Travel

Viva Las Vegas!

Posted on April 7, 2013 by A Desperate Horsewife

I have not written a blog in over a month. I feel bad about that; not that people are missing out by not getting regular information about the nuances of my life, but because it is a symptom of a more pervasive and over-riding neglect of other areas of my life.

You see, I have been very pre-occupied with an ambitious goal since the first of the year. I readily admit that many areas of my life have lost focus and attention while I prepared.

Let me explain. And I warn you now, this isn’t a short story.

I have previously blogged about my cute little red mare, Freckles, who we bought as a someday-for-Annabelle horse last fall. I wrote about my first attempts to get her shown last October at the Idaho Reined Cow Horse Derby at the Idaho Center, and about how much I realized I missed showing after I returned to the pen following a nearly eight-year hiatus. I wrote about how getting that mare added something back into my life that I hadn’t realized was gone, and how much more fulfilled I was every day I got to ride her.

I OPEN MY BIG MOUTH

In addition to all that writing about my horse, I had done plenty of talking. I told everyone who would listen about my plans to enter the National Reined Cow Horse Association Stallion Stakes, one of the organization’s Premier Events, which was to be held in the South Point Hotel and Equestrian Center in Las Vegas this year.

Although I talked about this show for the past months, I wasn’t really sure if I would be able to enter it. As a Premier show, the entry fee is steep; the show takes place over several days, and the schedule for my class stretched over three days of individual events necessitating nearly a week of travel no matter how well I planned it. The competition would likely be more accomplished and certainly more current in their show experience than I.

It was kind of a crazy idea.

But, like a lot of crazy ideas, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had heard of how wonderful the South Point facility was. I had heard tales of valets who come with carts to unload your tack and accessories from your horse trailer and move it with your hay to the stalls for you. How the entire equestrian area, from the stalls to the multiple arenas, is climate-controlled and kept at a constant temperature of 70 degrees. Best of all, the stalls and show arenas are all within the hotel and casino – all of the equine facilities are housed underneath the building. You can leave your hotel room, hop on the elevator and go feed your horse in your slippers. If you don’t feel like leaving the room, you can watch the competition on closed-circuit television while lying in your hotel bed. To top it off the hotel has a world-class spa.

It sounded like heaven.

THE ROAD TO THE STAKES

In January I made the first move toward my goal when I asked my longtime friend and former trainer, Jake Telford, if I could move my horse to his training facility, which is just a few miles from our home. Freckles was receiving excellent care and reined work training at the barn where she lived in Kuna, but I found it difficult to get out and ride her very often because of the nearly two-hour round trip commute. Moreover, and even more importantly, if I wanted to enter a reined cow horse event I needed to practice on cattle. A lot.

Jake graciously agreed to board my mare and give me lessons to help me prepare for the show. As an NRCHA Million Dollar Rider and the highest money-earning rider in the National Reined Cow Horse Association for the past three years, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to mentor me as I prepared to officially re-enter competition.

It took a few weeks for me to get it together, but in mid-February I moved Freckles over and started our training.

IT ALMOST ENDS BEFORE IT STARTS

The first day I arrived at Telford Training I very nearly turned around and left. I got Freckles out of the trailer and saddled her, and took her into the indoor arena where Jake and his help were working cattle. There were several people loping horses around, including Annabelle, who I had brought over to ride Grumpy, and Jake’s two young daughters on their horses. A few two-year old colts were tied to the outside of the arena, and as they played and pawed the tarps covering the arena panels crackled and billowed.

Freckles was a little fresh, to say the least, and nearly jumped out from under me a couple of times. She was clearly very interested in the sounds of the cattle coming from the other half of the arena where Jake was working his horses. I was thinking to myself “It is definitely going to take several days of riding around here for me to get Freckles acclimated and settled down before I will be comfortable enough to ask Jake for a lesson.”

No sooner than that thought crossed my mind then Jake yelled across the arena “Come on in Paula, and work a cow!”

I felt faint.

I had stopped showing eight years ago after a bad fall while working a cow on this very property, and the last time I had worked in October I very nearly came off during the boxing portion of my derby work. And when I say I very nearly came off, I mean I VERY NEARLY CAME OFF. I realized the kindness of our new little mare that day, when I was hanging off of her left side by her mane and she stopped long enough for me to regain my seat before she addressed the cow again.

I rode into the cutting pen with quivering hands and tears in my eyes. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how much fear I had left over from my previous experiences. We cut a cow off from the herd, and Freckles engaged it with energetic enthusiasm. She ran across the pen, the cow stopped and Freckles wheeled and bolted after it. If I hadn’t been holding onto the saddle horn I would have come off.

The rest of the lesson was pretty much more of the same. Jake told me that we really needed to work on my mare’s stops; she was extremely hard to ride because she wasn’t engaging her hindquarters on those turns. Once we got her schooled up to property turn over her hocks she would be much easier to sit as she worked.

I don’t think Jake realized it that day, but I was intimidated and very disappointed. When I got home I told Desperate Hubby that I had probably made a big mistake. I told him that every time I ran across that pen all I could think about was falling off.

DH knows me pretty well. He knows Jake pretty well. He told me that I should admit to my friend just how frightened I was and see if he could help me. “No,” I told him miserably. “Jake doesn’t have time to help me at all, really, and he sure doesn’t have time to counsel me.”

I would just persevere.

So persevere I did. I rode at the barn every weekday, working a cow more days than not. For nearly two weeks I had nightmares about falling off. I would lie awake in bed every single night and visualize a correct and safe cow work before I went to sleep. At first it didn’t help at all, but increasingly my visualization was successful. Some nights I would sleep all night without one bad dream waking me in a cold sweat.

One morning I woke up and realized that I was fixed. For whatever reason, I wasn’t scared anymore. It was literally an epiphany! When I rode into the barn that morning I told Jake the good news. He smiled politely and said “Good, get over here and work a cow.” He didn’t seem all that impressed by my announcement. But I rode a lot better that day.

I don’t know if my trainer ever knew just how scared I was to dive into the cow work when I first started back riding with him. Whether he did or not, his approach to getting me back into the hang of it was perfect. He started slowly, getting a little progress each day and never letting me quit unless it was on a good note. Each day he built on what I had achieved the days before until I had the confidence to really enjoy the sport that I had once loved so much.

Things got a lot more fun after that.

I rode every single week day for the next week. Freckles got better and better at working a cow; and I got more confident with every passing day and successful work. With the entry date approaching for the Stakes, I asked Desperate Hubby what he thought. The show was over Annabelle’s spring break. Should I just go for it and take her with me? Or maybe just go watch and get the lay of the land?

Part of me wanted to take a “real” vacation, maybe stop by the Grand Canyon on the way to down to the show, then really take it easy once I got there…..sleep in, go the spa and share the sites of Vegas with Annabelle. Although horse shows are fun, a show of this caliber would be demanding. I had visions of middle-of-the-night schooling sessions followed by early morning warm-ups and waiting around for my class until mid-day, then cleaning stalls and preparing my horse for the event the next day before falling into bed exhausted early every evening. Would I enjoy that as much as just going to watch?

I knew DH thought I should enter, but I was reticent. What if I wasn’t ready? What if I had a relapse and fell off in the middle of the cow work? In the end, though, I did enter. I firmly believe that what you think about (and talk about) happens, and all I had thought about for months was going to this show.

So go we did.

DAY ONE: ARE WE THERE YET?

We rode with our friend Kris, the same generous soul who had loaned Annabelle her horse Chic to use all last year in her horse shows. Kris would also be showing a mare in my same class, and she looked pretty happy as we left. I don’t think she realized at that point that I would be content to sit over in the passenger seat for the entire trip there eating chips and drinking diet coke while she drove.

Annabelle was very excited to get on the road, and immediately set about watching a movie on the DVD player that Aunt Susie had loaned us for the trip. She interrupted her movies every ten minutes or so to inquire about the continued longevity of the trip.

We had persuaded our friend (and Batman’s girlfriend) Kristi, to come along with us and have a vacation herself, as well as keeping Annabelle entertained when I was busy riding.

She was a little camera shy at first.

We made it to Vegas in fair time, stopping along the way at several points for fuel and potty stops. As it turned out, we traveled in a sort of unofficial caravan, as we ran into Jake and his family and helpers at nearly every stop as well as pacing along with some friends from Washington who were also headed to the Stakes. It was a nice drive.

Our arrival at the hotel was met with a short line of trailers in front of us waiting to be unloaded. We bemoaned our timing at being behind Jake, who with two trailers and sixteen or so horses would be awhile unloading. True to the lore, though, the hotel had several staff members who were bustling about with trolleys and carts, and between Jake and his family and helpers they were unloaded in less than an hour. We were working on unloading at the same time, and with the help of a couple of the porters our hay, tack, and tack room supplies were all quickly transported to our stalls

We were able to check into our hotel rooms right at the stall office, and a bellman driving a big gator-type four-wheeler loaded up our copious bags and delivered them to our rooms.

Kris had everything we needed for a nice tack room setup, including a refrigerator, tables and chairs, saddle racks and enough hooks to hang all of our stuff plus more. She also brought along a nice selection of quality wine. I realized at once how lucky we were to share her stuff (and her generosity).

Our tack room was sort of a combination tack room/lounge/wine bar. It suited me perfectly!

DAY TWO: GETTING INTO THE PEN

I woke up early on Monday morning, anxious to get downstairs and ride Freckles. Jake was down there riding already, and he gave me tips and schooled me a bit in the busy arena to help me get ready for the next day. When I finished the girls took Freckles over for a nice long bath.

I’m not really sure who was wetter at the end of the bath, but Freckles was certainly clean and shiny!

Annabelle pulled the step up to her in the stall and went to work combing out her mane.

I was delighted to hear from Aaron, Freckles’ former owner and the person responsible for putting such a great training foundation on her. He and his wife Rebecca were there in Vegas, and they wanted to come and see Freckles. We met them and they walked to the stall with us. It was immediately evident that Freckles remembered her former owner. She put her head on him and snuggled up.

He seemed pretty happy to see her too, and I even convinced him to ride her a little that afternoon.

He got on and walked her slowly around the pen. Then he started bending her this way and that, and backed her up a long ways. Although he didn’t even have spurs on, he softened Freckles up considerably and she was noticeably more responsive with just a short thirty minute ride. It was impressive.

The girls and I spent some time cleaning up our tack and finalizing choices of shirts and saddle pads for the next day. That night we had an early dinner at the Italian place in our hotel, and got to bed so we could wake up for the next day.

