I don't recall exactly when it happened, or why, for that matter, but it did. I had ventured into the underworld, the throbbing heartbeat of geocaching opinions... the Groundspeak Forums! Where Aliens and psycho cachers and so many others cast out their threads of logic or humor, sarcastic wit or flaming diatribes on various aspects of geocaching. Wow, what entertaining hours in front of the monitor this provided! After my initial investigation of the various topics I tended to remain on the light side, in Off Topic, the land of Cheerio's and Smiles, where Questions and Answers have their own exclusive threads and happy Cheese Counters greet each day.

Occasionally tendrils from the dark side would reach out to me, trying to pull me in, to engage me in debate. One such time was when a log from one of our caches suggested that I should have placed an ammo can instead of a micro. This led me to look into "micros" on the forums. There were enough threads and combined threads on this topic to weave a blanket. It was a very hotly debated topic and occasionally tempers flared on both sides. After reading for a few hours, I went back to Off Topic to post a few rhymes, count one less cheese, and then turned in for the night.

It wasn't long after falling asleep that Wedge woke me up, whining like she wanted to play with something but couldn't get to it. I'm tempted to go back to sleep but my tummy is rumbling (darn diet) and I figured I would raid the fridge. Going to the kitchen, Wedge is wagging her tail while looking at the wall. Silly dog. Anyway, I have a look in the fridge hoping for some leftover tidbit to tide me over till morning.

I hear a low wavery "catsnfishhh" and turn to see a spectral figure appearing out of the wall! It seemed to be a man, clothed in khaki, wearing a backpack and an old ball cap. As the figure became more solid I noticed that he was spraying something from a can all over himself, and that he was followed by dozens of ammo cans strung together on a chain. Ohkay... the 'Christmas Carol' bit. I'll play along. Not recognizing the Marley in front of me I ask "Who are you?" As he replaced the spray can into his pack he replied "I am the Missing Cacher. By the way, you have termites. I can't stand termites, ughh, worse than ticks!"

O..K.. After he took a moment to bend down and play with Wedge and even slipped her a dog biscuit I said "Can we move this along? I'd like to get back to bed."

With a long sigh he began his lecture, "This power trail that I'm lugging behind me is made of all the regular caches I did not place in my life. Too many nanos, key holders, yada yada, you get the picture. You, Catsnfish, have a much longer train of cans since you have never ever placed an ammo can!"

"So?" I reply.

"So Repent! What do you think this dream is about? You'll have the standard three spectral visits to show you the error of your ways."

"Gotcha, O K, uh..." I didn't know what to say.

"Don't just stand there slack-jawed, move, so I can go out the window. I won't go through that wall again, can't stand termites! You will be visited by three..." and his voice trailed off as the ammo cans clunked after him.

I awoke in my bed and thought 'How strange... the exterminator was here just last year. Hmm... maybe the yogurt I had last night was expired. Darn diet!' and went back to sleep.

Wedge woke me by nudging her cold nose against my hand. "Ok ok I'll let you out. Quit drinking so much before bedtime." She bounded into the other room and when I turned the corner into my living room, I stepped into a bright boulder-strewn mountain meadow with butterflies flitting and birds chirping and a cool pleasant breeze swaying the wildflowers like a chorus line. 

Not twenty yards from me was a slender man, again dressed in khaki, sporting a large white handlebar mustache and pith helmet tipped at a jaunty angle. He was leaning over a five gallon bucket that was tucked in between a couple of large rocks. In one hand was a small teddy bear and in the other a nalgene bottle. Dropping the bottle into the bucket he replaced the lid, and made sure that it was well sealed.

He turned to look at me and I addressed him "Are you the Ghost of Caches Past?"

"Why, yes I am!" as he bounded over and began shaking my hand. "Catsnfish! It's so jolly good to meet another cacher, there's not many of us you know. Maybe one should create a cache to meet other cachers at? Eh what, yes, yes, that would do! Oh dear! Wedge, I didn't see you. What?" and he flipped a biscuit towards my dog.

It seems we have a character here. Reluctant to turn the mood by getting down to business, I hesitantly ask "Aren't you supposed to show me how things were better in the old days of caching before nanos and bisons?"

Taking on a very Charlton Heston-type demeanor he stated "Look around, Son, you've found this cache, but the next one is in that valley over there, a good eight-hour hike away. On that hike you might see wondrous sights, a bugling elk, beaver in their ponds, boulders from the dawn of time, even a herd of them bison you asked about. This is adventure for those stout enough to seek it! And treasure, the treasure is right here" he said, pointing to the chest of the teddy bear.

Now I was confused! Should all caches be long hikes in glorious settings and have teddy bears to trade? I asked that and he replied "Listen, Son, the adventure is what you make it to be, whether in a wilderness or a back alley. The treasure is in your heart and what you take from the experience."

Beginning to fade as his message was said, his demeanor changed as the British accent reemerged and he began mumbling as he strode off "Who'd want to seek a bison? Bison move around. What? Hmm a moving cache! No, wouldn't last, I dare say, what?" I could hear the faint echo of "Tally Ho the Cache!" as I once again found myself in bed.

"Yes Wedge, who is here this time? Let me guess, another ghost?" Who'da thought that?

Tail wagging; she leads me down the hallway. The hallway seems endless and is changing as I walk along. By the time I reach the end it has become a bridge and there is a small roundish person dressed in black standing at the end of it. "Are you the Ghost of Caches Present?"

"Do I look like a ghost? No. I'm the Troll of Caches Present!"

I should have known better... ghosts wear khaki.

