Gryph’s journal clippings: Oct. 30- Nov. 9

Posted on January 11, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Sunday October 30th, and we have been rescued by a hillbilly and a city slicker. This morning we left the sweet haven of J’s, serenaded goodmorning and goodbye by cages of colorful birds. The day was hot already as we started down Black Bart Trail, and about the first mile in on that sharp gravel road the ponies were already footsore and dragging. The road seemed endless, snaking along the mountain, dusty and rocky under the burning sun. Five miles took three hours, Bacca was not doing well and i had to get off and walk her, it took all my energy to persuade her that we had to keep going. Such a frustrating stretch, as she was obviously lame and hurting from the gravel, but we had to keep going regardless, all tired and lagging, yanking our horses down what seemed like the longest road yet…

When we finally got to the creek under Potter Valley Road, we took the ponies to drink at the edge of its questionable scumminess, reminding ourselves that we still had 10 miles to go down highway 20 before decent camping- if any…

We were all footsore and irritable with exhaustion, and Bacca was lame on her back left..

That was when the good shepherd found us. We didn’t know that guardian angels rode ATVs. A funny little man showed up, gnome-like with a grizzly beard, and offered us a rest in his 20 acre cow pasture across the road. 
[It was still a dark moon, that phase. I felt it, accepting the offer to rest, felt it walking through the rusty wire gate, while knowing that going on was not a choice either. We were all tired, Bacca was not fit to go on as she was…]


The tent is on the only flat spot amongst hills so steep that we find ourselves walking vertically, out of breath, to try and get anywhere. On a search to find the water trough, we found fenced in plots of very fragrant plants…Little did we know, this raggy shaggy little man bounces around like a pingpong ball between growing enclosures scattered all around his land. Also a strange pond covered with algae, 6 roaming cows and 1 black bull glaring with red eyes. A crescent moon cratered in the hills across the way, watching us all the while.

[watching everything change, while i die inside of stagnation and am enveloped in grief. Another valley I cannot see out of. (dont linger- i hear it, and worry)]

After we got the ponies untacked and tent set up, the first thing we did was sit down in the sun and rummage through the food bags to find something edible…not much there. D had gone off to find grub for the ponies, so we waited, tired and not knowing what step to take next. Suddenly, a figure appeared on the distant hills- we got up to meet this person, and found him to be a cute guy bringing us a skillet full of potatoes, scrambled eggs, toast and cheese! He also handed us chips and sodas- hill service. We thanked A for his graciousness and good timing, then he turned around and vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.

Thursday Nov 3rd Today I can feel winter here for the first real time. The rain this morning, cloudy silver skies, chilling wind, and the trees bursting into flames down State st. in Ukiah. So individually breathtaking, these flames licking out of deep mossy undergrowth. I went to Ukiah for a provision run with A this morning, feeling surreal in the bustle of the city world. Looks like we will be here throughout the weekend-another 3 days and hopefully no more- when will Bacca heal enough to press on-?-the question. The strangeness of the hillbilly haven, with a wandering herd of seven cows, and the bull i had to cross on the tiny ridge on the hill. He is gentle though. And, now moved into the tiny not-quite-plyboard drying shack on the hill, we wait. It doesn’t count as lingering as we have no choice.



Scared, Scared, Scared. But we have found work here, and climb the hill up to Ds house day after day. Bacca not improving, and i am starting to realize Ds persistent questioning is not just blind negativity. “What are you gonna do if she don’t get better?” I hear his worry, and the anxiety creeps in. I am still telling myself that Bacca is fine, it’s just a sore muscle, but her walk is not sound. “Shoot her” i tell him, half joking..

been here 3 1/2 days now. 4 nights. i am loosing track of what i am here. bacca suerte still not improved, limps on her left back hind, we can’t move till she’s sound. no choice now. and here we have made $1200 in 3 days. my hand looks scaley in this green lantern light. tonight is cold, winter is here and settling in my bones like a deep howling warning-
Don’t Linger-  i am aware of the constant whisper, then shouts of urgency. all time has seemed to be swept up in a vacuum, swallowed by dark hills. but we cannot leave now and it feels like a curse. with all the blessings of finding work, still cursed.



Tom Waits with the garage door open.


