Trail Log: 3-26-2020

Barely see the tiny horses way down there in the meadow

• Trail: Grouse Creek
• Miles: 3.34
• Riders: Self
• Horses: Jack and J'Lo
• Dogs: Shade and Hank

Notes: Sticking close to home to comply with the Stay at Home order issued by Idaho Governor Brad Little. I think it was the right decision. Better to come out on the other end of this thing complaining about how we over reacted then coming out on the other end feeling like we just went through the black plague.

A little cold in the morning but a beautiful day. It's not so much getting in the miles these days as it is just getting out in the sunshine. I opted to take Shade as far as she was willing to go. We rode up to a meadow, hobbled the horses and went for a hike up a steep ravine. I expected Shade to stay with the horses while Hank and I explored. We hiked straight up - dropped into the ravine across an intermittent spring and popped up the other side. I looked up and spotted Shade on the highest point watching us. She kept us in sight and followed taking the easiest route back to the horses. At almost 12 years old, that dog amazes me.

I must be preoccupied lately. I had forgotten to buckle one side of my saddle bags. They caught on a sagebrush limb and ended up under Jack. They weigh nearly as much as a saddle. He grabbed his butt before I realized what had happened. I'm looking for a hornets next or some other horse eating thing before I notice them swinging under his belly. He didn't like it, but he froze in place and let me crawl under and untangle the mess with little more reaction than a snort or two.

There wasn't nearly the number of people as there was before the shelter at home order. A few days earlier, Steck was swarming with people shoulder to shoulder. Most with out of county plates - all acting like it was a big party opportunity. What few people I saw after the order were staying a good quarter of a mile away from the next. I hope people continue to comply until this thing is eradicated or it might never end.

COVID-19: The New Normal

Toilet paper and toilet paper alternatives

Holy crap Batman (pun intended) where has all the toilet paper gone? I swear, the single most predominate thing I've learned so far in 2020 is how much our lives revolve around poop. From where to store it, how to get rid of it and now how to wipe it off your backside when the product has vanished from shelves everywhere.

I thought when my snow-birding adventure came to an end, my life as it pertained to poop would return to normal. No longer would I need to scoop poop from horse pens. No more searching for an RV septic dump to empty  black water. No more searching for dog turds in my fellow snowbird's yards like some grotesque Easter egg hunt. I assumed everything concerning poop of any kind would vanish from my daily routine once I returned home. Not so. One major item that did vanish from the daily routine concerning poop, was toilet paper.

I don't know what is more shocking, that people are actually hoarding a product that is in no danger of becoming extinct, or the means that people will go to obtain it. Their very being has been altered by a 227 gram,or lack of, roll of 2 ply.

I comply with social distancing much like I live my normal day to day life. I saddle up my horses, load up the dogs and hit the trail. One of my first outings was the Weiser River Trail. I expected the vaulted toilet at the trail head to be void of T.P. It's almost always void of T.P, COVID-19 hysteria or not. What I did not expect was the senseless vandalism of the vaulted building itself.

It looked like somebody had taken a machine gun to the outside of it. I don't know if the Friends of the Weiser River trail had locked it up in anticipation of people steeling the toilet paper – or if somebody shot it up because there wasn't any T.P to begin with. Who knows what goes through the minds of the T.P possessed.

The first thing I thought was wow.....what a waste of ammo! If they would do that over a roll of rest stop 1 ply – what would they do over something needed for actual survival? I hope they wasted their last bullet because those kind of people shouldn't be carrying.

I'm learning just how little T.P a person actually needs on most occasions. Gone are the days of the double handed spin of the roll...releasing yards of a protective barrier between hand and the nether regions. As I sat on the cold porcelain throne, meticulously folding two squares four times over to create some semblance of thickness - dad's voice haunts me from the past: “Two squares...that's all you need. Two squares!” Two squares? My mom, sister and I nod wide-eyed in pretend agreement: “Sure dad...two squares. You bet.”

