Fun fact: when I grab a cache today, it will be Day 1500 in a row of my streak that I’m no longer focusing on. Go me.
The weekend went by as weekends often do. I ended up finding an old cache that had eluded me for a long time. It was pretty easy, and I’m a little amazed I didn’t stumble upon it the other two times I went for it. In retrospect, however, the first time I went for it was a long, long time ago, and I didn’t have the skills I have now. I think I could have found it the second time, so it was just bad luck. The third time (I have heard it said) is a charm.
The Girls would only be here until Sunday afternoon, so I had some final shenanigans to conduct with them (from a caching perspective). A new cache dropped on Friday evening, so on Saturday morning, I dragged them along with me to get the FTF. We ended up on a greenbelt trail inside a subdivision well outside of town. It was along a trail, so I figured I’d be taking them for a nice walk in the morning cool (or, at least, the morning not-so-hot), but I forgot to factor in that it was a D3/T3 placed by a Boy Scout troop. Despite being on a trail, the elevation changes and the growth earned it its T3. We scampered down the side of one hill to a stream and then up the other side. The temperature steadily rose from the low eighties to the mid-nineties. Walking through the trees and over the karst took a small toll as sweat poured down our brows.
But as we turned a bend in the trail, we spotted a patch of hinted-at rocks. We wondered which patch to examine first and chose the closest. The Younger One scampered up the rocks and saw it first.
We cracked it open to see the treasures hidden inside, the fresh log untouched by the hands of other filthy cachers!
For some reason, the Girls opted not to sign it. Maybe they were too tired. Maybe they were just not interested. Either way, I applied ink, and Bob was our uncle. We returned the way we came, making minor digressions along paths we didn’t originally see or take. The car was a welcome sight. We made our way out of the banality of suburban community planning, and Slurpees served as succor for the sweaty sisters.