Being an outfitter is hard work.  Being an outfitter's wife is sort of like being an indentured servant.  If you can do it, you will.  Women's equality is (sometimes unfortunately) in full swing in these relationships.  No task is delegated to one sex or the other (except cleaning the toilets, mopping the floor, vacuuming, etcetera.)  But I digress....

As an outfitter's wife you will be expected to learn how to do things you never thought you'd have to learn how to do.  Weedeating, bear baiting (see prior post), backing the trailer, driving a stick shift that also has no brakes, doctoring horses, lifting entire giant hay feeders by yourself, ​splitting 4,000 cords of wood, and FENCING.

​I will never forget my first time using a fence stretcher.  It was when I was working in Colorado at the Rusty Spurr and my boss, Han, took me over to the Orr Place and gave me a one time quick crash course and left me there to fight it out with the wire and the stretchers and the cutters.  I felt so accomplished at the end of that day.  Little did I know I had just learned something I should have tried to avoid learning.  When my husband later asked me if I knew how to use fence stretchers I should have denied, denied, denied.  But stupid me, oh yeah, I can do that!  Ha Ha.

​Now, fencing is hard enough when your fence is all nice and tidy in a beautiful green grassy field of lush grass that goes on for as far as the eye can see.  But when your fence crosses the river twice as well as two creeks and several swampy bogs all the while weaving amongst river willows that are borne of the depths of hell and the fence posts were hand carved back in 1837 and have had at least 400 fencing nails pounded in them .... well then it starts to get fun.

​The first time I fixed our fence is when I think I learned how to curse.  That time I only had my pony Tuff and our pack pony Jerry for help.  What pals.  Tuff helped me string wire and paneling across the swollen spring Hoback (even after I had already tried to drown us both in that very river the year before.... whole other story... ) and Jerry stood steady while I unloaded wire and stay posts and stretchers and reloaded them and unloaded them. 

A day out there by yourself is good though.  You think about a lot of things.  Like why the hell did somebody build this fence through this bleepity bleeping willow thicket?!?!  You also learn a lot.  Like wear sleeves.  Even if it's hotter than the Sahara, wear sleeves if you have any regard for the skin on your arms at all.  Also, paint all your tools orange, particularly your fencing pliers.  You also learn not to try to beat the willows because you will not win.  Just tie your hair back, put your head down, and fight your way to the fence.  I have tried cutting them back with nippers which is very hard work but seems like a good idea.  Next year it will have been worth it, right?  Wrong.   It's like you pruned them and the next year they come back in double force.  You will undoubtedly return home at the end of the day looking like you've been to war.... because you have.  You also learn that muck boots seem like a good idea until the water goes over the top.  Just wear tennis shoes.  Or waders. 

​Me and Tuff and Jerry have seen some really beautiful days out there though.  It's the spring so you often bump into a few new born fawns here and there.  And you are certain to see lots of goslings and hissing mother and father gooses.  They're pretty fun to watch ride the rapids of the swollen Hoback River.  Those little guys can really swim!  For a few years I had this beaver that would come to the same spot on the creek bank every year.  He'd be laid up there in the sun, on his back with his tail on his belly and I swear if he just had a Budweiser in his hand he could've been a great commercial.  Not a care in the world.  Just hanging out on a happy spring day.  And I've seen some pretty amazing storms roll in and out.  Big fluffy clouds that soak you down and make you almost want to head in and then just as quick as they came, they go, often leaving big double rainbows overhead.   The best was when I was ducking to go to the other side of the fence to avoid some willows and I spied a morel mushroom.  I ended up finding about a pound of them! 

​So, as much as I complain about the struggle, it's really pretty nice sometimes.

​And it's one of those jobs that you really get to see the efforts of your work come together to make something useful.  It's a real sense of accomplishment when you turn your horses out for the first time that spring and watch them dive their noses into the new, tender green grass and KNOW (well actually you hope) that you built a fence that will keep them safely and happily on your own grass.  (I say HOPE because I'm pretty sure Tuff pays attention when we go fencing and makes mental note of all potential weak spots and takes his friends Happy and Jerry there to test them out.)

