Apologia

Posted on May 3, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

“speaking in defense”
The word Apologia came to my mind this morning – probably because it sounds like “apology” – which is what I feel I owe to the ponies right now.  So I looked it up (on wikipedia, because OEDictionary has been supplanted by laptop – which weighs less!) and the word today has largely religious connotations, which topic we’ll get into in a later post.  Originally the word comes from the Classical Greek legal system; it was the defendent’s speech rebutting the charges – and hardly an apology!  The inside of my brain is a highly “judgenmental” place and I find myself frequently having conversations with imaginary critics – defending myself, my actions and choices – practicing for when these critics come at me in person.  The amazing thing to me is how Infrequently they do!

“You live and learn or you don’t live long” remarked Robert Heinlein’s character, Lazarus Long (who lived longer than Methuselah!)   This Journey has been a test, not only of what I know, but of whether I can learn quickly enough to keep the Rodeo on the Road.  I spend a lot of time analyzing (obsessing?) over what’s going right, what’s going wrong and Why.  I go back to the moment I pulled the ponies out of the trailer in Cutter at the Casino and Rodeo Grounds, knowing that none of us was in the best of shape.  I’d had a busy 36 hours with little sleep and much catching up to do, the ponies had just been vaccinated and Jesse had a few bald spots that seemed related to hot weather and rapid shedding gone awry.  I’d been up late trying to get everything done and up early for the pre-rush hour trailer ride from South Phoenix to Globe and I was anticipating being able to camp at the rodeo grounds and grab another day of rest before heading across Apache Country.  I had extra food along for me and 30 pounds of feed for the ponies and in all honesty hadn’t packed as precisely as I know is necessary because I thought I’d have an extra day to sort all that.  Wrong.

The Apache man driving the John Deere who greeted me as I unloaded the ponies was helpful and friendly, showing me where to put the ponies and mentioning that there was some hay left over from the rodeo that I was welcome to feed them.  Then his boss called on his cell ‘phone (watching from where!?) and suddenly I wasn’t allowed to camp because of “security issues” – but I could rent the pens for $10 per horse and get a room in the casino hotel for myself.  M (from the tractor) muttered something about “a man can’t even make his own decisions” and then took a look at my maps to help me figure out where I Could camp with the ponies for the night.  14 miles to San Carlos where I could camp along the Gila River past the old softball field – plenty of graze.  I loaded up on auto-pilot.

We were scarcely out the gate of the Casino property when Finehorn scooted up next to Jesse with a peculiar look on her face.  I thought she was just saying “hi” – and then the pack started to roll.  We stopped and I struggled to get the gear and saddle and ropes disentangled and separated from patient Finehorn – then did my best to rebalance the packs (on the 8’ of sloping grass shoulder beside the highway) retighten the cinch and repack the pony.  Not a grand beginning.  We made it to the river camp and I untacked both horses and tethered them to graze.  There was plenty of grass, but it was spread out along the river bank – the ponies ate everything they could reach in less than half an hour, requiring frequent relocation of the tethers.  This was a one night camp.

In the morning as I was packing a man arrived with his dog.  He’d never been off the Rez and was obviously out of his comfort zone dealing with me, but his sister had seen me riding by and told him to come talk to me.  He looked at my maps, listened to where I wanted to go, thought about the water situation (there was none on the main road for two days ride) and gave me directions to get to the gasline road that led to the Gila River and points West.  I thanked him and followed his directions to Peridot (they pronounce the t) where a group of men working on the ballfield filled up my water bottles, gave me two extra gatorade bottles full of water, confirmed the directions and warned me not to drink from the Gila as it was full of chemical runoff from farms and ranches upriver.  Onward.

I took the gasline road, despite being warned by a white man in a gasline truck (he looked like he never got out of it!) that my maps were wrong and the road stopped just over the next ridge (he was wrong).  When I got to the place where the gasline road crossed the RR tracks there was a group of men working on the railroad.  They were just finishing up for the day and they warned me about rattlesnakes (they’d killed 18 already this season) as they hooked their pick-up trucks onto RR wheel trollies so that they could drive their trucks home on the tracks.  Cool.  One man stayed behind to chat; it turns out that he and Jesse share a last name, and he warned me that I couldn’t get across the Gila on the gasline road, that the roads beyond were overgrown with thickets, but I would be able to take the RR tracks for a little ways and then I’d see the road again off to my left.  Blessings on LJ for this information!