"Take my spare Magellan so we can give you the guidance you need." "I can't! I'm a Garmin man!" I exclaim. "You'll be forgiven that, maybe, now take it!" He then rocked a little on his feet and popped off like he had been stuck to the surface. As I am pulled along behind him I catch a glimpse of Wedge snapping up a milkbone.

All was black until little teeny lights began to glow and fade and glow again all around us. In that glow I came to the realization that I was upside down with quite a start.

" Just keep your feet flat, you'll be ok" he said, noticing my discomfort. Relaxing a bit I asked about the lights. "Those are blinkies! And my Magellan makes them light up; can your Garmin do that?" "No" I said weakly and he gave out a great big guffaw and said "I wish it could, I'd hunt nano's at night all the time. Nope, this is a dream, Catsnfish, and they are glowing to make a point."

Ok, feeling better that my Garmin wasn't technologically inferior I ask "What's the point?" "Why, that there's a bunch of em! What else?" It's kinda peaceful and pretty watching the blinkies while hanging upside down under a bridge. Looking around I spot a lonely green glow off to the north and ask if that's the nuclear power plant over that way. 

"Hmm" he growls as he pulls a logbook from under his hat and flips through some pages "Let's see, .. Here it is.... the color code for this dream is... nano's are red, reactors are blue, ammo can's green and so are you!" Poof! With that last poof he pointed his finger at me and we promptly disappeared.

Back at home I hadn't turned green at all. That guy was a real kidder. Between worrying about developing a chartreuse hue and the anticipation of the last and most worrisome of the spectral visitors, there was no way I was going to sleep. Making a pot of coffee and grabbing another yogurt I settle down to relax, wishing I had a big gooey fudge brownie instead...

In a short while Wedge, who was at my feet, hopped up and started wagging her tail. Slowly a few people came into view, materializing along with some chairs and bistro tables. There was someone in a uniform writing on a tablet, I think he was taking orders, cause I heard something about "a tri tip of bison and a side of bananas" or maybe it was "I'm tired of bison's and signing damn nanos." Somewhere else I catch "natural carrot sticks" or was it "unnatural pile of sticks"? Hard to tell when there are so many conversations going on at once.

I heard the words 'ammo can' and perked up. That's what I'm here for! Down at the far table sat a woman in a red flannel shirt, a fishing vest and a boonie hat, looking at a Palm Pilot in her hand. Could this be the Ghost of Caching's Future? She must have carried some influence with the assembled crowd because when she cleared her throat and tapped the Palm everyone got quiet.

"Welcome Catsnfish! I am the Moderator of the Caching Future topics. Everyone here has an opinion on what caching should be. On what to hide and where it should go. How big it must be and what's a no no. Can't hide in the woods, it must have trade goods! Don't place it too high or make us all lie. Must sign in the log, can't sign if a dog! No bargain buys for FTF prize!"

The waiter stepped up and she turned to that side "He'll have the house special, cut extra wide."

"Stop it!  Stop it! I say! Knock off the verse before it gets worse. Sheesh, a breakfast with Moose and Seuss on the Loose? Stop it I say!"

 Incredulous faces looked toward me, and then shifted their gaze to the Moderator. Slowly, the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile.

"Whew! That's better. Thank you, Catsnfish, those Off Topic forum games are addictive! Even for us moderators."

As the varied conversations began to renew around us I was motioned to a seat on her right. "As I was saying, everyone has an opinion of what caching should be. Part of the appeal it has for many cachers is the variety. A steady diet of ammo cans, or nanos for that matter, can be as boring as well, like eating yogurt for every meal. There is room for all types and cachers can go where their preferences take them. How to play is not written in stone. Partly for this reason it is open to interpretation and opinions. Sometimes the expression of these opinions becomes heated, agitated, and even nasty at times. That's where my job comes in. Keep things civil and the forums can be a great source of new ideas that add to the experience of caching. So remember, everyone has an opinion, the right to feel strongly about it and to express it in a civil manner for others to agree or disagree with. Got it?"

"Yeah, I think so."  A big grin lights up my face "I'm right... they're wrong!  But they're entitled to be wrong and all of our post counts go up!"

With a shrug of her shoulders the moderator mumbled something about 'job security'.

Right after my last statement a turtle brownie drizzled in goo arrived. As I reach for my fork everything begins to fade away. Figures. Darn diet! Nooooo!!

At last the visits are over and I can get some sleep! Hmm, Wedge is gnawing on a big rawhide bone that I've never seen before. "Wedge, did you have anything to do with this?" She just cocked her head in a quizzical look and went back to her rawhide, wagging her tail.   

Sometime after this dream we released our first ammo can into the wild. For a while it would be there for cachers to find, eagerly awaiting swag trades and TFTC's. As time went by hunters were fewer and further between, until finally the ammo can went feral and was never seen again.

It was sad, the day we went into the woods and realized it was never coming back, but we took both comfort and pride in the fact that we had decreased the surplus ammo can population and that we had prepared our can to make its own way in the world.

By catsnfish

A couple of empty-nesters who caught the caching bug not realizing it was incurable. So if we’re found in the woods waltzing with Garmins, lifting lampskirts while tying our shoe or looking for “gum” underneath benches, be sure to stay away... it’s contagious and the only temporary relief can be found in finding bison’s, ammo’s, nano’s, or passing coins and spreading travel bugs!

Publisher's Note: Catsnfish write the periodic column The Adventures of Catsnfish. Subscribe (free) to The Online Geocacher to get an email alert when a new article is published.