Tragedy on the Trail

It was like a scene from an old war movie. Two soldiers, best friends who had been through countless adventures and challenges together, lying injured on the trail next to each other. One in much worse shape than the other. Realizing his friend may not make it back alive, his mind begins replaying all the great times they've had together over the years...

I guess it was bound to happen. After nearly five years and just over 1,000 cache finds, a particularly steep trail descent got the best of us. A trail so steep, I had to walk my bike down it. Suddenly, I hit a soft patch of dirt, lost my footing, and the three of us; bike, GPSr, and I finished off the descent rolling head over heels until we hit bottom.

I stood up slowly, glad to only have a bruised back side and ego. I felt even more relieved as I picked up and inspected my bike and found no major damage. But then I saw a sight that made my heart sink. My trusty Garmin GPS 12 lay helpless and motionless on the ground. I barely recognized it, with it's inner workings exposed in the hot, noon-day sun:


Was this the end of my trusted friend and companion? Had it lead me to it's last cache? I picked it up gingerly, trying my best to minimize any possible further damage. And as I glanced at the screen, I couldn't believe my eyes. Even in it's dreadful state, it was still showing me the way to the next cache, still tracking our position, as if nothing was wrong or any different than any previous outing.

Now this little guy has been dropped, kicked, rained on, and endured it's fair share of tough situations, but never anything like this. Incredibly, I was able to hold the pieces together long enough to find 3 more caches that afternoon and then get it home, apply a little epoxy, and reattach the case. Since then, it's been working as good as the day I got it. Will it see me through my next 1,000 finds? Only time will tell...

Cache On!