Today, I created a flyer to sell my horse, Cherokee. Here’s the text and photo:
Paint Quarter Horse for Sale
Cherokee is an approximately 18-year-old registered Paint Quarter Horse gelding. (We don’t have his papers, but can get them; his registered name is “Up Steps a Devil.”)
He is well-behaved and extremely friendly. He’s a good trail horse with plenty of experience riding alone and with large groups. If you ride with the Wickenburg Horsemen’s Association, you may have seen him on some of the rides or in the Gold Rush Days Parade. He’s been trained for a rider to open gates while on horseback. He loads well, has no known health problems, and is really beautiful.
We’re selling Cherokee because we’ve recently had to put down his stall mate, Jake, who was about 30 years old and had developed age-related health problems. We’ve made the decision to do more traveling and have decided to get out of horse ownership for a while.
January 2009 Update: Cherokee has been sold. His new owners live in Wickenburg, so if you ride here in town, you may see him out on the trail once in a while. We’ll miss him terribly, but it’s better for him to get out and ride and for us to shed excess responsibilities at this time.
On Sunday evening, I left my seasonal workplace in Page, AZ to spend a few days at home in Wickenburg.
I’d been in Page since August 10, when I flew my helicopter to Page airport from Seattle. Since then, I’ve been working with American Aviation to offer custom photo flights and day trips in the Lake Powell and Monument Valley areas. I squeezed in flights between chapters of a book I was contracted to write. Between flying, writing, and dealing with a bad back (now healed), I kept very busy. I was ready for a break.
I’d planned to go home on Monday, mostly because we’d had one of our horses put down on Thursday and I wanted to be there for my “family.” But I got a call on Saturday to do a helicopter flight in Wickenburg and the only time available was on Sunday afternoon. So I came back early and made a few bucks on a photo flight for some really nice guys.
I also had work to do at home. I needed to put together some promotional materials for flying at Page, using files on the iMac in my office. But the Internet was down for two days, making it difficult to get the information I needed to get the work done.
I soon found myself stressed out by a number of things:
My sole remaining horse, alone for more than a few hours for the first time in his life, spent a lot of time pacing his corral, calling out to a friend who would never come. It was heartbreaking. I had to keep the windows closed at night so his whinnies wouldn’t keep me up.
My inability to complete the work I needed to do because of the Internet outage. This was aggravated by the knowledge that I had more reliable Internet in a campground in Page than I had in my house in Wickenburg.
My growing dissatisfaction with life in Wickenburg. I’d spent the summer on the road and had seen a lot of places I’d rather be. I almost resented having to come home.
The seemingly endless list of chores I had at home. Life was much simpler in a 21-foot travel trailer in a campground.
When my Internet service came back online and Mike returned from his trip to New York on Tuesday evening, I started mellowing out. I was able to get work done and had someone to share the chores. I pushed back the date of my return to Page. And we went down to Scottsdale for a wine tasting with friends.
My friend, Tom, owns a house in Wickenburg. But these days he spends only one or two nights a week there. He owns a condo in the Deer Valley area of Phoenix, where his business is based. He has friends and a real social life down in Scottsdale. On Wednesday evening, I met Mike at the Kierland Resort for drinks and ceviche at Deseo. Then we drove over to Bacchus for their weekly wine tasting, where Tom was a regular. We tasted some extremely mediocre wines, then shared a few bottles of good wine with Tom’s friends. Then off to Ra to sober up with sushi and tea before the long drive back to Wickenburg.
Mike is thinking of buying a condo in the Biltmore area of Phoenix as an escape to civilization for us. He drives 80 miles each way from Wickenburg to Phoenix for work and is tired of it. (Unfortunately, there are very few good paying jobs in Wickenburg.) He knows about my growing dissatisfaction with Wickenburg and my need for a social life that’s impossible to attain in a half-dead retirement town. Wednesday evening’s activities confirmed our need to get out of town a lot more often.
I flew back to Page on Friday morning. While in Wickenburg, my mechanic, Ed, had installed a new battery and changed the oil in the helicopter. The starter had plenty of juice when I fired the helicopter up at 7:30 AM. I had a great flight back to Page, where I got a warm welcome from my friends.
And last night, I went to my very first high school football game. Mohave beat Page, 24 to 7.
One of my two horses, Jake, will be slipping into the forever sleep later today. We don’t know his exact age, but we think he’s about 30. He developed some serious and painful foot problems this past spring and we’ve been unable to reverse the process. Rather than subject him to more pain with a questionable quality of life, we’ve decided to put him to sleep.
I bought Jake as a second horse about 10 years ago. I had just one horse and Mike and I could never ride together. So I went with a friend to a local horse trader to see what he’d brought back from his ranch up north that spring. He was offering Jake, a sorrel Quarter Horse gelding. Jake had a swayback — his back dipped down and then back up to his hind quarters — and really high withers. The horsetrader claimed Jake was 11 — a magic age for horses because it’s neither too old nor too young — but the vet later said he was at least 17. I saddled him up and went for a ride with my friend and the horsetrader’s wife. Jake was extremely well behaved. At one point, the horsetrader’s wife said, “I wouldn’t be ashamed to ride that horse.” I thought it was a weird comment. I wasn’t ashamed at all. I bought him.