Awake: Friday morning the 4th and it is cold in what Sea calls Turkey roll plyboard shack-hut. The mist is bright and all consuming for the hills. I awake with a knot in my stomach -a day bringing what? i dont want to say good bye to Bacca Suerte -it’s the last thing i can think of doing-but let’s be honest and consider her state- what if she does not get better? and it is not just the pulled muscle to worry about – it’s the fact that she is losing weight even though we are feeding large amounts of grain and hay and not working, but she won’t gain. Unhealthy – too much maintenance. And then there is the rain rot, a bacterial condition where her hair will just flake away in chunks when exposed to constant rain/moisture. We’re headed into rain, not to mention she already has large patches gone on her spine where the saddle sits- i look at it and shiver- what have i done? i have been treating it with expensive medicated shampoo, but no access to water right now and there is nothing i can do. I know at this point it sounds stupid and troublesome to try and do this trip with this horse when looking from the perspective where it all comes down to composition, the physical, the thoroughbred in her. Can’t think what im going to do about it now, she is part of me, the trip, the herd, bonded.
Another dream built and shattered and i have not left myself a way out. There is no choice but to do what the trip requires, to proceed, to succeed, to hurt. No choice. Two dead ends and you still got to choose.
And there is no way to stay here much longer. No more trimming work for now, we should be moving on. It all just feels wrong, misplaced, not anything i imagined happening, and i have to change a lot about myself to accept it. Always changing always scared. Scared of winter…I am allowed to write how i feel: heavy, burdened, dark, broken and i actually feel hopeless. Feeling is overwhelming. If Bacca doesnt get better in three days (including this one), i have got to find another horse. Fast. Just carry on, do what it takes, let the bad luck and uncompromising choice make me into a cold, hard bitch- is this what i want to become? Just not seeing another way. Am i wrong?
do i hang myself from a tree? move to Paris and become a film star? Does life get easier as i step through these jagged doors?


Today is a day and now is night. Bacca Suerte must go. I can’t even saddle her what with the rain rot, hairless patches on her spine. She’ll never make it through the winter and that’s the cold truth. I have started searching for another horse and home for Bacca, where she can stay in a barn that’s dry and where there’s a lot of food throughout the winter. Scared. 
Oh How it is cold, from the stars to the earth and straight into my bones.
and they say don’t linger and i say where am i? And then, yes, i’m listening, i’m here, screaming at my failure, hanging hooks where no hooks were. trying to believe in my self and and the power of visualization, because it has been working, throughout all of this, take it with the bad but if i lose faith now i lose the trip, and maybe that’s the worst that could happen.

The rain has started, perhaps in earnest this time. It pours and trickles and slides down on us, making muddy rivulets in the hills and sinking into baccas coat like the plague. No time to think about anything except that she needs a new home at this point- i need to find her a good home, i am consumed with pain, frozen in it, and faced with the fact there is no time to curl up in the morbid harshness of bacca leaving. If i want to keep her, i forfeit the trip, and when i think of forfeiting the trip, i realize that i have not left myself any other options but to continue. there is no way for me to keep a horse right now, except if i am moving with it as part of the herd. bacca will break on this trip, her mind and hooves might be made of steel, but genetics are inevitably racked against her. Admitting this is really letting the knife in, but if i love her, what more can i do than let her go?

And the truth is, there is just no Time. This is the last string of our stay here– we need to get moving. Work is done and the lady of the house (who has never spoken to us and vice versa) scowls at us. It’s almost M & L in a parallel universe. She stakes her claim of the house and we stay in the domain of the garage with D. Things are weird, the port-a-loo is gone. i need to find bacca a new home. i need to find another horse. we don’t have internet or a car or any running water. these are the facts.

Tonight in the rain a woman from the horse rescue came to bring a blanket for bacca suerte. at least now, with every wet saturating drop, i don’t cringe at the thought of it touching her. 

It is a dark place, this not knowing. It takes everything i have to remember that i am doing what has to be done. Life needs me to think and not feel right now. To find bacca a home, admit that she is leaving, to not break under the incredible unhappy ending of it all, the things that i just don’t understand….down this road that may twist and wind, but i am in the middle of a dark desert and there is no turning back.

Remember, remember the 5th of November, the gunfire, treason, and Plot.
The 5th of november has Touchdown tonight. Is this a bad sign, that the new horse, who goes by the name Touchdown Cowgirl, has joined us on this very particular november day? She already has a pretty intense past, and has basically been condemned for the past 3 years. She was delivered to us in the rain, after we met her this morning with her wounded legs and spry young foal, weaned way too early. She ran out into the pasture, up and down the slick hills with her clunky platter feet, all but tripping over herself.  In her distress, Jesse recieved her and brought her up to see the mares. cowgirl kicked at bacca. bacca suerte seems to know what is happening and is very dark. 


