first steps

Many's the time it's been pointed out to me that reading about it and doing it are two entirely different things. Now that I'm in the final weeks of preparation, I am finding this to be so true.

The packs look simple in the photos. But going to tie them on, the holes for strings are different from my day packs, which means a different knot, which I have yet to learn, so I attach them with my lamest excuse for tying and hope they stay. Then attaching the big poofy sleeping bag, I have to smush it down to stretch the ties over it; Butch is unaccustomed to the pressure and his hips give way momentarily, throws me off balance, I fall on my butt and, flustered, he steps on my foot. Ow.

So, he's finally tacked up. I go to climb on... How do I swing my leg over that !#*@! sleeping bag?!? I manage it, only to find... Butch's headstall has slipped down his neck because I trimmed his mane, and I can barely reach over the front packs to push it back up.

My endlessly patient mule. I could hear him sigh.

I did make a magical discovery. Butch is either the world's smartest, sanest mule, or he was hobble-trained in his raw youth to not just front hobbles, but 3-legged hobbles also! After today's ride I turned him out in the round pen with his grain, attached the 3-ways, sat back and waited for the kicking to commence. And waited. And waited. Butch finished his grain, felt the pull, shuffled a few inches and stood calmly, staring at me. After a while he reached out in my direction with his nose. No fuss. No impatience. No moving. Then he got bored, picked up the empty pan with his teeth and started playing with it.

What a good, good, good mule. How lucky am I!

Butch at the racetrack

Lots of practice for the Butchinator and myself today. First, loaded all the new saddlebags.

I am a bit annoyed with myself for not finding a clever and cheap alternative to buying this expensive saddlebag set. But some things are best not to skimp on, especially when one has no experience whatsoever; the less likely gear is to fall apart, the better. The set is hornbags, saddlebags, detachable cantlebag, all waterproof with zippers, and insulated removeable foam inserts in all but the cantlebag. I got truly ugly glow-in-the-dark hunter's orange because I want to be visible from a mile away when I'm out on the road.

Also got a scale. I loaded the bags to be perfectly evenly balanced, with pillows, rolled up shirts and water bottles. The cantlebag held my tent (4 lbs.).

My ignorance immediately showed itself. I had no clue how to safely tie on the saddlebags, what kind of knot to use, where the long straps go. I adjusted several times out on the trail because the bags, though the same weight, kept listing to the right. Because the saddle lists a bit to the right. It's the way I ride, my slightly twisted pelvis. Poor Butch... I do my best to compensate, it's always been a problem. Maybe I can find a packer to show me how to tie and keep the packs straight.

The hornbags are too short for my saddle's design. I'll need to lengthen them with nylon straps or something (old seatbelts?).

Other than that, the packs seemed fine. Butch carried them well, walking, trotting, up and down inclines, leaping over a ditch or two. He kept stopping until I removed the crupper, which was rubbing him underneath the bags. Then he stepped out fine (other than slow pokey barn-sour for the first two miles).

Boy, did that orange ever get attention! I've never heard so many comments from passers-by.

About 3 miles on I ran into another rider. He had just come from the racetrack we passed, and when I said how cool was that, said if I wanted to go watch he'd go back with me. So we went up the ramp out of the riverbed and into the parking lot of the Rillito Racetrack. Great training for Butchmule! Big crowd, tons of families milling around and vehicles driving through the crowded lanes, blaring radios, high-strung sweaty horses on hot walkers in the paddock. He acted like he'd been around it all his life. Then we sat on our steeds at the track fence, literally just on the other side of it, when the field came thundering by a few feet away. Butch perked his ears, threw his head up with an utterly surprised expression and backpedaled a few steps. That was all! I was so proud of him. Last race of the day - new friend and I parted ways and went home.

Tonight, called Amy - she of the mustang, SweetPea - and she happily agreed to join me on a 3-day 2-night dry run. Might be one other person along also. Next weekend or the one after.

status update

Had a lovely ride on Butch today. About 7 miles, in the riverbed and along the city path above. First time in months he has saddled up without any protest.

