Skip to content

Bruden fra Rørvig Mystery Cache

A cache by pli Message this owner
Hidden : 6/21/2007
Difficulty:
1.5 out of 5
Terrain:
1 out of 5

Size: Size:   regular (regular)

Join now to view geocache location details. It's free!

Watch

How Geocaching Works

Please note Use of geocaching.com services is subject to the terms and conditions in our disclaimer.

Geocache Description:

Husk af afslutte dit fund med en god logning.
En god logning hjælper fremtidige findere af cachen og glæder cacheejer.
Læs mere om kampagnen på www.dengodelogning.dk

Denne serie foregår i Sandflugtsplantagen mellem Nykøbing og Rørvig. Undervejs vil du opleve hvorfor den hedder sådan, og de mange landskaber der findes. Prøv at forestille dig et hedelandskab, hvor intet kan gro fordi det konstant blæses omkuld. Omkring Århundredeskiftet startede man på at plante denne plantage der i dag giver læ til mange sommergæster.

I Serien Indgår:
  • Fluepapiret 1
  • Fluepapiret 2
  • Grankoglen
  • Brandmanden
  • Pumpehuset
  • Udsigt til Kattegat

Læs først teksten til Bruden fra Rørvig, og i hver cache er der spørgsmål om denne tekst der leder dig frem til de endelige koordinater for cachen.

Koordinaterne er: 55 57.ABC, 11 43.DEF
I slut-cachen er der også et hint til ”Sol over Rørvig”.

Der var stille i Rørvig-præstens studerekammer denne lørdag aften. Den gamle præst sad bøjet over sin prædiken, som han skulle holde næste dag. Lampen kastede sit blege skær over hans hvide hår, og pibens røg snoede sig i rolige bølger omkring ham. Den fuldkomne stilhed blev kun brudt af træernes sus udenfor vinduet. Pludselig lød stærke, hurtige skridt på trappen, og to fremmede mænd i hvide kapper kom ind i værelset. Præsten så forundret på de sene besøgende. De tiltalte ham høfligt nok, men der lå en skjult trussel i deres stemmer. Deres sprog var fremmedartet og næsten ikke til at forstå, men de mange penge i den enes hånd og pistolen i den andens, talte et tydeligt sprog - præsten forstod, at han skulle følge med. Med rystende hænder tog den gamle mand sin kappe på. Han turde ikke modsætte sig den truende pistol og gik sammen med de to mænd ud i den mørke, kolde efterårsnat. De skulle gå en halv kilometer gennem det øde og forladte sandlandskab, og præstens to ledsagere var tavse og indrettede kun modvilligt deres skridt efter den gamle mands langsomme gang. De havde hastværk, og der var noget uheldssvanger over deres miner og bevægelser. Præsten fik snart øje på sin kirke, som lå fuldt oplyst oppe på bakken - et syn, han så mange gange havde hilst med glæde, men i aften så han det med bange anelser og frygt i hjertet. De to mænd puffede ham ind ad døren, ind i en tæt trængsel af mennesker, som talte et fremmed sprog. Præsten famlede sig frem til alteret, halvt bedøvet af stemmernes larm, det blændende skær fra de mange vokslys og sin egen sindsbevægelse. Folk gjorde plads for ham, og så stod han overfor et brudepar! - Unge, smukke og rigt klædte mennesker! Brudgommen var en mørkhåret, kraftig mand med en skarp ørnenæse og urolige, stirrende øjne. Ved siden af ham stod den smukkeste pige, præsten havde set i sit liv. Det blonde hår lå i krøller omring hendes fine ansigt, og en lyseblå silkekjole med sølvbroderier smøg sig omkring hendes slanke krop. Et pragtfuldt diadem smykkede hendes hoved, og på sine hvide fingre bar hun mange kostbare ringe. Men hun lignede ikke en lykkelig brud. Det smukke ansigt var blegt og forstenet, og hun skælvede over hele kroppen så hun næppe kunne holde sig oprejst. Præsten kunne ikke få sine øjne fra denne smukke, fortvivlede pige. Hendes skønhed betog ham, og hendes fortvivlelse rørte hans hjerte. Endelig løsrev han sit blik fra hende og lod sine øjne vandre rundt i kirkerummet. Med bestyrtelse så han, at en sten fra gulvet stod op ad en kirkebænk, og der, hvor stenen havde ligget var opkastet en ny grav. Præsten var så forfærdet, at han først kom til sig selv, da den rigt klædte mand puffede til ham. Brudeparret stod foran ham og ventede. Med brudt stemme læste præsten vielsesritualet. Pigen hviskede sit ja med næsten uhørlig stemme - men brudgommens svar var som et brøl. Efter vielsen fik præsten sine penge og blev gennet ud af kirken med påbud om straks at gå hjem - men han ventede i skjul udenfor. I begyndelsen hørte han kun en sagte mumlen, men efter nogen tid udviklede det sig til et højrøstet skænderi - derefter lød et højt, skærende kvindeskrig og et pistolskud. Så blev alt dødsens stille! Lysene blev slukket, og efter nogen tid forlod de mange mennesker kirken, gik mod stranden og forsvandt som spøgelser i natten. Præsten stod kulskær og rystede i ly af den pille, han havde skjult sig bagved. Han turde ikke komme frem før den sidste lyd var døet hen. Han indså, at han ikke kunne finde løsningen på de sære begivenheder nu i mørket, og derfor gik han hjem. Søvn kunne han ikke finde, han sad i sin lænestol ved vinduet og ventede, tung i sindet, til morgendagen brød frem. Så snart det begyndte at lysne, gik han til landsbyen, som lå et stykke fra præstegården. Her vækkede han nogle af sine venner. Han kunne mærke på dem, at de ikke rigtigt troede på hans fortælling, men han fik dem dog med sig, bærende på brækjern og skovle. Solen stod op, da de nåede kirkebakken. I morgendisen så de et fremmed skib fjerne sig fra land, for fulde sejl. - Var det et russisk rigsskib...? - Det var de ikke helt sikre på, men deres mistillid til præsten historie veg, og de fulgte ham ind i kirken. Osen fra de mange lys, som havde været tændt om natten, og den tydelige lugt af frisk opgravet jord lå i luften. De kunne også straks se, hvilken sten der havde været løsnet. Mændene løsnede stenen på ny, gravede jorden op... og dernede i det mørke hul lå den unge, smukke brud. Pistolkuglen havde ramt hende i hjertet. Nu var hendes ansigt fredfyldt, angstens skygger havde forladt det. Grædende kastede den gamle præst sig ned ved siden af graven og bad bønner for hendes sjæls fred. Mændene stod stumme og rystede over dette gådefulde mord, som syntes så meningsløst. De ordnede graven igen og gik hjem. De måtte støtte den nedbrudte præst. Han forvandt ikke den natlige oplevelse og døde kort tid efter.