Today is the 6th. This morning a pack of ponies came to our shack. i fed them on the hill. The day is clear and bright, and M is taking back bacca tomorrow- the best possible outcome in my mind- M will take care of her and ride her and see her as the smart, quick, good, beautiful horse that she is. I got on cowgirl today, Sea rode her down the road. she has proved herself a horse and a lady from this short excursion, and she just might work…the wounds on her legs are worrisome and disgusting: mentally so, when i have told myself i don’t need another horse to doctor. after bacca, after katy mae, the scar tissue is more than physical. impossible, on the road..

Its night and i sleep soon. not much else to do in our tiny shack with nothing but the tiny light i wear on my head. Its cold, clear not raining, but a chill that cuts cold stars. We will get moving from this place soon. tomorrow i ride cowgirl, order boots, trim pot. things are getting stranger and stranger, stretching in ways time and reality should not, it’s really, deeply time to go. Thoughts strange, astounded by the dark intensity, scattered in ways i cannot put together, trying to turn my thoughts into some explanation, some picture to prove the realness, the warped enchantment.

We have left hillbilly hill. We currently sit across the street at the creek, looking up the 100+ feet elevation of Papa Don’s land. The ponies are now tied to trees, standing in the dappled sunlight of golden leaved elms. We spent the morning hauling all the gear across the hills, up and down unreasonably steep sod, and now sit on large rocks waiting for S to arrive with her trailer. We chose the trailer because it is the only way to get out of here in any sort of sane and smart way – cowgirl slipped on steep cement a few days ago and got a pretty good gash on her knee – now 3 out of 4 legs sport wounds – she needs few days rest – and it’s not gonna be on hillbillyhill now that we have been here 10 days. S is being so gracious and taking us, gear and 3 ponies 50 miles down the road to Cowboy Camp- B.L.M. land close to the highway with corral and toilets- what a concept. We’ll get a couple bails of hay from S and rest cowgirl for a few days, and look for a saddle that fits her withers. Its getting cold- freezing at night but no rain yet. Sea scouted via car the route we were going to take on horseback, recommended by the forest service, got 7 miles up and hit snow – 20 miles and still no water!

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Five Points, CA

Posted on January 10, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Moonlit dinner across the street from the liquor store…

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Flash Back: Corcoran

Posted on January 9, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

As we sit here at the Tule State Elk Reserve, mountains are visible to the south for the first time in months. This is both exciting and terrifying, as it means we are nearing the end of our trek through this vast desert that serves as America’s bread basket.

The past 10 days have been both fruitful and absurd, and a million things in between. We have been delighted by random passersby, surprised and horrified by some of the places we have ended up and unhinged by new news of our fates.

11 days ago found us walking down the road (Sea was walking and Gryph riding) when a Farm Fresh Foods van passed us, then stopped. A good looking young man stepped out, and quickly proceeded to rap off a whole sales pitch about the finest steaks, restaurant quality, on sale now and would we like to buy some!  We giggled, asking him how he thought we were going to cook fine steaks. Well, it took awhile to convince him that we were not just a mother and daughter who lived on a ranch down the road out for a quick joy ride, as he had thought. When he finally believed us, he was so excited and supportive of the trip that he went back to his van and pulled out a whole box containing 7 flash frozen air sealed premium steaks. We were so happy that we probably sustained on that good energy alone for the next 6 miles, until things started to look so bleak that no one was smiling anymore…

We came to the town of Corcoran, but instead of heading into the lights and concrete of civilization, we pushed on down highway 43, even though the sun was beginning to slip and each step was screaming agony for Sea and her blisters. Soon after we made that turn, we feared that it was an irrevokable mistake. The almond orchard with its parched ground and rows of small trees was endless, with barbed wire and No Tresspassing signs. The other side of the road was not any friendlier, also bordered by barbed wire, keeping us out from factory farms with bright lights and tractors on cement. We trudged on because that was all we could do. We passed vacant lots of machines, more barbed wire, and eventually the Corcoran State Prison, which looked menacing and haunted by cold bright lights on the opposite side of 43. Can’t stop there.

