Trail Log: 6-19-2021

Bill - Rob - Linda - Brandy

• Trail: Boundary - E. Pine Crk
• Miles: 10.5
• Riders: Self - Rob - Bill - Linda - Brandy
• Horses: Jack - Payette - Tucker - ? -?
• Dogs: Poor Hank was not happy hanging out in the trailer. 

Notes: Took a break from fence building and joined the SBBCH for a trail cleaning project on Boundary. This area was one of the first projects we did when I joined SBBCH years ago. At that time, we built up a boggy section of trail by pulling out the old boardwalk, hauling in gravel from the creek and creating a drain/culvert for the water to pass without making a huge bog. We were surprised to see it in great shape after all these years. 

Much of the trail had already been cleared by another group (presumably a dirt bike group) - We did a little brush clearing and weed pulling. We did remove a few logs while diverting the trail around a dangerous section too close to a burned out log. The roots were burned away leaving treacherous holes...some of which you can't see until your horse looses a leg in one. 

Mother and daughter team: Linda and Brandy - joined us from the Heartland Chapter. 

Great day with some old friends I haven't hung out with in while. Hope to do it again before too long.

Misty

 

Trail Log: 6-13-2021

•  Trail: Cornucopia Hwy - Tunnel Crk Trail
• Miles: 6
• Riders: Self
• Horses: Jack and Drifter
• Dog: Hank

Notes: Fist ride in a bit after laying Jack off. Wet pasture and a thrown shoe in super rocky terrain left him a bit tender footed. I moved him to dry pasture and have been doctoring his hoof. It appears to be on the mend as he didn't skip a beat  on our ride. I did, however, keep to softer terrain. 

Drifter is evidently half mountain goat. I let him go at liberty and he likes to hike around but never strays too far. If we get a certain distance from him, he comes running. This time, he came running straight off the mountain over a ledge that I swear was practically vertical. He didn't hesitate - flew off the edge...sat down on his butt and slid to the bottom. Crazy pony. 

Drifter getting ready to slide down the cliff

Trail Log: 5-31-2021

 

• Trail: Low Hills - Officer Butte
• Miles: 4
• Riders: Self - Mike K
• Horses: Jack - Drifter - Stuart
• Dogs: Hank

Notes: A short but steep and rocky ride to Officer Butte. Beautiful views of the valley and North Pine area. Mike K. was  planning on riding at the fairgrounds but agreed to go on a short ride in the low hills instead. Drifter has almost outgrown his colt halter! He's getting big and retaining his inky black coat as he sheds off his winter hair. 

Trail Log: 5-28-2021

 

• Trail: Transfer Station - Old Dump - Halfway
• Miles: 6.2
• Riders: Self
• Horses: Jack
• Dogs: Hank

Notes: I intended to take both horses today but Drifter has decided to play hard to catch. I put Jack on the other side of the trailer out of view thinking that would help me catch the little bugger. It didn't. I guess you can't blame the guy. The last time he willingly let me catch him, we threw him down and adjusted his attitude - aka: gelded him. 

I'm too old to play games with a yearling full of piss and vinegar. If I have to play, I'm playing by my rules.  I put the halter down and picked up one of Blakes heel ropes. I'm no team roper, but if that inky black little hellion had horns, I would have had him on the first throw. I got two good swings in and let it fly as he buzzed by going 9-0. I swear he knew exactly how long that rope was. The loop flew over his ears as I let loose of the coils in my left hand. There was a good 10 feet between me and the tail end of the rope as it settled over his ears and dropped on top of his nose. Crap. He didn't break stride...flipped his nose in the air and left 35 feet of four strand poly fiber in the dirt. 

I'm retired. I can do this all day. I recoiled and kept him moving around the pasture. His circles got smaller and slower. I didn't want to swing and miss again. I waited until he ran himself into the covered lean-to. After catching his breath, he turned to dart back out. I didn't have room or time to swing overhand. I made a lucky back-handed swing that caught us both by surprise. I had no intentions of holding on to the rope...gloves or no gloves. I pulled just enough slack it wouldn't slip off and watched as a black blur of horseflesh found a couple more gears - the nylon rope flapping behind him. 

Playing hard to get soon lost it's appeal. I guess he figured out if he wanted the rope off - I was his best bet. I reeled him in, haltered him and tied him next to Jack. I brushed him down, gave him a cookie and returned him to the pasture to sulk while Jack and I headed out for our ride. 

I hauled down The Sag road and parked at the old dump. I remember coming here as a kid with my dad when it was still the actual dump site. To this day, I have a weird fondness for going to the dump. Back then - you could rummage through mountains of discarded trash looking for hidden treasures. Now, there are signs at most dumps: "NO SALVAGEING" - I don't get that. It's the ultimate in recycling and everyone is supposed to be all about recycling/repurposing, There's a lot I don't get about the world we live in today. Why should dump day be any different. 

The old landfill has been filled in for the most part. A few scraps of metal here and there with the addition of the usual human tendency for trashing their surroundings. While I did my best to ignore the litter around me, ignoring the overly friendly man coming out of his camp trailer proved more difficult.

He was fishing, or would be, at the Sag. He'd pulled in the previously night at 11:00 PM. He had horses at one time..or maybe he borrowed them. Riding alone in the wilderness was something he enjoyed. He relished the solitude and silence experiencing nature solo provided.  Really Dude...because you haven't stopped yapping since I unloaded my horses. I wasn't rude. I mostly nodded and agreed with an occasional half-ass attempt at a smile. He tried to approach Hank a couple of times. He has border collies - or had at one time. He wondered if Hank was like most border collies and bit everything that moved. I laughed and said not everything...he wasn't much of a cow dog. I refrained from telling him that Hank wouldn't bite anybody or anything. Still, Hank was more stand-off''ish with this person than I've seen.

Shortly after - another man arrived and set up a rifle target across the draw. I asked him which way he'd be shooting and told him I'd head out the other direction. He agreed that might be a good idea. I climbed aboard Jack and made a hasty retreat as the camper dudes attentions turned to the shooter guy. 

We rode to the top overlooking the valley. A beautiful view...pictures would not do it justice. Growing up here - I've never appreciated how pretty this valley is. We ran into 6 or 8 curious elk. Too curious for my liking. They ran straight toward us. The bull was especially bold. I don't know anything about elk - but if a moo cow was coming at me with head held high and blowing snot - I'd get the heck out of dodge. I waived my arms and whistled until he cut off down the draw out of sight. The rest of the herd regrouped and did the same. 

We started back after reaching the top. A group of ATV'ers were on their way up the steep climb. We passed at least 25 dirt bikes, side-by-sides and four wheelers. They must have rode in from town because other than yappy dudes camper, there wasn't another vehicle in sight. 

Shooter man and yappy dude's vehicles were gone when I reached my truck and trailer. I unsaddled, Jack jumped in the trailer and we made our way back to town. 

I've been working up an arena on my property here in Halfway. It's probably the rockiest patch of dirt this side of Craters of the Moon. Every pass with the disk, harrow or rock rake pulls up more rocks. Some of them the sized of three bowling balls. I think the only real solution is to have fill dirt hauled in. In the meantime, I've picked up every rock larger than a golf ball. 

I haven't shot since winter in Arizona. I decided to set up a course on my rocky, no fence, dusty arena and give it a go. Jack was flawless, I hit every balloon and so far, the only pain and suffering is in every muscle in my body from picking up rocks for two weeks. I've embraced the fact that this arena will never be ideal ground for hauling ass and sliding stops. I don't do that anyway! It's good enough for loping around working on things other than speed. In the infamous words of my grandpa Emmet: It's good enough for who it's for." 

Yet another arena rock. More like a boulder...ugh

Trail Log: 5-17-2021

• Trail: Bear wallow - Halfway 
• Miles: 6.18
• Riders: Self
• Horses: Jack - Drifter
• Dogs: Hank

Notes: Felt good to be back in the saddle. Haven't ridden since I left for Arizona a few weeks ago. Jack is pretty fat and sassy but he did fine. Lost a shoe. Probably due to the wet pasture. Need to move them to dryer ground before their feet go to total shit. 

Hank and Drifter chased each other over the Bear wallow hills and meadows like a couple of playful puppies. I guess they felt good to be out and about too. 

The Desert Gypsy - Tasmanian Devils and Gila monsters

 

5-2-2021: It's been exactly 7 days since I swore if God got me to Aquila with that unwieldy load of arena panels without killing anyone, I'd give up Margarita's for a week. God held up his end and I held up mine. When Grandov's asked where I wanted to go for lunch, I picked Nichols West in Congress. They make one of the best margarita's in the area. So good, in fact...I can't really remember what I had for lunch. I was glad Linda was driving – tequila might not make my clothes fall off...but it sure makes me forget where I put them.

