eCache

The Saga of Finding a Geocache

aka when you have found too many caches . . . or what happens when you age . . .

A South Jersey cacher, Lavarock, has hidden a geocache at Thompson’s Beach. For some reason, I have not found this cache despite having found everything else in the area. I sought to remedy that.

I have been to Thompson’s many times. It’s one of those wonderful places in the area. The beach is along the Delaware Bay, just south of East Point and above Moore’s Beach. Like Moore’s, no one lives at Thompson’s Beach any longer. The state came through many years ago and told everyone who lived there that they had to go. The access to the town was via a single road through the marsh. The road washed out regularly and the state decided not to maintain it any longer. The homes were razed and a barrier placed on the road a mile out.

This created a wonderful spot then. Few people are willing to traipse through the muck for a mile to get to the beach. There is a ruin left to see (a chimney) and a lot of concrete and bricks from what was once there. The moorings, long left abandoned, are a reminder of the town, but the rough surf makes it unattractive to dock.

And on top of all this, the beach is used occasionally by fine young ladies who are looking for a place to sunbathe au naturale. It’s always nice when a wonderful view is improved.

Anyhow, placing a cache out here is a good idea and I looked forward to seeking it.

I wanted to approach this differently, however. Rather than time the tides for access to the road, I decided to paddle out here. It appears that this is the rest of the “town” as the paths seem far too straight to be natural. Despite seeking a map of the area from when it was inhabited, I have found none.

Earlier this week I drove down prepared to do just that. There is an observation deck that was built where the road is closed. It provides a splendid view of the area. Tom had a cache here and I think someone else did later too. There is also a launch, but when I was here this week, the tide was out and I would have had to trudge through a 100 feet or so of mud to get to the water. I’ve done far worse (I found this prior to Ski who describes the experience pretty well, although I thought I pushed my kayak about half the journey.), but was not up for the muck and decided to pass until later.

Later was today. The week has been busy as we are replacing every window in our house, installing a new front door, putting hardwood in a couple rooms, and purchasing a new stove. But looking at the tide tables showed that this morning there would be water at the launch. I drove down first thing.

All was well and I launched to a wonderful paddle. It was the six o’clock hour and slightly overcast. There were no bugs and no heat. It was perfect. I had a leisurely paddle through the marsh. Piping plovers frolicked about as several osprey maintained guard as I came through. How absolutely perfect this stream is. There are many ins and outs to explore, but I was focused on going out to the bay and planned to investigate more fully on the way back in.

After an initial bend away from the launch, it’s a pretty straight shot out. There are two or three osprey nests and plenty of shorebirds about. As I told Gert when I arrived home, I do not believe there is a prettier place in all of South Jersey than this stretch (other than any place my bride is). I have lived here all but a couple years I played in Boston after college, so take that statement however you like.

Peaceful.

I like to just float along listening to the birds chirp. The osprey called out warnings as I paddled through, but we all got along just fine.

Lapping.

The plovers gave way to gulls as I approached the bay. In the distance I could see white caps. Uh oh . . .

I am not the world’s greatest paddler, as Dan will tell you. What I was about to encounter was the most treacherous paddling conditions I have been in yet.

As I reached the bay, the water began to get rough. There were swells and white caps, but I was doing pretty well negotiating all this. I needed to turn down the coast to get to the cache. In hindsight, I turned too sharply and remained too close to shore. The waves threw me in to shore and I decided that before the kayak busted up on all the concrete that lined the shoreline, I should get out here. Out I did and I hoisted the kayak up onto the grassy knoll. It was exactly high tide at this point. I took a quick look at the GPS to find out I was nearly a mile away from the cache. Sigh . . . all this way to not be any closer than the observation deck. Well, it wasn’t quite what I had planned, but I began the hike down the beach.

That is how one would think it went, yes? There is no beach on the north end of Thompson’s. The shoreline is littered with concrete from the houses of yesterday and beach grasses have filled in the openness. I muddled through as the bay continued to pound the the concrete near me. At one point there was no concrete to walk on and I forged on through the reeds much as many caches in the region require.

After the first bend in the coast, I came to some sand. Thus began the cemetery of horseshoe crabs. Dear reader, this area of the country is very important to the seabirds who migrate from Canada to South America annually as well as the those who remain here for the warmer months. The birds fly from South America to the beaches along here to feed on the eggs of the horseshoe crabs who come in from the bay to lay their eggs. A few years back I was part of a team that tagged hundreds of shorebirds we caught with rocket-blasted nets down a few towns at Reeds Beach. One does not lack for wildlife here.