It was pitch black by the time we found anything that looked like an occupied home, lit up and boardered by alfalfa fields. We treked down the winding cement driveway for about a quarter mile before we came to the house, where a family was bustling around getting into cars. Gryph approached out of the darkness on Finehorn. “Where did you come from?” asked the woman, bemused. We told her our predicament, and she explained how they were just headed out of town for the weekend…..Well they saw in our desperation that we really had no other choice, and offered their lawn and empty corrals in their absence. They even suggested that we have a campfire to stay warm, and pointed to a hefty stack of firewood that we were welcome to. How generous this couple was, and we never even exchanged names! That night we had a campfire, and cooked up the most delicious and amazing steaks we had ever tasted in our trusty skillet.

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Words of Wisdom on the Diner Wall

Posted on January 8, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

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On the Eve of Adventure

Posted on January 6, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

Tomorrow at 7am we are loading the ponies into a horse trailer and hitching a ride down into the Los Padres National Forest.  This week has been intense and we are grateful to have been granted a week’s rest with kind and wonderful people.  Jesse continues to improve and I am to the point of believing that he can carry me at least part of the way along the 10 mile trail from the Piedra Blanca Trailhead to the Hot Springs.  We are carrying food and supplies for two weeks, although we plan to be out on day 12.  The territory ahead is unknown to us – Mountains – we have made it through the Central Valley.

This has been a week of many gifts and blessings – not only the much needed rest and respite from the cold, but a horse named Daisy And a western saddle that fits Gryph and Finehorn comfortably.  We have been given maps and advice which allowed us to recover the dream of visiting two remote hot springs, meals and sodas and rides to town so that we could provision for this major undertaking, bales of hay and a bag of feed, money to help us on our way and now a ride down past the waterless bits so that we can get to the trail head with Jesse James on his regimen of shorter days and lighter weights.  Talk about the 12 days of Christmas!

Gryph has had time to catch up on blog entries and I am so grateful to have had a warm bed and a flush toilet on the night I was violently losing the contents of my stomach.  We have been encouraged and strengthened and taken in like family.

One exciting bit of news is that we now have an official Free Range Rodeo bumper sticker – designed by Gryph and each one hand made by GF Ink.  We ordered 100 the first time out and are already down to 14 – and several of those are spoken for!  We’re planning to order another batch when we get out of the wilderness – so if you want one, click on the Donate button (minimum donation $5) and let us know where you’d like us to mail it by sending Sea an e-mail at: sea-g-rhydr@juno.com.  If you want more than one we can work that out as well.  We think they’re really cool and we hope you do too!  😉

There is a saying in Arabic, Insha’Allah – which translates as “God Willing.”  In Latin it’s Deo volente (DV).  In English sometimes it’s rendered as “good Lord willin’ and the crik don’t rise.  It seems that as Americans we have come to speak of our plans as “what’s going to happen.”  As we have progessed on this Journey we are constantly reminded how much those plans are at the mercy of forces over which we have little or no control.  A lame horse, an invitation, a wind storm, a germ – and as we head into the wilderness, the possibility of the creek rising (quite literally) can throw our careful plans into sudden disarray.  That said, our current plan is that we will be incommunicado until the 20th of January – no internet or cell ‘phone service where we’re headed – but things will continue to appear on the blog as if by magic.  Ah, technology (and a wonderful sister!)  We will let the Ozena Ranger Station know our proposed route and time table.  Insha’Allah we’ll be back with fresh stories and photos and drawings and insights on or about the 21st of January – and will be able to respond to e-mails and messages then.

Happy Trails from the Free Range Rodeo – Keep us in your thoughts and prayers – We’re so glad you’re reading this blog!

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New Year – New Horse!

Posted on January 3, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

So much can change in a week!  A week ago we were feeling fairly hopeless about Jesse James’ ability to continue with us on the Journey.  We had given up on being able to visit the hot springs.  We were in a rough situation in terms of saddles which fit horses and riders in their current combinations and, in need of another horse to join our herd, we’d looked at a mare who was on the far edge of our price range and who we knew, as soon as we saw her, wasn’t going to work for us.  I spoke with my Dad on the ‘phone as we were waiting for her to arrive and he asked me, “Do you have the guts to send her back if she’s not the right horse?

“Yes.”  I replied, with more assurance than I felt.  “I have to, or I sabotage the whole trip.”  I was good to have that clear Before she showed up.  At that point in time I was feeling fairly confident that she was going to work for us, but I was concerned that $700 was more than we had any business spending on a horse.  When Lucy got out of the trailer she was thin and nervous, looked older than the advertised 12 years, not paying attention to Gryph or I (or even the other horses) – she just wanted to eat as much grass as she could graze.  Her withers were high and sharp and I didn’t feel that it was fair to ask her to carry 150# of pack, no matter what her owners said.

