Saturday, February 29, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-28-2020

"Be Donald"



Patty left early in the morning to meet up with friends at Winter Range. Dave, well...Dave went to a roping. There are few consistencies in life: death, taxes...and Dave's obsessive compulsive roping disorder (OCRD) among the most prevalent. It's a good thing he's good at it or Cindy would have to hide his roping gloves.

Cindy and I set up a drill we learned at one of the Kenda clinics for mounted shooting. The drill incorporates several gates and three barrels. The center barrel is your starting and ending point. You circle the center barrel then shoot a single gate...round an end barrel and shoot a three target cluster before returning to the center barrel making a gun change and shooting an identical pattern on the opposite end. Once you get that down...you run it in the opposite direction.

We each shot the drill both directions before setting up an actual pattern. The random number generator on my phone picked #83. Cindy showed me a better way to run. I have a tendency to want to run a course so that I shoot the rundown cross. When I first started shooting, a lot of shooters told me it was harder to shoot the rundown “weak” (cross shots)...so that's all I practiced. Now I prefer it. It's also how you shoot shotgun. Some shooters can shoot a shogun run “strong” but those guys might be freaks. Way beyond my skill level.

It was a good practice. I focused on the things Kenda taught. “Shoot late and you'll be right on time.” - “Lock on – arm straight – tight grip – chin to your shoulder – mean, hunter face.” It's also helpful to practice when you have another person there to help point out things you might not know your doing. And not just the things you might be doing wrong – but pointing out the good things, too. Offering encouragement instead of criticism. There is a place for constructive criticism – but maybe there's an even bigger need for encouragement. Especially among women. I agree with Cindy when she says that women are often tougher on themselves than need be.

When I get to feeling self conscious...which is often – I tell myself to “Be Donald” from the movie“Space Cowboy's” staring Clint Eastwood, Donald Sutherland, Tommy Lee Jones and James Gardner. The four are standing in line buck naked for a physical. Clint, Tommy Lee and Gardner are self conscious about being exposed. They awkwardly try to cover themselves and melt into the shadows unseen. Meanwhile, Donald, a safe bet the least attractive of the four, is standing chest out, feet apart – hands on hips with a shit eating grin on his face tall and proud. He is overflowing with confidence and self assurance. In his mind, he sees himself as a young man in his prime flaunting it for all to see. He believes it enough that others can't help but believe it too.

It's that kind of confidence and devil may care attitude that we need to succeed. While I don't plan on standing buck naked in line with anybody – friends or not – I will try to think of that scene. When I go out to make a run....start my circle with confidence. Pull my gun like I mean it...assume the hunter position and grip the handle of my runnin' irons like Nancy Peloski herself is trying to pry it from my hands. Be aggressive...be purposeful...be Donald.

~

Patty surpassed her Bonfire skills with the best yet. Perfect toe warming coals and little smoke. Dave and Cindy joined us around the fire when they got home. I brought out the apple pie that Jamie Z. had put together shortly after I got here nearly two months ago. It's been in Cindy's freezer waiting to be baked. Cindy doesn't have an oven in her RV. I baked it in my portable Coleman Oven I bought with money co-workers donated for my retirement. Why these newer LQ's come with a microwave instead of an oven makes no sense. I use the thing for a bread box.
I look forward to Patty's evening bonfire each night. Four pairs of boots propped up on the cinder-block ring and faces toward the star filled sky. Discussions of the days events and plans for what the next might bring...all carried into the night in a wisp of smoke that smells of mesquite.

Friday, February 28, 2020

Trail Log: 2-27-2020





  • Trail: Eagle Eye Rd. to Big Little Horn Peak - Apache Mine
  • Miles: 6.42
  • Riders: Self - Lynn - Peter
  • Horses: Jack - Friday - J'Lo
  • Dogs: No dogs


Notes: Took advantage of it NOT being my last day in Arizona. Lynn and Pete picked me up and we hauled south on Eagle Eye Rd. to Big Little Horn Peak Rd. and hit the trail. Ended up at Apache Mine before looping around back to the trailers. The desert is on the verge of blooming. I keep smelling this wonderful fragrant blossom. Turns out it's saguaro blossoms. They start coming out as early as February if it has been warm and it certainly has been that.


Trail Log: 2-23-2020




  • Trail: State Land Aguila to Eagle Eye Rd. - Hobo Camp
  • Miles: 8.24
  • Riders: Self  - Patty
  • Horses: Jack - Mocha
  • Dogs: Hank



Notes: Took off on State Land behind Crandall's (Aguila) and rode to the power line rd through a wire gate and beyond. Came to a homeless camp that survived the downpour earlier in the week. A New Testament Bible was among the discarded debris. It was in surprisingly good shape for being out in the elements. I put it in my saddle bags and brought it back.  We turned around at Eagle Eye Rd. Beautiful weather.



Thursday, February 27, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-27-2020



The Disposable World We Live In
Second chance days don't come around often. Today would have been my last full day in Arizona. Over half that day spent on pre-travel prep. Propane to fill, hay to load, diesel to top off and 4 or 5 days worth of groceries to buy for the road home. The stock portion of the trailer would need to be cleaned, reorganized and repacked. All the water tanks would need topping off and the waste water emptied. But today was no longer my last full day. That day won't come for another week. Today I could do anything I wanted – because today, was my second chance day.

Patty and Cindy had plans of their own. They invited me but I don't think they were surprised when I
declined. I knew they were going to have fun but I wanted to spend the day in the desert on my horse. I text Lynn and told her of my plans. Her and Pete would pick me up at Crandall's about noon. I would throw in with them. My trailer was out of commission for a few days while Handyman Dave did some repairs. One of the horses backed out catching a shoe on the bumper trim. “Diamond plated chrome” my behind. More like cheap Tin-Foil. Dave hammered, riveted and calked the thing back into serviceable shape.

