Trail Log: 4-17-2025

 

• Trail: N. Eagle eye to Robson Mining World
• Miles: 10.19
• Riders: Self - Celia
• Horses: Drifter - Dirt
• Dogs: Groot

Notes: Well, that was a fun day I almost passed up. We had made tentative plans to ride but it was windy when I got up to feed this morning. I can easily be talked out of riding when it comes to the wind. I text Celia if she wanted to go..."it's pretty windy" I said. She pointed out that if we didn't go, we'd just sit around and be lazy. Shit...OK. If Celia's not wimping out...neither am I! I threw Drifter into Run-around-Sue and picked Celia and Dirt up at her place. We rode out to where I'd earlier seen a side panel of a car hung in an old cactus and used as a target. I'm happy to report, somebody took it down. 

 

The area is not far from the trail leading in to Robson's Mining World. Celia has never been there so off we went to remedy that. It's one of the first rides I took Drifter when I started riding him. I was happy to see it was still open and even more happy to see Michelle, the caretaker, still at it. We tied up outside the town and walked in to find Michelle hard at work. She keeps that place immaculate.  She gave us a deeply discounted tour through the buildings since Celia hadn't seen them. It's one of the coolest places and a real treat to get to visit. 

 

Ice cream parlor

After the tour, we climbed back on our ponies and headed across the desert to my trailer. We were starved, so drove straight to the Coyote for lunch. I started to remove my leg holster and noticed my pistol was missing! Shit. I had a pretty good idea where it fell. We were loping along and I thought I felt/heard something. I had already dropped my hat twice and one glove...so I sort of patted my self down: Hat...check, gloves...check...sunglasses...still on my face. Figuring it was my imagination...we loped on. Meanwhile...back at the Coyote and halfway into our drink order, I get a sick feeling: somebody is going to find it and commit a heinous crime I'll be accused of. I'll be sentenced to live out my golden years in an 8x8 cell with a broad shouldered gal named Helga with really hairy legs. I wasn't that hungry...the Coyote can wait. We jumped back in the rig and backtracked to where we hauled. It was a simple matter of following Drifter's tracks to where the pistol lay...right where I felt it escape it's holster. *phew* - Dodged that bullet...sorry Helga...no doubt your a nice gal and everything...but I prefer my hairy legged companions with four hooves.  

At least I didn't lose my horse