Eureka Bulls & Broncs!

Running of the Bulls, Eureka-style!

On Friday, as I was leaving the tiny town of Eureka, Nevada I saw a sign for the Eureka High School Rodeo: May 25, 26 & 27. Never one to pass up a rodeo, I pulled into the fairgrounds and got permission to park my little Teardrop among the dozens of massive horse trailer/ rv combos.

That’s what I call road trip serendipity!

I love a good rodeo and small town rodeos are the best. At these kind of events, it’s easy to saunter right into the action, back behind the livestock chutes and get epic photos. For most of the day on Saturday, I hung out with the bull and bronc riders, the only woman in an adrenaline-soaked crush of cowboys. Not once did anybody ask what I was doing back there, though I did give out a bunch of Blonde Coyote business cards to guys interested in photos (or interested in women who hang out behind bull chutes). All in all, it was a pretty awesome Memorial Day weekend!

Bullriders!

Small Town Rodeo Spurs

Bull Riders Pray Hard

Loading Chute 3

Almost 8 Seconds

Close Call. Getting your hand caught is one of the worst things that can happen during a bull ride. This cowboy was fine and nobody else got hurt all day.

Nobody got hurt, thanks in large part to the bull fighters. Don’t call them rodeo clowns; these guys are incredible athletes and ballsier than the bull riders.

Here Bully Bully

Colorful Competitor

Bull Chute Self Portrait

How close did I get? This close!

Saddling the Saddle Bronc

Saddle Bronc Ready

Saddle Bronc Loosed!

Colorful Combo

Bareback Bronc!

Rescuing the Rider

Aftermath

For more rodeo photos check out my previous posts: Rodeo Americana and Rodeo Americana, Part 2.

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Only In Nevada…

Great Basin Relic… what’s that behind the wheel?

Nobody ever thinks of Nevada. Even if you do, you probably just think of Las Vegas, which is as far – both geographically and aesthetically – from the rest of this wide open state as it’s possible to get.

Nevada is dominated by basin and range topography: big open basins alternating with high mountain ranges,  all marching north to south across the state. The drive from east to west on Highway 50 – nicknamed the Loneliest Highway in America – takes you up and over 7,000-foot mountain passes and then down onto wide open basins, over and over, all day long. It’s paradise on wheels.

Good god! This was so gross – there’s still hair on those hooves! – and yet so awesome.

Yesterday I stopped at Great Basin National Park – one of the last major parks in the West that I hadn’t yet hit – and found this treasure just north of the tiny town of Baker. At first I thought it was just a cool old car junked out in the sage, but as I walked closer, I saw something behind the wheel… These might be some of my new favorite photos, ever!

Old Car, Older Horse!

Where to?

Nice to see you again, Nevada!

For more on road tripping across Nevada, check out my previous post the Extraterrestrial Highway!

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Oregon Trail Ruts, Pioneer Graffiti & the Pony Express

Oregon Trail Ruts D.O.G.

As a kid, the only computer game I ever played was the Oregon Trail. I loved that game. I usually chose to be a doctor, so my wagon train had fewer fatal illnesses, but we often died from hunger since, as a real life vegetarian, I refused to hunt for food, on what I thought were principles.

Now when I travel out West, names like Laramie and Inscription Rock sound familiar, thanks to the Oregon Trail game. In Wyoming, I stopped to visit an actual section of the Oregon Trail and for the first time, began to grasp just how many wagon trains made their way West on this route: ruts from the wagon wheels are worn deep into sheer rock!

The Oregon Trail, eastern Wyoming

Wagon wheel ruts weren’t the only marks the Pioneers left here in rock. Hundreds of travelers also left their names, initials and inscriptions, carved in soft sandstone. Some carvings are more recent (1961) while others are more historic (1872/ 1889).

Register Cliffs, Pioneer signatures

Older section of Register Cliffs

After the Pioneers came the Pony Express, orphan boys riding half-broke mustangs 1,900 miles across the Great Plains, the Rocky Mountains and the High Sierras, delivering mail from Saint Joseph, Missouri to Sacramento, California. These rough riders hold an iconic place in western lore, but the Pony Express only ran for 18 months, from April 1860 until October 1861, until the first telegraph wires were strung across the country. Today, a series of bronze monuments trace the original mail route across the west.

