The Prickly Pear Chornicles

 

1-3-2021: You can sleep when your dead

So...still not caught up with this whole blog thing. This time I'm really going to do it. I'm staying up until I get this thing caught up to date. Even if it means staying up way past my bedtime...like, 9:30.

Today was the second in the CSJ winter buckle series at Ben Avery. We shamed Dan and Teri into entering. They barely pulled in to Aguila before we planned their entire week. “You can get your hot water fixed anytime and you can sleep when your dead.”

Teri's payback for monopolizing their time was to kick our butts at the CSJ and take home clean shooter money. We both made it back to the third stage. I was 5^th out for the 30 some shooters that made it to the final stage. You had to shoot it in under 25 seconds...which basically meant you couldn't trot it and make the time limit. I shot the random clean and figured I had it. All I had to do was split 6 and 7 of the off-set rundown and shoot the rest cross-shots. Instead, I key-holed and stayed on the strong side of the rundown. It made no sense for me to do so – I prefer to shoot the rundown cross. Whatever – that's what I did. We sort of bounced out of the turn – I accidentally fired before I meant to, missing the #6 balloon...blowing it on the last stage. Next time!

Cindy got hold of Dave and we met at the Mecca for dinner. I think. I don't know. Some of these weeks down here go by in a blur – and no, the prickly pear margarita's are not to blame. Not this time at least.

1-5-2021: Where a mountain goat wouldn't go

With no other plans for an entire day, I saddled Jack for a long ride in the Harquahala Mountains. It would do us both good to get out of the arena. If I had to choose between arena riding and trail riding – I'd pick the wide open trail any day of the week. Wide open spaces are good for the heart. I know this to be true because it says so on the beautiful picture hanging in my LQ that Cindy and Dave gave me for Christmas. :)

We rode to the west most point of the hills before crossing the power line road and turning up what I call Burro Valley. I've yet to see a burro out there, but last year I thought I saw tracks. It also looks like a place burro's ought to be, even if they aren't!

I pulled out my binoculars to take a closer look at a big shiny area at the top of a ridge. I've seen it before from afar. The binoculars I carry on me are not the greatest. I couldn't make out what the shiny spot was. A spring? A structure of some sort? Only way to find out is to ride on up there. Probably not the wisest thing to do out here all on our lonesome but what the hell. No pain, no gain. Probably wouldn't be the first adventure that started with a stupid move and likely not the last.

Jack may not be the greatest arena horse or have the “look” that is sought after in the show-ring – but he is hands down unbeatable in the mountains. I would not want to ride anything else in some of the places that horse will go. Once you get off the trails around here – you are pretty much in mountain goat territory. I don't think they have mountain goats around here – but I would not have been surprised to see one.

Jack climbed straight up through loose rock, clamored over boulders and ducked under thick mesquite. We'd start up one direction only to be stopped by a drop off or an impassible wall of rock. Figuring out how to get turned around while precariously balanced atop a wobbly boulder was a feat in itself. For a big horse, he's surprisingly agile. More than once I found myself in “Jesus take the reins” mode. Jack would plant his butt, pivot on his hind legs swinging his front legs 180° over some sheer drop...landing safely in the direction we needed to be.

We eventually rode close enough to identify the shiny spot: A large cluster of boulders in a section of waterfall. Eons of summer monsoons had polished the cluster so it shone like metal in the sunlight.

We'd ridden 5.5 miles in. As customary, Jack took the most direct route back – cutting off a mile or more by jumping washes and tackling any obstacle threatening to veer him from the most direct path to his feed bin. Most of the time I just duck my head, cover my face and deal with the carnage when I get home.

1-6-2021: Mayonnaise contribution.

Teri got us invited to an impromptu shooting practice at Millican's new arena. She was invited...Cindy and I may have crashed the party. We were late arriving. Practice was well underway when we pulled in. Rob Boucher was in the arena coaching. What we thought was a simple practice turned into a clinic. Awesome for us..not sure if it was planned or poor Rob got roped into coaching. Either way, Rob would never let on. I think he gets as much out of coaching others as we do being students.