​This year I am learning a new lesson from fencing.  You know that saying about how a good friend will bail you out of jail but a real friend will be in jail with you the next day saying, "Damn, that was fun."?   Well I think they've got that all wrong.  A REAL friend will come fencing with you.  The first time is a big deal but when they come back a second and third day to help you it's true love.  And when they wear overalls so they can follow you around and be your tool box or wade through the river in May when the water is high and FREEZING cold to help you pull the wire out of the river so you can restring it... well, I don't even have a word for that.

​And then you have someone to chatter with and solve most of the problems of the world.

And the best part of it is that after you're done you have somebody to share that sense of accomplishment with.  We did that.  We fixed that damned old fence with the rotting posts and the rusty old wire and the boggy, willowy setting and it looks damn good.  And now it's done and we can go have a beer!

​Thanks gals for the help!  Ya'll are the best!

Rocky Mountain Phlox (Phlox multiflora)

​This low, mat forming, little dainty flower is one of the most fragrant and has always been one of my favorite spring time flowers. One of the first to pop out, it is a very tough little bugger, often growing on high, windblown ridges and amongst rocks and in craggy nooks and crannies. It's sometimes white, lilac, purple, or almost blue. I've also seen it with a tinge of pink.

​On a calm, sunny day a horse ride through a patch of this colorful carpeting will fill your nostrils with a very sweet perfume like you've not smelled before.

​It always makes me smile. Also my dog Bojangles likes to roll in it (this is the same dog that likes to roll around on dryer sheets).

​The photo is from just outside of Cody, Wyoming where Sam and I did some hiking early this spring. The stuff was all over up there and is just now getting to it's peak of bloom here in Bondurant.

So, about a year ago one of my best friends calls me up from where he lives in New Zealand and says, "Hey, how's it going?  Let's go ride 400 plus miles across Mongolia next year."

I was like ​you are crazy.
We aren't doing that.

​We leave in less than three weeks.

​The 2016 Gobi Gallop is the 4th Annual running of the longest charity horseback ride in the world.  We will ride over 400 miles in 10 days time.

​Now, I ride quite a bit.  10 or 12 or 14 hours in a day is really no big deal.  We do it all the time.  However, I'm pretty sure we don't do 40 miles in a day.  The word is you go at a high trot all pretty much all day.  I am essentially going to become a long distance endurance rider overnight. 

Yee Haw!

​The beautiful thing about this ride is that it's all for the Children of the Peak Sanctuary.  The Peak is a project created by the Veloo Foundation to "alleviate the suffering and neglect of the most vulnerable and marginalized children in an Ulaanbaatar neighborhood whose residents make a living and feed and clothe their families with items scavenged from the rubbish dump."

​Over 120 children currently benefit from this program where they are fed, cared for, and educated five days a week.  Most of the families who are helped by this program were previously nomadic herders who were forced to move into the city after a very harsh winter saw ALL of their animals freeze to death.  As nomadic peoples they are undocumented and lack the many skills that might help get them a job in the city.

​Besides helping care for and educate the small children of such families the foundation also strives to provide employment opportunities for many members of the community as well as providing training and educational opportunities for young adults so that they may gain the necessary skills to enter the job force.

​50 percent of the fee for each of the 10 rider's selected to participate in this years Gobi Gallop will go directly to the Sanctuary.  I have been raising money through calendar sales and photo book sales as well as on my registered Gobi Gallop Raise-A-Thon site.

​There is still time to donate or purchase a photo book!

​I can't wait to be a part of this wonderful journey.  It's not often you get the opportunity to go somewhere amazing and challenging with your best friend while simultaneously helping other people in the world.

​I am so thankful to live where I do and have all the essentials of life readily available to me.  Sometimes we forget that the rest of the world isn't like our own great homes, that some people in this world can't even get safe food or clean water or a warm place to sleep. 

​For this reason I look forward to going to Mongolia, not just because the ride is going to be amazing and the experience unforgettable but also because I hope to get a face to face reminder of the state of the world and of the privilege it is to be an American where opportunities and relative safety and comfort abound.

