Balmy is not a word usually associated with the weather on Halloween, yet hear we are on the 31st October and I’m walking through Devilla forest near Kincardine (on Forth) in my wafer thin, blue checked, Columbia walking shirt with my softshell tucked safely away in the bottom of my pack. Short sleeves this time of year? Shouldn’t happen, it’s unnatural! Mind you so is geocaching but The Fatdog and I are busy following the whim of our prima donna GPS as it swings its needle dramatically this way, then that, pretending it has some idea in which direction we should be travelling. I threaten to put in back in the pack inside FD’s food supply. That seems to work and it grudgingly stops faffing about and points with gun dog certainty towards a spot near a boundary wall at the edge of the trees.
Once again we find ourselves avoiding the hills. It’s becoming embarrassing. My available walking days are just not lining up with good weather windows (not that there’s been many of those) and the whole situation is exacerbated because Cap’n Jack and I can’t sort out a suitable date for our regular monthly hillwalking fiasco. We managed to miss October altogether and there doesn’t look like much chance of an opportunity for another couple of weeks. Hopefully we won’t be tempted into attempting one of our more “cram as much in as possible” walks, like we did at this time last year.
But returning to today’s dog walk – we are in Devilla Forest chasing a geocache. Strictly speaking we’re looking for 2 geocaches – well we were – until I discovered that some “eejit” had forgotten to download the second set of coordinates into the GPS! So one geocache it was and this particular wee box had been hidden near the site of what is known as the Standard Stone where it is said that standards were raised during the Battle of Bordie in the 11C.
With our less than trustworthy GPS leading the way The Fatdog and I stomp across the stone heading in the general direction of the edge of the forest. The GPS beeps and I groan. I hate looking for wee boxes in long grass. Collapsed rubble from the wall suggests a hiding place but sadly there is no sign of recent disturbance. The Fatdog lies down waiting patiently while I crash about in the undergrowth muttering darkly. Ten minutes go by and still no sign of the cache. Disgusted, I reach down to pick up the pack and that’s when I stand on the box.
It was where it was supposed to be so I can’t complain. I think the near mandatory out of place stone had been moved and was thus not covering the entrance to the boxes hidey hole. I had lifted this stone at least 3 times but stupidly had not thought to look to either side. Oh well, another lesson learned.
Here’s a few photos…