It was hard to say to them that she wasn’t going to work for us.  They were obviously desperate to get rid of her and badly in need of the money.  Ten minutes after they drove away with her the ‘phone rang and I was roundly cursed out.  I’ll spare you the profanity, but some of the nicer bits included: “I hope you have the very worst luck.  I hope your horse is crippled forever.  I hope he bucks you off and hurts you.”  I thanked the man for letting me know how he felt and hung up, feeling cursed and shaken.

Two days later we rode up to a house with 6 horses in the back yard.  The woman who answered the door was on oxygen and hadn’t ridden in 7 years due to a serious car accident.  Her horses were for sale, but only one looked suitable and none were within our price range.  We spent the night in an RV out back (her husband was in the house with a bad cold), the horses in a goat pen, she brought us tangerines and hot cocoa mix – and in the morning we reached an agreement about Shyan – the mare I had my eye on.  We offered 1/2 down  and the other 1/2 to be paid within a year and walked down the road.  Gryph reminded me of our “”no debt” policy, but I was feeling desperate.  Within 3 miles the mare was obviously foot sore.  We called T and asked her to come retrieve  her horse (part of the written contract if Shyan didn’t work for us).  She did, but wasn’t happy.As we were struggling to load Shyan into the trailer a woman stopped her jeep on the side of the highway and asked how she could help.  She offered to find a place for us to spend the night – and she had a mare named Lily who just might…

We spent the night in an RV in a vacant lot, our ponies tied to the outside of C’s trailer and Lily pacing inside the trailer.  It was dark by the time she arrived so we decided not to bring her out until the morning.  Good call as Mr. James got loose that night and Saint Finehorn woke me at 4:45a to let me know that I needed to go looking for him.  After 20 minutes of searching in the cold and dark I found him grazing contentedly, returned him to the trailer, and gave up on sleep for the night.

Friday morning we had our first Newspaper interview (the Taft Midway Driller) and then took Lily out to see what she looked like.  She was lovely, but at 16 years and completely untrained (she’d had a saddle on once when she was 18 months old) – and with a very long back – we decided that she was probably not going to work as a pack horse given our situation, and we sent her home.  C was gracious, and carried our luggage for a second day, as we rode to the Maricopa PO to pick up boxes of Christmas cookies and a map we needed for the next stretch.  Then she loaded us all in her trailer and brought us to the Diamond O Ranch – where we’ve been given a much needed rest – and a place to get clean and reorganized for the next stretch.  But what to do about a horse?

That afternoon we got a call from the vet.  Jesse’s blood work was back and in the range of normal.  With enough rest and careful reconditioning (and a change in diet) he should be able to continue.  Then we got a ‘phone message from a woman, who told us about a man she knew who had a horse that might work for us.  She left his ‘phone number but not her own.  We called A – he had a big Thoroughbred mare – 13 years old – and free.  Two years ago three people were crossing the country and wound up with one of his horses and he was offering her to us if we wanted her.  We were a bit skeptical, but arranged to meet him the next day and take a look.

She was Big.  And strong and solid with clean legs and a calm eye.  We waited for A to arrive.  Her name was Africa, a black bay, over 16h and not getting ridden enough.  He got on her to show me that she was fine to ride – she trotted the whole time he was on her.  I got on for a test drive, and she was Intense.  and Big!  Powerful – and trotted the whole time.  Free.  So we agreed that I’d come and ride her home the next day.  B&O agreed to follow me until I felt comfortable and show me a cross-country way back to their place so we didn’t have to ride along the highway.

The first hour of the ride home I was sitting on the limit of how much horse I can handle.  I had no idea where I was going – so grateful for my lead car so that I could keep my attention focused on the mare.  I started singing to try and calm us both down and the first song that worked was “daisy, daisy, give me your answer do – i’m half crazy, trying to ride on you… ”  B&O stuck with me the whole 3 hours home, riding through the oil fields, and by the time we arrived I was exhausted, she was calmer, and we’d renamed her Daisy.

