Horsin’ Around

Getting back on the horse, so to speak . . .

Ghost Riders on the Beach

Spring equinox horseback riding on the beach waiting for the full moon. I read about it and knew I wanted to do it. What a concept on a beautiful night. There was no better way to welcome spring than a warm ocean breeze, a white sand beach, a majestic horse, and a full moon over Baja California Sur. We met up at the stables and were taken by car about 10 miles down the beach where the horses stood waiting. I have ridden many times, but would not consider myself an experienced rider so I opted for one of the slower guys, Compadre. I spoke with him before getting up onto the saddle and knew he was a gentle soul.

Compadre & Me

As we began our trek down the beach it was obvious he had no desire to hurry and neither did I, as we sauntered along the magnificent seacoast We were often close to the last rider, with only one slower horse behind us that was literally asleep on his feet with his tongue lobbing out to the side. The horses do these treks so often they can obviously do it sleepwalking. I had the reins and pulled Compadre toward the right so we could get closer to the waves. He complied but didn’t seem thrilled about the new route. He preferred to do it his way so I relented. By this time the horse behind was awake and got ahead of us. The sun was going down, the beach was beautiful and the sky was full of stars. The full moon would be coming up soon. We passed people on the beach but the community areas were quiet with not much activity. We were going so slow that I had no need to hold the reins, but instead held onto the saddle horn (first mistake). There were people near the beach but not close to us. It was a glorious ride.

Until . . . it wasn't. And all hell broke loose in an instant.

Compadre heard or saw something that I didn’t, and got spooked. He reared his head up and stepped sideways to the left leaving me behind on the sand, struggling to breathe. In an instant, another face plant but this time there was no tequila involved (Gaslight District, San Diego). He immediately stopped when he realized I had fallen off. If I had held onto the reins this could have been avoided. It was a total shock and I was immediately out of control trying to figure out what was happening. This resulted in a trip to urgent care for X-rays as I struggled to breathe, walk and get into a car. The right side of my back was throbbing and my breathing was shallow causing some dizziness, along with the aching in the right side of my head and face, and my knees. Fortunately one of the riders was a nurse. Once it was determined I was coherent and my neck was okay, I was helped up to rest on a ledge before being guided to the car for transport.

At the clinic I was finally able to inhale deeply. X-rays showed nothing broken, only bruising and the side of my face/head and knees were sand-burned and sore. The medical care was impressive. They gave me anti-inflammatory meds, a shot for pain (non-narcotic) and they sent me home with Vitamin B shots to be given to myself once a day! Should I faint now or wait until I stick the needle in my butt, no less? The doctor saw the distress on my face and told me to come back once a day and they would do it, no argument there! I have no clue how to give myself a shot and am not interested in learning.

The Mexican people were so incredibly helpful and genuine. The stable owners wife never left my side and paid for everything. The doctor gave me strict instructions to rest for the next few days saying I would be really sore. But it didn’t happened! I am astounded at how quickly I healed. The following morning I was already better, and two days later it’s almost like it never happened. I’m sure it has to do with the vitamin shots. When I first arrived in Baja I hit my knee on a bedpost and was bruised for almost 3 weeks. In only a few days the bruising on my knees and face has faded considerably and the ribs are back to normal. I can’t explain it, because when it happened I felt sure I had seriously injured myself. I am so grateful to heal this quickly and thank my lucky stars. That little angel that rides on my shoulder was definitely with me. My spirit guides are always out there watching over me. 

So what happened to Compadre that spooked him so badly? I decided to go see him to let him know I was okay. I’m sure he was very frightened that night, and since all the attention was on me he was left not knowing. He needed to know. I drove to the stables and told Betto (owner) I wanted to see Compadre. I walked up to him, stroked the side of his incredibly soft snout,  and assured him I was okay; that I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me. He immediately nuzzled his nose into my chest, pushing against me ever so slightly. I stood with him for some time and we connected; he understood. 

