dirty #50! velocachemonterey remains shifty

So called Gentlemen and Ladies,




Cemetery benches are not just for creeps or mourners. You can loiter there, too!



If you were sitting there, quietly, enjoying the rarefied atmosphere, your eye might be drawn to the shrubbery across the street below and between the 2 Eucalyptus. If that were the case, I wouldn't blame you.





I suppose you're going to have to play it by ear. Right here and now.

45 are PM zoned

In your face!




I's out, you know- riding, enjoying the moooonlight when I won this one. Fort Ord was feeling...off. I headed out to the Caprock via fireroad only(?!?) and back out the same way.

0% trails.

For whatever reason, it was skeery. So I kicked myself on back into town headed home, before (stopped in the graveyard for a, um, breather) remembering the velocache.
Renewed purpose!
I headed towards the wharf for orientation. Kooks on bikes. Figuring this had to be up in the Presidio, I poked my way in that direction...


Stopped here for phone checking, all unawares...

because I wanted to get a photo of the effed up "bike route" that I'd just tried, thinking that A) I could maybe get into the Presidio thataway and B) there's no way it would just be a way to kill off cyclists by routing them directly into traffic on a blind corner. My bads.

On heading up the hill from the parking structure, I spied 2 cyclists (by their blinky lights) whom I then followed to the sneaky bridge/walkway that I'd been on only 1 time before and axed them ?s about statues of Junipero Serras and boats. They weren't innerested in talking to me or having me around at all, and I was left to wonder if I was drunker than I thought or possibly just a creep. But, upon reflection they were simply dicks.

"Just because we both ride bikes doesn't mean we're friends" indeed.

Anyhow, I found the statue opposite the Civil War reenactor camp, and was forced to search the (several) likely trees with out lights due to paranoia. Finally, in the last tree I gave up and used my light (I had become angry and frustrated by this point) only to spy a (some would say purposefully) obscure tube with a familiar word printed on it.



It was a picture of the very walkway over which I'd just ridden. It had some inscrutable words upon it to the effect that I'd been duped. RErouted. Excellently sneaky. Well played. I have had several reasons to doubt this hider's clues/grasp of reality/dedication...but never again. This cache was awesome.


Sure enough, in the likeliest place, there was the actual goods. All in all a very tubular cache. A tallboybottle of Spirit of the Hawk, a steel water bottle (used and still containing the dregs of it's last load- classy!), a long slim box of a chocolate rose, and an autographed! rolled up copy of "Poetry and other crimes...by: SEAMAS(sic?) NAVARRO. (All poems, stories, and tribal art COPYRIGHT 2000-2011, by SEAMAS (sic?) NAVARRO- So don't even THINK of fucking with this shit! All rights reserved)"

Whoa. An example?

GOD IS LOVE
Who can speak of what the wind has heard?
Has snached (sic) away greedly (sic)?
Or the rights and wrongs
the merry brook saw on its (sic) musical journey
to the sea?
Is the cold comforted
by the warmth?
Is that why its (sic) such a thief?
And does the heat heal
from its (sic) sweat,
at the sigh of the suns (sic)
last wink?

If everythings (sic) connected
through threads of LOVE
and yes, even pain,
and from these strands we all mature
then hope is all the same.
It hurts to know that hurt will come, but think, how we hurt GOD too,
when we hate in spite of HIS LOVE
and yet, HE LOVES us true.
If GOD is LOVE and LOVE is patient,
and LOVES us,
for all our faults, then strive to forgive
as HE LOVES
in the face,
of when all go's (sic) wrong: LOVE UNDER FIRE.
COPYRIGHT 2011
SEAMAS (sic?) NAVARRO



I opened the Eye of the Hawk's Spirit of the Hawk 40oz. like a OG on my pedal, and posted up hella hard under the bridge downtown to drink the chewy brew whilst watching traffic roll by and reading bad poetry like a troll. Or maybe SEAMAS NAVARRO.



Whatever. Don't even THINK of fucking with this shit.

What is the answer to everything?

42.

I am so happy about several stories involving this number, on account of they are funny. My favorite involves Cary _______, and includes the phrase "How old are you?" being uttered by the father of a 21 year old girl. Classy. Not least because Cary's standard ending to any question involving his employment was "...and I do body work."

So, you see.




In any event, this eponymous cache, was the 1st effort by Criffer (I imagine a cane, and a blue bandana, and some intricate hand signals), and it was a good one. I was worried due to all the testicle references in the deployment post that this would be some freaky porno cache.


You wouldn't have loved it on account of there was climbing.




A fair amount of climbing.



Extra points for being sealed with scotch tape.




Some of the booty. I promptly lost these on the climb up through Pebble via some trails. Think how stoked some random pedestrian who doesn't deserve them will be! At least I didn't lose the beer.

