I have learned that to be with those I like is enough. – Walt Whitman
I arrived home from this year’s road trip at the end of July, over a month ago. I packed up my bags and then, less than 72 hours later, flew to PEI, where I’ve since been hanging at the cottage, riding trail on borrowed horses, and taking my own sweet time to write about the last leg of my journey. The final few days of Road Trip 2019 sparked many thoughts about the things I value most about these voyages.
My first road-trip-with-equine was a solo trip from Vancouver Island to Prince Edward Island in 2012. That cross-continent trek was meant to be no more than a means to get my horse to where I myself was going to be all summer: at the cottage on PEI. As the countdown to launch approached, I pretty much wanted to barf as I contemplated what seemed certain to be a short path to highway doom. In my nausea-inducing angst, I’d mapped out a route detailed with intended stops, alternate stops, and the locations of clinics capable of emergency colic surgery. I had strategies for roadside assistance, not to mention two separate cell phones that used two separate providers in order to ensure the best possible mobile and coverage. I had exactly one, and only one, fun thing planned: a trail ride in Canmore with Wendy Bush. The rest of the drive was riveted on Just Getting There.
During my I-didn’t-die-in-the-snow-on-the-Coquihalla phone call from camp that first evening to my friend Deb, a random comment of hers (“So, you going for a trail ride tonight?”) made something snap down, with a little metallic click, into place in my head. In a nanosecond, the trip morphed into a different animal: my focus changed from the destination to the journey, and I was suddenly hooked on the idea of riding my horse on trails all over Canada. As soon as I could, in 2015, I set off on loosely-planned trips where my goal was simply to ride in the prairies and the mountains, and repeated that plan in 2016, hitting ten to a dozen different trail systems on each of those 5-7 week tours.
Some of the places Pai and I have ridden over the years…
By the time I set off on my 2018 trip to PEI, my trip priorities had changed. Despite my excited jumping up and down and hand-clapping over exploring unfamiliar places like Spruce Woods in Manitoba or the Seven Half Diamond Ranch out of Merritt, the thing that delighted me most on that trip was re-connecting with the horse people I’d met along the way. Making and maintaining lasting friendships had become an unexpected highlight of hitting the road with my horse.
– With Céline in Quebec; Vicki and Ann in Alberta; with Susie in Ontario; Dale in New Brunswick.
A week or two before leaving on this year’s trip, I’d phoned Pam Cowtan, who didn’t know me from a hole in the ground, to see if she’d agree to let me join her girl-posse on their trip to Writing on Stone. She gave me a green light, and I was delighted to get to know her group of wonderful friends at WOS. When the gals started vaunting the great riding they have on their home turf – pack trips to The Castle, riding in to Dewar Falls, trails up north in Cadomin – and inviting me to come visit someday and let them show me around, I warned them they’d have to beat me off with a stick.
I got my opportunity sooner than expected. As my impromptu trip to Ya Ha Tinda with Pam and her excellent friend Barb Fisher began to wind down, Barb offered me the option of laying over at her place in Cranbrook. I took her up on it. We convoyed out of Ya Ha Tinda, emerging all squint-eyed and feral from the wilderness for lunch in Sundre, rejoining the land of cell service and people who didn’t smell like horse sweat or have five days’ worth of dirt under their fingernails. When I phoned Mr Andrews from the road, he gave me the felicitous news that we weren’t booked to fly to PEI on the 25th, but rather the 26th. My serendipitous miscalculation would allow me one riding day more than I’d budgeted. (‘Cause hey, why do things the easy way when you can do them the hard way? Forty-eight hours is ample time for a turn-around time between a five-week road trip and a month-or-more trip to the East Coast. Three days would be extravagant.) Barb graciously agreed to let me bum a room for my horse and my dog and me for not just one night but two, and so riding in Cranbrook on the middle day became a go.
When we arrived at Barb’s, Pai got settled in a roomy paddock with an amazing view of The Steeples, wine was poured, and I cooked up a Niçoise salad for Barb and her boarder Leanne.
Pai has a sweet view from her paddock at Barb’s.
After the ghastly arctic temperatures at Ya Ha Tinda , a leisurely morning sipping coffee outside in luxurious sunshine felt downright alien. I finally peeled myself off the porch, loaded Pai, and headed off to Pam’s place on the other side of the river, at the foot of Bull Mountain. We set off on a sustained uphill climb strewn with daisies and Indian paintbrush, with panoramic views of the valley below, much of which is forest dedicated to non-motorized use. Our lunch spot overlooked two waterfalls spilling down the mountain.
On the way back down, we sidetracked to an outfitter’s cabin that is set in what must be the most picturesque meadow in the world, a lush grassy clearing ringed by poplars and with a view of the mountain beyond.
Lunch spot overlooking the mountain. – Photo: Pam Cowtan.
Pam at the prettiest meadow in the world.
We reunited at Barb’s place for dinner on the deck and a cozy fire. Cranbrook was a perfect combo of exploring new trail and exploring new friendships.
Pam, Barb and Leanne.
Pai and Spy and I set out the next morning towards Oliver, where, six hours later, we would arrive at Hideaway Horse Camp, which, now in my fourth year of staying over, feels like home. The horse, the dog and I were all treated like family. Anna-Maria invited me over to the house for dessert, where we caught up on each other’s goings-on over the past year – not least of which is Anna-Maria’s new passion for beading jewelry. She was sporting one of her own gorgeous ankle bracelets, and let me have a peek at her work space and all the pretty bits and pieces she uses to create her pieces.
I was eager to check out the new trails Anna-Maria had mapped, and so I was in the saddle by 7:15 for a four-hour ride. I didn’t get lost. (That sentence should be in bold and caps, with maybe four exclamation marks to finish it off: I DIDN’T GET LOST!!! I have a terrific talent for taking the wrong path, and a couple of years ago ended up waaaaaay off piste, well off the map, though the ride was nonetheless fantastic). As we wound our way through pine forest, our wildlife viewing included a lone stallion who eyed us up and followed us for a short ways, and an elk cow we startled on our way home.
Though I left Hideaway in good time, a detour to the excellent Vanessa Vineyard near Keremeos was the kiss of death for catching the ferry for which I had a reservation: missed it by something like three minutes. Rats!
The buy-at-the-vineyard-only case of wine was worth missing a ferry for…
Still, we got home before dark, when it was light enough to watch Pai canter off into the dusk with her giant OTTB buddy who was delighted to be reunited with his lady. Spy was likewise delighted to be reunited with Mr Andrews.
For horses and dogs, it’s also enough.
una chica y su caballo 