Ahh dear, the premature heat wave! But there was some good news on this morning's ride. For one thing, the discomfort made the experience less touristy and more authentic. Also I actually encountered a well-designed gate on some BLM land. Yes, I know that it sounds silly for a grown man to get excited about such things -- but I do!
This isn't so silly when you consider how I struggle with these gates from time to time. And how you go away with torn clothes.
And can you believe I was admiring something as simple as a lone, yellow flower that was different than the yellow/poppies you expect to see at this time of year:
My goodness, I am becoming too easy to please! But, back to the gate issue. I rode down a small hill, and not too fast, because I was feeling hot and thirsty and a little punch-drunk. It was only the last few feet that I realized that this gate was semi-invisible:
I managed to get stopped, but just barely.
This was the week for slipping into cowboy fantasies. Even something like finding an old horse hitching post was fun: I used it for tying up my doggie, downtown.
She had a good week for being a great little cow-dog. Near one camp, she found cow ribs as big as herself:
We ran into our "pet" cowboy a second time. The first time, he went by on an ATV. A few days later, he came by on a large, beautiful horse. He said just a word or two, and shook my hand from his high perch on the horse. It was such a fine encounter -- he was as laconic as Gary Cooper, John Wayne, or Eastwood. Then, without any more chit-chit, he rode off, while chasing a half-dozen cows.
What a nice memory this simple encounter will leave in my mind. Recall an encounter I once had in a state that no longer is very western, Colorado:
"A man, a horse, and a dog. It just doesn't get any better than that, and I told them so.
The music of Victor Young came to mind, and the images of the opening of the classic 1953 movie, Shane. Nostalgia might seem like a result of old age; but strictly speaking, nostalgia results from a consciousness of loss. Of course the more years you have lived, the more you come to appreciate what has been lost.
This is especially poignant in a state like Colorado. No longer a western state in any sense of the word, other than scenery, the state has become expensive and crowded.
But let's not think about any of that. Let's just look at the pretty horses and remember:
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