It’s Better To Have It And Not Need It…

A couple of days ago, I drove into a wealthier, blander part of town. It’s home to the richest high school in the city. The average student’s car is higher–end than the average teacher’s vehicle, and until recently, they had the third-best football facilities in the state, behind those of the Dallas Cowboys and the UT Longhorns. The school is on a major road around the city, which is populated mainly by entrances to gated communities I would never be able to afford. There are also some office buildings out there, built to capitalize on some of the admittedly stunning views of downtown and the natural beauty of the Texas Hill Country. At one of those office buildings, I found a cache: a fake rock, partially covered in … something (possibly spat-out tobacco, possibly animal scat). Tragically, I was out of wipes. I forgot to get more at the store the last time I went. More importantly, I was out of logs, so when I cracked the fake rock open and found it empty, I had nothing to fill the void with.

Yesterday, I had occasion to drive out to Caldwell, so I stopped at a Lee County cemetery (there always is one) on the way. I found a bison that I was impressed was still there, considering how obvious it was and how close to the church the graveyard was attached to. But as I have often noticed, it’s amazing what people don’t see, both literally and metaphorically, when they’re not looking for it. I unscrewed the container to find a full log with at least two years of names on it (the cache has been there since 2018). I realized that—again—I had no fresh logs to add to the tube, so I was forced to partially write over another cacher’s name—this time less maliciously than others, but still somewhat disrespectfully (at least, I think it’s disrespectful).

I haven’t had to pull out my caching bag in a long time. I haven’t made any serious hikes or needed any tools I didn’t have on hand. (I keep tweezers and a pocketknife in my dash these days.) Consequently, I haven’t kept up with the bag’s stock lately. I traditionally keep logs, but I’m out of them, as well as wipes. My clipboard got water spilled on it somehow, so the pad on it has grown a little moldy, and the ink lines on the pages have bled off. I pulled my ultraviolet flashlight out for something a few weeks ago, and it’s been sitting on my bedside table, waiting to be returned to its place. It’s not enough to maintain the caches you come across. You’ve got to maintain your own equipment, too. Luckily, I use my Maglite just enough to know that the batteries aren’t dead, but would I want to find myself somewhere in the dark and have it not working? That’s a big negative, Ghost Rider.

Normally, I would tell you not to be like me. And I stand by that thought because you should take a moment to check your stuff and be sure that you have the things you might need on the proverbial trail. But I won’t say it this time because I went to the store last night. I bought a gallon of milk, a couple pots of yogurt, and a new package of wipes.