It's been several weeks since the beginning of the great T. P-apocalypse of 2020. Store shelves are as bare of paper products as when it all started. I got lucky once. I was pushing my cart down an isle that should not have had paper products according to grocery store merchandising 101. Maybe somebody picked up 2 packs on a 1 pack limit and set this one on a random shelf. I reached for it, placed it in my cart and continued shopping. I subconsciously placed other items over the pack to conceal it from other shoppers view. Because they look. Oh yes, they look. Every shopper looks into every other shoppers cart. You can't help it. And we judge each other on the contents of those carts. That lady has enough cat food to feed every cat in the county....hopefully she actually has cats. Those people there are going to have spaghetti for the next 6 years. I tried not to judge the man with twelve loaves of bread dangling by the bag ends in each hand. It was hard not to when he instructed his wife to “grab some more...there's still some left!”

I can no longer deal with the insanity. I've stopped searching for toilet paper and toilet paper alternatives altogether. If I run out before this is over, I will install a bidet and learn how to speak french.

COVID-19: The New Normal

I beg your pardon...I never promised you a rose garden

For the majority of my praying life – I have asked God for stronger faith. I'm not sure what I expected...that He would wave a magic wand over my head and just like that...bibbidy bobbidy boo – I have faith galore? Pretty sure that ain't the way God rolls. What value would it hold if God merely sprinkled us with faith dust and POOF – you have an abundance of the stuff? I believe God gives us the choice – trust in Him and he will see you through each day.

Joe South wrote the lyrics sung by Lynn Anderson: “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.” Those lyrics sound, to me, more like what God has in store for us. He begs our pardon...he didn't promise us a rose garden. Instead, he has given us all the tools we need to grow our own.

A sense of peace washed over me as I watched my one year old granddaughter explore a world that to her, is brand new. She bent down and picked up a plain rock indistinguishable from a thousand that to her, was special in some way. She thrilled in the feel of wet sand between her fingers. With a stick grasped tightly in her pudgy little fist – she would close her eyes, tilt her head toward the heavens and relish the gentle breeze in her face. She has few words at this time in her life. She needed none. She was soaking in the moment. The sun on her face and the smell of the river carried in the wind. The corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile at the sounds of gulls overhead. She was at peace. Her father stood close by watching over her as she played. He would keep her safe at any cost. She didn't need to learn this from the news media. She didn't have to read it in a book. It was within her. Total and complete faith that her father would provide for her and keep her from any and all harm.

We all have such a father. He's watching over us. He loves us. He wants nothing from us but to love him back and to put our faith in Him. No, he does not promise us a rose garden. What he does promise is to never leave us nor forsake us: Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." Deut:31-6

There is no denying these are tough, uncertain times. We are all scared – especially those of us who have never lived through true adversity. It can't always be sunshine and unicorns. Sometimes life requires sacrifices and inconvenience.

Now is the time to utilize your God given tools. Plant that garden now, because Along with the sunshine, there's got to be a little rain, sometimes. And all gardens need a little rain.

COVID-19: The New Normal

LET THEM EAT CAKE

Every possible media outlet is consumed with COVID-19. You can't turn on the TV, tune into a Radio Station or go on-line without being bombarded by this journalist or that talk show host delivering their angle on the crisis: It's a political ploy to bring down the economy in order to prevent President Trumps reelection. The virus was intentionally released by the Chinese as a form of bio-warfare. It's all hype – it's no worse than the common cold. It's a means to initiate marshal law and control the people! Stop the sale of guns! Yeah...that will help! Take guns out of the hands of those ignorant red-necks...that will stop it!

We heard snippets of COVID-19 in Arizona. It originated in China. Concerns of it spreading to other countries seemed valid. It was highly contagious but also a high survival rate. You might get it and not even know it. The elderly and immune compromised were most at risk. It felt...distant. It was happening somewhere else. Nobody seemed overly worried and went about daily snowbird life. The Family Dollar had Clorox Wipes and T.P to spare.

