Trying to Find Small Adventures to Keep Us Sane
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Most days distance learning is an unbearable slog, but some days it is an unbearable slog with geocaching at the end.
My 8-year-old discovered geocaching while completing his required weekly minutes on a learning app his school uses called iReady. The article he had to read and answer questions about explained what geocaching was. I can only assume the creators of the program must’ve thought children would only be reading this article at school and would forget about it by the time they got home. Otherwise, filling a child’s brain with another activity that forces parents to download an app, put on pants, get in the car, drive, and wade through mosquito-infested swamps is downright cruel.
So it was that after several weeks (a month, several months, two decades??) spent almost completely at home, my children and I piled into the car and embarked on our first geocaching expedition. I had almost forgotten how long it takes to get everyone’s shoes on, but it all came back to me quickly in a flood of repressed memories and tears.
We eventually made it out of the driveway and arrived less than ten minutes later at our first geocache location. I realize now I have not explained what geocaching is yet. That’s partially because I don’t really know and partially because I am very tired.
From what I was able to gather after looking at the app for five minutes or so is that people place small containers at various locations all over the world and you can use the app to locate the containers. The reason for doing this is unclear, but you have to remember we are all desperate.
Anyway, it seemed like a safe enough activity that wouldn’t involve any interaction with or infection by other people. However, I did not account for the bees.
Our first search point was at a park we go to regularly. We parked in the parking lot and I used my phone to guide us a few steps toward the park entrance sign where the geocache (I don’t know…this is what I’m calling the container) appeared to be located. There was a small decorative brick wall and metal fence surrounded by bushes and my best guess was that the geocache was in there somewhere.
While the children flitted about, I went to push aside a few branches of a bush to see if I could spy the cache behind there and I was immediately stung by a bee between my fingers.
Literally the first thing I touched while geocaching injured me. It’s a rough game and not for the faint of heart. But that’s why we love it.
I hopped around for a bit, clutching my hand with my other hand, and knelt on one knee to really drive the point home. My 8-year-old did his best to console me, but he quickly lost interest.
After I sucked it up and returned to a standing position, we poked around in the bushes a little more (I used my foot because when you’re geocaching you have to adapt) before declaring it a lost cause. We returned to the car cache-less.
Of course, serious geocachers never give up so we headed to another potential location. When we arrived, I pulled up the notes the hider had left on the app and found a long soliloquy about the site of this geocache being a “DMZ” or “demilitarized zone.” He took some time to explain what that meant, and I started to get a little freaked out. It would appear that geocaching attracts some unusual folk and it’s possible I’m not the target demographic.
We parked on a small, empty circle on a side road. From what I could tell we were at a retention pond with a fence around it beside a post office. But perhaps that’s what demilitarized zones look like? I’m no expert.
I used the app to guide us and we made our way into the brush beside the fence. Almost immediately, we came upon a second fence and, as was mentioned in the notes, there was what amounted to a narrow walkway between the two fences. I picked up the 3-year-old and we walked carefully through the tunnel, being careful to avoid thorns, poison ivy, and any stray hand grenades left over from the war.
We found it!
It was a small silver tube hanging on a rusty ring from one of the fences. We opened it up, retrieved the tiny, rolled-up piece of paper from within (the log), and wrote our names and date. That’s what you do when geocaching, I think.
The adrenaline was pumping so hard, we made one last stop at another geocache location nearby. This turned out to be a very easy one. The notes said it was an "ammo can" (of course) by a tree in a small park. My kids asked what an ammo can was and I said, "I'm not sure. Like a tin can, probably."
It was not like a tin can. It was a metal box, musty green in color with several latches on it and it had small prizes inside. After arguing over what to take and what to leave, we poached a few items, wrapped up our expedition, and returned home.
All things considered, it was an afternoon well spent. We’re used to going on little adventures and this was certainly the most interesting thing we’d done in weeks.
Are we hooked? I’ll let you be the judge.
Over dinner the next day, my 6-year-old noted that we forgot to go geocaching that afternoon. I said we’d do it another day, so it was no problem. And then, feeling uncharacteristically adventurous and ambitious, I added, “Maybe we could actually place one for people to find. Would you want to do that?”
“Why?” my 8-year-old replied.
“Good point,” I said, and we continued with our dinner.
We were born to geocache. This is our thing now. At least for a day or so.
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