Lynn, Peter and I drove up Eagle Eye Road looking for a good place to park and unload. We settled on FS Rd. 9111 just up from Big Little Horn Peak Rd. It wasn't easy getting the rig in and out, but Lynn maneuvered over washes, around grease-wood and between mesquite bushes like a pro. If it had been me driving – Dave would be busy fixing stuff for a week.

We didn't have a plan or a specific destination in mind. It's a good thing...we didn't have a clue where we were or what to expect....exactly my kind of day. Lizards dashed here and there. If the lizards are out...the snakes are out. We stuck to the roads and open country when possible and kept an eye out for any one of the sixteen species of rattlers. Rattlers are pissy this time of year as they come out of hibernation. I'd like to avoid all 16 types of them.
The desert is on the verge of exploding with color. Orange poppies blanket the southern slopes of hillsides. Vivid green ocotillo arms topped with brilliant scarlet blossoms compete with wildflowers of yellow, purple and pink. The saguaro tops look like they are capped in snow as buds get ready to burst into fragrant white blossoms that smell like honeydew.

We dropped down into a wash and followed it up stream to it's end. It felt like a miniature Grand Canyon ride as the red walls of the little canyon narrowed in on us. We popped up onto another road that intersected the wash. The road led to an abandoned mine. One shaft opened up into a hillside framed in upright timbers. Another shot straight down into the ground like a gaping, lidless man-hole. Both mines were fenced off with a few strands of rusty barbed wire and a sign warning of imminent death should one decide to go mine spelunking.

A late 40's early 50's?? Champion Studebaker chassis riddled with bullet holes and left to rust, stood as a reminder of a society wrought with the mindset that everything is disposable. Who was the last person to drive it? What was their life like? Were they the first owner and if so...did they scrimp and save until they had enough money to buy their first car? The car was a beauty the day it rolled off the assembly line. The new owner bursting with pride and excitement of owning this first set of wheels. The sound of independence and freedom roaring from it's powerful engine. And now, here it sits: a rusted heap of metal discarded and forgotten in the arid desert of the southwest.

Well...that was depressing. Let's move on.

We left the old mine (Apache Mine according to my Garmin) and circled back toward the trailer. I
picked a route that made a loop out of part of our ride. No sense backtracking over country we already rode. We'd picked a ridge line across the highway as our landmark before we struck out...as long as we kept that ridge in sight and the setting sun on our faces we were sure to make our way back. I don't know if my sense of direction is improving or I have an easier time finding my way in the desert. I'm hoping it's a little of both.

We passed the trailer (horse's weren't real thrilled with that one) and rode to the top of the mine I'd hiked to the week before. Lynn wanted to check it out, plus, not stopping right at the trailer at the end of a ride helps to keep horses from getting trailer sour or chargy on the way home...IMNHTO (In My Non Horse Trainer Opinion)


Lynn once again managed to get the rig turned around in a spot I swear wasn't big enough to turn a VW bug around. We stopped at The Coyote for ice tea and a burger before Lynn dropped me and the horses off at home. It's always a bit emotional saying goodbye to Pete. Even after you convince him you will see him again before heading out...he gets teary eyed...I get teary eyed...he grabs you in that all encompassing hug before making the sign for friends and promising to call. A rusted old Studebaker might be disposable...but good friends are anything but.




Wednesday, February 26, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-26-2020

Photo courtesy: BLM.ORG 

I've been in a frump the last couple of days. Watching the end of my adventure creep nearer is a bit depressing. To take my mind off it – I signed up for another Kenda clinic. I cleaned out my trailer to make room for Cindy and Patty's horses – Cowboy and Mocha. I might as well use the septic dump while we were there. Plus, taking my rig freed Dave up to take the bumper pull roping. A person might get the impression that boy likes to rope.

Cindy spotted a band of wild burros on a hillside. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to appreciate them. “If I didn't have to go home in two days, maybe I could have spotted a herd while out riding and snapped some pictures. I bet if I had a little more time, I could have spotted a Javelina, too.” Instead of appreciating all the amazing things I've seen and done in the last two months...I've been busy focusing on the ones I've missed.

J'Lo did really well at the clinic. Me...not so much. Kenda said my form is great...I'm riding good...my course management and lines are spot on. The reason I'm missing balloons is I'm shooting too soon. I need to “slow my mind down.” I have to remember to “Shoot late and you'll be right on time.” “If I didn't have to go home in a couple days...I could take a few more clinics and start hitting all my balloons again. What do I care...I'll just donate for the weekend shoot in Vegas, go 'home,' kick rocks and eat worms.”

Dave met us at Chili's for a late lunch after the clinic. I don't normally eat out this much. “What difference does it make. I have to go home in a few days. Doesn't matter if I pack on a few extra pounds from greasy restaurant food. The extra layer of fat will help keep me warm when I'm back in Idaho freezing my ass off.”

I was happy to see Patty eat something besides cold scrambled eggs. The space formerly known as her tooth was feeling a little better. She would know more about her travel schedule after her dentist appointment next week. I told her to keep in touch and I would wait in Alamo after my Vegas shoot and we could travel back together from there. Dave and Cindy shook their heads: “Oh for crying out loud, quit your belly aching...scratch Vegas, enter Winter Range here at Ben Avery and travel back together so neither one of you are traveling out across the godforsaken desert alone. we are sick and tired of you whining about not wanting to go home.” That's not exactly how they said it...but the meaning was close.

In that moment....the entire restaurant filled with dancing unicorns and rainbows. I don't have to go home in two days?! Patty's tooth...or the space formerly known as her tooth...had bought me a good week. I feel like I should pick up the dentist bill.

