The Human Element

Thick grey clouds rolled in overhead and raindrops became more plentiful as we trudged up a gravel path toward the edge of the jungle, the mountain’s green yawn at the base awaiting our entry. Dense entanglements of vines and bundled branches offered a comfortable claustrophobia within Parque Intervales.
Inside this UNESCO-protected, small slice of Brazil’s immense assortment of rainforests is hidden a tiny treasure that holds infinite value among geocachers, who travel the globe seeking them via GPS coordinates and unique coded clues.
I wondered how I’d gotten here, a flatlander assisting the tall, grey-haired, deep voiced ‘Reindeer’ as he is identified within the geocaching community, better known as Peter from Germany. His family and I followed his lead up the rocky lane until from a quaint, unobtrusive cottage emerged a smiling man in a tan cap, as if expecting our arrival.
“Hi. You geocachers?” Greeted the lanky Brazilian who went by ‘Junior’.
“Yes.”
“I’ve guided many cachers here before,” he said, offering us instruction. “I can start you along the path.”
Junior exchanged caching stories with Reindeer whose eyes remained attached to his GPS. Mimicking the footprints stamped by our impromptu guide, we dodged falling twigs discarded by his machetes quick slashes. This was his backyard; the grass was moist and hugged our ankles.
Situated on a one-kilometer high escarpment in the Serra do Mar Mountains, Parque Intervales is home to hundreds of species of wildlife. Nearing half a kilometer along our trail, Junior pointed us in the direction of the cache, but had to turn back himself.
“It’s too cold for snakes today,” he offered his last imperturbable insight, finishing with one final slash of his machete at a branch which had aimed to greet us head on.
We marched on, sweaty, swatting at insects. Rails of light pierced vertically through the treetops between shadowy surroundings. Treading on fresh moss and fire colored mushrooms, mud seeped into our shoes, while we crawled beneath logs. 1.5 kilometers in we halted; the cache was in sight.
Like a boy climbs his first tree, Reindeer scaled a slippery sludge hill toward a rusting iron box attached to a tree. He sat anxiously upon an illuminated patch of wet leaves, opening the latched box as if it was Christmas morning. Inside were tiny trinkets of past geocachers and a list of geo-identities. The accomplishment offered a moment of solace as Reindeer’s face was that of satisfaction and fulfillment.