​I can't wait to meet the beautiful people of Mongolia and experience a culture where the horse is held in such high regard.  I can't wait to see a new part of the world that most people only read about.  I can't wait to meet the children that our trek will raise money to help.

​I also can't wait to go and do it so I can return and tell you guys all about it!

Yee Haw!

​If you are interested in donating please visit http://www.veloofoundation.com/ and click on the one time donation button for American Residents.  Put "Gobi Gallop Alix Crittenden" in the notes box and donate as little or as much as you would like.  Every bit is helpful!

​If you are interested in purchasing a photo book that I created with my own images to help raise money for this trip you may purchase the 7x7 book HERE or the 12x12 book HERE.

And thanks so much for your support!

Part of our work here involves taking people out to see the beautiful Wyoming countryside by horseback.  We get people from all walks of life: farmers, accountants, car salesmen, doctors, dentists, rocket scientists.  You name the profession and I bet I've taken somebody for a horse ride with that job or something close to it.  I even took OJ Simpson for a ride once!

​The one thing that never fails to amaze me is the everyday person's complete lack of animal savvy.  The distance that our everyday lives have grown away from livestock is pretty huge.  It seems somewhere along the way we've forgotten how to interact with animals.  I've had people attempt to RUN up to my horses, who were all minding their business, so that they could give them a hug.  Fast speaking New Yorker's who have a tendency to talk in a very big way with their arms really do a number on my critters.  Then you've got the very sensitive clients who, afraid of hurting my horses feelings, allow them to eat ALLLLL day when we're trying to get up the trail  Or that guy who takes too many protein shakes and thinks he can use his brute strength to make the horse do what he wants.  Or the ones who had a bad experience in the past with horses and so they yell out, "WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!!!!" every time the horse so much as looks the wrong way.  Did that work last time your horse ran away with you?  No.  It did not.  So, it’s probably not going to slow down this horse’s slightly fast paced walk.  It is really often quite entertaining sometimes.

The horses, however, have TOTAL people savvy.  They can read a person like a book before they’ve even climbed aboard.  Think you’re a macho cowboy?  Want to man handle a 1,000 pound animal?   Good luck with that.  I’ve got ponies way stronger, tougher, and (arguably) smarter than you that will make you feel like a ginormous fool or, at the very least, make sure your butt and family jewels are ruined for approximately three days.  Super sensitive to the horses feelings?   Think the round little pony that could pass for a hippo because he’s so fat is hungry?  Oh, man.  Then your three hour ride just became a full day and your knuckles will probably hit the saddle horn at least 73,498 times.  And if you’re going to yell out “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!” then you might as well shriek, “YEEEEHAWWW!” while waving your hat over your head.  (Sarcasm.  That is sarcasm.  Don’t do this.)  I swear I’ve actually seen my horses roll their eyes before.

Now, if you’re guilty of any of these things on a trail ride before please don’t feel like I’m picking on you.  I truly appreciate everyone that comes out and I understand it’s our job to show you how to ride our horses.  It’s a job that I actually love and have been doing for a long time.  And besides, imagine what a mess I’d be in a doctor’s operating room or what would happen if I tried to build a rocket ship.  Or how badly someone’s hair would look if I played hairdresser for a day.  (Ask my dog Bo about my hair cutting skills.  He’s had a couple pretty bad trims.  Haha.)

The point of this post is not meant to make anyone feel bad, it’s just a reflection on something I find to be mind boggling.  It truly wasn’t that long ago that people depended on livestock such as horses in order to LIVE.  We are really only a few generations removed from a time when if you didn’t have a horse you didn’t go to town or get your fields plowed.  If you didn’t have chickens you didn’t get eggs and chicken soup was not going to happen.  No cows?  Then no cheese OR burgers for you, my friend.  Literally, it’s likely that your great grandpa traveled by horse drawn wagon at some point in his life.  The first gas powered car was invented in 1886 but automobiles didn’t really get mass produced until the early 1900’s.  And even then it wasn’t until the 1930’s that the average family could afford to buy a car. 

