Yesterday and the day before took the wind out of our sails, meaning really tired us out. Add to this, last night there was an intense thunder and lightening storm that began around 1 a.m. and lasted some time. It did not also hail, like it did in Fort Collins, but it was just as intense. I had pitched the tent under some live and healthy trees, so we were sheltered from the storm. The horses were highlined in the open, which caused me some consternation. I got up as soon as the storm was at the distance. They were calm, although I suspect that their heart rates were high.

After, Pete and I lay awake for some time, talking. I had some time ago decided not to talk about anything serious when in bed. I think we talked some about the Lander

Cutoff Trail, and how it should be restored and made continuous, so that hikers and horseback riders might enjoy it.

We arose at 7 a.m.; the sun came up over the edge of the canyon that we were camped in shortly thereafter. I hobbled the horses and did yoga and Tai chi while they grazed. Pete sewed up one of Raudi’s boots – the gaiter had fallen apart. Grr, grr, grr. He used whipping thread and made it serviceable. I told him that he was missing his calling – he should be a surgeon, although, I added, all his patients would end up looking like Frankenstein.

We agreed upon making it a short riding day. Together, we consulted the map and decided to go uproad, 3-4 miles to a place that on the map was labelled Ski Hut. I rode Tyra and ponied Hrimmi. Pete rode Raudi and ponied Ryder. Tyra was not at all her usual self, I think for a variety of reasons. First of all, it was hot. Too late, I should have braided her mane. Secondly, the deer flies quickly found her, and repeatedly zoned in for a mid-morning snack. Being on edge may have been why she chose to repeatedly snake her head around and snap at Hrimmi. The one thing the two agreed upon was that their time would be better spent grazing by the side of the road.

I finally got off and walked both horses, which was for the most part far easier than riding. For the most part. I was wearing my vest and Camelback so I was unable to dissipate heat.

It was a long three miles to Poker Hollow, an area that is inhabited by sheep and sheep herders in the late summer and fall. Nice area, with a horse camp off to the side.

We passed and then returned and talked with two guys who’d we’d met in passing, on the way to our campsite. They’d been hired to shoot the area coyotes, which prey on the sheep. They were hanging out by their horse trailer – a rangy flea bitten gray horse was tied to it. They’d gotten it three days before – it had been standing in a field for years. DJ, named after the brand on his side, was badly in need of good care. He was thin, his coat was dull, rope burns on his ankles, and overgrown hooves. He also had welts in his mouth area, where the bit goes. My heart went out to him. I did some body work on him and he was most appreciative.

It occurred to me that the two young cowboys would do good by this horse, but he needed better than good. I told Pete that if we had a four horse trailer we’d take him home with us. Pete, who has heard this several times on this trip, just rolled his eyes.

Next: 193. 7/15/19: Déjà vu All over Again