I soon began geocaching, and oh behold this addictive (free) game where one finds a hidden “cache” via GPS coordinates and sees… oh!…. what is there. Sometimes it is a tiny log where you sign your tiny name and tiny date in a tiny manner, or larger with complete junk, then larger sometimes delightfully full of goodies and trackables which will accompany a person from cache to cache with a mission.
Muggles… I know this slang word is taken from a movie… so help me, all I know is that it means “watchers” who might wonder what you are doing and after you leave, come to find the cache. Some are just curious and some are maleante, after mischief and theft or worse. Stealth is imperative due to these.
I picked up a 1980’s Surfer Raisin trackable from the Galveston Island State Park just prior to leaving. His goal is to see as many beaches and coastlines as possible. The park was going to shut down shortly and all I could think of was “Who is going to move him” regardless of the shutdown, as well as “Who goes down to Galveston and then continues to move along the shoreline?” They don’t. They head back to Dallas or so.
California! That was my answer. It soon became a selfish answer as I enjoyed the little fellow’s company and took him to “shorelines/coastlines” such as the Guadalupe River in New Braunfels, Texas clear across to the Petrified Forest in Arizona, where it was once a shoreline, although he could not surf there.
But his owners were becoming impatient. I could tell, despite my photos and cute comments from him.
Finding a cache his size was a challenge and Monterey was the answer. Please take a moment to appreciate my courage at uncovering this cache to drop him into after poking it with sticks for rattlers, scorpions, and the ghosts of Old West Outlaws as I pulled back those rocks, rocks, rocks.
Let the River Run 