"Zoe keeps poking me with a stick," Maddy complained, dodging around the parking lot near the Appalachian Trail sign.
After two hours in the car, we were at our worst. Zoe, 14, and Maddy, six, were driving each other crazy, my wife, Barbara, was impatient, and I had turned into the tyrant father. We had come to do letterboxing, damn it, and letterboxing we would do.
An outdoor activity that originated in England in the late 1800s, letterboxing is part orienteering, part treasure hunt. It has grown geometrically since it was introduced in the United States in its current form just five years ago. Here's how it works: One player goes to an area suitable for a fine hikeusually on public landand hides a waterproof box containing a notebook, an ink pad, and a rubber stamp designed for that site. He or she then comes up with clues (sometimes clear, sometimes cryptic) describing the whereabouts of the stash and shares them with other players, usually by posting them on the Letterboxing North America Web site, www.letterboxing.org.
Rubber-Stamping It
According to Letterboxing North America, more than 2,000 letterboxes are now hidden throughout the United States. For more about letterboxing, including clues to the boxes hidden nearest you (or the site of your next vacation) and tips on making your own stamps, visit www.letterboxing.org.
Checking the southern Vermont page of the site, I'd noticed that three letterboxes had been hidden in the shadow of Killington Peak, all within a couple miles of Maine Junction, where the Appalachian Trail heads northeast toward Maine and the Long Trail north toward Canada. All were marked "Clues: Easy" and "Terrain: Moderate"ideal for the members of our tennis/cricket/yoga/soccer family, who regard hiking as a form of punishment. I printed out the clues, we drove down from our home in northern Vermont, and now, as I stuffed my pockets with the compass and our signature stamps (bought, not homemadea sure sign of our novice status), I was determined to scoop all three.
We headed purposefully into the woods, Maddy using her hiking stick as if poling a gondola. It was a hard mile uphill, and even the thrill of the treasure hunt was beginning to pall when Zoe let out a whoop that echoed through the forest. She had found the trail junction.
When we caught up with her, we were in for a shock: a hunter crouched by the trail, his rifle erect. Three more soon appeared from the trees, and one pointed out helpfully that Zoe's faux-sheepskin coat made her look like a deer. By letterboxing standards, this was a bit extreme. Insects and poison ivy are regarded as natural hazards of the sport; being shot at is not.
Trying to pretend the hunters weren't there, I read the clue aloud: Choose one trail, note its compass bearing, and proceed the same number of paces down the trail. There, we would see a pair of yellow birches to the right, their roots entwined. Under roots and rock, we'd find the box.