The
weather on arrival was nice: low 80s and low humidity. We got to the ranch
about 7:30 that evening - too late for dinner, but not too late for cocktails.
After a few drinks and catching up with old friends, it was decided to head off
to the Mountain Inn in Dayton,
Wyo. It's the nearest watering
hole, about 15 miles away - 15 miles on a winding, hilly, unpaved country road.
It seemed like a good idea at the time...
The bar
was pretty crowded for a Thursday night. There was a group of bikers in one
corner, a group of cowboys in another corner, a group of local drunks at the
bar, and us tourists at the pool table. Fortunately everyone was in a good
mood, so there was no trouble, but just to be sure I ordered a round of tequilla
shots for the house. It seemed like a good idea at the time...
The next
thing I knew it was morning and I was climbing on my horse with a dry mouth, a
pounding headache, and bloodshot eyes. My wife -- who was smart enough not to
go to the bar with us -- told me my eyes looked like two tomatos in a glass of
buttermilk. I told her "You should see them from this side."
Anyway,
we all mounted up and headed out into the hills. I've been riding the same
horse here for years. He's a big sorrel -- over 16 hands high -- and a
wonderful mount; well mannered, smooth gaited, and sure footed, yet with plenty
of speed when needed. Just about the perfect
horse for this place. His name is, or rather was, Dylan. Sadly, Dylan died the month before we got here. He was
off his feed and had lost a little weight, so they thought he was just a little
wormy. Then he died overnight of what they now think was a ruptured stomach.
Up here
you spend several hours a day on your horse. In fact, you probably spend more
time with your horse than with your spouse. You get to know him; his
personality, his likes and dislikes, his quirks. Dylan was a good companion.
I'll miss him.
I won't
however, miss the horse they gave me as a replacement. He wasn't a bad horse,
but he was so rough it was like riding a paint mixer. I hung in there for three
days thinking I'd get used to it, but yesterday I felt like I'd gone 10 rounds
with Mike Tyson. I was sore all over, stiff and achy, and just flat out beat
up. So I traded that horse in for a different one, who is much smoother. I
think he may be a keeper, but it'll take a few more days to be sure.
The
weather is always a factor here, since the cabins lack heat and air
conditioning. As I mentioned, Thursday was pleasant. Friday was cool and rainy
- high of 70, low in the 40s. After spending the first two months of summer in Texas it felt wonderful
to put on a sweatshirt. The damnyankees from Boston were running around in shirtsleeves
and laughing at us, but I didn't care. Saturday was a little warmer - 80s
again. Sunday and Monday the temperature was in the 90s, but it still got down
in the 50s at night.
We've
settled into a routine. Breakfast around 8:30, then saddle up and hit the
trail. Lunch at noon, followed by a short nap. Afterwards it’s do a few chores,
have a drink or two before dinner, then more riding, followed by more drinks.
It's a tough life.
I haven't
read a paper or seen the news in five days. Today is the first time I've had
Internet access. A nuclear war could have broken out and we wouldn't know it.
It's amazing how fast you stop missing all the modern 'conveniences.' Out here
you get back to what is truly important; family and friends.
It's not
the same without you, Bots...
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