Pony Express Bronze, eastern Wyoming

I used to say I was born a century too late; I would have loved to have been a Pioneer on the Oregon Trail. Now, I’m quite happy to have been born in the early 1980′s. The Pioneers had one hell of an adventure, but I’m more than happy to be crossing the West with the Raven & the Rattler.

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Back to Utah & A Big Thank You To Wilson Electronics!

Life Elevated!

Last week at the end of my post about installing a solar panel on the roof of my Teardrop, I mentioned my next project was to solve my internet connection problem. I use my Verizon/ Samsung Stratosphere phone as a mobile hotspot, but I’ve been having a hard time finding descent cell service on the road.

I got a bunch of emails from readers with a lot of really great ideas (confession: technology is not my strong suit so input is always welcome!). One person suggested I contact Wilson Electronics, an all-American company that manufactures cell phone signal boosting devices. When I looked up Wilson, I was surprised to find they’re based in southwest Utah, one of my favorite places on Earth.

Overlooking Cedar Breaks National Monument in southwest Utah

I sent a brief email to info@wilsonelectronics.com just saying I was a travel writer living and working on the road, looking to solve my internet connection problems. I also mentioned that if they were in need of road testers, I’d be happy to stop by St. George and bring any of their products along on my journey from Utah, to California, to Alaska.

Within hours I got an email back from somebody with Wilson’s PR firm who said if I stopped by the office St. George, they’d hook me up with everything I could possibly need, for free! At the time I was in Laramie, Wyoming, a 10-hour drive via interstates. I told them I’d be in St. George in four days.

Back to Utah, via the scenic route, of course!

Yesterday morning, I showed up in St. George and a representative from Wilson met me in the parking lot, curious to see my Teardrop. I ended up spending most of the day there, meeting the team, touring the assembly line (all components of all Wilson products are made right there in St. George), having lunch, and hanging out while master wire-hider Mike installed not one but two mobile boosters in my rig: a Sleek 4G-V in my car and a dual-band mobile wireless unit in the Teardrop.

My Wilson antenna on the roof of the Teardrop

I’ve had the boosters for less than 24-hours so this is not a fully informed review, but yesterday I drove aways up Beaver Creek Canyon, a deep narrow defile, and when my phone was out of the Sleek booster cradle my phone alternated between the dreaded “searching for service” and one bar and when it was in the Sleek cradle, I had full service.

Right now I’m working from BLM land in the middle of nowhere, western Utah. When the wireless booster unit in the Teardrop is unplugged (I run it off my solar panel but it also comes with a car charger) I have no service and when it’s on I have full bars!

The mobile wireless booster has a very small footprint- just this blue box, the black slimline antenna on the wall and the antenna on the roof.

Now if I can just get Verizon to tell my why my phone keeps displaying this annoying and frustratingly mysterious “Could not connect to AM Server” error message and I’ll be all set! Good customer service is hard to find, unless you’re working with Wilson!

I should note that the team at Wilson installed both my boosters for free with no strings attached. No requests for reviews, publicity, or road reports. Hanging out with the crew yesterday, it was clear that they just thought living and working on the road is awesome  and a unique use of their product and they wanted to do their part to help make my Teardrop dreams come true. A big thanks to Clay, Jon, Blake, Mike and Derek! You guys made my day and my road trip! :)

My office- BLM land in western Utah! Full signal!

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Boondocking Part 2: Finding a Sweet Free Campsite!

Free campsite in Dixie National Forest, near Cedar Breaks, Utah

Now that you know there are 450 million acres acres of public land in the United States that are free for camping, how do you find a sweet spot? Some states, like Wyoming and Utah have vast tracts of public land while others, especially those east of the Mississippi may only have a few pockets of free space.

The best resource I have on the road is my National Geographic Adventure Atlas. Not only does it mark all the developed (usually fee) campgrounds in National Parks, State Parks, Recreation Areas, National Forests and on BLM land, it also shades in National Forests and BLM lands, where you can camp almost anywhere, for free.

National Forests and BLM land are both almost always marked with large brown conspicuous signs that say: “Entering Public Lands” or “Entering National Forest”. Once you’re sure you’re on public land, watch for dirt roads that lead off the main road. In National Forests vehicular side roads (as opposed to foot trails or ATV roads) are usually marked by a brown fiberglass post with three or four white numbers, indicating the Forest Road number.