I could be just as crazy about horses as I am dogs, if only I had a place for one. So whenever I get an opportunity to go on a horseback ride, I take it. Horses are spiritual creatures with a deep connection to humans. They are magical animals. Their intuitiveness and their relationship with us is profound. They are often used in healing therapies. The Tao of Equus: A Woman's Journey of Healing and Transformation through the Way of the Horse is an incredible book written by a Linda Kohanov. She rescues abused horses and works with abused women. In the initial therapy session she puts horses in a ring with abused victims and the horses choose who they want to work with. Invariably the most abused horse will choose the most abused woman. 

I have another date with Compadre, a morning beach ride. What a beautiful way to end our time in Baja California Sur, connecting with this majestic creature. Getting back on the horse, so to speak—but this time I will hang on to the reins.

Where Are We, Toto?

Abandoned Surfboard

Spacious Shade

Nestled into our thirty foot trailer by the beach in Los Barriles, we are in the perfect spot for the moment. The yard is totally enclosed with a large palapa providing shade from the afternoon sun. It’s lovely having a fenced area for the dogs. 

Outdoor Fridge

Surfer Boy

Truly a doggie paradise, they are free to run the beaches with abandonment and swim for chuck-it balls in the surf. We are literally 80 paces to the white sand and dogs are everywhere. Los Barriles is a wind surfing destination and the afternoon landscape is peppered with colorful wind sails and kites. The calm morning waters are perfect for paddle boarders working their core muscles. 4-wheelers are allowed on the beach but only in the lanes provided for track vehicles. Winter storms provide piles and piles of wonderful driftwood on the upper beaches. There is always a breeze making the 75 degree temperatures very pleasant. The trailer has a fan keeping the inside cool during the day and chilly at night for sleeping. AC is also available but we rarely need to turn it on. We are in a quiet RV Park with El Gecko Restaurant just a stone’s throw away. Happy hour is everyday from 11-5 and the pollo quesadillas are amazing. They offer a shaded area with lounge chairs near the water, and are happy to wait on the sunbathers. Chairs can also be pulled out of the shade and into the full sun for maximum tanning.

Alaska White

Five dogs sleep on the bed at night. Guinness has developed a habit of needing a drink and a poop around 5 AM each morning. He sits up and starts panting. Sometimes after a few pats on the head he will flop back down for an hour. Recently he has been persistent. The rest of us are like, Really? It’s still dark outside!

Guinny

This morning I was hoping for a reprieve of a few more minutes of shut-eye when I heard the thump of a dog hitting the carpeted floor. OMG! Struggling for the light above my head, while the others are moving over so I can get out of the blanket,  I find Guinny has landed on the backside of the bed and is making his way around in hot pursuit of the door. I grabbed my sandals and after checking to make sure he was okay, I opened the front door just in time to see him scamper down the 4 steps.The incredible full moon to the West was lighting his way. By this time all the dogs have arrived at the door, except Bunny and Anne who must be lifted down off the bed. Oh well, guess it’s time to get up after all. I put on water for the French press, checked my iPhone for messages, and got out the computer to write a blog. In typical doggie fashion, they are now all back to sleep beside me on the couch as I ingest myself with caffeine and start my day.

Pike's Market

Looking for the Sun

Marathon driving from Whitehorse to Fort Nelson (600+ miles) made for an exhausting day, especially when you count the drama inside Toyota Lander. Imagine looking in the rear view mirror and seeing a dog assume the position without being able to do anything about it! She had desperately tried to climb out the closed window before the eruption. Poor AnnBanan could not help but poop in the backseat three times before I could find a place to pull over. Bless her, she tried to cover it up with the dog blankets. She was mortified. Bunny and Guinness stayed on the other side of the seat to get away from her, while RockDog and Brody cuddled on the passenger seat, occasionally looking back to give her the proverbial stink eye.

Once again breaking my rule of not driving after dark, we continued on as there was no place to stop. We finally made it to the Shannon Motel where only one dog is permitted for $10 extra. We have stayed here many times with multiple dogs because it is the first motel you see after a long day of driving, and it’s easy to get the dogs inside without being noticed. This previous quiet, nondescript motel was now unrecognizable with various colored blinking lights adorning the outside. The place could have passed for a brothel or casino but the sign still said Rooms Available. I signed the register, paid the extra $10 and was happy they didn’t ask me how many dogs. It got a bit weird when we pulled in front of our room to unload and saw the owner walking in the yard. This was a good time to fill up with gas and walk the dogs at the service station instead of the motel yard. When we returned the owner was gone and we managed to get all five dogs into the room undetected.