Cindy rode home with Dave. Patty and I pulled out of the Chili's parking lot in brighter spirits than when we arrived. We jabbered away as I kept a close lookout for the burro's. Patty spotted one off by itself. I missed it, but that's OK. I had another week to look for burro's, Javelina and maybe even one or two of the sixteen species of rattlesnakes that live here.

Patty was already planning the bon-fire she would build when we got “home.” She realized what she said as soon as she spoke the word: “Home.” “It feel's like home, doesn't it? I mean Aguila...it feels like home.” Yes Patty...it feels like home to me, too.”

Tuesday, February 25, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-25-2020


Does Indian Jones Do Laundry?



Something you don't see in all those action adventure movies: the leading role calling for a cease fire in the battle between good and evil to add fabric softener to the rinse cycle. sadly...in reality, even the best adventures must be put on hold if one is to live them out in clean underwear.

There was no way of topping yesterday. I embraced the fact and deemed it laundry day. The laundromat wasn't particularly exciting. No cross dressers handing out Harley shirts...no creepy dude in the corner watching you fold your underwear. Just me and Sam Flatt (“Fake News” thriller by author Jerry Hatchett) unfolding the cyber clues that will ultimately lead to the shocking plot twist at the very last chapter.

There were more 'out of order” dryers than the week before. Fortunately – there weren't nearly as many people fighting over the few available. I didn't have to wait to swap from washer to dryer. The folks that came in after me weren't so lucky. My clothes dried with 15 minutes to spare on the dryer timer. A tall kid who looked to be fresh off the Team Roping circuit had the same expression on his face as I had last week waiting for a dryer to open. I took pity on him same as a lady took pity on me last week. I pulled my clothes out of the dryer and saved it for him. Relief washed over his face as he thanked me and joked “We could probably make a pile of money by setting up a clothes line out back.”

I stopped at Safeway for groceries before heading back to Aquila. The Tuesday flea market was in full swing. I swooped in to see if the denim jacket I saw last Tuesday was there. It was not. Maybe next year. I made one last stop at the post office and the dollar store just because. I was going to miss everything about this little town. Everything but Pa and Boy...but everything else!

Dave came home from...well, roping of course and Patty and Cindy shortly after. The girls (Patty, Cindy and Rachael) had taken a road trip up to Yarnell and hiked the memorial trail. I stayed behind not wanting to get car sick for three days. They had a great time and should be proud of themselves for hiking over 6 miles straight up and straight down.

Dave, Cindy and I went to the Coyote Den for dinner. I wasn't really hungry – but I wanted to visit one more time before heading north in a few days. Man...I was really going to miss everything about this little town...except maybe Pa and Boy...but everything else, for sure.

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries:2-24-2020

FIREBALL MINGLERS AND MINIONS


I am officially a groupie. A fan of destiny sounds less “stalker-ish” but whatever. Several years ago – I came across a song I really liked...”Come ride with me” by singer/songwriter Dave Stamey. Further investigation into this Dave Stamey guy revealed I liked just about everything he performed. He soon became my favorite singer/songwriter. I was thrilled a few years ago when my Aunt and I went to see him perform at a Cowboy Poetry Contest in Utah. I was especially impressed when he whipped out his pocket knife to cut the cellophane off a CD he autographed for me. What a guy...

A few months ago, I got a notification that Dave Stamey would be in Utah again. I asked my Aunt and Patty D. if they wanted to go see him. Patty was up for it – but asked why go all the way to Utah when he's coming right here to Weiser? No kidding? Weiser Idaho? If that's not destiny, I don't know what is. I jumped on-line and bought the tickets.

Fast forward ...I get to Arizona and find that Dave is playing here in Wickenburg. While I am more than delighted to see him in concert twice in one year...it gets even better. Not only is he playing that venue, but he has also been booked to do a private house concert hosted by the Newman's in Cave Creek – organized by life long friend and mounted shooter – Ken Jones. I don't know Ken personally, but Dave and Cindy do. Cindy jumps on the phone, contacts Ken and asked if there is room for a couple more at the dinner/concert. Ken obliged. I will love him forever and ever in a not creepy way.

It was set. I'd get to see my favorite performer and all around swell guy not only in concert, but in a private house concert! Call me a groopie...call me an obsessed fan...call me a stalker if it pleases you...I call it destiny! I'm showering AND combing my hair for this one.

We did chores early so we could get in a short ride before getting ready for the dinner/concert. Cindy drove into Wickenburg to pick up our potluck items and the B part of BYOB. I've recently learned that does not mean Bring Your Own Balloons....so I had her pick up Fireball instead. Patty and I loped off into the desert and Dave...well, Dave worked up the arena and...I know it's hard to believe...but swung a rope on the dummy up until the last minute. Doesn't he realize this is Dave Stamey we are talking about? There are some things in life that trump even roping, Dave. Maybe Dave C. isn't as impressed with seeing Dave S. as the rest of us because, in a way, Dave C. see's Dave S every time he looks in the mirror. Dave C. could be Dave S.'s stunt double if Dave S. were to be in the movies. Pretty sure Dave C. can sing, too. He call's himself a closet singer but I heard him one day playing the guitar and singing in the LQ when he didn't know anybody was around. Not bad...if the whole roping thing stops working....just saying.

True to my word – I showered, combed my hair and even put on clean pair of pants...and not just previously shaken out clean, either. Clean as in not yet been worn since laundry day. Patty and Cindy looked as gorgeous as ever. Dave looked as if he'd been primping all day instead of driving tractor and swinging a rope. Men...they can put on a clean shirt, run a comb through their hair if they got it and look like they worked at it all day. Go figure.

