Buffalo Moon Expedition

Ne Jamais Oublier...

2012-02-05T13:34:00.002-05:00

I will miss you Acadiana - and the Queen City of the Bayou Teche.. You as a people and as an area revived my ability to acquire a second language almost fluently, again - with a savvy linguistic twist! You have taught me about a thriving equestrian heritage, oppression and succession of a people, tenacity, and Comment parler cheval en français! But most of all.. .Evangeline still your people's heroine, Cajun is still your birthright and heritage....and on a Saturday night, out of Vinton, Louisiana, the Fais Do Do radio plays the history of a people through its music.

Merci, Acadiana... Vous m'avez appris beaucoup!!!

Heavier Riders Guide (Geared for Gaited Horses but Useful for all Breeds)

2012-01-04T11:56:00.002-05:00

I always wanted a more accurate way to determine how much weight a horse can carry under saddle. The Cavalry has said over and over it's 1/5th or 20% of the horse's weight. But what about the consideration of bone mass?

On Gaited Horses' website they give this little tidbit about heavier riders which considers bone mass to some extent by measuring cannon bones. Here is what they say... I feel this is a another option and a viable way (pun intended) to determine more closely how much weight a horse can carry during equestrian travel.

The Heavier Riders’ Guide
to Comfort and Safety with Gaited Horses
By Beverly Whittington and Rhonda Hart-Poe

The U.S. Calvary published “The Cavalry Manual of Horse Management”, by Frederick L. Devereux, Jr., in 1941. He recommended that the collective weight of rider and gear not exceed 20% of the total weight of the horse. These were horses in top condition whose riders’ very lives depended on the horse's ability to carry them long miles, often at speed. It stands to reason that if they were to incorporate a margin of error, it would be on the side of the horse being overly capable of carrying its rider, rather than less so.

Comparably, a study of 374 competitive trail riding horses compared horse/rider weight relationships. They concluded that these horses can easily carry over 30% of their body weight for 100 miles and not only compete, but compete well. As would be expected, good body condition and bone structure were found to be paramount. Bone structure was evaluated using the front leg cannon bones as representative of general structure.

*****

Measurement Test

Add up the total weight of the horse, rider and tack. (See TGH Summer 1998, page 37.) Our example: Damascus, Lady + tack = 1188 pounds.
Measure the circumference of the cannon bone midway between the knee and fetlock. Our example: Damascus, 7.5 inches.
Divide this total weight by the circumference. Our example: 1188 ÷ 7.5 = 158.4
Divide the result by two. Our example: 158.4 ÷ 2 = 79.2

Scores on Results

Values near 75 are great, below 75, even better.

Values from 75/80 are acceptable.

Values over 80 indicate weaker legs and a need to train carefully, especially downhill.

Values over 85 suggest you need a horse with more substance.

***
Damascus rates near the end of the acceptable range, but should still be able to carry Lady comfortably.

*Note that cannon bone circumference (as overall bone substance) increases with the horse's fitness level, so if he is borderline, like Damascus, it doesn't necessarily mean you're too big for him. By “racking” up Long - slow - distance (LSD) miles, which builds up bone over time, he may measure up yet. Be patient: it can take up to three years for bone to remodel. But don't expect a miracle either. This is a slight variance from the original bone mass. Just as if a person where doing bone mass building exercises the changes are small overall.

Condition Your Horse
Obviously no horse should be ridden if he is unsound or in pain. Add a heavy load on his back and the horse must be more than just sound, he should be fit.

The overweight or out-of-shape horse must be conditioned, slowly, prior to carrying a heavy load. Consult with your trainer or vet for the best way to condition your individual horse. Unfortunately, the average “back yard horse” is generally not in any better condition than the average “weekend rider”, which includes a lot of us. Such horses should not be expected to carry more than 20 to 25% percent of their body weight. Add a rider who is heavier, and possibly less balanced and/or athletic, and it becomes obvious that the stouter and/or better conditioned horse will be more able to carry the load comfortably, safely, with less chance of injury.

Have your veterinarian perform a thorough “soundness” exam. Explain that the horse will be carrying extra weight and ask him or her to be especially thorough in his evaluation of the horses back structure and the suspensory ligaments in the legs.
Next, have a qualified farrier look at the horse's hooves. Be sure he watches the horse travel at a walk and in gait, moving straight and in a circle. The hoof should be balanced, as odd angles or heights increase the stress on his feet, legs and back. Many horses need to be shod to maintain a balanced foot, as they wear their hooves unevenly if left unshod.

Mount Kindly
Be sure you can mount a horse fairly quickly without hanging on the side of the horse or "plopping" down into the saddle. Any rider who gets their foot in the stirrup then struggles up the side of the horse, puts undue stress on the horse's shoulder and back. Use a stable mounting block when possible to reduce strain to the horse, however, don't consider it the ultimate answer. Unless you have a physical handicap that precludes it, for safety and convenience sake, you should be able to get on your horse.
Make sure you are mounting the horse correctly. DO NOT pull yourself into the saddle. Place your left foot into the stirrup, toes pointing towards the horse's head so as not to “jab” him in the side, push off on the right leg and raise yourself up in one smooth motion by straightening the left knee. Then swing your right leg over the horse’s rump and settle gently into the saddle.
To dismount slip both feet from the stirrups, turn in the saddle and hop down. This requires some finesse on your part, but is much easier on the horse’s back that pulling all your weight to one side as you climb down.

Improve Your Seat
A balanced seat means having your weight distributed equally on either side of the horse, while having your body aligned along the points of gravity. A plumb line dropped from your ear should intersect the point of your shoulder, the second sacral vertebrae, hip and ankle.

One of the easiest ways to adjust your leg position to keep the proper muscle groups of the inner thigh in contact with the saddle is to 'roll' your thighs. Sitting with the ball of your foot in the stirrup, reach down and grab the fleshiest part of the back of your thigh and pull it back and out. This rolls the flattest muscles of the inner thigh against the saddle resulting in a much more secure seat. If it feels uncomfortable at first, persevere. Your muscles are not used to being used properly and may protest. With practice you will find that the aches will go away and a more secure seat becomes easier to maintain.

Balance is Key
Proper balance dictates that you carry your weight evenly distributed through the buttocks and thighs. Do not carry excessive weight in the stirrup. An old Calvary rider that I was fortunate enough to have as a riding instructor when I was very young, stressed that the stirrup was not there for me to stand in. He said to visualize a raw egg placed between the bottom of my foot and the stirrup. Keep your stirrups without breaking the egg. Use this visualization the next time you ride; you might find that you place too much weight in your stirrups.

Stirrup length strongly affects balance. You cannot achieve a balanced seat if your stirrups are too long or too short. Allow your feet to hang out of the stirrups, then pretend you are Fred Flintstone. Yup. Remember how Fred stopped his car? He had to push his heels down and straight below him. Push your legs straight down, heel towards the ground, as if to touch it. The stirrups should hit you in the ankle bones, if not, adjust them.

Balance is the difference between a good rider and a poor one, a safe rider and one in peril. It is also the division between a horse comfortably carrying a heavier rider and a horse straining under the load. Make sure you have your weight evenly distributed from one side of the saddle to the other, sit straight (but relaxed) and keep your shoulders even. A dropped shoulder often means a more heavily weighted seatbone on the same side.

Weight and Gaited Horses
Often a heavier rider will cause a horse to become pacey. The extra weight causes the horse to ventroflex, pushing his back down and head up, a factor of the pace and to some extent at the rack (paso llano, tolt, paso corte, etc.). One trainer laments of a pacey horse which she had trained into a good fox trot for her owner, a fairly light weight man, only to see him give the horse to his wife, who outweighed him by a good 100 lbs. The extra weight coupled with the lack of expertise of the new rider, made the horse instantly revert to a hard pace.

One of the reasons people seek out gaited horses is that they think they are easier to ride. Often these are people who are injured, not very athletic or merely overweight. However, to get and keep, many horses in gait requires skill, flexibility and athleticism.

Texas!!

2011-12-29T21:13:00.002-05:00

No big news here, just wanted to stop by and thank all those who continue to read this blog and for your support and encouragement over these last months. Texas holds promise for a ride coming up and surprisingly enough, there are many, many, trails (real horse trails) through this urban jungle called Houston area. Very nice! I'm on the north end of Houston at the moment and will be looking more into a route that is going to suit Baby and me. I am getting motivated again to finish what this ole' girl started coming on FOUR years ago. Time will tell the story though.....but for now, it's just wait and see. No matter what happens, I think a nice jaunt through Texas sounds wonderful!!

Happy New Year to all and here's to the Best of Equestrian Travels in 2012!!

Timing is Everything - an Excerpt from A Novel

2011-12-22T19:37:00.001-05:00

Timing is Everything

I thought I saw her when Lisa and William were running into the general store. William came up to me and said, "Daddy, there are lots of horses out today. I saw a girl riding a horse." It's as though William thought that girls weren't allowed to ride horses. I reassured him that this wasn't as unusual as he thought it was. The horse looked strange, but the rider's silhouette didn't.

On the first day, there was a man at my book signing that came up to me and told me that he was a good friend of Rachel Stephenson's. I had mentioned in an interview along the way on television that I had stayed at Corkscrew Ranch which was part of the inspiration that helped me write Canon's at Dawn. He explained to me that he had been to Corkscrew Ranch as a guest. Apparently he was there right before I arrived and that he makes annual trips to fish the Talisman River regularly. The man told me that he saw that interview…loved my books…and came here to get a new copy signed since he lived here in town. He said that he wanted to personally give it to Rachel because he was going to travel there in a few weeks to fish on the Talisman for awhile. He thought that she would appreciate that. And believe me, I couldn't have had better timing.

He looked familiar to me for some reason. I'm not sure why. He just did. I took the copy of the book that he had and wrote on the inside, "to the one that I really love." I wrapped the book up in brown paper and taped it. I told the man that I didn't want him to read what I wrote to Rachel because it was a personal thank you for letting me come to enjoy the Ranch. He understood, took the copy of the book and went on his way back out of town.

On day two, I had a break in the book signing and the kids were getting hungry. By this time, I thought, Victoria was in New York doing great marketing things for Manus and the blazing sun on my face was amazingly bright.

I squinted my eyes against its glare as I walked down the street to the bed and breakfast to get the kids to go to lunch. As I got closer tothe B&B, Lisa and William were heading out the door. Perfect timing again…they saw this horse and a girl rider and went running toward them. I couldn't see because the sun was in my eyes and hollered after them to get back here. They stopped dead center in front of the girl and the horse. After a few moments, as I continued walking, they rode over to the convenient store. The horse almost got away from underneath it's rider which caused me to quicken my pace. She almost lost control. I thought to myself, "inexperienced riders need to be more careful…she could get really hurt." However, by this time, she had the horse tied off…was in and out of the store and gone. I could swear that the rider looks familiar to me. William and Lisa were already in the general store….and the nice thing about being a famous author in a small town that over the course of a few days, people get to trust you and you them. My kids were happy playing in the backyard with the owner's kids of the B&B and Pages and Parables Bookstore wouldn't open for another hour because they closed for lunch. I had a lot of time to wander around..and decided to take in some of the sights.

Cemeteries always fascinated me. From the time that I wrote Chaos the stone statues were like a refuge from life for me. I loved cemeteries because they always offered so much history about people. Cemetaries are a leaping off point for a future history lesson. In a cemetery you can see who died too young and too old. Always peaceful with birds chirping in thedaylight with memorial benches and sunlight drenched on marble stone that reflected the light. This is not a morbid hobby of mine – but they are fascinating to some degree. I discovered the solemn beauty of cemeteries when I wrote Chaos and how the contrast of the living and the dead mix together. To place a love story in the middle of a place like that I thought was an attractive concept that readers could visualize.

The Cemetery was at the end of the main street road. This town was very original in it's buildings…like an old west town that just changed people and businesses over the years. The population here was only 950…but Pages and Parables was a famous bookstore. I came here when I was little with my dad when he was writing some pretty good literature himself.

I knew a friend that bought some of the Pages and Parables Shakespeare plays in original manuscript that Yeats once had in his possession. I saw it all dusty and old. They went into Pages and Parables with the manuscript and set it on the table as they were going to the back room to get something. Meanwhile, the owner's dog knocked the book on the floor, sniffed it, turned in circles and ended up using it as toilet paper! My father was in shock, as was the owner of these priceless artifacts. I think the dog lived. They hurriedly soaked up as much as they could and took it home to dry out in the sun. Even Shakespeare's worst critics weren't that rude!

I thought of this as I walked with the sun in my eyes down to the cemetery gates. I wandered inside and was there for quite some time all by myself. I wandered through headstones and grave markers and started to learn about the names in town and was getting a history lesson when I stumbled across a headstone that more than caught my eye. The head stone said: Katherine Elizabeth Stephenson, Beloved Wife/Mother; 1948 – 1970.

Soft foot falls where coming up behind me. I was nervous and went on with my business in learning more about who the once living were. The foot falls became hoof like on the gravel road which paced around the quiet grounds. A horse, a rider and that was all. They stopped at Katherine's grave. I wasn't far away and then I said, "Rachel, you are going to be alright. I can feel it. Your mom probably misses you too." Rachel couldn't see me standing there for the sun was in her eyes this time. I was planning my entrance and then Mark (why was Mark here?) came running frantically down the gravel path into the cemetery waving his arms frantically. Mark sat down next to Rachel and took her hand. Tears were in his eyes.

Lynne had died.

Mark delivered the news…and he was a far cry from the serene bartender that I knew from Talisman Creek Lodge. He was rugged and handsome. Worn by the weather. Tired for some reason. Like he'd spent days on the river doing tours. Resigned to his duty to tell Rachel that Lynne had just died, she wanted him to leave her alone. He quietly walked away.

The dead among the living and the living among the dead. I'm not sure who was a statue in the cemetery that day. The dead seemed to have more life than the living because of the news that defeated a quiet moment trying to bridge the gap between family and loved ones who are deceased. Memories flooding heads and flowers planted into the ground trying to touch the past of others who have gone before. Rachel brought her mom a bouquet of flowers. But I can't believe that flowers would even begin to touch the emotion that she had about not having her mom with us, in the living flesh to hold her when she sneezed as a little girl. None the less…when a parent dies…even in death, by the gravesite, they still listen. Even in death, you are still their children. Even in death…they have life.

What expression should I wear? I still couldn't believe my eyes and the only thing I managed to say was, "how's thebiggest brown trough ever fished out of the Talisman River?" I didn't even know where to begin or what to say. Rachel was silent. All the emotion that I ever had for her welled up inside of me like the Mississippi in flood stages and still rising. With the way that Victoria and I had been getting along, I was surprised that I was feeling so much for her still.

Slowly and with intention and with some trepidation I wanted to touch her shoulders. He hair was being wisped around and stray strands were blowing across her face when she turned her head slightly to the left. A warm breeze from the north was setting in this late afternoon.

Rachel didn't need me to say anything. I glided up to her and slipped my hand into hers as I pulled out a folded piece ofpaper and gave it to her. I wrote it a long time ago. It was the book dedication that said, "this is dedicated to the one I really love. Her horse was grazing quietly as though he was watching my every move like he was her protector from harm.

I told her that she tortured my heart. I told her how I felt about her. I told her, "Oh my God! The book signing" Rachel, I gotta go! I will catch up to you later." I turned and ran away from her and told her out loud, "Rachel, I love you". She didn't hear me…she sat there involved in her own thoughts about her best friend. Maybe, I thought, I should just leave her alone forever.

All my speed couldn't get me back to the bookstore fast enough for the remainder of the afternoon. She got the best of me... again.

The rest of the afternoon dragged on. The connection was still there and the realization that the man who said he was a friend of Rachel's, I figured out, was really her father. The people in town at the signing knew all about C.W. Stephenson. The timing that day was still perfect.

****

Written 1997 - "The Way of the Dancing Nova" by M.C.G AKA Christine Rachel Bennet.

Lariat: 100 Horse Stories and Poems

2011-12-21T12:10:00.000-05:00

Artwork by Donna Howell Sickles
Title: "Rubie Leaves Lady Luck"
American Cowgirl Artist,Friend and Long Ride Host,
St. Jo, Texas: www.donnahowellsickles.com
Permission For Use Granted, Oct. 2010
Please visit her Online Gallery for Gifts

Lariat

Moments in time,
Leaving hoofprints and life at our back gate.
Not much with us,
Fierce wind
Facing outward
Carries a piece of hay away
Who was clinging to our shirt

Hanging the Lariat on the saddle
for "just in case" if we need to
Rope the circle of life

There are days
When the best
part of the ride
Is the racing, heart pounding Gallop
Hair Flying, eyes watering, Freezing Toes
on a Flying Horse

There are days when the slow poke
dance of Summer Heat
And the weight on our backs
Is what makes us slow

"That saddle feels heavier today
for some reason"
Hoisting it up one more time
One leg over
Leaving one more lifetime at the gate
Hanging our Lariats "just in case"

****
Mark and I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Donna at her Gallery in St. Jo Texas. We had seen much of her work all over Oklahoma. Just as a coincidence, she was on our route and we paid a visit to her studio. She set up our hosts with the mayor in St. Jo. Many a long rider has passed through there on US 82 (LRG members and non-members). Her gallery is one block off the famous Chisholm Trail and St. Jo has a rich history of cattlemen, cowboys and cowgirls who carved out that part of North Central Texas. Brilliant lady and she is as much the cowgirl as her artwork embodies. Please look up her gallery on facebook at well at http://www.facebook.com/themainstreetgallery

Roses and Fish

2011-12-20T18:41:00.000-05:00

"“Put a rose in a sack of fish and soon the rose will start to stink too. Be careful of the company you keep.” – The 17th Karmapa Urgyen Trinley Dorje

I love this quote! Are you the friend who is the rose being the fragrance of the earth or are you the rotten fish? Are your friends really your friends? Are they supporting and enhancing your life or are they teaching you to think and behave in darker ways that you never thought you would?

