Something Beautiful

                                                by Laura Crum

            All my life I have loved seeing the aspen turn bright gold in the high country. Sadly, I can count on one hand the times I have been there to see this in the last twenty years. I live on the California coast—no aspen here—and my husband is a farmer. Fall is his busy season. We don’t take vacations during the harvest time of year. Until this year.

            This year I lobbied for a short vacation in the high country to see the aspen—and I got my wish. And so, for those of you who won’t see the high mountain aspen trees this year, or perhaps have never seen them in autumn—here’s a virtual vacation for you.

            First off, meet the canine contingent, who traveled with us.

This is Star and Jojo. Star, the small black dog (about 15 pounds), named for the white star on her chest, is a rescue—part of a litter that was to be euthanised at the animal shelter due to demodectic mange. We adopted her as a puppy about a year and a half ago, and she’s doing great. Smartest dog I ever had. People always ask, “What is she?” Well, I don’t know. I saw her mother and siblings and they don’t look much like her, other than being small and black (all got homes, by the way). Our guess is she’s part Chihuahua, part terrier and part ?

Jojo, on the other hand, is an accident raised by my neighbors, who bred Jack Russell terriers. They went away for the weekend and the female Jack Russell got bred, they assumed by the male. But when the puppies were born it was clear that their Australian Shepherd was the father(!) Jojo was the smallest pup. She’s a very sweet dog, fourteen years old this year, about thirty pounds.

So, off we went, three people and two dogs in our camper, headed for the mountains. We stopped to have lunch on the terrace of the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite Valley, an expedition I recommend. And Yosemite is relatively uncrowded this time of year. Here’s my son and I having lunch on the terrace.

Then it was over Tioga Pass to our friend Bill Crum’s forty acre property twenty miles from anywhere, surrounded by national forest. Sagehen Meadow in the Glass Mountains. About 8500 feet high. The Glass Mountains are a small range just east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains and south of Mono Lake. We camped there this summer with our horses. See my August 1st post, “Ride the High Country,” for photos of us riding through these mountains. Here is the view of Crooked Mountain from Sagehen Meadow the last day of September, with the aspen on the mountain’s flanks turning gold.

And here is the aspen grove near Bill’s house.

Looking into the blue distance of Nevada—dusk at Sagehen Meadow.

Our camper as the full moon rises.

Sunrise at Sagehen Meadow—Sagehen Peak and Crooked are lit up with golden light and golden aspen.

It was really lovely to be there. That day we headed out to see more of the country. As we were leaving, we saw the sage grouse that give Sagehen Meadow its name. Ten of them.

These were the same roads we rode horseback in July. Here we are, headed out across Sagehen meadow on our horses.

Summer aspen along the trail.

But now the aspen looked like this, rather than green and silver.

Aspen on the flank of Crooked with the Sierras in the distance.

The eastern Sierra Nevada range—doesn’t this have a very “Sound of Music” feeling?

Fire colored aspen at the base of Shark Fin Mountain.

Sadly, the camera will not do justice to the beauty of the aspen. They are so graceful and delicate, they flicker and “talk” with every breeze, their shining gold leaves and white bark make such a lovely contrast to the brilliant blue autumn sky and the dark green pines…I took many photos but not one captures their glory.

We stopped to admire some cliffs made out of obsidian, for which the Glass Mountains are named. My husband and son and Bill climbed up to the base of the cliffs—not me—it was quite a steep climb. My son at the obsidian cliffs.

Looking down at me on the road below with the truck.

And then it was back to the camper for whisky and music—and margaritas in my case. My husband played his pipes and Bill played his guitar. The sun set over Sagehen Meadow.

