I rolled into this tiny town and, after a couple of wrong turns because of roads that look more like stone covered paths than roads, I pulled up to the courthouse. It’s always a bit weird when I get to a courthouse while it’s still open. I’m not really used to that since I usually hit these places on weekends. But even here in this tiny town people came and went on the business that makes their lives continue.
Someone was kind enough to leave a cache at the courthouse, assumably a micro in a tree. This is where that tree used to be. As a side note, the cache belonged to That Guy. This will come up again but we’ll get to that later…
But there’s always a cemetery nearby. The cache was easy enough to find even if it was about 20 feet off the GZ. It was found and signed and I got back to rolling.
The road has an allure and it calls to me sometimes. I don’t think about the Confederacy (yes, there’s a pink granite monument here) or my responsibilities or any of a number of other things weighing on my mind and my heart. I soak in the color and keep making my way. And now I was making that way to…
Geocaching While Black 