A mere four days had passed since I returned from my Snowbird life. I'd been gone for two months. The house was cold and empty when I stepped over the threshold of my front door. After spending 60 days living in an 8 foot short-wall – it felt cavernous...excessive.

I built a fire in both wood stoves and took inventory of my pantry. I added just about everything to my list: Alexa, add T.P to shopping list. Alexa, add milk to shopping list. Alexa, add rice and pearl barley to shopping list. Alexa, add pinto beans to shopping list. All stuff I usually have on hand . In preparation for my snow-birding adventure, I'd consumed what I could and took most everything else with me. My pantry was sparse at best. I tossed my reusable grocery bags in the front seat and set off for Win-co. I may as well not have bothered...one measly bag of pearl barley doesn't take up much room in a grocery bag.

We, my fellow shoppers and I, resembled cart pushing zombies as we passed each other in the isles – glancing from one side to the other in awe of the emptiness. No cart coming within 3 feet of the next in an attempt to conform to the laws of social distancing. In the blink of an eye, a microscopic entity had changed our whole world.

It's like nobody could believe it was happening here in the good old United States. How could we be out of toilet paper? Where did it all go? Did they suddenly stop making it? Had the Spotted Owl of the 80's finally won it's day in court and paper products were no more?

I thought – OK, fine...I don't HAVE to have toilet paper to survive. Food I need to survive. The items I normally buy had gone the way of the T.P conundrum. No peanut butter, no beans, rice or oatmeal. I found one small bag of pearl barley for my oxtail stew. It's a good thing I like oxtail stew. I picked up a few things I don't normally eat...prepackaged food chuck full of preservatives and MSG.

I turned down an obscure isle in Win-Co without a hint of what was supposed to be on the shelves. They were bare. I slowly pushed my cart down to the end in disbelief. A man pushing his cart was a respectable distance behind me. I glanced up..tucked back on the very top shelf were two cardboard boxes with the contents hidden from view. I stepped on the bottom shelf and tippy-toes to flip them over so we could see what they were. Two broke open cases of generic tissue paper. The man and I looked at each other like we'd just struck gold. I put 4 boxes in my cart and left the rest.

I pushed my cart through the isles trying to find substitutes for the things I couldn't get...which was pretty much everything on my list. No flour...scratch that idea. I started to pass up a few small bags of sugar scattered haphazardly on a bottom shelf. I don't know what good sugar is going to do me without flour. I picked up a bag and sort of stared at it for awhile. My dad would be horrified at the condition of the merchandise. What little product there was upside down...backwards...tipped over or pushed to the back. I grew up stocking shelves in my dads grocery store. To this day, I cannot walk by a shelf and not straighten it up if need be. 

I put the sugar back and before I realized it I was knelt down pulling bags of sugar to the front of the shelf and setting them up right. I fought back tears. My god...I miss Dad. If he were here, he would know what to do. He would gather us all up and implement “the plan.” My family would be O.K. We would survive this. It is what dad had prepared us for since we took our first steps. But he is not here. It is just me in this damn grocery store trying to straighten and restock shelves that some hoarder is going to violate again all too soon. I would not partake in the hysteria. I placed the sugar back on the shelf, wiped my tears (yeah, that's right...doing so meant touching my face! So much for step two of the five steps of avoiding the creeping crud according to Google.) A man pushing an almost empty cart appeared in my isle and spoke: “You better take it. It's the last you're going to find in town.”

Each store was the same. Empty shelves replaced toilet paper, rice, beans, oatmeal and baby wipes that once vied for consumer attention. No longer did “fancy” products touting quilted softness smelling of spring rain lord over generic 1 ply economy. I'm certain if somebody wound sandpaper onto an empty Charmin spool, there would be a greedy T.P hoarder willing to snatch it out of the hands of a child.