It was a lovely trip. The weather was sparkling and perfect. The only way it could have been improved was if we had brought the horses. Riding through those brilliant yellow aspen would have been delightful. But it’s a very long haul (eight hours) for one day of riding. And my husband’s schedule precluded a longer trip. Anyway, I hope you were able enjoy my autumn vacation to the high country with me—if only in a small, virtual way. Cheers--Laura

Back on the Blog

by Laura Crum

I got back from my month long vacation this last weekend. Had a good time overall—but boy am I glad to be home. Traveling is always interesting, and I think it is very good for us, but it is tiring, especially the camper road trips that our family chooses. It was great to spend time with my husband’s family, and my son enjoyed snorkeling in the lakes; we all enjoyed river rafting in Colorado. We had some lovely camps in remote spots in Nevada and the California Mts. On the flip side, we had some rather intense experiences with thunderstorms, heat waves in the Midwest, and rivers in flood stage. Still, all in all, a fine trip.

Now I am back and slowly reconnecting with my home. It feels like I’ve been gone a long time. The garden is very overgrown and will take much work to get it back in shape. The horses are all doing well. My son and I rode Henry and Sunny yesterday. Just at the walk and trot in our riding ring, as we get them going again after a month off. Both horses were perfectly behaved, and Sunny was sound. Yay. I didn’t do a real soundness exam on him, but he walked out freely, trotted without a bob, and, best of all, walked relaxed and comfortably down the slope that leads from the riding ring to the barn, something he was certainly NOT able to do before I left on my trip. At that point he picked his way down that hill, and it was clearly uncomfortable for him. So he’s improved a lot, and at the moment is sound enough for the light trail riding I like to do. However, I’ll probably stick to walk/trot in the riding ring for awhile, as I figure out if he’s ready for more. Not to mention I’m not going to have time for a lot of horse activities for the next week or two. There is so much weeding and mowing to do in the garden—I hardly know where to start. I’m not going to have much horse time for awhile, any way.

Since I haven’t uploaded (or downloaded—I don’t know which way it goes) the photos of my trip yet, I thought I’d post the photos that I took with me on my travels, to remind me of my home. They were all taken in June, right before I left. So, below you see:

Roses on our porch pergola.

My favorite rambling rose, Treasure Trove.

Chickens in our barnyard.

My little trail horse, Sunny.

Our vegetable garden.

My husband, playing the pipes at our local cemetery on Memorial Day. Yes, he’s of Scottish descent and plays the bagpipes.

On another note, it looks as though the Equestrian Ink summer reading book giveaway has been a huge success. It will be my turn to participate in the giveaway this Saturday, and I have a surprise for all of you. So for those who are interested in winning a copy of one of my books, please check back this Saturday, August 6^th, when I will post my contest. I hope you all enter.

I’ll be reading blogs again soon, am interested to hear how everyone is doing. But must fit it in around reading the page proofs for my twelfth novel, which will be published this coming spring. Good wishes to everyone. Cheers--Laura

Vacation Horseback Rides

I’ve been lucky enough to ride horse on three different Hawaiian Islands, as well as in the Dominican Republic. I’ve also rode mules to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, across the Colorado River and back up again.

Although these guided trail rides are often in some fantastic country, they leave you feeling slightly guilty. Not only the cost, but also the fact that you have horses at home that need to be ridden. However, chances are you might not ever get to that part of the world again, especially to ride horses. Sometimes you have to just go for it.

But I do have a few hints if you are ever lucky enough to experience one of these rides.

#1) Go with a spirit of adventure. When you arrive at your destination, it might not always look like the glossy photo on the brochure. Be ready for anything.

#2) If you are in resort country (think tropics) no need to pack your usual riding boots in your suitcase. Usually (but see # 4) the horses on these rides are plumb gentle and know the trails, so just throw in a lightweight pair of jeans and some old tennis shoes. Often there is a bit of a hike involved.

#3) Eat a good meal before you go. Although some outfits offer more expensive dinner rides (and I’m sure they serve you lots of food on those) many are an easy 45 minute ride one way to a stopping point, a ten minute walk to a waterfall (where you can go swimming – if you’re up for riding back in a wet suit), and lunch - which might consist of just cheese, a few grapes, a couple of cookies and a bottle of water.

