Cold winter days and lonely walks make me think of Robert Frost.
Well, at least I like to think about some of his poems. I was hiking along one day when I came upon a choice of paths to take. One was new and thus I surmised, less traveled. I took this path and thought about the poem as I walked along. This cache will help you learn a bit about one of America's most famous poets.
You should do your research before heading out and you can only find the cache legally during daylight hours.
The coordinates are as follows:
N 40 AB.CDE + 0.129
W 76 FG.HIJ + 0.296
The addition adjustment is to account for the original stage one's continual disappearance. Do not include the adjustments when verifying coordinates with Evince.
Now for the puzzle:
AB: The last two digits of the year "The Road Not Taken" was FIRST published minus F.
C: Second digit of the day he was married to Elinor Miriam White.
D: Last digit of the year his wife Elinor died.
E: Number of stanzas in "The Road Not Taken".
F: The number of roads in the yellow woods
G: The number of children born to Robert and Elinor
HIJ: X-(Y+Z)
X: The day of the year when he stopped by the woods on a snowy evening.
Y: Robert Frost's age at death.
Z: The number of words in the first stanza of "Dust of Snow" plus one.
You might want to consider actual dates and leap year in your calculations.
I have included two of my favorite Frosty poems for you to consider as you take a nice walk.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