Being late, I didn't get much of a chance to warm up Jack. He's usually dripping sweat before I put his earplugs in and go to firing. I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to learn from Rob – so I strapped on my guns and went for it. Other than being a tad more pissy about the ear plugs, he didn't act any different than if I'd worked him for an hour first. I guess he's decided we're going to do this thing...might as well make the best of it.

Cindy left Cowboy home and took her cutting horse, Jimmy. She's shot maybe three times on him at home. This was his first shooting experience in a strange arena...a covered one at that. Some horses react badly in a covered facility. The sound is different. He could not have cared less. Amazing little horse.

Dan M. fired up the huge BBQ'r and grilled steaks provided by a couple of the lady's at the practice. Others brought various salads and sides to share. Being as it was a bit spur of the moment – I didn't have anything in my trailer worth bringing. My contribution to the foray amounted to the mayonnaise for Teri's pasta salad. Hey...it's something.

1/7/2021: Here Kitty Kitty Kitty and  Swishy – Swishy...WEEEEEEE!

I can't believe I'm typing up the day's blog and it's the actual day of said blog. I've finally caught up. My OCD is back in check.

Phil said he'd like to go riding the next time we went so I shot him a text that I was heading out. We waited for Teri to get off work and the three of us struck out on state land behind Crandall's.

Here kitty kitty kitty

I got to play tour guide. I pointed out the different flora and fauna as I could recall. More flora than fauna since I don't think we ran into so much as a jackrabbit out there. Which isn't to say there isn't some pretty interesting fauna to be found. A week or so ago, Cheri Philippi sent me a photo of a critter they caught on their game cam. Blair and Cheri's property borders Crandall's here in AZ. The photo is a rather large bobcat strolling through the wash where I walk my dogs most every morning. When Cheri showed me the picture, my first thought was not: “Good hell – I've been stalked by this big predator every morning for the last month.” No, my first thought was: “Good hell – how many pictures do these people have of my bare ass on that camera!?” Cheri just winked and grinned. What does that mean, Cheri? Your not denying it! I need you to deny this. No wonder Blair has a hard time looking me in the eye. Yep...pretty sure my butt is going to show up on some website for perverts: “Granny's got back” or some weird shit.

I never know how long to stay out when I'm taking others trail riding. Usually, they only go once. I'm running out of people who will go with me. I cut it short in hopes that Teri and Phil would be repeat victims.

Phil and Twister

Dave and several others were finishing up roping when we made it back. I'd asked Dave earlier if he would teach me how to rope. I did some roping about thirty years ago. The only thing I managed to catch was the roping shoot as I blew out of the box. That was a rude awakening. I didn't drag myself off the horse but it wasn't something I'd care to try again.

Dave stepped back and had Dan and I swing our ropes at Smarty the roping dummy. “Ok...that's fine. Now don't ever do it like that again.” Bob was next. His name is actually Dan – but for reasons I'm not privy to – Dave calls him Bob. Bob it is. Bob swings his rope at Smarty. “That's fine Bob...don't ever do it like that again.”

Dave then broke it down in several smaller steps. From the different parts of the rope (The spoke – the tip – the belly – the hondu – the coils and the tail. I'm sure I'm missing something. According to Dave – we would forget most of what he showed us anyway.

He then demonstrated how to feed the loop? Build the loop? Whichever – It's the hardest part for me. “Bob” did a much better job at building his loop. However, Bob swings his rope like a fairy. Dave proceeds to explain to Bob how his swing resembles that of a fairy. “Your doing it like this...'swishy swishy WEEEEEE!” I wanted Bob to keep swinging like a fairy so Dave would keep imitating him. Cracked me up. By the time it was over, I was swinging like a fairy, too. “Swishy Swishy WEEEEEEE!” Still cracks me up.

I learned a bunch. I don't know how much I forgot – but I remember enough to get me started. I learned the different parts of the rope. I learned not to look at the horns. Look at the right side of the steers head. I learned the technique for building my loop...even if I still can't quite get it done. I learned how many coils to hold and how to hold them if you want to lose your fingers. I always thought it was in the dally you lost fingers...apparently there's two spots that can happen. Oh goody. Best of all, I learned that if you want a good belly laugh – get Bob to rope like a fairy so Dave will imitate him.

Teri and Jewels