The company you keep is so important. They will change you in more ways than you know. Eventually, and inadvertently, you will mimic their behavior, words, and even physical gestures. We spend hours online with friends, on the phone, face to face and in professional circles with friends who indirectly influence us. Your friends are the most subversive influential group of people in your life next to the people who raised you (i.e. parents) and perhaps your romantic life partner. This is why we have to watch the company we keep.

I find friendships to be miraculously healing on many levels. I have mutually agreeable relationships with friends where we can come to each other in times of amazing joy, deep sorrow, for fun, to bounce ideas around and extend copious amounts of infiniate grace to one another. In my friendships, we have the freedom to hold each other accountable..and sometimes very directly at times. For those of you who are my friends, I want to thank you for having the relationship we have with one another. I have friends in which we share a natural sister and brother like connection with on a soul level and I am blessed with friends of mine who are like family as well.

In life, however, we all have choices. And in these choices we have friends who we may outgrow or cut out of our lives when we feel they are no longer an emotionally healthy choice for us to continue down a relationship path. I am a huge advocate for healthy relationships in all aspects of emotionally living well and with meaningfulness. I extend grace to all my friends past and present. I know people who are VERY unhealthy, some who even are emotionally dangerous for me, some who are diagnosible crazy who I still really care about --- but you won't catch me buddying up to them and being close friends with them at all anymore..

A healthy relationship should bring more happiness than stress into your life. Every relationship will have stress at times, but you want to prevent prolonged mental stress on either member of the relationship. This tension is unhealthy for both members and may lead to problems in other areas of your life.

Here's a life story I want to share with you that taught me a very valuable life lesson.

Back at the end of 2007, I had a sister like connection with someone I respected, trusted and even admired. We had many things in common and were able to spend a considerable amount of time together under the same roof. We got to know each other's quirks, dreams, desires and those little things that both annoyed us...but we were ok with pushing past it. That relationship blew up and the very last day that I saw her, she exploded on me in a rage and told me I was a 'fraud and "a liar" and all sorts of other things that really left me wondering what I did to deserve that kind of treatment.

That experience was one of the most valuable learning experiences I have had in my life.

You know why???

Because she was right! In MANY ways but not in ALL ways.

I was transparent to her and she was transparent to me. She and I saw through each other's pain (and Bullcrap!) so well that we ran each other off as friends. I can't say that she was 100% correct ...but I can say about 90% of it was the truth coming from her perception of me. She and I both hurled insults at each other saying to one another we were both crazy, insane, emotionally unwell and a litany of other terminology that is best saved for a therapist's couch! I tried to change her mind, she tried to change mine. It got worse...we parted company to never speak again because of our inability to take what we were saying into consideration for each other.

The bottom line is: she made me realize those aspects were in my character more than I thought they were and I couldn't admit it!

It took a few years to dig down deeper into myself to evaluate her opinion of me...which was truth to a large extent. I questioned myself, "Could she be right about me and her perspective of me". I finally got myself together enough to own those aspects and emotionally grow and move forward: leaving emotional unwellness in my past. It's like I was a snake that shed an old skin. I left that old nasty skin behind for something more healthy!

Everytime we have a friend in our life who has a certain perspective about us, that is hard to take (especially when they tell us such things and then disappear out of our lives forever in anger).

I look at it, though, as a great opportunity to become introspective about ourselves and question our reality if what that other person is saying is really true. Practicing personal emotional accountability and behaving in an emotionally mature fashion is a key to living authentically.

The "accused" (for lack of a better term) is wasting their time if they try to change their accusers mind! This person who has a certain opinion of you has an emotional right to feel that way!

People seem to forget that they cannot control people, places, or things. The only thing a person can do and control from that point onward is themselves: concentrating on self improvement is the best action plan going forward!

I understand what it's like to be on the other end of the stick when a person says I am "bad", "awful", "horrible" and a "fraud". I have been on the receiving end of all these messages but I deal with it differently than I used to in my past.

The first question I ask myself after my hurt feelings subside is: "is there truth to what this person believes about me". Second, I then seek higher awareness of myself with keen intent to change it if their assumptions are even the slightest bit valid.

If an individuals has truth in our own hearts and can back it up with facts, it doesn't matter what our friends think about a situation. BUT if a person is accused of something, I encourage them to give it some thought: NO MATTER WHAT. It might help us become better people in the long run.

With all this talk about unhealthy friendship and introspection on their opinions, the natural reaction is not wanting to give up on your friends, right? Good. That is normal. It shows you have a heart.

Only you can decide if these people are worth adopting their habits, their slang, their language or the way they gossip about other people. It's up to you if you want to adapt and adopt their positive outlook, grace and other positives that make your life better.

Or ~~~ you can sit down quietly and dig into yourself with intent for more insight into living emotionally well, own up to the reality they may be speaking truth and go on living a better life by gaining self awareness.

Sometimes sacrficing friends or those friends who leave you for what you feel is "no apparent reason" can be a heartbreaker...but on the other hand, in many cases I see it as a blessing in disguise.

These views are wholly the views of the author of this blog and are not meant to intentionally harm or offend those who may miss the message.

Face to Face to Facebook???

2011-12-17T02:29:00.000-05:00

Version 1 - Revised editions forthcoming..

Words. They are the means in which we relay everything to one another.

Hostility appears to be growing world-wide in virtual forums where face to face interaction occurs less and less and words represent our character "in action" instead of "in deed". We can choose not to interact in cyberspace, but if we do, our choosing to do so comes with our words only...and becoming void of face-to-face action in everyday life.

One time, for my first master's I wrote a hypothesis that relationships can meaningfully form and others can be intimately connected in an online learning environment or any other cyber environment also known as Computer Medicated Communication (CMC). That theory, even though not very well accepted at the time I presented it to a leary faculty of instructors...it was considered in some ways "hogwash" by academicians upon my defense of my thesis. Overtime, however, this theory of mine has proven itself true more so than ever.

Consider this, in 1350 A.D, there were 370 million people in the world and today there are 800 million Facebook users online who have an account interacting in cyberspace to some degree. Today's world population is approximately 7 billion according to a BBC report given on the news in October, 2011. SEVEN BILLION.

That means if there were 2 people in the world, essentially one person would have a computer and that same person would have a Facebook account.

What does this mean psychologically for individuals who are more communicative in cyberspace than face-to-face? Over time, social networking has replaced the telephone and research indicates from a Plymouth University study that "cyberspace users were found to be more lonely and socially anxious, and more likely to disclose their ‘real-self’ through cyberspace than via face-to-face."

This has produced a model of behavior where individuals were not able to locate their authentic selves - of the locus of their souls - and mediated negatively between the loneliness and social anxiety measures and the impact of these on relational outcomes.

One in eight couples who meet online, get married. These sites specifically focused on finding a partner have a different impact than those sites who exist and focus on maintaining a network of friends.

MySpace, Friendster and now Facebook have proliferated social networking to the next level of relationship development. Some of which isn't that positive for well being either.

Unfortunately there is little research completed with a wide enough sample to substantiate a full range perspective on the negative long term effects of social networking that focus on maintaining friendships, etc.

The biggest danger of social networking is the tendency to trigger isolating behaviours. Biological and chemical changes ensue according to several studies completed in the medical fields regarding neurological changes from using social networking sites like Facebook.

Isolating behaviours then trigger and "fool" the immune system, change the way genes work, confusing the immune response, hormone levels, arterial function, and damage to mental performance. This is indeed contradicts the aim of the establishment of social networking sites, where users promised hereafter to be able to find old friends and network and "keep up" easier in a social realm.

The average facebook user has 130 friends according to Facebook's statistics. What can this mean long term?

The user may eventually be drawn into an artificial world. Someone who’s friends are mainly individuals who are just found on Facebook eventually will find it difficult to communicate "face-to-face". This behavior can increase the risk of serious health issues, such as cancer, stroke, heart disease, and dementia (senility), according to Dr Aric Sigman in The Biologist, in the journal article released by The Institute of Biology.

Not meeting is face-to-face has an effect on the body that are not visible when sending e-mail. Levels of hormones such as oxytocin which encourages people to hug or interact with each other often change, several genes, including genes related to immune system and response to stress, act differently, depending on how often a person does social interaction with others.

Also, according to Dr. Sigman, "The electronic media is slowly destroying the ability of children and young adults to learn social skills and reading body language. “

What about expressing opinion in an online forum or Facebook?

Back in 1997, I had the pleasure or developing the 4th in the World Online Master's Degree Program in Economics for an accredited University in the United States. A few years later, I had also had the opportunity to be the "cyber-police" for an international online dating site and then owned an online dating site of my own for a little while. In 1997, the word "flaming" didn't exist in the context of intentionally hurting people with words in virtual environments. By the time I owned the online dating site, we had to put numerous "rules" in place about flaming.

For those of you who do not know what flaming is... Flaming, is by definition... (and a good one has been posted in Wikipedia) a hostile and insulting interaction between Internet users.

What has developed over time is what psychologists call the "Online Disinhibition Effect" or "ODE". ODE refers to the behaviour people exhibit in cyberspace environments with less restraint than the real world. By no means is this going to be a part of the DSM- V (The Diagnostician Manual for Psychologists) anytime soon, but I feel that we all can relate to this effect to a large extent.

The "You don't know me face to face" in cyberspace offers protection to virtual users. Protection and anonymity can be helpful for those who just want to lurk and listen and this kind of protection can provide a meaningful release for people in that they feel free to say things they might otherwise be embarrassed to, but by the same token, it also provides an outlet for behaviours that others might term antisocial or harmful.

And what happens when other's can't see you face to face as you sit there in front of your computer??? Doesn't it make it much easier to lower your inhibitions than if you were standing face to face with someone you wanted to communicate with about something unpleasant?

Remember the Regular Post and sending letters to one another.. This is the same thing but now larger than life. In high school, I remember writing letters to people that I didn't want to talk to face to face and avoid them like the plague! I broke up with boys via letters, talked to my best friends via notes in school and passed notes like a fiend - many times because I was too chicken to confront them face to face to tell them my true feelings!

Nothing has changed with this concept. But it has been grown exponentially with the advent of Social Networking. The danger of Social Networking and this idea is that the author of asynchronous post allows that post to "soak" and "sink in" with their audience. Because of this, it's easier for someone to "throw their opinions out" and then leave; a person can make a single post that might be considered very personal, emotionally charged, or inflammatory and then "run away" by simply not logging in again. In this way, the person achieves catharsis by "voicing" their feelings, even if the audience is just as invisible.

It allows any receiver of that post to "mull it over", have it "sink in", and read it over and over again until it grows into a perceived reality in a person's mind.

Unfortunately, as I have said many times before, you can't suck the toothpaste back into the tube! What's said is said! AMEN! How many times have you clicked "send" or posted something that you are not able to take back and reaped negative consequences for it?? Thank goodness for "delete post" on Facebook, right?

Even more dangerous is assigning imagined identity to a person in a virtual environment. Reading another person's message may insert imagined images of what a person looks like or sounds like into the mind, and mentally assigns an identity to these things. Before you ever see a person's picture or meet them face to face, how many times have you said, "That person seems like they are tall, short, fat, skinny, brown headed or bald?"

The implication seems rather clear and ultimately can result in cyber-bullying or even cyber-stalking from lowering restraint due to lack of eyeball-to-eyeball communication!

I also have had the extreme DISPLEASURE of a cyberstalker for three years in my past. Before cyber laws and my volunteer stint with the CyberCrime Units in Colorado, cyber-bullying and cyberstalking laws were not prominent of considered of any value (or cyberstalking was not considered harmful) to individuals who were harassed online.

Eventually, laws have been realized and implemented for protection of individuals about these types of virtual harassment.

According to Norman H. Holland, “people regress,” when communicating online, because, among other reasons, the physical distance from other users and the inability to interpret body language and physical reactions results in a lack of direct feedback.^[9]

All of this rhetoric and why? We have become a virtual social networking world where CMC is a necessary part of life. So what can we do to make our exchanges in cyberspace health and positive and effectively communicate out thoughts, feelings and project our real selves as we communicate???

Whether you like it or not..be ready and accept the fact that there is bajillion amounts of small talk. About the weather, the color of a person's dog, my hair (like tonight), the peas that burnt on the stove and things like that. Focus on commonalities in small talk when starting to form relationships with one another. Be authentic and real with yourself. Good online communicators will intuit your authenticity.
Be clear, be direct, be concise. When I taught Business Communication at the Undergraduate leve... I often told me students this motto, "Get in, get out and get going". Be efficient but kind in your words. Humour and sarcasm often get lost in the translation in virtual environments...as does meaning. Write your posts on a separate page first and read them a few times before posting if you are not sure about how it will be interpreted.
Make a person feel comfortable online. Break out of the awkwardness and compliment and encourage others often to post how they feel postively. If they unintentionally offend you, private message them and request a conversation or chat session of possible to clear the air. RESIST THE URGE TO FLAME THEM.
Respectfully disagree if you have to disagree on something. Disagreeing with someone is MUCH better done in private than on a comment string. Be respectful and take disagreements OFF LINE and INTO THE PRIVATE REALM.
Just like we don't want people to drink and drive. Don't social network under the influence! I don't think I have to go into the reasons why that is the case. Ever wake up with a social network hangover? Not pretty-- AT ALL!

Those are just a few things to remember...and they are all common knowledge pretty much.

Bottom line.. the world has changed the way we communicate. Good or bad we are an entire world made up of Facebook...and it's your choice how you choose to communicate there.

Let's just say it's time we all SET the example instead of being the example those studies warn us about!

Over and out..from THIS virtual environment.....

Happy Trails..and I'll be virtually seeing all of you around - (TM)

several excerpts have been taken my from '"Creating Connection Online" thesis - Written Sept, 1999-May, 2000.

What a Piano Has to do with Equestrian Travel

2011-12-15T15:37:00.002-05:00

There was a whole 'nother way of living for me before horses graced themselves into my life. I was a musician first and foremost.

By the age of 3 or 4, I remember distinctly being asked to whistle Jingle Bells on the way home from church near Christmas time. I was wearing a brown tweed plaid (with red) jumpsuit, tights that were way uncomfortable and was sitting between my parents on the bench seat of our 1970's model station wagon...which also matched my jumpsuit. My mom asked me, whistle jingle bells again. I did. She turned to my dad with a raised eye brow and asked me to whistle silent night. I did.

We had a little toy Magnus Organ with only 16 keys (two octaves) that I was already playing when they asked me to start whistling Christmas carols. I could already play five Christmas Carols all from memory without sheet music or knowing how to read sheet music. My parents looked at each other and said, "I think we should get an full Organ for her to play,"

On June 6, 1971, at the age of 3 years old a Lowery Organ arrived at my house. A full sized Lowery organ with presets and all. I couldn't hardly even reach the pedals until I was 6... I looked like a Spider playing this thing. The first song where I learned to read sheet music was "The Entertainer, Theme from The Sting". I performed it to a group of 200 people at the age of 7.

By the age of 7 or 8, I was awarded the Young Composers Award by Eastern Illnois University and was writing short classical pieces on my own. Two hands only. Music was my life.

Somewhere in those youngster years, I had the chance to take riding lessons for three weeks at a time with the park district in the summer for three years in a row. I begged my mother to let me take extended stays with relatives who had horses.

My first solo ride atop a horse was at the age of 10, on a horse named Dolly on a farm in Iowa. Loved that horse and rode for two hours one day "trying to make her do what I wanted". The same summer, I ate soybeans and dirt for lunch after going bareback and nothing but mane and tail on a pony named Johnny. I lost my balance when I kicked him up into a dead run..and came off into the dirt which was my first "unscheduled dismount" from a horse. I laughed my head off about it but got right back on! I forgot about horses.

By the age of 14 I was considered gifted in music and headed for music performance. High School was rough for me emotionally and my musicianship and playing ability suffered. I even tried to quit playing and couldn't. I was accepted to Berklee School of Music as I thought Julliard was too stuck up for me. I was awarded scholarships all over the country for tuition and attended college for music performance for classical organ and classical piano. I turned down great music schools because they were too far away from home. I attended Monmouth College... which was my mom's hometown and I claim that as my hometown to this day.

I was a musician first, gigging in fancy hotels, private parties and by the age of 19 had the ability to be somewhat multi-instrumental: had performed at least hundres of times and competed successfully...as... yep.. a Xylophone and Vibe player. Jazz, in fact!

