Eight years ago, a friend introduced me to the pleasures of “geocaching”–essentially modern-day treasure hunting with a high-tech twist. He was visiting my northern Michigan cottage when he mentioned it, and I had no idea what he was talking about. But he went online (geocaching.com), found the latitude and longitude of a nearby cache, and plugged it into his handheld GPS device. That led us across a farm field to North Frog Pond, where, fighting off mosquitoes, we circled around and finally found the well-hidden container. We signed the logbook inside and obeyed the instructions to take a photo of ourselves to post online.
Since my initiation, I’ve made 367 finds, most in Ann Arbor, a hot spot for the hobby. More than 250 caches are hidden here: the city website even posts “Guidelines for Placing a Geocache in City of Ann Arbor Natural Areas.” (They include “obtain a permit” and “containers must be transparent.”) The caches or containers usually contain small, inexpensive trinkets; if you want to keep one, you are honor bound to replace it. (I recently traded a Boy Scout merit badge for a golf ball.) I’ve also hidden twenty-one caches, after first getting approval from the geocaching web site. Once approved, the cache appears on the site with a description, coordinates, maps, clues, comments, and a variety of web links. The searcher then downloads the information to a handheld GPS–and the hunt is on!
Finding our local caches can be a challenge. One near the lower entrance to Nichols Arboretum almost drove me crazy. I ran to the “GZ” (ground zero) half a dozen times before I found the well-hidden container. Another in the Arb is currently giving me headaches. It’s a “multi-cache,” meaning you must go to one or more locations for clues to the final hiding place. Called “Nichols Arboretum Cashe,” it comes with a clue that states, “Appearances can be as deceptive as a wooden nickel.” I assume that the misspelling of “cache” is deliberate and has something to do with the dead ash trees at GZ. I have given those trees full inspection, so far without any luck.
Most geocaches are planted outside, but there is no rule against indoor caches in places where the public has access. One multistage cache got me started in Burns Park. The container gave me coordinates that led to the U-M grad library; clues led me to a fake book in the reading room, along with a log sheet on which I could claim my find.
The best caches are well disguised. One might look like an electrical fixture, a birdhouse, or a rock. I’ve disguised a cache as a rock myself–and hid it by a pile of rocks near Mitchell Field. If you take up geocaching, that is one of seventeen you might find that I’ve created. There were twenty-one, but four have been “muggled”–destroyed or stolen.
The most recent to go was in County Farm Park, hidden in the hollow of a tree close to the creek. When I saw the extent of the Malletts Creek restoration project, I expected the worst and was not disappointed. The tree had met the axe during restoration.
Hiding and searching for geocaches has led me to scenic places I might never have visited otherwise. Satisfying as it was to find caches in the Stapp and Leslie Woods nature areas, discovering the lengthy, winding trails through woods and across streams there was even better.