I rode along, chatting on the cell ‘phone when I was on the ridges, confident that I knew where I was on my map, keeping an ear out for rattlesnakes and reassuring the ponies that the range cows weren’t going to eat them.  The road went down, the thickets thickened and suddenly, there was the Gila River – 70’ straight down!  I could look across the river and see the yellow gas line marker on the far bank which similarly resembled a cliff.  Dusk.  Close to 20 miles from where we’d started that morning.  There was No Way down to the river – not even for me to go down and bring up water for the ponies.  They looked at me.  They looked at each other.  We all knew the score.  Luckily there had been a seep back a mile or so – barely more than a mud puddle but at least it was potable for ponies – we went back and I made camp as night fell.

The next morning it was obvious to me that Finehorn was in trouble.  Her withers were swollen and tender and I did my best to pad and pack her to keep the weight off of them, but there was no possibility of staying where we were.  She stood like a trooper while I loaded her up, audibly grinding her teeth but not moving a hoof despite not being tied.  Jesse’s bald spots were growing, though he stepped out like he felt great and I had to remind him repeatedly to slow down for Finehorn.  The only way out of the mess was a 5 mile ride along the RR tracks – often ON the tracks themselves.  I had convinced myself that the tracks weren’t in good enough condition to be in use – though the silver (rather than rust) of the rails told me otherwise.  The footing was awful – lava and thorns – and it was Hot.  I had no water.

We eventually found a road and were able to get off the tracks and late in the day found a camp spot along the Gila river, not too far off of the highway and not too far from Bylas.  I unpacked and tethered the ponies, left my gear in a pile and hitched a ride into town for water.  We stayed there 4 days so that Finehorn could recover – until it felt to me that too many people knew that we were there and I started feeling uncomfortable about leaving everything unattended while I went to town for water.  We rode a day, took a day and a half off with an Apache Pentacostal preacher and his wife, rode another half day to arrive at the ranch where we’ve been staying for almost 4 weeks now – dealing with the consequences of my bad packing decisions and the unforgiving terrain across which we’ve been traveling.

And now it’s time to go bring the ponies in from pasture and tend to their wounds and reassure them that we won’t be here forever.  Even as they reassure me that they still love me and they know that I do learn from my mistakes and thus we’ll carry on.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Only the Good Stuff

Posted on April 26, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

There is a strong temptation when I sit down to write a blog entry to focus entirely on the positive.  To write about the wonderful people and beautiful landscapes and frequent blessings and encouragements – the insights and learning opportunities and the occasional amusing mishap.  Even today I want to write about making tempeh – and how after failing miserably to keep the temperatures even close to the necessary 88*F (it fell to 70*F the first night – the second night I’d given up and it fell to 60*F!) – within 48 hours the culture had done its job and yesterday I ate (and shared) the delicious result of my first attempt!  Yeah me!  Yummy tempeh!

I have been here for three weeks now.  I limped in with two sore-backed ponies and was taken in with incredible hospitality and grace – and I’m still here.  It’s hard to write because I’m feeling guilty and ashamed about the condition of my horses.  It’s hard to write because, while I know this is all a part of “The Journey”, I feel like I’ve fallen off the trail somehow and I’m not going anywhere for awhile, and what does that mean and what do I do now?  It’s hard to write because I am afraid of opening myself up to criticism – or engendering a host of well-meaning (but ultimately useless) bits of advice that I’ll need to be polite about while inside I’m screaming with frustration and angst.  It’s hard to be honest with myself about this situation, much less open the window and invite an audience.  I’m scared and feeling stuck and helpless and stupid.

