Mice tore into the sack and had a mouse feast. Oh oh. I ended up putting the remains of the sack in three four-gallon buckets.
But this isn’t what this dispatch was to be about. This dispatch was to be about the ride that followed. It went well. The horses behaved themselves and seemed to like Skjoni, who was entranced with Raudi. I have this feeling that Icelandic horses know the difference between “their kind” and “other kinds” of horses.
The trails were less slippery than usual; however, they are really rutted. Earlier in the day I spoke (nicely) to an ATver and said that I wished that ATVers would stay off the muddy trails. He said he wasn’t the problem – he went slow. Then he added that my dogs tear up the trails. After, I found myself wondering, was he ignorant or in denial?
Really, nothing is going to change around here. We’re just going to have to continue to co-exist with the ATV driving, gun-toting fools. Or, we’ll have to find someplace to live where the trails have not been torn to shreds.
Anyhow, Skjoni: My friend Pam Nolfe, who lives in Washington state, was instrumental in his move to Alaska. And as it’s turned out, he’s a keeper. He’s like Tinni, the sort of horse who takes care of his rider. Perfect for a 10 year old.
As I rode, I got to thinking – I’m was the reason why five Icelandic horses were out on the trail. My passion for these fine horses just spilled over into others’ lives.
Next: 208: 10/21/13: Stardust Memories