This, THIS is what happens when you let the sweet fruit of velocache die upon the vine:
We rolled up to cache #11 hoping to find whatever Sleaze Otter'z drunks had left behind, 4 weeks past. Unfortunately, the bunker doors on #3 and several others were wide open, and there were rollerbladers, dogwalkers, and other unmentionables lingering around the perimeter. Crestfallen with the amount of humanoid activity, we were not surprised to find #11 rode hard and put away wet. Bunch of dead beers and cookie wrappers.
Being a bunch of green lameweeds, we took our accumulated trash home under the "leave no trace in the abandoned military bunker" mantra. I was secretly hoping a can-mad troll would hit on Katie on the way home for her aluminum goodies, maybe she was too?
The pungent stench of death here turned out NOT to be from the Velocache, and instead was from an ex-sea lion on the beach. Really though, we're splitting hairs.
And a notice to all lurkers and prize-finders: if you have picked up a velocache and not planted a new one, well that's just not proper. Imagine buying a 10-year girl a pony. Imagine then stealing it away and selling it to the circus. I admit that would be funny, be c'mon, hide something somewhere that you know, take some pictures, and let us find it!!!