DAY THREE: I SURVIVE THE HERD WORK

Tuesday would mark my first day of competition. I got up and headed down to the stalls early to get saddled and get into the cattle practice pen for my priority warm-up. At these major shows they bring in extra cattle to practice on, and each contestant in the herd work (also known as cutting) is allowed a slot to practice working cows before their competition. Your practice slot is generally two sets of herd work before you go, so that made my work sometime in the 8:00 hour.

Jake was down at the pens to help me, and he told me to go get checked in for my priority work. A contestant is not required to use their time slot, and if you don’t check in for your proper set you may lose your chance to another person who is showing later and who checks in early. I checked in only to find that my practice was going to be quite a bit earlier than I had planned. I hurriedly loped around for fifteen minutes before it was my turn, which was when Jake gave me some valuable advice that, while logical, had never been intuitive to me:

“When you only have half as much time to warm up; you need to lope twice as fast.”

It worked. I got Freckles warmed up and we had a very successful practice session. I felt confident and ready to go when I met my team by the in-gate to head into my first competition. Annabelle got busy doing a final tail brushing under Kristi’s watchful eye.

When I was all ready to go we posed for a picture. Note the large sign over my shoulder. I didn’t notice that sign once while I was there, though I rode through that same alley multiple times to practice and to show. It wasn’t until I was editing pictures for this blog that I read it. Dang. Could have used that advice last week!

The herd work event is when you enter the arena where a herd of cattle is held in place by four helpers who are there to help you get your horse shown to the best advantage. Your task is to cut one cow at a time out of the herd, and show your horse’s ability to manage that cow and keep it from rejoining its friends who are behind you.

I am pretty inexperienced at herd work, and though it looks deceptively easy it can be a challenge to make sure your horse is always in the right place at the right time and that you manage your time effectively in order to get two or preferably three cattle out of the herd to work during your allotted two-and-a-half minutes.

Freckles was very good entering the herd, and stayed quiet and engaged. we managed to get three cattle cut and worked before the buzzer went off to signify the end of our session. As I rode out of the arena one of my herd helpers, Ted Robinson, a legend in the reined cow horse industry and long-time acquaintance, said “Good job Paula. You’ll be the new leader!” That made me smile.

Unfortunately Ted wasn’t the judge.

But still, as my class ended I was in the middle of the pack, seven points down from the leading score. I was thrilled. Although I had made some big mistakes in my cattle management, I had not “lost” any cows and my horse had performed very well.

I was joined after I rode by Aaron, Freckle’s former owner, who was also very happy with her performance. He stood and watched the rest of the herd with me until my class was over.

Annabelle climbed on Freckles and cooled her out. She was just dying to ride, and completely un-intimidated by the professional riders buzzing around the warm-up arena beside her. It was pretty cute.

After she was finished cooling out Freckles, my girl got busy cleaning up our stall alley, sweeping up shavings and hay so we had a neat entry to our space. She is good help when she wants to be.

Watching my herd work video later was a great training opportunity to actually see what it was Jake kept talking to me about with regard to position, position, position (or in my case out-of-position, out-of-position, out-of-position, and WATCH the COW!!) I learned a lot that I hope will help me in my future showing endeavors.

LIONS AND TIGERS AND DOLPHINS, OH MY!!!

That afternoon the girls and I headed out to our first “Vacation” endeavor – a visit to the Mirage Hotel and Casino for a look at the famous white tigers. We bought tickets to the “Secret Garden” at the Mirage, and spent a couple of hours looking around at all the animals. The facility is beautiful, and the animal displays were fascinating for both of my young traveling companions (and me too).

These white lions greeted us as we entered the display. They were sound asleep, but woke up long enough to give us a once-over before dozing off again.

There was a cheetah display, with a few of the sleek felines moseying around the exhibit.

Next came the dolphins. There were a couple of big pools connected by a waterway, and we were able to catch two “Training Sessions” where the dolphins were put through their paces by the trainers to the awe and joy of the crowd.

You could get right up beside the pool where the dolphins could see you, and they were surprisingly social creatures, appearing over and over again to rise out of the water and “smile” at the guests in their house.

And they did some jumping tricks too, which were cool.

After we left the Mirage we headed back to the hotel, where we joined up with the group for an early dinner at the Asian restaurant. I had sushi (supposed to be good luck before a horse show, I’ve heard) and then we were to bed early again to get ready for the next event.

DAY FOUR: I GET IN TOUCH WITH MY INNER REINER

The next event I would compete in was the reining, or “dry work” as it is called in the reined cow horse vernacular. This is where you enter the arena and perform a series of prescribed maneuvers – circling, sliding to a stop, spinning, all in a specific pattern. I don’t know why it is called the dry work….maybe because some cow horse people think it’s boring? Because there is no cow poop? I’m not sure, but I was excited to get out there and give it a go.

I was up at 3:30am to get in the practice arena to school Freckles and then get her fed. I ran into Jake just as he was finished riding his own dozen or so horses, and he insisted on coming to help me school before he headed up to his own room to get some sleep. He really is a great guy.

I practiced for an hour and a half or so, then headed back up to the room to get ready to show. I dressed in my official sparkly “reiner” shirt and hoped it would give me luck.

Jake helped me to warm up again and gave me a few tips on preparing my horse right before I went into the arena. Aaron also joined me and gave me moral support before I headed in to show.

Freckles was a gem in the reined work. I rode a little slower than I should have, and might have scored higher if I’d been more aggressive, but in the end I had the second highest reined work score (by half a point) and moved up to second place in the cumulative standings. I don’t know if it was me or Aaron who was happier with Freckles that afternoon. I gave her a big pile of hay and some extra shavings before we headed off to our next vacation adventure.

WE VISIT VENICE AND I TRY TO MARRY KRISTI OFF

That afternoon we cleaned up and headed over to the Venetian, my favorite place to stay in Las Vegas, to take part in a tourist activity I had never before indulged in during all my trips to Vegas: A Gondola Ride.

We wandered around the beautiful shopping area that is decorated like the streets of Venice, stopping to pick up a couple of cones of chocolate-covered strawberries.

YUM!

Our gondola ride was very fun, and I kept teasing Kristi about being on a date with the gondolier. He thought that was pretty funny too.

Once he found out she was of-age, that is.

Annabelle and I snuggled on the other side of the bench, as she asked a million questions about how deep the water was, what would happen if we fell in, could she swim in it…… that sort of thing.

We enjoyed ourselves so much that we actually purchased the official picture of all of us in the gondola with Kristi’s date.

After the gondola ride we went to Postrio, which used to be one of my favorite restaurants in San Francisco, and had some delicious Italian food. I had a sushi-like Ahi tower (couldn’t hurt, right?) and the girls had pizza and macaroni and cheese. Kristi taught Annabelle to play tic-tac-toe, and they played happily together until my darling six-year-old figured out how to cheat.

Then it was home and in bed again, not as early as the previous nights, but there was only one event to go.

DAY FIVE: IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THE COW

The last event of the three-pronged competition was the Cow Work. In this event you enter the arena and a single cow is turned in with you. For my class, you are required to approach that cow and work it back and forth on the fence at the short end of the arena. Your horse should work as independently as possible, and once again position and execution are very important in the scoring of the run.

There is a saying in the reined cow horse world that “It all comes down to the cow.” The cow work is always the last event you complete that contributes to your cumulative score, and the stories are legion of competitors going into the cow work with a seemingly unbeatable lead, only to draw a cow that does not allow them to score even the minimal number of points they need in order to secure their win.

You want to draw a cow that is active and wild enough for your horse to show their skills, while being just manageable enough that you don’t lose him or get beat by his speed.

Freckles worked amazingly well that morning in our cow work preferred warm-up. She was quick, light in the face and I had no doubt we were ready for our competition. I was only three points behind the leader after making up the points in the reined work, so I was prepared to do my best. It was anyone’s game.

I trotted into the arena, nodding my head at the gate-man at the far end where our cow would be released. The gate opened and Freckles gave a little jump and twist of her head in excitement.

A small black steer trotted out. He looked pretty good!

I rode up and engaged him, but I couldn’t seem to get him moving. I could hear Jake yelling at me to get up there and move him, and though I did the best I could at the time, we came out of the cow work with a far lower score than I had hoped for. Still, I was happy with my horse. As I watched the video later, I could see that there was more I could have done to get that cow moving, and I also had a pretty big “miss” when I looked away from the cow for just a second and he beat me and Freckles in a turn. Once again I learned a ton from watching that video and I am excited to apply it at my next show.

Overall, I was very happy with our performance. We ended up third in our class, and got Freckle’s first official earnings: $870!! It was a thrill!

I HAVE HELP CELEBRATING FROM MY CALIFORNIA FRIENDS

The best part of my day was not over yet. As soon as I was finished showing, we met up with my friends Sandy and Tony who were coming to Vegas to celebrate their anniversary and attend a friend’s 50th anniversary celebration. We’d last seen my friends this past summer when they came to Idaho and rafted and rodeoed with us in August.

We had lunch with them and it was great to catch up. A little later we met them in the lounge to watch some horse show action and have a few drinks.

They looked awesome!

We got to spend the afternoon with Tony and Sandy, then had dinner with them and the rest of the group. It was so fun to see them, and I wish I’d had more free time to spend visiting with them.

DAY SIX: A HECTIC FAREWELL TO VEGAS

We got up Friday morning with several things on our mind. Kristi had some shopping she wanted to do. We needed to fuel up the truck to leave early the next morning; and I had a plan to go to the spa. I had heard tales of the wonderful spa at the South Point, and after my busy week I needed a massage. The girls wanted to try out the salon pedicure (a first for both of them), and to top it all off we had tickets that evening for the Tournament of Kings show at the Excalibur.

The day seemed like a whirlwind, but we got it all done. The spa was fantastic, the girls loved their Pedi’s, and we got everything done just in time to get dressed for our evening entertainment: the famous jousting exhibition at the Knights of the Roundtable arena.

I took this (not very good) photo before I saw the “Absolutely No Photography or Video” sign……honest.

It was really cool.

We had a great time at the show. It was very theatrical, and involved lots of half-naked men and fireworks. Really, I’m not making that up.

Oh, and there were cool horses too.

We got back to our rooms exhausted, to pack and get to bed before our 6:30am meeting time to load up the trailer and hit the road.

Despite all the fun we had had that week, we were ready to head home. The non-stop go-go-go schedule hit us all hard. Kristi had a terrible headache and sinus pain. The air at the South Point is notorious for being highly allergenic, and we all suffered from it. Our friend took a big dose of Nyquil and was out.

