I can't believe how unscary this picture looks. I was very paranoid about stepping out on this tree. It's about 3x longer than it looks. It's about 5x higher off the ground. And it's about 20x less stable. I'm not making that up. I'm not generally nervous about stepping out on edges and structurally unsound things, but I was nervous about this tree.
Left. Box. Right. Box. Boxes everywhere. You want some box? Go anywhere but straight ahead and you'll get yourself some box. Me? I like box. This sign made me very happy. There's a map in case you get lost on the way to the box.
SMAH!!!! Or SAHM!!!! Something like that. This is a letterbox. The idiot's geocache. Who has time to carry a stamp with them? Oh...that's right. BOBCAM does. We saw his stamped signature all over the place. I have no doubts that if you want to pull down caching numbers in the tens of thousands, you have to find ways to streamline. This is one of the nicer letterboxes I've seen as it really did double duty as a cache. Only three stamps in the log book, however. Sort of sad given the love and attention lavished on the box.
I WILL HUMP THE S*** OUT OF YOU GEOCACHE!!! We've all seen those humping tortoise videos. Don't pretend you haven't. This is one very confused tortoise. It's probably the camo.
Oven top. We took the roundabout route to this one. Sort of walked in a spiral that narrowed in on it only to realize it was only about 100' off the main path on a tributary path. Strange object to find in the woods.
Boss, being all serious about his geocaching. Or offering me something from his bag of crack. Hard to say. But the context implies geocaching.
Tigger! Fortunately, there was no Pooh in the cache.
This was a fun one. The cache is in the handle of the shovel - it had a name like "I dig this park".
Moe the Sleaze was here! I showed this picture to Eryn and then had to explain what a sleaze was. Chaymus (from work) asked me how I explained "sleaze". I tried to tell her it was sort of the boy who paid you too much attention, but if you were older than 8. And who told jokes you shouldn't be listening to. I admit, it was a rather loose definition that wasn't "some guy who caches".
There's a cache in that tree. Part of our day took us completely around this prairie grass area. Quite the hike.
That is a plunger. Did you know that a plunger fits perfectly over a peanut butter jar? It's like how your hand, at the middle finger, is exactly the size of your mini me. Or your reach is your height. Or your foot length corresponds to your IQ. Or the cc's in your mouth are exactly the cc's of your balls. It's true... Don't believe me? Try it.
F-in bird caches. They always scare me. You're looking and looking and then there's a bird next to your head and you're worried you've caught some bird-borne virus.
Guess!!! It's a cache ......... cache ...... cow! Looks like an ornament. Boss and I discussed that we should put out a temporary cache at Christmas that has about a thousand ornaments, each with "look at the blank ornament" inside a container. If you're really lucky, you manage to start a few reads from the end. If you're unlucky, you start about 200 reads from the end. Brutal. A multi-cache on a single tree.
I don't know why. It's a screw for a boat. It's in the woods. There's no water. There are no boats. But there weren't any cows or toilets either. Wait...scratch that. There were toilets.
See. I s*** a cache. Don't I look blissfully happy turtling something larger than my head into a bed pan? Since the surgery, I have the balloon knot of a superhero. I could pass a dozen caches and still be relaxed and ready to hike the next tenth of a mile.
Excellent day of caching. It's good to set a personal record.
2 comments:
You can say anything you like about me, just spell my name right. It's "Sleaze"! :-)
Oh no! I'll fix that. Usually the spellchecker fixes my spelling. I'm glad I didn't use the urban dictionary - they seem to spell it the way I do in at least one case.
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