Ursus Maritimus Cedit Mare XIII
Attend, ye cachers of the south,
Where winter bites with frozen mouth.
The solstice nears, the year grows old,
And Cape Town’s sea turns sharp and cold.
Twelve years have passed since first we dared
To test the tide when sun was spared.
Ursus Maritimus, bears of snow,
Bow not to seas that freeze and flow.
Nor shall we, the GPS-bound,
With waypoints set on colder ground.
We gather where the Atlantic howls,
With towels tight and shrinking towels.
No mountain high, no bush too dense,
This cache is war ‘gainst common sense.
True grit is for the heart, not hand,
To leave warm prints upon cold sand.
The signal says: “The water’s near!”
Your nerves reply: “It’s mad to cheer!”
Yet onward, trackables in tow,
We meet the swell where brave folks go.
So post your “Will Attend” with pride,
Bring courage, mugs, and friends beside.
At nine we meet, at ten o’clock sharp,
We charge the waves and shock the heart.
Then in we go! One breath, one splash,
As reason flees in icy crash.
The world contracts to fire and shock,
Each heartbeat loud as ammo-lock.
Like polar bears, all blubber-free,
We claim our smiley from the sea.
The elements may plot and scheme,
But cachers live to chase the dream.
But wait! The tale is not yet done,
For warmth returns when cold is won.
We stumble back to shore as kin,
With chattering teeth and wider grin.
The flasks come out, the steam ascends,
Hot chocolate shared ‘tween frozen friends.
Trackables trade from hand to hand,
New journeys logged for every brand.
We sign the log with shaky scrawl,
Recount the plunge, recall the squall.
With photos snapped and stories spun,
We toast the mad things cachers’ve done.
One more year we can declare:
Ursus Maritimus Cedit Mare!
You don't actually have to swim, but come on - are your a Polar Bear or not? Just attend and cheer the swimmers on then!
See you on the Beach.