Fresh out of ideas of what to put in my cart, I headed toward the checkout with my bag of pearl barley, 4 boxes of Kleenex and a 4lb sack of sugar. Two full shelves of cake mixes and frosting caught my attention. I picked out two spice cakes and two tubs of cream cheese frosting. What the hell...I raised my chin in “Marie-Antoinette defiance” and murmured under my breath between clenched teeth: “Let them eat cake!” The man from the sugar isle smiled and chuckled: “You going to be OK?” Damn straight I'm going to be OK! I am my fathers daughter. We don't need no stinking toilet paper or toilet paper alternatives...I am a Bryan, we were born for this!

FAITH IN WHAT YOU CANNOT SEE

There are some who choose not to believe in what they cannot see. The same who ridicule believers in a God that to them, cannot be seen with the naked eye. I ask them now: can you see this “thing” which has caused you to hoard baby formula to put in your coffee because it last longer than milk( also disappearing from shelves at an alarming rate)? This thing you cannot see has driven you too stockpile more toilet paper than you can possibly use in a year. I pity those who choose to put their faith in microscopic organisms and butt wipe...but considers themselves too “intellectual” to put even an iota of faith in Jesus Christ. I was deserving of my own pity.

Fear is all consuming. How will I pay my bills until the markets recover? Will the markets recover? Will this hysterical hording cease before grocery stores run out of anything healthy to eat? What if I am a carrier of the virus and I give it to my neighbor with one lung and a compromised immune system? What if my kids are laid off from work? How will they manage? Is this the end? What if...what if.

I am not an idealist. Faith does not come easy to me. I wish it did. I have a tendency to focus on the “what ifs.” I play out every conceivable scenario my imagination can manifest and try to work out a “plan” for each.

1. Shelter: What if I lose the farm? Solution: I'll live in my LQ on my property in Oregon. I spent 2 months living in that thing with 2 horses and 2 dogs and was happier than I've been my entire life. I have too much shit anyway...time to downsize.
2. Food: What if we can't buy food? Solution: I can hunt and fish. I'm not much of a gardener – but my sister has the greenest thumb this side of the Jolly Green giant. Its not who you are, it's who you have in your clan.
3. Water: What if we lose power for an extended period of time? I know how to distill water until I get a hand pump put in the old well.
4. Mobility: What if there is a run on fuel and you can't fill up? Solution: Keep enough fuel to get out of Dodge with the horses. Horses = transportation. My dream come true.

I speak for myself only when I say the majority of what I fear comes from a lack of faith.

What if I put faith in what I cannot see? What if I give my fears to God instead of carrying them myself? What if I trust in Him to provide for my daily needs? The Bible says He will. Do I not trust in Him to do as He promises? Why is it so easy to believe the words you hear in the media but not in the Word of God?

What has this misdirected faith gotten me but stressed out and fearful; all over something I cannot see directly. Yes – we can feel the effects of this microscopic entity: the markets plummet – the media reporting doomsday headlines – people panicking – shelves emptying – jobs lost. The sky is falling...the sky is falling.

Just stop. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. It's time to change the plan.

~

Trail Log: 3-21-2020

• Trail: Weiser River Trail
• Miles: 7.32
• Riders: Self
• Horses: Jack and J
• Dogs: Hank

Notes: In the 20 years I'v been riding and hiking the WRT I have never seen this many people on it.  People must be going stir crazy or they just want to get out and get their minds off the COVID-19 nightmare. They wander around like Zombies. Some will speak to you - others barely nod and stare past you without making eye contact.

At any rate - I rode past the first gate to the RR tie meadow and hobbled the horses for lunch. It did them good to graze on green grass for a while. It's been dry and the spring grass isn't coming up very fast. Plus, I tore out half my pasture and planted dry land pasture seed in hopes it rains enough to bring it up. I'm not much of a farmer but my alfalfa looks pretty good so far this year.

"Social distancing" is something I've lived with most of my life - but it sure seems to be freaking out other people. Bizarre situation we humans got ourselves in...time will tell a lot about us as a race soon enough.