So – since that wasn’t getting me anywhere – I realized I needed a slightly different perspective, which might lead me to a different approach, which might even yield a more positive result.  I realized that I wasn’t being fair.  To you, the readers of this blog, who are following my Journey and presumably honestly interested/involved in what’s really going on.  To myself, depriving myself of community, consolation and quite possibly great advice, options and insight.  And to the Journey – because this IS all part of the process and who am I to judge it as “bad” and “roadblock” and “trap” and “negative”?  A week or so ago I got a call from J, who has been a great help and encouragement (and sympathetic, non-judgemental ear) over the past several months – a horsewoman and friend whom I’ve never met in person, she wanted to know what’s really going on.  It was good for me to spill it all out there, and  a huge relief when her response wasn’t harsh judgement, but better saddle pads for the ponies coming in the mail!

“I ride an old paint, I lead an old dan…
their tails are all matted, their backs are all raw.”

I am living on a ranch that is 6 miles of dirt road from the nearest town (20 minutes by car) -> Fort Thomas consists of a PO, a small store/laundromat/cafe that closes when the PO closes, a bar and a few houses.  The nearest “real” town (grocery store) is close to an hour away by car – I ride in with somebody about once a week to resupply.  Money is running low and there’s no obvious place to “get a job”.  It’s getting hot already, over 100*F over the weekend, and this is just the beginning.  I “need” to get out of the desert before summer hits in earnest – and I need to get over the continental divide ideally during July or August.  There is a very real sense that if I don’t get moving again by when?, the first of June?, I might be stuck this side of the divide for another year!  Hard to get my head around that and what it might mean – for the ponies, the Journey, the blog, Me!?!

The ponies are out in an 120 acre pasture with 3 mares and a molly mule – there’s just enough graze, they’re shedding out and looking good, apart from their withers/shoulders.  Finehorn came in yesterday with dried blood dripping down her left shoulder – I’m hoping that was a good sign.  The swelling is down, as is the over-all tenderness.  Jesse has a recurring skin thing going on, like cradle cap or rain-rot (maybe dry rot?) which causes his hair to clump up and fall out.  Ugh!  I’ve switched medicines/treatments a few times – currently I’m using Nu-stock  (sulphur, pine oil and mineral oil) because that seems to be what’s helping Jesse the most – and doing hot compresses on Finehorn’s withers (castor oil, epsom salts, garlic) – which was what finally brought the swelling down.

Part of my frustration with myself is the sense that I made the same mistake twice – and the ponies have paid for it both times.  30# of horse feed, divided into two dry bags and added to the load – first it was Jesse and the strained hip muscle, now it’s Finehorn’s withers.  Mea Culpa.  Part of my fear has to do with getting “stuck” – every day the weather window tightens, the resources dwindle – the ponies aren’t ready to ramble – and thinking too much along those lines hi-jacks my brain into some pretty bleak places.  It’s somehow easier for me to have faith in the Journey when we’re riding down the trail.  It’s easier to invite people to be part of my grand adventure than it is to admit that things are really hard right now.  It’s easier to write about the blessings that never cease – which Is a very real level of what’s Always going on – than to open the door for others to bear witness to my lack of perfect judgement, my insecurities and doubt.

But there it is.  For those of you who are praying for us as we Journey, perhaps this will help you know how to pray for us during these difficult days – healing for the ponies, wisdom and grace for us all.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Bucket List of Destiny

Posted on April 21, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr


Yesterday I ate bear for the first time.  It was good – dense and chewy and flavorful, marinated and grilled medium rare.  I was served back strap from a 300# sow who had been eating mostly grass – all of these things being integral to the flavor and texture.  I’d been warned that bear was greasy and nasty and tough, that it would expand in my mouth the more I chewed it; that I’d hate it.  Nope – it was delicious!

So here’s the funny thing ->  I’ve been thinking a bunch about “Bucket Lists” lately – the list of things we want to do in this lifetime.  This cross-country horse Journey, in one form or another, has always been at the top of my own personal bucket list – sort of in the category of “the impossible dream”.  And here I am doing it.  Cool.  When I was 18 I made a bucket list with over 100 items listed.  When I was 34 and going through a pretty dark time, living at home and going through boxes of saved junk, I found that list – and made myself pick something to drag me out of my funk.  I wound up hiking 750 miles of the Appalachian Trail the next summer – not a bad first attempt at an extended hike!