I was trying to watch the bridle horse competition on TV while I packed, and my little angel Annabelle had a complete and total meltdown. “Turn the TV off!!” she wailed, “turn it OFF!!!” I tried to calm her down, but her wails just got louder.

I turned the TV off, as well as the light beside the bed, and she started up again. “Turn it back ON Mama!!” This continued for half an hour or so, before she drifted into a fitful sleep. My dreams of meeting Sandy and Tony for a farewell cocktail faded into the twilight. I finished packing and headed to bed myself.

DAY SEVEN: AN UNEVENTFUL RIDE HOME

I was up at 4:30am for a final round of packing, and we had our bags picked up and were down at the stalls to load the trailer at 6:30. The load-out went quickly, despite the lack of porters at that early hour, and we were on the road by 7:30. We made good time going home, and once again Kris was nice enough to drive the whole way while I sat in the passenger seat and ate candy. She is a gem.

We made it home in good time, and I managed to get the kids into bed at an early enough hour that the Easter Bunny still had a chance to arrive. Easter morning started with my six year old traveler bursting into our room at 7:30, crying because the Easter Bunny had brought her brother a larger basket than he had brought to her.

Ah, it was good to be home.

By the way, if you are still awake and curious to see the video of my three runs, you can watch them here:

2013 NRCHA Stallion Stakes: Dox Smart

I would be remiss if I didn’t extend a big thanks to everyone who helped me in my quest to go to literally “get back on the horse”. Although my accomplishment is minute in the big scheme of the horse show world, to me it is literally life-changing to be able to once again embrace and truly enjoy something that I love to do so much.

I have to start with Desperate Hubby, who supported me wholeheartedly in my goal and took on numerous extra household and child management activities during my preparation for and execution of “The Road to the Stakes.”

Nathan Kent with Nathan Kent Performance Horses out of Lucky Run Arena in Kuna was instrumental in getting my horse solid enough in the reining that I could get her shown despite my nerves and horse-show rustiness. He spent a lot of time showing me how to capitalize on what he had taught Freckles, and though I obviously didn’t absorb everything he showed me, I appreciate every minute.

I am grateful to all of my friends, both horse and non-horse people, who encouraged me to get back into the sport I love so much. Whether you loaned me tack, took care of my kids or were there with a sympathetic ear, it all helped me get through the process. To Super-Nanny Kristi…..I can’t say enough.

Last but not least, I want to thank Jake and Jessie Telford of Telford Training. Without the support and guidance from Jake I would have never even considered trying to ride a cow horse again. Your generosity of time and allowing me to share your beautiful facility, cattle, talent and experience means the world to me.

Categories: Horse Adventures, Kids Are Funny Creatures, Travel, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Bon Voyage to the Fiechters!

Posted on August 31, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

I first met my friend Christine a little over a year ago. As I started to write this story I had to go back and check my horse paperwork for the exact date, because it seems that I have known her for much longer than that.

Christine was referred to me by our mutual friend and veterinarian, Billy Maupin. She had a pony that her sons had almost outgrown and she was thinking about selling him. I had mentioned at the veterinarian office that I was looking for a horse or pony for Annabelle. Billy put two and two together, and Christine gave me a call.

I almost didn’t go to look at the pony because he was more money than I wanted to pay, but out of respect for Billy I made what I thought was a courtesy call to check him out. I liked Christine as soon as I met her, and I thought Reno was the cutest little black pony I had ever dreamed of (literally, but that’s a story for another time). To my happy surprise, Christine offered to lower Reno’s price to my exact maximum budget (without me even asking) and a deal was made.

Reno and Annabelle hit it off immediately, and it was hard to tell who was happier, my little blond girl or her fuzzy black new best friend.

I sent Christine a few follow-up photos so she could see how well Annabelle and Reno were getting along, and a couple of months later we arranged to go ride together in the Boise foothills.

That ride was the beginning of a great friendship. We rode together many times over the course of the next year. As Annabelle says “Mom, we wouldn’t know ANYWHERE to go if it wasn’t for Christine.”

We went for long rides together at Avimor.

I did a couple of rides with Christine and her friend Valerie too.

Christine is one of the those people who can best be described as, well, competent. I know the word competent doesn’t sound very glamorous, but it should. Annabelle soon refused to go with me to any new place to ride without Christine, because Christine always carries a gun and she never, ever gets lost.

She is also quick to take charge of any situation, and to help as needed to get things ironed out. Like adjusting Annabelle’s saddle before descending down a steep trail, for example.

After we had ridden together a few times, Christine invited me to join her Ladies’ Marksmanship Group, a small group of women who meet monthly to practice shooting handguns at a local range.

Although I hadn’t shot for years, I felt comfortable going with Christine. She helped me load my gun, set up the target, and reminded me of the proper grip and sighting sequence to be able to hit what I was aiming at. Sometimes.

Just look at her. You can tell she knows what she’s doing!

It wasn’t long after I met Christine that she mentioned in conversation she and her husband Mark and their two boys, Logan and Cole, were avid sailors. She told me that she and Mark planned to spend their retirement on a sailboat, sailing in the Bahamas.

A few months after that, Christine casually mentioned that they were thinking of moving their sailing adventure up in time. From that conversation forward, it seemed that every time we spoke the sailing date was scheduled to arrive sooner and sooner.

I knew that this whole plan was real when Christine put her lovely horse Loretta up for sale, and sold both the mare and her horse trailer early this spring.

Christine really loved this horse, so when she let Loretta go I was sure there was no turning back.

The planning process for taking on an adventure the size of the Fiechter’s is mind-boggling. Christine methodically began the process of making lists and spreadsheets; selling excess belongings and learning the basics of home- (or boat-) schooling for Logan and Cole. Her husband Mark began the arduous and time-consuming task of traveling to Florida to check out boats for sale, while still continuing to work at his long-time engineering job at Micron Technologies.

Through it all, Christine made time to keep riding with me and Annabelle. Once she sold Loretta, she began riding my mare Spice, and we continued to go to our old haunts together, with Annabelle on Reno and me nudging along old Grumpy.

On each ride we would get the update on progress toward the trip. My respect for Christine grew and grew as I slowly began to understand the complexity of the undertaking this family was preparing for.

I have never known anyone who completely turned their life upside down to follow a dream. Well, that’s not exactly true. I do know people who did that, several of them, but not people like the Fiechters.

The Fiechters are some of the most conservative, responsible and pragmatic people I have ever met. The fact that they are willing to disrupt their structured, predictable, and carefully planned life for this adventure speaks volumes about their dedication to following their long-time aspiration.

That dedication is something that I find awe-inspiring. I am thrilled to even know people who are just so freaking cool, and even more thrilled to call them friends.

The other thing I find extraordinary about this plan is how much it involves the whole family. The Fiechter’s two boys, Logan and Cole, are wholeheartedly on board (couldn’t resist, sorry) and are so very excited about experiencing the world as few people ever get a chance to do.

Besides their home, school and friends, two things the boys have to leave behind are their beloved guinea pigs, Snowy and Zoe. Christine emailed me a month or so ago and said that they needed a temporary home for the girls. After a quick consultation with DH I said yes. I held off on telling Annabelle and Zach for a while, since I knew they would bug me non-stop, and sure enough, once I sprung the good news they pretty much nagged me ten times a day about when their new house-guests would be arriving.

Zach calls our house-guests “Skinny Pigs,” and has done so since he first heard their names. Annabelle tried and tried to get him to say the name ‘Guinea Pigs’ correctly, but she finally gave up on trying to correct his grammar and has taken to calling them Skinny Pigs as well. Just like me.

This last Sunday the Fiechter’s came over to deliver the girlies. My kids had decided to get rid of Zach’s bed (italics intended) so the guinea pigs could sleep in the same room with them. If you have read my blog much before, you already know that Zach has refused to sleep in his own bed for several months anyway, and instead sleeps on the end of his sister’s queen bed. Like a dog. So getting rid of his bed was not as big of a deal as one might expect.

Here is a picture of the cage sitting where my little boy’s bed formerly resided.

And here is a picture of the kids holding the pigs. They are the first thing the kids play with every morning and the last thing they say goodnight to before bed.

If you have never been around Skinny Pigs before you are missing out. They are the funniest little pets I’ve ever seen. They are totally tuned in to their humans, and figure out right away who does what. When I walk down the hall, Snowy stands up on the bars of her cage and squeals at me. It sounds kind of like a cross between a ground squirrel and a mouse, and occurs in rapid succession until I stop in and say hi. Or better yet, deliver a couple of carrots or grapes for a snack.

We are thrilled to have the pigs for the time their real humans are traveling. Being the planner she is, Annabelle has already procured a verbal contract with me to purchase her and her brother their own Skinny Pigs when Snowy and Zoe return home. I am sure, since she is now in kindergarten, that a written contract will be required once she learns how to write all the words.

I stole the Skinny Pigs real owners’ pictures off of their blogs. They really are super cute kids. And extremely smart.

Here is Logan.

And his brother Cole.

Our Marksmanship Group held a little goodbye party for the Fiechters last week at our friend Katie’s house. Seeing the genuine respect and support that was exuded for this wonderful family by each and every person there made it obvious that I am not alone in my strong admiration of my friends.

There were not one but two cakes.

Thoughtful gifts.

And much camaraderie shared.

Christine and Mark and the boys set off today for their grand adventure. Their house is packed and will soon be rented out. Almost all of their belongings are in a storage unit awaiting their return.

My friends will slowly make their way to Florida, where their 37” Hunter Sailboat, Truansea, awaits them. Isn’t that an awesome name, Truansea? Sometime in late fall the family will set sail for the Bahamas. For at least the next year they plan to live aboard the boat and experience a side of life rarely seen by us mere mortals.

I am so jealous.

But I am also happy that they are planning on documenting their travels in a blog. It is already up and running, at www.truansea.com. I encourage you to follow their adventures too. I think we can all learn something from people with the courage to so passionately pursue a dream.

Mark and I share a favorite quote, which he has on his blog page and I will steal and put here. I think it best sums up the spirit of the days ahead of them.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Mark Twain

Fair winds, my friends. We will surely miss you.

Categories: Horse Adventures, Travel | 3 Comments

California Comes to Idaho

Posted on August 29, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

A couple of weeks ago our family was thrilled by a visit from some old friends of mine from “back in-the-day”. I have known Tony and Sandy for something well over fifteen years. I don’t like to think about exactly how long because it makes me feel old, but it’s been a long time. I met Tony first, when I went to work at a company in Alameda, California called Ascend Communications. Sandy came along a couple of years later, and she fit right in with our eclectic group of friends. So well, in fact, that she and Tony were married a short time later.

