-
Difficulty:
-
-
Terrain:
-
Size: 
(regular)
Please note Use of geocaching.com services is subject to the terms and conditions
in our disclaimer.
You seek an ammo box which is not at the posted coords. Read the tale below to locate where it might be found. Please leave the stamp in the cache. It is not a trade item.
The Hopi Indian Tribe will tell you that Kokopelli is a fertility deity, depicted as a humpbacked flute player, with feathers on his head, who presides over both childbirth and agriculture. He is also a trickster god and represents the spirit of music. Yeah, right. As Paul Harvey would say, let's hear the rest of the story.
Many generations ago, one of my ancestors, Uncle Cotapell Riffster, fled the northeast, from presumably trumped up charges, alleging that he had stolen watermelons. Now, I know Uncle Cotapell loved him some watermelon, and he did occasionally borrow stuff without necessarily asking permission, so I suppose it could be possible. Maybe?
Family lore says Uncle Cotapell wandered westward, eventually ending up in the Southwest United States, mooching off of the indigenous people, traipsing from village to village, playing his oboe in exchange for his supper, and sweet talking the lady folk, causing some angst with their husbands and brothers. It is rumored that he fathered some illegitimate children, which, he being no less randy than any average Scot, is not too hard to believe. It was only his musical skills, and the exotic melodies from his oboe that kept him from being set upon. That, and the Indian headdress he wore, which he probably stole from some unlucky tribal elder.
Unfortunately, being a Riffster, Uncle Cotapell did not recognize a good thing, and after a while, resumed his thievery, stealing melons from the Hopi farm lands. Being dumber than a bag of hammers, Uncle Cotapell figured if the Hopi could not see the melons he stole, they would not know he stole them. He would slip the melons into a backpack which he wore under his shirt, giving him the appearance of a hunchback. Uncle Cotapell would munch on the melons as he wandered about, spitting out the seeds as he went, which oft resulted in melon plants popping up in unexpected places. The Hopi people, who were much brighter than him, realized what shenanigans he was up to, and drove him from their lands. Over the years, he became somewhat of a legend, and when crops would grow unexpectedly, or when unmarried daughters would show up pregnant, folks would attribute these incidents to Cotapell. His name evolved over the generations from Cotapell to Kokopelli, and his oboe became a flute, but these small changes do not change the basic truth of the tale.
Having worn out his welcome in the southwest, Uncle Cotapell moved to Central Florida, where he resumed his bad habits, swiping melons from farms and virtue from maidens. He would leave his camp along the Econlockhatchee River, paddling from farm to farm in his kayak, living a life of debauchery. The locals had their fill of Uncle Cotapell, and assembled a posse to hunt him down. The leader of the posse, Rev. Vinny Flatouts, gave this description of the chase:
"It was a muggy Autumn day, the year of our Lord, 1891, when our posse spotted the Scottish scoundrel. We had rested our horses near a strange structure, with a sturdy roof, but no walls, and took advantage of the tables within, to break our fast.
It was then that we spotted the scalawag! One of my men glanced across a field to our northwest, and saw something glinting in the early morning sunlight about one hundred and fifty yards away, so I sent him to scout. It turns our he had spotted an odd white sign, declaring "LE52". Whatever could that mean? As he neared the sign, he saw the reprobate Scot lurking about, and shouted for the rest of us. The chase was on! We feared that the field might be pockmarked with gopher holes, making it too dangerous for our horses, so we left them corralled at the structure and pursued on foot.
We saw that the miscreant had at least one melon in his pack, judging from the prominent hump on his back, and we suspect that he had stolen it from the nearby Yarborough Farm. He also had a strange metal box in his hand. We believe that this is what he stored his personal treasures in. We charged the ne'er-do-well, and he ran about 120 yards, on a bearing of about 200 degrees magnetic, down a well trod path. The trail bent southeast, and we continued to pursue about 135 yards, on a bearing of 133 degrees, to another odd sign, this one reading "LE53".
The rapscallion turned right at this sign, entering upon a raised wooden walkway, going 24 paces, (48 steps), to a seating area, at which point he jumped to the swampy ground below. After just a few seconds, he climbed back up and continued fleeing southwest, to the river, where he hopped into a bizarre plastic vessel, paddling away.
We noticed that the dastard did not have his metal box when he climbed back onto the elevated walkway. We searched the area, but could not find the box".
The posted coordinates will bring you to the aforementioned "LE52" sign.
Hopefully, geocachers are better at finding metal boxes than posse members are.
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
Pyvzo Qbja, Ybbx Hc