Once
the Georgia woods let go their grasp on us, we were again on our way. We
entered the next geocache coordinates into our GPS devices. Once again we were
on the interstate, and then we circled off to another four-lane highway with no
traffic. (Perhaps it was just another section of that same highway.)
The
little Mazda slowly glided down the ramp following Nuvi’s instructions to “keep
left, turn left.” Initially Mike thought the cache was on the left and pulled into
a median.
“You
can’t park here,” I said firmly.
“But
I think the cache is over there,” he said.
“Then
you’ll have to park on the shoulder and cross the road.” (Spoken like a true
mother.) It didn’t look like crossing the road would be a problem.
Still
contemplating the cache location, Mike pulled the Mazda across the road and
parked on the shoulder. The only traffic to be seen was a pick-up sitting at a
side road behind us – just sitting there. I couldn’t say what he was waiting
for – perhaps making computer entries before moving on.
We
both got out of the car – and now we knew the cache was in front of us on the
guardrail -- but before we’d moved very far, the pick-up, a utility vehicle,
pulled in. “Y’all okay?” he called to us, and then undoubtedly noticing the GPS
in Mike’s hand he added, “or are you looking for something?”
Hallie’s
complaint against geocaching leapt to mind: “And there you are in a public
place looking for something.”
We
assured him we were all right – just looking for something.
“I
saw you over there,” he said, “and then you pulled over here. And then I
noticed the New York plates and I thought you might have some trouble.” We didn’t offer lengthy explanations, like
“no, we’re hicks from Washington state traveling incognito in a rental car with
New York plates.”
“Well,
enjoy your hunt,” he added, “but don’t go through the fence to that cell tower.
The homeless camp under there and it’s not safe.”
We
thanked him and he headed on down the road, leaving us on this quiet stretch of
road by ourselves. But ere he was out of sight, another pick-up pulled in.
“Y’all
all right?” called the driver. We assured him we were.
As
embarrassing as it was to be the subject of this attention, I will always
remember Georgia as a state where people care about the welfare of others –
whether or not it’s really true. KW
P.S. I did not take a plethora of pictures on this trip. The photo muse went missing.
5 comments:
Ah, the photo muse. I think she's missing most of the time here. Too many years of "training" I fear.
"Training?" The training to not take expensive pictures? I knew I would miss pictures to illustrate the posts, but after all -- it becomes just another geocaching photo and if the scenery isn't spectacular, the pictures are useless in the long run.
The goal of this trip was to see Murray, visit Anderson, SC, for genealogy, and see Mike's mother and sister. The caches were all off the interstate and not in scenic locations.
Yup, years of having no money to have the photos developed, so why take them? Of course, now they're all on my computer, or on CD's from older computers... In other words, NOT on paper and in photo albums. Sigh.
Interesting about the helpful culture. People barely say hello here, let alone ask if you need help. I would have been embarrassed, I'm sure.
Digital technology impacts photo preservation. We just don't know what's going to happen long-term. I wonder if 100 years from now we'll actually have fewer pictures available because we make so few prints. When I worked for the museum, we were advised never to toss an image. Now I read that I should be ruthless when sorting my digital images.
I thought that people in the east were generally quite open, friendly, and helpful. I guess we should always expect that, but it does seem that especially in cities people are wary, if not downright impolite.
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