Ascend was a small start-up company when I began, with only about fifteen employees. As was the case with most of the Silicon Valley start-ups, we were a close-knit group, bonding over “Friday Feast” (a big company-sponsored drunk-fest held every Friday afternoon in the company break room) and lunches out at the excellent Thai or Sushi restaurants the small town of Alameda offered. With the mega-hours we spent at work, you would think that the employees would avoid each other in their rare off-hours, but that wasn’t the case. Our group spent lots of time together outside the office too, mountain biking and hiking in the summer and skiing or taking a trip to Mexico together in the winter.

We all worked during a spectacular time in the Silicon Valley. Our company went public on a Friday the 13th, 1994 at $13 a share (and I still think 13 is a really lucky number). Shortly after our IPO we all enjoyed the meteoric rise of our stock, and the commensurate disposable income afforded both to us individually and as company employees. The days of first class airline travel, five-star hotels and competitions over who could order the most expensive port and cigars were legend, and they will surely never be repeated in most of our lives. It was definitely an over-the-top time.

I left Ascend in 1997, and Sandy and Tony retired within a year or two after that. Our company had grown to a world-wide company with thousands of employees, and it was no longer the familiar and cohesive place to work it once had been. I moved to Idaho, where I met Desperate Hubby and got married for the first time at age 36. Sandy and Tony built their dream house in Pismo Beach on California’s central coast, and started splitting their time between there, a mountain cabin, and their home in Mexico.

We hadn’t seen each other in all these years, so I was wildly excited when I got a message via Facebook that they were planning a tour of the Northwest and wanted to stop by for a visit.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I also had a few trepidations about my friends’ stay. Since I moved back to Idaho my life has changed dramatically, in all ways for the better, but I was a long way from the lithe blonde driving down Interstate 80 blasting country music in my Porsche Cabriolet that my friends had known. I am truly happier than I have ever been, but my current life offers few of the trappings that I felt were important way-back-when.

Would they find me frumpy, I wondered? Boring?

I set about planning a schedule of activities for my friends’ visit that would introduce them to some of the wonderful things that our great state has to offer, and give them a taste of the ridiculously awesome life that I am fortunate to enjoy.

Annabelle and I were flying home from Seattle the same evening Sandy and Tony arrived, and we would start the trip off with picking them up for a whitewater rafting trip at 7:30 the next morning.

As soon as I pulled into the hotel roundabout and saw my old friends sitting on the bench outside the door all of my nervousness flew right out the window.

Just take a look at them! You can see how down-to-earth and wonderful they are with only a glance.

When they climbed into the truck it was as if I had seen them just yesterday. Sandy sat in the backseat between Batman and Annabelle, and they were jabbering away a mile a minute before we even hit the highway. Tony and I started getting caught up with all the events in each other’s lives as though it had been days instead of years.

The drive to Cascade Raft Company flew by as we all talked a mile a minute in the car. We got checked in and loaded up in the rafting bus for the short drive to our launch site. After being fitted with our life jackets, aboard the raft we climbed.

I admit I was a little nervous about the rafting trip. I had had a (literal) near-death experience while rafting some years ago in California, and I hadn’t been on a boat much since. Our guide was Jeremy, who is co-incidentally the son of one of the local well-known equine veterinarians who had helped me with my horses tremendously over the years. Jeremy was personable and competent, and that helped us all relax and have a good time.

And have a good time we did!

The kid started off in the back of the raft, sitting on the middle supports. They thought that was pretty swell.

Then Jeremy convinced them to move up front where they could get more action from the waves. They both gamely climbed up and really enjoyed the next couple of rapids.

Until this happened. Yep, they’re there. Up in front. Completely submerged in whitewater.

I think the look on Batman’s face afterwards pretty much says it all. The kids politely asked to return to the back of the boat, where they rode out the rest of the trip in a little more controlled fashion.

We counted our rafting experience a big success, and after a hearty lunch in Eagle, we headed back to Caldwell to get ready for our next event. The Caldwell Night Rodeo.

The evening activity was Desperate Hubby’s first chance to meet Tony, and they hit it off immediately.

The kids took the opportunity to work on our dentist’s retirement fund with a little cotton candy. Batman looks a little sugar-crazed, no?

We all had a great time at the rodeo, and then returned to our house for a few more stories and cocktails. I’m not sure exactly what time my friends headed back to the hotel, but suffice to say that we celebrated their arrival with great zeal.

The next morning arrived earlier than any of us were really ready for. Tony was scheduled for a flying lesson with Greg’s instructor, Darren, and I had to rouse Desperate Hubby out of bed shortly before eight o-clock to go and introduce the two.

Desperate Hubby had work to do, so Batman hung out with him while Sandy, Annabelle and I went to Eagle Island State Park for a nice horseback ride.

I’ve always known Sandy’s email name to be Samantha Cowgirl, and she lived up to it that day. Despite not riding a horse for the past twenty-something years, she climbed up on Grumpy like a pro and we set off. She looked like some sort of cowgirl movie star up on old Grump. She even had the hat!

We had a beautiful ride along the trail, over bridges and through a variety of summer foliage.

Grumpy tested out Sandy’s skills by stopping to eat and refusing to budge a couple of times, but she lined him right out and they got along great for the rest of the trip.

When we finished riding, some shopping was in order. After a quick stop by Costco we were set for a big barbecue dinner.

With a special guest. It was our adored neighbor Grandpa Vernon’s birthday, and somehow we had convinced him and Kay to share the evening with us. He even made us a fantastic peach pie.

And a small banana cream one for Annabelle.

She is so spoiled.

Sorry about the picture Vernon. I didn’t get one with your eyes open. I know you hate having your picture in the blog anyway, and I’m sure this doesn’t help! You’re still handsome, though.

Our dinner was filled with lively conversation, great food provided by Desperate Hubby and Grandpa Vernon, and grand stories about Tony’s first time piloting a small aircraft.

Sandy and Tony and I had the chance to get all caught up on everybody from our past life, and I was so happy to hear how all of my old friends were doing. It had been easy to imagine that everyone’s lives had stayed exactly the same once I left the great state of California, and it was great to hear that everyone (well, most everyone, with a couple of notable exceptions) had grown up and settled down to one degree or another.

After another late night, we were all tired the next day. Tony and Sandy took the opportunity to do some laundry, take a nap and get ready for the next stage of their travels, and we reconvened for an early dinner at Smokey Mountain Pizza.

I’m not entirely sure what Tony is talking about in this picture. Let’s just say it is a fishing story.

When we got back to our house we had to pose for a few more photos. Annabelle didn’t want to be in the picture with our family. She wanted to be in the picture with Aunt Sandy and Uncle Tony.

I am sure she would have left with them if they had let her.

But at least Batman stood with me and Desperate Hubby. Kind of like a partial family photo.

Later that evening we sadly bid our friends farewell. They were scheduled for an early morning departure (which ended up being delayed by an optic-emergency, incidentally) and they wanted to get to bed early.

It was so gratifying to see my old buddies again. They fit right in here in Idaho, and I think that a little Chateau in Caldwell would be an awesome fourth home for them.

What do you think, guys?

Categories: Random Musings, Travel | 5 Comments

Mother-Daughter Trip to Seattle

Posted on August 21, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

Our family has been on a whirlwind pace the past couple of weeks. No sooner had we returned from our camping trip to Bull Trout than Annabelle and I turned around and headed to the great state of Washington for my friend Melissa’s wedding.

Melissa and I have been friends for many years. We met through little brother Rob when he and I lived in California and Melissa was living in Seattle. Rob and Melissa’s then-boyfriend were buddies from working together in Alaska (are you following so far?) and Melissa and said-ex came down to California to watch the Rose Bowl. Rob had told Melissa that she and I HAD to meet me because we were exactly alike. Sure enough, we hit it off immediately, and have been friends ever since.

Melissa and I made a few trips to Mexico and traveled all around the state of California together (well, OK, mostly we went to the wine country a bunch of times and spent a month in Palm Springs once at a horse show). When I moved back to Idaho I convinced Melissa to move here too. She was with me when I met Desperate Hubby for the first time, and was the only person to know that we were eloping when we flew to Las Vegas six months later. We’ve laughed and cried, gossiped and counseled, and shared many a bottle of Veuve Clicquot over the years.

Through it all she has been one of those friends who is always there, and whether I see her every day or once a year our friendship never changes. Though she has been back in Seattle for a few years now, she is never far from my thoughts, and no one could have been happier for her when she met the love of her life, Kelly Martin, and planned her dream wedding.

Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from the big event, so Annabelle and I boarded a plane really, really early in the morning to head to Seattle.

Really, really, really early.

Speaking of really, I’m sure I don’t really look this old. It was probably the dry cabin air. And the three hours of sleep.

Our flight got us to Seattle just after 7:00 a.m. so we had the whole day to explore before we were due at the rehearsal dinner that evening. Our friend Kris (owner of Chic-The-Wonder-Horse that Annabelle shows) was kind enough to volunteer her Seattle-ite brother Mark for a day of sightseeing. Mark was kind enough to accept the challenge, so we drove our rental car straight to his house from the airport.

We were greeted by Mark, his lovely wife Jennifer, and their beautiful daughter Sylvie in their charming home just a few miles from downtown Seattle. Mark made us breakfast and we sat and chatted in their perfectly manicured back yard for a couple of hours, during which time Annabelle played gleefully with their cat Buddy and somehow scored a bunch of cool dress-up clothes, several stuffed animals and a nice plastic dinosaur she picked out for Batman. Which necessitated buying another bag for the trip home, incidentally. But that’s another story.

Eventually we loaded up in the rental car and headed downtown. It was a picture-perfect summer day in Seattle. Warm and sunny and just right for a nice walk-about. First stop was a splendid little wine store, which didn’t interest Annabelle much. But I liked it. Then we got on the train and headed on to Pike Place Market.

That was much more entertaining.

Especially when viewed from atop Mark’s shoulders. Did I mention what a nice guy he is?

We did all the touristy things…….

bubble gum alley…….

which was cool until Annabelle tried to eat a loose piece of gum. Gross.

Then we visited the trained parrot. I forget his name, Booker maybe? But he did all manner of tricks and was pretty neat. Annabelle even got to hold him.

When he was playing “Dead Bird.”