These side roads often have multiple pull outs and/or end at a dead end. Any spot that’s out of the way, clear and level is fair game for camping, unless marked with a “No Camping” sign. Ideal spots will be off the road far enough for privacy, have space to maneuver a car, room to pitch a tent and in my case, park a Teardrop  and have a nice rock fire ring already in place.

Free cottonwood-shaded campsite in Ashley National Forest, Utah, at the dead end of Forest Road 032.

Ideal campsites have a history about them. Some have been used by travelers for decades: road trippers, RV’ers, bikers, cyclists, hikers and possibly once migrant workers, miners, drifters, Pioneers, Spaniards, explorers and Indians. In my seven years of Boondocking I have camped near Outlaw caves, Pioneer carvings and Native petroglyphs.

These places may have a history, but these days they’re rarely crowded. Occasionally I run into a fellow traveler, but in seven years on the road I’ve never once had a problem with anybody. There’s a code among dispersed campers; nobody’s out there to bother or be bothered and we give each other space, peace and quiet. My worst experiences have been noisy teenagers. Annoying, but we’ve all been there. Kids gotta have fun somewhere. Might as well be the wilderness.

Speaking of sweet free campsites, here are a few shots from my spot in Utah’s Dixie National Forest. After checking out Cedar Breaks National Monument – an incredible Bryce Canyonesque place – I camped for free in neighboring Dixie at a dead end pull out, surrounded by a grove of old arbor-glyphed aspen trees. The dogs and I went for an evening hike around the perimeter of a big open, aspen-ringed meadow and saw a lot of deer and a porcupine, none of which my good dogs chased. :)

Arborglyph: This is the Cross Roads of the World

Aspen Mountain Meadow Dogs

Deer skull, at least two seasons old, judging by the grass growth

1939 Arborglyph

Dixie National Forest D.O.G.

Click here for my previous post on Boondocking 101: How To Camp For Free In Beautiful Places.

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My Intro To Alligator Wrangling!

My moment with the big girl. The power of that beast was incredible. I wish I had a recording of the sounds she was making. This was like sitting on a dragon!

I like to try new things. When I lived in Virginia, I took sailing lessons on the Potomac River. In Maine, I went toboganning and in New Mexico, I got certified as a rattlesnake wrangler.

So a few weeks ago when I visited Colorado Gators in Mosca, Colorado and heard they offered an alligator wrangling course, I signed up. Alligator wrangling isn’t the sort of thing you do by yourself, so I also signed up one of my more reckless adventure partners, Drew, calling it his 29th birthday present.

Colorado Gators is a dangerous place!

Alligator wrangling is as wild and foolish as you might imagine. The fact that there is a place in this obnoxiously litigeous country where you can sign a single sheet of paper, wade out into a stew of gators, grab one by the tail, haul it thrashing onto the beach and then leap on its back makes me proud. I thought you had to go to South America for this kind of no holds barred fun!

First, we started small. Our instructor, professional gator wrangler Joe, kicked things off by shedding his Croc sandals and wading barefoot into a tank of young gators and snapping turtles.

We started small, this guy is about 5 years old, and worked our way up…

Drew and I kept our boots on and took turns grabbing the gators by the back of their necks, holding them against the bottom of the tank (you can’t drown a gator, at least not easily) until they stopped thrashing enough to get a good hold on the neck and the base of the tail, then we lifted them out of the water for inspection.

Every day, all day long at Colorado Gators, Joe and his gator wrangling colleagues catch gators and inspect them for injuries. The number one cause of alligator death here (they are not killed for their hides or meat) is from fights with other gators. Alligators are not nice creatures, not even to each other. They clash constantly for space, food and dominance and the results can be ugly.

Joe giving a 9-foot female an injection of antibiotics after a fight with the most dominant female in the park. Notice the wounds on her face. Joe confessed he’s terrified of needles. That’s something, coming from a man sitting on top of an angry alligator like it’s a park bench.