That long ago list has disappeared – but a few days ago I started thinking it might be fun to dream up a new bucket list – maybe even post it on the blog – no reason I can’t double up on my dreams!  The two things that (randomly!) popped into my head were:  ride in a hot air balloon and eat bear meat.  Two days later H and I went down to town to try and meet B, who reputedly knew where we might be able to find some fire agates.  Turns out that not only did he know about the fire agates, he’d shot a bear on Sunday, cooked some up for dinner that night, and would I like a taste?  Ask and ye shall receive!

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, the ponies are enjoying their “vacation” and healing slowly but surely, I am in the process of learning to make tempeh (another bucket list item) today and the free range rodeo blog just celebrated 10,000 hits!  And going through my photos, I found pictures of another one of my bucket list items – I’ve always wanted to see the Ocotillo cactus in bloom.  I’ve also heard them called century plants (which is an exaggerated reference to how seldom they flower) and I’ve missed them by a week or a rainstorm several times – and we rode through them for weeks this trip!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Your Next Adventure?

Posted on April 13, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Once upon a time I moved to Vieques, Puerto Rico.  I found work, saved some money, got a bit of land and built a casita (a little house) with help from friends and family.  Now I’m riding across the country with the horses and Vieques seems long ago and far away – Except for the responsibility of keeping the casita occupied.  My current caretaker just found another gig and I don’t have anyone scheduled to be in residence from now until late December!  Help!  If you (or someone you know) wants to spend some time living “old school” in the Caribbean – here’s your chance.

Interested?  Read on.  The casita isn’t everybody’s idea of a dream vacation – but if you’re comfortable camping it’s pretty sweet.  The basic deal is simple -> a free place to stay in exchange for being a “security presence” and doing Something while you’re there to make things nicer for the next person.  The casita is 16’x20′ – there’s a ladder leading upstairs to the bedroom – Q bed (with mosquito net) hangs from the ceiling.  The casita is off-grid – no electricity.  There’s a propane stove/oven – please make sure there’s propane for the next person when you leave.  1000 gallons of rain water are stored in cisterns – a hand pump brings it up to two 55 gallon drums (one outside painted black for warm water) – from there it’s gravity feed to the sink and shower.  Grey water is caught in 5 gallon buckets to flush the toilet and water the plants.  Living at the casita is Physical.  The nearest store is 1/2 mile Down Hill.  If you want to keep food cold you’ll need to bring ice for the ice chest back Up Hill 1/2 mile.  The view is amazing – over rolling hills to the ocean – and the island of Culebra in the distance.  Downstairs is an 8’x16′ deck – upstairs is a balcony that’s 8’x5′.  The downstairs windows and doors can be locked – the upstairs is open to the view.  When it rains and blows you’ll stay drier if you move the bed downstairs.

The casita comes equipt with sheets and towels and hammocks, pots and pans and dishes.  There were two bicycles when I left, but there’s no telling what condition they’re in by now.  Transportation is an issue – it’s entirely possible to walk and hitch rides – if you’re a walker.  There are “publicos” (taxi vans) which will take you anywhere – when you can find one!  I had a scooter for awhile, which worked really well as island transportation.  The “best” (most secluded) beaches are down the Navy Road – which is a long walk by most people’s standards.  That said, the entire island is 21 miles long and 7 miles wide and the casita is situated sort of “north central” on the island.  When my folks go down for a week or two they rent a 4WD.  When it rains you’re going to be walking in the last quarter mile or so – because even a 4WD can’t handle the slippery red clay/mud that the road becomes.

Vieques is a bit “wild west” – not long on infrastructure – and petty theft can be an issue.  Don’t bring/flash valuables!  If you’re looking for casinos and shopping – this isn’t the island for you.  On the other hand – the snorkeling is great, the many beaches are lovely (and in the off season it’s entirely possible to have a beach to yourself!) – summer is Mango season, and there are also papayas, limones, carambolas, avocados, bananas, plantains, guavas, coconuts, passion fruit, nonis, anons, guabanas, cashews and more – you won’t starve!  There’s a fish market down by the ferry dock – or take a spear gun and a mesh bag when you go snorkeling.