The horses are practicing Social Distancing. Kind of sick of that phrase. 

Trail Log: 3-14-2020

• Trail: Steck Park - Brownlee Res. Overlook
• Miles: 5.3
• Riders: Self - Jones
• Horses: Jack - Raycine
• Dogs: Hank

Notes: Jones drove down the hill to ride with me out Steck Park. The footing is great for this time of year. We cut it a little short due to Raycine being newly trimmed PLUS we wanted to get to Mann Creek before all the raspberry cream cheese chimichanga's were gone. We split the last one and didn't feel too guilty about not sharing with Dusty.

I forgot my camera and phone camera. Too focused on dressing in 18 layers of clothing - still in Arizona mode thinking I'm going to freeze my butt off back in Idaho. In reality - the weather has been really nice since I've been back. I was able to work my arena the first week back. The ground is better than it's ever been since putting it in!

Trail Log: 2-29-2020

• Trail: Powerline Rd. - Harquahala Mountain - Sheep corrals
• Miles: 11.1
• Riders: Self - Patty
• Horses: Jack and Mocha

Notes: A ride of the unexpected. Riding along on a dirt four wheeler road, look down and see a big turtle moseying across the path. A desert tortoise, according to google image search. We watched it for awhile, fed it some purple flowers and went on our way. Rode the base of the Harquahala Mountain and followed a faint trail to some rock ruins nestled back in a canyon. We were told it was an old sheep corral, but there is also a mine close by so it could be a mining camp. Not finding anything on-line about it yet. The desert is starting to bloom out and the snakes are waking up from their winter hibernation. This was my favorite Arizona desert ride so far.

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries:3-3-2020

It felt like the final day of my snowbird adventure was a miniature replay of the last two months. I squeezed in a little bit of everything. This blog piece will also be brief for two reasons. 1. I want to be up early to get things squared away so we can hit the road as soon as Patty is back from her dental apt. 2. I'm on battery power and my laptop is about to die.

I finished cleaning pens and feeding by 7:30 AM. Cindy had things to do out of town and Dave had a business meeting at Rancho Rio in Wickenburg. For everybody that has been reading my blog, you know the previous sentence is total BS. For those reading The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries for the first time: “business meeting “ is code for “roping” if it involves Dave.

One of the many things I'm going to miss about this place is taking my dogs for a walk every morning. You can step out your front door and walk in any direction for as far as your legs can carry you. There are no roads, no concrete – no traffic – no buffalo gnats or mosquitoes. There is something interesting to see down any path you choose. I think the dogs will miss it, too.

After our walk, Patty and I drove into Aguila to check out the Tuesday flea market. Many of the same vendors set up their wares every week. I looked around for Pa and Boy. I must admit part of me was a little saddened they were not there. I bought a vintage oil lamp from a guy that could have been Boy's other brother, Boy. I will think about them every time I light it. I plan to light it a lot. Not so much because I will miss them...but because after my encounter with them at the Family Dollar, I'm a little scared of the dark.

We stopped at the Coyote Den for ice tea before heading back home. I saddle Jack and J and set up a few random cones and barrels. I worked on loping Jack around the cones and barrels in no particular order. We increased our speed as we (I) got more comfortable. Jack did great...he gave me more speed and rated back when I asked. Granted, I wasn't shooting but he did all I asked of him without getting chargy on me.

I swapped to J'Lo. Patty came out to watch and help me work on my lines. She set up the “S” pattern I'd taken the scenic route on at the Winter Range shoot. Cindy had suggested I don't think about shooting and just start running through a course maintaining speed. Between doing that and Patty's coaching on course management...it was like somebody turned the lights on. J'Lo shot through the pattern making flying lead changes and sweeping barrel turns like a jet ski...all without ringing her tail. All I have to do now is hope I can shoot that fast. I am looking forward to practicing what I've learned this last two months from Kenda, Cindy, Patty, Rob and others when I get back to Idaho. Once it all comes together – I know we are going to do better.

