Hearts to Highway Tour — Our East Coast road trip adventure celebrating my 50th birthday! From South Carolina to North Carolina, Virginia to Delaware, Maryland to West Virginia, and finally Washington D.C., we’re chasing memories one geocache at a time. Each stop marks a first find, unlocking a new digital state souvenir and another story for the road. It’s more than a journey—it’s a celebration of love, discovery, and the open highway that connects it all.
Best Coast To Least Coast
I know, I know. It’s brazen to make a sweeping declaration about coasts without having officially visited them all—but that’s kind of my brand. Confidence first, evidence later. Besides, titles are allowed a little swagger.
Jen asked the question in that gentle, exploratory way she has—the one that sounds casual but carries intention.
“Hey babe… whatcha wanna do to celebrate your birthday? Not only that, but it’s your 50th.”
I paused.
That alone unsettled her. I don’t pause. I’m an immediate-answer person. A reflex responder. So when I sat there thinking, she tilted her head like something in the matrix had glitched.
“Geocaching,” I finally said.
She smiled. Of course she did.
“Yes, mi amor. I assumed that. But do you have something more specific?”
That’s when I smiled bigger.
“I have a plan.”
She laughed. “Of course you do. When do you not?”
And just like that, the idea stopped being hypothetical and started becoming inevitable.
Because this wasn’t just about turning fifty.
It was about motion. Direction. Curiosity.
It was about choosing an adventure that felt like me—and choosing to share it with the person who knows exactly how my mind works… even when I surprise her by stopping to think.
What followed became Hearts to Highway—an East Coast road trip stitched together by geocaches, first finds, state souvenirs, roadside detours, and the quiet joy of chasing something invisible that still manages to leave its mark.
Best Coast to Least Coast?
Maybe.
But this journey wasn’t about rankings—it was about the road, the rhythm, and the stories waiting just off the shoulder.
And yes, I had a plan.
Sallivating For Souvenirs
Inexplicably, I love earning the digital souvenirs awarded inside the official Geocaching app. Thinking about it more closely, I realized part of that obsession traces back to a single conversation at my very first geocaching event—hosted at the Buzz Inn Steakhouse near Snohomish Airfield.
That’s where I met Michael, better known as WATCHDog Mike R.
“Ya know, Falconer_Swarlos,” he said, leaning in like he was about to let me in on a trade secret, “if you select the right geocache, you can hit several buckets at once.”
It landed instantly.
Oh.
Oh wow.
He’s right.
That was the moment geocaching stopped being just about finding containers and started becoming about intentional discovery. Why grab any cache when you could grab the cache—the one that checks multiple boxes at once? Location. Difficulty. Favorite Points. Story. Souvenir.
From that point on, I started thinking in layers.
Take California, for example. I didn’t want my first California find to be just any park-and-grab off a frontage road. I wanted an abandoned vehicle hide. I wanted double—maybe triple—digit Favorite Points. I wanted it near the California–Nevada border. And I wanted it to feel earned.
So I did the work.
I researched.
I planned.
I filtered.
I read logs like footnotes.
And when the time came, I sought it out with WCP24 riding shotgun.
And we found it.
That single cache didn’t just give me a smiley. It unlocked a state, validated the strategy, and quietly reinforced something about how I move through the world. I don’t just like destinations—I like stacking moments. Letting one decision ripple outward into a richer experience.
That’s what souvenirs really are, digital or otherwise.
Proof that you were there—but also proof that you cared how you got there.
And once I understood that?
Yeah… I was hooked.
Party In The U.S.A.
A deeper dive—this was back in 2015—I discovered that each state had its own digital souvenir just waiting to be earned. Not all at once, obviously. Eventually. Maybe. With intention.
That’s when it stopped being abstract and started becoming tactical.
I printed out a blank map of the United States. On the back, I listed every state and penciled in the year I thought I might earn each one. Equal parts planning document and fever dream.
Ridiculous? Absolutely.
Obnoxiously ambitious? Without question.
On brand? Entirely.
It tracked.
Not because it was realistic—but because it gave shape to something I already knew about myself. I don’t stumble into milestones. I orbit them. I imagine the arc before I ever take the first step.