I’m happy to answer questions about the casita and/or Vieques if you’re interested in staying at the casita for a spell.  It’s available Now – and through the end of 2012.  At this point I have a couple from the UK planning to be in residence January through April of 2013.  If that changes I’ll post something here – meanwhile I’m hoping to keep the place occupied between now and then with some miraculous patchwork of caretakers!  If you are interested please e-mail me at: sea-g-rhydr@juno.com

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Same Language – Different Culture

Posted on April 12, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Tuesday I rode a mule for the first time.  Her name is Charlene and she’s tall, like Daisy, and calm and friendly and quite definitely Not “a horse with long ears”.   We’d gone out looking for a missing calf – dead or alive.  The cow had come back to the barn – calfless and bawling.  There is a mountain lion known to be hunting in the area, there was a bear seen recently down along the river at the edge of the ranch – and while on the reservation I’d heard that a pair of wolves had come down from the mountains (where they’d been released by the government) and were working the Gila river – two calves and a calving cow had already been killed.  After over an hour of searching, for a calf, a carcass or some tracks that might yield a clue, I returned to the barn.  Jesse James gave me a Look.  I was able to assure him that I had no intention of trading him in on a mule.  The “language” was the same (seat, legs, hands and voice gave the same commands) but there was a very real difference – Charlene moved differently than a horse,  had different reactions to things, thought differently.  Different culture.  I’ve got a lot to learn about mules before I even think about adding one to the herd.

I’d run into this concept a few years ago when I had the opportunity to spend the better part of a year in Ireland.  Theoretically we all spoke English – but the communication glitches went far beyond accents and idioms – there were basic cultural assumptions that were following a very different pattern and thought process.  For instance – they think that the U.S. is barbaric not to provide universal health care, their artists (and writers) live tax free, and a cup of tea is offered almost before “hello”.  Not to mention the permeability between what I considered “ordinary reality” and other realms or dimensions that people there seemed to take for granted.  Gryph was taking pictures of a small waterfall and when we looked at the images later she’d captured a wee pixie standing on a rock – it was obvious what it was, and nobody even thought it odd.

Last week, crossing the San Carlos Apache Reservation, I had a similar experience.  The ponies were badly in need of a rest and on Friday evening we camped down along the Gila River.  Saturday afternoon I heard a vehicle pull up and a door open and close.  As I finished strapping on my Chacos an Apache man appeared at the top of the wash, looking down towards my tent.  I stood up and walked towards him and he said “I was just wondering who was down here.  Are those your horses?”  I said that they were and explained my situation.  He said that they had come to go fishing, “but there are other places to go fishing.”  As he turned back to his jeep, where his wife and kids were waiting, I asked him if it was ok that I was there.   “I wasn’t sure how to ask for permission.  Who owns this land?”  He looked at me as if I had grown an extra head.  “It’s tribal land.  Nobody owns it.  You’re fine here.”   And I was.

When I was plotting out my route, plenty of people warned me about the Reservation.  “You don’t want to go through the Rez”  was the basic assumption, for whatever reason.  There were warnings about permits and about “those Crazy Apache.”  But the most logical route from where I was to where I wanted to go led through the Rez – and so I went.  And people were friendly, and helpful, and interested and encouraging (like everywhere else I’ve passed through on this Journey).  The Apache warned me about rattlesnakes.  (The one I encountered let me know that I shouldn’t ride too close – and the ponies and I passed safely on the other edge of the narrow dirt road.)  The Apache also warned me about their neighbors to the East – the Mormons.  “The Mormons aren’t friendly.  They don’t like transcients.  They’ll run you off and won’t let you camp – and they own all the land you’ll be traveling through.”