I'm not much of a mingler. I sort of knew a few people – but not well enough to initiate a conversation. I'm way to introvert for this kind of thing. I headed for the last place I left the fireball. The bartender accurately assessed that I looked like I could use a drink. Why yes I could...Fireball please. I forgot to ask for the Sprite part of it until the cup was ¾ full. By the time I got half of that down...I was a mingling machine. I have no idea what 99% of those people were talking about. I just smiled big and nodded a lot and said affirmation things like, “uh huh? Oh yeah?..and “No kidding! Haha.” I do remember one conversation where a group of ladies were talking about how boring trail riding is. The non-mingler part of me wanted to jump in and defend trail riders. “Boring? I don't know what sort of trails you ladies ride – but they don't sound anything like the sort of trails we ride! Ride with me sometime and we will reevaluate that statement after/if you make it back alive.” The new, Fireball sipping mingler just smiled big, nodded and said...”huh...oh yeah.”

I looked around for Patty before the non-mingler, Fireball sipping me popped up. She had Dave Stamey backed into a corner, deep in conversation. I 'mingled on over' – I can do this. I have Fireball on my side. Patty introduced us. Dave shook my hand. My really cold hand that had been holding a cup full of Fireball on ice. “Sorry ...I have cold hands.” That's it. That's all I could think of to say. He introduced me to a lady standing beside him. Megan? Morgan? Ed? I have no idea. I had cold hands. I should probably run them under hot water. I excused myself...”I'm going to go wash my hands and get something to eat before the food is gone.”.Dave agreed.

Ken Jones, a musician in his own right, opened for Dave. Ken has a pleasant voice and is a talented song writer as well. He sang a few of his original songs. Dave stepped up to the mic shortly after Ken. I think he sounds as good or better live than in a recording studio. There aren't many singers you can say that about. His voice is unique enough to set him apart from other performers of his genre. His sense of humor is as genuine as it is unapologetic.

He sang songs that I was familiar with and a few new ones. One of my favorites in the first set is the title song for his newest CD “Good Dog.” It wasn't “Old Shep” sad – but it was sweet and hit close enough to home to threaten a few tears. He engaged the audience on a couple songs by having them sing a long. Dave C. was to my left – Cindy C. to my right. I figured Cindy could sing. She greets her little dogs every time she comes home using this adorable voice. I can't explain it. It's super high-but perfectly on pitch. The best I can describe it is a happy little girl minion. “What's you doiiiiing!? LUUUUCY! How's my puppieeeees!? OH MY GWAAAD....Why you barkiiiing...VIOLET!!!” It just makes me smile. When she belted out the words along with Dave S...I wasn't surprised how good she sounds. I cocked my head to the left? Is Dave C. singing along? I don't think he is. His foot was tapping but if he was singing, it was too quiet for me to hear. Closet singer. I wish I could sing...I would be belting it out like Cindy. I can't carry a tune in a bucket.

A 20 minute break until his last set. I perused the kitchen table laid out with stacks of CD's. I picked up the newest album, 'Good Dog' and continued to browse. Someone behind me asked which album was the best. I said they all are. He asked which was my favorite. I had to think about that. I can tell you my favorite songs: “Come ride with me.” “Campfire Waltz.” “She always wanted a buckskin horse.” “The bandit Joaquin” Favorite album? I'd have to wing it. The Fireball mingler stepped up to bat. “Come ride with me” - that's my favorite album.” Even if it weren't true – it got him out of my hair so I could finish purchasing my CD. I hand the lady my $15.00 and turn around to leave. Dave Stamey plucks the CD out of my hand, whips out his pocket knife to slice open the cellophane sleeve and signs my CD: For Laurie...Dave Stamey. OMG...he still carries a pocket knife. I said something even more stupid than, “I have cold hands”...something like - “OMG, you still carry a pocket knife” and whip out my pocket knife and proudly exclaim that I too...carry a pocket knife! Dave looks at me sort of puzzled and says: “Who the hell doesn't carry a pocket knife, especially if they mess with horses?” I swear if that man weren't already married, he'd be my next future X husband.

The final set was somewhat shorter than the first. Even guys who carry pocket knives are effected by the cold. Dave wrapped it up with one of my favorites: “Come ride with me.” It was an amazing evening. I've been on this adventure for close to two months and there are days when I still can't believe I am here. Each day brings something different. Some days, of course are better than others...but as Dave C. said when I first arrived. “A bad day roping is better than a good day at work.” That's how I feel about this journey I've been on: A bad day living out your dreams is better than not daring to dream at all.

Monday, February 24, 2020

The pumpkin cheesecake diaries: 2-23-2020




You can hardly tell we had as much rain as we did yesterday. The ground soaks it up like a thirsty sponge. There is no mud to speak of...not like up north. It would take a week or two for it to dry out if it rained this hard in Weiser.

I tinkered around close to camp most of the morning. The fender light I'd ordered to replace the one that got wrecked came in on the UPS truck a few days ago. Installation was fairly simple. A little electrical tape and a dab of calking...good as new.

Patty and I rode after she got back from church. The rain really brought out the colors of the desert. Orange poppies, purple lupine and a plethora of tiny wild flowers spring forth from a sea of green grass brought on by the rain. It won't be long and the desert will be an ocean of blooming colors. I wish I was going to be here to see it.


We rode to the power-line and turned East toward Eagle Eye Road. I'd ridden to the fence line when I first arrived. I turned around then, not knowing if it was private land on the other side. We have since found out that it is public access. Patty let us through the wire gate and we were off to explore new country.

