RV Roamers was given the coords and this poem for his gift.
Twas the day after Christmas and all along the trail, a lone geocacher had started to wail. The coordinates were entered with up most care, in hope that the cache would soon be near.
The children were at home with their XBOX 360. While the cousins were at their home playing one too. And mama was driving herself to the mall, with plans to shop and returning the sweater too small.
While back in the woods there was such a commotion, the cacher was wishing for some magic potion. He had searched under rocks and leaves and a boulder, for the cache owner hides were getting much bolder.
He kept reminding himself, “this is a GAME”. No longer were the ammo boxes hides just lame. He has gotten creative, cleaver and smart, "I will go back to the parking lot for a fresh start.”
The thought of the forums, the threads and the flames, started recalling avatars and yelling out names. Oh Kascadekat, oh Tumbleweed2, oh DAGRMM and Mr. Hubcap, oh Windvista, oh Desertlark, oh Cougneff, and RV Roamers. From the top the cliff, to the valley below, if we were team caching I would have found it long ago.
Then the alarm on the GPS receiver started to chime, one hundred feet to the cache, “I’ll get it this time.” He went right to the spot and started to work, Moving branches and leaves and kicking up dirt.
And finally looking behind a lone stump, He spotted the ammo box and sat on his rump. He swapped Travel bugs and signed the log and for good measure he added a stuff toy dog.
He sprang to his feet, and with a quick spray of deet, for the bugs and ticks were starting to eat. He thought… “This is fun” as he replaced the box lid, “Next time I will bring the wife and my kids.”
He was heard to say as he hiked out of sight, “Happy Caching and stuff to all, and to all Good night!”