Did I mention it is absolutely freezing here?  At a temperature hovering around minus 13, most people were staying inside, and it was dark with minimal reflection from the snow. After dinner the dogs were ready to stretch out on both the beds and I was actually able to take a bubble bath. The bathtub wasn’t great but the hot water still felt good on my weary legs. Who knew there was a Motel 6 right down the road with a much nicer tub where all dogs are welcome ? Oh well, note for next time.

After a good nights sleep we were ready to go at 7 AM. I took the dogs out separately to avoid being busted. Apparently I didn’t get the door properly latched—dogs are opportunists at heart—and when I turned around all five of them were running around the yard! OMG, Panic!  Chasing Anne on the ice with a sore knee in my Birks was a bit tricky. I actually got her on leash quicker than I expected and all the others followed me back to the room for breakfast.  And the good news? They all pooped before coming in as I frantically bagged the evidence. Yay! Hopefully there will be no accidents in the car today. Again, we were lucky to be unnoticed but at this hour, it was still a frigid minus 11 degrees. 

I started the car and began loading it after feeding the hounds. After about 15 minutes I took another load to the car and noticed it was still freezing and frosted up! OMG! Is the heater out?. The mind goes into overdrive figuring out how we can continue with no heater, or where we could get it repaired? After looking closely, it appeared Lander was only sitting there and had not really started. I apparently did not push the start button long enough, or forgot to put my foot on the brake. I fired her up, set my timer for another 15 minutes and when I came back out she was warm as toast. Major relief! 

Today we’re on our way toward the highway that cuts off the Alaska Highway and goes down to Abbotsford BC, a  border crossing into Washington State, still about 700 miles away. We will still be in British Columbia tonight but will be officially off the Alaska Highway and back to civilization as we know it. We are avoiding Vancouver and the Seattle area at all costs because of an amazing amount of snowfall. I just looked at the thermometer and it said minus 20, when I looked again it read minus 15 and I was elated. Can you imagine being excited about minus 15? 

So happy to report, we have officially left Sergeant Preston of the Yukon and his amazing dog King behind as we continue our exhausting search for snow free roads and warmer weather. We are headed south. Arizona and the hot sun are out there somewhere and we can't wait! 

Little did we know we were still thousands of snowy miles away . . .

Traveling with Dogs

Traveling with dogs that have a sense of humor is not always easy and can be totally exasperating. If I’m not one step ahead of them with my own sense of humor, things can turn sour in an instant. They are confused, wondering what the hell happened to their couch, their bed, their deck and Katie Jean Circle. All eyes staring at me with a “when are we going home” look. The rules as they know them are currently on hold as they try and find their way on a journey that keeps changing—a car ride for 8 days, resting for 5 days in Arizona, 3 more days in the car, a guest room in Baja for a week, and now an RV on the beach. Before they return home they will spend a month on the Oregon coast and have another 4,000 mile car ride. No wonder they are confused! Dogs are routine oriented and mine are no different, but living with a wanderlust spirit is unpredictable and flexibility is the key. I give them lots of slack but nevertheless, it’s a job trying to stay ahead of them. Here are just a few ‘laughables’ in the life of a blonde wanderlust with her 5 cocker spaniels on the road.

Brody quickly learned how to step on the electric window button in the backseat and rolls his window down at will, thinking it’s all pretty cool. That is, until he steps on the electric door lock when I’m not in the car. Brody you need to learn to unlock the car too! 

He's our surfer boy, always ready for a swim in the waves chasing his orange tennis ball. 

Guinness took off running (Yes, running!) when I let him out for a walk-about at a self-made rest area. I struggled with my post-op knee to catch him; it was his way of saying: ‘Get me the hell out of this car’ after more than twelve hours. 