Cindy made reservations for 10 at Nicholes West in Congress for a Snowbirds farewell dinner. We met up with Jamie Z, Rob and Shelley B. and Mari and Dan M. at the restaurant. Half way through dinner I felt a bit of melancholy set in. I was really going to miss these people – and so many others I've met on this journey. I can't express the kindness and generosity of damn near every person I've encountered since arriving in the little town of Aguila Arizona 60 days ago. The melancholy lifted as suddenly as it came on. This is not goodbye. I will see these people again! Many I will see at shoots throughout the year; others more often as we live in the same State...some as close as the next town.

While I'm not thrilled about going home – I am less distraught about it than I was when I thought I was leaving a week ago. I would choke on using the word “home” when referring to Weiser Idaho. I would call it 'north' or “The place where I pay taxes” ...anything but “home.” That is ridiculous. Referring to any one place as home does not lesson your attachment to another. Home truly is where my friends and my critters are. It is said that home is where your heart is. I'm OK with that now...because I've discovered that my heart is big enough to encompass two geographically separate places over 980 miles apart. I could not have said that two months ago. Two months ago, I was a new retiree. Today...I am a Snowbird.

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 3-2-2020

Today was not exactly a blog worthy day. The sporadic weather bouncing back and forth from rain, sun, wind and a little lightning thrown in...made it a good day to run into Wickenburg. I topped off the propane, filled up with diesel and bought a few groceries for the road trip North.

Patty felt like a coffee from Starducks. She ordered the least froo-frooey drink she could find. If you order a plain coffee they look at you kind of funny. I stared at the overhead menu in a bit of a fog. Nothing recognizable here except the word tea. I ordered the least complicated item with the word tea in it: a $5.00 Matcha Green Tea Latte. Tasted like something my horses would have enjoyed; pureed timothy grass pellets. I'll stick with my .20 cent cup of Lipton. It's cheaper, tastes better and I'm thinking less likely to cause colic.

We stopped at the Coyote Den on the way home to order an ice tea to wash down the Starbucks. The Coyote was hopping! Not sure what was going on in there but you got the feeling the locals were having a get together and nobody invited the snowbirds.

I wanted to take the dogs for a walk and say goodbye to Sam the Saguaro...again. I said goodbye when I thought I was leaving a week ago..but this was for reals this time. I don't wish another broken tooth on Patty even if it would get me another week. Really...I don't. Honest. Besides...the snakes are out and only going to get worse.

We made our way cross country toward Sam keeping a sharp lookout for snakes (all 16 species of them), bobcat the size of cougar, scorpions, quicksand, jumping white cholla, Javelina AND desert snapping turtles.

I said my goodbye's to Sam. He's always been the silent, stoic type unable to show his emotions. Today was no different...but I knew underneath that spiny exterior lay a cacti's heart distraught with grief over my leaving. “Farewell you old prick...until next year.”

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 3-1-2020

ALL ABOARD FOR COURSE #22

A quarter to five comes pretty early for a snowbird. I fed the horses at 5:00 AM and prepared to hit the road by 6:30 AM. Normally I arrive at a shoot the day before. I like to get settled in and not feel rushed. ..sort of 'get all my balloons in a row' type thing. This would be my first shoot were I rolled in the morning of...shot, and rolled out. Wasn't nearly as stressful as I thought. You didn't have time to stew about things and work yourself into a ball of nerves. The downside being you didn't have as much time to visit with your shooting friends. Somewhere along this adventure I've become a social butterfly. Eh...maybe not a butterfly...more like a social caterpillar that will one day morph into a butterfly...it could happen? Right? No?

The Winter Range shoot started at 9:00 AM. A three stage, one day shoot paying fastest time per class per stage. No overall class payout. I entered main match and shotgun.

Cindy, Patty and I, along with horses, Cowboy and J'Lo (Patty didn't enter), pulled into Ben Avery shooting facility a little after 8:00 o'clock. We paid our fees at the office and prepared to shoot.

