They're back!!!

"They're back!  They're back!  The food people are back!"  I'm pretty sure that's what Washoe was saying yesterday when the horses spotted us.  We had decided to hike in from a different direction, just for variety, so we ended up coming up on the horses from the top...or so it seemed.  As is turned out, I believe the horses were looking for us and (actually, they had probably gone down for water) when they turned to start back up the mountain, they saw us.  We were a good 1/2 mile away and about three hilltops above them, so I have no idea how they saw us so quickly, but when Washoe saw us, he got all excited and started charging up the mountain side.  Peanut came running along with him and then all of them came.  It was truly heart-warming.

If you enlarge this picture, you will see a red circle near the top.  This is where the horses were when they saw us.  The water is down where the snow is.
We had stopped for a picnic lunch in one of their favorite meadows, thinking they had gone somewhere for water, as we were later in the day than usual.  We took a short nap in the sun, then decided we would finish the circuit of their favorite pastures on our way down.  Imagine our surprise when we topped the highest part, looked over the edge of a crest and spotted the horses...at the bottom of a gully, and then to have them come rushing all the way to meet us.  We started down, but they got to us before we could even get off the first hill.

Brownie, the one to the left of Bill, is never this friendly.   They all seemed in good spirits and we had a great time.
Juanita

Racy Jokes

Drawing a blank, so how about some canned corn.

I played a great horse yesterday, it took seven horses to beat him!

"I bet $100 on a horse last week and he came in at twenty five to one." "Wow! You must be loaded," said Fred. "Not really," said George, "the rest of the field came in at twelve thirty."

Some race horses staying in a stable. One of them starts to boast about his track record. "In the last 15 races, I've won 8 of them!" Another horse breaks in, "Well in the last 27 races, I've won 19!!" "Oh that's good, but in the last 36 races, I've won 28!", says another, flicking his tail. At this point, they notice that a greyhound dog has been sitting there listening. "I don't mean to boast," says the greyhound, "but in my last 90 races, I've won 88 of them!" The horses are clearly amazed. "Wow!" says one, after a hushed silence. "A talking dog."

Why ride?

  Why do I ride?  Why does anybody ride?  Who do you suppose was the first moron to say "Hey! Watch this!" and jump on a thousand pound, fear driven, prey animal's back.  "Ungg, you out of you mind?!?"  Crash.  After they finished burying Ungg's bones, and saying a few words "Ungg was crazy bast@rd", most probably went on with their lives, except for the one or two that thought "Wow, that looked like a BLAST".  I am one of them.

   I ride for fun.  I don't care how I look.  I don't care how my horse looks.  I ride for my enjoyment and my horse's employment. It's fun to ride in the sun. Its fun to ride in the snow. It's fun to ride in the rain (though I admit I HATE to saddle a wet horse).  I trail ride.

  We have the great fortune to live within walking distance of the Indian Peaks Wilderness Area, Rocky Mountain National Park and Roosevelt National Forest.  We can just saddle up and RIDE!  The trails are many, and the trails are beautiful.  The rides are easy or the rides can be challenging.  They are not called the "Sandy Mountains", they are rocky.  We mostly ride at a walk.

  The livery across the street from us has needed us to take out rides for them from time to time in the past, and we could end up taking out riders of any age, experience or discipline.  On one sunny day several years ago, the manager at the livery called and said "Bill, we have an experienced rider that we need you to take out.  She owns, and teaches at, a hunter jumper school in Texas, so she can ride."  We saddled up, and off we went.  

  We went up and over a section of trail we call the "Goat Trail" in the national forest.  I was just moseying along on my horse when I heard behind me, well, an assortment of calls for help to all aspects of the Christian deity, both old and new testament.  When we got to the bottom of the trail, she leapt off her horse and ran back up the trail with her camera in hand.  There was NO WAY she was going to let go of the saddle horn long enough to take pictures, so she had to go back on foot to take the pictures.

  As a "hunter jumper" rider, she wasn't used to steep rocky trails, and told me on the ride back she doubted any of her horses could climb that trail without serious threat to life and limb, but for our guys it was just a "walk in the park".  She, on the other hand could leap obstacles at a dead run on her horses. I can guarantee that I would soil my breeches if I even approached a jump like that (and my horse would probably stop, bend back and bite me if I tried).

    If I lived in an urban area with no trails, I might be interested in jumping, or dressage, or any number of "arena disciplines", just so I could ride.  Point is, we "horse people" ride where and how we can.

   Ungg would be proud.

Bill

Joust No Darn Fun.

Bad decisions make good stories.

About a year and a half ago, our daughter, her fiance, Juanita and I went out for a ride in the national forest across the highway from us (I love that the lodge is within a couple hundred yards of twenty plus hours of trails).  Beautiful day for a ride, the horses were feeling good and so were we.

