*Editors note: This is the story that was the source of "A Cachers Carol" that appears elsewhere in the magazine. It has remained unpublished until now. The caches described have been archived and the story is no longer a spoiler.... for those caches!

 

  We had been Geocaching a month or so when a local mystery cache had caught our eye, but it was rated at a 4.5 D/4.5 T so we figured to get some more experience before going for it. Oh! Let's be honest, the logs had scared us off. A previous log spoke of the hardships and medical trauma incurred during the search for this cache which included an infected foot from stepping on something sharp while crossing a scummy pond, a brown recluse spider bite and a hand that was flayed wide open from grabbing a branch during a fall. The log included very graphic photo's of each of these injuries. Very graphic and frightening. Wow! what a bad day caching. After reading the log Vic sent a get well email to the injured cacher.

   Prior logs also spoke of great difficulty solving the puzzle and retrieving the various legs of the multicache. Personally I never could make any sense of the puzzle and soon gave up trying. Vic is better at solving them than I am but she gave up as well. We put this cache on the back burner and in our watch list.

     There is a perversity in human nature that makes us want to show the extremes of our chosen activities. Maybe it is trying to appear more than we are, or the vicarious bravery we have by taking part in those "possibly dangerous" activities. Whenever we spoke about our new hobby to family and friends and there was a computer handy we would show them the logs and photo's for this cache. Yes, we were taking on a high adventure, potentially disastrous, exciting new hobby.

    A week or two later and we had come across a log on another cache that was near a town west of us. It was written by the owner of the local cache we were watching. It was a very long log and we had discovered the fact that longer logs on a cache generally meant a more fulfilling cache experience. Lamp post caches usually get a TFTC but caches that provide adventure got whole paragraphs. This cache had a lot of paragraph logs on it just like the cache in our watchlist.

    His log spoke of a difficult approach to the cache, dragging a fire extinguisher with him. It detailed a water crossing and using the fire extinguisher to remove the leeches from his skin and other tribulations. Right after finding the cache and logging it, he met up with his wife and dog both of whom, not having to obtain the coordinates to the next leg, took an easier path. At this time they were approached by an angry individual of a stereotypical backwoods type, a redneck or as the log calls him "the bubba." bubba had his scattergun with him and was loudly cursing the cachers and ranting about "no one's gonna have no meth labs in my neighborhood!" The cachers tried to explain what they were doing but bubba wouldn't listen saying he was gonna hold em till the law got here. The cacher offered the use of his cell phone to call for them. In the time before the deputies arrived the cachers were getting pretty bold in what they said to bubba considering he kept the shotgun trained on them the whole time. Even the dog showed his disdain by giving a hind leg salute right on bubba's boot.

     With the arrival of the law enforcement officers, the situation was defused with the cachers explaining caching to one officer who had previously heard about it, while the other disarmed and arrested bubba for unlawful incarceration. The log ends with the explanation that they would have to return to testify in bubba's trial.

       Vic and I talk about this one and we really can't picture the cacher, whom we had met, saying what he did while a man held a gun on him. Never know though, what can happen when you are under duress. We also talked about this cache log to family and friends. Yup, this was quite the hobby we were taking part in!

         Several months later, literally out of the blue, I came to the realization that the local cache was not as it seemed. I don't know what triggered the thought but there it was. This was a cache of fabricated logs, cacher's constructions, finder's fiction. In short, this was a "liar's cache."  I laughed out loud and Vic asked what was so funny. When I told her, she just said "noo" with an incredulous look on her face. We had both heard the term liar's cache before but were just at this moment putting it all together in our heads.

  We reread the logs with our new found understanding and yep it was glaring at us. Too many inconsistent details. We were picturing ourselves in conical caps on tall stools in the corner, when after doing a Google search on brown recluse bites, we find the exact photo that was in the log. We find another of the posted pics as well. And Vic had even sent a sympathy email to the "injured" writer of the log!

   I can tell you our mouths were stretched out really wide from being hooked so hard. We looked up the bubba cache as well and sure enough the logs had all the same traits. We had been taken in totally and completely!

    So how did we feel about this? shocked at the deception, relieved our new hobby wasn't that dangerous, wanting to somehow strike back at those who fooled us. Sure, but mostly we laughed at ourselves, letting out a big chuckle whenever we thought about it.

