The Pumpkins Cheesecake Diaries: 2-9th thru 12th - 2020

Boot Hll

2-9-2020:

It wasn't looking like a good day to ride. Cold, windy and if the weatherman was correct, there was a 50% chance of thunderstorms later in the day. We decided to drive in to Tombstone and visit boot hill. If the weather improved, we would saddle up and ride later.

Boot hill is indeed on a hill. The name is derived from the fact that many of it's occupants died a sudden and violent death “with their boots on.” Boot Hill is not unique to Tombstone. Cemetery's baring the same name are located in Hays Kansas, Dodge City Kansas and Deadwood South Dakota to name a few.

The grave markers in Tombstone's Boot Hill memorialize infamous names such as Frank and Tom McLaury and Billy Clanton – three gunmen killed at the 30 second gunfight located near the O.K Corral. I've always wondered what O.K. Stood for. A quick google search and I wonder no more. The term originated with our 8^th President, Martin Van Buren. Van Buren was supported by a political club in his home town of Old Kinderhook originally called the “Oll Korrect” club. The name was later changed to “Old Kinderhook” and then shortened to “O.K.”. Van Buren was an O.K. Club member, and his supporters used the term as a general descriptive term for their candidate who they saw as “above average” or “outstanding”.

The term then seems to have largely disappeared from use until some time after the Civil War. Eventually it came back into general use, and was thus chosen by John Montgomery to describe his “O.K. Corral, Livery and Feed Stable” which he founded in Tombstone, Arizona in February, 1879.

(Copied from “HistoryNet.Com)

George Johnson: "Here lies George Johnson, hanged by mistake 1882. He was right, we was

wrong, but we strung him up and now he's gone." Apparently, Boot Hill is not without a sense of humor..albeit a sadistic one. George was accused of horse thievery when he unknowingly purchased a stolen horse. Unfortunately for George, his innocence was not discovered until after they strung him up. Oops. “Let's put this funny little jingle on his Tombstone. That will make hanging an innocent man seem so much less tragic.

Walking through any cemetery is a somber experience regardless of how famous, infamous or notorious it's inhabitants. The violence and futility of life carved on row after row of tombstones brings to front how fleeting life can be. Many of the body's beneath the graves were ripped from life in their late twenties or early thirties – usually in a tragic and/or often violent act. But perhaps the most somber are the dozens of graves marked “Unknown.”

By noon the weather had calmed down a bit. By no means warm and still a tad breezy – it was tolerable. Lynn was ready to ride: “Let's do this.”

I wanted to see how close we could get to Tombstone. I was still disappointed we couldn't ride in to town on our horses without notifying Congress beforehand. We headed East to the Power-line road. A huge bulletin Board featuring “The O.K. Corral – Gunfight Daily”, beckoned. It wasn't Tombstone proper – but it was close enough. We snapped our picture in front of four giant size renditions of Doc Holiday and the Earp brothers.

After our ride to the edge of Tombstone and a quick session on lead changes in the Livery arena – we cleaned up a bit and drove to Margarita-Ville for dinner. We didn't know for sure if we were allowed since technically we were not guest at there. We were welcomed and encouraged to stay and listen to Johnny Bencomo, “The Man with the 18 String Guitar.” There are only two 18 string guitars in the U.S. Johnny owns them both.

2-10-2020

We saddled up Monday morning for one more ride before leaving Tombstone. We took several new trails we hadn't been on and one that Lynn determined was used solely by Javelina and illegals. Cross country travel in the Arizona desert is not for sissy's. It's also not for anybody with any common sense. Why stay on a perfectly groomed trail when you can venture off into the unknown and possibly get yourself in a world of hurt? Because you can.

Why our horses didn't buck all three of us off is a miracle. Jack picked is way through vegetation fit only for Satan's front yard. Cholla might jump – but thorny brambles have a reach that defies the laws of nature. They have tiny hooks on each thorn that grab on to you like evil Velcro. It doesn't release it's hold on you without ripping it off. Much of it was belly high on the horses. Sometimes I don't know why my horse puts up with me.

Cowboy Doug dropped by to say goodbye as we were breaking down camp. I thanked him for making room for us at the Livery on short notice during the peak season. He thanked us for staying at the Livery and for bringing Pete. He thought maybe he'd smile a lot more if he hung around Pete. That is true. Pete has a way about him that makes people smile despite themselves. Cowboy Doug handed me a signed copy of his book: “Horepowered Poetry” by Cowboy Doug and waved goodbye.

I held my breath all the way through the Border Patrol Station. It wasn't necessary. The agent barely looked at me...just nodded and said to move on. It was a bit anti-climatic. “But...I've got guns, CBD oil and an expired license. Shouldn't I at least deserve a stern talking to?” It explains why Clint Eastwood was so successful as “The Mule.” Old people can get away with a lot of shit that would land others in prison.

The drive home was uneventful – which is a good thing when driving through Phoenix or Tucson. The new 202 bypass cuts off most of the hectic traffic through Phoenix. We had 12 to 15 miles of stop and go traffic west of Phoenix but other than that – we arrived safely at Lynn's without incident.

We were all exhausted and didn't feel like cooking much for dinner. Lynn made a big batch of pre-cut chocolate chip cookies that we devoured before calling it a day.

2-11-2020

Pete had a chiropractor apt. so I had the house to myself. I was in no hurry to get back to Aquila. I did a load of laundry and worked on our Snake River Rangers Outlaw Roundup Flier for our shoot in May.

I took advantage of the down time to call about my retirement disbursement, or lack off. Trying to prove I am me was a lot like riding cross country through those thorny brambles. When it was all said and done – I'm not sure anything got resolved. I'll call back in a few days and try again before putting my application in at the Family Dollar. 

I arrived in Aguila late afternoon. It was good to be home. The place hadn't changed much except for the addition of a couple team ropers from Northern Idaho who will be staying for a week or so. I turned my horses out in the arena and set up camp out back. I still can't plug in for fear I'll fry my new batteries. I think it might be the converter/inverter thing...but I'm no electrician.

It's peaceful back here – I think I might stay in this spot even if I do get the electrical figured out.

2-12-2020

I am having a hard time catching up on my blog. My goal is to blog each night – that goal say's nothing about the length or format. So...here goes.

1. It's Wednesday
2. I slept in
3. Took the dogs for a walk and visited Sam the Saguaro. He hasn't changed much since I've been gone. Just as prickly as ever.
4. Patty and I rode Jack and Mocha to Burro Valley. It's not really called that – but I named it that because of all the wild burro tracks in it.
5. Did a little rock hounding before heading back to kill some balloons.
6. Patty, Cindy and I jumped in the side-by-side and gathered some firewood for a bonfire. No marshmallows...lame. Note to self: Buy marshmallows at Dollar Store.
7. Dave entertained us with stories around the bonfire. That guy should have been a cowboy poet...or a comedian.

Patty and Mocha in Burro Valley