This is a BIG TIME haunt of bums and hobos. Just down the street was a hobo bike junkyard a few years ago. Dude was camping amongst at least 9 different bum bikes.

Today as I ate my tasty snacks in the shade, that white sedan pulled up to disgorge a stocking capped bundle of angst. The guy popped out of the passenger seat and dramatically dropped his head into his arms on the roof of the adjacent beater hatchback. After 15 seconds or so, he showily came around and pulled a battery out of the sedan trunk and set to work. His car eventually started, and he pulled out behind the sedan laying on his horn. He honked at that gal for a solid minute and a half while waiting to enter traffic. Minute and a half at least. Wow.

I couldn't have asked for a better show.

rounding the corner into cougardom...#41 THIS IS NOT TRASH!

Slow roll it.




Not only do you hafta...move it to the Left, you gotta move it to the Right. You gotta move it allll night. Lissen:


This is NOT trash! It's velocache. Offer not available to employees.








If these types of characters seem familiar, you know where you can go.






This place! Head inside and ask around. Maybe pick up a patch-kit or a custom titanium off-road touring bike. You owe it to yourself.




These 2 lovely matching! Centurions are For Sale. Perfect for him and him. They are cheap and easy, but they look realllllll sophisticated.


Stroke it with the motion.

#40 - Shakedown at the Hantavirus Hotel

Cache 40 is all downhill from here

Friday I had to get out of town and get out of town fast. But there is always time to plant some valuable treasure for your fellow mang.

Here's looking up your old area code

Looking an escape route from going in that shitty building

Go on....stick your hand up there

Gross Profit

(all pictures courtesy of a terrible cell phone camera)

35 found. With so much drama in the MBC...

it's kinna hard bein' velo cacheing, see:

Gs up Ho's down.

Laid back. With the mini golf course on my mind, due to the labeling of this hidden cache, I very nearly rode on by on my way to the coastal dereliction near there. But as I rode by, I decided to check. What the heck? (I don't get the "dwarf on golf" which doesn't refer to the mini golf joint. Red herring?)

Sure enough.

I had my headlight on my helmet by default. Good thing, because there was NO WAY I was reaching into some mystery crevice in this location without seeing what was waiting there...

Evidence of highbrow affairs...



"They Made Me"...I'm sure that they did. This is a world apart, of which I freely admit I had no knowledge. And I will go back to not thinking of this place after this post.




Fargo today. I needed the gears on account of my busted ribs.




Sexy High Life tallboy, 2 sweet tallboy coozies, classy copper bottomed camp cookware (including the clamped together and not-well-cleaned utensil set plus...count 'em...2(!) red(!) plastic camp cups.) all lovingly packaged with "Go to HeLL!!!" written thereon.

Makes me feel kind warm and dark and furry.















Like an asshole?

YO! any velocache is a Good velocache, so I win.

Velocache #29 a.k.a "might as well stop in for a drink or four"

Velocache #29 a.k.a "might as well stop in for a drink or four", originally uploaded by Reverend Dick.

You know the story. Supposedly Robert Louis Stevenson was trying to hook up with some broad in the 1870s, stalked her here, and soaked up enough local culture to inspire Treasure Island, etc.

Rich white folks have to get they exorbitantly expensive private school namesakes someplace.

Anyhow, right next door slumps an exorbitantly degenerate cantina. It is a shame to think that it would not have been around to inspire our author, reeking as it does (and would have) of musty spirits and skulduggery, so let's just pretend that it was around then, and acknowledge that piratical adventures owe it a hearty yo ho. Dirty Dan will almost assuredly be in there. Just look for the bespectacled white bearded gent mumbling and swaying. Allow him to buy you a drink. (Perhaps follow you to your next watering hole, assuming you make the mistake of telling him where you're headed.)

While you're in there, a trip to the men's room and a gander out the window might reveal...the traysure. You know, if you crook your neck just right.

Get it before some wino; it's a good one.

#27 Schroedinger's Cache

Velocache #27, originally uploaded by Reverend Dick.

This cache is both there and not there, depending on how well you know your local singletrack.

The question you gotta ask yerself is "Do I feel lucky?".

Well, punk, do ya?

Don't step in whatever this is..


Rolling down to the cache, I stopped here and looked back at this shithouse. For perspective.

From that spot, you can also see this:


And, looking East:
What's in those trees?





On the right track...


...but way too far.

_____ #22

The Catch being that you gotta get it to get it. Get it?


If everone is finished being upset by 21, we can move forward.*





You're arty, right? Then you should know about this joint.


Stand here, and turn around.


Do not sleep on this one. There is a particularly nice arty piece in there. Which is fragile.

*If not, well.