We made our way down to the waterfront, and Annabelle was extremely disappointed at how long the line was for the giant Ferris wheel. She was appeased by a ride on this gorgeous vintage carousel though.

We were all getting pretty hungry so Mark took us down the street to the iconic Ivar’s Acres of Clams. Mark was a veritable fount of knowledge about all things Seattle, and Ivar’s was no exception. Seems Ivar was quite a character in local history. Among other crazy things, he advocated feeding the seagulls. And his restaurant still allows it today.

Mark showed Annabelle how it was done.

And then she was unstoppable.

She fed them……

and fed them.

It was getting later in the afternoon, and Annabelle and I needed to start the drive up north to Everett to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Mark walked us back to our car and then boarded the train for home. He had been a fantastic travel guide, patient and very knowledgeable. Thanks again Mark. You are a gem!

We headed to our hotel, the Holiday Inn in Everett. Although we arrived only about a half-hour before official check-in time our room was not yet ready. My little girl was fading after her 4:30 a.m. wake up call, so I did the only thing I could think of to keep her going.

Fed her sugar.

After all the unique activities of the day, it was the hot fudge sundae at the sad little Everett Denny’s that prompted my daughter to say “This is the best mother-daughter-day ever!” Kids.

When we finally got checked in to our hotel and changed into clean clothes we headed over to the rehearsal dinner in the charming nearby town of Snohomish. The dinner included out-of-town guests as well as the wedding party, so it was quite a crowd in the little restaurant. The food was delicious though, and I met some wonderful people. My new friend Elaine changed my life by telling me how to access the Navigator application on my smart phone.

Really, I mean it. She literally changed my life. Plus she was super-cool. As was her handsome hubby Rick.

There was a sort-of-strange balloon-animal guy there making various creations for the guests. He made this lovely wedding hat for Melissa, but she accidentally left it in the ladies’ room almost immediately after he presented it to her.

Lucky for Melissa, Annabelle had to go potty right after that, and I found the hat and returned it to her.

You’re welcome, buddy!

It was heart-warming to see my beautiful friend so happy. I loved her groom-to-be, Kelly, just as much as when I had met him the first time a couple of years ago, and it was just awesome to see Melissa’s family and friends again.

After the dinner, we headed back to the hotel for a much-needed rest. Annabelle was such a big girl she insisted on sleeping in her own bed.

The wedding was the next afternoon, so we spent the day just mostly relaxing and swimming in the hotel pool.

Annabelle loved that pool.

In mid-afternoon we got all spiffed up and set out for the drive to Melissa and Kelly’s home in Snohomish for the ceremony. Thanks to the Navigation feature on my Android, the drive was a piece of cake. You really did change my life, Elaine.

We arrived at a property so beautiful it almost made me cry. The whole thing was absolutely gorgeous. Truly.

Guests approached under the beautifully draped driveway entrance and walked up a tree-lined drive to the huge yard where the ceremony was to be held.

The setting was picture-perfect.

And the ceremony was so perfectly-Melissa that I almost cried again. The couple had written their own vows, and they were just what I would have expected.

I just have to say it again. Perfect.

I was again overwhelmed with happiness for my dear friend. She deserves a wonderful life, and I know she will have one with her soul-mate Kelly, living in the beautiful green oasis that is their home.

After the ceremony there was a wonderful reception. With dancing.

And cupcakes.

And a wonderful dinner. It was the best wedding ever.

Congratulations and much love Melissa and Kelly. I wish you a lifetime of happiness!

The next day I dragged Annabelle around a bit for some more sight-seeing. She did not want to make the drive into Seattle, so we poked around Everett a bit.

She was very intrigued by all the sailboats docked in the marina.

We had a wonderful brunch and then headed on over to the Boeing factory, which was right nearby. Annabelle was too short for the actual tour, but we had fun looking at all the exhibits.

Annabelle looked so tiny next to the big airplane parts.

And we got to practice flying a 727 too.

We didn’t even know until after we got home that Melissa actually works at the Boeing factory! Duh.

We spent the last couple of hours of the day swimming in the hotel pool, then Annabelle got to experience her first taste (literally) of room service.

Oh yeah, Holiday Inn? Sorry about the spaghetti on the towel. At least I covered up the duvet……

The next morning we slept in and then headed to the airport for our early afternoon flight. Annabelle was proud to pull her own new rolling-duffle with all her loot from Mark and Jennifer’s, as well as a few other knickknacks picked up along the way.

We had a wonderful mother-daughter weekend.

Even if Annabelle’s favorite parts were the Everett Denny’s and the Holiday Inn pool.

Categories: Kids Are Funny Creatures, Travel | Tags: trips to mexico, vacation | Leave a comment

Camping at Bull Trout Lake, 2012

Posted on August 9, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

My family and I have just returned from our 2nd Annual Camping Extravaganza at Bull Trout Lake near Stanley, Idaho. This year we camped for five days.

THE PREPARATION

It takes a lot of stuff for a big family to camp for five days. It was piled outside.

It was piled inside.

My brother-in-law Mike was joining us in our camping adventure for the first time, and he came over to meet us and caravan for the two and a half hour drive. He was a little taken aback by the sheer quantity of stuff I had assembled for our trip.

He said something like “I thought we were just going for a few days. No one told me that you were MOVING there!” What a smarty-pants.

So I got back at him. I made him load all the stuff.

We had rented a travel trailer for our trip this year, so once we got that and the pickup loaded to the gills we were ready to head out.

Of course, we took all three horses.

We made it to Stanley in good time and got the horses settled in first thing.

Batman immediately started whining that he wanted to watch movies. Our travel trailer was equipped with a small television, and he demanded in increasing volume that I put a movie on for him. He said he was soooooooo booooooorred!

Instead I set up the badminton net and gave him a racket. He started hitting the birdie back and forth across the net all by himself.

He never mentioned the TV again.

Annabelle pursued her own interests too, putting a halter on Grumpy and climbing on him bareback.

We sat about preparing camp. It took no time at all to get everything set up.

Uncle Mike put up his tent and sat outside in peace and quiet for a moment.

In a couple of hours Brother Rob and Mel arrived with Benson and Emma. They had so much stuff stacked on the top of their car they called themselves the Clampets.

Rob hummed the “Beverly Hillbillies” theme song while everyone helped unload. Well, just for a minute, anyway.

Rob carefully raked the ground where he had decided to set up the tent.

And a group effort eventually got everything set up perfectly……

right on top of a giant pile of biting ants. We talked about moving the tent, but finally decided to just take action.

Mel sprayed and sprayed the fly spray we had brought for the horses. I guess it worked, because they never complained about the ants.

WE MAKE NEW FRIENDS

About the time we all got settled in we saw a huge beautiful motor home towing a Jeep pull in to the campsite right across the trail. It was truly a sight to see.

I thought for just a moment that our friends the Points were surprising us and arriving with her mom and dad in their travel ensemble. But then I noticed the Texas plates. Nope, these were strangers.

But not for long.

In just a few minutes a beautiful little girl came skipping over looking for kids to play with. Three year old Piper was absolutely adorable.

The kids took to her right away, especially Annabelle. She introduced her to all the horses and her toys. Piper seemed interested in the horses, but she was clearly a little scared of them.

We were ready to head down to the lake to let the kids swim, so we invited our new friends to go with us. We were even going to let them ride in the Redneck Limo, but for some reason they decided to drive their own car.

When we got to the lake we found a nice little spot near the beach to park, and the kids piled out. Uncle Mike immediately started earning his keep, coaxing the kids into the cold mountain water like the Pied Piper.

Speaking of Piper, she did try the water, but as I mentioned, it was really, really cold. She curled up on her Mama Donna’s lap instead.

After the kids were suitably frozen we all headed back to camp for some dinner. Piper and her Papa, John joined us for a while longer. We had learned that our new friends were traveling the country full-time in their luxury coach. John is an attorney who specializes in securities work for independent filmmakers, and a sought-after speaker who travels all around the US to address groups and help them with their legal and financial needs.

John and Donna have full custody of Piper, who is Donna’s granddaughter. It was obvious that the couple doted on the little girl, and I was impressed by how well-adapted they all seemed to life on the road. Of course, Piper is always on the lookout for friends to play with.

And she sure found them here. She was at our camp first thing in the morning, ready to play. She joined right in with the big girls in hauling water for the horses.

She even helped the kids gather firewood.

I told John that I was going to saddle Reno, and asked if Piper would like to ride. “I don’t think so.” he said. “She has never been near a horse before and I don’t think you will get her on him.”

We worked up to it slowly.

It took a little coaxing but eventually we got it done. How cute is this?

Once we got her on, we couldn’t get her off.

And her adventurous spirit even rubbed off on her Mama and Papa.

John looked perfectly at ease on Grumpy. Well, except for the barrel racing saddle and short stirrups.

Donna had done quite a bit of riding in her younger years and she hopped right up like she had been on a horse yesterday.

We walked around the campground loop and talked. Donna and I discovered that we had a very similar background. She had been working at Apple Computer during the same time frame as I had been at Ascend, and we shared stories of the highs and lows of the Silicon Valley hay-days.

Piper and Benson trailed along behind, holding hands. They were adorable.

We had so much fun visiting with our new friends, but they had to leave for a lecture in Boise so we bid them farewell. We hope to see them again someday on their travels through.

LIFE AROUND CAMP

We quickly settled into a routine of sorts around camp. Like home routines, the camp days were delineated by mealtime and planned daily activities.

The early morning campfire was always a welcome sight when I emerged from the trailer.

The kids drank hot cocoa and the adults coffee. Winston ran around trying to eat off of everyone’s plates.

Speaking of eating, Desperate Hubby was the primary food preparation guru. His assistant Mike helped too.

Breakfasts were bacon or sausage, with huge helpings of hash browns and eggs cooked to order.

Dinners weren’t too shabby either. It makes me hungry just looking at it.

A couple of nights Aunt Mel took charge of dinner. Her spaghetti was just delicious.

Uncle Mike’s table runner provided a touch of class to our little camp kitchen.

Which apparently Uncle Rob thought we needed, since he didn’t even trust us not the eat the bait.

The kids had several camp chores that they carried out with remarkable enthusiasm.

They were in charge of hauling water for the horses three times a day.

And gathering firewood.

By any method necessary.

One day they found this giant stump and worked for what seemed like an hour to get it back to camp. It was really, really heavy.

When they finally got it back to camp and sat it down Batman made an observation. “It looks like a Flying Pig, mom!”

And the Flying Pig it was.

