| Finding
The G(eo) Spot
By
Sonja Katz
There I was, ducking down in some bushes in a national park up the California coast, whispering to my companion -- so far, unnoticed by the other people on the trail.
"Oooooh! Look at the size of this thing! Why do you think it's so big? I can hardly get it back in!"
"Hey, I'm just grateful that it's still here. You act like you've never seen one of these! You've gotta admit, though, it's kinda cute," he breathed. "Stop squealing, will you? Somebody's going to spot us if we're not
quiet."
"Oh, let 'em. We'll be finished by the time anyone gets through bushwhacking this trail to get to us, anyway. By the way, do you know what Poison Oak looks like?"
"Uh-ohhhh."
You know, my ex-husband used to point the remote control at me every time I would ask him to help me make a decision. It would always get me steamed, but I have to admit one thing: He knew how to push the right buttons to get out of something.
I should probably thank him for that, as my path has led me to many interesting places and people since those days, even if I've stumbled upon some of the best destinations by accident.
But knowing exactly how to get where you're going also has merit. Some pretty good stuff can be found if you just take the time to explore the right places. Treasure,
even.
The guy I've been seeing for awhile has become obsessed with a new game called "geocaching," whereby the combination of a hand-held Global Positioning System (GPS) unit and geographical coordinates leads people to carefully-placed caches (anything from a mint tin to Tupperware or ammo boxes) of fun trinkets and a log book.
Usually, you hike to the cache, which, if the creator was thoughtful, is hidden at a beautiful spot somewhere. When you finally get to the place and find the container using a combination of coordinates, clues, some poking around and some luck, you take something from the cache and leave something in return. Then, you log your find in the book, carefully re-hide the cache and then log it online at the Web site, http://www.geocaching.com.
Some contain "travel bugs" that can be tracked via a number stamped on an attached metal tag that gets logged online by the owner, and then its subsequent finders as they take them from cache to cache, all over the world. http://www.geocaching.com/track/thumbs.asp
Usually, travel bugs are given a personality, and sometimes, even a story line. Among others, we've found a blue stuffed bear that wanted to visit lighthouses, an evil "zero-legged man" who should never be placed in the same cache as a particular "deputy" travel bug, a "plane Jane" bug that was a little plastic squeak toy airplane with the goal to visit caches near major airports with handsome pilots. (Who could blame her?)
I've learned to recognize the glint in this guy's eye when he's ready to find a new cache. He talks about the new ones that show up online. Every little jaunt to see a sunset now involves at least one or two cache finds along the way. We used to just go to the beach. Now, there's a cache on a bridge near the beach, that we check out first.
I'm not complaining, however. These places usually have beautiful views or other redeeming qualities, such as terrific terrain for a hike. They take you to places you may ordinarily never see – not even in sight-seeing or hiking books. It's a wonderful activity for couples to enjoy together.
Suddenly, he even enjoys shopping, because we might find stuff suitable to leave in caches.
On a recent trip, he spotted some polished stone jewelry at a little shop we visited in the mountains. "Do you think kids would like these if they found them in a cache?" he asked as he dug around in a bowl filled with colorful rings. I told him I thought that'd be a fine idea. In fact, I encouraged him to get one for his traveling companion, too.
I didn't say he was a stupid man; he's just a little obsessed with this hobby.
We're thinking now about hiding some of our own caches, but it's not without a lot of discussion as to exactly where they should go.
And, you know how it is. Someone says, "A little to the left," and they mean just that. Not one inch one way or the other will do – it has to be the exact spot, or nobody hits pay dirt.
"How about right … here!" he laughed as he pointed the GPS at a potential hiding place on my body. At least he wasn't trying to change the channel.
And, like I said, there's something really special about a guy who knows where he's going.
©
2003 Cirious Business - Do not copy or reproduce without
permission.
Sonja's
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Man's Meat Hindsight Too
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