In The Pines, In The Pines

I took a drive to visit the girls in Longview but had to take a detour on the way, and by “detour,” I mean bypass. I performed a minor mitzvah for a friend, carpooling her to see some family in the area. I took one step beyond my usual stopping point in Gregg County to deposit her, safe and sound, with her aunt in Linden. I hadn’t been back since I visited the first time, five years ago, so I can’t tell you if anything had changed; I would have had to stay there for a substantive length of time to remember much of the town in the first place. But I was rewarded for my efforts with a chance at an FTF in the county.

I drove down the highway until I approached my turn. Ready to make a left onto a county road, I was surprised to find a logging road ahead. Suddenly, something made a lot more sense. There was an entire trail of caches along the road. I wondered why none of the more local cachers had gone after it after three weeks of waiting. Knowing they were all hidden in trees along a rough driving trail answered that. I dropped my car into a slightly lower gear and drove into the pines. The ruts were small-but-there as I went forward. I thought that my previous vehicle might not have handled this trail well. When I got to the creek, I knew that it wouldn’t. Luckily, my current vehicle has a higher clearance, so the ruts were fine, and fording was only a moment of consternation. I went through the forest for about two miles until I came to a clearing. Well, it was less a clearing and more of a devastation. Woody detritus was strewn about. Pulled-up stumps lay on their sides. The reason for the FTF being here was clear: loggers had torn the GZ apart. A few minutes of searching brought me my quarry: a glass jar packed with coins, toys, and a fresh, unsullied piece of paper. Inveni, inscripsi, reposui. I then went to log the cache, but reception was terrible in the trees. No matter, though; I would just wait until I got back to the highway. I made the drive back and then logged it, noting the questionable nature of the container. I have said a number of times that glass isn’t the best for a cache, especially with how easily it can break. Unlike previous times, this CO responded to my mention with an explanation. He chose glass specifically because there has been a problem with raccoons and other wild animals chewing up the caches along that trail, and glass resists their efforts. Good thinking, sir! I rescind my criticism!

I continued south for another hunt. One of the towns I needed for I’ve Been Everywhere was on my way back to L-Town, so another minor detour was called for, this time for Kellyville in Marion County. This cache—a pill bottle hidden in a convenient notch in a tree at the site of a long-gone bell foundry—was much easier to come by. Fun fact: Kellyville was named for one of the owners of the foundry! I added a quick smiley to my map and then took a page from those owners. When their factory in Kellyville burned down in 1880, they moved their business to Longview. So did I (metaphorically speaking, of course; there was no arson on this trip). Once I arrived, I got to bed fairly quickly. The girls and I would be up early the next day, and travels would be afoot.