I thought it was so cute that I demanded the Pig be spared from the fire, and Pyromaniac Brother Rob reluctantly agreed.

The Pig served a very useful purpose as the Camp Drying Rack for the duration of our stay.

And then I made Desperate Hubby save room for him in the back of the truck. The Flying Pig now lives in the gravel bed in front of our house.

Really. Come on by and you can see him.

At night all the kids settled down in our trailer with us. After the first night they were so tired that they actually went to sleep peacefully with no fighting. It was heavenly.

The boys shared a bunk.

As did Emma and Annabelle.

Desperate Hubby got his own bunk because it was too small for us to share. I slept in the teeny tiny bunk above his. I didn’t mind.

BATMAN GROWS HORNS

I have to take a second here to tell a funny story about my little boy. We really tried to be good about putting bug spray and sunscreen on all of the kids during our trip. But we obviously missed Batman’s face on the first evening, and he got two very symmetrical mosquito bites on each side of his little forehead.

By the second night Batman sported two large bumps on each side of his skull. He pointed out the bumps to me and I exclaimed “WOW! You must be growing horns!”

No more thrilling words has my little boy ever heard.

He snorted and tossed his head. He proudly told the other kids about his sprouting horns. Benson was so alarmed that he said he did not want to sleep with his cousin. Not if he was going to grow horns, that is.

Poor Benson didn’t calm down until Mel took him aside and told him it was just a joke.

But it wasn’t a joke to Batman. He carefully felt his horns every few minutes to see if they were growing. He made me lift him so he could look in the tiny mirror in the trailer. He was positively ecstatic about the horns. He told tales of how large the horns would grow, and refused to wear a hat because the horns might poke through.

After a day or two he became concerned that perhaps the horns weren’t growing after all. He was disappointed about that. It wasn’t until we got home and he looked in the bathroom mirror that he sadly said “Mom, I don’t think they are horns after all. They are just bug bites.”

When his dad got home from work that evening he said “Dad, I am not growing horns after all.” Desperate Hubby feigned surprise. “Really buddy. No horns huh?” Batman said no. In fact, he said “Dad, even if I asked Santa Claus for horns I don’t think I would get them. I am not meant to have horns.”

It was a somber evening for Batman. But he’s recovered.

WATER DOGS

The kids and men spent a great deal of time lakeside. Bull Trout Lake itself was freezing cold, so they searched around until they found a nice little lake down the road that was much warmer but without the moss and icky stuff that resides in a lot of warm lakes.

It was beautiful there, too.

Our Swim Master, Uncle Mike, wasted no time getting the kids in the water.

And Winston.

After Uncle Mike hauled Winston out in the deep water where he couldn’t touch he let the poor traumatized dog swim back. Amazingly enough, Winston was still willing to go in the water after a stick.

Over and over and over again.

The fetching looked like so much fun to the kids that they got their own sticks.

And thus was born an amazing and fun new camping game.

Kids That Fetch

We threw the sticks out for them over and over, further and further. Safely ensconced in the comfort of their life vests they fetched again and again and again. It was a wonderful way to wear them out.

Every kid fetched.

And Benson even took the game up a notch by walking on all fours for a remarkably extended period of time.

With all this time at the lake there was a little actual fishing that went on.

And a couple of fish were caught. Batman loves to hold a nice slimy fish.

Actually, this is might be the same fish. Maybe they only caught one.

Anyway, the lake provided hours of entertainment.

BUT WE PLAYED OTHER GAMES, TOO

They included, as previously mentioned, several Badminton tournaments.

A little Horseshoe action.

Intellectual stimulation was provided by the occasional game of Checkers.

And hours (it seemed like) of BB Gun Range Practice, supervised by Uncle Rob. He is a police officer, you know.

The kids hardly ever beat him.

Annabelle loved to shoot Emma’s pink BB rifle. She was pretty good, too. No empty can was safe around our campsite.

And we can’t forget Uncle Rob’s famous rock juggling.

And of course I would be remiss to leave out our nightly campfire entertainment, provided by Desperate Hubby after he finished his cooking and cleanup chores.

Even with all this campsite fun, we did have time for a few major excursions away from our campsite.

TRAIL RIDING, KIRKHAM TRAIL

I was itching to get out on the trail, so on our first full day we saddled up the horses and headed out to the Kirkham Trail Head. We had three horses and four riders, so Mel and I took turns riding Spice and walking. I really needed the exercise, so I wanted to walk most of the way. So did Mel, but she was a good sport about it.

The ride started out well enough. The beginning was mostly flat ground which wound through the marshy area near the creek. Spice wasn’t crazy about the little wooden bridges that crossed the marshy areas. They weren’t more than two feet wide, and had no rails.

We had to cross two of these bridges to get to the high country. We got Spice across the first one but I could tell she was pretty nervous. When I led her across the second one she panicked and slipped off the edge, pushing me partly into the murky mud below. It was icky.

We soldiered on, with me trying not to think too much about the return trip and crossing the bridges again.

The trail was breathtaking once we started to climb. We went through acres of burned down trees whose skeletons stood like sentinels guarding the new baby trees growing up. It was a little eerie.

Up on top we could see forever. If we would have kept going on that same trail we would have made it all the way to Lowman.

We had been riding for a couple of hours already, though, so we turned around and headed back.

Toward the bridges.

I was leading Spice as we got to the first bridge and she made it across OK, but she was considerably agitated by the unknown elements lurking just under her feet as she clonked across the wood.

As we started to cross the second bridge disaster struck. Spice walked carefully, but stepped just off the bridge with one hind leg. That leg immediately sank in the deep mud. The mare panicked and floundered, pulling the reins out of my hands and falling off the bridge with all four legs, bolting away from the bridge through the muck.

I caught her and held on to her beside the bridge. I told Mel to go on across with Grumpy and Emma. Then disaster struck again. Grumpy, who had made every prior crossing with the aplomb he has shown as a superstar trail horse, started over the bridge. Emma was scared, and I am not sure exactly what happened, but Grumpy fell off the bridge too. He floundered trying to get to his feet in the deep mud. Emma fell off. Right under his feet.

I am usually very well composed under adverse circumstances, but in this case I lost it. I started screaming, watching my 10-year-old niece on the ground next to the shod scrambling hooves of a 1,000 pound horse. Grumpy is smart, though, and careful. Somehow he managed to miss stepping on Emma.

We all re-grouped. I decided that there would be no more bridge crossings that day. I took Spice and walked up and down to find a place to cross the creek. Once I found it, it took me about twenty minutes to convince Spice to cross. She was trembling all over with fear from the bridge, but she is a veteran water crosser. Once I got her in the creek she stopped for a nice drink.

Then it was Grumpy’s turn.

It took quite a bit of coaxing but I finally got him across too. He jumped the whole thing in one big leap.

Then it was time for Reno. I walked back over the bridge to him. I attached the long lead rope I had been using to lead the others across the creek to his bridle. As I started to lead him toward the creek he took off, marching across the bridge all by himself, with me following him.

He is such a cool little horse.

We made it back to camp safely, exhausted from our ordeals but still grateful for the beauty we had seen that day.

So we decided to do it all over again.

TRAIL RIDING, BENCH CREEK TRAIL

This time we couldn’t talk Emma into going along. I can’t say that I really blame her.

It was just us three girls that headed out. And Winston. At least nobody had to walk this time. Except Winston.

This time we headed in the opposite direction, to the Bench Creek Trail. Another rider we had encountered the day before talked of the beautiful views from the top of the trail. He told us there were no bridges to cross this time.

He was right on both counts.

The trail started out flat, then wound high up on the ridge of a mountain.

The terrain was so steep that the trail was a zig-zag, going from one switch-back to another up the side of the mountain.

Once we got to the top though, the views were nothing less than spectacular.

But a little smoky.

Of course we had to pose.

All of us.

Our ride home was without incident. It was one of the most beautiful trails I think I’d ever seen.

Until the next day, that is. When we embarked on

THE EPIC HIKE, WARM SPRINGS TRAIL

The horses were tired a little sore from their strenuous climbs the previous two days, and even Winston wasn’t interested in doing another ride by day three. With all the hiking and swimming he had done he was Dog Tired. Har har.

I had one more trail in mind though, and despite going for a five-mile run after our trail ride the previous day, Mel was more than happy to humor me by agreeing to go for a hike. My experience the other day trekking along with the horses made me remember how much I like to go for nice relaxing hike, so I was thrilled to head out.

When we set out on a moderate climb up the side of a mountain, we had no idea of the wonder we would soon experience.

We’d hiked about an hour or so when we saw a few butterflies. A few turned into many. Many turned into hundreds of thousands. They covered acres of meadows on the side of the mountain It was breathtaking.

They ranged in color from a bright orange to a more mild version of that same color. Every one was beautiful.

We stared and stared at them. I had seen the migration of the Monarch Butterflies in California before, and this was a similar phenomenon. Although these butterflies were the same color, they were much smaller than a Monarch and they were spotted rather than striped. Whatever they were, they were simply beyond words.

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

After we played with the butterflies for a while, we continued our hike. We came upon a huge tree that appeared to have been felled by lightning. The base of the tree was so big we could actually sit inside it.

Se we did. The bright orange vibrancy of the wood was truly a work of art.

We hiked further. Past bushes with a mysterious red fuzz growing on them.

More fallen trees.

And lots of beautiful flowers.

We crossed a couple of streams. One small, one bigger.

We hiked into a high mountain swamp to examine hundreds of lily pads floating serenely in a pond surrounded by tall, tall trees.

We finally walked back to the campsite in the heat of the afternoon. Mel’s GPS watch showed we had hiked just about 6.5 extremely steep miles. I was sweaty and tired. My breath came in heaves and I felt like my legs might collapse at any minute. Mel trotted along the trail as if we were just starting out. She is a goer, that girl.

We walked into the camp to see the unexpected sight of the children giving poor beleaguered Winston a bubble bath. That’ll teach him to wimp out on a hike!

Rob and Mel headed out that evening for home. We woke up early the next morning to a light drizzling rain.

The kids sat under the camper awning playing with their pet worms.

We loaded up the camper and the horses and headed home. The smoke that had been a beautiful plume in the previous four days now pervaded the valley.

We made it past the fire controls near Banks and home in good time. The kids were tired and ready to be back.

But Batman said what we all were thinking.

“I can’t wait to go camping again, mom!”