Now, for the last few years, I would occasionally grab a stick or limb while riding and carry it like a "lance".  Ranger was never amused, but would put up with it for a couple minutes.  On this particular trail ride as we were walking along the trail, I passed the best-lance-ever beside the trail.  It was about twenty feet off the trail in the middle of a small, pine-needle covered opening in the trees.  "Woo hoo!" I chortled as I jumped off my horse and ran for this long, straight, natural lance.  Great, about fifteen feet of straight stick!  I grabbed my new stick and climbed back onto Ranger.

Ranger and I have reached an understanding over the years. He understands that he can buck hard enough to send me skyward, and I understand that it hurts like crazy when the trip is over.  This arrangement works out pretty well, though I think Ranger is happier with it than I am.

I had just seated myself on my little mustang, when he took serious offense to the new situation. ***"DROP IT BILL"***    "Wait, Ranger this is a really great..."    ***"NO NO NO NO OFF OFF OFF OFF"***..  I have a very clear memory of thinking how stupid I was going to feel trying to explain to the EMT's why I had fifteen feet of stick jammed into me.  I threw the stick away about the third bounce.  Ranger continued *** "OFF OFF OFF OFF"***.  So, I did.

I had made a world class three point landing (both heels and my butt) in the pine needle covered clearing, and was still holding a rein.  At the end of this particular rein was a bug-eyed, lock-jawed, pissed off little mustang.  And, just off to my right, still on the trail were three horses, with three riders and all six had the same open mouthed expression-"Swiss cheese feces! What was that!" (It's a G rated blog, I can't say holy sh*t).

I stood up, dusted myself off, and climbed back onto my horse, without my stick.  I think I'll pass on any future jousting tournaments I might be invited to.

No pictures, thankfully.

Bill

A Rare Sighting

We were headed home yesterday, after a jaunt into Loveland.  As we rounded the corner past the quarry, Bill said, "There's the horses!"  What a great surprise.  Only about once a year, do we get to see them down close to the road, just across the river.  They don't have to come down for water with all the snow on the ground right now and some drinking areas much closer to their favorite hangouts.  We pulled over quickly and got out to "talk", but Cannon, not used to car doors, took off at a run and the others followed.  By the time I could get the truck door open and get out, they were up on the bluff.  I yelled at Jesse and Washoe anyway, and they actually turned the herd and headed back, stopping at the edge of the cliff.  After looking at us for a couple of minutes, they finally slithered on down for lots of hugs.  We managed to split two little granola bars among five horses (3 opted out of sliding down the embankment, waiting on top for the rest to come back.)  It took us a really long time to quit smiling after that!

Seek and...

Juanita and I play a game when we walk back into the mountains to find our horses. We calm ourselves, clear our minds and "listen" for the horses.  Juanita sometimes gets vague pictures of where they are, and I get a gut feeling as to the direction.  We walk back to the same point a couple miles in and start our search.  Now, I don't really buy into this "woo-woo" stuff, but I'll be darned if it doesn't seem to work more often than not.  Last trip up a couple weeks ago, my gut feeling was that they were a "good ways" west of us, and we found them about a mile and a half directly west.  Weird.  Probably just because we know the horses and the 15 square miles of mountain land they hang out on.  Probably.

   Today we went up and I tried to get a location for the horses.  I got the feeling of confidence.  Just that. As if they were saying "We are right here. OF COURSE you will find us.  Even a flat faced barn ape like you should be able to find us." (Ranger can be pretty brusque with me).  We got to our starting mountainside, and began our search.  "Juanita, I'm going to look down this valley here, 'cause they are RIGHT HERE."  Nope, they weren't.  Up another hundred yards.  "Juanita, I'm going to look down this hillside next to us 'cause they are RIGHT HERE."  They were.  They had never been on that hillside before when we were up there, and it was right above the cliff we were walking under when I felt the "confidence" feeling that we would find them. Couldn't hear or see them from where we were walking. Woo-Woo stuff.  Maybe my sense of smell is better than I think.  Not too bad for a flat-faced barn ape.

   Treats around, good rubs, snuggles and we were done.  Ranger's cut has closed and should be just a fine white line in another month or so.  Great weather, great company, great day.

Woo-Woo,
Bill

January 2010 Recipe: Spicy Sausage-Potato Soup

This is for Bill; he even had to show me how to copy into this @#$%@ program. He came up with this recipe early in our days of Innkeeping, as a way to save by eating leftovers (leftover potatoes, sausage, etc.). Now it is so popular we had to learn how to make it from the bottom up without precooking the potatoes on the grill! Cut back on the seasoning if you want less spicy - or buy less spicy sausage. You can pre-cook your potatoes by cooking, whole, in the microwave for two minutes per potato (6 min.total, turning half way through for this amount). They will only be partially cooked and easy to slice. We eat peels and all; adds texture and flavor.
Juanita

Spicy Sausage-potato soup

1 lb spicy sausage, browned
½ c. onion, thinly sliced
½ c. celery, chopped
1-2 tsp. Montreal steak seasoning
2-3 c. milk
3 lg potatoes, pre-cooked and sliced

Saute’ onion and celery with sausage. Add all ingredients to a large soup pan, bring to a slow boil, simmer 15-20 minutes.