And first time in months I've had a comfortable seat as well. What a difference! I loaded the large pommel packbags over the horn. They're ugly fluorescent orange, spot em a mile away, exactly what I wanted. Butch didn't bat an eye. Tomorrow we'll try the matching large rear saddlebags.

I also brought along hobbles, and hobbled Butch when I got off to let him graze. Somebody taught him well! He doesn't move with them on; stands still and stretches his neck out to reach the far grass. I'll need to teach him it's ok to move a little and graze with 3-leg hobbles on, but I like that he knows to freeze with the doubles, and don't want him to un-learn that.

Out riding relaxed through a city wash in the midafternoon sun, with big orange saddlebags hanging from the horn in front of me, kids yelling "Hey! It's a donkey!" from a distance, it was easy to imagine I was in some other town, mid-route. Heading for the evening's camping spot. A stable, a ranchette, somebody's back yard, a fire station... not thinking about the low-30s temps we're still having at night and how I lost a stake for my tent the second night I used it... (true haha)

Back home, put Butchmule up for the night and fed him his pellets & psyllium in a feedbag, the new nightly ritual. When I get the stake setup, I might start feeding him his hay on the ground while staked. We'll see.

Current status:

Rental and storage arrangement with landlady - check.
Work contracts amiably suspended until return - check.
Home for cat while I'm gone - check.
Saddle and pad rebuilt to fit - check.
--(Courtesy of Jack, saddlemaker here in AZ. What a guy!)
Basic hobble training - check.
--(Turns out Butch had worn them before.)
Hobble training to 3-way hobbles and picket - TK.

---(TK=editor's shorthand for "to come")
Mule packing gear - check.
Tent - check.
Good, light sleeping bag - TK.
All the other stuff to pack - getting there.
Butch's hooves repaired, shod - check.
Easyboots - TK.
Butch road safe - pretty much, tuning up, riding lots around traffic.
Real mule camping dry run - TK.

Route - check. Um, well - TK. Nope, original route - check. Uh, gas price up, maybe rethink that. Okay, let's study the map again...
Contact fairgrounds etc along route to prearrange places to camp - Oh, sure! LOL

Naive enthusiasm - check
Courage - TK

Sense of wonderment and slight disbelief - constant.

Saddle success!

It fits!!!

Trailered Butch up to Jack's on Sunday, to redo the saddle to fit us both. What a master saddlemaker! And a grand host... put me up for 2 nights, and let Butch have the run of the place. Wish I had pics of Butch chasing his dog, Bo. (they were playing.) At least got pics of mule in the snow our 3rd day there...

I camped out in tent the 1st night, for practice. Glad it wasn't the 2nd, below-freezing night.

Turns out the saddle tree does fit Butch, as well as any tree can. He has a normal mule dip behind the left shoulder, and a deep dip behind the right shoulder, caused not by poor saddles but by poor trimming of his out-turned right foot. (A tree-maker and farrier came by and talked with me about the shoulder and Butch's feet, how to trim them to hold up on the ride.) He will always need some padding. So the shimmed pad I just bought was a good deal. Jack made custom-shaped felt shims to replace the ones that came with the pad. He also had me bevel the edges of the felt pad, something he said should always be done.

Next we strapped the fenders so they rest farther forward. The slit in the tree slants back at an angle and had been causing them to slide. That made a big difference (The straps were redone to attach slightly differently after this pic was taken):

We made front jockey covers to cover the straps:

Then Jack peeled back the seat to expose the ground seat. He shaved down some of the padding that was in the center,

and built up the front with felt layers, covered lastly with buffalo leather. He had me ride Butch for nearly an hour with the felt inserts, re-trimmed, then had me get up and down off the the saddle about a dozen times, fine-tuning, before glueing down the felt.

WOW what a difference! Now not only does it fit Butch, but it fits me like a glove and is so comfortable. And holds me in the way a beartrap style should, as I discovered when we were on our test ride. Monday was cold and gray, pre-snowstorm with 40-mph sustained winds, and we were riding alone in an unfamiliar place. A bevy of quail exploded under Butch's belly. He did a big, leaping spook and there was no air between me and that saddle. I felt very secure. Mission accomplished!