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Holly’s Photos

Posted on January 3, 2012 by Sea G Rhydr

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The Mountains Ahead

Posted on December 28, 2011 by Sea G Rhydr

This morning we awoke in a camper-trailer in Tupman; the horses munching on alflafa in a goat pen where they spent the night. We are at the foot of the foothills of the mountains which we must cross in order to leave this vast valley.  It seems strange after a month and more of seeing only flatness to know that today we will climb a hill.  It’s officially Winter now, and yes, we do know how cold it gets at night, but the days are growing longer once again – for which we are grateful.

On Friday, after speaking with the vet about Jesse James, we packed up and headed on down the road.  I had some serious thinking (and crying) to do and walking along the side of a road can be a good place to do that.  We had gone 6 1/2 miles and the blisters on the soles of my feet were getting kind of interesting to walk on when a man greeted us from his fenced in yard.  He later told us that God had told him to talk to us and he went miles out of his way (literally!) to be helpful to us.  The horses were housed in a nice paddock and given hay, we were taken in and given food and shelter, the house smelled wonderful thanks to 4 generations of women gathered to bake cookies – and in the morning we were driven on a reconnaissance mission and found our next stopping place at the Tule Elk Reserve.  He even delivered our gear when we arrived in the afternoon so that I could ride Cowgirl instead of my blisters.  We were very glad that God had told him to come out and talk to us!

As we were in the truck, slowly driving along the dirt roads we’d take from his house to the Elk Reserve, we were talking about our need for another horse to join the herd so that we could continue the Journey.  He started to warn us about not dealing with Mexicans, as the ones that come up from Mexico are a criminal element and we’d get ripped off.  He warned us that we wouldn’t be able to find a good horse within our price range.  That he knows how horse people are and they’ll lie to us and sell us horses with problems and that it’s really hard to train a pack horse and it takes a lot of time.  This went on for about 10 minutes: a litany of fear, draining hope and confidence and motivation.  I know he was trying to be helpful, that he meant to be giving us good advice, warning us to be careful.

Finally I had to stop him.  “The way I see it, we have two choices.  We can either move forward, doing the best we can within the circumstances, or we can curl up and die.  We’ve trained two pack horses already and we’ve done OK with that.  We’ve found very good horses for our purposes within our limited price range and we’ve made it thus far safely.  We’ve been warned repeatedly about Mexicans and Liberals and People who have huge farms and ranches – and they’ve all been like you!  Kind and helpful and generous and welcoming to us – and warning us about their “neighbors” – who turn out to be kind and helpful people as well.  So either we can figure out a way to keep going, or we can quit.  And since quitting isn’t an option, we’re going to continue moving forward, doing the best we can with what we have.”

Thankfully, he got the message and we spoke of other things for the rest of the ride.  But I have been thinking a lot about fear, and how it limits us and keeps us from doing and experiencing and understanding so much.  The biggest hurdle I’ve had to cross in terms of moving from dreaming about this trip (for 30+ years!) to actually living out that dream has been fear.  However – the panic attacks that were so intense pre-trip stopped as soon as we were underway – and haven’t returned in 11 weeks!  Yes, it’s cold at night and things aren’t always easy and smooth and there’s a lot to figure out and deal with on a daily basis.  OK – life is like that sometimes – for all of us.  Money is tight and plans get turned sideways and beings that we care for deeply get sick or injured and there’s a lot of “unknown” in the world.  But living in the fear doesn’t help with any of that.

As Paul wrote to Timothy:  “God has not given us a Spirit of Fear, but of Power and of Love and of a Sound Mind.”

What a privilege it is to have a dream, and to finally be living it in reality.  Yes, it’s challenging – and sometimes it’s scary!  But, as we learned in Ireland, the antidote to Fear is Curiosity.  Understanding is Power.  Love casts out Fear.  And may our Sound Minds help us to stay safe, find the right horse to join the herd, plan adequately for the miles ahead and continue to do the very best with what we have so that we can move forward with the Journey.

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Free Range Rollercoaster

Posted on December 23, 2011 by Sea G Rhydr

Last night I sat down and started a blog entry about the ups and downs of the past week.  I hit the “save draft” button and went to take a bath.  When I got back to the computer, everything I’d written had vanished.  It’s been quite a week and I’ll do my best to write about it soon.

Tonight I’m sitting down to write with an aching heart and tears blurring my vision.  Jesse James hasn’t improved over the past two weeks and this morning a vet came out to see him.  The current diagnosis is “Metabolic Derangement leading to Rhabdomyolosis (muscle damage)”.  The bottom line is that he’s not going to be able to continue on this Journey.  It’s not a death sentence, but he needs a special low-carb diet which we can’t provide for him on the road – and he needs a month or so of rest and then gradual reconditioning.  I cannot imagine this Journey without him.

