I’m so close to New Mexico I could throw a rock into it (though only metaphorically from the courthouse). Ironically, it shares a border with Texico, New Mexico. I’m a little surprised nobody has attempted to write a song about it. Of course, that involves being this close to Farwell. Don’t get me wrong, though. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with Farwell other than its small size and the fact that it’s this close to New Mexico. There’s a marker for the Ozark Trail here, but I didn’t see it while I was about. I hadn’t planned on the Ozark Trail becoming a recurring theme in the current narrative or else I would have sought the marker out here. Or maybe not. It’s secondary to all this. Well, actually, if the cache is primary and the courthouse is secondary, then anything else is tertiary. Eh. Who am I kidding? The cache and the courthouse have shared primacy in this project. Also I learned that quaternary is, in fact, the ordinal followup to tertiary and that quinary is, in fact, a word. But, while you may or may not read this for my thoughts as a tourist, I seriously doubt you care about my lexical musings.
The cache was refreshingly simple: a bison attached to a cable in a fence post at a car wash. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy (as they say in the parlance of our time). I did the necessary and then got back to moving. Skimming the border momentarily, I headed south then broke off back towards the bosom of Texas until I landed in…
Geocaching While Black 