Each gator we caught, 14 in total, was checked for injuries and treated with Neosporin. We must have gone through half a dozen tubes of the stuff. Lots of gators means lots of fights: Colorado Gators is home to about 360 gators, about half of which were confiscated pets. Alligators do not make good pets! As head wrangler Jay says, “You can’t make friends with an alligator. The more an alligator gets to know you, the more it wants to bite you.”

After we caught and handled three each of the smaller gators, Joe took us on a little detour to see and handle a 100-pound alligator snapping turtle, rescued from somebody’s flooded basement, and a Nile crocodile, one of the foulest tempered creatures I’ve ever met, also a former pet. People are nuts.

Alligator snapping turtle! I still have bruises on my legs from picking up this guy.

Joe with Osiris, the very volatile Nile Crocodile

Then we got to the medium-sized gator pool, with about two dozen alligators between 4 and 7 feet long. Still barefoot, Joe waded out into the pool, which had a muddy bottom (concrete does horrible things to alligator skin, one of the problems with gators kept as backyard pets) and about 2 feet of dark green water, perfect for preventing gator sunburn but also great camouflage for the dark green gators.

Joe grabbed the biggest gator in the pool by the tail and dragged it backwards through the water onto the beach. The gator lit up at Joe’s contact, thrashing back and forth with such force, it was a wonder that he held on without dislocating a shoulder. Each time the gator threw her body to the side, Joe responded by jumping the opposite way, always staying at the end of her tail. “Stay away from the mouth,” was his instruction. No kidding.

My fifth gator, about five feet long

Once on the beach, Joe gave the gator’s tail a few tugs, then heaving it backwards, flung the tail down and leaped onto the gator’s neck, landing with his knees on the ground on either side of the gator’s back. With his hands on the back of the gator’s neck, the beast couldn’t turn its head sideways to bite, but it countered by thrashing from side to side, whipping its tail and clawing at Joe’s bare feet. Undaunted, Joe clamped his whole body down hard, and then lifted the gator’s torso and front feet off the ground. “Ok,” he said to us, as we stood open-mouthed at the edge of the pool, “this is what you’re going to do.” Right…

Professional gator wrangler Joe showing us how it’s done on one of the big girls. This position, where the front feet are lifted off the ground is when a gator is considered officially wrangled.

Gator wrangling is not a thinking man’s sport. It reminded me of cliff jumping: If you think about it too much, you can’t do it. So before I could think too much, I waded out, picked one of the smaller gators and grabbed it by the tail. If the rest wasn’t on video, I wouldn’t quite be able to believe that I dragged the beast out of the water, jumped on its back and rode it thrashing around in the sand until I could lever its feet off the ground, effectively immobilizing it for Joe’s injury inspection.

My gator needed most of a tube of Neosporin, but Drew’s needed none: by sheer bad luck,  he grabbed the alpha female out of the pool. She fought like a dragon, nearly ripping apart Drew’s rugby-injured right shoulder, due for surgery next week.

Drew’s gator, wrangled. He earned this one!

By the time Drew and I had each wrestled three medium-sized gators, my hands and arms were aching and I had a good-sized cut across my palm. I Neosporined myself up, straight from the alligator tube, then we moved on to what Joe called “the big one”, a 9-foot female in a different pen. Much to our relief, Joe told us he’d catch her and then we’d help doctor her wounds; she had recently gotten loose from her pen and crossed paths with the largest alpha female, a ruthless bitch named Laurie.

As we were standing at the edge of the ominously unnamed 9-footer’s pool, Joe said, “now watch, when I pull out this rope, she’s going to try to hide”. Sure enough, as soon as she caught a glimpse of that long green rope, the gator slipped into the shadows under a deck. Gators are smarter than you think!

This place has the best signs. The pier/ deck in the background was the stage for Joe’s crazy stunt.

Joe walked out onto the deck and before I could lift my camera, right as Drew said “No way!”, he hurdled the railing and fell ten feet down off the deck, into the water, onto the alligator’s back. The water erupted. All we could see through the spray were teeth, tail, and Joe’s black leather hat, holding on. After riding the furious alligator around the pool for a couple of laps, she finally let up enough for Joe to get his rope around her neck. Then he waded to the shore and called us over to help him pull her onto the beach.

“How’s that for entertainment?!” Joe asked, hauling on the rope and grinning like a maniac. I told him it was probably the single craziest thing I had ever witnessed anybody do in person. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he said. “Figured since she was lined up just right, I’d go for it.” Not a thinking man’s sport, indeed.

