I wanted to be a kid again. To live like the heroes of my TV youth who rode the fresh and wild west. So I gave it my best shot. In my childhood I had my schwin bike to ride the urban sidewalks. In New Mexico my two steeds I used explore the four corners area with were a late 60's Toyota Landcruiser and a dunn colored Mustang horse. One was call Rosinante and the other Gandhi, I'll let you decide which was which.

    The war in Vietnam was a defining aspect of my young adulthood as it was with many men of my era. I was searching for a way to honor my father's wishes to serve my country. Yet being a military officer was in conflict with my personal sense of honor as I watched the waste, horror and injustice that the U. S. government was engaged in that small Asian country so far from home. Luckily I did not have to serve in Vietnam, rather I spent much of my time protesting the war in a B-52 base in North Dakota. After leaving the service I came to New Mexico and it was like a rebirth. The red canyons with vibrant pinion trees and sagebrush-laced arroyos spoke to my saddened soul.      On a crisp winter afternoon my friend Ace, his son Kevin and I left our adobe homes along the Embudo River, a tributary of the Rio Grand River. We rode to David Rigsby’s ranch across this famous southwestern river. Along the way as we were crossing the river Kevin’s dog, Bouncer, swam after a wild goose that was eyeing us as we splashed with the horses through the shallows. To our surprise the dog actually caught the goose and proudly brought back the somewhat mangled bird. Not knowing what else to do we took it with us to the ranch where David laughed and said he wondered what would ever happen to his most cantankerous and independent farm goose. “Let’s eat it for a Saturday dinner” he said with a smile. Now on the weekend we were again crossing the beautiful Rio Grande looking forward to our not so “hard earned” dinner. Well the goose was cooked and it was one tough bird, I’ll say. It was like eating tasty rubber. Luckily David had foreseen how hard the bird would be to eat and he brought out a delicious casserole to add to our fare.      We ate and talked late into the night extending our conversation to put off the inevitable ride home. The thought of leaving the toasty warm ranch house with the crackling cedar wood-fired Monarch stove was not pretty. By the time we walked out to the horses it was midnight with a full moon and about 0 degrees temperature. Though I had ridden a lot in the daytime this was one of my first night rides and boy was it cold! Yet once mounted on the horses we were amazed at how much warmth our trusty horses radiated. My nose was frozen but the rest of me was quite comfortable. We road back across the river on David’s bridge instead of fording the river and took a path to the top of the nearby mesa. It was such a beautiful night we just had to take this circuitous way home. On top of the mesa Ace’s teenage son challenged us to a race across the mesa top. The local Spanish residents had used this area for racing their horses for generations. With a whoop off we rode feeling like we were flying through the night air on mythical steeds. Kevin having more energy kept galloping to the end of the mile-long dirt track as his father and I took a side trail through an arroyo down to the Embudo River. “Meet you at home he yelled” as he raced off towards the past full moon large overhead. As we entered the draw the trees completely blanked out the moon and we could see absolutely nothing. It was even difficult to stay on top of the horses without visual reference for balance. We had to trust the horses completely and marveled at their keen eyesight and surefootedness. Too excited by our night’s adventure to sleep we stopped at a friend’s house whose lights were still on with the sounds of music seeping out of the thick adobe walls into the cold night air. Richard opened the large wooden door with a mandolin in hand.      Later at home having unsadled and brushed down my horse I couldn’t believe it was 2:30. As I fell into bed I knew this was an evening I’d always remember.

     30 years later I try to keep that spirit of feeling truly alive ever-present in my being. My connection, as always, is in being out of doors, be it climbing, hiking, kayaking or biking. I have been blessed by good health and physical soundness. Pushing the physical “envelope” is getting to be more challenging these days but no less important in my life.