Up on a small rise, we came to what looks to be an abandoned homeless camp. Old mattresses, blankets and other debris scattered about and hanging from bushes. Most odd was a Bible discarded among the trash. I picked it up and examined it closer, flipping through pages of big, easy to read font. It was in surprisingly good shape. You would never know it had been left out in monsoon type rains. I have a hard time leaving trash laying around but there was too much to carry out on two horses. I tucked the Bible into my saddle bags and left the rest behind.


We rode as far as Eagle Eye Road. Eight or Nine miles on soggy, wet sand was enough of a workout for the horses. Patty noted the number of baby saguaro sprouting up we hadn't noticed on the way in. That is one of the things I like about the desert. It's always changing. Different lighting depending on the time of day or the season...each bringing it's own, unique visual experience. We spotting a cluster of small, round cactus that neither of us had seen before...you know it had to have been there the other times we rode by. A Google image search revealed it to possibly be strawberry cactus.
~
Dave didn't have much confidence in our fire starting abilities with as wet as everything was from the rain. Dave does not fully understand Patty's obsessive compulsive desire to build fire (OCDTBF). Patty and I jumped in the side-by-side in search of firewood while Dave and Cindy went into Aguila for dinner.

A propane torch and 4 amazon Prime cardboard boxes was not getting the job done. We could not admit defeat to Dave. The fire was waning fast. More cardboard wasn't helping. Drastic times call for drastic measures. I had just the ticket under the back seat of my truck. Enter....32oz can of Kingsford lighter fluid.

When it was said and done – that fire could be seen clear to the Mexico border. By the time Dave and Cindy got home, it was burned down to a perfect, foot warming fire worthy of praise. The can of lighter fluid stashed strategically out of sight on a need to know basis.

We sat around the fire looking up at a beautiful, star filled sky. Orion stood guard over our backs as we traced the ladle of the big dipper to the north star. I don't like to think on how near the end of my time here is. I wish I was ready to head back north. If I didn't have to get back, I would stay until the 16 species of rattlesnakes, jumping cholla and the heat drove me out. But...I'm not going to think about that right now. I still have a few days and if I've learned one thing, it's too take each day as it comes and live it to the fullest. You don't know what wonders that one day has in store.


Sunday, February 23, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-22-2020




It's been raining cats and dogs since 4:00 AM and Friesians, Quarter Horses and Gypsy Vanners since 2:00 PM.

The rain pelting the top of my LQ woke me up at 4:00 AM. It subsided long enough for me to feed the horses and clean pens...then pour some more. I didn't think much of it until Patty banged on my door and said she was out taking video of the washes running full with rain water.

I've been told it happens around here especially in the summer when the monsoons hit. Until you see it first hand - you don't grasp the magnitude. There are signs all over the roads that say: “Turn around – Don't drown.” Flash flooding is a regular occurrence here. If I didn't take it seriously before, I definitely do now.

The plan was to drive into Wickenburg for the Cowgirl Cadillac horse sale hosted at the Rancho de los Caballeros golf course. Mother nature wasn't fully cooperating. Even if we could get out of the driveway – we might not be able to get back in if the culvert washed out. Dave determined “we'll probably make it but we might have to park a ways and walk back. Don't worry – it won't be more than 3-5 feet deep.” I packed a swimsuit before I came south but I didn't think I'd be needing a life preserver.

We made it to the golf course without needing a pontoon boat...getting back might be a different story. The rain was not letting up. The sale didn't start until 2:00PM so we had a couple hours to kill. We found a buffet in out of the rain and pretended like we were guests of Rancho de los Caballeros until they kicked us out: “The buffet will be closing in 5 minutes.” We got the hint on the second reminder.

Everyone crowded under whatever overhang they could find and watched the rain come down in sheets. Would they postpone? The sale was being held out in the open on a circular section of lawn surrounded by bleachers and plastic chairs. I was about to ask Dave for the keys. A good nap in the Long Horn was not out of the question...it was, however, out of the wind and the rain.

Ike, the stock contractor putting the sale on, must have a direct line to to someone higher up in charge of the weather...or he's the luckiest horse trader in Wickenburg. Not two minutes before the sale started and the clouds parted and the wind and rain stopped dead. I was so thrilled I thought I just might pick me up a bidding number.

They had everything: Quarter Horses, Gypsy Vanners, Andalusian crosses..toss in a few Friesians and a pony and you could walk away with just about any color or shape of equine your little heart desired. The only requirement was a bidding number and a whole lot of disposable income.


I was shocked at the first horse going for 24K dollars. An average looking palomino that was nicely collected and loped amazing tiny little circles. If “Taylor Swift” could have laid down, sat on her haunches and let a dog jump on her....she would have gone for 50K. Several of them did. While golden palomino's seemed the most popular – they weren't the only ones going for high dollars. Red roans and buckskins with lot's of chrome were a close second. However, if your name is “Blue Chip Investment” you don't have to be palomino, buckskin or red roan. You just have to be a huge, quarter horse friesian blue roan and somebody out there will write out a check for 225K. That's Two Hundred Twenty Five Thousand dollars. To hell with a horse. For that kind of money I could buy myself a place in Arizona and have money to spare! I've never seen anything like it.

Apparently I don't have expensive tastes in horses. The ones that I liked the best went for the least amount of money. A nice black gelding that looked like he would do anything for you went for 19K. A light buckskin that was put together well sold for the lower end of 15K.

Sorrels got the raw end of the deal. I don't know what it is but people don't seem to like a red horse. An old roper told me years ago that you should never overlook a red horse. I agree. In my opinion, people are breeding out the mind and sound conformation for color and chrome. Some of the nicest built and kindest eyes in that sale were sorrels that went for much less than their flashy counterparts. But...to each their own. I'm happy with my cranky little sorrel and big roman nosed buckskin.  I wouldn't trade them for all the “Blue Chip Investment's” in the equine world.


