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SMSI. Show Me Something Interesting. Cache Owner BiT promises to show us The Shoe Tree, one in a series of SMSI’s for this Cache Owner.

Ground Zero is a canoe launch for Alum Creek Lake. We are in a grove of trees next to busy Route 36. Bird activity is low, as nesting gives way to thoughts of migration. Queen Anne has made her lacy mid-August debut, while the tree behind her pays homage with fresh fall growth.

We figure shoe trees are fairly uncommon, and for that very reason, this one should be easy to spot. When we turn up an empty carton of Corona Extra, it seems that more than shoes could be going on here.

Cedar – that was BiT’s hint. I hope this is a cedar tree, because that is definitely a pair of . . . . shoes. Like graffiti on a wall or initials carved into a trunk, the shoes make a statement, I was here. I left my shoes.

As we walk away, the tree curls its leafy arms around the shoes — and the cache — once again.

Hanging by a Thread will give us a sip of sweet summer’s passing. This is an Alum Creek Lake cache placed by Long_Lost_Cacher.

As August unwinds toward the brisk days of September, even Daddy Longlegs is rushing. Crickets and katydids follow suit, packing their instruments and leaving the bright summer stage. Their deafening cadence departs, preparing us for snowy silence.

Now we are deep into the woods. Scarlet leaves flash previews of explosion into fall fireworks, brief consolation for the brown forest months ahead.

Ground Zero is on target. Happily in this wild place, the thread is hanging as it should. Pumped from deep within the earth, oil is fashioned by the human into a plastic container, then linked to these yet young trees, and so joins in the natural symphony.

Turning homeward, two shortcuts across sandbars would return us more quickly. Should we venture down and up these slippery slopes, then hope to hit the trail again?

The vote is in, and down the slopes we creep. If one goes, we all go. As promised, we are hanging by a thread. The camaraderie of the search and the excitement of the find carry us through thorns and burrs until we hit . .. . what is this called again? . . . ah, yes, black top.

The Trail That Never Ends will be that. It winds on and on. We pass silently along. Through the trees, we catch glimpses of the lake, where Lake People growl by in a flash of watercraft. Dig down deep into Alum Creek Lake, and you will find the farms that were flooded for the reservoir, then the cabins of early settlers, then the longhouses of the Iroquois, and then perhaps a remnant of a Mound.

Tracks tell us that others have passed by on this bridle trail, managed by the Ohio Horse Council. We are reminded that the romance between human and horse did not end with the “horseless carriage.” Meeting a horse on this narrow trail would be . . . interesting.

The small matter of a ravine blocking our path comes up for discussion, and exactly how to double back around it.

Triumphant, we arrive at Ground Zero, to find Long_Lost’s ubiquitous hint, In the hollow of a tree. As always with this hint, we go round and round in circles. We stumble over a fallen forest monarch, its crumbling richness returning to the soil.

But wait – could that be a hollow in a tree . . . and so it is. This gentle, stately ruler of the forest gives us yet another gift.

In return we leave a trackable. Come, rider, and find a little horse on the bridle trail.

Hides placed by Long_Lost_Cacher have brought hundreds of geocachers to unknown spots throughout Delaware County. At these clandestine meetings, introductions are made by signing a simple paper log. Without a title, a deed or a bulldozer, the human has made claim to a vast sweep of land. Or has this broad and generous land laid irrevocable claim to the human?

At our first meeting with Long_Lost_Cacher, we seek to sample Durhams Finest Brew. The trail is rough along Alum Creek Lake. Tree roots reach for our shoes, while acorn hulls slip and slide. Our walking stick falls into the poison ivy, and a rescue must be managed.

The cleaned walking stick now functions as a sword. Quicker than light, it is brandished. Spider webs are woven invisibly across the trail at face level. They. Must. Be. Cleared.

When Long_Lost serves it up, Durhams Finest Brew is indeed fine.

About a half mile down the trail, one of us will notice that a walking stick has been left behind.

Joining us on north I-71 are crowds of students fleeing the city for the weekend. As we leave the freeway and turn west, dense foliage bursting with late summer green gives way to glistening soybeans.

Breathing deeply the exuberance of August, we will follow Team Poston to the End of the Road. Literally, as our road ends on the peninsula which juts its alligator mouth into north Alum Creek Lake.

We walk down the trail to the lake. A remote worker in his home office holds a cell phone in one hand and a fishing pole in the other.

Back at Ground Zero, Team Poston doesn’t waste our time. Their hint lets us know, if you don’t see it, it’s gone. We see it. We’re grateful.

Even the End of the Road needs a guardrail. And this is a lesson worth finding.

Ursa Minor Beta will take us straight toward Alum Creek Lake, for another CentralOHGeocaching hide. A decade of adventure hunting has not aged this geo trail.

Golden ragwort and tiny white daisies nod their blazing radiance. Traffic sounds fade. More trails diverge in the green wood, but CentralOHGeocaching directs us straight west.

Fallen limbs from summer storms crisscross our path. Crouching low, we move each muscle in a living physics problem as we slither through.

Suddenly upon us breaks the sound of waves lapping, known to every child of earth. The water opens in a dazzling vista of sun, splash and sailboats.

Warmth from a recent fire rises above a ring of stones. Others were here before us, irresistibly drawn to cadence of waves on ear and sparkle of water on eye, in dimensions that do not digitize.

Our cache is hidden in a tangled thicket of poison ivy and thorn bushes, each of which strikes when we are within reach. The walk back is fast and silent. For lake, sky and sun, the price was not too high.

Sirius Tau was placed a decade ago by CentralOHGeocaching as part of the GeoCruise trail. When the Cache Owner becomes a group instead of a person, then whole park systems and tourism offices take up arms, or rather GPS coordinates. We are about to discover if any geocruisers are still around.

The Cleveland Avenue artery runs straight south, into the heart of downtown, but for us, its great pulse will lead north toward Alum Creek Lake. Past our car windows flow bikers, anglers, medical campuses, fountains, lakes, weeds left to flower. The patchwork holds healthy and sick, nourished in the great natural world.

Suddenly the dam rises on the left. Our parking lot sign instructs that only waterfowl may be hunted on Sunday, and only bows may be used for deer hunting. Please stay hidden, all deer and waterfowl.

The trees gaze with silent sympathy as we study our GPS. Sometimes the obvious is too obvious. At these times, we give up because it’s not where we want it to be. Interesting comments commence between geocachers.

Within a family of trees, huddled around a tiny box, we find our prize. Shoes hit dirt, hands touch bark, lungs breathe in what trees breathe out. We take our turn to make our mark and walk away.