At the age of 21, a boyfriend's mother started to teach me about horses. At 22, I started to lease a horse named Dreamwind Naja. She was a Rocky Mountain Horse... and very kind to me. The gal who owned her took me under her wing and taught me the basics. And the boyfriend, he turned out to be abusive, so I turned to horses to comfort me and that is when my passion for horses began to develop. I always had it, but had no idea it ran so deep.

Then a blessing struck... I became an amputee and lost two fingers on my right hand in a car accident when I turned 24. And here is the rest of my story....and how it relates to becoming an equestrian traveler.

The sound is sketchy so bare with it. It's in two parts. Both parts are a total 12 minutes long. I hope you watch it all the way through. It hard to believe that 687 people have watched this!

Many of you have seen this....some of you have not. But this is how I feel about never giving up on doing the things you love the most..and how an eight fingered pianist like me has found blessings in tragedy and gratefulness in every day life.

I love David, my friend here, who tells my story. I'm not feeling like I inspire anyone at all...I am just me.. a musician and an equestrian...and nothing more.

Taking a step back is great to regroup, even discouragement is ok... but don't ever give up. I hope that through my recent discouragement I can start over anew and get back on a horse to ride 1000 miles once and for all because I can't see myself EVER giving up on what I love to do the most... and fulfilling a dream of riding a horse across the country for 1000 miles...or perhaps more.

Part 1: http://youtu.be/e_F2O17E49s

Part 2: http://youtu.be/ZSuKo_Tv7Jc

I apologize in advance if this offends anyone in my audience...that is not my intention what so ever. I also apologize in advance for typos...and when I catch them, I will fix it. These views are wholly the views of the author of this blog and are not meant to intentionally harm or offend those who may miss the message. It's sad that I feel I had to state this... but think I will from now on.

Give me Something to Believe In

2011-12-13T13:08:00.001-05:00

In the last few days, I feel like I have been bullied, shamed, ridiculed, made fun of, stomped on and and inadvertently made to feel worthless for standing up for what I believe in and for an organization who believes in me. I often wondered if had a gun to my head, would I denounce what I believe in? Would you? Would you take a bullet for what you believe in? Be it your faith, your beliefs, your way of going about life? I am proud to say that I have stood up for something I believe in...and it's for the good of the world too...and took a pretty hard emotional bullet for it and I'd do it all over again in a minute...

My equestrian journey just doesn't involve being in a saddle with my horse out there alone riding the horizon. Riding, in many ways, is the easiest part of the journey. Enjoying 3 miles an hour (or 4, if on a gaited horse) atop of a comfy saddle is easy compared to when it comes time to unsaddle, set up camp, and step down out of the saddle.

Stepping out of the saddle, there's time for to think, reflect, grow and complete my journey right here as I type in my living room. I try to put words to the experience of a long distance equestrian journey as members of the Guild know that with a long ride, words just don' t seem to encompass the reality a ride expresses as it becomes an entity of it's own. I fail at doing so too even though my miles are not consecutively significant... The personal transformation after stepping down out of the saddle is just another aspect of it...it 's a bittersweet aspect of it, it's the end of it. But is it really the end?

The other day, I was talking with someone who rode coast to coast from California to New Hampshire in an email. After the conclusion of a long equestrian horse journey, people forget seem to forget that us equestrian travellers and the messages we leave behind.

Over the 1100 in-consecutive miles I have ridden with my horse across the United States, many times people give me a "uh-huh" and a small acknowledgement of this feat. Believe me, I am not a fame or fortune hunter.. NOT AT ALL. But I mention that because people need so much hope in this broken world, they jump on the next adventure of hope that comes along and slough off and forget the world of hope we have created for them. We are so grateful for them...as they push us forward, mile after mile and day after day. These hope-givers like us.. feel like we have been abandoned each other perhaps. But I do know one thing where do we adventurers draw our own hope and encouragement when we give it so frequently when we can't find it in ourselves. She said to me, "I don't talk about my ride anymore for the fear of "uh-huh".

That tells me this world is still SO BROKEN and so hurt by it's own self that we need to journey like this by horse MORE OFTEN to remember how we are grounded to ourselves in our world in the first place.

My equestrian journey never stops as it is through horses that I connect with people. And being around horses, I try to understand life through their perspective -- and I fall so short of their grace and forgiveness that I embarrass myself many times.

So that brings me back to .. would you take a bullet for what you believe in??? I would..because I know that some of those things I believe in (and others would agree) really have the potential to save the world....

******

Centaur

2011-12-02T21:03:00.001-05:00

Centaur

When we ride The Sky in Wintertime

On horses breath

Crystallizes like

Hoary Frost on a leaf

Catching Snowflakes on

their Equine Eyelashes

We Experience Cold Human Toes

Falling and rocking

Rising and leather

Underneath Us

Silence of

Footfalls in the snow
Creaky saddles

Stiff Bridles

and Cold Noses

Together on any Path

We seek

Riding our horses

Hearts Open We

Forget Where We Are

They Whisper earth's secrets

Into our ears

They, not us, who bring us

To brilliance and

One with the edge of

becoming

Centaur

M.C.D.-12.2.11

The Journey - Mary Oliver Modified

2011-11-29T16:09:00.001-05:00

The Journey

One day you finally knew what you had to do

and began,

though the voices around you
kept shouting
their advice - - -
the whole lot of them
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
'Mend my life for me for you cannot leave us now!'
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations - - -
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you rode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you knew how to do
and save the only life you knew as your own

Each turn as the sky burned off the fog
Each beat on the pavement
The Stars shone through blazing hot
in the night sky
Coffee, Rice, Saddle, Bridle

I wanted the past to go away,
I wanted to leave it, like another country;
I wanted my life to close, and open
like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song
where it falls
down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;

I wanted to hurry into the work of my life;
I wanted to know,whoever I was,
I was alive for a little while
and I know now that out here, I truly am...

Over and Out

2011-11-25T19:26:00.001-05:00

It's taken a few weeks to figure out what's next on this great adventure and long ride. Always stepping away for a few weeks and returning to it has been a good thing. As the last few weeks have worn on, my allergy to a horrendous fire ant subsiding and Sophie still not wanting to go out and do this ride anymore, all I can say that is that I am getting past the feelings of embarrassment.

It was the shortest attempt to date that I have ever made. And the miles attempted will only be known to those who are local who helped me get back home safely.

There are long riders all over the world who have made several attempts before reaching that illusive 1000 mile marker by horse. Eventually, many get there. Some ride almost all the way and get halted at the 700-800 mile marker and many others who make a ride and have considerable miles under their horses hooves before being halted for whatever reason.

But because I was only three days into it the disappointment was not as deep as it could have been like it was in 2009 when I was halted at the 400+ mile marker on Eve. Few set out though and I should be happy with even trying - but I'm not.

But enough about the past, as that is done, all I can do is stay in the moment and look forward and I am trying to do that.

Sophie is just fine in her own right and happy to be a "local around the neighborhood horse". It was for this reason that I have been through a variety of long riding horses in the last three years and have not attempted a ride with her before. Seeming that our relationship deepened and she showed great promise out by ourselves over the last three years (and was able to carry my weight), I thought I would give her a try. But still at her core, I cannot change who she is..and not do I want to force my agenda on her. Because my agenda is not her agenda. MY HORSE is always first as she should be. Forcing her to do something she hates would make a very hard long ride that much more difficult. Who wants to fight with a horse for 1000 miles or more? I know I don't! Horses change, just like people do. I am ok with that.

Will I ever take out to a long ride ever again? I have no idea. Is the yearning for the road still there? Absolutely! However, I am making no promises, no claims, no proclamations...and not saying a word if I ever take to the road again. I can say this, for right now... I am feeling almost completely "out of try".

I just hope that I haven't disappointed those who have helped me so much over the past years. I feel the worst about disappointing them and all the hundreds of hours they have put into my ride with equipment, gear, support, advice, wisdom, cheerleading, warmth, grace, humanity and humour. I can't thank all of you enough out there who have put their lives on hold to help me figure this out... what we thought was once and for all!

One feeling I am having a hard time fighting and I am still processing is....maybe I'm just not good enough to become a Long Rider..... I don't say this out of pity or feeling sorry for myself, I say this because I just feel that way. I certainly wouldn't blame all of those who have helped me give it this best shot to dust of their feet and leave me behind.

In the past, I have had my adversaries say, "you will never make it one more mile, Megan". Well, I've made many more miles...but in some ways, this is true. I probably won't make it one more mile...not without some serious reflection and support to continue.

So for now, Buffalo Moon Expedition 2011 is now over. Perhaps 2012 will bring something new and refreshing...a different route...and perhaps a horse (and no allergic reactions) that will carry me the whole way.

I remain hopeful...even though I am out of try.

Love to all of you....and thank you for everything.

Stay tuned for shorter rides for the rest of the season... I'm still exploring the US by horse...just not quite so far!

If She Only Were a Different Horse

2011-11-16T14:39:00.001-05:00

If She Only Were a Different Horse

I have had some horses
Who eyes where like freight trains
Coming at you from
A Place of Darkness
Who where trying to find themselves again

I have had some horses
Whose brown full manes and tails
Whipped in the Wind
Whose spirit of pride
Made them beautiful
And they knew it

I have had some horses
Who would just lay their heads
On your shoulder when you needed a friend
Silently calling out to you that it's going to be ok

I have had some horses
Whose nostrils flared
Fire furnaces whose
Stillness never came
Frenzied chaos not wanting only but their own desires.

But I have had this horse
Whose Every Ear Flick,
Tail Swish, Roll, lick and chew of her tongue
Was a deeply connected signal to me
In knowingness, gentleness and understanding

But I have had this horse
Who quietly took people
3 to 93
As a passenger and gave them wings
To their future
As their therapist to conquer fear

But I have had this horse who
Went close to 600 miles
With me
Flawlessly through
Several Counties
Miles Wide
And Several People Deep
Changing her surroundings everyday
And taking it all in stride, fearless, confident, purposeful

But I have had this horse
Who has grown into her own person
Who still decided to want
To be with me
In her world

But I have had this horse
Who decided it was time
Time to do different things
Time to take me to other places
Except down the road.

If She Only Were a Different Horse
Maybe I would understand
Or figure it out

But I have had THIS horse
This horse who tells me so clearly
Her needs, wants, desires and
Tells me, still, that even though
She wants to take me to other places
That it's still going to be ok

I want to thank this horse
Who I have had for
Telling me
This is not what she wants to do
So the two of us
Can Achieve Greater Things

I will love this horse for
Who she is
Not who I think she should be
For my agenda is not her agenda
And my greatest respect goes out to her

I want to thank this horse for
Just being herself
For being Honest and a real friend.
For true friends tell you what you need to hear
Not what you think they want you to hear

I want to thank this horse for
Our future together for it is she

Who has had some humans.

- MCDube11162011- Copyright

Life Stories - Day 2 - Rest Day

2011-11-14T16:03:00.001-05:00

Mr. Boudreaux works at Cowboy's Western Wear in Lafayette, Louisiana. He has been sober for 22 years and counting. He is 68 years old and you can tell he has the "joie de vivre". With his untucked blue button down shirt and crooked friendly smile, he worse his Pro Bull Rodeo hat proudly. He said his daughter's second husband was "a keeper" but the first one "was a doozie".

Mr. Boudreaux said to me, "Those fit perfect. Nice light color which will keep you cooler in this hot sun riding down the road."

"Where ya riding to," he said.

I said, "Alabama and back to New Iberia."

He looked at me sorta funny and said, "You seem serious, young lady, those will do just fine."

My brand new light colored chaps have fringe on them, they cover me where I need covering and give me stick on the saddle where I need it.

Mr Boudreaux had broken 19 bones in is body from his bull riding days. He asked if I was a team roper and lost my index and middle finger from dallying a cow or trying to tie a cow off. I said, "No sir, a drunk driver turned into me."

That's when he told me about being "a recovering drunk for the last 22 years." He went on to tell me about the charity events and money their Alcoholics Anonymous group had raised just recently to give back to the community. He had a glint in his eye and coffee in his hands, black I think.

Rest days "to do" lists on long rides are a mile long and I had much to do today. But my heart said,"Megan, don't get in too much of a hurry, let Mr. Boudreaux tell his life story."

Then it came out of his mouth, "You know gal, life is all about other's people stories and we both have one." He chuckled after he said this half serious to see if I "got it".

Oh yes, Mr. Boudreaux, I completely understand.

*****

Part II - Louella

I called Louella M. She is riding day three host and she has a place for me and a place for Sophie across the street. Winding my way back down the Teche River I made good on my promise to stop by today, Monday, to visit her.

Louella greeted me at the door in her hot pink flowered shirt, hair done and neat with a great big smile and huge hug. I had already spoken to her several times in the last few days. She was expecting me. Her house was a peaceful haven and a beautiful sanctuary and mostly an amazing testimony to her life, her kids and her family and her devotion to God and Jesus Christ. Peace washed over me after I entered her house and I knew from the second I met her that our time together would be very meaningfully enriching. I arrived a stranger and left her house as family today.

"I've never met a stranger," Louella said.

We ventured out to her back porch and sat and started sharing life stories together. We laughed, smiled, teared up and shared our hearts for the better part of an hour. Then a hawk over head came flying by.

Louella told me about her heritage. Her great grand parents were deported from Nova Scotia after being deported. She said, "Catahoula is where many of us settled after being deported."

Louella speaks four different dialects of french: Creole, Haitian, Parisian and cajun. Cute as a button she interjects Franglais phrases into her conversation. What a joy she was to listen. My heart told me to be still and just listen. So I did.

"See that hawk," she asked, "It means I have to tell you something."

What unfolded was a story about how she discovered her husband was a part of the Attakapas (Pronounced attack-a-pa) Tribe and how much of an exquisite Native American animal tracker he was. After he passed away, groups of hawks started showing up in her yard. Hawks are birds who usually fly alone. Her story revealed a series of spiritual events that gave her re-assurance that she was never alone and that her husband's love surpassed death. She caretook him for 16 years before his passing. She says that he is always with her and whenever she sees a hawk, that is her reminder of him.

I asked her if she had ever heard of Native American Hawk Medicine. The Hawk as a spirit animal tells us this: Hawks are visionaries and messengers. As a totem they help to open the higher chakras so that we may hear and see the visions and messages that Spirit and the Universe are always sending our way. There is never a moment when the Universe is not trying to get a message through to us but we are so often too busy or unaware of what it is we need to be watching for! Hawk helps us to not only be aware that we are receiving a message but how to interpret them. The realm of symbols is also the realm of Hawk--- for Hawk is able to soar high above the earth to soar on the breath of Spirit, to commune with Spirit and thus understand through the intuitive level what the message means and with their keen eyesight, how to implement it once they return to earth through seeing the broader picture below. (1)

There is no doubt in my mind that Louella was a messenger for me from a higher power. She has the strength and inner beauty that pours out of her like a giant radiant light all around her. God is with her in every step.

"Every day," she says, "I know that I can give the gift of light and love and that is what I am here for."

In kindness, I offered to help her out in some way. She raised her index finger and shook it side to side at me and said in her french accent, "Auh-ha...there will be none of that here. This is our community's gift to you. You have brought me a gift and the least I can do is give my hospitality back to you."

Sophie's accommodations are outstanding! Carl D. is across the street and he is getting out of the race horse business. He has one horse left. Sophie will help keep this last mare company out there. Carl still owns and manages Carl's Seafood and Crawfish. He's even on the map!

Sophie will have her own stall, feed and alfalfa to dine on...she will be 50-100 yards from me. I hope to meet Carl's wife Melba when I arrive. Carl owned some really great racing Thoroughbreds and it seems that everyone knows Sophie's grandfather around here. I will be at ease with Sophie at Carl's place and hope to at least help out and bring some hay over there somehow by then...

I will arrive at Louella's place on Wednesday. Rest Day Thursday. And on Friday morning, Patsy, Helen, Carl, Melba and their Pastor and the reporter from the Teche News will "Il sont partir avec une benediction" (see me off with a Blessing and a News Story)! Imagine that...

Actually, no Louella, it is you and your people there in Catahoula who are the blessing to me.....and what a blessing that I have Bambie to have found Louella to start me off with such wonderful people. I am grateful to you all.

Now, if only the rain holds until I am done riding tomorrow to Marcy's place.... home of Old Lee and another miracle.... But that's a true story for the next blog entry.

To be continued...

End Notes: (1) morningstar.netfirms.com/hawktotem.html

Launch: Day 1, Buffalo Moon Expedition 2011

2011-11-13T11:42:00.001-05:00

Like the four times before ,today was no different. Somehow deep within me that need to be on the road with Sophie heading into the unknown was familiar.

I had the comfort and pleasure of having Mark with me and his horse Baby. Several people were milling around the barn upon departure. Their murmurs about what we were up to went up into the windy sky as horses in paddocks were frisky from cool air.

Marcia got the gate for us and on down the road we went. Baby confidently first and then Sophie-- who was having a hard time leaving her friends at first. The girls settled in with us as passengers and before long we were a mile down the road.

Right now its Cane Harvest season. The International Harvesters with two-up cane wagons wobbling, rickety, slamming metal parts were sauntering down roads as they each  passed us with care. The girls didn't flinch but once or twice from them and bravely travelled forward.

