|Rocky Mountain Penstamon|
I’m asking you to imagine this because my traveling companion managed to lose my camera the day we arrived in camp.
The kick off to a week of hilarious drama that could be a highly entertaining made for tv movie.
I was invisible. I don’t curl my hair, slather on tons of make up or weigh myself down with 20 pounds of cowgirl bling ~ aka rhinestones. And, therefore, I don’t exist.
This year, I traveled with twin 50-year-old (read: aging) rodeo queens who did just that, both competing for the attention of the same man.
Pouting on the sidelines was the rejected ex-beau who’d waited a whole year to see twin #1 again. When she barely glanced in his direction, the special ice cream [that he'd brought for her] went sour and so did his attitude.
Fish, the only attractive single man on this fiasco of a trail ride, spent his week chasing after an 18 year old girl from Germany, who was easily young enough to be his daughter, and seemed quite anxious to go home.
Now that is not nearly enough drama to keep us yahoos occupied.
These are the times that try
Geez. I almost forgot to bitch about the other member of this ill-fated Donner Party. We brought along the most high maintenance California girl I’d ever met. She could not be bothered to feed, water or even saddle her own horse because she was having ‘a low energy day.’
Good times. (Are you laughing? I hope you're laughing, because I am. :)
|Sweet Sable, resting in the shade.|
|Cellphone shot of us riding into Sunlight Basin.|
|Riding into camp.|
I almost saw a bear! Turned out to be a cow. And, the whole time I was up there, I thought I was in Montana. Turns out I was in Wyoming. Whateva.
Lots of people have asked why I don't intend to do this ride again and ~ surprise, surprise ~ it is not because of the crazy ass human drama. I mean, really, without those shenanigans I'd have nothing to blog about! The Chief Joseph Trail Ride changes location every year, on their trek from Oregon to the Canadian border. For the next two years, they'll be riding across the hot dry plains of Montana where we'll spend as much time fighting with rattlesnakes and grasshoppers as we do with ourselves. Sable and I are moving onto greener pastures.