Cache Encounters of the 4th Kind* Traditional Cache
Cache Encounters of the 4th Kind*
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Difficulty:
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Terrain:
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Size: 
(regular)
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Some things are too
memorable to let go…
It happened fifty years ago to a quiet middle-aged man named Edward
Russell Hansen. Edward had lived in the Coos Bay Area his whole
life. He had no wife, no kids, and no close friends but his old
hound Deke. In his head, there were no plans to move away from the
area, and no aspirations for any great adventures.
Edward’s life consisted of two basic things: His work as a
small-time private electrician, operating out of his small shop in
downtown Coos Bay. And the books he read each evening—mostly
science fiction—sitting beside the cozy fire in his average
middle-class home with his loyal dog lying at his feet. His life
was virtually without complication. And that was exactly how he
preferred it.
Simple. Calm. Predictable. Until, that is, the day Ed’s world
collided with itself.
The year was 1962. The date: September 22.
Mr. Hansen had spent a long day installing new electric lines in an
area not far from Winchester Bay. The job was hard and dirty, and
he was glad to finally be finished. Worn out and hungry, he had
loaded his tools, and his canine companion, into his old green work
truck, and began the 30 minute drive back home. The hour was late,
the roads were getting dark, and he was tired. As he drove, he
contemplated whether he might even be too tired for the fireside
chapters he had reserved for the night.
But lazily coasting down the hill toward Clear Lake, something
caught his eye. And what he saw instantly woke all his senses. A
large, metallic, disc-like object, seemed to be hovering low over
the lake. He would later describe it as a silver bowl with a dome,
but that didn’t occur to him at first. He would later say it
seemed to be spinning, but he was never sure of that. What he was
sure of—and, in this, his story never changed—was the
beam. For, though the sky still had a pale glow over the lake, he
could clearly see a brilliant red shaft of light radiating from the
underside of the floating object. A wide beam that almost appeared
to be scanning the water below.
So startled was he, by this sight, that he didn’t hear
Deke’s ceaseless barking. So entranced was he, by this red
beam, that he didn’t notice his truck beginning to wander
from its lane. And, as he cruised closer to the still silent water,
the beam began to drift toward him, almost as if “it”
had noticed his presence. But, by this time, he had not the room on
the road, nor the clarity of mind, to move out of its path.
Suddenly the scarlet beam shone directly on him. And, though he
could later remember very little of what actually happened, he did
stand firm on three details: First, the brilliance of the light was
so bright that it instantly robbed him of all sight. Second, his
truck trembled so violently, it was as if it were being picked up
by the beam and shaken. And finally, the engine died, as sure and
as quick as though it had been yanked right out of its cavity. How
long this lasted, whether seconds or hours, he was never quite
certain, since time seemed completely irrelevant. And then the
metallic disc was gone—vanished without a trace. Without the
least sign that it had ever even been there.
When Edward finally gathered his senses some time later, the sky
was black, the truck was dead in the forest, and Deke was gone. He
hunted and called for his four-legged friend, but never again did
he see poor Deke. Motivated by fear and grief, he frantically
ripped through the brush toward the occasional sounds of passing
cars on the highway, completely abandoning his old company truck
right where it was stranded in the woods. In fact, he was so upset
by the whole event, that he could never bring himself to return to
the site again.
The event became the single biggest news story along the southern
Oregon coast. Folks swarmed in from all over the country to search
for the "alien space ship", and to try to meet the reluctant hero.
But Ed mostly just stayed inside his little house. The police did
investigate the incident, but found no evidence for anything Mr.
Hansen had claimed regarding his experience. However, that didn't
seem to matter to the rest of the world. Some people believed his
story anyway, just because they liked the idea of a real alien
encounter. Some people wanted to believe his story because he was
such a genuinely nice guy. But, locally, most of the town folk just
figured he fell asleep, drove off the road, and dreamed the whole
thing.
There was even one couple, Jay and Jan Cookwright—the owners
of the Clear Lake Motel, just down the road from where Ed’s
account took place—who stated that they had also seen the
object. And, to back up their words, the Cookwrights claimed to
have a picture to prove it. The picture excited the die-hard UFO
fanatics, but did little to sway the minds of the more skeptical,
who instantly believed it to be a fake. Even when the Cookwrights
presented a different picture, four years later, describing a
similar but distinct event, it did little to rouse support. What it
did do, unfortunately, was to raise the motel vacancy rate. And,
thus, it was no surprise when, in 1966, the Clear Lake Motel
finally shuttered its doors to the public, and was demolished a few
months later. Jay and Jan Cookwright moved from the area and were
never heard from again.
It is true that perhaps as many as a dozen agents from the NSA
(National Security Agency) were seen canvassing the area around
Clear Lake in those years, but no announcement was ever made
regarding their findings. And Clear Lake itself has been fenced and
off-limits to boaters and campers ever since that time.
As for Edward, he continued working in the Bay Area for awhile,
though he had to change his name because of all the publicity over
the incident (he used his middle name, and adopted the new middle
name of Deke). He never married, never again had a dog, and never,
ever, read any book, but his old leather Bible. But, even so, after
a few years, his memories haunted him so much, he finally moved
away, leaving no forwarding address.
There are some who say that as long as the truck is still there,
Deke will continue to wander the woods, faithfully searching for
his caring master. There are some who claim that certain electrical
equipment, at times, may behave very erratically in that portion of
the forest. And there are some who still swear that something else
inhabits the woods, some sort of strange frenzied creature, hunting
for whatever it can find to claim as its prize. Well, the truth may
never be fully known about what happened on that lonely drive home.
But what is clearly known is that fifty years ago, for whatever
reason, the world of Mr. Hansen changed forever. And along with
him, a lot of others' lives too.
Please do not try to park or walk along Highway 101, as there is
no place to pull off near the cache, and the curves here make it
very dangerous. Instead, park in the large gravel pullout just
north of the cache location. Enter near the “Children’s
Forest” sign, and walk south along the powerline trail.
Please hide the cache-container well to avoid damage or
theft.
Thank you to Mackie for his original placement.
*See "Pastorlamar's Scale of Cache Encounters"
below.
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
15 srrg fbhgu bs na vagrerfgvat xrl bowrpg, n urzybpx naq fcehpr tebj orfvqr rnpu bgure. 15 srrg qbja gur uvyy fbhgujrfg sebz gurfr gerrf, yvrf n ynetr fghzc. Ng gur onfr bs n gerr zvqjnl orgjrra gur urzybpx-fcehpr tebjgu, naq gur fghzc, yvrf gur pnpur.
Treasures
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