I’m going to take Twitter and Instagram off my phone. There, I just did it. That didn’t hurt quite as much as I thought it would.
Soon after, though, I realize something: in a UTV, I wouldn’t be in this part of the forest behind a “No Motorized Traffic” gate. I wouldn’t have the familiar saddle soreness that reminds me of the trail into this beautiful spot.
And during the ride, whenever he crested a hill or spoke quietly to his borrowed mount, Red, Randy’s eyes shone a little more brightly. By the end of our couple-hour sojourn, you’d have thought the horse and rider were longtime buddies.
Part of our routine is to handle the horses’ feet every day leading up to the visit. If we do our job right, he cusses less than he did during the previous visit.
What if I had a horse truck, like they did in the not-so-distant past? I had seen the loading ramps at different Forest Service cabins in the mountains, where truckloads of hardy pack animals had descended from the back of two ton grain trucks and pickup beds. What if, instead of having to worry about tipping my big gooseneck rig off the side of a mountain road, I could simply squeak around the tight corners in style?