Can't believe I forgot to take a photo of the finished saddle. I'll try to remember to take one in the next day or so. It looks very nice, thanks to Jack, as he did most of the work on this repair.

He also adjusted Butch's bit and crupper, and is going to finish a britchen. Not to mention giving me a thousand tips about everything from saddle care to pack lengths to quick non-cooking breakfasts on the trail. I learned so much.

Still not enough, though. I'm pushing the launch up to end of March. And I'm letting go of being at any particular place on a particular date. I'll do my best to keep to a route for the reasons mentioned earlier, but I don't want any deadlines to meet. I'll be... hmmm, the word I'm looking for is... "meandering." Moseying along. And as for the route and length, they won't be set in stone either. If I veer off the route to visit friends or see a different place, that's fine. I might shorten or lengthen the ride. That's okay too. I might get to Missouri and decide to keep on going to New York. Or I might only make it a hundred miles and decide that's enough... it'll still be an experience and an accomplishment.

My nieghbor left a message, UPS delivered the package today. Saddlebags, 3-way hobbles, collapsible bucket, etc. Time for more training...

enablers

This was the plan: ride with friends, tie Butch up someway and sleep in tent, ride with friends next day. Mule camping practice.

The 1st "ride with friends" went great. Met online friends Lois & John in person for the first time; met up with friends of online friends, Annie and Grady, again; met up with other friends of Annie and Grady again. We all had a nice ride on a sunny afternoon.

Then the questions: So where you gonna tie your mule? Where you gonna sleep? What? In a tent? In a tent in Butch's trailer?!? Do you know how cold it's suppposed to get tonight???

Lois: "Grady says you can stay at his place. You should take him up on it."

Grady: "There's room in my [travel] trailer, you can sleep on the couch."

Annie: "Or I can make room in my trailer. Sleep somewhere there's a heater."

I stepped out of the chill wind into Grady's comfy setup and said with a laugh, yeah okay...

So much for my resolve to try my first genuine mule camping. I'm such a wuss when it comes to cold. And these friends are just too darned accommodating!

Then, where to put Butch? I wanted him nearby, within sight and sound. Grady lent me a highline and strung it up between Butch's trailer and a tree. Butch did great all night, no fussing or bawling, stood quiet and went to sleep.

So, mules put away, we all ate (Thanks Lois & John! Lamb, mmm!), and now it was time for some real enabling. Lois brought over her big saddle bags packed with all the gear she and John take on weeks-long packing trips. I brought in old boxes of camping stuff I haven't used in years. Annie came and brought a pair of half-chaps, and her decades of backcountry packing expertise. Grady supplied whisky and cake. We proceeded to go over the gear piece by piece; they all dished out bookloads worth of info and advice while I scrambled to take notes. Then once it was established that even with my newfound knowledge of the proper gear, priorities and precautions, the first week or so of the trip is guaranteed to be a comedy (in hindsight) of errors, talk shifted to route and travel plans.

By the time everyone trundled off to thier various bedtime accommodations, the route had been settled. I'll haul Butch to Lois and John's place in far west Texas and launch the ride from there. (Leave the rig.) Northeast through TX, swing above Dallas, over near Texarkana, then head north to Kansas City. Leave mid-March, likely arrive KC sometime around August. This way I skip the arid empty stretches of AZ and NM, and also I start in a part of the country I've never seen before. It's a safer, more populated route. More mulie friends in TX too! Lois (and John? Not sure) has said she'll ride with me for a few days. She and John helped another Long Rider through NM a couple years ago. They know what the needs and hazards are. They have offered to be an emergency backup in thier area.

(Since then I've looked at how close they are to Marfa, and think I'll launch the ride from there. From a small arts center to a major one, seems fitting. Besides, I want to see the "Marfa Lights"....)

