Geocache Goose Chase
We love a good geocache. They often add a bit of extra motivation for getting out for a walk and have taken us to some spots so remote, quill and ink were used to write the most recent names on the list contained within.
This particular geocache is called “Uncle John Pavitt danced with stile” and it’s without doubt the most infuriating geocache I’ve never found.
As we set out on the backroads to Gweek, the wispy clouds moved lazily across the big blue as we parked opposite the style. Spirits were high and the app was telling me we were only 8m from the cache. My kids and I were on a mini geocache tour and I was confident of a quick find.
We had all afternoon to while away, which was just as well given what was about to unfold.
If you’ve never found a geoache before, they’re small water tight boxes or tubes that contain a list of names and dates. When you find a cache, you add your details to the list and return the cache. It’s a simple idea and more than a little addictive.
(Often what you find has mirky black water leaking from it and the contents are no more than papier-mâché. C’est la vie. The fun is in the hunt.)
We approached the style and the app told me we were 2m away as I stood staring straight at it.
Okay, let’s start with the style itself and work out, I said, as I started lifting stones and logs that lay under the style.
No luck.
Next we tried the walls either side.
Then we crossed into the farmers’ field and searched there.
In desperation, I turned to the large tree next to the style and when that returned no cache, I looked for half a second at the electrical site on the other side of the road. This was getting desperate.
It was then I remembered to check the hint, usually a sure fire way of helping you find the cache.
It read “A style + a sign + suspension = a happy cacher”.
This was all I needed for a renewed, but misplaced, confidence that we’d find the cache. “Aha” I said aloud, as I stood next to the footpath sign a metre or so from the style.
Well the three of us searched every inch of that sign, before I had a second, third and forth look around, on top of, at the side of and underneath that bloody style, before we gave up.
As I got back in the car I couldn’t help but read the many, many comments from people who’d successfully found the cache. Each one having claimed to have found it more easily and more quickly than the last.
But then I guess, that’s the joy (or not) of geocaching.