RockDog became chicken little again opening the oven door in the RV in hopes of once again dining on succulent poultry. He has been rewarded several times with chicken from the oven and has been the pack hero. But today, he had to settle for an empty oven with only the trash can on top the stove—put there to be out of reach of the blonde mop-top called Anne, aka AnnBanan. The find wasn’t much for all his effort—just an empty yogurt container from breakfast.

And the mischievous one, the one that really keeps me on my toes, the one that jumps tall buildings for a crumb has been up to her tricks as usual. So far AnnBanan has escaped twice, had three diarrhea blowouts in the backseat, eaten a month’s supply of homeopathic pellets for Guinness, dumped Starbucks coffee in my car and drank it—twice, followed her nose and attempted to break into the glove box for a piece of garlic chicken pizza and a breakfast cookie. I’m proud to say she was unsuccessful. 

Last night she jumped out of the car before her leash was snapped, me grabbing at and missing her, swearing, and chasing her ass around the RV park—after having a few margaritas. It was not pretty. Oh, and let’s not forget the can of Pringles that she inhaled while I was pumping gas. And the kibble she pulled off the counter in the motel room while I was loading the car, and all four dogs were chowing down. This obviously relates to the poop issues on the road.  

And there was the Travelodge in Page,  Arizona where she had the coffee condiments immediately pulled to the floor—opening up the sugar and the creamer and gobbling it up in a nanosecond. My favorite man’s purse, the one given to me by my London travel mate, chewed to bits all because I left a treat in the bottom and she smelled it. My bad for leaving it within her reach. She is relentless, marching to her own drum with a cocked blonde mop-top wearing that look,  the one that says it all—Who Me? Or, Whaaat?

And then there is Bunny, Sweet Little BunBun—who does nothing wrong . . . not ever.

Tok Junction, AK to Whitehorse, YT

It has warmed up to a balmy 1° and the glorious sun is out with some fresh snow on the windshield. We now have 3 dogs with diarrhea. Thank goodness for the magic pills from the vet. At this rate our supply will be depleted soon and we may be up shit creek until we reach Phoenix. 

With a breakfast protein cookie and Folger’s coffee in hand (no Starbucks here), we hit the road early. The car is full of sleepy dogs and life is good for the moment. The 92 miles from Tok to the Canadian border is called The Purple Heart Highway. We officially crossed into the Yukon at Beaver Creek. and wonder how we missed it.  I remember this as being one of the rudest towns in the Yukon, but we apparently drove by it without noticing. Many things are closed for the winter. The Customs Officer smiled when he saw the 5 dogs leaning out the window. They were hoping for MacDonald’s but it was not to be. Instead we were asked for their rabies certificates. Usually I pay $400 to secure the appropriate paperwork to cross the border, and they never ask for it. I have actually requested Customs to please look at it, and they have just smiled and waved me through. But today he actually looked at it.

The sunrise was spectacular and the 386 mile drive was long with multiple potty stops. The roads in the Yukon used to be notoriously awful, but they are now wide and well maintained. What a reprieve from the narrow passages and potholes that could easily swallow a car up back in the day. There was absolutely no traffic—just miles and miles of open road. The trucks can throw rocks that seriously crack windshields. When we saw a truck approaching we would say the mantra aloud “No Rocks Please,” and it worked. That is, until the time we forgot as a large 18-wheeler blew by at close to 70 MPH. BAM! The one time we weren’t paying attention a large stone left an imprint on the glass at forehead level. Back to “No Rocks Please,” for the next 1,500 miles. 

We arrived early evening at the Airport Chalet, our go-to motel in Whitehorse. Many rooms are pet friendly, and the hotel has a restaurant and bar. Perfect, 5 dogs and I are given a room key for the motel section out back. Add a bacon cheeseburger, a salad and coke for dinner and we are set. Little did I know this would be my last decent meal for a few days. The shitstorm lurking just over the horizon would prove exhausting for all concerned. 