Eng:
It was quiet in the study of the priest in Rørvig, this Saturday evening. The old priest was writing tomorrows sermon. The lamp was shining on his white hair, and the smoke from his pipe was coiling up into the air. This absolute silence was only disturbed by the wind in the trees outside the window. Suddenly, quick steps were heard on the stairs, and two strangers in white cloaks entered the room. The priest looked in surprise at the late arrivals. They were politely addressing him, but a hidden threat was in their voices. Their language was strange and barely understandable, but the huge sum of money in the hand of one of the persons, and the gun in the other persons hand, was talking out clearly – the priest understood that he should follow. With shaking hands the old man took on his own cloak, he did not dare to resist the threatening gun, and walked together with the two men in the cold autumn night. They walked half a kilometer through the abandoned sandy landscape, and the two companions of the priest were silent and unwillingly adjusting their steps to the pace of the old man. They were in a hurry and in their faces a disastrous look was seen. The priest soon glanced at his church, standing in full light on the top of the hill, a sight he had often met with great pleasure, but tonight it was with great worries and fear in his heart. The two men pushed him through the doors of the church, which was full of people talking a strange language. The priest stumbled ahead to the altar, half seduced by the noise of the voices, the bright light of the many wax candles and his own state of mind. The people let him through, and in front of him there were a couple - bride and groom. This couple was young, beautiful, and richly dressed people! The groom was a dark haired, big man, with an eagle’s crooked nose, and uneasy staring eyes. By his side was the most beautiful bride the priest had ever seen in his entire life. Her blond hair had smooth curls, which lay on her ebony face, and she was wearing a light blue silk dress with silver cross stitches, which smoothly laid around her slim body. She was wearing a gorgeous tiara on her head, and on her white fingers she had many priceless rings. But she did not look like a happy bride. The beautiful face was pale and almost turned into stone, shivering all over, and barely able to stand. The priest kept looking at this beautiful girl in despair. Her beauty was so impressing, and her despair touched his heart. Finally he gave the church room a glance. With outrage he noticed that a stone was taken up from the floor, and was leaning at one of the benches. And underneath were the stone had been, he saw a newly dogged grave. The priest was so scared, that he did not continue until he was pushed by the richly dressed man. The bride and the groom were standing in front of him waiting. With a shaken voice, the priest was reading the wedding ceremony. The girl whispered her “yes” with a barely unheard voice – but the answer from the groom was like a roar. After the wedding the priest got his money, was pushed out of the church, and told to go to his home. But he waited in hiding outside. In the beginning he heard nothing but weak mumbling; it went into a loud quarrel – followed by a woman’s cry, and a gunshot. Everything was deadly silent, and after a while the many people left the church, went for the beach and disappeared like ghosts in the night. The priest stood freezing and shaking behind the pillar that had been his hideout. He did not dare to appear before the last sound was heard. He understood that at this time of night he could not find the solution to the strange things that had happened, so he went home. He could not sleep, and was sitting in his armchair until the daylight broke. As soon as the sun was coming up, he went to the village, which was just a short distance from the priest’s home. Here he woke up some of his friends. He could feel that they did not trust his story, but he persuaded them to follow him with shovels and crowbars. The sun had risen when they reached the church hill. In the morning fog, they saw a ship disappearing, with all sails set. Was it a Russian warship? – They were not sure, but their mistrust to the priest was weakening, and they followed him into the church. The smell from the many candles was still in the air, as well as the smell from newly dog earth. It was obvious which stone that has been turned over. The men loosened the stone again, dog up the earth, and down in the grave, the young beautiful girl lay. The bullet had hit her in the heart. Now her face was peaceful, the shadows of fear had disappeared. The priest sat down crying at the body, praying for her soul. The men stood numbed, shaken by this mysterious murder, so meaningless. They arranged the grave again and went home. They had to support the broken priest. He did not recover from his experience and died shortly after.


This series is combined of caches in the "Sandflugtsplantagen" between Nykøbing and Rørvig. At your way you will see why the name is such, and the many landscapes to find. Try to imagine the landscape as heather where nothing can grow because it is constantly blown away. Around the century 1900, tha plantation was startet which today gives the peace for many summer guests.
Read the text for the bride in Rørvig and in each cache a question will lead you to the final cache at the Coordinates: 55 57.ABC, 11 43.DEF
In the final cache, another hint is to the event cache ”Sun over Rørvig”.

Additional Hints (Decrypt)

Yntg v uhyavat v wbeqra, znexrerg zrq cvaq.

Decryption Key

A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|L|M
-------------------------
N|O|P|Q|R|S|T|U|V|W|X|Y|Z

(letter above equals below, and vice versa)