Midwest Geobash 2026 is in the books, and my social battery somehow survived. Barely. We packed up camp in Wauseon, spent a few days surrounded by thousands of people who all willingly crawl through weeds, stare at guardrails, and celebrate finding Tupperware hidden in the woods. To normal people, that sounds like a cry for help. To geocachers, that’s vacation.

The weekend had everything. We hit a geocaching poker run that took us to eight different local businesses hunting caches instead of blowing money on random crap we didn’t need. I crossed the 6,000 finds milestone, which was a pretty damn good feeling after years of chasing plastic containers all over the place. We hung around the pavilion catching up with friends, watched the never-ending line of people waiting for ice cream, and proved once again that geocachers can turn standing in line into a two-hour conversation. There was even a steel beam from one of the Twin Towers on display as a memorial. It was a quiet reminder that some things deserve a moment of respect, even during a weekend that’s mostly about having fun.

When we weren’t caching, we were back at camp sitting around the fire watching the nightly parade of characters. Every campground has them. The guy who has to tell everyone how many caches he’s found before saying hello. The person who packs enough gear to survive the apocalypse. The folks who somehow make a five-minute walk to the bathroom look like an expedition across Antarctica. I swear you could people-watch at Geobash for a week and still not see all the weirdness. That’s half the entertainment.

Now it’s over, and it’s back to alarms, work, and pretending to be a responsible adult. That part sucks. But weekends like Geobash are exactly why I keep coming back. Good friends, great geocaching, campfires, laughs, and enough stories to last until next year. I’d rather spend a weekend wandering through the woods with fellow cache addicts than just about anywhere else. See you at Midwest Geobash 2027.