Hidden in plain sight
Ode to caches and exploration
I’ve been grappling with a few ideas recently, trying to promote them from my Keep notebook to something publishable. These thoughts spring at me at the most inconvenient moments. Whilst many people have the ability, even desperation, to put pen to paper immediately, I let mine gestate. Often for months. This is what happened when I punched “power of play in exploration” into my phone earlier this year.
The idea came to me whilst partaking in one of my favourite activities: Geocaching. For those unfamiliar, at its core Geocaching is a global scavenger hunt. Anyone can hide a “Cache” and a small log book. You then mark it on the online map and see if others can find it.
I have no idea how I stumbled across this pasttime, but it has, in some ways, taken over my life whenever I leave the house. Anytime I’m in a new place I open the app as a matter of habit. I don’t make my poor family detour too far for one, but I have used it when finding myself with a spare 30 minutes in some place. We stopped at a level crossing earlier this week whilst in the car and I opened up the app. There was one 20 metres behind me on the path. My wife convinced me it wasn’t worth the hassle, but I was close to dashing to get it.
My initial excuse to sign-up was to give the kids something to do on hikes. But my oldest thinks it’s sad and the younger ones don’t have the patience beyond a few seconds of hunting. They do still have some joy whenever we do find one together however, insisting on writing the log.
I’ve found caches hidden inside an old phone hanging off a tree as well as one near the Bronte Parsonage. I was in Milan waiting for a train and found one there as well. Most importantly, I also scribed my name in Britain’s highest Cache at the top of Ben Nevis.
And so, there I was one day, in some place off the beaten track hunting a cache when this “power of play” thought emerged. “What a great idea,” I told myself. “There are so many ways I’ve seen the world turn into a playground for exploration”.
So I took down some more ideas. Pokemon Go. This Street Wars game which fascinated me a few years ago as well. (Essentially, someone provided you with the details of another player and it is up to you to “assassinate” them with a water pistol. This led to some incredible stories about these "kills". Looking back and writing that down with my parent head on rings all sorts of alarm bells).
These ideas swirled around my bonce, so I began to write.
And then I began to stutter and stumble. And get frustrated as this idea was not coming together in the way I hoped. It wasn’t linking or connecting. If an idea works for me I find my flow quickly. That didn't happen this time. Using a screen to hunt a digital creature, hiding in a stairwell waiting to soak some unsuspecting urban dweller. This was play. But it was not exploration.
So I did what many people do when frustrated with life. I walked.
On the hunt for exploration
I had some stern words with myself on that walk. I’ve mentioned in the past how fortunate we are to live where we do. It is the sort of place where you can align your thoughts. This is what happened halfway around the route.
It started with defining the damn thing. Exploration is finding something significant that a small minority, if anyone, has seen. It covers grand ideas of past explorers discovering cultures and countries as well as the immense value in exploring the world in front of you.
I read a wonderful book recently by Alastair Humphreys called Local. I won’t go into the details, but he spent a year exploring Ordinance Survey Grid Squares close to his home. Part of the mystery is trying to work out where he actually lives (I think I’ve nailed it down), but it is a real beacon of exploring what’s on your own doorstep.
Which brings me back to my power of play in exploration idea. The answer to why I couldn’t make the connections was hidden in plain sight. Literally.
That’s what I enjoyed about Geocaching. The fact that it scratched that itch of exploration. Finding something hidden in plain sight that a minority of people had seen was where my mind was trying to take me. Not how the power of play comes into it.
It’s the same reason I also stop and read those signs that talk about the history of a place (again annoying my family in the process). Or why I am fascinated about the history of street names. Or how it came to be that a sculpture or statue landed in a specific spot. Or what the background story is on a scene I see at York Dungeons (went at the weekend, that's a story for another time).
The answer to my quandary: Hidden in plain sight all along. I went full circle.
Which brings me to…
Substack (in a completely coincidental manner)
I’ve now been on this platform for six weeks. Rick Barooah wrote a note recently about seeing so many people get to the five-week mark and abandon ship. I imagine a lot of this will be because subscriber numbers may not increase at a quick enough rate. Or that content is a little more nuanced than on Big Social (a great phrase I stole from Hamish McKenzie’s post on Substack's future).
I spent years on Big Social, scrolling through dozens of pieces of content an hour. It wasn't healthy for me. I wanted to find somewhere I didn't feel my mind was rotting as I consumed more unmemorable content. And then I started looking at Substack properly and, low and behold, I found that place. Itch scratched.
That post from McKenzie is an important read. Yes, Substack will continue to introduce more features. Yes it might be steering a little more towards social. But as long as good stories (not good content to suit an algorithm) is rewarded, then all will be well. And those writing with authenticity and conviction will remain here... Hidden in plain sight.