Next morning dawned cold, windy and overcast. I put on the half chaps Annie gave me, grateful to have 'em. Went to saddle up Butch mule - and he lost his mind! The minute he saw that Abetta, he began whipping his butt around so fast I could barely stay out of the way. Eyes buggin out, head high, pulling back, and when I finally got close enough to try and toss it on him, he actually bucked! I was utterly dumbfounded. Never in all the time I've had him has he acted in such a manner. Not ever. I figured something about that saddle must be hurting him so bad I better just leave it, and I told the others (all saddled up and mounted now) that I was taking him home. Well, they talked me out of it. Said, no way can your wieght in that light little thing be hurting him enough to act up like that... he's just testing what he can get away with... so I finally got the saddle on him and cinched without me being kicked, got on (very embarrassed at holding up the whole ride) and Butch was fine the rest of the day. Go figure. In fact he was better than fine, he was a real trooper, as noted in the last post before this one.

But the next day, another challenge. Butch doesn't want to load. This is a new problem, I don;t know what's causing it. The last several times he's gotten more and more balky. Annie had to help me get him in. Sheesh. All these sudden behavior problems in the past month, I must be doing something wrong. Can't think what's different, except for the time he had off.

Anyway, back to friends - Thier help so far, everyone's help, has been invaluable, I just can't describe what this support means to me. Emotionally and practically speaking. Even just knowing people are interested enough to keep up with this blog, it gives me strength. I only hope I can "pass it on" to others someday... Thank you everyone!

snow on saguaros

Back last night from amazing 2 days riding with tough n wonderful mulie friends in the desert mountains near the border. It may be southern AZ but it's still February, and we got caught out in a blowing sleet/snowstorm about 6-7 miles from the remote outback RV camp.

Started out just windy & chilly, but shortly before reaching our lunch stop the sky darkened ominously and nearby hills began losing thier outline in an approaching whiteout.

As we came upon the high-country corrals and abandoned house that were to be our lunch stop, the wind picked up and somebody said "Hey, I feel rain." A minute or two later it was "Hey, it's sleet!" We all scrambled to tie our mules under trees and find a windbreak from the icy wetness pelting us. Then: "No, it's SNOW!" Sure enough, we were surrounded by the blowing white cloud we had seen floating over the mountains a half hour earlier. Biting wind and heavy, wet, spring snow.

We all huddled in the roofless shell of a house, ate lunch, joked about having to go out in the wind to find a place to crouch to answer nature's call, and generally stood around waiting hopefully for the storm to pass. It didn't. We realized there was nothing to be done but turn around and ride through it back home.

Everyone but me had the foresight to bring rain gear. They all donned slickers of various shapes and sizes. Luckily I was wearing an old down jacket, gloves and leather half-chaps on my lower legs that Annie (Bless you, girl!!) had just given me. So though my thighs got soaked and I was chilled to shivering, it really wasn't so bad. In fact, I enjoyed it. True! I live here, so I knew the storm would pass quickly and we were in no danger. Snow on the saguaros is a rare sight and incredibly beautiful. Once I could look up to see it, that is. We were riding directly into the wind. The flakes were covering my glasses so thick and fast that for the first hour or so, all I could do was pull my hat down low, stare at Butch's mane and hope the mule he was following was on the right path. One time I looked up, wiped my lenses and could see a line of 4 mule riders climbing a steep trail up the mountainside across from me, all of them hats down, covered in snow, hunched over in silence as thier steady mounts plowed into the swirling wind.

Sure enough, less than an hour from camp the sky cleared. Sun peeked out. Photo op!

By the time we got back it had all melted. Still cold, though. We were all very proud of our mules - not only did they do fabulous, going up and down those hills with stinging sleet and snow in thier faces - they all came back dry! Meaning, they are in good condition.

So that's my notes about the ride. The people I rode with deserve a whole blog entry of thier own, so I'll write about our visit next post. Too much to relay and too late at night now.

Happy trails, friends...

back to riding

Gaps in posts due to much activity, no time to write. Back in training, conditioning. Trailered Butch out to a remote RV park in the desert mountains to ride with new friends on Tuesday. He was great under saddle but no manners on the ground. Embarassing. New friend Grady gave me some training tips. All the same, I was so pleased with how Butchmule handled the trailering, new environment and strange equines.