Joe performing the chin trick, another ridiculously dangerous move. It took him a year of handling alligators to work up to this point.

I asked Joe how he got to be an alligator wrangler and he told me he’d originally moved to the area to help his grandparents and was working at a nearby potato farm, shoveling mashed potatoes when his grandfather brought him to the gator farm for the day. For Joe, it was instant love and he began spending so much time at the farm that they eventually hired him full time.

Five years later, he’s leaping off decks onto the backs of 9-foot alligators. ”I still can’t believe I get paid for this,” he said. I’m not about to ask for a job, but I know how he feels: In all of my photos with the gators, I’m grinning ear to ear like a little kid, having the time of my life!

Totally thrilled to have wrangled my first gator!

Colorado Gators calls this class “the world’s only alligator wrestling course”. To Joe’s knowledge, nobody else offers this kind of hands on experience. The $100 price includes a 3-hour private class, a CD of dozens of photos (all the photos of me with the gators were taken by Joe) as well as a very official “Certificate of Insanity”. Best $100 bucks I’ve ever spent!

To sign up for the world’s only alligator wrestling course call 719-378-2612 at least a week ahead of time. Classes are offered every day of the week. In early August the farm will hold their annual “Gatorfest Alligator Rodeo” where former students compete for biggest gator bragging rights. You must have completed the handling course and take a refresher to compete. Too bad I’ll be in Alaska in August. Next year!

To read more about the history of Colorado Gators, which is actually a tilapia farm that uses alligators to dispose of dead fish, check out my previous post: Colorado Gators! My gator wrangling video is here. :)

Class Photo!

Posted in Photography, Road tripping!, Uncategorized | 18 Comments

Boondocking 101: How To Camp For Free In Beautiful Places

Free campsite in California’s Los Padres National Forest

Like everything else these days, camping is expensive. Most National Parks are $20 a night and a campsite at a state park in California will set you back $35! If I regularly camped at State Parks, National Parks, Recreation Areas or KOA’s I couldn’t afford to live on the road. To save money and seek solitude, I stick to public lands – BLM, National Forests and National Grasslands –  where the camping is free and the crowds are nonexistent.

Wyoming BLM. Brown wooden signs in that shape always catch my eye. They stand for free land!

Dispersed camping, also known as boondocking or coyote camping (how appropriate!), means free camping in remote areas without campground amenities like picnic tables, grills or bathroom facilities. Boondocking is not for everybody, especially the bathroom part, but if you’re willing to rough it a bit, there is a ton of free camping out there.

All BLM, National Forest and National Grasslands are open to dispersed camping, unless otherwise marked. Every so often you might see signs that say “No Camping” or “Camp Only In Designated Campsites”, but usually only near cities or National Park boundaries with a potential for overuse.

Free campsite in the Hoh Rainforest National Forest, Washington’s Olympic Peninsula

On most National Forest lands, you can stay at the same site for a maximum of 14 days. The BLM usually imposes a 21-day limit and Arizona and California have Long Term Visitor Areas where you can park a tent, car, van or RV for months at a time.

No matter where you end up camping or how long you stay, always practice Leave No Trace! That means when you drive away from your campsite, there should be no trace that you were ever there: no new fire rings, no trash, no mess. Take only photographs and leave only footprints!

Free campsite in Medicine Bow National Forest, Wyoming

In my two weeks in Utah I only paid for three nights of camping (one night at Hovenweep National Monument and two nights at Fisher Towers) and in Wyoming, I have yet to pay for a night of camping. This state is BLM paradise!

For more cheap road tripping tips, read my previous post: How To Budget For A Killer Road Trip and for a breakdown of the cost of life on the road check out: On the Road, Again: California, By the Numbers.

*** This post brought to you by reader request. Got questions about life on the road? Just ask!  :)

Posted in Road tripping!, Vagabonding 101, Photography, Sustainable Living | 8 Comments

The Power of the Sun, In My Teardrop!

My Teardrop, back at Vedauwoo, all tricked out!

Check out my pimped out, powered up Teardrop! Yesterday, with the help of solar mastermind Lawrence Jenkins at Front Range Renewable Energy in Frederick, Colorado I had a solar panel installed on my Teardrop. I’m one step closer to having a fully mobile office!

The panel is a 135-watt, 28-pound  Kyocera panel, mounted to the roof with two aluminum brackets. The wires run down through the sunroof to a 10-amp charge controller and then to a 55 amp-hour sealed battery. A 400-watt inverter then converts the DC power to AC, giving me more than enough power to run my laptop, charge my phone and camera and run the Teardrop’s interior LED lights.

Charge controller mounted to the wall, running to a 55 amp hour battery and an inverter. Pretty slick!

I make my living on the road as a freelance writer, mainly by covering geoscience news for EARTH magazine. Each month I write between five and ten stories for EARTH, which takes no small amount of time at the keyboard.

Last month, I spent about $250 working at cafes, and camping in RV parks and state parks with electric hookups. My new fully customized solar kit ran me $1,101, including all parts and installation. A bit of an investment, yes, but now I can pull over and work from anywhere, which is priceless! I have to say, Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest makes for a pretty sweet office! :)

That panel looks like it was made for this Teardrop! It fits perfectly sideways on the roof. Too cool.

A big thank you to Lawrence, president and sole proprietor of Front Range Renewable Energy! Lawrence put more than 20 hours into customizing and installing my solar kit and only charged me for two. He was also totally enthusiastic about my Teardrop and lifestyle on the road and he graciously let me hang around his shop all day during the install, pestering him with questions. Finding just the right person for the job is pretty priceless too. :)

Now to solve my internet problem. I have a mobile hot spot through my Verizon Android phone, but it’s very temperamental and not good for my blood pressure. Now that I have a power source, I might look into a cell signal booster. Ideas and suggestions are more than welcome!

Posted in Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101, Sustainable Living | 31 Comments

The Ghosts of Outlaws Past

Butch Cassidy’s Glove?!

These days, Hole in the Wall, Wyoming is as rural as this country gets; long dirt roads lead on forever, with few signs to guide the way. Back in Wyoming’s Wild West days this place was even wilder: around the turn of the century, the steep and rugged Powder River canyons served as an outlaw hideout for the likes of Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid and the Wild Bunch.

The geography of the Hole in the Wall region, just west of Kaycee, Wyoming, is ideal for a hideout: impenetrable red cliffs leave only a few passages in from the east and the west is guarded by the deep and narrow Powder River canyons. Outlaws could graze stolen cattle and horses in the valley and retreat into the canyons if lawmen appeared on the treeless horizon.

Hole in the Wall Country

Outlaw Cave, one of the more infamous hideouts still standing – most of the cabins and corrals are long gone – remains as hard to find and hard to get to as you might imagine an outlaw hideout would be. I set out to find the cave with only a red dot on my Adventure Atlas to guide my way. Somewhat vague directions are available online, but I was in the mood for an adventure.

My quest took me down miles of back dirt roads, alongside one of which I found an abandoned newborn foal. Eventually, after reuniting the foal with her mother, I found a road sign for Outlaw Cave Road, but the road quickly deteriorated and I had to leave the Teardrop behind and then my Subaru and continue on foot.

A clue! Too bad it says camper trailers are not recommended down this road.

Abandoning the Subaru

At the end of the road I found a faint trail leading down into the Powder River canyon. The trail was extremely steep and rocky, at times, disappearing all together. With every step down, I couldn’t help but think about all the steps up I’d have to take to get out of this canyon. On a high after finding that foal, I kept on. This was a day for treasure.

The trail down into the Powder River canyon. We came down through that notch above.

At the bottom of the canyon, on the banks of the fast and cold river, the trail stopped. It was a hot day and I didn’t mind getting wet, so I followed the river downstream, getting soaked until I spotted a faint trail running above the river.

Powder River Self Portrait

Trail running above the Powder River

The trail was narrow and crumbly, above a long drop into the water. Right when the going was getting super sketchy and I was contemplating giving up and turning back, I looked up and saw the cave, in the cliffs above the river. A bit of scrambling and I was inside, hanging out by fire pits once frequented by some of the West’s most infamous outlaws.

Outlaw Cave!

Bowie in Outlaw Cave. Outlaw Cave isn’t big, maybe 20 feet wide and 20 feet deep, but it’s cozy and completely hidden from the rim.

Bowie and I hung out in the back of the cave, enjoying the cool cave air on a hot day, but Dio stayed by the entrance, on guard and uneasy. At one point, I swore I heard voices and thought somebody might be invading my hideout, but when I joined Dio at the entrance, the canyon was as quiet as they come. Shiver; in Wyoming, the Wild Bunch ghosts live on…

Me & Dio on the lookout in Outlaw Cave

Posted in Bowie & D.O.G., Cowboys & Horses, Hiking!, Photography, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | 26 Comments

Filly Lost & Found: A Mother’s Day Post

Lost filly near Hole in the Wall, Wyoming

This week in Wyoming, one of my childhood dreams came true. Somewhat lost on back roads, searching for Butch Cassidy’s Outlaw Cave in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, I happened to look off to the side of the red dirt road and saw something that made my heart stop: a tiny red foal, all alone, laying down among the red rocks, no mare in sight.

I immediately pulled over, left the dogs in the car and climbed up the bank above the road to get a better look. I grew up with horses, but I’d never seen one so new; the foal was no more than a few hours old. As I approached, slowly, talking sweetly, and holding my hands palms up and open in front of me, the baby whinnied and wobbled to her feet.

Mares will sometimes leave a foal if it is sickly or deformed, but this one seemed well enough and looked perfect. She took a few unsteady steps towards me and whinnied again, making desperate suckling motions with her mouth. Gently, I ran my fingertips down her velvet nose, the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and she latched on to my finger. She was alive but thirsty, hot and stressed. She needed her mom, fast.

Poor baby was hugging that pole like it might be her mother

Miraculously, I had an idea where her mom was. A few miles back down the road, I had passed a field of mares and foals and noticed one mare running back and forth, calling frantically. At the time, I thought, poor thing must have lost her foal. I never dreamed I’d find it!

Quickly I ran through my options. She was too weak and wobbly to walk back to the field, even if I could get her to follow me. I could try to put her in my car or in my Teardrop and drive her back down the road, but I was afraid to handle her too much, in case my scent or the dogs’ might make the mare reject her. So I told her I’d be right back, ran to my car, drove back to the ranch and tracked down the owner, an older man with a big hat and a bigger moustache.

The Hole in the Wall Ranch, Barnum, Wyoming

Sure enough, one of his mares, a first-time mom, had gone off to give birth overnight and returned in the morning without the baby. He assumed it was dead and seemed incredulous to hear that she was on her feet. He asked if I would go wait with the foal while he hitched up his trailer.

The filly was still standing where I left her. I grabbed my camera and sat on the ground in front of her, talking sweetly, assuring her that help was on the way. I wanted so badly to run my hands over her, to feel that newborn baby softness again. Even her tiny hooves were still soft and curled from the womb, not yet hardened by life on earth. I looked into her big brown eyes and she looked back at me, the first human she’d ever seen and it was love.

Filly Love. Those eyelashes! Those ears! That crooked star! What a doll.

In my childhood fantasy, I find an orphaned foal and she’s mine and I’m hers, forever. I raise her by bottle, teach her everything I know about being a horse and she teaches me everything she knows about being a horse mother and the two of us grow up together. Now, 30 years old and tied to nothing but a couple of dogs and a Teardrop trailer, I’m glad to know her mom’s just down the road, hopefully eager for a reunion. Watching over this foal for a few minutes is as close to motherhood as I want to get.

When the rancher arrived, he looked her over, and told me he thought she’d be all right. The mare was still looking for her, hadn’t yet forgotten and hopefully they’d be happily reunited. He guessed the steep bank above the road might have been their undoing; if the mare gave birth up here, the baby may have been unable to follow her home. With that he picked her up, carried her down the bank and loaded her into his trailer.

Goodbye Filly, Best of Luck!

As he was driving away, he leaned out the window of his truck and asked me, “Hey what’s your name?” I told him and he said, “It’s a filly. I’m going to name her after you. Thanks again.” I’ve never been so honored by anything in my life.

Dedicated to all the moms in my life: my mom and her mother, Meg and Meg, Amy and Lesly, Shumin and Reinhild. You ladies are amazing. Happy Mother’s Day!

Posted in Cowboys & Horses, Photography, Road tripping! | 29 Comments