Relaxing as we journeyed down the road but riding attentively we safely made it into Loreauville. Then....

The See Thru Grated Bridge Monster arose from the bayou before our very eyes.

As you can see from the picture what this monster really was. This was the only place where traffic can cross The Bayou Teche for 12 miles making for a steady stream of 25 mph cars, cane wagons and even a few UHaul Moving trucks passing by. Hitting the grate on the bridge was giant moaning of metal against steel each time traffic crossed. Knowing our horses as well as we do, we anticipated this bridge for weeks knowing it was going to be a challenge.

We tried riding across. No go. We let cars pass as much as we could. The bridge traffic were very patient and easy as they went by at a crawl. The bridge would let out another groan causing our horses to reel back in fear.

Two hours pass.

Bart Doucet, an ex jockey with an intuitive sense for horses stopped to ask if we needed a hand. Blinders were his solution and on they went.

Baby first. Mark backed Baby over the bridge and once she got moving it was clank clank clank ..."back up Baby, atta girl, keep going, good girl" all the way to the other side. Traffic was stopped. Piled 5 deep on each side.

When her last hoof came off the bridge, the passengers now out of their cars let out a big cheer knowing horses just don't cross see thru bridges! Many were horse owners who said I've never seen a horse do that....ever.

Sophie was next and more difficult. Set in her ways as a 10 year old we built up an even larger audience than before.

She froze in the middle of it all. Locked up. Shut down. Done. Her trust in us was all there and we didn't give up on her. We picked each hoof up one at a time a placed it forward some.

Slow but sure as passengers in awe watched Bart, Mark and me encourage and lead this Louisiana ex racing Thoroughbred over. Traffic was now piled 9 deep on each side.They didn't seem to mind the wait ...as it appeared they **wanted** to wait just to see a horse do the impossible.

The locals said that it had been years since a horse had crossed this without any trouble.

Clanking one step at a time for what seemed like an hour as this bridge became the stage for some Saturday afternoon Entertainment the final act concluded, the last hoof hit the other side of the pavement and the crowds totalling about 15 people who were gathered on the bridge, on the banks of the Teche and folks watching from their homes gave us a standing ovation with cheers, woots, and hollers!

Bart, Baby, Sophie, Mark and me visited for a few minutes afterward. He had a horse sense that connected him easily with Sophie. Bart knew her grand sire and had natural admiration for thoroughbreds.

Only 7 more miles but we were heading into dusk.

We decided after our bridge experience to call it a day and only ride until dark. Down Main Street Loreauville, taking a right on O Day road, calling Marcy to tell her that we weren't going to make it we eventually landed at Alton Anthony's place.

Alton also was a Louisiana Thoroughbred racer. He had a filly out of the bloodline Production. He and his work crew admired Sophie as we chatted as we waited.

Something happened with Sophie and me standing there. I said, "Sophie, walk with me sweetie," and she did without any lead rope, reins, or anything attached to me. I couldn't believe it. She had never joined up with me like that out in the open before, especially having another horse nearby.

I tested this again..she left Baby behind and followed me around on her own for about 10 minutes...far away from the others. Baby cried out to her...Sophie continued to follow me.

We had become each other's heart and soul, completely...all because she and I bridged our own gap in our lives. Sophie started me on this journey and over a bridge in 2008. And today she took us way beyond that with yet another bridge and doing the impossible.

If yesterday were to be the last day I would ever ride a horse again I would be ok with that; Sophie stole everyone's heart yesterday!

With Horse travel, plans usually change hour by hour; We called Erica to pick us up to drop me off in the same place to resume from there.

Somewhere along the way, my duster, age 20, decided to part company from my saddle and me.

As Erica pulled in I mentioned it. She said, "I think I saw it laying in the middle of the road," and we recovered it. Mark had to walk a quarter mile to retrieve it. "Poor Mark," Erica kept sayin.... The two of us girls waited in the truck. Mark glowed in the darkness in his safety vest.

Our plans now are to be dropped back off from where we last left off---- a mere 8.1 miles from our starting place.

I promised that Sundays were to be a day of rest...and so it is.Tomorrow is a second rest day as Erica will be able to drop me off at Mr. Anthony' s to ride out and onward on Tuesday instead of Monday.

No pace; No schedule. Just taking things as they come. The magic of this ride has just begun.

Expeditions 2008-2011 - Memories

2011-11-09T12:24:00.000-05:00

Here are all previous pictures from 2008-2011 BME Expeditions totaling 1000 miles. What great memories and to all who have been following or are going to be following... THANK YOU for your support! I wouldn't be able to do this without you. Please wait for the slideshow to load, after it does, sit back and enjoy!

This is in tribute of my final ride for 2011.

(Part 1) Sophie’s Choice – The Story of a OTTB Long Rider Horse in the Making:

2011-10-29T11:51:00.000-04:00

The ad said, “Thoroughbred mare. $500. Really Sweet Personality but is not trained. Never Raced. Please call 318-xxx-xxxx for more information.”

At the time, Blaine was working and I was having a hard time finding work. So we decided that perhaps I could retrain a horse “the correct” way and give that horse a new home. Instead of flipping houses, I was going to flip horses. Make happy horses and happy horse owners. Blaine was always supportive of my horsing around and he said, “I’ll tell you what, as a birthday present, you can find yourself a horse. You have $500. Besides Molley could use the break.” Molley was my other 23 year old Half Thoroughbred Half Walking Horse (I called her a thorough-walker).

Leaping forward some, when Blaine passed away, Sophie was the first to hear the news. She rocked me strong in her mane as my tears fell onto her hooves and three days after that, she did it again when my dad died.

Wouldn’t you know it! My car broke down which took $250 of the money that I had to purchase an untrained horse. It delayed my seeing this thoroughbred mare in Frierson, Louisiana. A few days later with an apology, I was able to take a look at her.

“Pleased to meet you Ashley and Leslie!” We talked about our common connection in horses and our common connection in faith. We walked out into a pasture and there stood a youngster, aged five-ish, standing off with a few herd mates. They walked right up to her, haltered her, put a lead rope on and walked her over to me. That was a good sign for me. She was DOG gentle! From the pasture to the barn felt like a mile or so. She was the prettiest one out there with her sleek head, intelligent eyes and a kindness that emitted from her.

Into the bull pen we went.

“Why are you selling her?” I inquired. Leslie wanted to try and have her throw some babies but that didn’t work out. It was confirmed that Sophie had never raced and I thought “phew”, that’s a good thing! I wouldn’t want some crazy off the track thoroughbred to retrain and rehome!

Leslie said she had a tattoo on her lip and but it was missing a number. Ashley said, “See. Look!” and pulled up her lip (without even as much a peep from Sophie) and the numbers there were E0853…and the last number was way too faded to read it.

Her tattoo appeared unfinished. I was told that she had barely 30 days training and no riding experience what so ever. And after 18 months of being a pasture ornament I figured she has probably forgotten everything she knew from those days. The only thing I knew is that she maybe had the registered name of Classic Rebel or something like that. Her history was unknown.

“I’m so sorry about all of this delay” I told them, “I don’t want to insult you or anything, but all I have is $250 but I can promise you that she will have an awesome home under my care.”

Leslie squinted into the sun sitting high on the bullpen railing and said to me, “All we want for her is a good home with someone who has a patient hand.” It was February 28th, and two days after my birthday, Sophie came into my life as Blaine’s last birthday present he was able to give to me before he passed away.

Sophie trained easy with all natural horsemanship and intuitive techniques. She desensitized and took a saddle in just under a day. We went at her pace -which was very fast - and she learned new things in a very short amount of time! We always finished on a good note and got to know each other. We had this automatic deep connection. Four days after meeting her, Sophie seemed to ask me, “C’mon, what are you waiting for? You should be up here and we should be riding together.”

Now I was never the one ride a horse for the first time with a saddle on their backs because if they were to get pitchy, or buck it’s less dangerous, for me, to be ejected from a barebacked horse than having the possibility of get hung up in the saddle!

I looked at Sophie and studied her very intently for another 10 minutes, put her through some more ground exercises and intuited that she was serious. I tied her halter and lead rope around her neck as reins. I climbed up on the bullpen railing. She stood motioness and still as I was standing above her. I put weight on her and sat on her like you would sit in a chair. Sophie continued to stand like a marble statue posed for a thousand years. A few moments went by like this. I gently slid my left leg over her head and took a deep breath and then...

Sophie let out the biggest sigh of relief I have ever heard as the first human in the last 18 months to sit on her. We walked off, and then trotted..and then

"Hey Leslie... Check this out" I hollered from a distance over to her! Her jaw dropped to the floor and stayed there in astonishment and she cheered!

I wasn’t going to flip this horse: Sophie was staying with me for keeps! Jokingly Leslie and Ashley said, "Wow, maybe we shouldn't have sold her at all!".

Over the next few years years, I tried with all my heart to read or figure out that last number on Sophie’s lip with no success. Meanwhile, she had become my main mount and we went on to do some incredible things together. I had desensitized her to large crowds, heavy equipment, flags, flapping plastic and they held no threat to her what so ever! Sophie was as calm as fence post. One of her biggest challenges was having a certain speediness to her that I didn’t understand as her “Whoa” meant “Go” for her. I scratched my head over this and eventually put brakes on her. Part of her training covered clipping, trailering and being on her best behavior for vets and farriers. We did grand rodeo serpentines with 300 other horses, parades, seriously high bridges over the Arkansas river together and things that most horses would just fall over dead just thinking about doing. Sophie had become my soul mate horsey. Ten times in the first year of having her under my care, she was a rock for me when 8 other family members passed away, including her stall-mate sister, Molley. Sophie cried for a week, hollered and whinnied and in return, I comforted her grief. Truly she was on her way as my therapy horse, not just for me, but for those who had emotional struggle and Grayce Academy, my equine assisted therapeutic company. She was not my co-therapist and staff. Partners for life!

We’ve ridden raging thunder storms, hail storms, and Oklahoma sand storms and wind. That feels like being sandblasted hard enough to strip your skin right off!!! We were caught in that one time and it made Sophie’s eyes’ water but she walked stalwartly head onward into them with her eyes half shut.

Then in 2008, my friend Crystal said, ‘Megan, if you take vanilla extract, you can stain that last figure on Sophie’s lip and see what it really is.”

I couldn’t wait to get home to do try this advice out.

“Ok, girl, let’s figure this out, once and for all.”

Pouring the vanilla extract on a rag with some sugar dissolved onto it, I rubbed that mixture onto her upper lip while she stood there without complaint loving the taste outright.

The E got darker, the zero popped out, the 8 became clearer, the five was delineated, the three was really articulated and then- before me appeared the digit as bright as daylight. It was the NUMBER ONE!

Sophie’s entire history and world opened up to me that day!

JOCKEY CLUB #E08531! Registered Classic Rebel. She’s a Grand-Daughter of a what? Are you serious? A thirty- six million.. Did I hear them say MILLION dollar racehorse.

Sophie (AKA Classic Rebel) and most horses go, always have a unique story. Her owners were Louisiana Thoroughbred racehorse breeders but wanted a foal out of Classic T.V. because she had a good temperament. On her father’s side was her grandfather, Devil’s Bag, the 36million dollar racehorse whose earnings were mind blowing as a two year old. But Ms. Timm was very sick with cancer and wanted one last horse out of Classic T.V and Sophie was the outcome of Ms. Timm’s last dying wish. Sophie was never meant to race. But Mr. Timm decided to at least give her a try and to his wife’s dismay, I am sure. I was told this by Sophie’s sire’s owner. Sophie’s sire passed away last year in 2010. Sophie had only 60 days under saddle when I met her. The Timm's raced her three times when she was alittle over 3 and then stopped her track career as she was not able to contend with the others.

Leslie must have purchased her right after she was taken off the track, had no paperwork on her, and let her sit for 18 months. Leslie truly had no idea that she had been raced as I came to know her as a close friend.

Ironically, I took Sophie home ON her fifth birthday as my own birthday present. And oh ya, that "whoa" meaning "go" for Sophie: of course she was that way as that' s the way all OTTB's are off the track for the most part!

I kept digging into her history and wanted her race videos. The last piece of the puzzle was placed and just this year, I found all three of her race videos on a website and I have them now. It helps me make sense of her way of going her heart for racing, her ability to carry me in advanced movements and as well as having the heart for individuals as an equine therapist among many other things.

But what if, what if, I could ride her 1000 miles to Chicago when I moved there. I knew she could do it without a problem and that's the day I Sophie's long rider career started. But not without ALOT of heartache and struggle between us, that's for sure. She could do it without a problem, but a good case of pneumonia for both of us ensued one February threatening both of our lives...

To Be Continued

Making of a Long Rider - Chapter 2

2011-10-24T17:50:00.001-04:00

It was early September and it was the 10th death of a personal friend, loved one or family member I had experienced that year in 2008. My dad was one of them and 45 days later my horse passed away. I got the news about Ida from Jenny from down the hall. I was close to this saddle gal pal and she lost an intense short battle with cancer at the age of 63. I decided to go to her funeral and drive half way to a University town in Illinois where I was going to meet up with my better half and then continue on to West Virginia. The floods came pouring down. I never made it to her final resting place in West Virginia as the interstate was closed. Her obituary ended with a favorite quote of hers, "God Forbid that I should go to a heaven where there are no horses".

Trying to make myself feel better, I journeyed back to Chicago to find a place for my three horses: Basha, Fancy and Sophie. I went to my old barn which would be my final destination on my first long ride and got sticker shock from how high their board was. I was making excellent money but not that much to be able to support three horses in that same stable where I originally found my passion for long riding in DuPage County.

At the end of the weekend, with a heavy heart, I had to decide to re-home one of my girls for financial reason and space limitations. My poor little Basha was the one I decided who had to find a new home. Basha had turned into quite the first class Arabian all around horse and already, I had put down a hard won 500 miles under her feet in a more 5 months. Basha was a rescue horse and was adopted out to me from Blaze's Tribute Equine Rescue. In my adoption contact it read that I would have to call them if my situation changed where I could no longer be Basha's mom.

Basha with no fear loaded up on that trailer like a pro with Natalee and Desiree and became a testimony and poster horse for horses who rehabilitate and have a second chance at life. Bashirah Asudullah has an beautiful home and an even more amazing mom who serves our country to keep our freedom! My little long rider horse....gone.

Summer turned into fall under the clip clop of hooves and my life settled in Oklahoma. Back and forth I went to Chicago every two weeks and plans continued up there.

One week in October I decided to check out another horse as I was not feeling confident that either of my girls were up to the task.

The horse's name was Candy. She was a dark bay and seemed sweet. The seller assured me that she was beginner safe and bombproof. She was the "right" age and size.

In the dark with an overhead light above me, I carefully climbed aboard after watching the seller ride first. I went to move her off from a dead stop and without any warning, she exploded out from under me and bucked three times as hard as she could. I stayed on with her heels to the going to the moon! The fourth time she twisted and ejected me. The torque alone coming out of the saddle broke my back. I landed with a loud thud on the ground after hearing a loud crack. I knew I had broke my collar bone. Unfortunately, the people who were selling her subsequently have sold horses to other's who were supposedly safe and their "trail safe horses" have seriously hurt children. I forgive her for that misrepresentation and all I wanted to do was heal myself.

I was teased by a few long riders who said, "Meg, if you didn't want to do a long ride, you just had to tell me". From that day forward, I earned the nickname "Wimpy" from the Founders themselves! It didn't stop my plans knowing I would be healed in time.

My back was diagnosed three weeks later as broken and healing had already occurred. My separated shoulder and broken collar bone was no better. Ada General Hospital sent me home without proper care. Healing was beyond excruciating and is it still taking me time to completely recover more than three years later! More and more Mark was beginning to see me and take care of me. I called my sweetie back in Chicago and said, "Is it ok if Mark helps me here, he seems like an alright guy and I could really use the help." In his understanding way, he said, "sure" that's fine.

I don't know what I would have done without Mark, honestly. I was steadfast and faithful to my love back in Chicago,too.

Then one night in the blink of an eye..... Mark kissed me and with much surprise I went with it. I couldn't believe what I did! Not after being faithful for years and finally being able to plan out a life and a forever with a man who I waited for ...for so long. I couldn't believe myself.

That kiss was a delineating moment for me, it signified that my life's long ride would change forevermore. That kiss changed my route, changed my life and changed the way I was to become a long rider. It was that kiss that probably saved my life from eternally waiting for Godot.

It was then that I met Crystal Gilmore and icon that would become the symbol of Buffalo Moon Expedition.

To be continued....

The Making of a Long Rider - Part 1 - Sweet Home Chicago

2011-10-18T19:23:00.002-04:00

(Photos Courtesy of Various sites and personal email. THANKS TO ALL for sending them at one time or another)

It took 13 years to finally solidify a relationship with him. Careers, jobs, kids, even not being divorced kept us apart. Finally we decided it was time in 2008. I had just transferred to Oklahoma from Alabama when an amazing opportunity came about there. It was one year position....just enough time to get our lives together once and for all!

Right after arriving in Oklahoma, I had acquired a third horse. She was an Arabian. She had no name but was given the name LuLu for the time being. Blaze's Tribute Equine Rescue did an amazing job (and still does) and gave LuLu a second chance... LuLu was a rescue horse coming back from being seriously starved down. Out at Buffalo Moon Ranch, I was awaiting Sophie (my thoroughbred) and Fancy, my Tennessee Walking horse.