Friday, February 21, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-21-2020


Blake, my youngest, turns 28 today. What the hell...my youngest is damn near 30? How did that happen? It all goes so fast. I try to remember that during the bad times: this too shall pass. It will all be over in the blink of an eye. I just wish we could slow down the good times.

Patty and Cindy rode over to watch Dave rope at Silver Bit. I want to make the most of what little time I have left in AZ and scoped out some places to explore. I left the horses in the pen, loaded up the dogs and went for a mini road trip out Eagle Eye Road.

Eagle Eye takes you behind the Harquahala Mountains from Aguila, crossing Tiger Wash multiple times before ending at the Salome Hwy. The saguaro are thick on this side of the range and appear much larger in height and diameter. Beautiful country as far as you can see.

I drove down several four wheeler roads to park and explore. One road led to a non-functioning windmill. Another led to a windmill that was in production pumping water into large holding tanks for cattle and wildlife. According to my inReach - this is called the “Tiger Well.” A sign prohibited parking due to it being a water source for wildlife. I parked up the road a ways and walked back to take pictures and check it out. I've never seen an actual windmill in action. The sound this one made is surprisingly soothing and could be used in those relaxation audio clips you have Alexa play when you can't sleep. “Alexa...play soothing windmill sounds.” I'll have to give it a try when I get back.
There are several mines on both sides of Eagle Eye Road. “ Black Nugget” - “Black Queen” - “Apache Mine” - “Mollie Davenport” - “Knabe Mine” to name a few. The best I can tell – I checked out the Black Nugget. Upright timbers stand like centenarians on a hillside covered in orange poppies and purple desert lupine.


The landscape changes rapidly from rolling mesquite covered hills to jagged purple mountains serving as a backdrop for saguaro forests that stretch for miles. The view opens up the closer you get to Salome Hwy into what looks like the African Savannah. I hoped to see a Javelina or group of wild burro – but half expected to see a giraffe stroll by instead.

I turned around where Eagle Eye Road intersects Salome Hwy. There is a lot more to explore in this one area alone. It might have to wait until next winter but I plan to haul out here one day next week before I head ...north.


The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-20-2020

Dave and Cindy

The life of a snowbird is not all fun in the sun. Yesterday was laundry day...today was septic dump day. I have it down to an art. I can whip into the 76 station, dump the tanks...sweep over to the diesel pumps and be back on the road in under 10 minutes. Not exactly a skill I thought I'd be proud of somebody but I kind of am! It's the little things I guess.

Patty had a less than stellar day. She went in to the dentist and came out minus one tooth! She made the appointment thinking it would be something minor. The tooth was split in half and they had to pull it and put in a spacer. You could tell she's been in pain since she got to Arizona. She's been trying to downplay it but it was written all over her face. She hasn't lost her sense of humor, though. She said “Laurie came to Arizona and got four new tires and a converter....I came here and got a new tooth!” I am praying that she feels better tomorrow. She hasn't eaten hardly anything since she got here. I'm fairly certain you can't survive on scrambled eggs indefinitely.

Gary and Roger came over to rope. I ran the shoot for the first run through and took pictures the second run. I don't take a lot of action photos (it shows). It seemed easier to do with my old .35 MM film camera back in the day. I feel like you had more control of things with the old SLR film cameras.

I took the dogs and horses for a short walk/graze after practice. The horses aren't use to being on dry hay this long and are missing the green grass! The up side to controlling their feed is they stay in better shape.

I roped Smarty the dummy for a few minutes before putting the horses up and doing the evening chores. I made Rice A Roni for dinner and practically forced Patty into eating it because damn it, you cannot live on cold scrambled eggs forever!

Cindy and Cowboy



Thursday, February 20, 2020

Trail Log: 2-18-2020 to 2-20-2020




  • Trail: State Land - Aguila
  • Miles: 10.5
  • Riders: Self - Patty
  • Horses: Jack - J'Lo - Mocha


Notes: Been forgetting to keep track of my trail miles so guess-timating on the low side. Been riding up the bigger sandy washes to get some good long trotting/loping in.


Trail Log: 2-11-2020




  • Trail: State Land - Aguila - Burro Valley (that's what I call it)
  • Miles: 8.14
  • Riders: Self - Patty
  • Horses: Jack - Mocha 
  • Dogs: Hank


Notes: Shooting practice after

Trail Log: 2-10-2020



  • Trail: Behind Tombstone Livery to O.K. Corral sign
  • Miles: 4.71
  • Riders: Self  - Lynn - Peter
  • Horses: Jack - DJ - J'Lo
  • Dogs: Hank


Notes: Last day in Tombstone. Rode almost to Tombstone proper and snapped our picture in front of the O.K. Corral billboard. Cut cross country on our way back and rode through brambles where a "rabbit wouldn't go." Loaded up and headed back to Aguila/Wickenburg.

Trail Log: 2-9-2020

Peter and J'Lo



  • Trail: Tombstone Livery to Tombstone Monument Ranch
  • Miles: 4.53
  • Riders: Self - Lynn - Peter
  • Horses: Jack - DJ - J'Lo
  • Dogs: Hank


Notes: Struck out on our own for a ride.



Trail Log: 2-8-2020




  • Trail: Tombstone Livery to Tombstone Monument Ranch
  • Miles: 4.23
  • Riders: Self - Lynn - Peter - about 17 others
  • Horses: Jack  - DJ - J'Lo


Notes: Made it to Tombstone. Stayed at the Livery. Rode to the Tombstone monument Ranch, aka Margaritaville.

Trail Log: 2-1-2020


  • Trail: State Land - Aguila
  • Miles: 7.03
  • Riders: Self - Patty D. 
  • Horses: Jack - Mocha


Notes: Patty made it to Arizona!



