“Barry and the Bubbling Bliss”
(A Geocache Tale from the Mount)
Barry the Bison wasn’t your average bison. While most of his kind roamed the open plains, Barry had found his way to the coastal paradise of Mount Maunganui—and he’d fallen head over hooves for it.
Now, Barry wasn’t exactly built for mountain climbing. His shoulders were broad, his steps were heavy, and his coat was more suited to the tundra than a sun-drenched summit. But today, something had stirred in his big, grass-loving heart. As the first rays of morning sun spilled across the beach, Barry had looked up at the towering figure of Mauao and decided: “Today… I’m climbing that.”
And so, off he went.
It was a slow and steady trudge up the track. Locals jogging past offered cheerful “kia ora”s. Visitors stopped and blinked in disbelief. A bison on the Mount? Surely not. But Barry just kept climbing, one hoof at a time, his breath steaming in the cool morning air.
He paused at every lookout—partly for the view, mostly to catch his breath. By the time he reached the summit, he was a sight to behold. Fur slightly matted, tail tangled with flax, and a proud, windblown look in his eyes. He stood quietly at the top, gazing out over Pilot Bay and the endless curve of the Pacific Ocean, and whispered to no one in particular:
“Hard yards… but worth it.”
Of course, what Barry hadn’t told anyone was that he had a post-hike tradition. Because as glorious as climbing the Mount was, nothing—nothing—compared to what came next…
The Mount Hot Pools.
With the sun now hanging low in the sky, Barry trotted his way back down, careful not to startle tourists or topple strollers. By the time he reached the hot pools, the air was filled with steam and the scent of warm minerals. The staff gave him a wave—by now, he was practically a local landmark.
He lowered himself into his favourite corner of Pool 3 with a contented splash, the heat rising up through his sore legs and into his shaggy shoulders. His whole body sighed.
Barry stretched out, his snout just above the water, and watched the bubbles drift lazily past. Nearby, a couple of kids giggled at the sight of him, while an older man nodded respectfully from his lounger. A tui warbled from the pōhutukawa trees nearby. The salt air mingled with the steam.
Wally the Weka strutted along the edge of the pool fence and called down, “You going to move in one day, Baz?”
Barry blinked slowly. “Tempting.”
He shifted slightly, positioning his back against a well-placed jet. “Best spot in the Bay,” he mumbled, eyes half-closed. “Climb the Mount… soak the soul…”
Wally chuckled. “Any room for a bird?”
“Always,” Barry replied. “But you better bring snacks.”
As the evening wore on and the last glimmers of daylight faded, Barry finally climbed out of the pool, dripping and steaming, and gave himself a big shake. He wandered over to the front gate, where he liked to sit a moment before heading off into the night.
Right outside the pool entrance was an old wooden bench at the nearby bus stop—a quiet little nook where steam from the pools still drifted out into the street. Barry flopped down beside it with a thud, letting the warmth of the day settle deep into his bones.
“This,” he thought, “is the perfect end to a perfect day.”
And maybe—just maybe—you might find something special tucked away near that very same spot. After all, Barry’s not the only one who knows how to hide something well…
If you’ve come this far on your own adventure, you’re close.
Check around the bus stop out front. Look high,, think small, and remember—Barry’s got an eye for clever spots.