One regular evening conversation I said to him, "What would you think if I rode my horses there. It would be the symbolization of a new life together in Chicago?" And in his usual supportive spirit he said, "Sounds doable and like a great idea, actually. It's just like 'you' to want to do something like that. I know you always wanted to..." I had horses and no way to transport them...it would cost too much to do so. My idea of a long ride was borne out of not having a trailer or the money to move my babies to Chicago.

Waves of excitement came over me. With ponies at the ready where was the first place I went to? Google, of course!

Inspired, my fingers flew around with keywords such as riding horses long distances, riding a horse across the country and lastly Hidalgo. Then "BAM".. there it was.... The Pink Flying Majestic Pegasus who is the Poster Horse for the The Long Rider's Guild site. This Flying Pegasus was based on Count Pompeii, Basha's Cossack Stallion. But I'm getting ahead of myself here....

I plowed through their pages and devoured everything I could about Long Riders and ignored my work the entire day reading about the accomplishments of the members of the Long Rider's Guild and my jaw pretty much remained on the floor of my office the entire day.

I flipped through the site and found a contact number and planned on calling on the way home from work. I dialed a Kentucky, USA area code and number... and left a message. It was about 4:15 in the afternoon and was on my way home from work.

Less than 10 minutes later a get a return call and a pleasant voice on the other end introduced herself to me, "Hi my name is Basha O' Reilly and I'm calling you back from the Long Rider's Guild.".

The journey of a thousand miles takes just one step. And that was it...this was the precise moment that "Long Rider" would be forever and deeply imprinted upon my heart. I was dead serious about this journey, too.

This sweet Swiss Equestrian Explorer talked to me for about 20 minutes. My best memory of Basha was her saying to me, "Just take your toothbrush and go". I just couldn't believe that was all that it really took. She was half joking...but now I know that she was 75% serious...

Basha gave me Howard Wooldridge's name and mentioned he would be contacting me to help me make a long ride. He is a coast to coast long rider...not once...but twice....at the DIAGONAL totalling 6100 miles with the same horse...Misty.

Then it hit me..that's it! An Arabian princess needs an Arabian name. I gave LuLu the name "Bashirah" after Basha O'Reilly. Basha was the most suitable horse for a long ride and the namesake horse of a Founder of the Guild! Perfect I thought!

Bashirah also means "wise one". Finally after three weeks, Basha had her new name...and a new purpose...to carry me 1000 miles back to my Sweet Home Chicago to start a new life.

Here is Bashirah's Story: http://www.blazesequinerescue.com/lulu.html. Again,I am getting ahead of myself here. Anyway....

But ...which way shall I go I thought to myself. I had driven that stretch of road between Oklahoma and Chicago now every two weeks since April and it was now the beginning of June. It popped into my head. Historic Route 66...it was a HORSE TRAIL to begin with, right???? It sure was! It was the Mid-Continental Roosevelt Horse Trail which connected to the Ozark trail back in 1898. Teddy Roosevelt. Remember him? He's the rough rider who knew the Abernathy Boys' Father and The littlest and youngest unchaperoned long riders in American History....

Deeper into the fabric of long riding I went. I looked up long riders and started to reach out to them. I tracked Gary Conger down from the Ride 4 America. Linda Losey was next and a few others who just fascinated me beyond all words. They were icons from a contemporary era born a century too late. And with astonishment and lovely surprise, they all reached back and poured their hearts and souls into me. One by one.

Howard and I connected by phone the first time when he was driving with his wife. I will never forget that day.

Linda poured her heart and soul out to me and told me her story as to why she rode coast to coast with her horses.

Gary Conger, I found out, lived right up the road. He said, "You have to meet Tiger Gaines. He went with us. Tiger lives in Lawton."

THE 4 Horseman from RIDE4America

"Gary, where does he live?"

Gary gave me Tiger's address. And due to an infestation of snakes occupying my house I had moved off the ranch and my horses were being boarded with Dawn at Shining Spur Stables(dot com).

While I was on the phone with Gary, I mapped it out on Google. What returned in the results was a distance of 19 car lengths.

"Wha? Gary.....it says here that Tiger lives across the street".

Gary said, "Well, that's the last address I have for him. Here's his phone number. Give him a call, I bet he would LOVE to meet up with you."

It was then within a few days, I would meet my very first Long Rider up close and in person. Tiger Gaines with Vision Quest rode with Gary Conger and the Oklahoma Horsemen from the Oklahoma City Bombing Site to Ground Zero and arrived on Sept 11th 2002, one year after America's first and worst terrorist attack on American soil.

We had lunch at Atlanta Bread Company. Tiger was a steady man. He was in his 70's which put him as a scout for the Ride for America in his late 60's. He looked Worn but gentled and was a deeply faithful Christian Black man with a wife and grandkids nearby. His time spent with me that day left an amazing impressions as to what the character of a long rider looked like in person.

Route 66 was now my most warn and traveled path to Chicago in those days. Back and forth every two weeks I would go.

Ron Warnick, the President of Route 66 Association as well as the other Route 66 clubs welcomed my journey on horseback. They were astonished, but they welcomed it. They would say, "A thousand miles on horseback, are you serious?". I would reply, "Yep, serious as ever!" Route 66 Preservation came to mind.

My route was coming together. I reached out tried to pre-plan my stops along the way. I sent out flyers and all sorts of other information via email and blanketed Oklahoma. And NOTHING came back in return.

***
An eery foggy morning at 6:50am in October rolls around. I'm on my way back home. The horses were well taken care of and I decided to drive the first 110 miles of my route and get on the freeway in Stroud, a Route 66 Town. Rolling through the fog I see these beautiful picket fences. I'm wearing a long skirt, brown with flower prints, a black hat and wearing a sleepy-eyed expression and have a diet pepsi in my hand. Slowly around this winding fence, I see a girl in her robe, a raven haired late 30 something like me. My window was down I waved by as a I rolled by. "Nice place...I should stop and see if I can stay there." She's on her porch, I though to myself...I'll just take a look.

I put the car into reverse and backed into her driveway. I got out the car and started toward the porch...

This Cowgirl stopped me in my tracks when she exclaimed, "Megan Carter, how in the world are you?"

I thought I had stepped into a time warp as I thought to myself and then out loud, "How in the world do you...."

She interrupted me and said, "I recognize you by your skirt and hat. You sent me a flyer..and I was meaning to get back to you and this morning you are wearing the same skirt and hat!! My name is Ashley West...of WestWay Training Facility. I'd be happy to host you."

We gave each other a huge hug. It was that day I met my very first confirmed host along my route. Ashley, her husband and I are still friends to this day.

****

Linda Losey... Author of "The Great God Hunt", long rider, and mother of two deceased sons took me under her wing. Samuel Losey was the main reason for Linda's American Discovery Ride. I leaned on her so hard in the beginning and sometimes to this day still do. She gave me countless hours of information and the woman's perspective on Long Riding. Coincidentally my launch date would be the anniversary of her son's death. I would ride in memory of Sam and carry a heart shaped rock on my person as a reminder of him.

The depth of her character, joy and experience deepened my knowledge about the spiritual piece of this journey.

In the foreground and side by side with the others stood Howard Wooldridge who I consider a rock for me during these last three years. He has given me time, honored wisdom and support beyond my wildest imagination..

Oh that Cantle bag of Howard's it just itching to get used....by me. Darn, I keep getting ahead of myself here.

*****
Something about me made them believe in me. And something about the founders of the Long Rider's Guild made them realize I was serious about this.

My whole life was now consumed with becoming a Long Rider... and a member of the Guild...

To be continued .....

Butterfly Effect- Memories from Our Long Ride 2010

2011-10-11T17:33:00.000-04:00

We arrive strangers and leave as family and it's hard to say goodbye when we leave. Nowassa and Bub, you have hosted us for three nights and are so grateful to have met you. It's like instant connection and friendship. Can't wait to take a ride in that air boat on the River when we return.

You see, Bub and Nowassa run nine-oh 365 days a year. But even as busy as they are, they have hearts of gold and care about people in a way that most people need to know more about. Down to earth with muddy boots on her feet (Hey Nowassa...you and I are so alike) who know country values and have raised three girls to know the same values that were instilled in them decades ago. The Wilcoxson's have a place that all hunters need to visit...it's called the River Border Outfitters. It's located on the Red River where folks can come and hunt. Woppie, which is Nowassa's Nickname, is all but 100 pounds soaking wet but is a sophisticated cowgirl in her own right. Ladies with an independent streak should look up to her. She held three jobs, put herself through school, got her self an education and then would come home and work cattle side by side with Bub on their ranch. From skirts to boots in 10 seconds flat...from polished fingernails to gloves just like that --- and away they go to work together on their ranch. They have an amazing relationship. All 26+ years of it.

They just "go" together. You know those couples you see walking hand in hand...and they look like they just "go" together? Well, Woppie and Bub are those two people. Faith and Family is a common theme that we hear out here on the trail. It's true. Faith brings hope and family gives it wings to fly.

Woppie and Bub-- we will miss you when we say good bye tomorrow. And Bub...don't worry, I will put your best side on camera when I put that video up there.

Across the street is Mama Josie's Cafe. Josie cooks everything with loving care. She arrived here from south Texas in 1968 and made Terral her home. Her sister Janie comes alive and is passionate about the things in life that are important. Janie and I agree that Oklahoma is the worst for bad sinuses. These gals ....whew..can they cook! Mark and I were pretty certain we were going to lose weight on this ride...but we are gaining it...as our our equine sisters! Holy Moly!   We seem to be eating our way across America!

We had a founder scare..or a Johnson Grass scare this past week. Both Fancy and Baby were into some seriously lush green grass. We free grazed them in Ryan overnight. The next morning, they were stocked up. We put them into these pens with the intention of watching for founder...and wow, was I right!

Anyway, we dry lotted both of them for the next 48 hours and gave them some hay, no grain and that's it. It's so hard to treat founder because they need food to not break down...and at the same time, they need to detox from the stuff that caused it to begin with.

It's amazing, just a mere 65 miles from our driveway lies grass that is as green as the Emerald Isles in Ireland. Anyway, after dry lotting them ...we took it easy and rode to Terral.

Fortunately for us we are riding just one mile north (usually) on a section line just off the USHwy that we are travelling. We have been riding in nice decomposed granite (like well groomed trails) more than 90% of the time. The girls are travelling at 3.8 to 4 miles per hour on these roads. They truly are a bonded pair by now. They sleep laying down with each other and with us nearby knowing they are safe when they are done "working" for the day. They have been in the best care and folks have been so generous with their spaces for our horses it's just rather overwhelming.

Even with this being my 4th attempt, profound emotion emerges when our hosts just seem to appear out of nowhere offering their homes and opening their hearts up to us and our equine sisters. We can't even begin to give the most meaningful thanks they deserve for their support. This ride wouldn't be happening without all of them (yes, this means all of you who have hosted us).

Miles to date only equal 106 miles as we are still going at a pace that will be healthy for Baby to condition herself to the road. She is our main concern since she is new to Long Riding and is doing very well. She is starting to show and build muscle. We are going to try and carry a small packable supply of Weight Builder to provide her with the best proteins to convert Amino Acids into muscle.

Fancy is doing amazing as usual and seems to be somewhat (well, for the most part) happy to be out on the road. She just does not want to leave Baby's left side and they have found comfort in each other and their own groove. Fancy, about an hour into each riding day, makes this decision that I can feel under me that "ok, it's time to pick up the pace". Baby gets her safely onto bridges and Fancy helps her the rest of the way. We crossed the Red River which was our first big river crossing...but not the scariest we have ever done. It was just REALLY LONG. About three miles altogether!

God Blessed us with an Trucking Escort Service (RJ's Escort out of Shawnee OK) waiting for us at the bridge. It's like he was there waiting for us to cross...but we didn't plan on anyone being there for us. A BIG THANK YOU to James for putting his blinkers on and going slowly behind us to make a safe passage all the way across into Texas. We let out a big sigh of relief with a round of pictures at the border to celebrate having gone through Oklahoma already.

We are not going at a lightening pace for a reason. We want to savor every hard won mile underneath these girl's hooves. Today, as Tim Myers told Gary Conger, is "one last ride you will make tomorrow." That is such a profound statement to reflect upon for those of us who have tasted the essence of a Long Ride.

I was on the phone today with Howard Wooldridge and it was so awesome to talk to him and Howard, if you are reading this, I think you are right...THIS IS THE ONE that will go all the way. I can feel it in my bones. You have been an amazing part of each and every attempt and this time is no different. I know that Mark and I appreciate all your time and support of this journey of ours.   You are a breathe of fresh air to talk to and I am so proud that seem to have made great strides with Misty in California.

Going backward, it's so hard to encapsulate all these experiences and meet-ups with the people who have furthered this ride. I could go on for days and could mention so much more here...and if I have left you out of this entry... please know that you are often thought of and we are so grateful for your help and support.

On to the crux of the ride. There has been only ONE...and we say ONE PERSON whose name is Kenn Bruge (AKA Kidd) who we have been who has NOT been touched by cancer in his family. He caught us on a grazing break on Crenshaw Road just over the Texas line near the Cemetery. He recognized us from the news and stopped to talk to us about what we were doing. He has written a children's book many years ago. After him thinking about it...he was saying he was a lucky man to realize that he has not been touched by cancer in his family ever. He is the first... we want Ken's story to become more the NORM than the anomaly.
****

Amber Rohrig, I like to call her the domino girl. Without her we would have never met the friendliest little town in Oklahoma over here. She kicked off an experience that was called Ryan, Oklahoma. And of course, all the other experiences on a long ride are all just as amazing and profound, but there was something about Ryan that gave the underdog a chance, the down trodden and the poor a reason to have hope and gave many people a sense to pull together as a town to make our stay a deep and meaningful experience. Enter Shockley, he opened up the town with great big arms and a place to stay and a vehicle to drive while we stayed there. While riding into town, Butch Barrett said… you are staying at my place. I said, “We are?”. He said, “Yes, you are”.

Butch had so much joy in him that his truck shook like jelly when he laughed. His smile was contagious and his heart was genuine. He told his stories about wild Indian woman, great horses, hard times and his penchant for two much drink and how he has tried to beat that his entire life. He took his ex daughter in law’s step children in. Imagine that…they are so many times removed and still these girls he has living with him and his wife are like his own blood grandchildren. I have to give them credit...they are teenage girls to boot. He knows Chuck Norris' parents when Chuck lived there and took them in. Chuck's family lived in a tent before Butch helped them out.

Shockley (AKA Dilbert and the one and only Ryan Policeman) has five children...all under the ages of 12 and three of which are foster children. They live five miles north of town in Sugden: population 50. He took us to the Circle D Cafe for dinner. He shared his story about a near death experience just last March. He said this experience changed his life and since then, he has "slowed down". "Kinda had to" , he said through a smile.

It was 2:50 am. We were supposed to stay at Blue's house but he ended up not being home - so we camped out in the Ag. Barn near the girls.   Lo and behold, everyone was pretty curious about why the lights in the Rodeo Grounds were on and someone wandered in at 2:50 a.m.! I hollered a big hello when these strays came in the check out who was there. They ran off in a truck with a loud muffler. 40 minutes later they returned and we ran them off again. Never in my long riding miles (except for the New Mexican Standoff with David Schulz and his Rat shot pistol) have I ever had an intruder in my campsite. I kept watch for another 30 minutes as Mark went to sleep.
***
Gear Forward
We have a really super unique piece of this ride occurring. Our hosts have graciously taken ALL of our gear to our next host's place. That means we are riding only with our water bottles and plastic water bucket for the girls if they get thirsty. We know this can't continue forever...but wow, it's so nice to just ride without our sleeping bags, tent, clothes and things like that. The girls are less tired at the end of the day and we are happier to not have to bring it along. Saddling up and unsaddling and even mounting with cantle and horn bags on can be quite a chore. Again, I will say it a million times, this would not be possible without the help of our hosts.

*****
Sunday- 13.9 miles from Ryan to Terral: Went the back way. Had breakfast at Café D’s. and Dinner at the Peach Orchard with Woppie. Staying at hunting lodge tonight and tomorrow… gear forward to Nocona to Rodeo Grounds. May stay a Woppie’s lake house.

***
Recap of places visited and stopped, stayed, laid over of otherwise– Gerald Collier’s place, Shelton’s Market, Family Dollar, Sonic in Waurika, Collier Cattle pens. Thinking about Ed Talley (driving us around), gear forward three days, Ryan, OK and Butch Barrett, Wendall Hamm, James Helloms, Rodeo grounds

***
One year later ----

This is why we ride. This is why I ride... Our horses are able to experience their instinctual desire to be free roaming and migratory. Both horses and riders are free to experience themselves in the most natural way possible across hundreds of miles. The horse and human are kindred souls and a long ride connects us in a way that will never match the way humans and horses exist in a urban domesticated world.

Every day I thank my horses for this connection and for all the possibilities to consider once the opportunity arises again to head out toward the unobtainable horizon. This is the butterfly effect.... it starts with one hoofbeat which brings forth larger and larger waves ultimately becoming a tsunami of possibility for the long riding road that awaits ahead.