Trail Log: 1-31-2020



  • Trail: State Land - Aguila
  • Miles: 7.28
  • Riders: Self - Lynn, Peter, Linn
  • Horses: Jack - Friday - J'Lo - Shotgun
  • Dogs: No dogs


Notes: Lynn and Peter and Linn, a friend of Lynn, drove over to Aguila and we rode behind Crandall's on State Land. Saw a bunch of wild burro tracks in "Burro Valley" behind the mountains in back of Crandall's place.

Trail Log: 1-27-2020




  • Trail: Hassayampa River Wash
  • Miles: 7.8
  • Riders: Cindy, Marianne, Jamie, Donna
  • Horses: Cowboy - Jack (the only names I know)
  • Dogs: No dogs


Notes: Unloaded at Rancho Rio and rode up the Hassayampa River through Wickenburg.

Wednesday, February 19, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-19-2020


FAKE NEWS
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Laundry day...again. The laundromat was packed. There were more driers out of order than working. One family had 6 or 8 - 30 gallon garden trash bags full of laundry and consumed all but two dryers. A line of angry, impatient people with baskets of wet laundry waited to pounce on those two dryers the second they were free. I can think of more important things worth wrestling over than a large capacity Maytag.


I fired up my Kindle and downloaded the pre-release book I purchased in January titled: “Fake News” by friend and author, Jerry Hatchett..Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Purely coincidental, Jerry? You may need to work on your subtly. When sniper, Bruce Berringer dropped “MBC anchor Chad Scott” in front of the New York building I almost stood up and cheered! To hell with drying my basket of clothes – that right there was worth hanging out in the laundromat for a week.

A lady emptying one of the free dryers took pity on me and saved it until I could wheel my basket of wet clothes over before somebody cut in. I shoved everything I had in that one dryer...fed the machine $2.00 in quarters and went back to the adventures of Black Ops agent: Sam Flatt.

Perfect timing. I was folding the last of the clothes when Patty and Cindy pulled in to pick me up on their way to Cave Creek for a mini road trip. I moved my truck to the far end of the parking lot and jumped in with the girls.

Cindy drove us to Lake Pleasant for lunch at Dillon's Bayou on the harbor. Parking is a considerable distance from the restaurant. A shuttle takes you part way to the harbor where you jump on a pontoon boat to be shuttled the rest of the way in. I wasn't too sure how that was all going to go with my tendency toward motion sickness and water phobia. I stayed centered on the dock best I could and tried not to think too much on the sea faring abilities of “Captain Ron the volunteer” piloting the boat.

After we paid our bill, it was back across the harbor with Captain Ron and into the shuttle driven by the same driver that brought us in. His name was John. He was a kick in the butt. A sign hanging on his rear view mirror read: Gratuity appreciated. A button on his back let you know John, like Captain Ron, is also a volunteer. How much does one tip a shuttle driver? I stuffed a $5.00 in the tip jar and called it good.


I imagine Cave Creek looks a lot different now than it did just a few years ago. Construction is booming across the State it seems. Beautiful big houses going up everywhere from the valley floor to the tops of rocky peaks. The town, like most of the others I've visited, caters to Snowbirds and tourist.

We shopped the “Southwest Bedazzle Boutique.” As the name implies...we were adequately bedazzled by the contents. You couldn't put a pin on an empty spot in that place. From wall to ceiling inside and out...every square inch covered in colorful metal art, sculptures, rock art, clothing, trinkets and more. We each found something we couldn't live without before heading to the Dairy Queen across the street.

Cindy pointed the Dodge toward home. I was just talking about how I would like to see a wild burrow when I spotted a group of them off the side of the road. It was a quick glimpse...but at least I can say I saw them. Next on my list of sightings is the elusive Javelina. My adventure isn't over yet – I remain hopeful.


Tuesday, February 18, 2020

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries - 2-18-2020


It was a kick back day. Patty and Cindy took a drive to Surprise and Dave, well...Dave probably went roping. I had the place to myself with no plans to do much of anything but tinker around close.

Aguila has a flea market every Tuesday. Today was the day to finally check it out. They didn't have as much as the big Quartzsite one...but they had a little bit of everything including...OMG! It's Pa and Boy! I can't tell you what Pa and Boy were peddling..I didn't linger long enough to find out. Boy was everywhere I looked and in need of a bath. If I didn't spot him out of the corner of my eye, I could smell him from across tables of 1980's CD's and turquoise jewelry. I hastily paid for my 2 blankets, tossed them in the front seat and got the heck out of Deliverance.

I set up a shotgun course in the arena and had myself a little shooting practice. I would skip main match and shoot nothing but shotgun if it were allowed. It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Who determined that a barrel of monkeys would be fun? I'm thinking a barrel of monkeys would be creepy as hell.

I put J'Lo up and saddled Jack with the intent of swinging a rope off him and getting him use to Smarty. Blake's roped cattle off him but I haven't. I expected him to freak out. He doesn't like it when ropes are swung around him but didn't mind at all when I “attempted” to swing one from the saddle. We then went over and roped Smarty with the same result. Jack didn't care a bit. Two days ago he acted like that thing was out to eat him.

Patty remains determined to build a bon-fire every night she is here. We gathered more wood to accommodate. I brought out the remaining four candy bars and shared them. I'm good for about an hour around the fire before I start yawning...and evidently I am allergic to mesquite. It makes my head stuff up immediately. It's 7:30PM and I am ready to turn in. It can be expected – I am a year older, after all.

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-17-2020



Being a February baby, my birthday's usually involve long underwear and searching for winter ground with decent footing to ride. Spending the day in a tank top was a first...and definitely not the last.