It was still 1° and the dogs didn’t want to stay out for long, even though Brody went for a run around the motel. He needed to stretch those little legs. The rest of the dogs were happy to stay with me, do their never-ending business and go inside. A good rest was had by all with no emergency walks in the middle of a frigid night with temperatures dropping to -20°. The following morning I took some things to a cold car, started the engine and organized our nest for the long ride ahead. Back to the room to find Anne,  once again the pack hero. She had the dog food container pulled off the dresser and opened up for all to see. Four dogs were chowing down. The only one by the door was Brody waiting for me. He couldn’t care less about the food; he’d rather go for a run. 

We are officially on the road at 7:50 AM driving toward an incredible sunrise in the Yukon. Our destination is Fort Nelson BC tonight—600 miles, a very long day. The roads are amazing and 70 MPH is the norm. Hopefully the magic pills will keep the diarrhea at bay. 

In my dreams . . .

And now for some gory details. . .

Brothers Sharing The Seat

The trip south began on a Saturday morning early in February, 2019. The roads were clear and the temperature was 32 degrees. It was extremely foggy from Nilnilchik to Soldotna. A Toyota called Lander was loaded with 4 snoring cocker spaniels asleep in the backseat, and RockDog assuming his passenger position in the front. They had no idea their life was about to change. This wasn’t just another joy ride to Anchorage. This trip would span days on end causing them stress from their broken routine, resulting in mega emergency stops for the trots that were non-stop amongst them for the next 8 days. But now I’m getting ahead of the story. 

It Wasn't Me!

The plan was to spend the night in Wasilla with family before beginning the marathon ride to Phoenix. That said, early the next morning my first clue of the trip to come was in the kitchen. A spot of diarrhea on the floor and the question was: whodunit? And, no one was talking or in this case barking. The yard was filled with fresh snow with a thick layer of ice underneath. Keep in mind that the dogs are not used to leashes. They are free to go outside in Homer when they want, and are trained to stay near the house—including Anne. However, this trip was going to be different. They were all sporting new color-coordinated harnesses and leashes for their journey south, but were adamantly rejecting the idea. I stopped at the local pet store to buy a retractable leash for the dog pulling me the most—Anne. Her revenge was to twist and turn around me as much as she could so that my legs were bound. The smirk on her lips said it all—leash me if you must, but I will get even. That said, this morning I decided to let Anne off leash (my bad) with the others because her pulling and yanking was killing my knee after having surgery only two weeks ago. 

Four dogs found a spot over the hill in the snow to relieve themselves. I elected to stand on the solid ground in the driveway and ponder the question of who really had diarrhea on the kitchen floor, and not having a clue. All four dogs rushed back to the house, only the lone cocker spaniel with the blonde mop-top was still out. When the dogs went over the hill, Anne went in the opposite direction as usual. So now, to find the wandering one. . . 

Mop-Top

It was 6 AM and no one in the house was awake except me and five dogs. I climbed into the frozen car and waited for the windows to thaw—looking for any movement in the darkness. Anne escaped here once before and was found at the apartment house across the street rummaging around for any scrapes available for the starving dog that she is NOT. I knew she wasn’t in the deep snow so she had to be in a cleared area. I drove to the apartment parking lot. She was not there—why was I not surprised? A trip down the highway to the gas station resulted thankfully, in still no mop-top. Running on the road could have been a disaster. I returned to the house, grabbed a couple dogs and set out to drive the neighborhood yet again. As we lingered past the apartment house I saw some movement in the shadows. We slowed the car down and turned in to find her with her nose to the ground thoroughly engrossed in the act of snooping. I opened the drivers door and she jumped in without a word from me. But, the look she gave me said, “WHAT” with her eyebrows raised. She can indeed be exasperating.

We enjoyed a nice family breakfast before setting off for our first leg, only to Tok, Alaska. Going any further would have meant total darkness for hours before getting anywhere near a motel for the night. The first 3 numbers of the odometer read 884. Ironically that was my phone number as a young child, you know when the operator would ask you what number you wanted? Well, maybe you don’t know. In any event, four is my lucky number so I took that reading as a good luck symbol, and in hindsight it truly was. Did I mention the temperature is now minus in double digits?

She finally got it!

