crossed the Rio Grande

In Bernardo tonight, low signal. (Bernardo isn't really a town - it's a place on the map where Hwy 60 and I-25 meet.) Vance M. stopped his truck this morning to ask where I was travelling to? Then offered to put us up about another 12 miles on, across the river and under the interstate, down a dirt road to his place with "lots of empty pens."

Crossing the Rio Grande was another one of those moments that had way more impact than I expected. The river under the bridge was running high from recent floods. Drivers passed us just before, giving us emphatic thumbs-up out their windows. Then there seemed to be a window of stillness as we crossed. No traffic, no sound but rushing water and the staccato beat of hooves on concrete. Walter was all business: trotting briskly with head up, ears forward.

And then it was done. We had reached the other side.

I tied Walter to a fence and tossed my canvas bucket over the rail, letting it fill and hauling it back up by the parachute string I have attached. My mule drank from the waters of the Rio Grande.

Tonight, guests of Vance and Alice M. at their breeding farm. Walter in pen, me out of the wind in horse trailer. Don't know if riding out tomorrow or waiting on possible haul. Didn't pass any N/S roads I could see besides I-25 on the way in. Don't see any side roads on the map either. Hmmm.

Walter wondering: "How will we get to Arizona?"

Sunset over Bernardo