Invisible Horse Stories

2011-10-10T19:31:00.000-04:00

You know that eyelash on your horse that curls out of place in just the right spot sometimes poking them inadvertently in the eye. You know the one I am talking about.... It's the one that you thought at one point you want to pluck out but it would hurt too much to do that! That eyelash has seen the raindrops of perhaps only one summer or perhaps 40 snows greeting each one with a knowing-ness of how to tell the weather.

Her daughter squeals with delight and screams, "tiger stripes, mommy! Look! Your horse has tiger stripes." That horse already took two other women through a miscarriage and the other through not being able to have children. That horse now has a comprehension about children and somehow understands them as if they are their own. Rose outgrew her tiger stripes. She had two owners after that. The other owners thought that Rose may have had markings like a tiger before. Rose was the only one who remembered the little girl and other women who loved children. Rose was amazingly kind and sweet and was treated well her entire life. She had a career as a trail horse. However, she fell to the wayside with each owner and with tears of good bye, Rose finally found her permanent parents in home #5. Her last set of parents wondered so much about her but didn't have her history. They loved her just the same. But still....Rose remembered it all.

His black mane absorbed the tears of a man who just lost his wife. This widower couldn't saddle up for almost month after that but Buddy was always there to listen and nicker back. Buddy also knew this mans' deceased wife. Buddy hadn't had one mis-step in his four years on the planet yet. The man cried and hugged his horse until Buddy just hugged and rocked him back. What the man didn't notice was that Buddy was crying too. Buddy had a windpuff on his right hock that healed shortly after the man stopped grieving. Buddy was given away in the man's estate when the widower joined his wife in death. Buddy was jet black and stately he was grateful for an awesome life as a therapy horse. The owner of the program asked Buddy one day, "How did you learn to do this.". Buddy just gave a deep elegant stare and with a slight head nod and tilt to the right....the flick of an ear, he told the program director how he had already handled sorrow, grief and the healing of a family before. He smacked his lips and took the treat gently from the hands of a child with Autism who rewarded him for his efforts. Buddy thought to himself, 'How kind of that little one to reward himself".

On top of an amazing hill, the reminiscing soldier says into the wind, "Heron, I can feel your ghost, my friend. You carried me over this hill under saddle when you were with me in battle. I'm not sure if it was you who made me brave or the reverse. We won the battle that day and you came home with me as retirement present from the Cav. The last Cav. battalion that ever existed. You have long since passed, but I remember." Heron died at the age of 33 having only one owner. Heron had a wounded knee but was still sound to ride up until the end.

His name was Chico. She was an Appaloosa without spots. No one could understand it though. That horse pulled that child out of river with her teeth and waded in after him to save his life. Hung on wires the boy struggled: ....on the sidelines -- a mare--- not too big in size, who had just lost a foal herself a few days before that, made a magnificent leap into the water and saved that human boy. Chico has a scar on her left shoulder. Chico went on to three other people before she found a permanent home.

Many circumstances befall a horse in their lifetime. They are asked to be fostered by several parents, asked to go back to school to learn a new trade they may already know. But one thing is for certain, if you get a horse from someplace else, don't under estimate those scars, bumps, bruises and scrapes.....for within them are lay these amazing invisible horse stories too awesome to fathom and you know what...??? Horses keep their silence for they are too sacred to tell.

22nd World Championship Gumbo Cookoff Collage - New Iberia, LA

2011-10-09T21:54:00.000-04:00

CLICK ON THE PICTURE TO SEE ALL THE HIGHLIGHTS .

LOUISIANA AIN'T NUTHIN' WITHOUT ITS GUMBO!

The Star of the Show: Evangeline!

2011-10-07T14:49:00.001-04:00

Here's just the girl to do the job of a long rider horse. This is Evangeline, AKA "Eve". She is an old style Plantation Tennessee Walking Horse! She has stamina, grace, character and class. And as always Eve will never be "Just a Horse". Please read the anonymous poem that someone wrote...that definitely is worth the read after the video.

Eve rides bitless without a problem! Even though she is evading me some, we are working on that and my stirrups are too long (WHO's been riding in my saddle). ACK! I was too lazy to change them up a notch!

This is to demonstrate her natural rate of travel. During a long ride she travels at an actual 4-6 miles per hour.

Thanks for Mark for being my videographer! The description on the video also discusses the Tenn. Walking horse and the gaits in which are demonstrated here.

You will find the poem below the video.

We're Walkin!

From time to time,
People tell me 'lighten up, it's just a horse.'
From time to time
People tell me, ' a lot of money spent'
From time to time
People tell me, 'it's just a horse.'

If you really think it's
'Just a horse, '
Like 'just a promise, '
'Just a friend, '
Than you can't see
The beauty of it all.
You just can't see.

The distance traveled,
The time spent,
And the costs involved for
'Just a horse.'
The reason to rise,
Early in the morning,
Taking those long walks,
Even when it's pouring.

It's my proudest moments,
My only company
The saddest moments,
And the gentle touch,
That gave me a reason to go on.

It's the hopes and dreams
And the coming of the future.
The fond memories of the past,
And the unforgettable joy of the coming day.
So...

If you really think it's,
'Just a horse, '
Like 'just a promise, '
'Just a friend, '
Than you can't see,
The beauty of it all.
You just can't see.

'Just a horse'
Brings out the best in me,
'Just a horse'
It gives me who I am and
Keeping me from being,
'Just a girl.'
'Just a woman'
'Just another Man'

I'll smile and nod to agree,
knowing deep down I don't.
you may think it's 'just a horse, '
but it never will be for me.

If you really think it's,
'Just a horse, '
Like 'just a promise, '
'Just a friend, '
Than you can't see,
The beauty of it all.
You just can't see.

And whenever you tell me "It's just a horse"
I'll smile inwardly and say to myself....

You Just Don't Understand

Emotional Freedom Comes at a Price

2011-10-04T17:47:00.001-04:00

...When I walked into that kitchen at my hosts house in New Mexico, I had no idea how that day their heart's would be unlocked. I just rode into town with a group of other expeditioners hoping for a shower and some rest. Inevitably and gratefully, they shared their hearts and home with me.

They shared their stories of ranching and stories of an adult child struggling with addiction. Without mentioning I had worked with individuals who battled addiction, word by word as it fell from their lips they described in detail how they didn't know how to help themselves help their adult son. I said, "there's not any amount of money you can give, or anything that you can do for him, you just have to let him "Be" and have him figure it out on his own." The father got edgy and didn't like what I had to say. "Surely, there must be something, " he said. "Unfortunately, " I stated, "You have done all you can. Trying to fix it for him will only make it worse."

I asked them at one point to please go get a rock from their garden and give it to me so I can place it in my med bag so I could ride for him. Two days pass and miles of emotional ground covered, I never received a rock from them. Out of the blue and 100 miles down the road, they showed up at my accommodations for the evening baring food, drinks and a plethora of good will.

Right before they went to leave I asked them if they ever found a rock to give me for their son. The dad looked at me and got all choked up and said, "Yes, I have a rock....but instead, I want you to ride for me". He wept on me..and I hugged him with tears of joy that he learned the lesson of tough love.

Emotional Freedom Comes at a Price

******

As I lay inside that horse trailer, that was clean as a whistle up the road from Waggoner and down the Road from Inola, I was scared to death. The bar was in full rip that night and my hosts were the owners of this establishment. Dusty, my previous night's host, came up to check and have dinner with me as I stayed comfy in this biker bar.

This was my first night alone, in a strange place, sleeping under the starts EVER on a long ride. Fancy, my horse was munching happily in the adjacent field and I could hear her.

The trailer was a three horse slant load trailer in mint condition and I think it never hauled a horse. With my saddle strings, I tied myself in there as best as I could. It was warm in there.

I became more scared. I called Long Rider Stan P. and said, "If you tell me I will be alright in here, I will be alright." He gave me some Long Rider reassurance about all the times he slept under bridges and what not and allayed my fears.

In a few minutes, after thinking I was heading out for an interesting 18 miles the next day, I was sleeping like a baby with my horse grazing nearby.

We had ridden 200 miles already. The Parrish's in Waggoner shared their family with me a night or to ago. They said I added a new dynamic that really helped them bond more. I was treated like a part of their family and we barbecued.

Emotional Freedom Comes at a Price.

****

The unattainable horizon as we view it between our horse's ears and below our feet accelerates personal growth exponentially. We leave one person and come back another..and we just think that we are helping people, listening to their stories, when it is really ours that is unfolding, changing as the scenery melts from rock to sand to grass into mountains and back again as the rhythmic "clop,clop,clop,clop" beneath us allows us to ride the wind of heaven at the pace of 3-5 miles per hour.

Emotional Freedom Comes at a Price....and it all starts right on the trail for me. 24 days until launch...

Blog Entry Over and Out - October Fourth Twenty-Eleven

Voodoo Preistess In the Heart of the Bayou - Marie LeVeau - Larger than Elvis Presley

2011-09-30T16:20:00.001-04:00

Haitian Revolution Flag

It's no secret that Louisiana Voodoo is a part of Louisiana and Acadian culture.Voodoo was brought into the French Colonies (Acadiana) at the time when Africans were deported in response to the Haitian Revolution in the early 1700's.

With them came their spirituality, belief in spirits. And not too long after this culture arose from la Coeur da Bayou (the heart of the bayou), catholic beliefs were thrown into the mix and created Louisiana Voodoo.

The invisible mysterious force than can intervene in human affairs from the Dahomean's gives us the word "VUDU" on which the modern day term "Voodoo" is based. Followers of Louisiana Voodoo believe in one God who have lesser 'helper spirits" to preside over daily matter of life, love, success and all human matters.

Why did Voodoo mix with Catholic customs? Initially, Voodoo was not allowed to be practiced and was punishable by death in the cruelest of fashions. A big social event of the times was to go to Jackson Square which was the site of many executions during this time. The hanging tree still stands today. It’s the big oak tree in the rear left side just in front of the cathedral. The weekly executions were held each Saturday and was a family event including a picnic lunch. So the Voodoo beliefs were merged with the catholic religion as a disguise to continue practice.

In addition, the preservation of this African culture was extraordinary. Africans outnumbered Europeans two to one which fostered a prominent and an exuberant African community. Only a few extremely wealthy Europeans owned slaves at the time which impacted and created a very strong, independent, self-confident free African community.

Marie LeVeau

And then... along comes a hairdresser turned Voodoo High Preistess named Marie LeVeau.

Marie LeVeau was born in 1782 to a white planter and a Creole woman of color. She was believed to be born a free woman and was not entrapped into a life of slavery. When she was 37, she married a Free man who emingrated from Haiti. His name was Jacque Paris. Just one year after their marriage, Jacque left Marie a very young widow. Marie took a lover, Louis Christophe Dumensil de Glapion) and they had 15 children together.

Soon after, Marie became a hairdresser for wealthy white families. In those days hairdresser did alot more than just cut hair. They stitched wounds, lanced boils, delivered babies, pulled teeth and many things that would require a doctor today. One specialty was preparing potions: potions to cure or aid body functions such as willow bark for headaches, a pinch of this or that for a backache and sometimes a potion to heal emotional distraught.

Later she became skilled in medicine as a nurse practitioner during the yellow fever epidemic. She studied hard and learned the healing qualities of indigenous herbs, spices, and the effects it had on the body.

Before long, Marie conducted private rituals behind her house on St. Ann's street near the French Quarter in New Orleans. Marie started her ascension as the most powerful Voodoo Queen and Priestess to ever live and concoct a spell. She was the queen of them all and at one point, appointed herself the Pope of Voodoo. Folks of all creeds used to go to her. She would mix potions, create spells (called mojo) and could keep anybody from harming you and could DO anything that you wanted done to someone else. She used to say prayers, mix dfferent things together, use rubs, incorporate cats and their entrails, throw things over her shoulder or ask you to jump into a river! In an uncanny fashion everything would happen just as she would predict, pray about, or cast a spell upon.

Marie's name became feared and well respected. You wouldn't want to cross her or get too close to her. Dare you be her friend, for if you did, would she turn you into a Loup-garou? An owl, or send you into eternal damanation???

Marie LeVeau's grave is visited more times per year than Elvis Presley's grave! It is believed that you can come to Marie's tomb and ask for something. She accepts money, cigars, white rum and candy as offerings during her time with the living as well as during her time in the adjacent realm in which she supposedly presides now. Appeals must be made 3 times with full concentration.

In voodoo it is believed that when a Voodoo Queen dies her spirit re-enters the river of life and moves to the next realm, adjacent to this one. Her spirit will always be here, close at hand in and around New Orleands. To this day, people still visit her tomb with the hope that she will grant their wishes." (1) Listen to what Crazy Horse Ghost writes about Marie LeVeau:

"Grass grows out of the top of the tomb of Marie Laveau but tens of thousands visit her tomb every year. In fact more people visit the tomb of Marie Laveau each year than visit the grave site of Elvis Presley. People leave offerings , voodoo statues , and more at the tomb of Marie Laveau and some people claim Marie Laveau will never be truly dead. Over the years since her death many people have claimed to see her. Voodoo practitioners often claim that Marie Laveau appears at their voodoo celebrations. Many people place three crosses on the tomb of Marie Laveau for luck or to ask that she grant their wish from the dead.

Many people especially those in New Orleans will tell you that Voodoo is very real. It is up to you to believe what you will believe. And also up to you whether you believe the ghost of Marie Laveau still walks the streets of the French Quarter. What I can tell you is that Marie Laveau had more influence on Louisiana Voodoo than anyone else in history. Other Legends have it she cured the curse of a Loup-garou by chaining it up to a crypt for three nights on a full moon. Some say she is not a ghost or a vampire, but a Loup-garou and uses the curse to stay alive. Do you know that their have even been claims made by some people that Marie Laveau is a vampire and that she still lives in the French Quarter of New Orleans today.Thousands of times after the reported death of Marie Laveau there have been reported sightings of her. Most people who see her say that she is solid and that she disappears with a quickness."

What ever you believe about Marie LeVeau, and whether you chance to see her spirit haunting the streets or standing at the end of your bed in the middle of the night, remember to say your prayers to God and Jesus before you sleep to keep you protected from the Voodoo Preistess.....and as Marie LeVeau said herself...please remember ---To Stop a Voodoo spell from being placed upon you, acquire some bristles from a pig cooked at a Voodoo Ritual, tie the bristles into a bundle and carry them on you at all time and if you lay a broom across your doorway at night, a witch can't come in and hurt you..(2)

Marie LeVeau is watching Y*O*U!!!

****
End notes
(1) Chambers, Wendy. Voodoo on the Bayou, 2001
(2) Louisiana Voodoo Wiki

Meet Guest Blogger Cher Gatreaux Baum: Real Life Stories from The Bayou

2011-09-26T18:05:00.002-04:00

The Acadian-Metis Flag

Please Welcome Guest Blogger Cher Gatreaux Baum. We extend a huge thanks and warm welcome for her contribution to this blog and the time she has given to us here!

Cher comes from a long line of Acadians and is proud of her Cajun Heritage. Her Acadian roots extend way way back to Le Grande Derangement (The Great Deportation from Grand Pre', Nova Scotia). Cher's ancestors were deported from Acadia in 1755. Currently she and her husband live in northeast Tennessee, along with their 2 dogs, and their beloved horses, Woody & Dusty.

Cher also at the end of her bio tells us the great Cajun Folktale about the Loupgarou (pronounced "loo-ga-roo") that will give you goosebumps when things go "Bump in da night on da bayou".

Her heritage reminds us of yet another forgotten piece of fabric in Acadian Heritage woven almost into complete disappearance - the Acadian-Metis Heritage. The Acadian Metis Heritage consists of one of several terms used to describe people of mixed native and European origin. The word métis is an old French word meaning "mixed." Other terms that have been used include mixed blood, bois brûlé, michif, and country-born. Today the term Metis refers to a distinct group of people who have a common history and heritage.

The first Métis were the children of European fishermen and native women along the Atlantic coast of Canada. In Acadia, many French men took native wives (we in the US may know them at Native Indian Tribal People). Some villages became largely Métis. During the 17th century, both the French and the native people encouraged mixed marriages. For the native people, these marriages strengthened their bonds with their allies and trading partners. The French authorities came to oppose these unions. The church in particular was concerned that the young men preferred the freedom of life in Indian country. Métis children either stayed with their native mothers or were raised in French society. The Métis population increased farther inland. Fur traders and soldiers settled around the tiny forts and fur-trade posts. (1)

Cher tells us ...

"I was born to a Acadian-Metis Father & Irish/Scot Mother.My Father's family centered around Vermilion Parish. His closest family anyway. There were extended families (his Aunts & Uncles) in St. Mary, Iberia, Ascension & Assumption Parishes.   Her father's side of the family is descended from Francois Gautreau (Gauterot in the 1671 Census of Acadia). Francois had 2 wives, the first Marie (last name unknown) and his 2nd Edme'.  Francois fortunately never saw the British rip apart the beautiful country that had become their home. He had passed away long before Le Grande Derangement (the great deportation). Many of his descendants were deported to France and England.