The road to Glennallen can be windy and treacherous through the mountains. Bunny was panting non-stop so I eased barely off the narrow road to give her a bowl of water thinking she was thirsty. We continued on and her panting increased along with non-stop pacing in the back seat. The light bulb finally illuminated in my brain like a slap in the face.  OMG,  she is the one! I frantically found a small space on a steep, curvy turn to pull off the road just in time for the eruption that occurred once she hit the ground. So desperate to squat she immediately assumed the position, poor girl. She was so relieved and so was I that I finally ‘got’ it before the shit hit the seat, literally! An ominous start to the adventure south as we pull into our Tok motel. The temperature read -12 at 7:30 PM. 

Stay tuned as the journey takes us further down the desolate Alaska Highway. . .

Another Trip South

Am I suffering from writer’s block? I left Alaska over a month ago and have yet to write a blog. Another trip south and lots of diarrhea—the dogs, not me. What’s to say about that other than it’s a shitty deal? And, it made for a long, exasperating 8 days to Phoenix. Not to mention the ice and snow that followed us until we got there. So much for inspiration but then again, maybe this is what writer’s block truly is; no desire to put words on paper. After making excuses, this is an attempt to do just that.

Our last jaunt south was with 6 dogs, 3 have crossed over the Rainbow Bridge since 2012 and we have 2 new ones. So, if you do the math you know this trip includes 5 dogs, all cocker spaniels. Why does it seem so much harder than the previous trips south? Maybe because the players are different. Or perhaps this player has a knee that has yet to feel better after surgery. Being jerked around on leashes has been difficult at best especially when I slipped on the ice in my Birkenstocks, landing so hard on my ass that my teeth rattled. There is a point of no return when you are out of control moving toward the earth. In a split second you can recover and right yourself, but if that passes you are on your way down and there is nothing that can be done. Once I realized that’s where I was I just let it rip, didn’t even try to stop, thinking I had enough padding back there to see me through. My tailbone ached for over a week, and even now,  if I sit a particular way I am once again reminded of Bette Birk walking on the ice in her sandals, and the scary point of no return. It was a blessing to do nothing but drive while my butt slowly healed.

Along with driving 12-hours a day, I stopped multiple times for potty breaks (particularly with diarrhea being passed between the troops). One day in particular on the Alaska highway, we had 3 accidents in the back seat where there was absolutely no place to pull over, and the bomb could not be contained. This may be way TMI, sorry. Much farther south in Idaho, I was forced to pull off the freeway in a snowstorm landing us in a wide open field just in time to get out of the car for yet another blowout. Once it was over I needed to scrape snow off the windows to find the freeway. The wind was howling. Somehow, we managed and survived the shitstorms with humor. We exhausted the diarrhea and probiotic pills that we left Alaska with and bought yogurt until we could order more once we arrived at destination #1, Phoenix.

And then lastly, to find a hotel that would take us. Sometimes I neglected to even mention the dogs, fearing a rejection and being so spent that was not an option. I would have been reduced to a blubbering idiot had that been the case. Fortunately most hotels were okay with a pet; we never specified the number 5, just in case. Getting unloaded and into our room quietly was an ordeal followed by the feeding frenzy and another walk. At some point, can’t remember the city, we checked into a Motel 6 (always dog friendly) only to find we had to walk past the front desk, there was no outside entrance. And, the only place to walk the dogs was on concrete near the four-lane highway. Never mind the smokers milling around the front door, and the sirens. The windows were barred, DUH. That was our first clue this might not be the best neighborhood to spend the night. We got our money back and reluctantly moved on—to a much nicer Motel 6 on the other side of the tracks.

The dogs slept most of the time, day after day—such good travelers. The downside being, when we stopped at night they were ready for some action and I was ready to relax; I needed to RELAX!  By the time we were unloaded, fed and walked, I found myself collapsing into bed without dinner. It was just too much trouble. I survived many days with a protein cookie provided by one of my gracious clients, chips and a soda. I did manage to take a few bubble baths to soothe my aching ass. No booze on the marathon drive, I didn’t want to relax that much for fear of not wanting to move forward. We were up and at it by 7:15 each morning. 

More details to follow. . .