Notes, Horses, Highways

  Desert Dog Dharma (Prescott Dispatches) May 25–26 Beamer is snoring next to me like an old accordion left out in a rainstorm—wheezing in rhythm, punctuated by the occasional twitch of his hind leg, which I can only assume means he’s chasing those white-tailed rabbits we keep passing on the roads here in Prescott. Either that, or he’s being chased by one—possibly the size of a Buick. Hard to tell with dreams. He’s making fast friends with the two local Heelers, both female, that my friends own.. There’s no awkward romance in the air, thank God. Beamer, bless him, leans more toward the gentlemanly appreciation of other fellas anyway, but this week he’s gone full-on frat brother with the girls, trotting after them like he’s already been elected third-in-command of their dusty dog senate. Convincing him to return to the camper at night has become a theatrical production. I call him. He sits. Contemplates life. Maybe hums a little  tune. I call again. He moves forward four in...

So here I am, several days into this trip—after zigzagging through Utah canyon country on photographic excursions that were a bit underwhelming. And the rest of the drive down into Arizona? Let’s just say it left me yearning for roads that don’t feel like the Dollywood Hot Rod Rollercoaster. But hey, the sun’s out now. (Of course it would wait to shine bright until the morning we left Hurricane—sky scrubbed clean, not a puffy white or somber gray cloud in sight. Naturally.) Despite the jostling roads and missed photo ops, I feel blessed. Deeply blessed. I’ve got a handful of friends—true friends—scattered like desert wildflowers across the country. Most don’t live near me, but they’re in my life, and that matters. They tolerate me, listen to my ramblings, still care after all these years. That’s what this road trip is really about: Connection. Reconnection. Not just the highways and horse sightings and snapping pics of cloud shadows, but the people. The familiar ones who knew me back ...

It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m sipping an ice-cold Ninkasi Double Red Ale while perched on the bed of the Rodeway Inn in Hurricane, Utah. Beamer, ever the heat-sensitive travel companion, is belly-down on the tile floor panting like a derailed steam engine. We just came back from a rousing ball chase at the local park. I try to take it easy on the old boy—he is ten now—but tell that to him when he gets that gleam in his eye as the Chuck-It comes out. The weather finally decided to quit sulking today. When I left this morning, the sky still wore its gray flannel pajamas—low clouds, dark and broody, threatening rain but not quite committing. There were a few scrappy patches of blue trying to break through, so I stayed hopeful and headed to Kolob Canyon Scenic Drive. It’s part of Zion National Park, and blessedly close. “Moody” is the only way to describe it. Red cliffs loomed like silent gods in the mist—majestic, imposing, and occasionally peeking out just enough to make me click the shu...

Catchin’ Up on the Trail — May 17 Well, there’s a heap to catch up on… A few days back, I left the comfort of Crane Hot Springs and set out toward Caldwell, Idaho, hoping to get the camper pump looked at and maybe, if the stars aligned, actually fixed. I’d booked a Harvest Host stop for the night nearby, so the plan felt solid. The drive that morning was a dream—eastern Oregon showing off again with quiet, winding roads, sage covered hills, and hardly another soul in sight. Just me, the deserted highway, and that easy silence that makes you forget what day it is. That bliss ended at Camping World, where a guy who looked like he’d lost both his last helper and his will to live, tore into my camper trying to find the pump. After some muttering and a look that said “this ain’t gonna be quick,” I made a judgment call. I bailed. Canceled my reservation and just kept on rolling—it was only 10:30am, and I figured I had daylight to burn. The rest of the day? Not much fun. The wind kept grabbin...

5 A.M. It’s a bit chilly. I’m wearing my ski hat and huddled under my sleeping bag like a burrito with trust issues. I try not to run the camper heater—it’s loud, and I’ve developed a thing about noise lately. (Blame it on age, nerves, or too many years in restaurant kitchens.) I’ve got a small ceramic heater that pulls double duty: keeps the chill down and warms my coffee. Speaking of which—drumroll, please—my Nespresso machine was not broken after all. Just throwing a hissy fit yesterday. Crisis averted! This morning, I’m happily clutching my three-shot, non-fat latte like it’s the Holy Grail. Woohoooo! The skies are heavy and overcast, with sunrise playing peek-a-boo now and then. This is my favorite time of day during the warmer months—when the world hasn’t fully woken up yet, and neither have I. The neighboring campers who rolled in yesterday—with SIX little rug rats and a St. Bernard that thinks it’s auditioning for security duty—are blessedly still asleep. And speaking of sle...

  Crane Hot Springs   May 13, 2025 It’s been a rough 48 hours. SO much stress getting ready for this trip. There were tears before I even left, and a few more on the drive over the pass. Nothing dramatic—it’s just how I let go of things I’ve been carrying around for too long. Women friends will understand... guys? Maybe not so much. The weather wasn’t exactly welcoming—snow, sleet, and rain through the Cascades. Once we got past Bend, the skies settled down. My Pilot did fine towing the trailer, though the steeper climbs at McKenzie Pass definitely had us huffing and puffing. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Now we’re here: cold, windy Crane Hot Springs, about 23 miles east of Burns. Rain off and on, and the camper needs some reorganizing. Oh—and the commode isn’t working. Lovely. Luckily, there are porta-potties scattered around here. That’s kind of a must when you’re a woman of a certain age trying to stay civil in the "wilderness." I unhitched, got Beamer set...

Little Blue’s Almost Ready     May 9, 2025 Little Blue is almost packed—and so am I. Just three more days until I hit the road. After wrestling my garden into something remotely manageable for whomever’s stuck with watering while I’m gone, it’s time to start organizing, packing, and fitting things in like I’m playing a game of Tetris. First stop: twenty-three miles east of Burns, Oregon. Crane Hot Springs. I’ll be spending three nights unwinding—soaking in hot springs, stargazing, and maybe heading toward the Steens range in search of wild horses if all goes well. I’m not entirely sure how my horse-spotting adventures are going to work—either here in Oregon or later in Utah—because of Beamer. (And just plain luck.) Do I leave him in the camper with the A/C running? Or bring him along, even though horses can spot a stranger (or a corgi) from miles away? It’s not that he’ll bark—he probably won’t even notice them. His focus is usually about four inches off the grou...

I now have less than two weeks before a month long road trip to visit good friends in Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. Just me, Beamer the Corgi and the little trailer that could, "Blue." I've been planning and spending for what seems like forever for this four-wheeled trail ride. And it's something I've wanted to do for quite some time just haven't had the means. I purchased Blue, a little retro-looking T@DA trailer made by Dutchman in fall of 2024 and it's been sitting in the yard under a tarp all winter. I did manage to drive it out to the coast for a trial run about a month ago. Everything seems to be shipshape, at least for now. I DO need to practice my backing up skills, (understatement) and at some point I'd like to attach an awning to it but all systems are ready to go. After visiting is over in June I'm planning to take my time on the way home to stop in Utah at a few locations to photograph some wild horse herds. (fingers crossed) Also ...