      We had begun placing our "Guardian Series" of caches last autumn. It was a series inspired by the time Vic reached for a cache and grabbed the fur of a snarling, needle toothed, possum that denned up next to the cache. Shortly after that we began to hide our own caches and came up with the Guardian idea featuring animals or insects that could potentially keep someone away from a cache. I had a whole bunch of ideas for containers and I still have several in the series that need to be placed.

         On one of the warmer late winter days when it seemed you just had to get out caching or go nuts, the cache owner of the local liars cache found several of our guardians. His logs said they were nice quirky containers but he wished more ammo cans and regulars would be placed so younger cachers could trade swag.

   We were miffed! We had put all that work into the containers and the cache pages and finding the perfect spots for our cache critters and we're told the containers should have been bigger! Did he not understand our series?

      Well, we calmed down and realized, he was a good, highly respected cacher who was just stating his opinion and a valid one at that. We can take critiscm. There was no need to bear ill feelings, just as he bore none against us. And in that calmer, more serene state of mind we planned our revenge.

   We decided upon a 3 prong attack, a fully coordinated, synchronized assault upon the vulnerable salients of his fortified domicile. Sending in sappers and our elite Guardian insect troops through the front and sides as a diversion while the reptile Guardians would make the main thrust into the rear and overtake the occupants. Then they would know beyond all doubt that not all Guardians can carry ammo cans!! Yet they can still be an effective fighting force in the war on unfound caches!    

   Or

  We could be a bit more subtle and stealthy and advance our cause through the very heart of his opinion. We would place ammo cans. Not just ordinary ammo cans, mind you. A Generic Ammo Can with a message! (Those of you who have read other stories in this column will recognize the "ANNOUNCER."  The following cache description was the first time he made an appearance in my writings.

.................................................................................................

Generic Ammo Can

Read all of the following, out loud, in your best Radio Announcer voice, with enthusiasm! Also read the fine print very quick and monotone.

 The pitch:

    Introducing... The Not another micro in the woods! The 16 gauge industrial steel, built to government spec, stout as a log, alternative to Tupperware. The surprise under the unnatural pile of sticks! The weatherproof, all terrain, keep those trade goods dry .......Generic Ammo Can!!!!  Camouflaged to blend in with its surroundings, it holds a treasure trove of swag in its spacious 461.3 cubic inch interior. Perfect for the family outing!! And talk about your travel bugs, this baby has room for them, keeping them safe and dry in between journeys. Come out for a test find today and see if you don't agree that the Generic Ammo Can is the best caching experience around!

                                              The fine print:

 Taxes, title and license waived, 50 cal version covered with optional camo upgrade, must seek from hidden stock before muggled and archived, thanks to mastercacher  for  this container ,that we won  at the "Geocache the Bluffs" event. Original contents include: children's puzzles, fast food toys, Sacagawea dollar.   Cache description inspired by the thought "How do I sell another Generic Ammo Can?" Please rehide as found, trade even or trade up, please log your visit in a cheerful, fun loving manner. Don't log it was an easy find, of course it is, it's an ammo can under an unnatural pile of sticks in the woods. Coordinates may be Gitchie when the tree cover fills back in. Watch for wildlife of all sorts, enjoy the surroundings, and take some time to appreciate the riparian forest ecosystem. Did you know that Sacagawea lived in this immediate area after the Lewis and Clark journey? Don't listen to, or spread urban legends, no one was ever lynched here and albino's live in houses like you and I, not in trees. Cache in trash out! Unfortunately, the amount of trash dumped here is scary. Help to reclaim this cacher's playground for future generations of cachers to enjoy. Thanks for listening to me ramble and spout, now... go out there and find those caches! Don't you just love this hobby? Wasn't it fun to play announcer and use your big voice like that?

.........................................................................................................................

    So how is that for a retaliatory strike? I had also picked at a few other nits in there, but they don't come into this story. We weren't done there though. We had another guardian (Don't' Worry be Hoppy!) log stating a regular would have been a better choice from this same cacher. This guardian wanted to live under a bridge. The bridge he lived under was over a creek flowing through an urban park. Tough to find unoccupied bridges in this town, the trolls have claimed almost all of them, so he snapped it up. But because of the nearby wooded areas along the banks, let alone the unnatural yet unoccupied, pile of sticks only yards away, I could once again understand the cacher's point of view. So once again we turned to an ammo can to redress this affront to our cache hides. 

..........................................................................

Howdy Neighbor

Hoppy, GC18CY7 was so pleased with the area his guard shack is in that he invited his friend, Howdy, the horse trader,(they can't all be Guardians) to build his cache barn nearby. He took him up on the offer and built a fancy red barn just down the road a piece. There's plenty of room for a trade or two and non-trading visitors are welcome also.
Howdy and Hoppy both, would like to say "Happy Trails to You" as you cache off into the sunset.

................................................................................

   Subtle, but we felt our point was made. And in a very neighborly un-confrontational manner. Now it might seem that I have wandered off a bit from the beginning where I was talking about a liars cache. Well, just like when I'm out caching I wander some, but eventually get to where I need to be. That don't mean I see the cache, but that I got to where I need to be.

 Time to claim the liars cache and post my final act of revenge upon this outspoken cacher. I had worked several days on my log and felt it had believable details, ok, mostly believable. I had learned a long time ago at work, that if you make something up, do it to the fourth decimal place and it usually won't be questioned. The beginning had a dream sequence that was followed by the fictitious account of my hardships in tackling this challenge. After finding the actual cache and sitting down to log the find, Vic talked me out of posting the dream sequence saying something about burying the hatchet before someone gets hurt. Actually, she didn't like it, plain and simple. She used the hatchet to cut that part out. And I was hurt! What a critic!

And now for the first time in print, the uncut catsnfish Liars Log.

.............................................................

   Well we finally got around to working the puzzle for this one and after several days and late nights we had it solved. It was too cold and late for the attempt so I called and talked to my nephew about prusik knots because my monkey skills are not what they used to be. A last minute check to make sure all my gear was assembled and off to bed anticipating the effort it would take to get this cache.

         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 figure 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 back pack, and an old ball cap. As the figure became more solid I noticed 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. Ok 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 can into his pack he replied "I am the Missing Cacher,  by the way you have termites, 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 are 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!

   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 20 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 teddy bear and the other a nalgene bottle. Dropping the bottle into the bucket he replaced the lid, and made sure that it was well sealed.

    Turning to look at me, 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. Seems we have a character here. Reluctant to turn the mood by getting down to business, I hesitantly ask "Aren't you suppose to show me how things were better in the old days of caching before nano's and bison's?" 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'll 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's 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?" Whoda 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 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 nano's. 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 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, the Breakfast at Moose with Seuss on the Loose? Stop it! I say!"

   Incredulous faces looked toward me, 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 nano's for that matter, can be as boring as well,  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 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.

 

    Aah, the day begins, I felt rested and strangely refreshed and ready to tackle this long put off cache. The plan was for me to plunge in and Vicki and Wedge would follow along to pull me out of trouble if need be. (Wedge has done that before, literally) I thought the water crossing was safe, but slipped on the ice and tore up my pants on a rock. I checked for lacerations but it was just bruised and scraped. I kept on going and recovered the clue and did the math. Limped on to the next stage. I tossed the rope over and made it fast and tried to climb, but my knots kept slipping. So Vic called my nephew and described the problem. He told her I had to use a flat webbing not a round rope for the prusik knots. Luckily, Wedge's leash was the retractable type and had plenty of length for my needs. Come to think of it, her pinch collar wrapped around my boots would have kept me from slipping on the ice. Oh well, we learn by adversity, hmm, that might be a good subtitle for this cache. Ok got those coordinates and it's on to the physical cache, I knew there were some nasties protecting it from reading past logs, and I figured I could dash in grab the cache and roll on past it to a safe distance to sign the log, but they must have been huddled up for warmth and left me alone. Good thing because I didn't have a plan to rehide the cache. Well by this time my fingers were so stiff and painful from the cold I had to put them under my armpits to warm up. Finally, able to open the container and maneuver my pencil, I signed the log for catsnfish and wedge the cacher, who, being a dog and leashless came bounding up without any trouble at all. Dropped off Everglades 3 Geocoin. SL. Good luck to the next person foolish enough to try this one.

.............................................................................................

And now I expect you're looking for a moral to the story. I think the Ghost of Caching Future pretty much summed it up, that and fight cachers with caches.

In a humorous manner of course! That way we all win.

 

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.

Please login to post your comments.