The Senior Lady's 1's go first in this part of the country, unlike the Pacific Northwest where we start with the upper class 6's and work down to the 1's. I prefer it when they start with the sixes. I like to watch them run so I can see the proper way to run a course. Starting with the 1's is a bit unnerving for the 1's. I am a SL3 -regardless of which end they start on, I'm going to be in the middle so I'm relatively unaffected either way. My friend Lynn is a SL1 and was first out of the gate today. I have to hand it to her, she handled it in stride and had three good runs.

My first course was acceptable. I shot clean. I didn't ask for a lot of speed. I tried to run it in a way that took up the least amount of real estate. I would run it different next time. I would run it taking wider barrel turns and less lead changes. Smoother will always be faster. Shoot and learn...

My second run was a train wreck. Well, more of a train ride, actually. A nice leisurely train ride through the countryside. I'm still not certain what happened other than I got completely and totally lost in the pattern....which totally sucks because it's one of the easiest patterns to run. It's called the “S”. By the time I crossed the finish line – I had run the entire alphabet. I 'think' what happened is we over-ran the first gate which shot us out toward the rundown barrel. Instead of cutting back across the arena to the second gate – I got lost – holstered and drew my second gun, turned the rundown barrel...realized too late what I did and ran toward home. I changed my mind just before crossing the timer. I paid my money, damn it...I was finishing the course. I circled J'Lo and made my second pass at the rundown barrel. I'm fairly certain I heard a collective “WTF” from the crowd. Now I'm totally confused on which gun to draw. I shoot AT the second gate (couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if I were standing in it at this point) and make a third pass at the rundown barrel? By this time I'm out of ammo on whichever gun I pulled. When it was all said and done, I made two if not three rundown barrel turns, two rundowns and still left four balloons standing. Some days your the ammo...some days you can't shoot yourself out of a wet paper bag.

I redeemed myself on the third run. I didn't know it until after I got home, but I won stage 3. I don't know if they will send me a check or if you forfeit by not being at the awards. I hope not...it could be like 6 bucks...that's two boxes of Pop-Tarts and a Twinkie!

If I had known shotgun was not open and limited – I would not have entered. I'm glad I didn't know. I love shooting shotgun whether I win or not. There were five of us in the shotgun class. Three young gals I normally couldn't outrun on their worst and my best day and Don Evans, SM5. Don won first. I placed second shooting against 4's and 5's non gender/non age split. I'll take it even without a check.

Cindy and Cowboy had three beautiful runs winning all three stages in their class and placing 10^th in the overall. Not too shabby!

We stopped at the Mesa for dinner and made it home around 5:30 PM. By the time we got unloaded the wind had picked up putting the kibosh on Patty's nightly fire. We caught up with Dave who had a good day roping on his faithful buckskin “Woodrow” by placing second. It wasn't until I started to type this blog and got on CMSA to see how Lynn and Cindy placed that I discovered I'd won my last stage. Shooting, like life...has lessons tucked within the folds of everyday moments. Today I learned to never give up. It ain't over until the fat lady sings, or...in my case: It ain't over until the SL3 takes a train ride through course #22.

The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-29-2020

Leap Days and Turtle Turds

This will be a brief blog..or an attempt at one anyway. I have to get stuff ready and be up early in the morning to get to the Winter Range shoot at Ben Avery. The blog won't do the day justice. I will post more pictures with it since, after all, pictures are worth a hill of beans more than anything I could come up with verbally.

Patty and I saddled our horses, Mocha and Jack, for a ride behind Eagle Eye Mountain with the intent of checking on the hobo camp to see if anything had changed. We trotted up the deep sand of the big wash to power-line road and headed east. Not far up power-line, we spotted a freshly cut saguaro with a neon orange mark of spray paint. I still don't believe the “Vegetation Management” guys I ran into a few weeks back when they said they were marking vegetation to be cleared that would interfere with the power lines. Nothing this side of the red woods grows tall enough to come anywhere near those power lines. Whatever – this is supposed to be a short blog so I will try to stay off my soap box. Suffice it to say, it was kind of sad. I snapped a few pictures, grumbled and moved on.

