Trail Hound

The perils and pleasures of cache-hiding

Hiding a geocache for others to find is like hosting a party.  You want something that will please your guests, not be a pain in the neck  to manage, and won't annoy the neighbors.  Some people are geocaching socialites, hosting - or owning, in geocaching parlance - dozens of caches.  I'm more reserved, with just seven active caches lying in wait for my geocaching guests.

Last weekend I placed a two-part multi-cache called "Punkhorn West: Cranberry Trails" along paths leading through woods and cranberry bogs in the western edge of Brewster's Punkhorn Parklands.  The first stage is a micro - just a small capsule containing the navigational coordinates for the final stage - and the final is a lock-and-lock box containing a log book and trade items like bug spray (an important Punkhorn accessory), mini-trash bags, stickers, a calculator keychain, and carabiner clips.

"I prefer to be shown something. I don't demand it, but it is nice to go somewhere and see something important to the individual(s) who placed the cache," posted a geocacher on the geocaching.com New England forum.  "My perfect cache is a nice hike under enough shade trees to block the sun, but still let my GPS work, to a nice vista. Perhaps with an interesting geological formation, or a bit of history."

Hopefully, the forum geocacher would like my new Punkhorn cache.  The site is a well-preserved piece of Cape Cod's natural history, it's certainly shady, it may not have a sweeping vista but the woods possess a serene beauty, and it's special to me as an out-of-the-way preserve that's a mainstay of my running route.  Running regularly by the hidden cache makes it easy for me to maintain.  There are few things more disappointing than finding a trashed cache.

Some cache owners (you know who you are!) enjoy devising clever, challenging and deceptive cache containers.  The unique features of where the cache is placed are secondary to identifying the cache itself.  I've seen caches in magnetic sheets that look like utility-box components; in faux hardware; and even in natural-appearing objects that have a hidden compartment.  I'm sure there are geocachers who relish conquering these "evil" hides, but I'm with the forum poster:  Give me a scenic spot I might not have otherwise discovered.

Just as a party host wouldn't want guests trampeling the neighborhood, a geocache should be hidden so that the landscape isn't noticeably disturbed.  I've kept mine hidden along established paths so people don't create "social trails" by bushwhacking.  And it should go without saying, although geocaching.com has to post it prominently on its Terms of Service, that caches should only be hidden where the public is welcome and geocaching is allowed. 

So the cache is hidden, it's been reviewed by the local geocaching administrator and published on geocaching.com.  You hold your breath to see when it will first be found and who will find it.  You await their posted comments on the cache Web page like a Broadway cast awaits the New York Times critic's report.  Have you given good directions (are your GPS coordinates within accurate range)?  Was finding the cache as easy or difficult as advertised?  Did they like where it was placed?  Does it eventually make the unofficial list of "must do" caches that geocachers share with each other? 

A few poorly placed caches can make you a geocaching pariah.  But rewarding geocachers with a good find will strengthen both the hiders' and the seekers' interest in the hobby and connection to the world around them.

Happy Trails.

Photos, from top:

Cape Cod Pathways marks a Punkhorn trail to the cache

Maybe not a sweeping vista, but cranberry bogs are an integral part of this region's landscape and can be viewed along the trail

Entering the Punkhorn Parklands

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Water quality wake-up calls

It's said that bad things come in threes.  This summer, three notable events regarding our freshwater quality have smacked me in the nostrils, caused lost recreation opportunities and extra dirty laundry, and made me realize that our beloved pristine kettle ponds and estuaries are gasping for help. 

First:  Hinckleys Pond in Harwich and Walkers Pond in Brewster were closed to recreation for several weeks because of toxic blue-green algae blooms.  The algae growth was fed by an abundance of nutrients (primarily nitrogen and phosphorus from septic and fertilizer) running into the ponds after June's heavy rains.  There went three weeks of kayaking or stopping for a cool swim along the Rail Trail.  Second:  the stench from excessive algae and fish kills in Dennis' Swan Pond made us hold our breath while driving through North Harwich to Dennisport, even with car windows tightly closed.  Third:  doing the "Mucky Mill Pond" paddle cache on Yarmouth's Mill Pond - the site of several cool geocaches including "Mill Pond Meander," which goes by an active osprey nest - more than lived up to its mucky name.  The brown floating algae made it look disturbingly like a sewer, and my kayaking shorts came out looking like they'd been in the mud.

These aren't incidents of illegal dumping of toxic substances, but the more insidious damage of nonpoint source pollution.  Kettle ponds are fed by groundwater, so what goes into the ground from chemical lawn additives to human and animal waste ultimately finds its way to the water.  The ponds are choking.  

Brewster recently released its draft ponds report, prepared by researchers from the School of Marine Science and Technology at UMass Dartmouth, to assess whether its 29 ponds met state and federal standards for dissolved oxygen, pH (acidity measure) and temperature, as well as other, qualitative measures of ecological health.  The draft report's conclusion isn't as pretty as the ponds might appear: 

"It is clear from the collected data that most of Brewster ponds have compromised water
quality. Generally, these impairments do not affect their use for recreational purposes except
perhaps for fishing, but the many of the ponds are ecologically impaired and some do not meet
state regulatory standards. Those that do not meet state regulatory standards will be required to
have TMDLs [Total Maximum Daily Loads] developed and plans will have to be prepared to meet the TMDLs. The town will also have to decide how it will choose to address those ponds that meet state standards, but are
impaired based on all other known ecological measures."

Cape Cod is perched on a single, continuous aquifer.  The ponds we find soothing to look at, restorative to swim in and idyllic for paddling, fishing and sailing are the proverbial canary in a coal mine when it comes to groundwater health.  Measures to protect wetlands, mitigate stormwater runoff and improve wastewater treatment need to rise to the top of the public agenda while we still have a chance to preserve our water resources.