I could tell at once that Jake was very different from Misty, my other horse. While Misty was friendly and would come up to you to be petted or brushed, Jake was far more aloof. He’d obviously been struck around the face — if you approached him with your hand up, he’d run away in sheer terror. It took a long time to build trust in him. But as soon as you put him on a lead rope or put a saddle on him, he was yours. He had a ranch horse work ethic and would do whatever you told him to, without hesitation.
Jake became Mike’s horse. My horse, Misty, another sorrel Quarter Horse, later developed serious front foot and leg problems. After months of pain, I made the decision to put her down. It was heart-wrenching. She was only 19.
I got another horse, a pretty paint Quarter Horse named Cherokee. Cherokee was a spoiled brat who really make Jake look like a prize. Jake was alpha male — the boss — who protected his food and space from Cherokee with pinned back ears and bites. Cherokee never gave up trying to steal Jake’s food. Recently, he was starting to succeed.
We’d often bring them to our summer place on Howard Mesa, where we’d set them loose in our 40-acre fenced-in lot. When there was good grass, they’d graze together. Sometimes, Jake would wander off without Cherokee noticing. When Cherokee realized he was alone, he’d call out to his friend and prance around until he found him. We’d ride around the mesa on the two of them, enjoying the warm sunlight and high desert terrain so different from the Sonoran desert at home. Jake was always at ease and never spooked; Cherokee was always freaked out and, in those early days, taught me how to fall off a horse.
Jake’s teeth were the first to go. They got to the point where no amount of equine dentistry could fix them. We switched his diet to mostly pellets that we’d soak down with water. One vet told us that was keeping him alive.
Then he started coming up lame. We took him to the vet and had his front feet X-rayed. Navicular disease. It’s caused when the navicular bone gets kind of porous and puts additional pressure on the nerves in the horse’s foot. ALthough there’s surgery that could ease the pain — I know it well because Misty had it not long after I bought her — Jake was too old for that. We decided to go with pain medicine and special shoeing to ease the pain. But nothing really seemed to help and yesterday, Mike made the big decision, which I know was hard for him.
Animals are lucky. They have us to spare them from a long, painful, lingering death. Jake will go to sleep later today and not wake up. His pain will be over.
A few weeks ago, I blogged about an extremely full plate of work combined with a tough long distance travel schedule and some serious back problems. Taken together, this situation caused a “Perfect Storm” in my life.
In response to the folks who have been e-mailing me and tweeting to me on Twitter, I thought I’d give an update.
Travel
The travel is over, at least for now. I’m settled in in my camper in Page, AZ. I have a full hookup and am relatively comfortable. My next door neighbors are two pilots who work for the same company that has been chartering my services since the beginning of August. I’ll be here until the beginning of October, when I fly back to Wickenburg to give some helicopter rides in Congress, AZ. By then, I’ll know whether I’ll be coming back to Page or staying in Wickenburg for the rest of the year.
The Book
The book I’ve been working on since the first week in August is nearly finished. I have one chapter and three appendices to write. I expect to get through most of that today. Then I’ll spend the rest of the week going through the edits and reviewing the proofs.
Back Pain
My back is fully recovered. I don’t understand why or how.
For three weeks, I was on a roller-coaster of pain that ranged from minor aches eased by ibuprofen to literally crippling pain that had me in two clinics and a hospital emergency room. The problem was never diagnosed, but I think it was a herniated disk.
After a two-week wait, I was able to get into a physical therapy program here in Page. While I still can’t understand how they thought they’d resolve the problem without knowing what was causing it, they tried. After my second visit, which involved some kind of machine that sent electric pulses that were supposed to ease the pain, I left feeling nauseous and light-headed, with my blood pressure at 166/110. I didn’t go back.
The pain had begun to ease off before physical therapy started. Because the OTC painkillers — ibuprofen, Tylenol, and Alleve — were starting to mess with my head, I stopped taking them during the day. I was getting used to the pain. It wasn’t crippling anymore.
And then one day last week, the pain just stopped.
What I’m Up to Now
So now I’m finishing up my book and doing some flying. I flew 3.5 hours on Saturday and 3.3 hours on Sunday — that’s more than I usually fly in a whole month in Wickenburg. There’s work here and a nice lake to hang out by when I’m done working. Lots of outdoor activities.
The weather is starting to cool down. I’ve re-started my diet and am sticking to it. When I’m done with this book, I’ll start riding my bike again. I’m also really looking forward to midday excursion to Lower Antelope Canyon.
I think I’d like to move up here, at least for part of the year.
Anyway, I feel as if I’m getting my life back. Can’t wait to jump into a few new projects. Thanks to everyone who shared words of support. I really do appreciate it.
Yesterday, after finishing Chapter 7 of the book I’m working on, I took the afternoon off. I really needed a break and yesterday seemed like a good time to take it.
