Chapter 5 ~ Page 74
From the elevation we were at, the heat haze of the Mojave was visible. I was glad to have shoeing that needed doing, equipment repairs, horse doctoring, letters to write—anything to put off the inevitable test of our fortitude.
The horses knew when they had a day off, possibly because we slept in later than usual, and a lazy morning feeding time would find them stretched out in the sun to catch another forty winks. By afternoon, they would become restless, and get into mischief.
Once, at a layover after a supply stop, The Colonel raided our pantry and made off with a banana, a rare treat for us. James looked up in time to see him take a bite, crossways. Zip, the banana shot out of both ends.
At our spring camp, No-Name outdid the Colonel's bid for fame. A couple had shown up on a short day hike. Bernice greeted them with an offer of a cup of coffee, tea, or kool-aid. They declined, with the explanation that their bodies couldn't tolerate such poisons, and that they had just put a big container of yogurt in the water to cool. No sooner said, when here came our big old gray roan down the trail, licking the frothy yogurt-goo he had smeared all over his muzzle.
Yup, we still were in the 'Civilization' Mountains. The next day, passing the 500 mile mark, and coming to the end of the California Riding & Hiking trail on any map, we descended into a rift valley, that had a lake, a resort, and pretty girls in cadillacs. One stopped. A convertible driven by a bikini clad teenage double for Natalie Wood to ask me, not James, "Where you all going handsome?"
The idea that the view from outside the car made the girl look as if she was driving around in the all together, and that I was an old married, hogtied, father of three covered in rags, etc., lent itself to my razzing 'lady's man' James for a good half-hour.
He finally came up with the answer that he wouldn't have gone out on a date with her anyhow, because she obviously was blind, and therefore a dangerous driver.
Bernice, still slightly miffed over my friendly "Howdy" a few days before, waited until we topped the last ridge before the desert, and said, "Laugh now Barry, for tomorrow you will dry!"
The horses knew when they had a day off, possibly because we slept in later than usual, and a lazy morning feeding time would find them stretched out in the sun to catch another forty winks. By afternoon, they would become restless, and get into mischief.
Once, at a layover after a supply stop, The Colonel raided our pantry and made off with a banana, a rare treat for us. James looked up in time to see him take a bite, crossways. Zip, the banana shot out of both ends.
At our spring camp, No-Name outdid the Colonel's bid for fame. A couple had shown up on a short day hike. Bernice greeted them with an offer of a cup of coffee, tea, or kool-aid. They declined, with the explanation that their bodies couldn't tolerate such poisons, and that they had just put a big container of yogurt in the water to cool. No sooner said, when here came our big old gray roan down the trail, licking the frothy yogurt-goo he had smeared all over his muzzle.
Yup, we still were in the 'Civilization' Mountains. The next day, passing the 500 mile mark, and coming to the end of the California Riding & Hiking trail on any map, we descended into a rift valley, that had a lake, a resort, and pretty girls in cadillacs. One stopped. A convertible driven by a bikini clad teenage double for Natalie Wood to ask me, not James, "Where you all going handsome?"
The idea that the view from outside the car made the girl look as if she was driving around in the all together, and that I was an old married, hogtied, father of three covered in rags, etc., lent itself to my razzing 'lady's man' James for a good half-hour.
He finally came up with the answer that he wouldn't have gone out on a date with her anyhow, because she obviously was blind, and therefore a dangerous driver.
Bernice, still slightly miffed over my friendly "Howdy" a few days before, waited until we topped the last ridge before the desert, and said, "Laugh now Barry, for tomorrow you will dry!"
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia