Talk:Finding a cache

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Revision as of 00:06, 29 June 2005 by 211.31.175.224 (talk) (My name is Bronze and I am a Geocacher.)
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It takes one to know one but I guess I can try to explain it.

My name is Bronze and I am a geocacher. I can't help it. I have tried to give up. Honestly. This one time I went cold turkey for two whole weeks. I waited till the dead of winter when it was darkest and cache activity nearby would be at it lowest. It would have been my best chance.

I planned it like it was to be a five/five. In cache talk that means that this task was going to be physically, mentally and financially difficult to no end. I would be pushed to my absolute limits of endurance and I know I would need special help and planning to beat this, this, thing I do with my gaget. I can't help but fool with it and it make me happy when I feel it's smooth rounded shape, cool, rippled outer rubber and glowing screen. It points me to where I need to be.

Anyhow, I digress. I planned that when the planets of fate aligned themselves I could beat this thing. The batteries were at their lowest level of supply in the house, at the time petrol had hit a dollar, rego was due, the house needed constant attention, the kids were getting into trouble at school and needed more attention. My plan was falling into place. I loaned my GPS to a mate so all temptation would be gone and I could sit and relax. I thought. I could read a book, mabey the junk mail. So I opened the junk mail. Plastic containers were reduced by fourty percent and there was a good deal of six varied sizes for nine dollars and ninety-five cents. I quickly burnt it before I could read it was Clints Warehouse. The wife was not impressed about the smoldering mess filling the lounge room with smoke. I though I'll go and lie on the trampoline, perhaps enjoy some time with my two son, both sick of any mention of Geocaching. we enjoyed the setting sun and counted the stars coming out. soon dinner would be called and that was a signal of only a couple of more hours and I would have survived my first day cold turkey. It was a lovely time until a slowly glowing streak of light caught my sons eye and he called "Look Dad" and I shut my eyes knowing full well it was a satelite passing over the Australian winter sky. It looked so sad and it's look of disdain and disgust lives with me today. I felt the weakness like a smoker it taunted by the stresses of that lone drag behind the shed.

I recall being very proud of myself making it to bedtime without reaching for a mouse, discovering a stashed cache page, picking up a kids toy and sizing it up whether its suitable for a small, regular or large. In my boxers and under the electric blanket about to enjoy a hot cup of Milo when the phone rings. "Bronze, I'm at Momentary Fear of Fault. Can you give me a hint mate?" Well, I couldn't leave him out there in the cold, searching for my cache all alone. What if something happened, perhaps a rogue Road Train left the road and shot the 800 meters through the bush and ingured, even killed him. What sort of friend would I be. So I had to help him.

I've been clean for about 14 months now. Not once in that time have I though about giving up Geocaching. There is always a GPS at hand and a chorus of sliding batteries can be heard skidding from left to right and vice versa as I turn the corners heading out to another cache. My friends understand. My family lives with it and my children, well lets just say were having a third and it will inherit all that I have hidden for it.

My name is Bronze and I am a Geocacher.