Miles and I occasionally rent a kayak from the Berkeley Marina and paddle around the bay, to catch a little sun and see what we can see. A few months ago we put together a waterproof geocache in an Otterbox, with the intention of planting it somewhere that would be accessible only by boat. Finally got around to it today. Had our eye on the dilapidated end of an old pier (at left in the image above; circle on right is where we took off from). After working our way through 1.5′ swells and oncoming wind, finally made it out there and started exploring… only to find there was not a single nook or cranny we could stick the cache in (without standing up in the boat, anyway, which wouldn’t be safe for us or for future finders).
Gave up and headed back in. Middle of the bay, something pink floated by, strangely familiar. “Miles, it’s a rose!” I shouted. We turned the boat around and chased after it. Sure enough – a single, lonely red rose on a long thorny stem, bobbing in the waves. Scooped it up and brought it home to Mommy. Amazingly, it seems to be doing OK. But what was it doing out there? A memorial to someone, tossed into the sea? A flower from dinner aboard a yacht, blown from its vase? A conciliatory gesture from a boyfriend, thrown away by an unpacified woman? So strange.
Even when caching days don’t go as planned, seems like there’s always some strange magic.