OVEREDGE - Maphead - page 141

But other geocachers thrive on the density. They won't rest until there's a pill bottle Vel-
croed to the metal skirt at the base of every parking lot lamppost and a magnetic key con-
tainer beneath every picnic table. The more the merrier! I think this is a telltale clue to
what's driving geocaching's sudden popularity: the urge to fill an otherwise overexplained
universe with mysterious secrets. Children intuitively believe that our gray everyday exist-
encemustconcealbeneathitssurfaceanotherworld,brighterandmoreinteresting,likethe
one in story topics. But then they get older and gradually come to terms with the sad truth
that there is no hidden world—no Confederate gold behind the bricks of the old fireplace,
no genie in any of the glass bottles washed up by the surf. Geocaching restores those lost
treasures by the thousands. It's a way for acolytes to make the world feel a little more ma-
gical, one camouflaged Altoids tin at a time.
The Harry Potter topics have sold six jillion copies by trading on this same fantasy: a
secret world known only to a small coterie of insiders. In J. K. Rowling's series, just as
in geocaching, seemingly ordinary places and objects conceal numinous secrets: a blank
brick wall might open onto a magical secret alley, an old boot or a newspaper might be
an enchanted teleportation device in disguise. It's no surprise, then, that geocachers have
borrowed the word “Muggle”—a clueless nonwizard in Harry Potter's world—to apply
to clueless nongeocachers. This reflects both the satisfaction cachers take in their secret
knowledge(theycanwalkalongabusytrailwiththeconfidence thattheyknowsomething
about that particular tree stump that nobody else knows ) and the very real threat posed by
outsiders. Cachers will go to great lengths to avoid being spotted while hiding or retriev-
ing a geocache, because all it takes is one too-curious onlooker and the secret spot might
be “Muggled” (plundered) and thereby ruined for future seekers. So there's a clandestine
thrilltothesport,almostreminiscentofColdWar-eradoubleespionage:lotsoflong,chilly
waitsonparkbenchespretendingtofeedbirdsandcautiousdrive-bysofprearranged“dead
drops” on lonely country roads.
Geocachers develop their own tricks to avoid suspicious looks (followed, quite often,
by 911 calls—police interrogations are a rite of passage for prolific cachers * ) as they lurk
in shrubbery and poke around utility boxes. Some swear by a fluorescent orange vest and
clipboard: you can apparently act as fishy as you like as long as you're dressed like a city
employee. Others, like David Carriere of Ottawa (geocaching handle “Zartimus”) go cach-
ing only by dead of night. “It was the only time I could find to go, with the kids and all,”
he tells me, but I'm not entirely convinced by his innocent explanation. Zartimus, you see,
is best knownin caching circles forhis eccentric uniform: a Batman cape and cowl accom-
panied by a ten-foot bullwhip. If Muggles approach, he says, “I kill the light by pulling the
capeovermyheadandIjustsitthere.Youcan'tseemewiththatthingonbecausethecape
breaks up the shape.” I prefer daylight caching (and don't own a single superhero vigilante
costume), so I develop a strategy of talking loudly into my GPS receiver as if it were a cell