How quickly we forget.  The average American person these days is more likely to know how to build an iPhone app than how to put a saddle on a horse.  Besides that, most people don’t even know how to properly behave around animals in general, wild or domestic.  (I’m reminded of a recent headline in the news that detailed how a couple of Yellowstone tourists put a baby bison in their car because they thought he was too cold!!)

The horse has been used for millennia for everything from a beast of burden in everyday life to a soldier’s battle steed in war to a cowboy’s right hand man out on the cattle range and (in some cultures) a source of meat and milk.  How did we so quickly become so far removed from an essential tool (and in many cases companion) that until recently mankind has depended on greatly since around 4,000 BC?
​
What do you guys think?

How to hunt bears:

1. Wait until the muddiest, coldest, wettest, most miserable time of year.
2. Wait until cattle ranchers cows start calving. When some said cows die from difficult labor, go and pick them up so you can drive around town and get looked at as though you are a practicing axe murderer.
3. Dump said dead cows in your yard, probably up wind of your house because... actually, I don't know why the men do this. I think it's to drive all women to complete and utter insanity as well as to ensure that every pet dog on the property smells horrible.
4. Wait at least 3 days. 2 if it's sunny and warm.
5. Cut up said dead cows into quarters and store in horse trailer for at least one week. DO NOT VOMIT.  Also know that all the friends you think you have will mostly disappear during this time.
6. On a very, very rainy, slippery day load cow quarters on horseback. It is very important that you get the bear bait somewhere on you in a way that will be noticed by others. Usually it will get in your hair also. This gets you bonus points (although with whom I'm not sure yet.)
7. Ride up a slippery, sloppy mountain. (Don't forget the barrel which you will need a very good horse to pack it on. Also, DO NOT forget wire and wire cutters.) Go to predetermined bait site.
8. Wrestle barrel to bait tree. Wire it.
9. Wrestle with stinky rotten cow quarters for at least 10 minutes. Don't worry. There are absolutely NO BEARS around to attempt to eat you even though you, your horses, and the 5 or 10 miles around you smells like delicious dead cow. Definitely no possibility of getting eaten by a bear. Definitely not.
10. Once you are thoroughly covered in bear bait you may or may not have gotten it near the barrel. Do this now if not. Then lift it in. Keep your face away from the barrel when the quarter finally drops in. Wire said quarter to barrel. Repeat steps 8 and 9 for each quarter of cow.
11. Feel accomplished and stinky. Sometimes it's a good idea to rub yourself down with sagebrush or pine boughs so you can stand yourself on the ride home. If you swing by the bar for a quick beer and someone says, "What's that smell?" then you leave quickly. It's you.
12. Wait patiently for bears to come. Check baits every other day. If bear eats all of the bait, bring more.
13. When the bear is in the bag, have a bear party.
14. SHOWER.

​All joking aside, I love bear hunting. I've seen some pretty amazing things sitting in the blinds waiting for the bears. Once a cow elk walked right up to us. She was so confused about what we were and kept turning her head on side like a curious puppy. It was pretty amazing. The birds can be pretty entertaining as well. I've shared the crumbs of more than one sandwich with inquisitive little chickadees, not to mention the pesky little chipmunks. Just last night sitting on a bait we had woodpeckers all around in the trees right above us working away as though we weren't there at all. I've stumbled on hordes of yummy mushrooms on the way into the baits before and gathered them up for a later feast.

Maybe one of my most memorable trips was checking a bait we call Whiskey. I had been putting bait there and checking the thing every couple days.  It was my first real instance of doing this on my own and I kind of felt like it was MY bait.  I had seen some tracks the time before real close to the bait but there had been no hit. I thought for sure I'd have one this day. Me and my pony Tuff and my little dog Bo were headed in, nice sunny day, maybe about 10 in the morning or so. We topped out over the edge of the ridge and began our decent. The grass was coming on good and the wildflowers were starting to get going pretty well. It was a happy morning.

Just as we were reaching the top of the valley and beginning to head down the draw I looked up to see a sow and two cubs running like the dickens up to the head of the draw. I mean they were really cutting a rug. I pulled up my pony and called in my dog and waited a minute. I wondered where the heck they were headed in such a hurry. I couldn't see the top of the draw from where I was so I decided to go back up the top of the ridge and do a little glassing and see if I could figure out what was going on.

So, the three of us hit a lick back up where we could get a good view of the whole draw. I never did see the sow or cubs again and I soon found out why. From the direction they had come was a silly old boar rolling around in the grass.

Some people don't know this but a boar has often been known to kill and eat cubs in order to get the sow to come back into heat sooner. The drive to procreate being almost too strong, the cubs are often at risk when a boar is in their immediate vicinity. The mother literally had them on a run for their lives.

Me and Tuff and Bo sat on that ridge for over an hour watching that boar. He rolled around in the grass, ate some grubs out of a stump, pounced up and down on some logs. He was a real treat to witness. I decided to go on home and leave the bait to him. He would surely find it.

That night I went on my first bear hunt as a guide in training under old Cowboy Glenn. A rough and grumble character he doesn't always communicate well. We headed down the trail towards the bait with our client, also on his first hunt. As we came near the area old Cowboy Glenn commenced to shaking his head and swearing like a cub in a bees nest who couldn't reach the honey. "Get off your horses and get comfortable," he said. This ain't never going to bleepity bleeping work. Argh, argh, argh."

As the person who put the bait in and had been checking it I thought for sure I must have done something wrong. We sat down, me and the client in total confusion, and ate our lunch and waited for the cursing to die down.

Turns out it was the wind was blowing the wrong way. I told Glenn this story a year or so later and how I thought he was mad at me and we had a good laugh about it.

Anyway, we headed on in once the wind settled and I bet we hadn't been sitting there more than 20 minutes when my silly boar came in. The hunter made a clean shot and it was an extremely successful hunt. He was a beautiful bear with a sort of burgundy hue to his otherwise brown coat. A real prize.

I didn't get to take the rug home but I will always remember that bear and that hunt in a special place in my heart. What a privilege to witness that bear so intimately in all his wild glory for a little while. How nice to think that perhaps we saved those cubs another close encounter so they might grow up and become like him some day. What a great experience for our client, who still hunts with us today, many years later.

I know hunting has some controversy around it and I understand that it's not for everyone. But I hope people can understand that the actual pulling of the trigger is such a small part of what hunting is about. The experiences I have had hunting I wouldn't trade for the world. Hunting has taught me a great deal of humility, among many, many other things and has given me a heightened appreciation for all things wild.

"One does not hunt to kill, one kills to have hunted...."

​Yee Haw

​If somebody had said to me 10 years ago, “One day you will live in Wyoming and in the summertime you and your mountain man hunk of love will run your outfitting business with 20 plus horses and several dogs and live in a fifth wheel in one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever seen…. And then in the winter you’ll competitively race sled dogs all over North America and you’ll have all kinds of adventures in between.” If somebody had said that to me I would have asked them what the hell they were smoking.

I was going to go to college and become an accountant and play bluegrass fiddle on the side for extra spending money and lead a fairly boring but satisfying life and be content in the mountains of Tennessee or North Carolina.

But crazier things have happened to better people….

So, here’s how it went:
I was born and raised in small town Stedman, NC. I grew up in a loving family with a little sister just mean enough to keep me honest and parents who encouraged us to be strong women who knew we could do anything we wanted if we worked hard and kept our eye on the prize. We rode horses, we played sports, we had adventures.

I started playing fiddle at about 13 years old, I think. I got real involved in this and soon learned that this fun hobby could possibly become a career. I got in a few bands, made a little money, and saw a good portion of the South with a fiddle in my hand and a microphone in my face. It was fun. I got a scholarship to play fiddle at East Tennessee State University in Johnson City, TN. So, off I went to college.

I quickly fell in love with a fellow musician and we had a tumultuous, addictive relationship that would come to teach me about the world, myself, and about a million other things. I pursued a degree in accounting and kept on playing fiddle and worked at a horse barn teaching riding lessons.