On Good Friday I left the reservation – and the Mormons I met took me in with amazing hospitality and warmth.  Seeing that the ponies were in need of a real break, they offered me a place to stay and rest for as long as was necessary.  And here I am, encountering yet another culture with which I share a common language.  One of the things that I’ve been thinking about over the past year is how America traditionally places a high value on being “self-sufficient” – which used to mean having the skills, ingenuity and work ethic to feed, clothe and shelter one’s self and family.  It seems that the current version of “self-sufficiency” has more to do with being able to afford to shop at Walmart (or at least having a credit card with which to procure the necessities of life.)  The people I am staying with are serious about old school self-sufficiency.  They have chickens for eggs and cows for milk and cheese and butter.  They can and freeze food and put up hay for their livestock.  It’s a lot of work!  They aren’t Luddites – they use tractors and drive to town, but they think seriously about life without the luxury of readily available fuel (hence the mules).

Speaking of Luddites – please excuse the lack of photographs in this blog entry.  I’m not the camera whiz and I have yet to figure out how to wipe a memory card clean so that I can re-use it.  I’m working on it – meanwhile I’ll post this as is – and get on with other tasks.  Oh – and the calf that Charlene and I were looking for returned!  It seems that its mother hid it somewhere while she came back for a drink of water – obviously she did a good job!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Half a Rodeo…

Posted on April 5, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

I must admit that I was feeling less than fully confident as I rode out of Tonopah with Jesse James and Finehorn – but without Gryph and Daisy and Cowgirl.  Even my spectacular new hat didn’t quite make up for feeling like we were moving on as half a herd.  How would people respond to me, traveling “solo”?  What had Gryph been saying to people when she knocked on their doors and secured us a place to stop for the night?  How was I going to get supplies without leaving the ponies alone?  So much of the trip has been based on teamwork – and we’d learned a lot about how to make things work for the 6 of us in terms of daily routines and protocols over the 5+ months on the trail.

My first night out I got told “no” 3 times before I finally found a place to stay.  That had never happened before!  But the place that said “yes” was a really good stop – 3 generations of Mexican men at Silverado Ranch took me in and treated me like family – feeding me pork from a pig they’d raised themselves and sharing stories into the night.  The ponies shared a pen and alfalfa with some goats, I enjoyed a sheltered camp spot and coffee and breakfast in the morning.  There was joy in my heart as I rode down the lovely Hassayampa Wash.

The next day I had reason to be grateful that my siblings are on Facebook!  I had gotten a pretty intense sunburn on my south arm and was in need of a light weight long sleeve shirt so I called my long-armed brother (who used to live in Phoenix) and a man that he knew from Food for the Hungry (in Bolivia) offered to drive down with his daughter and bring me a shirt and some sunscreen.  AND an unschooling family that my sister “knows” on-line were coming with a bale of hay and a picnic.  I rode past a very fancy equestrian center and rodeo grounds in search of the Gila River – which I could see on the map, and planned to follow through the next stage of my journey.  As I rode around some graffiti’d barricades a man in a white pick-up truck passed me.  I waved, trying to signal him to stop.  He half-waved back and kept driving.  I came around a bend in the road as he pulled up next to another big truck.  A large hispanic man emerged from the other truck.  The man who had passed me turned out to be a small asian man.  They were both wearing bullet-proof vests and had multiple guns and seemed to have plenty of ammo.  I tried to act normal and asked if they knew the area.  “No.”  “Do you know how far it is to the river from here?”  “It’s a long way – you should turn back.”  They didn’t have to tell me twice – this was obviously no place for a family picnic!  I rode back to the equestrian center and asked an equestrienne if she knew of a place I could camp with the ponies for the night.  She directed me to a near-by lake (which wasn’t on the map!) and I followed her directions – and then called my visitors to let them know where to find me.

That evening was really fun!  8 people had driven over an hour to be helpful – the spot on the lake was perfect – the ponies were charming scroungers – it was exciting to have “company” and the picnic was long on fruit (which I had been craving.)  I think everybody wished they were camping with me that night – and in the morning the sunrise was so beautiful that I stayed up to watch it rather than go back to sleep after a late night.

