As anyone who follows me knows, my Hubby is a geocacher. That means he uses a multi-billion-dollar satellite system to pinpoint the location of all sizes of what otherwise would be thought of as litter that has a paper inside it he can sign to prove he found it. Then he uses his $XXXX laptop computer to go to the website and log all his finds. Last I heard, he’d found over 4,000 caches. He also has established a little under 200 caches that he placed, found the coordinates for, wrote descriptions and puzzles to find them, and maintained for others to find.
Caches can be very tiny, like the size of the end of your pinkie. Others are large, like ammo boxes or coolers. Many are old prescription drug bottles, some are 3-D printed and disguised as natural elements like pinecones or twigs, or are otherwise concealed in the most ingenious ways. The thrill is the hunt and discovery. The agony of defeat when you have to walk away without finding it.
Groups of geocachers can be found in nearly every town. Hubby hooks up with them via that website. They help each other find the hard-to-find geocaches and talk about the really fun ones they’ve come across. They’re like little kids comparing adventures around the neighborhood. One thing’s for sure, all of them are almost obsessed with the hobby. As an observer, I know this is true. I have driven a lot of miles while Hubby tells me where to go and when to stop. Sometimes I get a lot of reading done while waiting for him to find what he’s looking for. But it doesn’t stop there.
Case in point: Hubby and I went to a 24-hour Whataburger at 1 a.m. to meet other geocachers. When I introduced myself to the lady who organized the gathering, she said “I’m know I’m crazy, but I had to do it.” Two other crazy geocachers joined us at that hour plus one non-geocacher who, if truth be told, is crazier than all of them for being there. Me!
The burger and fries were good as I listened to their stories. They all love the cemetery caches because you learn so much history there. One had a photo of the grave of Peter Meyhew who played Chewbacca from Star Wars. He’s buried in north Texas, which as a Star Wars fan, I didn’t know. His headstone is large, black, and has an etched picture of him, Chewbacca, the Death Star, and a rebel flyer. I’m always surprised what I can learn at the few gatherings I attend.
I spent an hour there while those four people traded stories, clues to where to find caches, and plans for putting more out. I couldn’t contribute to the conversation but eavesdropped on their tales. They were all very nice people which is what I find most impressive. All the geocachers I’ve met are warm, helpful, and eager to share their hobby with others. It’s a good way to meet people.
We got home a little after 2:30 a.m. and went to bed. I’m glad I went but probably won’t go to the next meeting. It’s at Buckee’s at 2 a.m. (Sunday morning) which is in the middle of my best sleep period during the night. Not wanting to sleep through church is my biggest reason not to go. I’m not good at sleeping while sitting up and might fall off the pew. Otherwise, I might consider it. I love Buckee’s BBQ brisket sandwiches, and I’m crazy. Life with Hubby sometimes requires me to be that way.
