We drove up the driveway to the final council office, and I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place. It was the correct address, but the great sign outside proclaimed it the “Northeastern Transit District Office.” I went to the front door to be sure I was in the right place, and beneath a placard reidentifying the transit office, in plain white lettering, it read “Northeastern Council of Governments.” And beneath that, in similar white lettering, it read “Animal Shelter.” The needs of the county (or county equivalent) must be served, but that is the dumbest thing I have seen in all my travels thus far. To have the center of administration obscured seems silly. What is the point of administering the council if they are not open to the people they administer? But I guess my judgment is of no concern to them, and rightly so.
Our goal was to cherchez le simple. We swung through a small town on the way to Dayville and stopped at a cache whose description invoked being similar to a TARDIS and turned out to be the remains of an old phone booth. I felt around in the edges, applied some light to the inside, and managed to find a nano waiting. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. And with that, my primary goal of the trip had been accomplished. Connecticut had been trampled beneath my proverbially sandaled feet! We set off for our night’s lodgings. That would involve crossing multiple state boundaries. The others stopped for a cache and a new county, but I demurred. I am quite serious about not claiming counties without visiting the corresponding courthouse. Our fellowship visited several counties where I helped to find caches I would not ultimately log for that reason. But that didn’t mean we didn’t make a little detour into…
Geocaching While Black 