***WARNING!!! DO NOT APPROACH THE POSTED COORDINATES BY LAND!!!***
Go to the posted coordinates and solve a simple field puzzle, to get the final coordinates. Ken Johnson, director of the Rodeheaver Boy's Ranch has given limited permission, to approach the posted coordinates, by water. Please do not go past the posted coordinates.
Please leave the stamp in the cache. It is not a trade item
I've added a couple launch points, close by.
USS Columbine
Near this spot, in the Spring of 1864, an ancestor of mine, Batista Boudreaux, participated in what history notes as a Civil War battle. Join me, gentle reader, for the real story.
I should preface this tale, by pointing out that Batista was a bit of a scoundrel. If there were trouble to be had, odds are, he was somewhere nearby. It is also worth noting that Batista was a dunce. Not much going on, upstairs, if you will.
So, let us wind back the hands of time, and explore what really happened.
Batista was a Private, in the 2nd Florida Cavalry, under the command of Captain John Dickison. As you can imagine, life was tough for soldiers back then, especially those as lazy and dimwitted as Batista. Between the incessant mosquitos, the utter lack of air conditioning, and not having any bagels, life for Batista could best be described as miserable. One muggy afternoon, in May of 1864, Batista heard the knock of opportunity.
As he lay by the riverside, he saw this huge ship, the Federal Gunship Columbine, anchoring near this point, and observed one of the crew onboard, slathering gobs of cream cheese on to a bagel. As this crewman devoured this veritable feast, he had in his hands, a green metal strongbox, which Batista assumed must contain more bagels. (I told you he wasn’t very bright) Batista ran and told Captain Dickison about the ship, suggesting they attack it, but Captain Dickison was in the middle of his bath, and didn’t want to be bothered. Batista just had to have that box of bagels, and devised himself what he thought was a brilliant plan.
When the sun set, Batista swam out to the Columbine, snuck aboard, searched high and low for the supposedly bagel laden strongbox, and was promptly captured. Batista was tossed into the Brig, which on this ship was below the waterline and coincidentally located directly below the Captain’s quarters, and fed his first real meal in months, scrambled eggs and milk. Did I mention that Batista was lactose intolerant? Also, did I mention that the only lighting on the Columbine was oil lanterns? Perhaps you can already see where this is going.
Batista lay on his cot, in the Brig, farting like a cow in a clover field. The amount of methane released that night was truly staggering, both figuratively and literally, as we’ll soon learn. Eventually the methane buildup reached critical mass, and ignited, taking off the entire top half of the Columbine. Somehow, at the epicenter of the blast, Batista was mostly unharmed, though he was singed by the expanding fireball, and knocked unconscious when the aforementioned strongbox fell through the floor, from the Captain’s quarters, clunking him in the head. The explosion woke Batista’s Cavalry unit, who rushed to the river to see what all the fuss was about. They found Batista floating in the river, holding desperately onto a strongbox, muttering incoherently about guarding the bagels. Batista was disappointed to learn that the strongbox did not contain any bagels, and begrudgingly turned it over to his superiors, who were in a bit of a pickle.
If they told the truth, they would face endless shame for not attacking the enemy, so instead, they made up the story you see on the historical plaque, at the posted coordinates. As a reward of sorts, after removing the money from the strongbox, they gave the container to Batista, who filled it with his most prize possessions, hiding it in the woods, less than 2 miles from this spot. When Batista passed away, the strongbox had become a bit of a family legend, as Batista had never told anyone exactly where he had hidden it. In his wallet, was a torn and faded note, which said the following:
2396 1682 3273 1584 2758 1262 3434 2195 4312 1153
1141 1365 4231 2382 1112 3291 1122 1895 3551 1395
1223 1964 1335 1212 1181 4295 1134 1891 1323 1783
2621 2558 1191 3472 1345 1732 1943 1662 4319 2724
2442 3561 1655 1124 2173 2842 3454 1751 1164 4123
4272 1231 1123 1393 4251 1151 1277 1415 2347 1631
1267 4151 2126 4156 3353 1391 1192 1121 2383 1142
1897 1163 1431 1952 2861 3571 2889 3392 1741 3144
4112 2614 2272 1953 3514 1222 1781 2423 1243 4315
3523 1184 3332 2633 1232 2264 1937 1661 4211 1233
1183 1263 3482 1187 4128 2285 1821 1454 4134 4331
2875 1316 1422 3187 3565 1132 3353 1211 2699 1871
1677 2129 1657 1659 1193 2321 1339 3352 1252 1373
2573 4413 2176 1264 2397 1382 1896 4131 1315 2715
1673 2316 1325 1813 3531 4385 1412 1762 2283 1722
1352 2882 1452 3582 2292 4386 1532 3235 1455 2698
1832 1982 1253 1692 1785 1654 1686 2873 1133 1577
2222 1213 2615 1898 1394 1612 1333 1265 1574 1397
1421 1856 1774 2612 4353 1728 1347 2711 2555 3583
Decode the note, and maybe you can find Batista’s treasure!
It might be a good idea to print a copy of the note, before you head out there.
Oh... The name. Yeah, that should be obvious, to a history buff. Due to some strange twist in the space/time continuum, any llama which flies near this spot, suffers from significant vertigo, forcing them to land. Hence, the name, Llama Landing. This phenomena was first observed by famed explorer Juan Ponce de Leon. Later, some local redneck saw de Leon's sketches of this, and assumed he sucked at drawing, and that llama must be Spanish for horse. Thus, it's now called Horse Landing.
It is unknown if flying horses also suffer from vertigo, at this spot.