5-3-2021: Fred and Cindy made huge progress on the horse pens/shelter. It looks like it's about ready for tin. It will be nice to have some shade to work under. Although the heat doesn't seem to bother either of them. They never seem to slow down.

I think the guys I hired to "locate" the water line were relieved I'd found and dug it up myself. All they need to do now is put in a junction box, a T and 2 valves. It's something I could do myself but would rather have somebody else to blame if anything goes south. I've learned the necessity of staying one step ahead of Murphy whenever feasible.

5-4-2021: My initial plan when moving to AZ was to put in a modular home and have contractors take care off all the permitting. After checking on the cost of them...I decided to wait it out and stay off the grid. Grandov's sent me the contact information of a guy who is delivering propane to the Aguila area: Tim with Freedom Propane.

Tim came out to check out where to put the propane tank. He brought his four year old son, Charlie, along for the ride. They don't get much cuter than little Charlie. He filled me in on how his aunt lets him ride her horses. He's not sure he really likes riding horses but he thinks maybe he will when he's bigger. He's getting bigger everyday and had a fun time on his last birthday. He likes blue otter pops and thanked me politely when I handed him one out of the freezer.

After Tim and Charlie left, I wandered back to the construction zone to help where I could. I helped Fred hoist sheets of tin on the roof so Cindy didn't have to climb up and down. That girl stayed on that hot roof the entire day. It's a good thing those two are partners – he couldn't afford her otherwise.

They say if you want it to rain, wash your car. Similar thing goes with wind and roofing. If you want the wind to blow – start hucking metal over your head onto a roof. We would no more than get a few sheets up on the roof when a Tasmanian dirt devil would start building and winding it's way straight toward us. One especially large twister had Cindy sprawled over three sheets of tin while Fred grabbed for two others trying to commit suicide over the roof edge. The dirt devil – unhappy with his foiled plans of wreaking havoc on the roofers – picked a single sheet of tin off the trailer – tossed it in the air and set it down on the ground beside the flatbed without a scratch. At least that's something.

I'm thinking I did not miss my calling by not becoming a roofer. Heaving heavy sheets of metal over your head requires muscles I didn't know existed. I preferred running the tractor. I'm definitely way better at tractor operation than hucking tin. Tractoring takes less muscle and Ibuprofen at the end of the day.

5-6-2021: I decided to give Fred and Cindy a break from my self-perceived helpfulness. Fearing I'm more in the way than actually providing any real semblance of "help" – I try to limit my assistance to cleaning up scrap pipe ends, holding down things that shouldn't move, moving things that should and attaching myself to the dumb end of the tape measure. Enter: Cousin Phil.

I had messaged Cousin Phil and asked if he was still in AZ or headed North. He responded that he was in town for a few more days. Phil had moved south with his daughter and son in law. They live just up the road in Forepaugh. With most of the Snowbirds gone, I had guessed right by assuming he was bored and ready to do some exploring. I invited him to check out Vulture City;. A restored old mining town built in 1863 and touted as Arizona's richest gold mine. Current day – Vulture City can be found featured on paranormal TV shows such as: Haunted Case Files.

This was my third trip to Vulture City. The restoration has progressed nicely with each visit. I see something different each time. We didn't see any ghosts– but I did spot the biggest lizard I've seen outside of The Yucatan Peninsula: A Gila Monster. Not the most attractive creature on the planet but kind of cool looking all the same. After spotting my Gila Monster – I heard on the radio that Gila sightings...normally very rare - are occurring with more frequency as of late. Some cultures believe increased Gila sightings mean the monsoon's will be strong! I sure hope so – it's drier than a popcorn fart out there.

By the time Phil and I got back to Aguila – the mare motel was complete. It might be the most beautiful thing I've seen since Gerard Butler in 300. Well...maybe not Leonidas beautiful...but nice all the same.

After watching the structure go up each day, I knew it was well built and square to a gnats ass. That was no surprise. What made me smile was finishing touches like the horse shoe gate latches and halter hooks. My horses may not appreciate the time and skill Fred and Cindy put into that thing – but I certainly do. I know they will be safe, secure and comfortable and that means more to me than all the Spartans in Greece.

Home

 

My home is not written on a property tax bill. My home is not where I mow the lawn or park the car. My home is in the high desert – it’s in the mountains and the cool, crisp mornings on a high mountain lake. It is in the oddly shaped rock formations that resemble giant stone faces. My home is my children and my grandchildren. Home resides within my friends. It is where my critters roam. Ultimately, my home will be in heaven – until that time, I will carry them all in my heart.