The next day was challenging – I got lost – twice!  Once by following an ATV trail for miles up an eerie and beautiful wash – only to have it turn around a clump of trees and stop – by a pile of spent shotgun shells.  I returned to the last known water, asked some kids who were fishing to help me with the map, and wound up riding through a posh AZ housing development – fancy houses cheek-by-jowl – each with their own little swimming pool nestled within the high-fenced oasis of the back yard.  People driving home from work stuck smartphones out of SUV windows to take my picture as they drove past without so much as a wave – I felt like a zoo exhibit.  Then I discovered that the road I was following turned into dirt and disappeared into a mountain.  At my absolute wits end I was rescued by a couple on bicycles – who were patient and kind and didn’t run away screaming when I dealt with an overly aggressive photographer by charging him with the ponies when he wouldn’t stop taking photos after I’d asked him to desist 3 times.  Instead they went out of their way to find a place to put the ponies for the night (bringing alfalfa from a different farm) – and then they invited me home to meet their kids, shower, eat nourishing and delicious food, wash laundry and get a good night’s sleep.  And they gave me a tent to replace my beloved ancient pyramid, which was rapidly giving up the ghost – which has served me admirably through the Rez (despite a few issues with elastic and glue from having spent 3 summers in an AZ garage -> nothing a little duct tape couldn’t handle.)

The next day brought an invitation from a couple driving by with a truck and trailer, who gave me directions to their house and offered not only a day of rest for the three of us, but helped me get the vaccines that the ponies needed before the end of the month, and convinced me that the safest, sanest choice was to load the ponies into their trailer for a ride up to Globe (and after seeing the road I was really glad I’d heeded their wisdom!)  Meanwhile my mom had sent a care package to a cousin I hadn’t seen in 10 years, and she came down with her 3 kids to deliver it – we went to Dairy Queen for ice cream while we caught up a bit – and the ponies were in a safe place to allow that to happen – hurrah!

One other wonderful surprise that transpired that week – which I only found out about in retrospect – was that my friends down in Manhattan Beach threw a Free Range Rodeo party – sponsored by Rookie Brewing – and raised enough money that I was able to order an MSR Mutha Hubba tent – which fits all my requirements, and will hopefully last the rest of the Journey.  I’m hoping to find it at the PO tomorrow morning!

So – that was the first week sans Gryph.  I found myself missing her most when things got strange – or beautiful – not having someone there to share the numina (things that can be perceived with the mind, though not with the senses).  I am aware that Finehorn considers me a poor substitute – but she’s adapting and Jesse is paying more attention to her as well.  I am learning that I can do this Journey solo – and that even without Gryph this ride is what I most want to be doing with my life.  Blessings on the Journey – Blessings on us all!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Living your Purpose

Posted on March 31, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Jennifer McGrail blogged about her visit with Sea last weekend in a blog titled “Living Your Purpose” (click on the title to read that blog post,) She included a couple of great pictures of her kids, Sea and the ponies.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

San Carlos Nation

Posted on March 29, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Sea is riding through the San Carlos Apache Indian Reservation, also known as the San Carlos Nation. Sea has been having a great time w/ the Apache she has been meeting along the way.

Sea spent last night by the river in the town of San Carlos. Right now she’s headed down to find another camping spot by the river. If she finds a nice spot she’ll be spending an extra night to give the ponies a much needed day of rest.

Sea is without computer access and has limited phone connection during this leg of the trip. Whenever she has the chance, as close to daily as possible, Sea updates her Daily Update/Contact Information page. If she can’t get online she phones in an update to a helpful friend or family member.  Click the tab above this post, just below her header to read the latest, including her use of pony power in dealing w/ a disrespectful photographer.

Be sure to check her Daily Update often because the updates aren’t saved, once they are gone you’ve missed your chance to find out the inside scoop of the trip.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Heading Out from El Dorado Hot Springs

Posted on March 25, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Photo Credit: Cheryl

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Lakeside Dinner Delivery

Posted on March 25, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Photo Credit: Mike

Thank you to the McGrail family for bringing a picnic to share w/ Sea and the ponies!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment