On these X-Canada trips, meeting like-minded horsewomen (and, sure, horsemen, but truth to tell, it’s almost always women) is one of the best parts of the journey. Despite the fact that, given the option, the company I choose to keep is generally my own, I nevertheless delight in talking to women who share a similar feeling for the horses they ride and train and care for – and, who, ultimately, share a similar feeling about how life ought to be lived. Anna Maria in Oliver, Pam in Cranbrook, Vanessa in Taber, Dawn in Pilot Butte – these are ladies I first met sans their menfolk, and whom, after whatever initial fortuitous meeting put them in my path, I make a point of seeing again and again and again.
Last fall, on my freezing-cold October trip west, I met buddies Kristen and Sandra when they turned up as the only other campers at the closed/not-closed/pretty-much-closed equestrian campground in Spruce Woods, Manitoba. Across the campfire, beer in hand, we talked long into the night about All Things Horse. Kristen mentioned that she was thinking of offering layovers at her farm just north of the Trans Canada, and, on this 2023 trip west, I messaged her about maybe stopping by her place for a night. The timing just barely worked out – she and her man were on the verge of departing for team penning Nationals in Calgary – but it did work. And so it was that I rolled in to her farm on a sunny, 20C October afternoon.
You know someone is an exceptionally attentive host when they remember you saying, one year prior, that camping isn’t camping without a campfire, and they therefore make sure to have a fire ring set up where you’ll park your rig, as well as making sure a friend delivers two bundles of firewood. (Who does that? Kristen does that.)
The timing of my stay not only worked with Kristen’s imminent departure for Calgary, but also coincided with the one day she had been able to make herself available to go trail riding with her friends. Danielle (She Who Bears Firewood) and Emily arrived shortly after I got Pai settled in her enormous pasture, and soon enough we four were heading off onto the trails that are adjacent to Kristen’s farm.
The trails go on and on and on. Our late afternoon ride had us out for just a couple of hours until the sun was setting, but the options for longer loops looked limitless.
Immediately after I unsaddled her, Pai, who had been 100% her usual Queen of the World self on the trails, began to show signs of mild colic. I’d had two horses meet their maker via catastrophic colics, and so I tend to be hyper-vigilant about the possibility of seemingly innocuous signs going very, very bad. I whipped out my stethoscope and morphed into doctor mode. Pai’s physical exam showed little untoward other than very quiet gut sounds, so I elected to just watch her and see how things played out. She lay in the grass by my campfire as Kristen and Danielle and I chatted, I with only half an ear on the conversation. Forty-five minutes later, Pai pulled herself up, and started chowing down on the lawn grass with enthusiasm. Her previously rejected dinner was now delicious, and all was well in horseland.
Phew. The binders of intel I’ve been gathering since 2012, data accrued from planning previous trips and scrawling down details gleaned from the road, do include options for emergency vet care (e.g. who can I call who might do colic surgery in BF Nowhere SK? Or in the equestrian wastelands of Northern Ontario?), but when it comes down to it, I would clearly way prefer to flick through those pages looking for best gas prices, great lunch stops, or alternative accommodation than to be figuring out who I can call at midnight who might be (a) willing and (b) able to keep my horse alive in a medical crisis.
So: phew.
A campfire is a hard place to pull away from, and so Kristen and I spent another couple of hours jawing by its light. I think it was 10 o’clock before I threw a can of baked beans into a pot and cooked (using the term “cooked” loosely) myself something to eat before hitting the hay.
Plans were made over breakfast to meet up again next fall for a longer stay, with some riding in the nearby Sandilands Provincial Forest. Then, under darkening stormy skies, I loaded up my pony, setting out for a couple of nights camping at Souris Bend Wildlife Management Area.
una chica y su caballo 
Again – Delightful,interesting and magnetic – thank you 💗
Each time I see one of your posts appear in my inbox I smile. I don’t read it right away. I wait…seeing it sitting there in my inbox. It reminds me of how I view Christmas presents. They can be under the tree for ages. I’ve never picked them up, shook them or tried to figure out what might be tucked inside. The anticipation of opening them is treasure for me. That’s how I think if your posts. I know I am in for an amazing treat so I pick a time when nothing else will take me away from the few minutes of immersed reading as I “join” you in the telling of your adventures. You truly have a gift. I know I will always have a chuckle and sometimes I end up howling in laughter. Sometimes I become contemplative and soak in every word as you describe the beauty of this country. Your photos are breathtaking. Thank you for each and every entry. Safe Travels always.
Well Anna-Maria, I have to say that when I see a notification that there’s a comment from you, I know my self-esteem is about to get a boost! Thank you for your always kind words, and I’m so very glad you enjoy the read! Happy trails!