As I picked my way along the coast, I began to have a thought about this cache. Was this cache the one . . . OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My little rubber-soled booties were nothing to be bushwhacking (beachwhacking?) in. My left foot stepped on something that went right through the sole into my foot. I do not know what it was, but it drew a lot of blood. And it hurt. It really hurt. But I persevered and I got back to my thoughts. Was this cache my cache?

A few years ago I was working on a very involved multi cache for others to seek. I had placed a container down here to see how it would hold up to the elements. When I couldn’t get my caches approved, I decided to farm out what I had placed around. It seems to me that I had provided Rob the coordinates to this. Was I going through all this for my own cache?

I came to the road and shimmied along behind the beach. Had there been any sunbathers, this is where they would have been. Too early, too rough, and too overcast for the ladies today. Then the chimney and then some pilings. Ah good. The coordinates were much further down the beach. This would be a unique cache after all.

I continued down and came to the area and then realized that I was seeking my own cache. Yes, I had walked this far down to place my container. And there it was. Perfect coordinates.

The logbook Rob placed in this did not permit me to relate my experience. My foot was aching at this point. I took out my camera only to find out the dry bag was not secured well and it is non-functioning. I still had a mile hike back on a rocky coast to get to the kayak to paddle in the rough surf. Sigh . . .

I signed in and left a note to come here to read the saga.

This is a nice area. There was a fishing boat or two off in the distance. There was not a soul in site at all. I suspect the closest person to me out here was at least two miles back. There’s a house somewhere along Thompson’s Beach Road before Glade.

Peaceful. I love caches like this. No wonder I had placed this container way back when.

Looking at the cache page I see some nice comments.

Thanks for the fun trek!
Evil Chicken

. . . the stalker abandons his family in the middle of the salt marsh and scrambles in sneakers and jeans through knee-deep foul-smelling muck, stepping over dead horseshoe crabs, live fiddler crabs, turtle shells and mysterious PVC pipes. Then, the left-behinds give me soda. Amazing what you get to see when hunting Lavarock caches.
karrooite

Now THIS was fun! But I’m too tired now to elaborate so I’ll say thanks for a really fun cache and let the pictures speak for themselves!
Gypsee

this one really got me good today. I parked in the lot and hiked the nice dry trail all the way to the beach and made my way down the shoreline to the well placed cache ok. The way back was a different story…
The tide came in, and I had to hike the 1 mile back to the car in knee deep water all the way. The water nearest the gate was the worse, probably about 2 1/2 ft deep just 45 minutes after it was dry. That was the fastest I’ve ever seen water rise down here.
Listen to the warnings on this one folks… Check the tides before you go or you just may have to go for a swim. See pictures…

Excellent cache location by the way!
Ski

. . . that is the best cache location! Thanks for showing us!
C.C.Cachers

The tide had receded a bit when I began heading back. My foot felt better when I walked, believe it or not. I think the movement keeps the pain down. It still hurt, but it was not as pronounced. I kept thinking, “All this way, all this work, and I can’t even consider this a find.” (lol) I passed back through the horseshoe crab cemetery, climbed back over the concrete, and now with the water a little lower, had a more pleasant path to use for a good bit of the hike back over the reeds and beach grass.

I’ve said it before, success lifts the spirit, and this was definitely true. The hike back was not as treacherous as the hike out. I loaded up the kayak and carefully stumbled over the concrete at the shoreline. The waves were still banging in and I didn’t want to fall and damage Lucy. Eventually I got in and shoved off. I had to paddle quickly to prevent from being thrown against the concrete.

It was still rough in the bay. I was tossed about and the white caps began crashing across the bow. The bay didn’t seem to want me there. After a bit, I obliged and began riding the swells in. It wasn’t long before I was back to the tranquility this trek had begun. I was exhausted from the intense paddling I had been involved in for the previous 10-15 minutes. I wanted to just sit and float, but I realized that even though I seemed to be moving in, the tide was going out so I had to keep at it and rest on the thrusts.

Then there was peacefulness. The osprey were still there as were the piping plovers. Terns were numerous and I had one interesting duck who kept fishing right off the port side all the way in. I thought him a loon at first, but he eventually showed himself. Apparently, he hadn’t caught any fish yet. Poor fellow.

As I came to the bend, I realized I was wiped out. The sun was coming out and that brought the greenheads. That or the blood on my leg. Soon enough I was back at the launch. I downed my water and rested at the observation deck. It still shows a beautiful site, but it is not the whole story. One needs to paddle out to fully appreciate the area. I am happy I did.

Also blogged on this date . . .

• National League Baseball #2 - 2007
• Spent - 2005
• Totem Pole - 2002