Where The Blacktop Began

It was the Christmas holiday, 1978, & I had just landed at the Atlanta GA airport with a friend.  We were on our way to N Carolina, where she & her husband lived.  Both were in the Marine Corp & stationed at Camp Lejune.  After running across the airport to catch our "prop job" flight, we made our way, via a stop in S Carolina, to N Carolina.  The weather was gorgeous & the scenery matched.  When her husband picked us up & asked what we wanted to do first, we both said "go to the stable!" 

As we walked around the very nicely kept stable, a loose white horse went running down the dirt road.  The horse belonged to a teacher who owned the property & barn next door.  She was nowhere in sight.  My friend & I took off running after the horse, who by the way, was actually named Whitey.

We had run for about 2 miles (I was much younger in 1978 & still able to run, unlike today) when we heard screeching tires & a "thud".  About 200 yards & a bend in the road later we came to Highway 258, & there stood a dazed, bleeding Whitey.  He'd been hit by a small gas/tankerHmmmm, is any tanker truck really small?  The driver was out pacing in the road, not believing what had just happened, & surely in some state of shock.  Whitey never moved, head hanging, his entire body trembling.  Tire marks were clearly visible across his hip, where the truck had actually run OVER him.  It was hard to see what damage there was because his hindend was covered in blood.  Somehow my friend had had the foresight to grab a halter before we ran, so we caught Whitey & moved him just off the roadway.  A state trooper arrived & called for a vet.

truck. 

It seemed like forever before the vet arrived.  Cleaning Whitey as best he could, he began his assessment of injuries.  I don't know how many stitches it took to put Whitey back together that day.  We stood beside the road for a very long time.  Fortunately there didn't appear to be any internal injuries or broken bones.  The vet gave us pain meds & antibiotics, wished us luck, & off he went.  There my friend & I stood, along the highway, with a very sedated & bloody Whitey.  

With no other options available, we started walking Whitey back to his home.  My friend lead him while I walked behind to keep encouraging him to move.  He staggered along, needing to often stop & rest.  It was a slow, tedious journey & the sun was setting as we arrived at the stable.  His owner had been located & she was there waiting for us.  We helped her get Whitey into her barn & bedded down.  We stayed for quite some time, wanting to be sure he was alright before leaving him for the night.  

Whitey was a lucky horse.  He healed with little more than scars as mementos of his ill fated romp to where the blacktop began.        

Such A Tragedy

Life is so precious & unpredictable, & we have no way of knowing what or how events in life are going to impact us. I got an almost completely incoherent phone call tonight from a neighbor up the road. Something about a horse hit on the road & a foal being born, with an almost hysterical plea to get there fast. I threw on jeans & 1/2 dressed I hurried up the road, on the bumper of the first CHP responder. What a horrific scene, one that will long be burned into my mind.  Blood everywhere with a disemboweled mare laying in the road.  The collision with a truck had split a very pregnant mare, spilling her filly onto the road. My neighbors had grabbed the filly & got her to the side of the road, bundled in blankets.  Half a dozen people stood around, not knowing what to do, wondering what they could feed the filly.  A number of children were sitting on the side of the road, playing in the dirt, one asking questions about what he was seeing.  Flashing lights arriving, 1/2 dozen vehicles (including mine) blocking the road, the sound of a wench & chain.  It was a very surreal scene, somewhat like a slow motion horror movie.  A pretty chestnut filly with a star & some little white socks. Not quite ready to be born, but close enough that her knees felt good , her ears weren't floppy, & she had a suckle reflex. She struggled to get up so I sat with her, holding her sternal & keeping her warm.  Wishing there was more I could do, but at least she wasn't alone.  Wondering if I could take her home & try.  Wanting to cry because she was so fragile & deserved so much more.  Gradually, as I sat there in the night holding her, feeling the cold blood soak through my jeans, her respiration & pulse slowed. By the time a vet tech, called by AC, got there the poor little filly was no longer struggling & had lost her suckle reflex.  It was so very heartbreaking to watch her fade as AC & the tech whisked her away. I can only hope they pull the filly through, but wonder if she even made it to the vet hospital alive.  Such a tragedy that will long haunt my thoughts.

Finding Bigfoot

The year was 1991, the location was just outside Big Bend CA, the occasion was an endurance ride.

My friend Kate & I had planned to ride 50 miles together, with the intention of elevating to the 75 mile ride if our horses looked good at the end of the 50.  It was apparent that Kate's horse Koi was getting tired by the time we hit 45 or so miles.  We slowed down & walked most of the next 5 miles.  There was no question that she wouldn't be elevating to the 75 miler that day.  When we arrived at the 50 finish/vet check, the vet confirmed that Koi was too tired to continue.  Wraff on the other hand was almost literally rearing to go.  It was already 5pm so I wasn't sure I wanted to elevate.  We'd ridden a little slower than planned, so I'd be leaving on the last 25 mile loop later than I'd anticipated.  After the hour hold it'd be 6pm before I'd hit the trail again.  What the hell, off Wraff & I went.

Just before dusk I found myself riding along a ridge line, beneath power lines, with manzanita thick along the trail.  We were just trotting down the trail, having fun, when I heard crashing off to my right.  I could see the top of something dark brown parallelling us.  Wraff pricked his ears & sped up a bit, but otherwise didn't seem to be bothered.  I, on the other hand, was freaking out that a bear was running parallel to us, just 10' or so away.  With a lump in my throat & adrenaline rushing, right then I decided that as soon as I got to the road crossing I was going to ride down the road & back to basecamp.  I was DONE riding & didn't want to be out after dark.  About a mile later the trail turned & there was a little family of deer peacefully grazing.  Relief spread over me because if the deer weren't afraid that meant I was no longer being followed, errr chased.  A pitstop was in order.  A quick stop & I was back in the saddle, trotting down the trail into the night.

Silly me, I'd told ride management I didn't need glow bars for the last couple of miles because I knew the trail & we'd ridden it earlier in the day.  Silly me!  I knew where we were but couldn't find our way through the narrow trail & brush.  I even got off & tried to lead Wraff, who was totally disgusted with me by now.  It was so dark I had to reach my hand out & proceed by feel.  I began to have visions of spending the night on the trail & waiting until daylight to find my way into camp.  I couldn't believe I couldn't find the trail.  Finally I rode back up the hill to the last glow bar, plucked it off the bush (I was the only rider still on the trail), & back down the hill I went.  Gee, is was easy to find the trail with a little light.  Thirty minutes later we arrived at the finish line. 

As I vetted Wraff in, I told of our bear scare & how I almost ended my ride out of fear.  A couple people looked at me funny & said there was no way it was a bear following along the trail.  Bears aren't that big.  I was puzzled.  Then the vet asked me how tall was the manzanita.  Well, it was just about as tall as me.  Yes, just about as tall as me, & I was ON Wraff's back.  If Wraff was 15 hands (or 5') & I was on him, that would have made that bear about 8'-9' tall.  Holy moly!  That was no bear.  As the look on my face changed, the vet patted me on the back & told me I was lucky as I'd seen what very few people ever see.  Bigfoot! 

Until now I've told very few people this story.  Why?  Because part of me still refuses to accept the truth of what was running along side Wraff & I that night.  I try to find some other logical explanation.  But the realization that I could just see the top of something dark brown at a heigth of about 8'-9'' travelling at our speed...I have to accept that I what I saw was a bigfoot.  That thought still raises the hair on the back of my neck.  That's a night I'll never forget.  The night I was more afraid than Wraff.  The night I had a close encounter with Bigfoot.