Another first involved my youngest son, Blake. Every year Blake calls to wish me happy birthday in his rushed, competitive tone. “Morning Momacita..what'chadoinghappybirthday has anybody else called? Am I the first? Every year I have to tell him that his brother or sister beat him to it. “DANGIT!” Blake is my trophy boy. If there isn't the chance of a blue ribbon at the end of it...he's got better things to do. Only he can turn a birthday wish into a competition. This year was no different. Blake's “rawhide” ringtone let me know that my baby boy was calling to wish me a happy birthday. “Good morning momacita! Happy Birthday! What'cha doing...am I the first? Has Athena or Dillon called yet?”
It did my heart good to finally be able to tell him that he was indeed the first person to wish me happy birthday. “YESSSSS!...ok, well, have a good one” Click.

The first thing on my birthday list was to visit Sam the Saguaro – the first cacti I befriended upon arrival. I took the dogs to see Sam on our morning walk. Sam isn't much of a talker but he does have a sense of humor. He wished me happy birthday by photo bombing rabbit ears over my head during a selfie.

Patty and I drove to TSC in Wickenburg to measure the fender for my trailer one more time. This would be my third trip in to measure that damn thing. No matter which way I measured – the fender was not going to fit. It wasn't a total waste of a trip – I'd walked out of the store the day before without paying for my propane. I made right the great propane heist and headed back to Aguila.

I didn't see the text from Dave asking me to let him know if the fender wasn't the right size until we got back. It must have been a rhetorical request. I found him hammering dents out of the aluminum fender I would have tossed in the ditch if it were not for an aversion to littering. What looked like a wadded up piece of tin foil was now straighten over the tandem wheels looking nearly good as new. A few more taps of the hammer, a couple of self tapping screws and some calking and you would have to look pretty hard to tell anything happened. Patty suggested we add to Dave's business card:
Dave Crandall
Handy Man and Auto Body Repair Services
“Specializing in Damsels In Distress”



Normally it is my neighbor who has to bail me out of all my misadventures and fix whatever I've managed to break that week. It appears that job has fallen to Dave. I'm kind of wondering if my neighbor isn't sending him money every week to keep me here so he can have a break! If your going to have friends...they might as well be friends with skills.

Gary and Stevie from across the road at Silver Bit came over along with Bob, Jeff and Roger to rope. I helped Stevie run the shoot while the boys got in some practice heading and healing. Blue eye will run left on you. White tail is a runner. As much noise as Blackie makes in the shoot you would think he'd be a runner...but he's more of a walker/trotter. Panda likes his ears scratched and Little Red makes the saddest moaning noise you've ever heard. I scratch his nose and tell him it's going to be ok. He licks my hand. Yes, I have them all named. What do you expect...I named a cactus.

They ran the steers through several times before putting them up. Bob stayed to rope Smarty the roping dummy. I had nothing to do with that name, he came that way. If it had been up to me, I would have called him Maxwell. (Maxwell Smart...get it?)

I volunteered to pull Smarty around the arena. Seems like an easy task. Drive the side-by-side around in a big circle while somebody ropes the horns or hind feet. Nope. Just when I think I'm getting the hang of it – somebody wants you to speed up, slow down...speed up coming into the corners but slow down going out of them....or the other way around. I was so confused. I need clarification: SO, you want me to slow down or speed up at the apex of the corner? Crickets. Team ropers know the exact weight, dimension and material required for the perfect swing...but don't bother asking about such things as an apex. They give you kind of a funny look. I had to admit defeat and pretend like I'm from Missouri: “Show me.” Dave gave a quick Smarty the dummy steer demo on where to speed up and slow down to teach a horse not to overrun a steer...”cuz that can get you killed.”

Dragging Smarty around is dusty work – but it's kind of fun. Plus – there is the added benefit of picking up on roping pointers. I started to learn to rope about 30 years ago. My spouse wasn't the most patient person and I wasn't the most receptive when it came to him telling me what to do. I don't take well to being yelled at – intentional or perceived. My roping career ended in a cloud of dust and a few choice words.

I had to get a quick ride in. Who knows what horrors might occur should I miss my birthday ride. I saddled Jack and towed J'Lo and went for a quick run up a sandy wash. Jack sailed up that wash like a powerful jet-ski and every bit as smooth. You would think the deep sand would bog him down but it doesn't. He loves to run. We probably should have gotten into endurance.

Spending my birthday dinner at the Coyote Den was akin to wearing Dollar Store Underwear. Cindy would not hear of it. Dave rounded up his girls and drove us to Cowboy Cookin' for dinner. As much as I like the Coyote –I doubt they had bacon wrapped shrimp on the menu. OMG – so good. They serve rolls to die for, too. Dave is a roll connoisseur. “You poke a hole in them like this...then you fill it with a gob of butter like this...kind of smash it together and let it set until the butter melts. Then you pick it up like this and EAT IT!” Dave is very enthusiastic about his Cowboy Cook'in rolls. I don't blame him – I didn't want to be rude or I would have eaten the entire basket.

I don't know if I was having hot flashes (I'm a year older, it's bound to happen) or if I was suffering the effects of the Hawaiian Cowboy I ordered to drink. It had Pendleton, coconut, sprite and something that turns it Smurf blue. I'm in denial with the whole hot flash thing so going with the Hawaiian Cowboy theory.

The Cowboy Cookin staff brought out a dish of ice – cream with one candle in it (fire code and all) and sung Happy Birthday before we headed for home. A bouquet of candy bars in a cute smiley face vase waited for me in my trailer from Patty. There were 5 candy bars and a bag of cookies. There are four of us. You can't easily split 6 items among 4 people evenly...so I ate two of them. Dave has his OCD...I have mine.