I don’t normally like this style of courthouse, that “modern” construction of the 1960’s that seems so emblematic of the 1970’s. I guess that can be said of anything trying to broadcast modernity from the past, especially the recent (last 50 years) past. That said, even those things that are timeless now were modern once. I guess I should be less critical, but let’s face it… That ain’t gonna happen. Even despite all that, this place has a certain handsomeness to it, a certain je ne sais quoi, that I will not deny. Of course, how many disliked designs have I determined to have that unnameable quality? Enough that I can’t think of specific examples, and too many that I want to comb through the archives to find some.
The cache itself was at a local corner park. Unfortunately, the top of the keybox was missing and it really needs to be replaced. I carry spare containers on me, though I very much dislike throwdowns, but I don’t carry keyboxes on me for some reason. I keep all my replacements and materials and what not in a tackle box at home. I’ve begun to wonder why I don’t just bring the entire thing with me on trips like this so I can service inadequate caches like this? It’s not like it would take up critical space for other things? The answer is probably for the same reason that I don’t bring my ladder or pole with me either: when I’m out here, I just want to get it and go. I’m not here to blanket an area, cache for the day, and soak in the color. I’m here on a mission, and such niceties detract from that. Maybe that makes me not as considerate a cacher as I could be. Well, one day I won’t have a streak to maintain and I’ll be casual about counties because I’ll have all the time in the world to travel (or perhaps less push to move as much). On that day, perhaps I’ll be the kindly tinkerer who can show loving care to misfit caches. Until then, I am a ruthless stalker of the road or some kind of crap like that. I claimed it, reported it for maintenance, and got back on the road. In another example of my apparent lack of planning, I passed by the resting place of the New Mexico County Challenge again. I should have measured twice so I could cut once and have some more time in Albuquerque to grab challenges. But my planning failures are not the issue here. I put I-40 under my tires for quite a way, inching closer to home, until I took a right and, after some gassing up and a frosty beverage, made my way into the limits of…
Geocaching While Black 