Then on to St. Dominique (currently Haiti), the eastern shore of the U.S. and South America. Like most Acadian & Acadian-Metis families, we carry the common names LeBlanc, Boudreaux, Arsenault, Broussard...and so very many others in our family tree. When it comes right down to it, there really isn't a "Cajun" alive who isn't a cousin to me in one way or another; for we all descend from those original families of Acadia.  I grew up in a family ripe with traditions and cultures carried down from those first settlers who courageously ventured to Acadia (now known as Nova Scotia) as well as the Irish/Scot ones who settled in the northeastern U.S.. I was blessed to be able to spend many summers in Louisiana among our extended family.

The Mi'kmaq tribal heritage will be discussed tomorrow as the Mi'kmaq were the natives who married the Europeans. The Mi'kmaq tribe has a heritage that dates back to 8500 BC (!)

But for now.... here is Cher's Acadian story of the Loupgarou; Some say the Loupgarou is a myth, some say the Loupgarou is real.   You are never supposed to say this name louder than a whisper, especially at night!

Hang on by your toes and don't make a sound
For the Loup-garou may be milling around!

***Acadian Tale of the Marie and Vincent - the Loupgarou***

... ooooh cha...come close lemme tell ya 'bout da loup garou ;) lonnnng time ago Vincent was in love wit’ a beautiful quadroon (2) gal...oh cha she was da finest thing wit’ steel gray eyes...allllll da men lost their breath when she walked by....her name was Marie...hardly anyone knew that Marie was actually a voodoo queen...Vincent, bein’ a dandy wooed her and wooed her til he finally captured her heart... He vowed to always love her and her alone....now remember cha..he WAS a dandy ;) there wasn't a lady who strolled by that didn't turn his head.....the day before they were to be wed, Marie caught him in a compromising situation wit’ a young lady....heart broken she fled into da bayou.....her heartbreak turned to anger then she swore vengeance....she cursed Vincent!! cast a spell on him that he would no longer be able to live only as a man...every full moon he would become a horrible 1/2 man-1/2 beast...he was condemned to rove da bayous and swamps as he could no longer live among normal people.....to this day he lives in da swamps...and his bite is often deadly...awww cha if you are in da dark in da swamp, listen for da screech owl, she'll tell you when he's about....keep your eyes away from da branches of da trees, for that is where he lingers....if you do look up into da trees, and you see bright red eyes---its too late!! For captured in that gaze, he'll hypnotize you, paralyze you then he'll pounce down on you and take your life....some say he's a were wolf, but oh cha he's much worse than that...you see he can appear as a 1/2 wolf, he can become a cow, a horse or any other animal he wants to be.....In da day, he still appears as a man...except for one sign ....his left eye always stays red....so cha, tiptoe thru da bayou...and keep your eyes cast down...as da sun goes down, three times turn round as da sun goes round...and spit on da ground...say "Vincent stay away from me, for I am not your Marie" ;)
***
Now remember to keep your eyes cast down. And should you be attacked by a Loup-garou the only way to be rid of the curse is to not tell anyone for a year and a day and only then will the curse be lifted.

Up next tomorrow: The Difference between Creole and Cajun.

And before you start thinking that Voodoo is a thing of the past, think again! The religion is alive and well today! Your Gris-gris bag with Mojo may not work against the attack of Loup-garou. In two days time, stay tuned for our blog topic on Voodoo, Hoodoo, Cajun Native Religions and the most Powerful Quadroon who caught the respect and fear of the city of New Orleans! Beware my friends, for Marie might be watching you right now. Do you feel the weight of her stare watching you from behind????

******
For more information and discussion about all things Acadian please follow our group on Facebook by searching the Keywords "Buffalo Moon Expedition 2011".

****

End notes:

1) http://www.acadian-home.org/Metis.html

2) A quadroon was considered a person with the mixed race of Indian, French, Spanish and Other European. The word "morphed" into a women who is a Voodoo Priestess. Marie LaVeax was the most well known Voodoo Queen in this part of the world. This story is most likely based on her and the lovers that she often took and rejected. In time the name of Marie Laveau became distorted. Mothers threatened their children that she would put a curse on those who didn't behave. She was thought of as an evil witch, capable of causing unimaginable trouble. But there are also reports of her as a nurse. Others mention that small children went to her home every Saturday morning for the brown sugar sticks she would hand out.

Brief thoughts and thanks

2011-09-25T13:49:00.000-04:00

Bonjour Mes Amis! Just a brief note of thanks for those of you who have recently joined the blog. I am honored that you have decided to follow this ride. For those of you who have Acadian and French heritage who are following now, you are the very reason why this expedition is taking place this fall. Ironically my horse's Registered Name is Eve's Revenge. I call her Evangeline. She and I will be bringing our "message d'espoir" and reinvigorating Cajun Heritage and History throughout the entire state.

Not only will we be honoring and celebrating Acadian heritage and culture, we will also be preserving Acadian Equestrian Travel, honoring slaves history and indentured servants who have been freed from their oppressive existences. Acadiana in many ways is where many people landed whose home countries did not want them or those individuals who were "deported" So this ride is for all of you Acadians, Ex-slaves, indentured servants and others who have ancestors who lived the oppressed life under governments who TRIED but didn't succeed in stomping out your God Given Heritage and Culture! I would love to hear your stories and comments about your ancient family history..it would be an honor to have you share a story as a guest on the blog here.

Thank you again for joining and I look forward to riding for y'all!

Louisiana Saturday Night - The Fais Do Do

2011-09-24T16:37:00.001-04:00

Driving down the paved road beveled with centuries old oak trees on both sides, you accelerate through the green humid tropical evening with the sound of robust crickets serenading your trip. Opelouses, meaning "Flat Prairie", opens up the possibilities for a night of festival and southern Louisiana music. Bojangles, Purple Peacock, Napolean's or Cowboy's turn your head and you wonder where's the best place to stop.

A neon sign catch you out of the corner of your eye. Slowing to a crawfish crawl and lights steaming and shining down a dimly light gravel road, you pull in to perhaps one of the oldest swamp pop nightspots in Southern Louisiana in the outskirts of Opelousas.

You feel out of place.

The trip-el-lette, trip-el-lette rhythm of the fiddle start to make you feel more welcome. Slow, usually melancholic swamp pop ballads, however with their heavy, triplety feel, undulating bass lines, climactic turnarounds and dramatic melodies born generations ago of widespread poverty, hard-living and the loneliness of a largely rural existence entice you into wanting to hear more. Then the lively fiddle grabs your attention as the beat turns around and flies away on something that sounds like square dance music. Yep. You're a Yankee. A Northerner thinking you were you were cultured as a city slicker.

"Where's y'all's hat, son?" an robust Acadian man slaps you on the back and asks you in fun...

You sheepishly reply, "I.....I ....I ...must have left it...in my car"

He cuts you off and replies "I seh y'all not fro aroun' here. S'ats alright. We make sure y'all hah a gooh time anyway".. (my apologies Andi if you are reading this and hope it comes through ok)

You keep to yourself while swirling couples dance with heart to the hoppity uppidity beat of a..did you really see that... Yep. A washboard! Welcome to the Bayou Yankee... it's time you made it down home!

Wandering up to grab a beverage you look around and someone next to you in conversation mentions something about a fay to doe to toe. They are uniquely semi-bilingual and you realize you are in for an amazing Louisiana Saturday Night.

Let the Fais-do-do begin!

A Fais do-do is Cajun danceparty. The "do-do" (pronounced doe-doe) comes from the verb thattransitioned from "dormir" which means "to Sleep". Fais translated into english means "to make". The Fais do-do (to make sleep) is a Cajun tradition allaround Louisiana....and one that is happening tonight here in New Iberiaat the Louisiana Sugar Cane Fest!

Here's Stuart Landry, an Acadian countryman's, explanation - Years ago, when south Louisiana communitieswere isolated and traveling was difficult, Saturday night dances were held inhomes or dancehalls. Whole families attended these gregarious gatherings, andonce the initial visiting was over, the infants and young children were put tosleep (fais dormir) on pallets wherever there was room around the perimeter of the dance floor,in a corner of the room, or sometimes on shelves under the bar. The parentswere then free to dance the night away.

A fais do-do(FAY-DOE-DOE) is like a Cajun hoedown, a country dance. Themusic, sometimes referred to by the locals as "chanky-chank," wasprovided by an accordion, a fiddle, and a "ting-a-ling," or triangle.The favored dance of the Cajuns is called a two-step and is akin to a waltz,but livened up with little jig steps.

Sometimes they danced until dawn. And sometimes, they danced outside underthe trees because the houses were rather small. La poussière (pronounced lah poo-see-air)-- which means dust--- wouldfly under their feet! Eula Mae tells us that, "Babies were often put to sleep in another room with agrandmother or other older family member to keep them quiet while the bandplayed on. But sometimes, a mother would hold her baby in her lap until she gotup to dance, handing her child to someone else."

My friend C. Gatreaux explains: "Yes! We had fais do do's all the time...even in our second home in Florida. Good food, great friends...dancin' all night long to great music; fallin' asleep to the laughter of the adults' up the in "attic" on the old feather bed. Some of my favorite childhod memories!"

Oh, yes, a fais do-do was a goodtime - a good time for everyone to catch up on the news, see cousins and otherrelatives, and, of course, eat! More often than not, everyone brought a dish.One family might bring a gumbo or stew; another supplied seafood to boil orfish to fry, and there were always sweet treats, like cakes, cookies, or somekind of dessert made with local fruits.

So let's put on our dancing shoes and head on out --- we are guaranteed an amazing La Louisiane Samedi Soir (Louisiana Saturday Night).

Music video by Mary Chapin Carpenter performing Down At The Twist And Shout. (C) 1991 SONY BMG MUSIC ENTERTAINMENT

To make money, You have to sing in English. To save our heritage, You have to sing in French,

2011-09-23T14:13:00.000-04:00

When I was learning french in grade school in the 70's, others were being punished for it. The possibility of speaking another language fluently within our country's borders intrigued me while it earned detentions for those down in Southeastern Louisiana.

By 1950, the Cajun French language and culture still suffered immensely and many parents did not go to the trouble of teaching their children French. Why should they teach their children anyway? Cajun French was considered a "low life language". Students who tried to speak it in Acadiana were sent to detention in schools if they were caught speaking it. Even sadder still, the Cajun French language was considered unfit for written or spoken expression. The Cajun French donned their Mardi Gras masks to hide the pain of their own cultural extinction and entertained those who had no clue. New Orleans bound to let the good times roll.

"They stood up on the stage as if it was their altar, They faced down all the rage and no, they did not falter. They were good enough to play but not good enough to stay, And when they finished their songs boy they had to better be on their way...." (- Edwin McCain, Good Enough)

Meet poet Jean Arecenaux: Ils ont entendu son cri du bayou. Sa poésie "Cris sur Le Bayou: Naissance d'une poésie acadienne en Louisiane" porteur d'espoir pour les Acadiens que leur langue était bel et bien vivant.

(Enter Jean Arceneaux: They heard his cries from the Bayou. His poems "Cries from the Bayou: The Birth of Acadian Poems in Louisiana" brought hope to the Acadian people that their language was alive and well) Cris sur le bayou expressed a common desire to inscribe an indelible impression onto others about the problematic experience of the Louisiana French Speaker who was faced with the ghosts of their own extinction.

Cultural Extinction. Imagine yourself in the 1950's. Schools are segregated. You are a small child who was taught by your favorite Grandmother to speak French. Your father speaks Cajun French. Your books are in American and you are having trouble reading. When you arrive at school you pass your teacher and say "Bonswa". She wheels around on her heels and swats you on the hinny and says, "Don't you ever talk like that in this classroom. I am sending you to the principal." The parent teacher conference begins. Your parents are fluently speaking French in whispers. The teacher sits down and says, " Je comprends et je suis désolé. (I understand and I am sorry). Your teacher, Ms. LeBlanc continues in English and says that Cajun French is not allowed in the classroom and that you will be punished more severely the next time you are caught speaking it in your classroom. Your teacher's face and eyes express deep hidden sadness. Your parents and she suffer in silence and knowingly console each other that once more, a piece of your and their culture has been ripped away shaming you of your own heritage. You listen and are writing on the blackboard 100 times, "I will not speak French in the Classroom ever again" and you are crying but are not sure why.

By Jean Areceneaux

Schizophrénie linguistique

I will not speak French on the school grounds.
I will not speak French on the school grounds.
I will not speak French…
I will not speak French…
I will not speak French…
Hé ! Ils sont pas bêtes, salauds.
Après mille fois, ça commence à pénétrer
Dans n'importe quel esprit.
Ça fait mal ; ça fait honte ;
Puis là, ça fait plus mal.
Ça devient automatique.
Et on ne speak pas French on the school grounds
Et ni anywhere else non plus.
Jamais avec des étrangers.
On sait jamais qui a l'autorité
De faire écrire ses sacrées lignes
À n'importe quel âge.
Surtout pas avec les enfants.
Faut jamais que eux, ils passent leur temps de recess
À écrire ces sacrées lignes.
Faut pas qu'ils aient besoin d'écrire ça
Parce qu'il faut pas qu'ils parlent français du tout.
Ça laisse voir qu'on est rien que des Cadiens.
Don't mind us, we're just poor coonasses.
Basse classe, faut cacher ça.
Faut dépasser ça.
Faut parler anglais.
Faut regarder la télévision en anglais.
Faut écouter la radio en anglais.
Comme de bons Américains.
Why not just go ahead and learn English.
Don't fight it. It's much easier anyway.
No bilingual bills, no bilingual publicity.
No danger of internal frontiers.
Enseignez l'anglais aux enfants.
Rendez-les tout le long,
Tout le long jusqu'aux discos,
Jusqu'au Million Dollar Man.
On a pas réellement besoin de parler français quand même.
C'est les Etats-Unis ici,
Land of the free.
On restera toujours rien que des poor coonasses.
Coonass. Non, non. Ça gêne pas.
C'est juste un petit nom.
Ça veut rien dire.
C'est pour s'amuser. Ça gêne pas.
On aime ça. C'est cute.
Ça nous fait pas fâchés. Ça nous fait rire.
Mais quand on doit rire, c'est en quelle langue qu'on rit ?
Et pour pleurer, c'est en quelle langue qu'on pleure ?
Et pour crier ?
Et chanter ?
Et aimer ?
Et vivre ?

Juillet 1978

Linguistic Schizophrenia

I will not speak French on the school grounds.
I will not speak French on the school grounds.
I will not speak French…
I will not speak French…
I will not speak French…
Hey, those bastards aren't stupid.
After a thousand times, it starts to get beaten
Into anybody's head.
It hurts; it makes you feel ashamed;
And then, it doesn't hurt.
It becomes automatic.
And you don't parler français on the school grounds
Or anywhere else non plus.
Never with strangers.
You never know who has the power
To make you write those goddam lines
At any age.
Especially not with children.
They should never have to spend their recess
Writing those goddam lines
Because they shouldn't speak French at all.
It shows that we're nothing but Cajuns.
Don't mind us, we're just poor coonasses.
Low-class, better hide that.
Better get past that.
Better speak English.
Better watch TV in English.
Better listen to the radio in English.
Like good Americans.
Why not just go ahead and learn English.
Don't fight it. It's much easier anyway.
No bilingual bills, no bilingual publicity.
No danger of internal frontiers.
Teach the children English.
Take them all the way,
All the way to the discos,
All the way to the Million Dollar Man.
You don't really need to speak French anyway.
This is the USA,
Land of the free.
And we'll always be nothing but poor coonasses.
Coonass. No, no. That doesn't bother us.
It's just a nickname.
It doesn't mean anything.
It's just for fun. It doesn't bother us.
We like it. It's cute.
It's doesn't make us mad. It makes us laugh.
But when you laugh, in what language do you laugh?
And to cry, in what language do you cry?
And to scream?
And sing?
And love?
And live?

Juillet 1978.

Acadians experienced the painful betrayal of the Cajun language and culture, a betrayal that came as much from within the community as it did from Américains. Cajuns lived isolated and relatively unnoticed. Who would be able to revive their culture and bring belonging to these people promised "refuge from their teeming shore"? The Statue of Liberty's inscription by the late 1970's was a farce and mocked Cajun existence.

"We real cool, we left school, we lurk late, we strike straight. We sing sin, we thin gin. We Jazz June, we die soon". (Gwendolyn Brooks)

Colonihilism - Jean Arceneaux

Les schools boards étaient composés
De Babineaux, d'Arceneaux et de Leblanc.
C'est-tu des noms américains, ça ?
Pour les quelques Américains impliqués, ok,
Ils sont coupables d'avoir comploté
Pour assassiner un peuple,
Pour étouffer sa langue et sa culture.
Mais les Cadiens, c'était quoi leur complot ?
Le génosuicide par les mêmes moyens ?
C'est difficile de regarder l'ennemi dans les yeux.
Il faut souvent trouver un miroir.

The school boards were made up of people with names like
Babineaux, Arceneaux, and Leblanc.
Are those American names ?
For those Américains involved, fine,
They're guilty of having plotted
To assassinate a people,
To smother its language and culture.
But the Cadiens, what was their plot ?
Genosuicide by the same means ?
It's hard to look the enemy in the eyes.
Sometimes you need a mirror.

