The Pony Express (or Trotting on out)

We were all up at 0600. Packed it all up, and were at the ranger station by 0700 to get our stuff packed out, and me on a horse. And we waited ... and waited. At about 0730 a string of horses arrived that had an extra saddled animal. Fletcher was the Indian guide and seemed friendly enough. We watched as he started loading the packs. When he finally told us that he was waiting for a couple other people to drop off their stuff, Scout and I agreed that he and Jo should start the hike out. It was another 30 minutes before Fletcher said that I could mount and go on ahead. So, I got on the horse and headed out. We got about as far as the first or second campsite before the horse just stopped. I tried everything ... kicking, clicking, using my halter ends to spank his butt, but he stayed rooted. In vain, I telepathically told him that it would be so much better to get the ride over with while it was still cool, and he's have that much more time to take it easy in the afternoon; but he was determined not to go without his compadres. So, I turned him around, and he gladly made his way back to the corral. The lady at the ranger station had to call Fletcher out. He ruefully finished packing up the other horses, and we were off.

If there's one thing in the world that's painful, it's to be on a trotting horse. And this is what my horse did for 2 hours ... when he wasn't stopped, that is. Trot trot trot. Ouch ouch ouch. (Note: trotting horses are not good for incontinent grannies either.) We overtook two other riders who joined in with us. And my dorky horse would let the other riders pass us, then decide that he'd rather be in front, and try to regain the lead while on the one-horse-at-a-time trails. Fletcher finally broke off a switch, and told me to, "Hit him like you would your boyfriend!" With that enjoinder, I self-righteously swatted away whenever the horse misbehaved.

We reached Hualapai Hilltop around 1100 ... about 11 minutes after Scout and Jo reached it! My rear and lower back were so sore ... but that's just two more areas on a long list. Anyway, they managed to get a few shots of me on my dork horse before I dismounted.

We caravanned out to Kingman ... funny how easy it is to drive 85mph in the daylight ... and had a final farewell lunch at Arby's, which was surprisingly edible. We also took time to appreciate the flush toilets, faucet water, air-conditioning and paved roads.

After an afternoon of spicy V-8, corn nuts and cold drinks, I finally reached home at 1930. Heavenly to unpack, do laundry, shower, take more advil, douse myself with Bengay, watch the most recent episode of, "So You Think You Can Dance," and fall asleep in my enormously comfy bed. Explorations are great, but so is coming home!