Things started slow enough, I packed the horse trailer in
fifteen minute increments as 95 degree temps drove me back to the AC when beads
of sweat threatened to roll into my eyes. We managed to leave the driveway
within minutes of “my” plan. I plan everything, my husband, Stace, doesn’t plan
anything. If I didn’t, we’d be 3 hours late to every event.
The 5 hour drive to Chugwater Wyoming was peaceful, no flat
tires, no near accidents (last year’s story). Actually, at this point in time I
don’t even remember the trip. From Chugwater, we drove another half hour west
and the people in the horse trailer ahead nicely let us pass. Thank God – they
arrived in camp 45 minutes later than us. We just can’t drive slowly – other
than to stop and ask each of the people in the other stopped rigs if they were
okay. This is an eleven-mile segment of dirt road that takes 40 minutes at our
speed. We had to stop once and let the transmission cool – which had nothing to
do with our driving speed, I’m sure. ;-)
But we made it to camp and everything was lovely, only a
slight downpour to cool things off.
We signed up for a 55 mile ride. My husband’s horse hadn’t
been ridden for a month. He was supposed to do a 100 two weeks prior, but had a
saddle wound, so didn’t go. He’d saved every bit of energy we’d so carefully
cultivated. All for the start of this ride. A 20 mile loop with millions of
rocks and hills. My horse doesn’t do hills or rocks at speed. Such a prima
donna. So we carefully picked our way through the rocks while my husband’s
horse did a parade canter – ie lots of vertical motion for very little forward
motion. Pretty. Not. We have the pics to prove it.
Still, a lovely ride. We stopped to let the horses drink at
a tank as we headed back to camp for a vet check. Even got off to let them eat
for a while. As I re-mounted, two yahoos (technical word for dimwits that race
their horses for 17 miles and don’t even stop to offer water) galloped down a
hill, spooking my horse. As my leg swung over his back, he shot forward and I
landed on his rump and then the ground. Luckily the ride photographer was able
to catch my horse before he decided to prove he could jump a cattle guard.
No worries, I bounce pretty well. Off for our second loop of
17 miles. My horse suddenly overcame his aversion to hills and decided to race
up every one. Would have been great if his body agreed with his brain that that
was a good decision. By the third loop, he got it all together and decided to
listen to my ideas: nice steady speed, try not to trip over the rocks.
We were doing a nice trot about a half mile from the finish
line though a mowed green meadow. There isn’t much green grass in Wyoming this
year, but this little bit did a great job of disguising a very green
rattlesnake. Prima donna that he is, my horse wasn’t about to mar his good
looks with a swollen nose, so he executed his famous exit-stage-left. Luckily
our momentum carried my flight path past the very annoyed snake. I landed first
on a knee and then plopped onto my face. I did not stay in that position long –
mid flight I’d caught a good earful of rattles.
Eleven rattles. See, we know this because my husband decided
to, while holding onto his horse, stone the 3’ long sucker to death. Sort of
death. His head was partially disconnected, but the body writhed and wiggled
the rattles on its own. Prima donna still not impressed. But we walked into
camp with that snake hoping someone would barbecue him for us.
That was it for the calm part of the weekend.
Part of the reason we did this ride was because it was
half-way to Gillette Wyoming. What’s in Gillette, you ask? We’d found a horse
for sale in Gillette. He was big enough for my husband, although untrained, and
the best part is that his is a grandson to a stallion that we’d lost to colic a
couple years ago. So the plan was to do the ride and then go look at the
horse and hopefully buy him.
As we got back into cell phone range, there were 9 messages
on the phone. Some miscellaneous, then one from my mom about the wonderful
rainstorm. Then another from my more panicked mom telling us about the
lightning strike and the fire across the valley. Then another from a much more
subdued mother at 2:45 am saying she’d gotten the 3 left behind horses
evacuated but was going to stay at the house and wait to escape with the dog,
cats and important paperwork. Then the call from our hay hauler saying he was
on his way to our place.
After several intense conversations, nothing could be gained
by us heading straight home, so we turned north to Gillette, bought the horse
and loaded him up. Then another phone call from the panicked version of mom –
yet another fire, this time on the hill behind the house. We’d started
arrangements to bring the evac’d horses home but put an end to that plan.
Instead, we’d drive the horses with us straight to the evac barn and spend
another night in our LQ horse trailer. No hardship there, it’s comfy and we
still had plenty of junkfood.
We drove through three incredible downpours, one that later
closed I-25, wishing we could bring even some sprinkles back with us as
Saturday’s weather skirted our valley. Sunday morning, 26 firefighters climbed
back up a steep rocky hill to finish putting the second fire out so they’d all
be free to focus on the expected new lightning strikes as Sunday storms start
rolling in.
I am left with a bruised, scraped elbow, a wrenched neck,
scrapes on my nose and cheek, a blue goose-egg sized lump on a knee, a new
horse and happy, healthy, unburned family members and a story that is just a
little more exciting than the usual. Life is good!
But just a reminder (as if we need it) to those of us living
in the parched west, keep an eye out those windows during lightning storms, it
can happen at any time. And thank you to everyone involved in any way with
protecting our homes, family and animals from fire!
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