The power-line road forks before it ascends through a saddle. We took the right hand fork following a
less established road. We didn't get far when I looked down and there in the middle of the path sits a turtle (technically a desert tortoise) about the size of a small dinner plate. I have never seen a turtle in the wild and sure as shit didn't expect to see one in Arizona! I dismounted and checked him/her out. If I moved...it moved toward me. It ambled over to a flower and snapped it off, then move on to the next. “Don't let it grab your finger!” Patty laughed. We took turns petting and feeding the turtle. I snapped a bunch of pictures and got out my can of Beanee Weenee's for a Beanee/Turtle photo op. How could I not? I could dedicate an entire blog to that one turtle. To hell with Javelina....we saw a freaking turtle! We took care to get the horses around him without stepping on him and went on our way. I could have stayed there and played with it all day.

We passed by the Hobo camp on the other side of the fence line. We would come back to it later. The road curved around to the south through a thick forest of Saguaro. Do they call a whole bunch of Saguaro a forest? It was about the prettiest area I've seen since being here. I did not want to turn around. I'm riding between giant saguaro, blooming ocotillo, teddy-bear cholla and a plethora of other desert flora at the end of February in a T-shirt. I must have lived in the desert in a previous life. Maybe not in the summer...perhaps a migratory nomad.

Another dirt path led toward a box canyon of sorts. Definitely can't leave without seeing what's up there. Large rock formations rose around us. Mine tailings spilled forth from a small mine opening on midway up a mountain to the south. A little farther up the path and a several rock structures nestled into the canyon begged exploration. I asked Cindy about it later and she said it was a sheep camp. That makes sense...there was traces of rock walls used as fencing scattered about. The entire camp was protected on all sides with a good sized ravine that would carry run off and dump it into a sizable reservoir. It would be cool to see running with water.

We looped back and crossed the fence to hobo camp. Nothing had changed...same garbage scattered around...minus the bible I picked previously. I pray that the people who stayed there have found a place to stay out of the elements. I had a gut feeling from the items left behind that a family had stayed there; from blankets and small mattress pads to a pair of pajamas belonging to a child or young adult. Dog toys and a box of empty propane bottles were among the items. The discarded debris didn't suggest it was a weekend camping trip. But why leave it all behind? What happened to them? There was other garbage along the power-line that was obviously dumped out of laziness and disrespect...this seemed more desperate.

We were back in the big wash. The horses got a little antsy as a man in a white shirt, light colored horse and towing another horse, appeared and disappeared through the mesquite and grease-wood bushes. Range cattle did the same all around us. Patty pointed at the bushes lining the wash. “A SNAKE...it's a big one, too!” I got a glimpse of the thing as it slithered through the bushes...for a long time. It was a big one. The rattlers were out. Maybe it is time to head north after all.

A bit of the old Jack appeared under my saddle...on the muscle and gnashing his teeth. The guy towing the horse was talking to another guy on a four wheeler out checking on the cattle. He didn't know we were there. The four wheeler roared to life and started across the wash. I was afraid he was going to cross the wash where Jack pranced and chomped at the bit. Fabulous...I would get bucked off AND snake bit. I stepped off before I got dumped. Four wheeler guy made an abrupt turn when he noticed us and crossed in a different spot. I climbed back on and we were off...rather quickly. Jack didn't quit prancing and gnashing until we got out of the wash and in the open where he could see around him. New Jack kicked back in and we were good to go.

We made it home without getting bucked off, snake bit or turtle attacked and saw some amazing country to boot. I gave the horses a bath and turned them out to graze on what green grass they could find. Day's like today should definitely come around more than every four years. Happy Leap Year!