58 minutes and a burger tattoo
It's 8:02 PM. I am giving myself 58 minutes to write this blog. I am
typically not a fast writer. I normally go over what I put down and
clean it up before publishing it. I need to be up early for a Kenda
Lenseigne shooting clinic at Ben Avery tomorrow and I want to get to
bed early. I am going to hack this blog piece out without editing or
much thought. Call it a raw “Pumpkin Cheesecake” diary if you
will.
Marianne R. from
Oregon is down visiting Cindy during the “Art of the Cowgirl”
presentation in Buckeye. They invited me to ride the Hassayampa River
Wash through Wickenburg. This is the lower end of the wash than the
box canyon ride Lynn, Peter and I rode earlier.
Cindy, Marianne
and I met Donna G. and Jamie Z. at Rancho Rio. Team Roping haven of
the world. You couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a header, a
healer, their horse or the rig that brought them there. The place was
packed with all things roping.
Jack was not
impressed with all the rope swinging going on. Nothing else there
seemed to bother him and there was a lot going on at once. Team
ropers don't waste much time doing anything. Not dragging the arena,
backing into the box or exiting the arena. They can't seem to stop
roping, period. If they weren't running down the arena swinging a
rope for their turn, they were roping their kids, dogs and their
buddies horse. If somebody rode or walked by swinging a rope, Jack
nearly jumped out of his skin. He's been roped off of so I don't know
what the difference is. I did not want to get bucked off in front of
400 teams of ropers. If somebody took the notion to rope his hind
feet, the odds of that happening were worth betting on. There was no
place to put his feet to work. Jack is like a bottle of capped nitro;
you keep shaking it and eventually somethings going to blow. We made
a hasty exit from the middle of the chaos and waited for the girls in
an open area loping and circling grease wood.
The wash is deep
sand. The horses get a good workout just walking. I was nervous about
crossing under the overpass extending all the way across the wash.
Heavy with traffic, I figured the horses (especially mine) would
freak out. He wasn't bothered in the least. I guess as long as nobody
dropped a rope over the side we were good.
We rode in about 4
miles before turning back. Donna's little cutting horse was getting a
little jiggy. She started loping circles around us. Jack got amped
up, presumably confused as to why that horse got to run and he
didn't. He has been so good this trip and has been cooped up for the
last month. I let him run it out. The deep sand slowed him down but
it didn't do much to wear him out. We crossed under the overpass and
waited for the others. In hindsight, I should not have done that. I
sometimes forget I'm riding with other people and taking off away
from other horses can sometimes cause other horses to act up.
We stopped in town
at the Mecca for a bite to eat and a margarita. It is a more laid
back atmosphere here in this part of Arizona. It takes longer to get
your food. If you want fast food, stick with McDonald's. I snapped
a picture of the Tattoo parlor across the courtyard and figured I
could get a burger tattooed on my butt before they served me one. It
was worth the wait. The food was very good.
You can't call
yourself a Snowbird and not stop someplace for desert after dinner.
Frozen yogurt topped off a pleasant day with a great group of gals on
the Upside-down River.
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