The Prickly Pear Chronicles

 

Waiting for our next stage

12-31-2020:  Drum roll please: And the runner up is....

I'm a tad behind on blogging. One would think that was no big deal. A normal person would simply pick up at the present day and forget about the rest. I'm not that normal. Quirkiness requires that I play catch up. So...no frills – no thrills...here it is in a nutshell. A nutshell? What does than mean, exactly? Whatever it is...it must be one big nutshell because people put a lot of crazy shit in there.

Millican's have finished their beautiful covered arena outside Wickenburg. When I was here last year, Lynn and I watched them put it up in anticipation of one day being able to shoot in it. In the meantime, we sneaked over in the side-by-side and got a closer look at it. It wasn't really trespassing. We were out Javelina hunting at the time...got a little lost and low and behold, we ended up with a front row seat of the construction. That was our story and we were sticking to it!

The arena was complete and ready for Millican's New Years Eve debut. They put on a two day shoot. New Years eve would be Jr. Seniors and Seniors. I'm not sure what the cutoff was, but I managed to fall in the Jr. Seniors. I guess that means your still an old fart...just less of an old fart. It was further split by open and limited. Limited are the 1's through 3's and the opens are 4's through 6's. That made me a Jr. Senior limited lady. Curtsy when you say that, pard.

The payout was also different than the standard CMSA shoot. Payout would be per stage. Basically, if you F'd up on one stage, you had two more to redeem yourself. It was limited to 40 riders. A perfect format for us seniors and Jr. seniors alike. Three stages, 40 riders...should be out of there by 5:00'o'clock. Plenty of time to catch Jeopardy before our 7:30 PM bedtime.

The shoot treated Cindy and I well. Jack and I placed 2^nd in all three stages and brought home clean shooter money. Cindy and Cowboy took two 1^st and a 2^nd. Brought home clean shooter money and placed in the top 10. We brought home over a grand between the two of us. Not a bad afternoon for a couple old farts.

I was as proud of Jack as I'd been if we'd won 1^st. The gal that took 1^st all three stages is, at this time, way out of our league. Jack and I are just getting in sync with this whole shooting thing. With time and a lot of practice, who knows...one day we may be wearing the crystal tiara and making the victory walk. In the meantime, runner up is perfectly fine with us.

1-1-2021: Happy New Years

I already wrote a blog piece regarding New Years in general. To avoid repeating myself, I will climb down off my soapbox and chronicle the day as it occurred.

Cindy and I met Jamie and Donna at the Box Canyon trail head for a customary New Years day ride. Lynn, Pete and I, rode here last year. There was maybe two other rigs at the trail head parking. This year, the place was packed.

Watching the girls back those big rigs into spots I wouldn't want to park a lawn mower was impressive. I would have chickened out and parked along the road. Not these gals. Especially Donna. She had the biggest rig and managed to squeeze it into the most precarious spot without batting an eye...and with everyone watching!

I can back a trailer pretty well...as long as nobody is watching. If I even think I'm being watched, all hell falls apart. I'm lucky to find reverse. Forget it if somebody tries to help. Standing back there twirling your finger clockwise- then twirling your finger counter clockwise. Are you trying to help or are you trying to shake off a bugger? What the hell are you asking me to do here? Are my tires supposed to be going that way or is my steering wheel? And if your looking in a rear view mirror...is that really clockwise or is it the mirror opposite? This isn't working for me. You park the damn thing and come get me when it's over. I'll be at the Mecca enjoying a prickly pear margarita...or two.

Jack and I waited at Cindy's trailer while the others finished tacking up. A large family of kids ranging from 4 to 12 years swarmed Jack. “He's so CUTE!” Jack's been called a lot of things – cute has never been one of them. They fawned over him with little hands reaching up to touch his head, neck and muzzle. Jack has never been a fan of people touching his head other than me. He usually puts his head as far out of reach as possible. He was like the ambassador of equine good will with these little kids. He seemed to soak in the attention as a dozen little hands sought to pet his face and muzzle.

The box canyon ride is popular with ATV's of all shapes and sizes. 99% of them were courteous and slowed down or came to a stop when they saw the horses. The little kids on screaming little machines that sound like lawnmowers on crack...not so much. They don't know better. They inevitably race by with engines revved – freaking out the horses.

We made it to the entrance to the box canyon. It was packed with ATV's. We'd all seen it before and opted to head back to the trailers. Maybe we would find another place to ride. Maybe we'd just go have lunch, drink margarita's and call it good.

Now we had screaming little machines driven by little speed demons coming up from behind. Donna's mare especially did not appreciate it. She'd get pretty wound up. Fortunately, Donna is a good hand. Jack did OK until he noticed the mare and decided if she was upset about something – there must be something out there to be upset about. We had our hands full most of the trip back with our horses on the muscle. I don't think anything bothers Jamie's horse, Ronald...and of all the horses, Cindy's 5 year old little bay Jimmy was the calmest. I swear, that is the brokest horse I've seen in my life.

At one point, Donna glanced at me wide-eyed: “Well, this is intense.” Trying to appear less nervous than I felt: “Yeah, but what a beautiful day to die.” Donna laughed at my inappropriate if not poorly timed humor. I remember Donna from years ago. We use to cut hair together. I won't mention how many years ago...but I will say we still did “permanent waves” and “Shampoo sets.”

People are often shocked when they find out I was a hairdresser. Still am, actually. I keep up my license for some damn reason. I'd just as soon live under a bridge than have to cut hair for a living. They are more surprised still when they find out I am also a big nerd. I don't know why? Apparently ex hairdresser turned computer geeks aren't suppose to ride horses?

I didn't know Donna well back in our hairdresser days – but I remember thinking she looked as out of place in that salon as I felt. Even though I still don't know her well, I can say she looks as comfortable on that little mare as I feel on my big 'ole gelding. I think we've both found our niche and am thankful for it.

We made it back to the trail head. Despite being a beautiful day for it – nobody died. It was unanimously agreed to haul on over to The Palomino for lunch and drinks. After a couple margarita's – I was ready to head back to the Box Canyon and drag race the lawnmowers on crack. Apparently tequila makes me brave.

We opted instead to put in at Rancho Rio and ride the Hassayampa wash. It would do Jack and Donna's horse some good to get a little tired. The deep sand of the Hassayampa takes the snort out of them pretty fast.

We snapped a few pictures and Cindy got a group selfie of us with the Hassayampa bridge's “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” in the background. It was a fun day with some great gals. I got to know Donna and Jamie a little better. I look forward to riding with them again. As long as there are trails to ride and tequila to drink, it is sure to happen sooner than later.

1-2-2021: Initiation at the Coyote and Hit the sand running

Dan and Teri arrived from Idaho. Road weary but happy to be here. I'm sure they would have liked to get settled in...but that's not the way it's done here in snowbird land. You pretty much hit the ground running the moment you step foot on Arizona sand.

First things first: The Coyote Den. You can't call yourself an Aguila-ite without a proper initiation dinner at the Coyote. I had my initiation last year...my son had his earlier this winter and now it was time for Dan and Teri.

First, they had to fix some shit. A less desirable initiation that seems to occur to all snowbirds is the: “If you haul your house down the road, it will break” initiation. Theirs involved a leak in the hot water system. Too late to get parts – we talked them into the clean shooter jackpot at Ben Avery the next morning. We'd be leaving by 6:30 AM. Welcome to the life of a snowbird guys. It's time to hit the sand running.