by Yrium also known as Charles F. Simons

June 18

Gromit seems to have a burr in his saddle. We are driving South on I-15 on our way to search for the just placed Mast Madness cache. It’s just me and the wonderdog, Whistlestick is at home helping our son Ding-Daddy with something. So its just me in the car to witness Gromit’s strange behavior. I’m looking over at the passenger seat next to me on which G-dog is doing some cross between the Lambada and the Hokey-Pokey. He is standing on all fours and twirling around madly… Well, maybe not madly but he did do either two or three revolutions while all the time looking down at the car seat. I don’t know if he was sitting on a tack or what his problem was but he eventually got it sorted out and sat down again. “Did you sit on a pea Princess?” I asked Gromit sarcastically. “That car seat is Whistlestick approved so you should have no problem with it” I added as an after thought. Gromit just sat there and smiled. He wouldn’t divulge what had caused his bucket seat bugaloo so I guess we’ll never know.

We arrive at our disembarkation point and climb out of the Pathfinder. Gromit is really jazzed now cuz he can tell we are going to be going off pavement and he’ll get some real dirt between his paws. We’ve been restricted to doing 1/1 caches for the last few months due to my bum leg so he has been getting used to getting out of the car and walking 50 feet then finding the cache before returning to the car. As we are walking Gromit is going thru paroxysms of sniffing at each bush or tree we walk past. I think he’s playing it up a bit so that I’ll know that he really enjoys the longer walks. “I know Gromit, I know” I tell him “you don’t have to ham it up so much”. Point made, Gromit settles down and starts acting more like a regular dog and not like some cocaine fiend trying to snort the last faint vestiges of powder off his cutting board after his supplier has cut him off.

Nice area here. There is a jogging/bike path that we cross that is in full use. As we walk down the gentle incline to approach a pond we notice that the there are a couple of children fishing. I can’t imagine what type of fish might be present in such a small pond, maybe catfish? We paused and watched for a moment while I tried to decide which side of the pond the cache was on. It really looked to me like it was on the far side so we had to decide which way to walk around the pond to get to the cache area. I needed to get it right as already my leg was complaining because of the small distance we had covered. Mentally flipping a coin we set off on what I hoped was the right direction. We got to within 400 feet of the cache at our closest point going this way. We saw a little trail leading into the rushes skirting the pond but declined to take it. It descended maybe six feet or so from the path we were on and I wasn’t too sure I was up to climbing back up it on our return trip so I decided we would circle around the other way to see if it was more handicap accessible.

After crossing a little bridge we found a godsend. Some trail planner had deposited a park bench right before an incline leading who knows where. Back when I had my health I’m sure I would have wondered what type of out-of-shape slug would ever find use for this bench since it was so close to the start of the walk. Now I know, I won’t ever make fun of those benches that are so close to where you park ever again. As me and Gromit are sitting there we notice little puffs of what appears to be cotton candy are slowly drifting in the breeze. Did a confectioner’s shop blow up recently in the area? What’s the deal with all this weightless fluff? I start to look around more closely and I see that the tree across the way has a lot of stems on it that are sporting tons of the stuff. I took a picture of it. I’ll ask Tuna if he knows what it is.

Okay we’ve rested enough, time to get trekking again. We continue on our way for another couple of minutes when we come across a couple, one of which appears to have a GPS. “Are you geocaching?” I ask because I still don’t know what the secret hand-signals are that geocachers use to identify each other in the wild. Its Splashman and Splashette. We exchanged pleasantries for a few moments and I learn that while I’m not famous, Gromit most definitely is as Splashette informs me that she recognizes him. I hope Gromit didn’t hear because he has a big enough opinion of himself already. He doesn’t need his head swelled anymore. I’m getting tired of replacing his pillows cuz they wear out so fast due to the size and weight of his noggin. I have to cut short our little visit due to a burning in my leg. Bidding them adieu I shamble to the top of this section of the trail and find a convenient rock to sit down on. Looks like I’ve reached the end of my endurance. I’ll have to leave the discovery of MAST MADNESS for a future visit. What was I thinking of going for a 1.5/2 cache? I must have been dreaming. Gromit’s not unhappy as we’ve return to the car. He’s had a better walk today than he’s had in months. I’m okay too, I’ve probably walked twice as much in the last hour than I have in the past two days. I’m improving!

