We packed up and followed Steve into town. He took the railroad tracks, and we took the trail. We tied up the horses to a rail next to Mango’s Restaurant. Pete left with Steve in search of breakfast burritos, and I stayed with the horses. Kids appeared, and for the next hour they petted and fed our chowhounds copious amounts of dandelion greens and grass.
A dirt biker pulled up next to the horses and chastised one of the kids for tipping over his machine. I then chastised him for startling the horses.
We rode through town after eating our breakfast burritos, purchased at the nearby Green Bridge Inn. Our afternoon trek took us along the Eagle River, which flows into the Colorado River. On our left was fast-moving water, and on our right massive outcroppings of red rock. We finally came to a much-welcomed stretch of pea gravel. We saw several mine shafts, and a mine that had been built into the hill. We had to pick our way through rock scree and railroad debris. The horses were extra careful. One thing that can be said for Icelandic horses—they have a great deal of common sense.
We ate lunch in a meadow by the railroad tracks and listened to nearby shooting range activity. My heart was in my throat as we later rode by this facility. Neither the dog nor the horses