Geocaching

My mom sent me an e-mail not too long ago asking if I had ever tried geocaching because it sounded like something that was really up my alley (it does! it is!). I knew what it was and I had looked into it, but I hadn’t ever really gone. I don’t know why. So I dug a little bit and decided: this is it, Saturday afternoon I am going to go geocaching. It’s exercise combined with a SUPER SECRET treasure hunt.

I did a LOT of research into it. And I don’t know if you’ve ever tried geocaching, but their site is a treasure hunt in and of itself. 

I eventually figured out how to look at the difficulty levels and the proximity to my house (though the symbols totally eluded me; I was not even making that angel thing up. Do you DIE on that search???!). I chose my course carefully. I picked one that was about a mile and a half away and planned to jog to the park and back for a little exercise. I slept Friday night dreaming the dreams of kings.

I awoke and drank my coffee for the day.

I got dressed. I PREPARED. I prepared for RICHES and ADVENTURES!

So I started my jog. The jog was completely uneventful. It was hot? but not a bad run at all -- and I hate running. I reached my destination easily. Now I had to find the “cache”. Noooo problem. I prepared my stealthy face so no one would be “on” to me because if there was one thing I learned from the geocaching community, it’s that you better keep those damn caches a SECRET.

I couldn’t find it! I had NO IDEA where this thing was. You see, I didn’t know what I was looking for. I had pinpointed roughly where the object should’ve been and had the riddle (I thought) sussed out but there was NOTHING. I kept looking out of sheer stubbornness.

I started to give up being stealthy and just openly tore the park apart looking for a “cache”. Was it gold? was it duct taped? was it a pot, a pan, a bit of tupperware? I didn’t KNOW.

I completely abandoned any secrecy about the treasure hunt while nice, fine people who wanted to enjoy their day at the park with their kids openly stared, slack-jawed, at this freak in running shorts tearing open their park. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I tried pathetically to keep up the charade.

But I knew it was over. Geocaching had won. It had defeated me. I had no idea where that mysterious object was hidden. And as I realized that if I didn’t leave, someone would start to assume I was a psycho serial killing child molester, I gave one last forlorn look over the park. 

Defeated, I jogged back to my house with a heavy heart, desperately telling myself that I could come back. That it wasn’t over yet. That at least I got some exercise.

But I knew. I knew deep down:

It was over. 

I tried to keep my interest going. I looked up other, presumedly easier caches, but I think the effort was feigned at best.


UPDATE: Hi, geocachers. Welcome!


I'm really sorry I have ruined the game by being completely conspicuous in my search. Please don't be mad. :(