Photos, from top:

Walkers Pond, New Year's - Brewster

Slough Pond, Brewster

Osprey nest at Mill Pond, Yarmouth

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DeTours for techie travelers

Pity the plight of the poor business traveler.  You spend a lot of time hanging around transportation terminals just waiting.  Oh sure, you can check your email or update your facebook status to kill time before embarking on the 4:45.  If you're unfortunate enough to be stuck in an airport, you can watch endless loops of CNN, catch up on celebrity gossip magazines or pay a princely sum for a drink in a lounge that has all the ambience of, well, an airport lounge.

But bring along your handheld GPS loaded with some local geocache sites, and you've got a mini-adventure to fit into your travels.  Granted, if you're stuck in a major airport, your range of detouring for a geocache might be limited.  For those traveling around the Cape and Islands, however, there's plenty to be found within walking distance of harbors and commercial centers.

Last week I traveled to Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket for some assignments and managed to squeeze in a geocache at each island in between appointments and travel schedules.  It was a great way to see more of the islands than the typical run-through.

An hour between my last appointment in Vineyard Haven and the ferry for Woods Hole gave me just enough time to walk out State Road a mile and a half to the Lake Tashmoo overlook.  Nearby is a "park and grab" cache, "Cachemoo?"  Seeking a roadside cache is a good thing when one is wearing decent shoes and business-casual clothes.  This isn't the time to go bushwhacking through catbriar and tick-infested swamps.  The site offers a view overlooking fields and the expansive lake that runs out to the sea, a scene you don't get from typical ferry crossings.

Walking back to the ferry gave me a chance for more browsing at the stores, cottages and eateries along the road.  You take in a lot more of a place when traveling at three miles an hour.  For instance, I wondered what was up with the old Boston and Maine dining car at the Black Dog Cafe.  You never hear about THAT on the commercials-- I'm sure it's got a story behind it, too.

The next day I took my first flight in "an itty-bitty plane," a 10-seat Cessna from Hyannis to Nantucket.  Hyannis was foggy and rainy, but Nantucket was clear enough to walk the mile or so between destinations.  I scoped out "Lily Pond" cache a short walk from the center of town along cobblestone streets lined with gray-shingled houses and gardens bursting with hydrangeas and roses.  The first trick to this cache was finding how to access the park in which it is hidden.  After an extra mile of circling the area, I found the public entrance to a hidden greensward, with little trails surrounded by hedges that effectively block the outside world.  There is no lily pond here, but the story goes that they used to flood the park in winter so children could ice skate. 

Back on the Cape, there are plenty of options for caching near transportation hubs.  Waiting for a whale watch from Barnstable Harbor?  Try "Blish Point Boat Ramp."  Harborside Hyannis is full of caches.  So is Provincetown.

Travelers, ditch the USA Today and explore the places around your commute.  Any you might want to tuck a pair of sneakers in your briefcase.

Happy trails.

Photos, from top:

Vineyard Haven harbor from Steamship Authority terminal

Lake Tashmoo overlook

Black Dog Cafe's old dining car

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Work-Avoidance Maneuvers

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Faith, perseverance or just dumb stubbornness

New Englanders are supposedly a hardy - or at least stubborn - bunch.  Heaven knows, we endure endless winters only to have endless mud season in hopes of a few fine days of days of sunshine and gentle breezes.  Until recently we lived with constant  hope for our boys of summer, only to have our hearts broken in October.  We don't seem to know when to throw in the towel; but as we've seen with the Red Sox and the glories of a sparkling July day, faith has its rewards.

So it is with geocaching.  There are caches out there that you just have to find, no matter how long or how many tries it takes.  Some people will stay at a cache site until, goll' darnit, they make the find.  They will not go home and log it as a DNF (Did Not Find).  Others will depart but not record their failure, while scheming and consulting with other cachers about their next attempt to conquer the elusive cache.  Then there are those who finally shrug their shoulders and cry uncle:  DNF.

Local caches have brought me through all stages of stubbornness, denial, frustration, giving up and trying again.  The "Keyes Beach" cache in Hyannis took three tries, and for good reason:  the original cache had disappeared, or been "muggled" in geo-speak.  On my first try, in February, the only other person walking along the beach decided to sit down on the bench exactly where my GPS receiver was homing in on.  On the second try, in May, I got to Ground Zero and searched high and low but found nothing besides trash.  At that point, I gave up and logged it a DNF, which alerted the owner who confirmed it was no longer there.  Third time, after the cache had been replaced, was a charm and I was rewarded with the satisfaction of adding it to my finds and of a gorgeous view on one of the rare sunny days in June.

"Stony Brook Run," at Brewster's historic gristmill, is another cache that has frustrated many.  This one has not gone missing, however; it's just extremely well hidden.  My first attempt involved some gymnastics to look under and beyond the footbridge and surrounding structures which might hide the cache.  Thankfully, the herring migration was still a few weeks away when I tried this in March, so there weren't many people to observe this odd behavior.  Eventually, I went with the phone-a-friend strategy and joined forces on site with another experienced cacher.  Still no luck.  But my companion had had the foresight to invite the cache owner to join us - and after we valiantly tried for over an hour to locate this little capsule with a rolled-up log slip, the owner arrived and revealed all.

Sometimes it's an extremely cleverly-hidden cache; sometimes the cache really has disappeared; and sometimes you're just having an off day.  The trick is to know when to keep trying, when to re-examine the situation, when to ask for help and when to simply log a DNF.  But geocachers - at least in New England - always keep coming back.

Photos, from top:

Rosa rugosa at Keyes Beach

Stony Brook herring run

Keyes Beach

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