This may have begun twenty some years ago when I first heard of Tevis — when my first horse Romero and I would set out alone and spend hours and hours climbing the Catalina Mountains. Or it may have really begun with the carousel horses sixty years ago.
Now it's time to stop letting life get in the way of living.
Thinking of hitting the road with just truck and trailer, horse and dog is exciting—and scary. I've worked so hard to get here — but now I know here isn't where I wanted to go after all. So I'm setting out to find where I really do want to be — it may be nowhere, it may be everywhere.
The planning is the difficult part — which, if any, of my horses can be a successful traveller. Could I bear to be without Stetson being my guard dog — the 60 pound curly mop who thinks he's a lab? The house and the "stuff" is easy — a few thing's I'll put away safely, a few special things to take with me. Just that there's a lot of it — more than one yard sale for sure.
Some house money to go towards a trailer with a real shower and a safe, reliable truck. New homes for the horses that don't go with me. Getting phone-less and paperless, going mobile.
I was pleasantly surprised to find out how many women my age are doing something similar — giving up the drudgery of "security" to become vagabonds. There's a whole world of full time RVers out there — and a full schedule of places to go and things to do. Some are doing it comfortably on substantial pensions and insurance payments, some on a shoestring — "work kamping" to make ends meet. I'll be somewhere in between, with the responsibility of providing for my animals.
My head is swimming with plans. I may never be an endurance rider but I can go to the rides to volunteer or crew and even ride parts of some of the trails on my own horse. But my horse may surprise me. We'll see. I've been putting rides on my calendar — Owyhee, Old Dominion (and I could also visit my Virginia friends and family), Tevis 2007, check out the California rides and see Ian.
I want to look back in ten or twenty years and not regret that I didn't do this.
