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A family outing on the Delaware Geocaching Trail proves quite an adventure.
(page 5 of 6)
Don’t be hatin'
Time to find No. 3. I share the hint that I scribbled before we left home: “I’m on the second floor, the wood duck is on the third. I watch the beavers across the pond at night. Gnaw, Gnaw, Gnaw. My perch is too big for them. Have fun and bring your own pencil because I can’t hold one. Log only, bison tube. Put me back in same spot. Ribbit, Ribbit.”
We smell goodies being grilled at a nearby picnic. It doesn’t take long before we come upon a tree with an old wood duck box nailed to it. I remind everyone that this is a micro and the cache could be as small as a film canister. Problem is, because they’re growing up in the digital age, kids don’t know what a film canister is.
Audrey scores another cache. Jake is becoming discouraged. “How many is she going to find? I hate this.”
Unfortunately, we can’t sign the log because the paper is wet. Soaked in sweat and about an hour and a half into our adventure, I start thinking about that cool, thick vanilla shake. Janell is having similar visions. “Ice cream is at the end of the tunnel,” says the eternal optimist.
Jake, another step closer to 20 bucks, has something else on his mind as we pass by a spirited group grilling wieners. “You think we can ask those folks for a dog?”
We stop back at the van for a quick dose of AC and to grab another water bottle. We re-charge on an emergency stock of Smarties and Jolly Ranchers. The outside thermometer on the van reads 91 degrees.
Says Janell, “We could go get ice cream and come back.”
Nope. We’ve only been out here for an hour and a half. Suck it up, kids.
continued on page 6...