Thursday worked him in the round pen... he was not happy, it got ugly. I had planned to hobble train him. Got out the hobbles, one-leg-up. He did really well. I think he might have worn them before. By the end he was hanging his head over the rails, nickering at me to come get him. Next day we had a good ride in the riverbed.

Yesterday, had arranged the day off to go out of town for leather show. Trip got cancelled, snowbird friends from CO had invited me on a big group ride about 40 miles from here, in an area of rolling grass hills on the old Empire Ranch. We rode about 5 hours. Butch was so much better behaved! I discovered only one hole in his training... he still has issues going downhill, especially around other equines. I think it might be partly his saddle. We were in the old Abetta. He got worse as the ride wore on, to the point of pitching a full-blown bucking fit at the bottom of a steep incline, which would make sense if the saddle were rubbing his withers more and more. I checked last night and today - thankfully, no sores or swelling.

Other than that, he handled himself so well it was commented on by several riders. I rode with this group a year ago. Butch was still very green and so was I. More than once yesterday, Butch was paid the compliment "He's like a whole different mule." We dealt with runaways galloping by, wading through a herd of cattle, having someone crash into us on an unruly out-of-control horse not once but twice (same horse!), splitting off from the main group and rejoining them without fuss, etc. Butch had his young moments and minor rodeos but for the most part was amazingly calm, trusting and steady. I am so proud of him! I am happy he has come such a long way.

adrenalin-laced plans

I am still wrestling with saddle fit, tired of writing about it so will report back when I either get it fixed or get another saddle.

In the meantime, beginning to feel a strange and heady mixture of pressure, excitement and fear as the days lengthen and my vague, untidy dream begins to crystalize into a real plan. I know this feeling well. It's a constant low-level adrenalin current that thrums beneath my breath every waking moment when I'm about to do something crazy, inevitable and terrifying. I felt it when I moved to New York City. When I left my NYC life for Tucson. I felt the undercurrent during my marriage engagement. While preparing for a performance piece on a NY subway. When I stuck out my thumb on a highway in France. When I bought a wagon gear and began shopping for a mule. Some of these adventures were wonderful, some not so much, some mixed. The adrenalin undercurrent does not predict outcome. It predicts another crack in the mirror of who I think I am, who I can become.

In an effort to be more "responsible" "practical" "realistic," I had scaled back my grandiose long-ride plan to a modest 2-month jaunt to NM, either a short loop or trailering back from Albuquerque. I would follow close to I-10 and up I-25, pretty much the route I've driven for decades. I know this short plan is doable and knew it would calm the concerns of loved ones. It showed I was mature and sensible, not straying too far from the safety net of home and work.

Only problem being, it totally deflated the dream. Drained all the passion from it. My grand adventure was now a little vacation. And a foolishly dangerous one, at that. Why take such great risks without a great need? I don't need a vacation. I need a journey. A journey to the center of this beautiful and yearning country with my mule. To observe, to listen, to record, to carry messages.

The geographical center of the US is, approximately, Kansas City.

That's still where I want to go.

And so I have begun mapping my route. I am using Google Maps. I've discovered the only route that seems to have towns spaced conveniently 20 miles or less apart is, roughly, the interstates that replaced Route 66. From Albuquerque that is I-40 to Oklahoma City, then I-44 E, then any one of a few state routes north. I'm hoping the countryside is more populated than it looks and I can take more back roads. But in the interests of letting people know where I'll be so they can ride with me, I'll list the cities on that path. The unknown is still how to get across the empty dry stretches of AZ and NM. (Water, water...) (Safe camping spots..) (Grazing...)

The other unknown is - how will Butch and I return to Tucson at journey's end?

At the moment, that is a matter of blind faith.

March 17 might be too soon a leave date. There is still much to be done, and I would like to wait until night temps are in the 60s. (30s-40s now.) Then again, May is too late to start out in the desert. So, sometime between mid-March and mid-April.

Just bought hobbles. Trailering Butch to the mountains for a ride tomorrow. Our first real overnight highlined campout, with friends, next week.