Camping story . . .

[Trishmare@aol.com]

Dear Karen,
    Sorry it has taken me so long to respond to this.  The camping story you
were inquiring after was mine.  You did get the gist of it!  Anyhow, here is
the story:

     My friend Sue and I decided to go horsecamping for the weekend in Hadley
Hills, a recreation area about 15 miles from my home.  Not owning a trailer,
it was easy to make the decision to ride our steeds to camp, rather than haul.
Owning a pickup truck, it was also easy to make the decision to get my long-
suffering, non-horsey hubby to carry all our gear to camp for us, so we could
just ride, unencumbered, as it were.   Ron, my husband, was not camping . . .
he was just going to drop the stuff off at camp for us.  Having an entire
pickup bed to fill, we filled it!!!  I mean, might as well be comfortable,
right?  Two tents, large Coleman coolers, camp stoves, lawn chairs, camp
lights etc, etc, etc . . . use your imagination.  If we figured we might need
it, we brought it.
     Ron hauled everything up to camp, and even, bless his heart, set up camp
for us, and then hightailed it out of there.  With the truck, of course.  We
had a pleasant 15 mile ride into camp.
     Next to where we were set up was camped "Cowboy."  That's what we called
him.  He camps a lot in Michigan, so I've been told, though I hadn't seen him
before, but long time trail rider, horse camper, knows it all and will help
anyone who needs assistance, type of guy, some of my friends said.  Who was I
to argue? 
     That night, I went up to the camp of some friends of mine.  It was out of
site of my camp.  Sue, my friend, needed to refill her refreshement, and
headed back down to our camp to get it.  A while later I hear all kinds of
commotion, and Sue hollering bloody murder for me . . . so I go booking down
to camp, as fast as my blood-alchohol level allowed, at any rate, and there is
Cowboy, leading my faithful hooved partner Tash over to Sue.  He handed the
lead to Sue,  and then proceeded to fix the pathetic job I'd done of tying the
picket rope.  Well, I never have been very good with knots.  Anyhow, once we
got the horse repicket, Sue explained that as she headed down, she could see
Tash had become entangled in the picket line, and there was going to be a
wreck . . . but just before that happened, Cowboy saw it all, came over, and
saved the day.  I'm not sure if there would have been a wreck or not, Tash is
pretty sensible, though it has been his lifelong conviction that his owner is
a lunatic.
    Once the horse was tied again, Cowboy came over to me and started giving
me a lecture about how to properly tie a picket line, how horses are so
unpredictible that "it is not 'if' a horse is going to get into trouble, it is
'when,' unless you do things right,"  etc, etc, . . . it was obvious he
thought I was a real greenhorn. Which I am, at horse camping!!!  He meant it
all kindly, and I took it in that spirit, and listened to him intently,
agreeing with all he said and thanking him for his advice profusely.  
     Suddenly, mid-sentence in his advice, he pauses, looks around, and says,
"By the way, where is your rig?"  
     "Rig?" 
      "You know . . . your truck, trailer . . ."
      "I said," (not really thinking how it was going to look . . .) "Oh,
well, we rode on into camp . . . "
       Cowboys jaw snaps shut, he does a slow scan of the camp, two tents,
chairs, coleman coolers, stoves, etc, etc, etc, eyeballs the two horses
picketed there, eyeballs the camp one more time . . . and then turns on his
heel and walks away, shaking his head slowly from side to side, the expression
on his face all but saying, "Sheeeeeeiiiiiit, Ah don't have to tell these gals
nothin' . . . . rode into camp . . . "
    And no, I didn't enlighten him!!!

Hope this is what you wanted Karen.  True story . . . just ask my friend Sue .
. . she was there!!!

Happy trails, and, um, camping . . .
Trish & "pretty David"
Grand Blanc, Michigan