Cache Me Outside

A few weekends ago, I was tromping through the deep woods in northern New Jersey, on the hunt, carefully scanning rocks, stumps and dead leaves upon dead leaves. Suddenly, while examining the base of a boulder, my eyes hit upon exactly what I’d been looking for—a severed foot.

I opened up the small, 35mm film canister attached to it, stuffed the (plastic) foot inside, signed a small strip of paper to prove I was there, closed it up and put the foot back in its original location. If you’re wondering what exactly is going on, let me explain: In the past year, I’ve become one of the millions of people who take part in an outdoor activity called geocaching.

I first got into geocaching as the result of a New Year’s resolution, probably the most successful one I’ve ever made. Going into 2024, I decided I wanted to start a hobby that would take me outside more frequently, particularly to the kinds of places I don’t usually go. I’m a full-time remote worker, which can easily turn into “homebody” or “hermit” if you’re not careful. And while I like walking around my neighborhood, taking the same old routes sometimes gets a little boring.

I’d heard a while back about geocaching, and it sounded right up my alley. Using an app that relies on GPS, a user locates a physical container known as a “cache”—sometimes as small as a capsule hanging on a tree in the woods—and signs a physical “log” as proof that they’ve indeed found it. Some larger caches have inexpensive swag to trade—maybe stickers or a friendship bracelet, for example—as a way to forge connections with fellow geocachers. While geocaching is largely a solitary activity (except when I force my husband or my friends to indulge me on a mission), you’re part of a very large—indeed, global—community when you cache. In fact, there are an estimated 6 million geocachers around the world.

Per my New Year’s resolution, geocaching has gotten me outside and to new places. But I stick with it because it also provides a lot of benefits I didn’t foresee.

For starters, it’s a great workout for the mind. I love to do all kinds of puzzles, and geocaching really taps into my interest in problem-solving. In fact, some caches even require that you actually solve a puzzle before you receive the coordinates needed to find the physical container you’re looking for. I’ve had to solve online jigsaw puzzles, cryptograms and trivia questions to locate caches; I’ve even used the Dewey Decimal System to find a cache inside a branch of the New York Public Library. So as someone who often tends toward the cerebral rather than the athletic, I find that geocaching checks both those boxes.

Also, while I love a good aimless wander, for me, motivation comes when I have a goal in mind. Geocaches are satisfying to find—I love that little rush I get when I find the small Tupperware I’m looking for in the forest. I’ve planned half-day hikes based on the geocaches I can find; and before I know it, I get a great workout without even thinking about it.

Geocaching has also reminded me that there’s so much unexpected wonder all around us—even in the most mundane things. It turns out that caches are everywhere—in fact, there are more than 3 million out there. You can find them on all seven continents. They’re not just hidden in the woods, but also under lamp post skirts in mall parking lots, in magnetic key holders stuck to stop signs and guardrails, and in tons of other unexpected places.

I’ve found one behind a local pizza place and on a dock overlooking the St. Lawrence River in Quebec. There have been caches on a desert hiking trail near Sedona, Arizona; a community garden in lower Manhattan; a dumpster in downtown Montreal. There was even one embedded in a tombstone, a fitting tribute to a dearly departed fellow geocacher. Geocaching is like a worldwide treasure hunt that you can do at any time. And indeed, the treasures are all around you—if you’re just willing to look.

I’ve failed at New Year’s resolutions countless times before—and becoming a geocaching fan has helped me realize why. For many of us, a resolution like “losing weight” may feel too much like a Sisyphean task that’s doomed to failure. (I’m sheepishly raising my hand…) But a resolution to “get involved in a fun outdoor activity that will get me walking all over the place” is so much easier to stick to—and may even lead to the same result as the “losing weight” resolution.

To be honest, geocaching feels like I’m gaming the New Year’s resolution system—like I’ve found some great loophole that makes resolutions easy to keep. But I guess there’s not much of a mystery to it: Like that old saw, “Do what you love, and you won’t work a day in your life,” if you make a resolution you enjoy, it’ll be a breeze to stick with.

I wish you the best of luck with your 2025 resolutions—and I hope you find some amazing treasures along the way.

Meanwhile…

What I’m watching: What if you could separate your personal life and your work life completely—to the point where your work self had no knowledge of yourself outside of the office and vice versa? That’s the idea behind the Apple TV+ series “Severance,” which I had the chance to watch a couple weeks ago.

The series’ first season focuses on Mark Scout (played by Adam Scott of “Parks and Recreation”), who used to be a history professor but now works in “macrodata refinement” for the shadowy Lumon Industries. He’s a “severed” worker, which means that he has voluntarily had an implant chip placed in his brain that fully separates who he is at work from who he is outside the office. But as information about Lumon starts seeping into his personal life, well, the mysteries become even more complicated. The season ends on something of a cliffhanger, leaving me beyond eager for the premiere of the second season on Jan. 17.

The whole idea of your work life being “severed” from your home life is pretty dystopian, but it made me think: Could there be a benefit to separating them? For his own part, Mark has chosen this path because of a personal tragedy, and I can certainly think back to times in which being able to compartmentalize my life—to shut out difficult things for a little while—would have felt like a great relief. I think this is a hallmark of a great thriller series—it not only keeps you on the edge of your seat, but it also gets you thinking about questions much bigger than the show itself.

And finally, some sad news: Alex Small, professor of physics and astronomy at California State Polytechnic University – Pomona, passed away in December after an eight-month battle with brain cancer. He was a great friend and contributor to Discourse, fervently committed to free speech and the pursuit of truth. I was fortunate enough to work with him, and two things always struck me about Alex—his professionalism and his brilliance. His thoughtfulness was always on display in his work; even though he was not a social scientist by training (as he indeed reminded readers), he showed an uncanny understanding of the way people think. Through his essays for Discourse, he demonstrated a special knack for breaking down complicated concepts, capturing the nuance of a topic while avoiding the jargon and abstruseness that many academics fall back on.

In his own Substack bio, he noted that he was “allergic to anything that smacks of lower standards,” and as an editor of his work, I couldn’t agree more. His writing and thinking were of the highest quality, and the Discourse team as well as his other colleagues will miss this marvelous mind, gone way too soon. RIP.

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