Yesterday, I went for my daily cache in a suburb I have visited a few times for such purposes. I pulled up to its pool complex, a location familiar to me. A couple of years ago, I found another cache there, one of the older ones in the area, a clever combination locked box that had fallen into disrepair and was open to anyone with the eyes to see and the will to find it (full disclosure: it was no longer that well hidden). Of course, once I find a cache, I rarely think about it again; it was done. Well, I guess that old cache got archived because there was a different one on the other side of the pool house. I found a pile of rocks. Inside that pile of rocks was a fake rock. Inside that fake rock was a bison tube. And inside that bison tube was a logbook. I did what I needed to do and then went on my merry way with two thoughts jostling in my mind.
Thought One: I might not like to admit it, but I was glad the old cache was gone. Sure, it was clever once, and it’s been effectively replaced by not the most interesting or imaginative cache, but I’d much rather see a new, fresh, and—most importantly—maintained cache than some ancient zombie cache limping along. I’m not saying that all old caches are bad. We all know there are a lot of old caches that have become integral to our hobby, especially as Jasmer fillers. But there’s nothing wrong with a new cacher getting a chance to put something new down, and it gets harder to do in cache-dense places where all the good spots have been taken up since Cromwell’s Protectorate.
Thought Two: What is it that brings us back to the same places over and over again? For hiding purposes, I mean. Sure, some spots are going to be especially good for hiding, so it makes sense that someone will return to them when they’re available. Some spots are going to be thematically fitting for certain caches, so they’re going to come back to the fold after they go away. But how many times have I returned to a particular lamppost or a specific tree? One of my more recent hides is a replication of one of the earliest difficult finds I ever made, the only difference being that before, there was a flat magnet, and now I have used a bison on a magnetic hook. Maybe sometimes we feel nostalgia. Maybe sometimes we lack imagination. Maybe sometimes we’re just lazy. That’s OK, though. We do what we can when we can. It’s hardly a flaw.
I drove off. I probably won’t think about this one again. I was done.
Geocaching While Black 