Tulare Advance Register newspaper wrote:
Catch the cache GPS gives treasure hunters an eye in the sky
By Mike Hazelwood
Staff writer
That new hobby leads a retired judge of 20 years into bushes along an In-N-Out Burger drive-through, searching for ... who knows what?
"You kind of feel like an idiot with people looking at you," says Dave Allen, 74, the retired Tulare County judge.
What hobby has a 29-year-old man tracking a SpongeBob SquarePants keychain that has hitch-hiked from California to Hawaii to Colorado?
"It's traveled about 6,000 miles now," says Robert Berge, the 29-year-old from Porterville.
What new hobby has fans of all ages chasing blips on a screen, roaming the globe for small goodies and the thrill of discovery?
It's called geocaching, an electronic treasure hunt done with Global Positioning System coordinates.
And if you haven't heard about it yet, you're quite frankly ... lost.
The hobby
Geocaching (pronounced "cashing") is all about the thrill of the hunt.
The basics of this simple sport:
# A geocacher hides a "cache" -- from keychains to refrigerator magnets to even cash, along with a journal -- and posts the GPS coordinates at
www.geocaching.com.
# Prizes are hidden everywhere, from downtowns to rural fields to national parks. Berge even tracked one down in an old gold mine.
# Other geocachers are alerted to nearby caches via the Web.
Cache
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iÝArmed with GPS units, they triangulate the coordinates and try to hunt down the cache. If they find it, they sign the journal. Then they either trade the cache or, in the case of Berge's SpongeBob, hide it elsewhere.
Recent caches led geocachers to the College of the Sequoias giant statue, the Tulare Welcome Center at the Horizon Outlet and Aero Dogs in Tulare.
Some cache stories spread like legend, such as the $100 bill still waiting somewhere in Kings Canyon National Park.
The cache isn't the only reward.
"You feel satisfaction when you find something you're looking for," Berge says.
But it's not always easy.
Sometimes a non-geocacher finds the cache and snags it.
Sometimes a new fence or some obstacle is erected after the cache is stashed.
Sometimes a geocacher can't take the odd looks from passersby who think they're a nut for snooping around parks, alleys, courthouses, pastures or elsewhere.
And sometimes you'll search high and low, only to find nothing. Then you return home and, according to the Web log, everyone else found it easily.
Call that the Geocacher's Lament.
Though he has found almost 300 caches in nearly a year, Allen still knows that feeling.
"You think, 'What the hell's wrong with me? Why can't I find it?' " Allen says.
The people
There isn't just one type of geocacher.
They're students, lawyers, housewives, househusbands, retirees and more. Often, they find the same prizes without running into each other, communicating mostly via the Web site.
"It's kind of secret society," says Berge, who shares his hobby with his wife, April, 27.
They keep coordinates and caches in their cars, in case they pass a good place to hide or seek.
They all enjoy a good hunt -- wherever they can find it. Many fans use geocaching to spice up a vacation.
Allen's family took a trip to Great Britain and Ireland recently. And before they left, they looked up caches waiting near their planned stops. They found about 10 in places like London and Dublin.
For geocachers, the sport is more than technology.
It's about a game that never ends. It's about playing a secret sport under mainstream America's nose.
That's why you may find geocachers like Allen, our retired judge, happily searching through the bushes. Or creeping around an alley, hiding a magnet cache under fire escapes.
Allen doesn't mind the strange looks he gets.
"People just assume you lost something," he says.
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Originally published Saturday, September 25, 2004