Categories: Horse Adventures, Kids Are Funny Creatures, Life in the Country, Travel, Uncategorized | 6 Comments

New Zealand Part III: Dead Bird Station

Posted on June 22, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

Our layover days in the little red ranch house were filled with relaxation, mundane chores, and glimmers of excitement. In my last travel post I told of my invigorating ride on Matia, the young gelding who we saddled and rode for the first time during our rest days at the cabin.

That was my closest brush with death on our trip so far, and it was about time that Brother Rob got his glimpse of mortality.

As I mentioned, this ranch was our layover station. We were going to have a chance to relax for a couple of days and since there was water available we would have the chance to do some laundry.

We all looked forward to having clean clothes, though the way we achieved that was, um, somewhat rustic.

Here Diane works on getting her spare riding jeans clean.

I scrubbed everything I had with a bar of Ivory soap. I’m not entirely sure I got them any cleaner, but it felt good to make the effort. I did mention I didn’t have room for makeup, right?

When our laundry was all finished, we laid it out across a fence to dry.

The drama of this event began about halfway through the first full day in camp. Jenny, our camp cook and hostess, said after breakfast that she felt there was a strange taste and smell to the water inside the house. The water, by the way, that she had been using to cook with and wash our dishes. I could not really discern anything unusual, but then again I had never been to that house before.

I had just been happy to be able to wash my face and brush my teeth with water from a tap for a change.

Lawrie climbed up on top of a very rickety old ladder and lifted the top off of the cistern, which collected rain water and supplied the house taps.

When he lifted off the lid, he made this pronouncement. The cistern must be cleaned.

I had the feeling that this was not a brand new discovery. Having my strapping and willing brother Rob at his disposal probably just enabled Lawrie to do something he had needed to do for awhile.

I sat back with a cup of coffee and my camera to watch the proceedings.

Lawrie procured the old ranch tractor, which took some time to get started and did not look all that trustworthy to my uneducated eye.

After some maneuvering he got the tractor situated so that the bucket reached the top of the stand that the cistern rested on. My beloved baby brother was in the bucket.

Then Lawrie scrambled up the ladder and joined him.

The tipped and shifted the heavy box to try to empty it enough to slide it onto the tractor.

Their situations were precarious at best, downright crazy at worst.

Finally they managed to get the corner of the cistern wedged into the bucket and Rob balanced like a monkey on the bucket arms, holding the cistern steady as Lawrie began to lower him to the ground.

The hydraulics on the tractor weren’t what they probably once were, and the bucket bounced and jostled as it slowly moved toward the ground. I had this awful vision of my little brother falling to the grass and being squashed like a bug beneath the metal cistern.

He didn’t though. Fall, I mean.

When they finally got the cistern back on the ground they tipped it over and out poured a bunch of slimy brown stuff.

And a dead black bird.

I didn’t take a picture of the bird because I was too busy scrubbing out my mouth with the piece of Ivory soap that I had left over from my laundry. I was disgusted and horrified, and I could suddenly imagine a foul dead-bird taste in my mouth. I’m sure it was my imagination.

Or not.

When the cistern was all scrubbed out with water supplied from the outside pump for the livestock, they repeated the whole process to put it back on the stand again. Just backwards.

Although they assured me that the water in the house was now clean and truly potable after filling the cistern back up from the livestock pump, I brushed my teeth with the hose outside for the rest of the stay.

And that is how I named the ranch Dead Bird Station.

Categories: Travel | 4 Comments

The Real Man From Snowy River

Posted on April 20, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

We finished up our Tasmanian adventure in good spirits, rested and ready for our next trip, an eleven day pack trip through the mountainous region of New Zealand’s South Island.

Rob had regained much of his good humor from the rest and recreation in Tasmania. Look at him here trying to contain his glee.

We traveled from Tasmania to the beautiful city of Christchurch and checked into the lovely Millennium Hotel, where we spent a couple of days getting our laundry done and watching stupid movies on Pay Per View (I noted “Michelle and Romey’s High School Reunion” in particular, in my journal). It has to be a pretty bad movie if you take up valuable journal space remembering the name.

Our trip was based out of a picturesque ranch called Waitohi Downs, which is a mountainous 2,300 acre spread. It is home to 50 horses, 3,000 sheep, 150 beef cattle and 450 red deer. The red deer are raised for their antlers, which are shipped to Japan where the velvet is a high-priced Japanese aphrodisiac. Huh. I guess whatever floats your boat.

Anyway, our hosts on the trip were Jenny and Lawrie O’Carroll. They were a fortyish couple, no kids, and they ran the 1-day to 11-day trips based out of their simple yet comfortable ranch headquarters.

This is Jenny. She was our camp cook, and exhibited unflappable calmness and good humor through all the challenges of the trip. She made a mean dessert too.

Jenny’s husband is Lawrie. He is The Real Man From Snowy River.

I thought he looked kind of like a tall, masculine Richard Gere. Lawrie and I hit it off right away (no, not in the “deer horn” sort of way) and he spend most of the trip trying to persuade me to abandon my life in the U.S. for a year and work for he and Jenny guiding pack trips. I still can’t believe I didn’t do it.

Rob made a new friend while we were at the ranch.

Unlike Australia, where our gear was carried from place to place by automobile, here all of our stuff was loaded on packhorses. Our first night there we were taught to pack our swag, which was a combination of bedroll and duffel bag, and carried all of our personal belongings for the trip. We were allowed three changes of clothing, a towel, some extra shoes for camp, and our cameras and journal writing materials.

There was no room in the swags for a blow dryer or makeup. You will no doubt notice that in some of the pictures later.

The swags were loaded on the sides of packhorses for the trip.

Which brings me to the horses. They were giant Thoroughbred/Clydesdale crosses. Here is Rob with one of the packhorses. They truly were huge.

At just over 16 hands high, my mare, Fern, was the smallest horse in our string. Did I mention there was no room for makeup?

Here is a picture of Rob with his horse. Or is it the horse and then Rob. I can’t tell.

We had a fellow rider who was a very nice woman from Colorado named Diane. Here we are, all loaded up and ready to head out.

And going down the trail. Isn’t it beautiful?

As the most experienced guest on the trip, I was often assigned the ask of leading Matia, a high-spirited and somewhat wild three year old gelding who had never been ridden and was on his first trip with the string. Daily, he stretched my arms, jerked my neck, and once almost pulled me off crossing a nasty raging river.

I nicknamed the colt “Junior,” and next week I’ll tell you about how Lawrie actually made me ride him.

Categories: Horse Adventures, Travel | Tags: adventure travel, horses, New Zealand | Leave a comment

Tasmania

Posted on April 13, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

We left Melbourne at about five in the evening for our overnight water crossing to Tasmania, on board the lovely Spirit of Tasmania. I had rented us a private cabin for the trip, which, although tiny, did have one queen sized bed and two bunk beds.

Guess who got the bunk beds. It wasn’t Rob. Although he spent most of the night in the ship bar so it wouldn’t have mattered to him anyway.

We arrived in Devonport at about 8:00 am and headed to our hotel. We had rented a couple of rooms to get ourselves oriented to Tasmania and prepare for our Overland Track backpacking trip.

We headed to our hotel, which was a “4 Star” rated Tasmanian hotel called the Gateway Motor Inn, and supposedly the nicest hotel in Devonport. My room had a double bed and a twin bed, with un-matching bedspreads, a circa 1970’s TV set, and a tiny bathroom with the toilet flushing mechanism mounted on the wall beside the sink. There was a picture of a blue cat in an apron beside the contraption pointing with her paw to the flush button. Quaint.

I tried to talk Rob into renting a car to tour around the island, but he said he wasn’t up for it. Snapped it at me, in fact. He wanted to go to his room and lie down. This initiated a discussion about the backpacking trip. After a very short talk we determined that there was no way Rob would be able to hike for even one day with his roughly 30 pound backpack on his back.

We walked to a local travel agency and made arrangements to rent a cabin at the beautiful Cradle Mountain Lodge, a lovely cabin-based resort in the heart of Tasmania. From the lodge we could do day hikes as Rob felt up to it, and he could rest his back for the next leg of our trip, which was another horseback trip that would be even more demanding than our Australian Pub Crawl.

The Cradle Mountain Lodge was lovely to see.

I was greeted at check in by one of the resident brush-tailed possums. It bit me immediately after Rob took this picture.

We checked into our cabin, which was lovely, with the exception being that it had only one bed.

Guess who got the bed? It wasn’t me.

Rob immediately became enamored of the fireplace in the cabin. He embarked on what would be his obsession for our entire week in the cabin…..building the largest fire possible and keeping it burning at all times, maintaining a room temperature of no less than 120 degrees at all times. It felt that hot, anyway.

I settled my sleeping bag down on the floor next to a window, where I spent every night with the window cracked open to allow enough cool air that I could sleep in the stifling heat.

The resort was very lovely and offered many amenities. It had hiking trails throughout the property and they boasted some absolutely incredible views.

You could hike along this beautiful river on the a walkway right from your cabin door.

It was truly spectacular.

Our first night there we had a visit from one of the resident possums. It came to the window and looked inside, scratching gently on the screen.

Rob opened the window. Our hotel literature told us very clearly not to feed the possums, as they could acquire a fatal disease from human food called “Lumpy Jaw.” (I know…it sounds like they made that up.) Rob apparently did not read that part.

It also told us not to let the animals in the cabins under any circumstances. Rob didn’t read that part either.

We eventually had to chase the possum from our room with sticks from the fireplace. I don’t think that had been his first taste of human food.

The weather took a turn for the worst on our first full day at the resort. We woke to driving rain, which didn’t stop me from embarking on a three-hour horseback trek from the small stables down the road from our cabin. The ride was miserable. The horses were untrained, it was unbelievably muddy, and my mount was noticeably lame.

The weather turned even worse that afternoon, with snow falling through evening and for the next couple of days. It was lovely, but we were so glad we were not in the middle of nowhere, living out of our backpacks as we had planned to do.

Our little cabin was cozy and warm, with the ever-burning fire sending a plume of smoke in the air.

We spent lots of hours in the lodge watering hole, called the Tavern Bar. We played pool and drank and ate the hours away.

A couple of days into the visit we met some new friends.

Penny and Tess were college friends embarking on a one year walk-about of Australia. They were staying in their ancient van, which had the unfortunate feature of a leaky roof. The girls were so sweet that we invited them to stay with us in the cabin for a couple of days. They were happy to pitch their sleeping bags on the floor. We all settled in just fine.

We went on a long day-hike with them, through the spitting sleet and snow, to the top of Cradle Mountain.

