Somehow I still manage to maintain my streak. The above cache is my daily one. Interestingly enough, I had to sneak into a construction site to get it. It’s near a dock and the entire waterfront is closed off for construction. The cache itself is nowhere near the construction, but is unfortunately inside the perimeter. Luckily, you can almost always bet on laziness in any large system. The edge of the perimeter is wired to a tree with vines and brush on the other side of it. For the average person, it’s reasonably impenetrable. For a geocacher, though? More like a T2.5… Add in it being night and a bunch of people parked in the area going to a holiday thing and nobody noticed me trespassing. Got in, got out, easy peasy lemon squeezy.
The irony is that this was not my first attempt at a cache. I don’t like to cache in nice neighborhoods because I stand out like a sore thumb even/especially when the sun is down. But there was a park and grab at a private residence and I’m about 85% sure I know the cachers who live there. So I get there, get out of my car, and am standing in the street checking my phone for the direction to the cache when I hear a voice asking “Can I help you?” “No thanks,” I reply. “I’m good.” Then he asks “Who are you?” with an edge in his voice I’ve heard more than a few times in my life. I’m literally standing on a public street doing nothing but looking at my phone and some random dude walking his dog feels he has the right to ask my identity? And I can’t help thinking that being black is a big part of this. My immediate gut reaction was to shine a flashlight in his face and ask Do I know you?, but I kept it low key. “No one of consequence. Who are you?” With indignation in his voice at being questioned himself, he said “I’m [Such-And-Such] and I’ve lived in that house (the one across the street from the cache) for 31 years.” Grand proclamation, but I’m not on your property. Heck, I’m not on anybody’s property. I’m literally standing in the middle of a public street. I was also beginning to feel myself getting upset. No cache is worth this and I feel no need or desire to justify my self to this guy. So I came up with a simple excuse to leave: the wrong house number. I grabbed my car door to a heart felt “F%#& you!” from my interrogator. “Same to you,” as I sat behind the wheel and closed the door. Another time perhaps, but some crap just isn’t worth it.
Lastly, the decision has been made. I am officially the Captain of the Central Texas team for the Texas Challenge. We shall defeat those foul and most foreign interlopers from the other parts of the state and beyond! Victory or Death! Or, more likely, mild annoyance!