The summer between my junior and senior year found me feeling restless and trapped, unable to think for myself or find a focused path. For some reason I started looking for jobs riding horses. While researching on that beautiful, beautiful tool called Google I stumbled across a ranch in Colorado called The Rusty Spur. On a whim I applied for the wrangler position. As fate would have it I’d get offered the job. And I took it. Three months in the wild west sounded like fun. It was.

I lived in a one room cabin with no running water or electricity with this crazy Texan girl who taught me how to party and who quickly became my good friend. We rode horses all day long on 10,000 acres of Colorado beauty every day and spent our evenings in the saloons of Kremmling drinking whiskey with good looking cowboys. What a life!

I was hooked. I learned the peace that came after a long, dusty, hard day’s work. I re-found my connection to the horse and all that comes with that. I got chased by a bear! I climbed a 14,000 foot mountain. I made new friends. I was good at my job.

But I had had a plan. I had a degree to finish and a boy to marry and a “real” job to get.

So, I went back to Tennessee.
And then life slapped me upside the face. WHAP!
Life said, “Girl, get your shit together. Get your head on straight. You found something you love. You found a place that sets your soul on fire. You’re going to find yourself out there. Why you going back to what your heart already told you was a dead end?”

Typical 21 year old, I didn’t listen.
So, life took it to the next level…
I arrived “home” from my first summer in Colorado to find all my things placed neatly on the front lawn. No joke. You can’t make this stuff up. Well, actually you can, you see it in the movies all the time but I thought that’s the only place you saw it. Nope. It happened to me. Actually. In real life.

So, okay life, you got my attention… Clearly I didn’t get married. I whipped out that last year of school quick as I could and practically RAN back to cowgirl life.

I never thought I’d be so happy to see a one room cabin and an old wood cook stove. But I was.
Another happy summer on the ranch found me searching for a way to stay out West for the winter as well. Back to that beautiful tool called Google. Don’t ask me why but something made my fingers type “dog mushing jobs” in the search box.
What I ended up with was a job working at Jackson Hole Iditarod Sled Dog Tours taking tourists to Granite Hot Springs via dog team.

I am from North Carolina. We do not dog sled in North Carolina. I do not know what possessed me to this day. But I FELL IN LOVE.

On several counts actually. First with the dogs and the job. What amazing creatures. What a trip back in time. I was hooked. (Later I would learn that dog mushing is actually a sickness which you can never be rid of no matter how hard you try and even when it sucks all your time and brains and money away. Dogs are an addiction and I love each and every one of them.)

Secondly with the country. If Colorado was beautiful then Wyoming was like a heavenly masterpiece that seemed painted just for me. Particularly Bondurant.

Thirdly with the man I now call my husband whom I met in a twist of fate that would change my life permanently and in the greatest ways imaginable. Big of heart and of stature he immediately won me over (that’s a story for a future post) and it wasn’t long until I moved to Wyoming permanently to help run his father’s outfitting business, Sleeping Indian Outfitters.

Now that is our life. We take horseback trips and hunting trips in the summer and fall and I run dogs in the winter.

And people say to me all the time, hey, you have the craziest life (they truly have no idea haha) write a book, you should blog, etcetera, etcetera. My response is who wants to hear about my silly life? Well, apparently somebody because you guys talked me into it.

SO, here goes. You’ve got a (not so) brief introduction to either get you started following this blog (what is that word anyway?) or to affirm that you could care less about some crazy girls weird adventures and stories from past and present.

Think what you will. My life is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a conventional one… but I LOVE it.

So, I’m going to try to detail some of it here… I’ve got stories, maybe recipes now and then, maybe poems, maybe songs, maybe photos. Who knows what this will turn into. I don’t blog so I don’t know anything about what is supposed to be accomplished here. I’ll just wing it…

I promise only to always be honest. Who knows what might come of it but I hope at least someone enjoys it or maybe finds some inspiration or lends me some inspiration…? I don’t know.

And I hope I can get something out of it too, maybe a step back, a reflection, a moment to chill the heck out and relax and see that dreams do come true even if you didn’t know they were your dreams to begin with….
​
Yee Haw.