Rob calls this my “Admiral Bird” look. I don’t really know what that means, but it sounds funny anyway.

Penny and Tess left to continue their trip a couple of days later, leaving while Rob and I were on a four-wheeler riding escapade. It was really, really fun riding through all the mud.

When we got back to the cabin Penny and Tess had cleaned it all up, their skills putting the hotel maids to shame. And they left us this note.

See, I wasn’t making it up about the fireplace.

Rob spent a couple more days getting massaged at the hotel spa, and we relaxed and got ready for the next leg of our trip. I was rested and ready to go by the time our Cradle Mountain visit came to an end.

Next week we’ll fly to Christchurch, New Zealand, to embark on a ride with the real “Man From Snowy River.”

Categories: Travel | Tags: Australia, Tasmania, travel | Leave a comment

From the Pub Crawl to Tasmania

Posted on April 6, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

After Rob’s fall from Shandy, he spent the rest of the Pub Crawl in survival mode. Our riding portion of the trip was pretty much done, but we were scheduled to participate in a local parade as part of the “Land of the Beardies” celebration.

Rob was assigned a new horse for the parade, a 22 year old gelding named Hard Times. He tried to be a good sport about the ride, but I could tell he was in increasing distress from his injured wrist, and alarmingly, also his back, which had taken a major jar from his fall on the hard packed dirt.

We were all glad when the parade was over and we returned to the ranch for a big barbecue and plenty of beer drinking.

The day after the parade we drove to a local caving area, and crawled way down under the earth (down under, get it? har har) in some massive tunnels. I had never been in a cave like that before, and it was very interesting. I was surprised that I didn’t feel at all claustrophobic.

After our caving experience, we headed a little ways out to try our hand at fossicking. Fossicking is a term used in Australia for recreational prospecting – basically the same process early American miners used panning for gold.

I had no luck at all with my fossicking exploration, but Rob found three tiny sapphires that he ended up throwing back in the water.

He was getting pretty crabby by then.

I thought it was because of this.

No, he was not crabby because I took a picture of him with his eyes closed. Look closely at his mouth and you will see the gum he is clenching tightly between his jaws.

My normally very smart little brother had decided before our trip that an Australian and New Zealand adventure would be the perfect place to wean himself off his years-long habit of chewing tobacco.

Copenhagen, to be precise.

He had purchased a seemingly life-time supply of nicotine gum to aid him in his efforts, and that seemed to tide him over pretty well during the early part of the trip, when things were going well. After he injured his wrist, though, and especially as his back started to hurt, the nicotine delivered by increasingly large mouthfuls of the gum just wasn’t doing the job.

We left our friends from the Pub Crawl and flew to Melbourne, where we had scheduled a two day layover to get some laundry done and see the sites before we headed to the island of Tasmania.

In Melbourne we stayed at the beautiful Hotel Sofitel. After checking in, we discovered that Rob had been assigned a beautiful, large suite, with a full living room, dining room, king sized bed in the bedroom and a separate walk-in dressing area.

I had a regular room.

The disparity of accommodations did not even cheer up my surly brother. It would not be the last time on our trip that Rob enjoyed a far better sleeping arrangement than I did, but I am jumping ahead in my story.

We were in Melbourne mainly to do some errands, but we did take a couple of (very uninspired) pictures. Sheesh.

The first order of business was to get our laundry done. We had two big bags of wet, muddy and stinky clothes, and it was going to cost more than they were worth to get them cleaned at the hotel.

A nice person at the concierge desk directed us to a laundry just down the street from our accommodations. We lugged our bags down to the tiny place, where a shriveled old Indian man decided the charges by lifting the bags off the table one by one. $20 each, he said. It was a bargain.

On to the next order of business.

Rob had determined that his crabbiness was due to his lack of Copenhagen, and told me that if we could find him a can or two of chew he would return to his normal cheerful self.

Unfortunately, Melbournians (I made that term up) apparently don’t chew Copenhagen. The first few tobacco stores I called from my (small, regular) room at the Sofitel did not carry it. I finally found a store way across town that did have some cans available, at an astronomical price.

I loaded up my brother in a cab and away we went. We bought all the Copenhagen they had in the store. On our way back to the hotel we had a nice Italian dinner and stopped at a wine bar to pick up some port for a friend.

A few hours later Rob announced that it had not, in fact, been Copenhagen withdrawal that was making him cranky.

He was just cranky.

I begged him to go the doctor. He refused. I watched in dismay as my normally easy-going, happy-go-lucky brother turned into a snarling, ill-tempered traveling companion.

I thought it was going to be a very long next couple of weeks.

We were scheduled to travel on the lovely Spirit of Tasmania to our next destination, leaving at around 5pm, sailing overnight, and arriving in the Tasmanian capital of Devonport at about 8:00 the next morning.

On the way to the boat I talked my brother into stopping at a local pharmacy to see if they could recommend anything for his back pain. The pharmacist sold us some ibuprofen and sent us to his brother down the street, who was Physiotherapist.

The “Physio” gave Rob some electrical stimulation therapy for his back, followed by a massage, then taped him up as best he could and sent us on our way.

To our 10 day backpacking trip through the wilds of Tasmania.

What’s wrong with this picture?

Next week we’ll travel to Tasmania, and learn how sometimes the most unexpected turn of events can turn into an adventure all in itself.

Categories: Horse Adventures, Travel | Tags: adventure, Tasmania, travel | Leave a comment

Australian Pub Crawl on Horseback (Part 2)

Posted on March 30, 2012 by A Desperate Horsewife

Our first official day of riding started with a rainy two hour ride around the ranch. Rob managed pretty well for a non-rider. What I say in my journal about my non-horsey brother is that “He did very well on the introductory ride – managed to post at the trot and hold on during the canter.”

The next day we had another ride around the ranch, then came back for a late lunch. The lunch was exactly like a lunch you would be served in England; bread with canned meat, tuna and a pasta salad. This was served with sliced tomatoes and chopped lettuce. We also had the option of Vegemite. I went for the tuna.

I think Rob just had beer.

We departed the next morning in the pouring rain. The ride started by fording the river behind the house and setting out across extremely rough country. We forded two more rivers and crossed gullies and hills steeper than anywhere I’d ever ridden before.

Because it was rainy and cool the kangaroos were out in force. We probably saw a hundred of them that day, as well as wild goats (which looked exactly like domestic goats) by the dozen.

Our guide told us that the kangaroos were considered a pest, eating forage that could be better used for cattle or sheep. They are not protected, and are often shot for meat and hides. Occasionally the local stockmen hold kangaroo roundups, herding large groups of kangaroos into an enclosure where they are disposed of with rifle shots. They often poison them as well.

The terrain was treacherous in the rain and mud, but we forged ahead.

We finally arrived at the little town of Emmaville at about 4:30. We were drenched and tired by then, and plenty happy to see the little pub where we were to spend the night.

I wrote “The local pub was a welcome site, with warm fire and cold beer. We had a hearty dinner and retired to the bar to watch some dart players and visit with the locals.”

This is our group in front of the pub the next morning before leaving.

We set out at 9:00 and had an easier riding day, though we had some steep uphill climbs where we had to stand in our stirrups and hold the horses manes to keep our balance. We saw lots of sheep and baby lambs, and had several good long gallops. There were a couple more river crossings today, too.

We even got to jump over some logs. Rob didn’t jump though. He was too scared.

At the end of the day we stayed at another little pub, in the tiny town of Torrington, population 82. We spent a couple of hours playing pool and talking to a local stockman and his wife until dinner time. We had roast beef with potatoes for dinner, an excellent meal after our exertions of the day. The next day was our rest day.

On our rest day we hiked out to see the lookout site of Thunderbolt the Bush Ranger, a very famous thief on the order of Robin Hood. The views were spectacular from the top.

We went back for lunch, then hiked off to see the “Mystery Face,” which is a natural rock formation shaped exactly like a real face.

After a few more hours of beer drinking and pool, where Woodsy and I beat Rob and Woody for the World Championship, we turned in for the night.

And headed out on a beautiful sunny morning for our next leg.

It was a perfect day for riding. The ground was smooth and we had the opportunity to do lots of galloping and more jumping of logs.

At one point we were galloping along through a farmer’s paddock when suddenly a horse came out of nowhere and shot by me.

It was Shandy. And he had no rider.

Rob landed in fairly soft dirt, and wasn’t injured at all. This time. But I get ahead of myself.

We stopped in Deepwater for the night, where we had some unanticipated and vaguely disturbing entertainment. The Publican, which is the owner of a pub in Australia had a two year old stud cold. Our guide Woody made arrangements to have the stud colt service our hateful little packhorse Chartreuse, who was in season.

We joked about who was more excited about that, the stud colt or the Publican. We never could come to agreement.

At each pub we visited there was a schedule posted as to when the Pub Crawlers would be visiting. One pub had a huge board for us to sign. It had obviously been there for quite some time.

Rob stayed up late every single night, drinking beer and playing pool with the local drovers who came to visit. Much hilarity was always enjoyed by all.

The next morning we headed out for our final long cross country tour.

It was another great day for riding, and we made the most of it.

We raced.

And this is where Rob took the coolest picture of our whole trip.

Isn’t that awesome?!

Rob didn’t participate in the race. He was chicken. But he took lots of pictures.

We swam through a reservoir, then forded another river before coming to an area called Ranger’s Valley. Ranger’s Valley is home to Australia’s largest feedlot, feeding 70,000 cattle. It is owned by the Japanese. Huh.

After Ranger’s Valley we went for a nice gallop over hard flat ground. Those Australians love their gallops. Rob was right in front of me when Shandy suddenly literally jumped right out from underneath him. He hit the ground very, very hard. Rob, not the horse.

He broke his wrist. But we didn’t know that until we made it back home. He was in terrible pain for the rest of the trip.

How he hated that spotted horse Shandy!

We eventually made it back to the ranch.

Join me next week when I show you the super cool event we got to do before we left the ranch.

And I’ll explain why trying to stop chewing tobacco while on a trip overseas with a broken wrist is not a good idea.

Categories: Horse Adventures, Travel | Tags: Australia, Horse Adventures, Horseback Travel | 3 Comments

Travel

Viva Las Vegas!

Bon Voyage to the Fiechters!

California Comes to Idaho

Mother-Daughter Trip to Seattle

Camping at Bull Trout Lake, 2012

New Zealand Part III: Dead Bird Station

The Real Man From Snowy River

Tasmania

From the Pub Crawl to Tasmania

Australian Pub Crawl on Horseback (Part 2)

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