That map wasn’t a checklist. It was permission.
Permission to take the long way.
Permission to let some states come easily and others require patience.
Permission to believe that someday, years down the road, I’d look back and see a pattern instead of a scatterplot.
Some souvenirs came quickly. Others took years. A few required the right people, the right timing, or the right excuse to point the car east instead of west.
They may look static on a screen, but they aren’t. They’re bookmarks in a life—quiet receipts that say you were here, and it mattered enough to remember.
Godson Gabe, All The Love
Principal Jen’s winter break conveniently overlaps with Presidents’ Day in February. But there was never any question about one immovable anchor: my yearly visit to my godson, Gabe.
He’s still so young. Those years are non-refundable. So we didn’t negotiate around it—we built the trip around it.
We decided to kick off the Hearts to Highway Tour on Valentine’s Day, February 14th. First stop: Gabe’s birthday party on Saturday. Then an overnight in Kansas. And after that, the road opens up, pointing east.
I love the symmetry of it all.
Family first is a shared core value for Jen and me. Her love for me—honoring a milestone 50th birthday? Check. My love for her—recognizing how naturally she supports what lights me up? Also check.
She knows geocaching isn’t just an activity for me. It’s how I explore. How I stay curious. And in return, that curiosity fuels the kind of travel Jen genuinely loves.
The tour doesn’t begin with a highway sign or a souvenir unlock.
It begins with cake, candles, and a kid who doesn’t yet know how many miles are being driven because he matters.
And that feels exactly right.
Here’s Your Sign
To anchor the theme—because apparently I can’t just do a thing without giving it a visual—I worked with ChatGPT on the artwork and eventually took it to FedEx Kinko’s to make it real.
A sign. Printed. Tangible. Slightly absurd.
It lives in my suitcase.
The plan is simple: pull it out at notable moments. My first geocache in each state. A roadside landmark. Maybe dinner—if it’s somewhere like Cracker Barrel, where the environment already leans into kitsch. Nowhere classy. I’m not an animal.
The sign isn’t for attention. It’s for anchoring memory.
Digital souvenirs live in the app. The sign lives in photos, quietly insisting this wasn’t accidental—it was intentional.
If you’re going to chase memories across state lines, you might as well bring your own signposts.
Meteorologist Me
If you’ve been following along, you already know this: I love my lists. I love lists of lists.
I started by jotting down every city we’re traveling through, beginning with Charleston, South Carolina. From there, I searched each area for:
- Virtual caches
- With double- or triple-digit Favorite Points
- That were easily accessible
As departure got closer, weather tracking joined the mix. Forecasts. Snow lines. Road conditions. A low-stakes command center—exactly how I like it.
I even consulted my personal Amy Farrah Fowler of food science in Charlotte, North Carolina—MS, LDN, RDN. She confirmed what I needed to hear: snowy conditions in places, but roads mostly bare and wet.
Manageable.
So far, the plan remains the plan.
Adventures With Jen
This trip isn’t all about me. I’ve repeated that thought often—part reassurance, part accountability.
We found a rhythm: wake up, eat breaky, pack up, then a mix of geocaching, sightseeing, souvenir hunting, and moving on. No rush. No pressure.
The magic is in the overlap.
Jen wanted to visit the University of North Carolina campus—and nearby Duke, for her son, Mehki. My brain immediately lit up. Chances are never zero, and the likelihood of a Virtual nearby? High.
Yes, I want six state souvenirs and one for the District of Columbia. But I also want miles of smiles. Long conversations. Laughter that outpaces the odometer.
Another road trip? Absolutely.
Another road trip with Jen? Hell yes.
Life Is A Highway
We’ll rock that song at least once—windows cracked, volume up, somewhere on an actual highway from our Spotify playlist.
But even when the Hearts to Highway Tour officially ends in Washington, D.C.—at the rental car return at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport—the road doesn’t.
Jen’s primary love language is physical touch. Holding hands while driving. My hand resting gently on her thigh. Small gestures. Peak moments.
This post will publish while I’m on the road. But the words remain true—like milepost markers.
Life is a highway, sure.
But love?
Love is who’s riding shotgun.
los, Fil-Am Renaissance Man 