Home again, home again, jiggety job. Arrived back here at 10:30 p.m. The religious folk left a card on our gate, it read, “Are you prepared to die?” I was too tired to care, but the irony didn’t escape me. Here we are, back home, perhaps done with our earthy mission. Now, if I was a believer, there would be hell to pay.

We were away 17 days. We returned to a yard full of lush grass, all different types. I immediately let the horses out of the trailer. They’d been in there all day long. No trail ride today. I unloaded them and let them off their lead ropes. They ran to the far side of driveway, grabbed grass, raced around some, then grabbed more grass. Hrimmi and Raudi rolled in the gravel pile next to the gate, and Raudi walked into the enclosure, checked it out, then walked back outside and resumed grazing.

It occurred to me as I was watching the horses that this wasn’t the best of trips for them. They spent all but one night tied to the trailer. And they had to carry our sorry asses all over hell and creation.

Eggs for breakfast

The three mares had one night in a corral; this was at the Heart Bar Ranch outside of Whitehorse. But they had no shelter to retreat into when it began raining, and it rained hard.

Yes, it was a long trip for them. And it was a long day. We broke camp early. The Walker Creek Campground was five-star. There was plenty of space for us and quiet. No RV generators disturbed the silence at 5 a.m. Last night, it did rain hard and for a long time. The Mountain Hardwear Room with a View tent has seen better days. I won the money to pay for it in 1998. I was teaching at Slippery Rock College in Slippery Rock, PA at the time. It was the St. Patrick’s Day lottery.

We did get in a short trail ride. We saddled up at the 40-mile Wayside, 4 Mile Lake. I didn’t know if it was four miles to the lake or the lake was four miles. We trotted down a mostly gravel trail. We came to the lake with the obligatory dock and canoe moored to it, then went left, and took a trail that ended at an outfitter’s camp with several cabins.

On the return trip to the main trail, we saw a moose in the water swimming toward the far side of the lake.

It was a long, bumpy ride to Glennallen. I didn’t enjoy it because I sensed that the horses weren’t enjoying it. Sad to say, I wasn’t the most accommodating and conversational passenger.

The plan (mine) was to camp at the Little Nelchina Campground – it’s never full, seems rather abandoned and, yep, the only other full campsite contained this very, very large yellow tank-like machine. It had to be a military vehicle.

We parked the truck and trailer, and I got out as soon as Pete was done parking. I began swatting as I was immediately attacked by mosquitoes. I says to Pete, I says, there is no way we are camping here. It went unsaid but our only alternative was to head home, which is what we did.

Back to the horses. They never made a wrong move. There were never any misunderstandings. They handled traveling really well.

I hope to ride in the upcoming CTR. This will be my next adventure.

Next: 168. 6/22/24: Summertime