Today I lighten the literary load and lower the photographic standard.  I’m just going to tell you a story.  Plain and simple, in words and pictures.  A story about yesterday.

Going to the other side.

The other side… of the Rio Grande.

Soon of course we will be further.

The other side… of the equator.

But for now, I’m here awaiting winter.

And since it’s slow to come, we’re quick to head out and enjoy.

We saddle up, my sweetie and me.

Me on my little Arabian, Flying Crow (Fadjurz Ideal).

Bob on Crow’s first born, Tresjur of the Rio.

We start by crossing the river, our mighty Rio Grande.

After ten years of drought, this fall she runs with mild manners.

And down in the hidden crevasse below the bluff that cuts through our land,

Where sunlight is only scattered now and for the next several months,

Ice has begun forming

With strength and gusto and an unspoken belief in being undisturbed until mid May.

And here we come.

Horses with steel shoes.

Breaking through



Curious pawing.

Legs spread out wide under them, under us, but still above the water on the slick white fresh ice.

Thicker than we thought it would be.

This is not the river we have asked them to cross before,

Thin and liquid and loose.

Our maiden voyage to Sweetgrass Meadow on horse begins.

Working with the horses fear and trust and overcoming.

Then amused and impressed with their inquisitiveness in exploring a new trail,

A place they had never been,

No horse had been for probably fifty years or more.

A more adventurous time and place

Long ago and far away

That a few of us who still dream of finding a land untouched

Still long to be.

And then arriving where we want to be.

On the otherside.

At Sweetgrass Meadow.

Our secret oasis.

There because we found it on Google Earth and knew we could find our way.

And we did.

And the horses found the grass as sweet and pure and perfect as I knew they would.

And thus the adventure was worth it,

For us, for them.

And complete.

As we find our way home on the familiar side of the river

Where the horses know the way.


Crossing the frozen Rio Grande.

Chosing an alternate route.
Stopping for a picnic at the bottom of Sweetgrass Meadow.
Me and the boys.
Letting the horses rest.
Enjoying the sweet grass of Sweetgrass Meadow
Lovely little Arabian.
On the other side.
Gunnar von Getz.
Crossing the Rio Grande again.
Almost home.
From the other side.
Looking up the Rio Grande.


(click on any of these pictures to see a larger image, then hit the “back” arrow to return to the post)


5 thoughts on “Detour

  1. Trail riding is such a joy. Your images speak as I believe…the best place in the world is on a trail….on a horse. My husband and I are fortunate to be able to ride in the Sierra Nevada range or the Coastal Range in about an equal amount of time. We’ve never crossed ice though. Our sissy CA horses wouldn’t know what to do about that.

    • Your Sierra’s are pretty impressive! And my horse is orignially from CA (Stockton). See, far away as we may be, we’re not so far off from one another, are we? Ride on!

  2. I sit here, Gin, just shaking my head. I have a gnaw at the pit of my tummy. Could there be anything finer? What a day in the life of the Getz Gang! Look at those lovely soft eyes on those Arabs, the intelligence, the form. Look at those bridles. YEAY! Look at the tack, the gear, the knots, the packing. A picnic thrown in.

    Good seat, guys! Thanks for this eye blurring thrill.

  3. Pingback: Where is this going? «

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