I arrived at the Roberts County Courthouse just as the first rays of the morning were peeking over the horizon. That meant that the exterior lighting was still on, making it harder to get a good photograph of the building. But I could see that there was construction being done on the dome above. It’s always nice to see these old ladies receiving some tender loving care.
I made a couple of attempts to find a cache in the local area but none of them panned out. Again, I think I was a victim of some kind of regional hide style I wasn’t familiar with and didn’t have the time to figure out. As a side note, one of the caches was a “crumbly beacon.” Beacons again? What the heck are those? That’s not a Texas thing. The good news was that the county was chock full of caches to try. The bad news was that they were mostly placed by the same cacher and, as evidenced by my many failures round Sisseton, they seemed to be a big proponent of that undiscovered and confounding hide style. I decided to take a chance. I normally prefer to find something well within the borders of a county (the inconvenience of traveling all the way to a courthouse has the advantage of ensuring I’m well within the county usually). This time, I went to the outer border of the county to a rest stop. This ended up working out well for several reasons: I thought the cache might be easier since rest stop caches are geared towards travelers, the name of the cache was useful for a challenge I’ve been working one, and because I just like to see rest stops in different states. Texas has great ones along the major highways. Kansas has really nice ones, New Mexico’s are OK, but I’m not in love with them or anything.
As for South Dakota, I have no idea if this is the standard rest stop, but kudos to it.
Anyway, the cache was a pill bottle wired to a fence post. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. And now that I was done, I continued on to my next stop…
…until I noticed that I was so much closer to another on my route. It was only a short distance away. So close … Oh, what the heck! I’d already made one detour that morning. What would another hurt? I turned off again, bound for…
Geocaching While Black 