One summer when I was young I went to stay with my two bachelor
Great-uncles. They had some property out in the hills and lived in
an old house. Uncle Garth and Uncle Hub had recently returned after
spending years overseas chasing their dreams. There were rumors
they had amassed a great fortune in their adventures but you would
never know it. The house was dilapidated and the outbuildings were
in disrepair. There was an old jalopy in the driveway but it was
never driven into town. My uncles passed the time shooting fish in
the pond, growing corn in the garden patch, and sitting on the
front porch watching the hay dry in the summer sun. They would get
a kick out of running off the occasional door-to-door salesman (who
would defy the 'No Trespassing,' 'Keep Out!' and 'Insured by Smith
& Wesson' signs hoping to get a piece of the riches) with
blasts from their shotguns, which were never kept more than an
arm’s length away. Garth and Hub were my mother's uncles, and she
left me with them hoping to get an 'in' and a piece of that vast
fortune when they died. They were less than thrilled.
For reasons unknown to me, Uncle Garth wanted to divide the land
in two. "To preserve my posterity!" he said. "Your posterity, my
posterior!" Uncle Hub grumbled. Uncle Garth hired a surveyor, whom
he watched with eagle eyes the entire time he was surveying the
property. Just as the surveyor was finishing his work along the new
dividing line, Uncle Garth had a change of heart. He fired his
shotgun into the air. Blam! "Get off my property, you
money-grubbin' thief!" Blam! Blam! He hailed a rain of bird shot
down on the surveyor and his party. The crew gabbed their
instruments in a panic, dropped a few notes in the rush, and never
came back.
"Now wha’didya go and do that for?" asked Uncle Hub. "They were
just getting their bearings and getting to know the area."
"Getting to the know the area a little too well for my liking!"
snorted Uncle Garth.
Uncle Hub lowered his voice, "But it’s split up and we posted
guards..."
"The whole thing was a bad idea. Won't do it again!" was the terse
reply.
Life went on that summer as though the event never happened,
which was how my uncles dealt with most things. I scooped up the
old surveyor’s notes and kept them as a souvenir.
The uncles up and died recently in a spectacular bi-plane crash.
(I won't bother you with the details, but suffice it to say 'they
died with their boots on.') They named me sole heir to their estate
- the run down property in the hills and everything on it. Nothing
ever materialized concerning their alleged fortune. Just a strange
note on their will, in Garth's hand, addressed to me: "Get your
bearings, and know the area."
I've been thinking of selling the place, but my uncle's last
words to me are haunting the back of my mind. I dug out the old
surveyor's notes but can't make anything of them. I've posted one
of the sketches below, and if none of you can help me I'm going to
unload the worthless piece of dirt later this
year.
"Get your bearings..."
To get the final coordinates, find the remaining interior angle
and compute the bearing for the last (left, middle) leg of the
traverse (no trig required!). Be sure to convert the results into
the more familiar DDD° MM.MMM' format.
The cache is on private land but access has been granted to the
public for recreational use. The gate is locked to motor vehicles.
At the trailhead, turn uphill at first, then downhill thereafter.
The round-trip is less than 2 miles and takes about an hour. No
bushwacking is required until you are right at the cache. Please be
respectful of the area, and enjoy the view!
You can check your answers for this puzzle on
Geochecker.com.
Be sure to check out the
bonus cache!