#4) There is usually a little box to check on the sign-in form where you state your riding level, i.e. Beginner (I know nothing about horses and in fact they terrify me), Intermediate (I’ve ridden enough to think I know what I’m doing) or Advanced (I’ve been riding since before you were born, raise and train horses for a living, nothing scares me, what have you got?) Always, Always, ALWAYS swallow your pride and mark BEGINNER. This way you will be assigned the most honest, dead broke, trustworthy horse in the whole string. Do not, absolutely DO NOT mark Advanced rider. If you do, heaven help you and I take no responsibility for what happens. Because sure enough, they’ll give you one of their – well, here’s what happened to me:

Quite a few years ago my mother and I decided to ride horses on the North side of the Big Island of Hawaii. The brochure pictured a hidden canyon with waterfalls flowing down the surrounding cliffs. It sounded like a grand adventure. Our pickup point was at a gift shop in a tiny, remote town. Then the 8-10 riders in our group climbed into a jeep where we navigated a pot-holed one-lane road that twisted and turned downhill into the jungle. After several miles of this, the jeep turned abruptly into a cleared area with a tiny shack, a corral made of two strands of sagging barb wire, and a few posts to which an assortment of horses stood saddled. Where was the ranch? The buildings? The bathroom? We gulped.

But the horses were fat and shiny and their feet in good condition. A wiry young guide in shorts and a t-shirt came out to size us up and estimate our abilities. No boxes to check or forms to fill out on this ride. Several people stated how well they did (or did not) ride and were matched with mounts. When the young man came to me, I started to mumble “yes, I can ride a little . . .”

“Oh, she’s an expert rider,” my mother gushed, as mothers tend to do. “She’s won ribbons and trophies and trained lots . . .”

I tried to catch my mom’s eye to shush her. Please, Mom, I’m thinking. No, please don’t. You’re going to jinx it.

But the damage was done. “Expert, huh?” said the young guide. He found a very gentle horse for my mother. And he brought over Amigo for me.

I sized my horse up. A big, muscular, bright sorrel quarter horse with a kind eye, he was obviously from registered stock and far nicer than any of the other horses in the string. How did I get so lucky?

I mounted up and as soon as the procession started, I knew why I had been assigned to Amigo. Before we even left the staging area, Amigo pulled his one and only trick – backing up as fast as he could go. I walloped him hard on the rear end, growled at him, and figured that once we started down the trail, that would be the end of it.

The ride took us back out onto the main road. Down, down we went, with high cliffs on one side, and a broad green valley appearing on the other. Avoiding the deep chuck-holes and the occasional jeep crossing our path, all the horses seemed gentle and willing. Amigo walked out well, except that about every few hundred feet or so, he’d have another “backing” attack.

And no matter what was behind him, he’d have a “reverse” attack more quickly than any horse I’ve ever rode, backing up into other horses, people, creeks, cliffs. Some of the riders in the group shrieked in horror at his antics, but I’d wallop Amigo again, turn him this way and that, untrack him and urge him forward, and eventually he’d start out in the right direction again, with me grumbling under my breath.

We waded through numerous streams, past loose horses turned out to eat the lush grass that grew everywhere, and farmers tending taro fields by hand. We picked fresh ripe mangos growing wild in the jungle from our saddles. And sure enough, Amigo acted up, every single time, just when I thought he was done with his shenanigans.

Obviously this was a good horse that had grown sour, and had pulled this kind of nonsense with beginning trail riders over and over and over again. Probably most reputable companies would not have kept a horse such as Amigo in their string. And probably I could have asked for another horse, but by then we were at the bottom of the canyon. Besides, I didn’t want that darned old coyote of a horse to think he was going to get away with it.

All of the other horses on the ride did fine, and we all made it back in one piece. And even though I’d spent the entire ride retraining this spoiled horse, I knew he would try that behavior with absolutely every new rider on his back. But even with Amigo’s misdeeds, it was worth every penny to be able to ride through that hidden valley, surrounded by cascading waterfalls. It was truly a spectacular and magical place.

So don’t hesitate to take one of these guided rides when you are vacationing. But just remember. No matter how good of a rider you are - never, NEVER state that you are an EXPERT rider. You might get a horse like Amigo.