June 23

After a friendly email from a MAST MADNESS veteran I learned where to park for the shortest walk to the cache. Gromit was eager to explore some new territory as we pretty much started our hunt, this time, from the place I pooped out last time. We started our walk around 6:00 pm; it was starting to cool off from the heat of the day as we dropped down from the end of the sidewalk into the foliage we had just a short walk to get to the general cache area.

Walking on paths surrounded by trees we were still able to hear people talking and laughing from the jogging path that Gromit and I had discovered on our first visit but we were totally cut off from their view. Just a few steps from the cache now I’m a bit distracted looking at my GPS so I don’t notice as I walk right into the end of a sharp branch that is poking outward. OUCH! I’ve been punctured! If I was the Michelin Man I would have been severely deflated, as it was I sustained a little hole in my leg that would have made any river leech proud as it started to produce little beads of blood that would well up before succumbing to gravity’s pull and racing down my leg to disappear inside my sock. I didn’t feel like I was going to bleed to death anytime soon so I ignored it as I started looking for the cache again.

I was lucky and found the cache in just a few moments. I retreated a short distance away with it in case anyone wandered by and pulled out the logbook. After reading everybody’s entry I added my own. I took a Carmelo Martinez baseball card from the selection in the cache. I remember the cheer I used to use for Carmelo when I’d be sitting in cheap seats at the ballpark. I’d sit out with the other people paying five bucks to get into the game and yell “Don’t be so mello Carmelo!” when he would swing and miss. I don’t know if my cheers ever helped the Padres but I do know I’d get many a laugh from the surrounding seats. Doesn’t really compare with yelling “D-a-r-r-y-l… D-a-r-r-y-l over and over ad nauseam whenever Darryl Strawberry’s team would come to Jack Murphy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone heckled so thoroughly and thoughtlessly in the history of mankind.

To pay for the nostalgic Carmelo card I left five geocaching trading cards of my own devising. These were #2 in a set of twenty I’m calling Yrium’s Pals. If you want to see who’s featured on the #2 card you have to visit the cache – I’m not telling.

Getting to my feet and putting the cache back I notice the blood trail running down my leg has caused quite the party scene on my shin. Numerous little black gnats are perched on my leg amidst the blood river feeding off my red corpuscles. “Hey! Get off there you pesky varmints!” I shouted as I waved my hand at those fearless miniscule insects. I don’t know if this brand of bug was hard of hearing or maybe the drugs in my system prescribed to fight the blood clot in my leg made them fearless but they did not retreat at all after my yell. Nope, they didn’t move an inch. Not wanting to mash them between my palm and leg by slapping at them, I instead fanned them with my cupped hand in hopes that would dissuade them from their vampiric orgy. Nope, nothing doing, those obtuse mites are asking for my ultimate weapon I’ve developed for dealing with stubborn bugs. Yes that’s right, time to unleash the fearsome flick. No bug can withstand it. Forefinger cocked and held back by my thumb I maneuver my hand into position to do maximum damage to these obnoxious winged gnats. Flick! Flick! Flick! The bugs have no comeback for the Armageddon that I’ve unleashed on them. From their viewpoint I can see why. Here they are sedately helping themselves to some luscious red colored grub when suddenly a mammoth finger breaks the sound barrier over their head as it sweeps out of the sky and approaches them at mach four or five. Before they can react the finger smacks into them instantly accelerating them from zero to sixty miles an hour, their little segmented bodies are crushed instantly under the assault.

Hummm, I almost feel sorry for them. Maybe we should give peace negotiations a chance… But then I harden my heart and its Flick! Flick! Flick! some more till all the bugs go bye bye.

--- yrium ---