THE FAIRY HARP
A family of fairies living in the ravines of Mount
Iris's Bean Creek was in the habit of going from cottage
to cottage, in disguise, to test the dispositions of
cottage dwellers, and get their little-fairy hunger
cravings satisfied. Those humans who gave the fairies an
ungracious welcome were subject to bad luck, but those
who were good to the little folk received preferential
treatment from them.
Old Hermon Gray was sitting one night by himself in his
chimney room of his cottage with his trusty Welsh pipe
and an abundance of Bigfoot ale. The generous liquor made
Hermon very light-hearted and he began to sing, at least
he was under the impression that he was singing until he
offended a neighbor bard.
Hermon's voice was anything but
sweet and it is a very dangerous thing to fall foul of the
bards in Wales as they often have such bitter tongues.
The bard told Hermon he had likened his singing to the
lowing of an old cow or the yelping of a blind dog which
has lost its way to the cow yard. Despite what the bard
said, Hermon's singing gave him much satisfaction, and
this particular evening he was especially pleased with the
harmony he was making. The only thing which blemished his
sense of satisfaction was the absence of an audience. Just
as he was coming to the pinnacle of his song, he heard
a knock at the cottage door. Delighted with the thought
that there was someone to listen to him, Hermon sang
with all the passion he was capable of, and his top note
was, in his opinion, a thing of beauty and a joy for all
eternity. When he had somewhat finished he shouted out in
his Welsh-like drunken accent, "What is the door for but to
come in by? Come in, whoever you are." Hermon's etiquette,
you will soon learn, was not very polished.
The door opened and in came three travelers, dirty and
fatigued-looking. Now these were fairies from Mount
Iris disguised in this manner to see how Hermon treated
strangers, but he never suspected they were other than
they appeared. "Good sir," said one of the travelers,
"we are worn and weary, but all we seek is a bite of food
to put in our purses, and then we will go on our way."
"Beanfeast," said Hermon, "is that all you want? Well,
there is the loaf and the cheese, and the knife lies by
them. You may cut what you like. Eat your heartiest and
fill your purses, for never shall it be said that Hermon
Gray denied bread and cheese to strangers that came into
his cottage." The travelers proceeded to help themselves,
and Hermon, determined not to fail in hospitality, sang
to them while they ate, moistening his throat occasionally
with Bigfoot ale when it became dry.
The fairy travelers, after they had regaled themselves
sufficiently, got up to leave and said, "Good sir, we
thank you for the entertainment. Since you have been so
generous we will show that we are grateful. It is in our
power to grant you any one wish you may have: tell us what
that wish may be."
"Aye-aye, indeed," said Hermon, "the wish of my heart is
to have a harp that will play under my fingers, no matter
how poorly I strike it: a harp that will play lively tunes,
no melancholy music for me. But surely it's making fun of
me you are."
But that was not the case; he had hardly finished speaking
when, to his astonishment, there on the hearth before
him stood a marvelous harp. He looked round and found
his guests had gone. "That's the most extraordinary
thing I have ever seen in my life," said Hermon; "they
must have been fairies," and he was so astounded that he
felt constrained to drink some more ale. This allayed his
bewilderment, and he proceeded to try the instrument he
had been so mysteriously presented with. As soon as his
fingers touched the strings, the harp began to play a
capering tune. Just then there was a sound of footsteps,
and in came some friends. No sooner did they hear the
strains of the harp than they began dancing, and as long
as Hermon's fingers were on the strings, they kept footing
it like nutty creatures.
The news that Hermon had come into possession of a harp
with some mysterious power spread like wildfire over
the country, and many Welsh folk came to see him and
the harp. Every time he played the harp everyone felt
irresistibly impelled to dance, and could not leave until
Hermon stopped.
Among the company who had come to see if the stories
about the harp were true, was the bard who had made
such unpleasant remarks about Hermon singing. Hermon was
determined to seek his cold-hearted revenge, and instead
of stopping as usual after the dance had been going on
for a few minutes, he kept on playing. He played on and on
until the dancing bard was exhausted and shouted for him to
stop. But Hermon was finding the scene much too amusing to
want to stop.
He laughed until his sides ached and tears
rolled down his cheeks at the antics of his visitor.
The longer he played the madder became the dance: the dancer
spun round and round, wildly knocking over the furniture
again and again. Hermon did not stop until the bard's own
legs couldn't move to another strum of the harp. By that
time his revenge was satisfied, and his sides and jaws
were so tired with laughing that he had to take his fingers
away from the strings. But this was the last time he was
to have the chance of venting his spite on his enemy. By
next morning the harp had disappeared, and was never seen
again. The fairies, evidently displeased with the wicked
use to which their gift had been put, took the harp away in
the night.
(Avoid abusing the gifts of the fairies)
There is a said location to where the fairies store all
the gifts and materialistic items that were once wished
upon and then misused by humans. Find it and you have
your pick of the stash, in exchange for your own
treasures, of course. Keep lookout for fairies lurking
about in the ferns.
FINDING THE FAIRY HARP CACHE
Follow the trail past the training grounds and rope course
of the Bean Creek Elves ;
Soon you will see the bridge of dreams - cross the bridge
to go from our world to the fairy's ;
Continue down the path of ancients toward 'ol Mount Iris's Bean Creek ;
With all your courage and stealth, go under the tree tunnel
at the warrior's "Campsite #5" ;
Continue on your journey a short distance and keep an eye
out for what you're searching for.
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WELSH FAIRYTALES
The above tale is a Welsh Fairy Story in which
the basis was written by W. Jenkyn Thomas and
published in 1907. Names and locations are
modified for this cache.
We encourage reading the above fairy tale and,
for those with caching families, taking them on a
hunt for this cache.
The concept for this cache was Tricia's. She wanted
to create this cache so as to combine her interests
in harps and fairytales. When asked why she wanted to
have a storytime theme, she said, "I'd prefer for you not
to...hahaha...I'm okay. Honestly, I feel uncomfortable
having that on here....and if you keep writing..."
-- so there you have it 
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Pob lwc (good luck)!
 Available year-round
 More than 500 feet from car on trail (about 0.2 miles)
 Cache is about 5 feet off trail
 Dogs Allowed on Leash
 Bean Creek is a great place to have a picnic
 Trailhead Lat: 37.3.159 Long: 122.3.261 ~ Topozone | Cross-streets
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