At this point we have no intention of calling off the trip, however I am honestly at a loss in terms of where to go from here.  We have a rest stop planned in Rosamond, CA – from mid-January through mid-February at Mariah Country Farms, a WWOOFing host farm that makes goat milk soaps (among other things).  That’s 4 weeks from now.  For the past two weeks I’ve been walking along the road leading Jesse and Cowgirl (who has been steadily carrying the pack) for 5 – 12 miles a day and the blisters on the soles of my feet have broken and reformed repeatedly.  For four of those days we’ve been blessed with someone willing to transport our gear in their vehicle and I’ve been able to ride Cowgirl, who has done really well – but that doesn’t help Jesse, who has been gamely keeping up, trudging along because he understands that it’s necessary.  It’s hard to see the point in that now that we know he’s not going to improve under these conditions.

Right now I feel like my first priority is to find a good situation for Jesse.  Then we need to find another horse so that I don’t wind up walking to the east coast.  Meanwhile, tomorrow we move on, because that’s what we do.  We have visions of walking up to some random house tomorrow afternoon and knocking on the door of some unsuspecting family, happily involved in their Christmas celebrations, and saying “Hello, nobody’s pregnant and we don’t have a donkey, but could we maybe sleep in your stable tonight with our three ponies?”  We’ll let you know how that goes…

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the present moment

Posted on December 16, 2011 by Sea G Rhydr

We’ve been posting a lot of journal entries and photos from the beginning of the trip – and realized that a bit of a peek into the here and now might be a good idea – and hopefully interesting.  This morning finds us sipping tea in a large round arena – perhaps 70′ in diameter – solidly built of cinder blocks below and a metal panels above – the ground is sand, which was lovely for our tent and for the ponies legs – and we really appreciated the wind and noise block it provided.  Our hosts are Mexican, with beautiful horses of their own – and although they warned us that the neighbor might play loud music for a few hours last night, we didn’t hear a thing!

The nights are cold, but our tent and sleeping bags keep us toasty when we camp, and often we have been invited into people’s homes (and fed and showered and laundered and entertained into the bargain).  Last night hot burgers and cold pepsi were delivered to our tent – and a bale of hay for the ponies.  Today we press on to Corcoran – where we hope to do a bit of a re-supply, as we’re out of porridge and horse food, and very low on denatured alcohol…

We are growing more accustomed to this strange and haunted valley – the immensity and gridness of it all.  We are moving slowly, 5-7 miles a day of late, because Jesse James has a strained muscle in his left hip and we’re not asking him to carry anything or anyone while he has time to heal.  We count it a great blessing when someone is willing to transport gear for the day, because that means Sea can ride Cowgirl and pony Jesse, rather than trudge down the side of the road, leading them both.

Gryph was given a spectacular and well-worn pair of chinks two days ago, a blessing for her chafed knees (and they look So cool!).  We made a tack change for Cowgirl, packing her on an old (1904) McClellan cavalry saddle rather than a sawbuck – so we’re back on the learning curve re: packing, but at least we have the principles down and we only had to repack once yesterday – before we’d even left the yard.  We’d toyed with the idea of gradually transferring over to all McClellans, until Gryph put it on Finehorn and sat in it.  The slot down the center of the saddle (to allow air and lack of pressure on the horses’ spine) seems to have been specifically designed for men – which makes sense as there were no women in the cavalry in 1904 – we have yet to meet a man who considers it a problem (or a woman who considers it ridable!)

It is strange to realize that so many of you are busy preparing for Christmas – and to wonder where that day will find the 5 of us.  Occasionally we pass some reminder, a huge Santa hat on a John Deere tractor – or Christmas lights decorating a house we see across the fields.  Nothing to do with us hobos – who ride along each day wondering if there will be room for us to stop for the night and throw down our bedrolls in a barn (we don’t even knock at the Inn ;-).

Now that we are finally getting the blog up and running, we find it a great encouragement when someone decides to “follow” us – and/or makes a comment (which lets us know that we’re being read!)  Blessings on you all  — as we have been incredibly blessed thus far on this journey, by the love of friends and family and the kindness of the wonderful people we have met and are meeting along the way.  Our hearts are filled with gratitude.

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