go back with a metal detector. What we did find this owl, just hanging out on a branch. I think it might be a barred owl, but I'm not sure. We we were about 30 feet away when I saw it looking at us. It was about 5pm, so I suppose it just waking up. Owls are so elusive, I was surprised to see one so calm, and out in the daylight.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgoljzZIjhTNNpIYhq4BGtc51yrR0OrWISO6xJV88vvvo0diKzdXWK2ViZBTnc5TFUgFUQScMGqR7GPWngIdSIE_LxEzkUeT4wvLL-PewEAdQLmo4CgB-JPCNeu8b6QrdkgfX3MO14rubf/s1600/7_owl.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgoljzZIjhTNNpIYhq4BGtc51yrR0OrWISO6xJV88vvvo0diKzdXWK2ViZBTnc5TFUgFUQScMGqR7GPWngIdSIE_LxEzkUeT4wvLL-PewEAdQLmo4CgB-JPCNeu8b6QrdkgfX3MO14rubf/s320/7_owl.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884664655274162" /></a><br /><p>We did a few more caches after that. We had the unfortunate experience of accidentally wandering into private property, twice. The first guy was clearly annoyed, and rightly so. We apolologized profusely and left quickly. I'm not 100% convinced it was his property, but I wasn't going to argue. At the next location, the guy was really nice, and even let us keep looking for the cache. I apologized, and apologized, but he didn't really care. The land is undeveloped and for sale, so he didn't see that we were doing any harm. We didn't find the cache, but I probably won't go back. Even if he didn't mind us being there, I was embarassed.</p><br /><p>We did some more bushwhacking today. For some reason, today's cache locations were fraught with thorny vines. I wore jeans, but I might as well have been bare-legged. Oh, and the mosquitos are definitely back.</p><br /><p>On our way to the first cache, the Groundspeak app went down...again. I've found it doesn't really <em>do </em>Sundays. To kill a little time, I took Overcast_shade to grab some of the caches I've already done. I was reminded again how fast things change in a few short months.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosi4Aqn-zkJUP92cOmo5na1lzJbbqphf_jrlpF1z1SzoRuyWJdtwinhWukS6D_UO7OqVU5FEQq4ptu-PgmPvOZLDAR08kE3n-CFrpxUBmTFrC02NVxw0WeGAAVIV_CgqUOG3YtxfMKohj/s1600/9_Bird_TAN.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosi4Aqn-zkJUP92cOmo5na1lzJbbqphf_jrlpF1z1SzoRuyWJdtwinhWukS6D_UO7OqVU5FEQq4ptu-PgmPvOZLDAR08kE3n-CFrpxUBmTFrC02NVxw0WeGAAVIV_CgqUOG3YtxfMKohj/s320/9_Bird_TAN.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453884653729671058" /></a><br /><p>This cache <em>used </em>to be a bird. Now it's a charred marshmallow with an attitude. Looks like somebody overcooked their peep. Happy (almost) Easter.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-90467847993566209682010-03-21T17:51:00.000-07:002010-03-21T19:55:01.817-07:00Ick. Eek. Nasties.<p>It's been a couple of weeks since I got out to do any real geocaching. This weekend was a nice reprieve. It started on Friday evening. I was setting down on the couch, wallowing in the crumminess of my week, when my iPhone buzzed with an email. Cache posted, 2/10 of a mile away. I leapt (yes, leapt) from the couch and ran out of the room...quickly realizing that I probably shouldn't leave my little snack where the dog could grab it. I scrambled back into the living room, gathered up my cheese and crackers, plunked them on the kitchen counter, and ran out of the room, again. I slipped-on a pair of sneakers. No time for socks. On my way out the door, I asked Brian if he wanted to come, he declined, and I was off.</p><br /><p>I arrived at the location to find this crappy-looking bog. The terrain rating is a 3, so I put on my backpack and prepared to bushwhack. But then, in a stroke of genius, I looked a bit further and found a neat, manicured path to GZ.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KRBcTtDy0DaD2RIlPByFmtYAkamFZJFlkJgRx7VrpX1ccqsxrlVK7PKjvik4WRaqn8IJ_vgz1FiSabu75lGGGA85ObKCIRi937OxrbMLpFeTmER60YUFqYbLkHkc9B0GUbprAxBe5P2N/s1600-h/1_MB.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KRBcTtDy0DaD2RIlPByFmtYAkamFZJFlkJgRx7VrpX1ccqsxrlVK7PKjvik4WRaqn8IJ_vgz1FiSabu75lGGGA85ObKCIRi937OxrbMLpFeTmER60YUFqYbLkHkc9B0GUbprAxBe5P2N/s320/1_MB.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255711077129874" /></a><br /><p>At GZ, I got an up-close look at the bog. I felt like Frodo at the Dead Marshes (formerly the battlefield of Dagorlad). If you don't know what that means, pat yourself on the back for being less of a nerd than me. Anyway, with a 3-star terrain rating, I thought I was going to get even closer to the bog. Thankfully, I didn't.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPFL_spGbQ3Ni57qBrqeznkc_ODDFECmYNIPwsPfghvae5fAAD41q0D3xj2rt10EzMbdouo4mCVcPLiPpB1wBuok6cH-5O-xAFwXjX76N_E1V4hhSYeqtaN10htq5fq-eqWTZ5z2-Foi6/s1600-h/2_MB.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPFL_spGbQ3Ni57qBrqeznkc_ODDFECmYNIPwsPfghvae5fAAD41q0D3xj2rt10EzMbdouo4mCVcPLiPpB1wBuok6cH-5O-xAFwXjX76N_E1V4hhSYeqtaN10htq5fq-eqWTZ5z2-Foi6/s320/2_MB.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255616422124594" /></a><br /><p>There's a funny thing about FTFs. I think I get cache-blindness because I'm so spazzed that someone else is going to run up behind me and snag the cache. Neurotic? Yes. Immature? Of course. Justified? Absolutely. Don't judge me.</p><br /><p>The happy ending is that I did finally find it first. It just appeared, dangling right in front of my eyeballs.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_me8bjbqUHuPnqj_Qcwvsb0UoLNDHTDu0QBU3oodf9nbJnrxZ2lPXgjCTW_fTLQjsY8rDJlRfHPSUVKI6bMwUsAMSHF1rRAtk6p-r7GYrExEe99SozopOe5KeJTnzrOkgGHU22xJsLMa/s1600-h/3_MB.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_me8bjbqUHuPnqj_Qcwvsb0UoLNDHTDu0QBU3oodf9nbJnrxZ2lPXgjCTW_fTLQjsY8rDJlRfHPSUVKI6bMwUsAMSHF1rRAtk6p-r7GYrExEe99SozopOe5KeJTnzrOkgGHU22xJsLMa/s320/3_MB.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255608660515298" /></a><br /><p>On my way out, I ran into mljungquist, so I hung around while she found it, and then we caught up for a few minutes.</p><br /><p>When I got home, our nephew (Overcast_shade) and two fellow Marines had arrived. Two of the three stayed with us for the weekend. Had I not intervened, they would have spent the entire time playing xbox. I <em>think </em>I did them a favor.</p> <br /><p>I was supposed to spend yesterday studying, but the weather was just too nice to pass up. Plus, it rained all day today, so I had plenty of time to hit the books.</p><br /><p>The first cache we visited is about a mile from my house. It's one I've wanted to do since I started geocaching, but was apparehensive because of the previous logs and the fact that it hadn't been found in over a year. I've had it on my watch list, and a few weeks ago, someone logged it.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8LQWchjq-85X43cXWuQaSv9DiwR6qaT9gMfa91koW7E82uEhSKIAQ9iSR1kCU3eC1G2SwgUEe9S7RZCwByzFJsqQ7rPhpNploy8mef4VEDifOpAkP9grqtre1EyvZuM3eMY5YQXYh6J2/s1600-h/4_KJC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8LQWchjq-85X43cXWuQaSv9DiwR6qaT9gMfa91koW7E82uEhSKIAQ9iSR1kCU3eC1G2SwgUEe9S7RZCwByzFJsqQ7rPhpNploy8mef4VEDifOpAkP9grqtre1EyvZuM3eMY5YQXYh6J2/s320/4_KJC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255601569214898" /></a><br /><p>The water near the car was stagnant and icky. Further down, it was clear but deeper with a bit of a current. We started out on the east side, but soon had to cross over to the west side on this downed-tree. The path ahead was dense with trees and had a high probability of spiders. Plus this log was like 2 feet wide and very easy to cross.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzioerWFFGgtjkiBo2PfvnDF5fuuSgIZSfdar_a4UVujOaR0bTVxB3LLKKvdr9e9eG-ucPZXj1MQCj2_d7s3S__XcOkVbsT9epxbZ97X5URm3O9e4WH_nba6OSZJ2QzCFzTteE-NqAtLCR/s1600-h/5_KJC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzioerWFFGgtjkiBo2PfvnDF5fuuSgIZSfdar_a4UVujOaR0bTVxB3LLKKvdr9e9eG-ucPZXj1MQCj2_d7s3S__XcOkVbsT9epxbZ97X5URm3O9e4WH_nba6OSZJ2QzCFzTteE-NqAtLCR/s320/5_KJC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255595562060482" /></a><br /><p>Here, overcast_shade and his buddy cross the stream in front of me. That's the benefit of caching with Marines, they try everything first.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHvwKnE8wVa13ysRyLlzkvlWezBGqdeFaAbK7kVsYhCY84e_Sj-evjhEpD9ebkARaeh0RgdIpWkkMco9_B9gMEI07WghL3g-pNj9RkH2v2lhaq2HPjxYeYCUq4p1zE5qsvHaIxOBfslq2/s1600-h/6_KJC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHvwKnE8wVa13ysRyLlzkvlWezBGqdeFaAbK7kVsYhCY84e_Sj-evjhEpD9ebkARaeh0RgdIpWkkMco9_B9gMEI07WghL3g-pNj9RkH2v2lhaq2HPjxYeYCUq4p1zE5qsvHaIxOBfslq2/s320/6_KJC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255590863303778" /></a><br /><p>On the west side of the creek, there was a well-beaten path leading almost to GZ. The description had noted that there were two ways to approach - wet feet or bushwhacking. We had unknowingly chosen wet feet. Not to worry, the creek looked shallow, so the three of us took off our shoes, rolled up our jeans, and waded across. It was almost as shallow as it looked, except that the sand was soft, so we sunk a few inches lower than we'd thought. But no harm done, really.</p> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXRWYmK0kppVBwNAtfG7t5F0X6jZhN9R5mDVP6wGzsR7_VS3C8dxaBUUPkoqv7e-kjEE0aqfSECN5mtzbrI_LxQYDdu1AGoyq2vroPy8GVG9YDGUFb61PGTL0PnSzN8BboV1l78drnZD6/s1600-h/7_KJC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXRWYmK0kppVBwNAtfG7t5F0X6jZhN9R5mDVP6wGzsR7_VS3C8dxaBUUPkoqv7e-kjEE0aqfSECN5mtzbrI_LxQYDdu1AGoyq2vroPy8GVG9YDGUFb61PGTL0PnSzN8BboV1l78drnZD6/s320/7_KJC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255212476721426" /></a><br /><p>I spotted the cache almost immediately on the other side. It's some kind of box with a cool locking mechanism and a bunch of ferns glued to it. The description says it from a helicopter (minus the ferns). That's all cool, except that helicopters aren't made to be in water, and neither is this cache. It's absolutely disgusting inside. We couldn't even find the log, I think it broke down into it's original elements. Nasties.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyo1wuNEHvKFIXBE5MFZio8CmSyP4wg5EAmhRmPzPx5JyzFlKeqDQ0ILo7wjhmmQI7mYYYSKtLjLWHo7jjDtX_9W7-13VqsIoOXinReZS5s-19bW7f26j5p1eWVCeS4S_rcUOHC3cIHBA/s1600-h/8_KJC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyo1wuNEHvKFIXBE5MFZio8CmSyP4wg5EAmhRmPzPx5JyzFlKeqDQ0ILo7wjhmmQI7mYYYSKtLjLWHo7jjDtX_9W7-13VqsIoOXinReZS5s-19bW7f26j5p1eWVCeS4S_rcUOHC3cIHBA/s320/8_KJC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255205246526274" /></a><br /><p>This is the cache in it's "natural" habitat. Blends quite well, but I suppose some wanderer could come across it eventually. We saw ATV tracks. The nearby mobile home park is called Sherwood Forest, so the greatest muggle of all, the Sheriff of Nottingham, might obscond with it one day. Avert your eyes, I just got a little dweebier.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguKAsT4-DGdNP6OzA1ZYoEOfQ28wlBtjNc5pFJtfU1XX4h72IVAmQtRfbXIlYfy2R2fLa12qbu1zbyru80YYCHDK91T_mdhfhyBypm_itS7AOTlBMxGVC-le8zTpwVp8s7iqa01WTlLl1/s1600-h/9_KJC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguKAsT4-DGdNP6OzA1ZYoEOfQ28wlBtjNc5pFJtfU1XX4h72IVAmQtRfbXIlYfy2R2fLa12qbu1zbyru80YYCHDK91T_mdhfhyBypm_itS7AOTlBMxGVC-le8zTpwVp8s7iqa01WTlLl1/s320/9_KJC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255192505163634" /></a><br /><p>Then we moved on to a cache Brian and I tried almost a year ago, but didn't find. Turns out, the coordinates were off by a good 20 feet. Also, the clues were misleading or just irrelevent. I have to wonder if this cache isn't where it's supposed to be. Anyway, overcast_shade finally found it. There was a yay and an eek at the same time - the camo was covered in enormous red ants. You can just make them out in this photo, which should show you that these are no ordinary ants. I was ready to give up then, but the Marines brushed the ants aside and extracted the bison tube.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQeMOW4JG9YMKJGE52vx6AsYxeqdMX_ZaSG4vLfGLRJzDnmPjIy6_Wuu-wdKLCUgG2XXKYyczvQ5feIC8-8BekqbFqvgR0SRylzfWvaX1rzG1o3RNQuDof3spgd5mVYeeb-E1dHz3rPeNV/s1600-h/10_TTC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQeMOW4JG9YMKJGE52vx6AsYxeqdMX_ZaSG4vLfGLRJzDnmPjIy6_Wuu-wdKLCUgG2XXKYyczvQ5feIC8-8BekqbFqvgR0SRylzfWvaX1rzG1o3RNQuDof3spgd5mVYeeb-E1dHz3rPeNV/s320/10_TTC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255190811151554" /></a><br /><p>Not far away was another cache. The coordinates put us in the middle of the street, but obviously it wasn't there. The clue made reference to hanging, so we scoured the trees nearby. No cache. I was getting ready to call it a DNF, when I made one more loop around the trees and spotted the cache hanging from a piece of fishing line attached to a cinder block fence.</p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3cOJ9hJfSgmfX0l6hpVA_uNstY70Z1Vvtp6i_mBTR3lsuCHIQoyxGKNPQC_8E539cjZM7P_WAslIb3QMPWXARvCofnIokPEYv0NBrGcaG_wUzjT3Nl8X-NG47ZYKqGDCnRTZaWACvAby/s1600-h/11_BU.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3cOJ9hJfSgmfX0l6hpVA_uNstY70Z1Vvtp6i_mBTR3lsuCHIQoyxGKNPQC_8E539cjZM7P_WAslIb3QMPWXARvCofnIokPEYv0NBrGcaG_wUzjT3Nl8X-NG47ZYKqGDCnRTZaWACvAby/s320/11_BU.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451255184675673842" /></a><br /><p>We found two more caches before we had to had home to a very hungry Brian. It was my first DNF-less day in a long, long time. Fingers crossed we get nice weather next weekend. I'd like to do some of the kayak-only caches in the area before it gets too hot and buggy here.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2809333155855514528.post-78334555533777039302010-03-14T18:52:00.000-07:002010-03-14T21:52:19.505-07:00The kindness of cachers<p>As some of you know, Brian and I have been all-consumed with moving into our new house the past few weeks. Sadly, it hasn’t left a lot of time for geocaching. This is especially disappointing because right now we have some of the best geocaching weather of the year. The spiders have already begun to make a resurgence, which means I’ll have to dust off the old spider-whacking stick.</p><br /><p>Anyway, we’re almost moved-in. Up until yesterday, the front room remained unfinished. I decided to make it a library, and spent the last few weeks shopping for the right bookcases. The night I was supposed to bring them home, my friend with a truck had a bad experience with bleu cheese and had to bail. Ick.</p><br /><p>In my desperation, I turned to Facebook. Who replied? Local geocaching legend, War1man, of War1man and Mimi. Both War1man and Mimi met me at the furniture store, hauled the bookcases back to my house (in the infamous white geo-van), and helped me bring them inside.</p><br /><p>Less than a year ago, I was pacing (stomping, a little) around the Casselberry dam, cursing the day they ever decided to hide a cache there. If you told me then, that one day War1man and Mimi would be helping me move bookcases…I don’t know what I would have done, but I wouldn’t have believed you. It was surreal, to say the least.</p><br /><p>It really speaks to the community of geocaching. It shows me, once again, that this is no ordinary hobby. I’ve never met an unfriendly geocacher (though I hear they’re out there), but I was not expecting cachers to come to my rescue that night.</p> <br /><p>Funny thing is, the next day I told some people at work about this. I was expecting them to reply, “Wow, that’s super cool.” Actually, they were like, “are you out of your mind??” I guess I never considered that.</p><br /><p>Again, thank you, War1man and Mimi. Now, if I could just figure out what makes you tick, I might find a few more of your caches.</p><br /><p>For those of you who’ve never had the pleasure of finding a War1man and Mimi cache (or even if you have), they have a blog called <a href="http://geocachingwithwar1manandmimi.blogspot.com/">Geocaching with War1man and Mimi</a>.</p>Evelynnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862092269064305980noreply@blogger.com0