Almost done.  Maybe another ten days and I’ll be riding into Colorado and be, if not home, then at least… done. Used to be I thought a ten day trip was a big one. Now it is a glorious relief and a grand finale to something really huge.

So here we are, on what may be the sweetest stretch of this journey.  The last leg.

We’re in the Uintas. An incredibly beautiful mountain range I never heard of until my tour took me here. Formed east/ west, like Adam’s rib, instead of the spine of a sleeping beast, this range, like the Warners way back in Modoc County, have lured me, intrigued me, call me to come back, explore more, maybe some day when Bob and I and a couple of fresh young horses are ready to adventure anew.

Riding along quiet trails and sleepy dirt roads at an elevation over 9,000 feet, gazing at rugged mountains still striped with snow, it doesn’t get hot, rains every day, and it’s graced with generous swaths of thigh high grass and gurgling brooks to keep the horses happy.

Plenty to keep me happy too. Not the least of which is Bob. It’s easier with him, and a traveling base camp (the horse trailer to haul, not the horses now, but their feed and water and portable corrals, and a tack compartment we can camp in) that he moves onward each day as the horses as I slowly ride. Don’t get me wrong. It’s still a good challenge, spending the day in the saddle, finding my way through some unknown mountains with a couple of horses. But not having to pack, lift the load, cinch it down and set up camp each day… oh the relief is sweet. And though I may whine and say, “Why couldn’t it have been this easy all along,” you and I both know. It would not have been the epic journey it was if it had been.

Though I don’t usually say this, right now a little easier is okay by me. The horses think so too. We’re tired. We’re weaker, a little beat up, losing weight and nothing but winter off will change that.  My belly still churns like hot lava, but the fever has passed and my appetite is back though my stomach may not be graciously receiving all I put into it.

For now, we’re finishing up,  and really, I feel it already.  The relief. The release. The let go, fall down, kiss the ground,  and humbly turn to my ponies… and my husband… with gratitude and love.

There won’t be any ticker tape parade, no belt buckle or ribbon, no press, paparazzi or souvenirs. Likely it will end as it began.  Quietly.  Humbly. With silent determination, openness and curiosity,  trust and faith. My husband cheering us on. Me and my horses. My road warriors. God, they are amazing….

My ego may wish for something more,  some recognition, a gold star, even a few pats on the back. After all, it’s not every day, and not every one… But I’ll gladly settle for a hug from my husband and a sigh of relief from my horses. And likely a few silent tears from me.

As for reaching the shores of home… soon… well, “home…” its complicated. Confusing. Another story for another day.

Home… over a hundred days and a thousand miles away…

Home… I’m still too far to think about it.

For now, be here and now. Get in the saddle and ride.

One day at a time. One mile at a time. One adventure, one encounter, one wild ride at a time.

Just like when we started. On this long, quiet ride that is still underway.