I drove out to Romana Mesa. These days, as some of you know, I’m living in Page, AZ, where American Aviation is booking photo flights and day trips for my helicopter. I only want 5 to 10 hours of flight time a week, and that’s just what they’re giving me. It gives me plenty of time to work on my book and, when I need a break, I can take it.
Romana Mesa is on the north side of Lake Powell, across the lake from Tower Butte. It’s a high mesa, about 1,000 feet of the surface of the lake. The tour planes flight right over it and use it as a reporting point. On a recent helicopter flight, I saw a truck out there. I figured if someone else got a truck out there, I could, too.
So I did some research and, with the help of Google Maps, discovered which back roads would get me there. I had no idea of the condition of the roads, but I had Mike’s 4WD Chevy pickup which I figured would be able to handle most conditions. I used Garmin’s MapSource software to load area topo maps into my Garmin GPSMap60c — I’d had Washington maps in there — and packed up some food and clothes (in case I got stuck), my camera and tripod, and a cooler full of ice and drinks. At 3 PM, I headed out.
This segment of the Lake Powell Map shows my route. The purple line traces my route in and out.
I drove out on highway 89 to Big Water and turned right onto the only road that ventured north east along the north side of the lake. The road soon turned to dirt. I drove through Wahweap Creek, which wasn’t much more than a puddle. Further on, I was surprised to find a sign that pointed me toward Utah Route 12, which I knew ran east/west far north of the lake. Evidently, there was back road access to it.
The road wasn’t in bad shape, but it obviously hadn’t been graded since the last rainstorm. The mud had been deeply grooved by trucks and other vehicles that had been out there when it was still wet. That mud was now dry and rock hard. The going was easy enough, but it jarred my bad back in more than a few places. I wished I had my Jeep, which offers a softer ride on roads like that.
There were signs at each intersection. I followed the one to the Grand Bench, then turned right on route 264. By this time, I’d climbed to mesa-top level. The road struck out over flat terrain studded with small bushes and grass. Very easy going, despite the fact that the road had narrowed down to a single-lane cut through the sand and rock.
About four miles down the road, I got to my first viewpoint. I was rather surprised to find a white Jeep Cherokee (or some other SUV; I really wasn’t paying attention) out there. I chatted with the woman while her husband walked to the edge of the cliff to snap photos. They were from Boston. I got the impression that she was nervous about being so far away from roads and people. She stuck with her vehicle, then followed me as I went to the cliff edge to take some photos. I gave her some ideas for photographing Lower Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend. They moved on down the road while I took a break for some cold water.
The road got weird. It was all rock in one place with deep cracks and fissures. The road was invisible — no tire tracks in sight. But beyond that area I could see the road continuing on toward the end of the mesa. The people from Boston gave up and turned around. I kept going. I found a path over the rocks and joined up with the road again. A while later, I had to repeat the same process in another spot. The road forked off in a few places, but I stuck with the main road. It ended a few minutes later, less than a mile from where the Bostonians had turned around. I parked and got out.
I was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at Gunsight Butte. There were houseboats down below me and a few powerboats cutting wake into the otherwise calm water. I walked around a bit and took pictures. Then I settled down to wait for the light to change.
It had taken me close to two hours to get out to the edge of the mesa — a distance of about 40 road miles and less than 10 air miles. I wanted to take photos in the late afternoon light. There was a storm out to the west and the sun would soon be sinking behind it. There was another storm to the east, which appeared to be moving toward me. I couldn’t stay until sunset because, if I did, I’d be driving at least 25 miles of unimproved, unmarked dirt road in the dark. My night vision is pretty crappy and I knew that would not be a good idea. So I decided to wait no longer than until 6 PM.
While I waited, I took photos and drank cold beverages and ate cherries. I also took this video:
I left the area at 6:10 PM. It took 30 minutes just to drive the 5 miles to the turnoff for the mesa. The sun set while I was about 2/3 back. My headlights came on when I reached pavement. It was about 7:40 PM when I rolled back into the campground.
Would I do it again? Definitely. Would I recommend it to others? Yes. But on a cooler day. (It was 95°F out there.) Bring plenty of water. An overnight camping trip out there would be incredible, too.
One of my two horses, Jake, will be slipping into the forever sleep later today. We don’t know his exact age, but we think he’s about 30. He developed some serious and painful foot problems this past spring and we’ve been unable to reverse the process. Rather than subject him to more pain with a questionable quality of life, we’ve decided to put him to sleep.
We’d often bring them to our summer place on Howard Mesa, where we’d set them loose in our 40-acre fenced-in lot. When there was good grass, they’d graze together. Sometimes, Jake would wander off without Cherokee noticing. When Cherokee realized he was alone, he’d call out to his friend and prance around until he found him. We’d ride around the mesa on the two of them, enjoying the warm sunlight and high desert terrain so different from the Sonoran desert at home. Jake was always at ease and never spooked; Cherokee was always freaked out and, in those early days, taught me how to fall off a horse.
I was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at Gunsight Butte. There were houseboats down below me and a few powerboats cutting wake into the otherwise calm water. I walked around a bit and took pictures. Then I settled down to wait for the light to change.