Arceneaux acidic poems sometimes will burn out the eyes of his readers. His brutal honesty depicts the necessary wake up call to the rest of America about what exactly happened to this beautiful culture forced to turn Anglican. "Low life no more" Arceneaux turns the tables and places a mirror in the Cajun oppressors faces like a contemptious child. He believes that Americans Let the Good Times Roll (but only for the money and tourism).

Pour faire de l'argent, Il faut chanter en anglais. Pour sauver l'héritage, Il faut chanter en français, À n'importe quel âge, Juste parce que. (To make money, You have to sing in English. To save our heritage, You have to sing in French, At any age, Just because. You can't buy a crumb of bread With fifty cents of heritage, But you can't buy a crumb of heritage.) (Arceneaux)

Acadiana needs an Evangeline more than ever to preserve a dying heritage that is mocked by TV Shows like Swamp People, to be delivered from those people who scream from balconies in New Orleans egging on women to "Show me your ****!". Beads slinging over head, drunken Mardi Gras American debauchery ignoring three centuries of important culture that slams into contemporary insanity.

We jazz june... we die soon.

Antonine Maillet - Acadian Avenger // A Modern Day Evangeline

2011-09-21T15:43:00.000-04:00

Antonine Maillet is one of Canada's best-known writers. The soulof contemporary Acadian literature, Maillet has been responsible for generatingpride in her people through her stories depicting strong-willed Acadians. Shewas the first non-French citizen to win the Prix Goncourt.

"I have avenged my ancestors," said author AntonineMaillet in 1979 with the publication of her book Pélagie-la-Charrette. Mailletbroke new ground and became the voice of disenfranchised Acadians. She wouldtell the sad tale of the Acadian expulsion in the 18th century. She would alsowrite about mothers, a washerwoman named la Sagouine, bootleggers, fishermen,dreamers — struggling to exist alongside the English majority.

Maillet was the first author to writein the Acadian vernacular, a language derived from seventeenth- andeighteenth-century French. Her body of work helped define the Acadian culture,a culture which, over two hundred years, successive governmental powers havetried to destroy. Her best-known work, Pélagie-la-Charrette (1979)dramatizes the exodus that occurred in Canada after the British destroyed asettlement of French-speaking Acadians in 1755 and dispersed the people alongthe eastern coast of North America. Some, such as the Cajun in Louisiana,formed new settlements, but many surreptitiously made their way back to Canada.

Maillet is an inspiring Acadian woman who is known to be the spokesperson for the Acadianpeople. She still continues to givepresentations today. Antonine gives voice to Longfellow's character - Evangeline - and adds her own flavor of Acadian strength through her own Acadian character, Le Segouine. This interview is ten minutes long but worthevery second to watch it. Please listen to Antonine’s timeless message ofencouragement, hope and wisdom for women and all people to give them strength to “reach beyond the stars”....

Click here to watch a Live Interview with Antonine Maillet

Credits: Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Lastupdated: April 22, 2006. http://archives.cbc.ca/arts_entertainment/literature/topics/1779-12077/

Food with Flare - with Louisiana hot sauce of course

2011-09-04T21:29:00.001-04:00

Let’s face it, it’s a foodie heaven down in Southeastern Louisiana and all over Acadian Country! The French Cajun cooking is a very unique style of cooking that blends the spicy with haute cuisine! So today’s blog will have lots of flavor about the fun exquisite mouth watering facts of Cajun Cooking.

Cajun cooking has very few exact recipes. It’s a little bit of this and a little bit of that and like Emeril would say a little bit of BAM! Ever hear of a Lagniappe (pronounced Lan-yap). A lagniappe is “something extra thrown in” and originates as an Italian word. This Southeastern Cuisine Chefs are brilliant with Lagniappe and spices…but it’s more than that. Gumbo? What kind would you like? Chicken, frog leg, shrimp, you name it, gumbo is more than stew. It’s like stew on steroids! Wow…and is it tasty.

The mood of the cook decides the taste. I hate to have a cook who has had a bad day! Often times, since a chef’s mood dictates taste, you often time will meet the heart and soul of the chef just by tasting their food.

Grocery stores are amazing in this region. The spices and racks of ingredients especially for Cajun cuisine take over aisles and have much to choose from and the smells over take you as you walk in automatic doors. It hits you sometimes so hard, your eyes will water. Little old ladies wobbling down aisles of Cajun ingredients inspecting each little canister of spice like it was priceless. The fresh baked breads and of course, gotta add some Cracklin in your cart to round off snack time. Cracklin’ you ask? Google it... It takes courage to eat Cracklin’.

I’ve eaten and love Jambes de Grenouilles. Only farm raised please. The ones out of the Bayou are touchy and can give you a good case of indigestion. And no folks, they do not taste like chicken. They taste like Grenouille!

Real Boulangerie’s and Boucherie’s exist for your pleasure – the old fashioned heart and soul French butcher and bread shops.

Want some really good food? Step up to the trailer with the graffiti on it in the back of the alley, walk right in and make yourself at home. The only thing this place is missing is a password and a drug addict to answer the door. It’s just darn scary walking up to this joint. A "Bienvenue Bon Creole" sign hangs crooked on the wall. Po’ Boys are their speciality. Po’ boy sandwiches originated in Acadian Country. Folks in the depression did not have the means anymore to really put great meat on their sandwiches so they started to put anything they could afford on them. Thus the name.

The heart of Acadian cooking is as unique as any cuisine in the US. Recipes generations old passed down and then blended with Spanish, Haitian and French… this style of cuisine is a heart burner in a good way. Be careful though… that hot sauce is HOT HOT HOT! So… if you have a chance to visit Acadian country..make sure you Throw in a little jazz, hot sauce (Louisiana hot sauce of course) and enough time in the mix…and then you can say you’re really cookin’! Laissez les bon temps roulez !!!!

Waiting Out The Heat

2011-09-03T11:53:00.000-04:00

The temperatures are soaring and tempers are growing short for almost the 100^th day in a row here. The brilliance of the sun pounds the asphalt at 325F/162C degrees lifting mirages off into the distance. The temperatures have been in the triple digits (and for my Celsius friends that’s upward near 43 degrees) and has been doing so consecutively for more than 90 some days. It started back on June 22^nd and has been relentless since then. Indeed it’s hotter than 14 Hades.

I remember those days riding in the thistle torn desert amongst hot thirsty cattle wondering when we would arrive safely at camp as we rode hearty horses to our next host’s destination. I learned to never dip my hat into a cattle trough full of algae and put it on my head as it made me smell like “cow” the entire day. Sweat less heat took our breath away as the oppressiveness of it rose to greet us by 8am. Hotter than 127F/50C.We shut our horses and ourselves down by nine a.m.

The desert is different; reprieve from heat comes on the heels of amazing sunsets. Not much but enough to bear it. Beautiful weather by 9pm and then easy sleep. We looked forward to that promise day in and day out. Eventually after riding 3 days on and one day off, it wasn’t enough rest for my horse and me. One of us went to the hospital, one of us was feeling pretty puny and even though I was drinking 2 gallons of water a day, my body needed more than water and rest; it needed a break from the heat and some electrolytes. Gatorade didn’t work. Then I started to notice the stagger in my horse. My black horse, Fancy. I went home.

We didn’t have to carry any gear; we had a support vehicle meet us every two miles for water breaks for the horses and for us. I remember those 212 miles in the desert.

In Western Oklahoma there is no promise of reprieve when the sun sets and begins a new day for my friends in Australia. The heat stays heavily and lingering with its boa constrictor grasp on its inhabitants like a constant unwanted blanket wrapping us too tightly near our throats. Our skin feels like fire and our eyeballs parched with screaming heat. Our lips cracked like the land itself separating as it begs for rain as this drought threatens existence as it did with the Maya.

With horse travel, I promised my horse and myself that if I didn’t have to subject my horse and me to the extremes of life, don’t do it; only if it’s a life or death matter.

An amazing offer of kindness came from my friend Anna on the way to Oklahoma. Anna wanted to go on this ride with me but for family reasons she is unable to go with me. Anyway, after looking for about 5 weeks for transport without success, her father offered to transport Evangeline and me ALL the way back to Louisiana so we can start there instead. Ironically, this long ride was happening partly to a true need of transport. The rates were outrageous and I figured I could ride Evangeline back for half the cost. Yes, horses truly get better gas mileage!

Usually I have no pace and no rush… but this time I have to be back by January 1^st to start school. Anyway, Anna’s father is able to take us back on Sept. 24^th.

There is a time for all of us to realize what is just good common sense. I hate that I have to wait until Sept 24^th to begin this odyssey. While in Oklahoma though I can work with Eve and help around the ranch there until that time comes. I will continue to assess Evangeline and get her more back up into shape, shots, coggins done and etc..before we depart.

That look in her eye says she is ready to go like I am..but I just have to wait out the heat and do what’s smart for BOTH of us. I have a feeling this heat won’t break until mid October. My original plan was to start on October 28^th so I am still ahead of the game.

Whether I leave now or in a few weeks or October 28th, the point is that I am leaving and continuing to live my dreams.

Over and out for now – September 3, 2011

Buffalo Moon Expedition - Equestrian Exploration Starts Tomorrow

2011-08-31T17:47:00.000-04:00

Equestrian Exploration starts tomorrow!!!

Here's how it unfolds. Hitch a ride with a friend through Austin, Texas. She is going to Colorado....and will drop me off in Faxon, Oklahoma on the way. Then....ride the Louisiana Territories until there's no more territory to ride. This all happened within the last hour and a half. Thank goodness, I am packed and ready to go!

Please subscribe here at http://megangist.blogspot.com. It's easier for me to document the history and this ride here on Blogger than any place else. Please tell your friends to follow as we want to document and share any Acadienne horse and human history as much as possible.

I should be under saddle by next Monday or Tuesday. Coggins are current but Evangeline needs shoes before we can go.

To reach me on the road, text is ok, as is email. I have unlimited minutes but not unlimited battery or time. I save any additional time for my better half to catch up with him for the next days plans. Please be patient with me as I get back to folks after that, time and energy willing.

Location updates will only be posted on the blog and shared personally with individuals who are needing to know where I am located at the moment.

Here is the general route: Faxon, OK----> southeasterly over the Red River in Ryan, OK, head southeasterly to visit the breeder of this wonderful four legged friend I am riding and then head on over to Mineola, Texas way. On into Shreveport area, but avoid Shreveport proper and the possibilities are endless there, down the western border of Louisiana to the Gulf of Mexico (ahhhh.....the Gulf Beaches in the Winter Time) then head east over to my hometown of New Iberia, on up the Mississippi River Trail, Cross the Mississippi Twice and back over westerly into the center of the state and straight down the center and back to home.

Ok folks... LET'S DO IT!

Happy Trails!

Long Rider Ghosts & Michelle's Bull Pen

2011-08-24T22:58:00.000-04:00

Michelle greeted me with a friendly hello when I walked in the door at her tack shop I had wanted to visit for about the last 8 or so years! Finally, I made up my mind to commit to a visit. Her website is cute right now... she has all things horse, her horses are her kids and amazing joyful countenance about her spirit! Love to be able to stay with her by horse if given the chance on some ride sometime in the future - maybe Ok to FL re-ride??? Please visit www.michellesbullpen.net often. She is in the middle of an update at this web address..but is happy to help you with tack, etc. Click here to visit the info for her store

Michelle and I both are senior horse and Tennessee Walking Horse fans. Her horse, Andy, passed at the remarkable age of 44!!! She has an amazing picture of the two of them under saddle at the age of 39.

I mentioned to her that I was "taking a 1000 mile ride by horse around the perimeter of Louisiana". We got to chatting and there was the ghost...right there in front of me..verbally appearing from her mouth when she said, "A man who was riding across country came through here about 8 years ago". I said, "Do you remember his name?" She said she couldnt' remember. But one of her vendors....a young Mr. Adams said, "You know, someone stayed with my dad in Kentucky a long time ago and he had already ridden several thousands of mile up until he stopped by our house." I said, "I reckon that would be Gene Glasscock". The Second Ghost appears.

He makes a call to his dad, Jerry Adams - A Tenn Walker afficienado himself, and a few minutes later the phone rings back and it was Gene. The elder Mr. Adams had been contacted by Gayle Gerber to stay with them on Gene's trek like she had done for him for so many times before that.

I said to the younger, "I know both of those people" and to Michelle, "If you can remember, let me know".

The ghosts of United States long riders are everywhere. You just never know when you will run into someone who has met up with one of "us". I directed them to the Long Riders Guild and also to my sites so they could see others who have been in the saddle in this fashion.

The phone rings. "Hmmm...505 area code. I have no idea who that is!". I didn't answer it as I was on the other line...and listened to a subsequent message comes in,"Hi Megan, this is Phil Moore." That's all I had to hear to call him back. Phil and I missed each other in Oklahoma on our rides in 2009. He was passing through Lawton on Sept 23rd, 2009. and I was in Blair, just 'up the road' that day on my first attempt. We had a great chat (thank you Phil) and can't wait to follow his next adventure that makes my ride look like a block long! CowboyPhilMoore.com is his site. Please take a peek if you have a minute. Phil plans to follow a Native American Trail of tears through MANY different states! "Keep in touch". Oh, I will Phil. Thanks for the call. Ghost number three disappears over the phone lines.

But when the last ghost appeared and I shed a tear. The song on the radio was Ronnie Dunn's "Cost of Livin". The Pensacola bay is about a mile long. The old Interstate bridge is now a footbridge. The interstate bridge runs parallel to the old one where cyclists and pedestrians cross daily. I take a peaceful look over the bay and through some humid fog I see an apparition of a man walking on the bridge. Very faintly, leading a horse perhaps a wagon. I blinked to shake it free. "I got steel toes, a strong back, I rarely call in sick. I work weekends, a good truck"...

I realized that this ghost cannot technically be categorized as a long rider in some ways, but a hero in others. The vision stuck in my head and Ernest Nunley's pass over this pedestrian bridge with his horses right around 2008 stared me in the face. He called me that day as he was crossing, to wish me well and see how I was doing. I called him friend. He passed away three weeks ago in the middle of his wagon ride across the country.

" What I don’t know, I catch on real quick, I work weekends,If I have to..."

These ghosts of long riders are everywhere as a human testimony of a dedication to history, equestrian travel and a sense of individuality that is inexplicable. They are, not matter how long it has been, remembered. No matter what they were to other people, past or present, no matter their behavior after the fact of their ride....for a brief moment, they were someone' s inspiration, someone's dream come try by horse and perhaps someone's sanity. Maybe someone's reason to live, I dunno. The mutual inspirational synergy between long rider and host is also unique.

This brings me great comfort with each ghost I run into.

" Give you 40, And then some, Whatever it takes, Three dollars and change at the pump, Cost of livin’s high and goin’ up."

500 miles today in the space of 9 hours by car... whizzing by the landscape as though you can cross the country by interstate and never see a thing.

Thank you Long Riders past and present.... yep....the cost of living is high... and going up..

Thanks to CMT for allowing me to embed this video.

Cost of Livin' - Ronnie Dunn - Ronnie Dunn Videos

The Wretched Refuse of your Teeming Shore: Acadian Country After All!

2011-08-21T21:24:00.001-04:00

Dean Jobb, author and Acadian history expert writes about the Acadian Deportation, “It was like a shame ... no one wanted to talk about it. ... a fracture in history, no one seems to remember how the deportation shattered the Acadian people.” May I add how no country wanted to claim them either. No one personally cared about them: they were pawns in a massive political power game of chess.

In steadfast faith the Acadians prayed what Kurt Vonnegut wrote: “The crucified planet Earth, should it find a voice and a sense of irony, might now well say of our abuse of it, "Forgive them, Father, They know not what they do." The Acadians cried out for belonging as Kurt Vonnegut’s book title well said that “They were men without a country”.

A very young Thomas Jefferson was presented with the opportunity of taking the fledgling United States into a world power when Napoleon decided to sell the Louisiana Territories to the United States in the Louisiana Purchase. The details of this Purchase have been long forgotten and so have the political turmoil surrounding this land transaction. Technically, this “sale” was "illegal" and violated the Third Treaty of San Ildefonso in several ways. The political powers at the time knew this and as we say in modern times, "just let that little detail slide".

Why would Napoleon take this huge piece of land and just sell it to the United States and take his foothold off the coastal regions of Louisiana and deep into the heart of the North American Continent? Well, in many ways, to tick the British and Spanish off!

Consider this. Is there a better way than to upset your political rivalry and punish them for deporting your country's people??? Believe it or not, the French government did not feel all that strongly about Louisiana. Despite the French colonization, it had been the Spanish running the territory for decades. The French got it back from a bad argument that Napolean had with the King Ferdinand as Ferdinand reneged on a promise to Napolean's older brother, Joseph Bonaparte to make him the next King of Spain in a peaceful fashion. Angrily, Napolean cried a massive political "Check Mate! " by showing his Emperasorial prowess by making a new Political Friend who hated and just became free of British Rule in 1789. I'm sure King George was not thrilled at all and the King Ferdinand probably became just as frightened of his newest most powerful next door neighbor as a country! Side note: Napolean won and eventually made his older brother King...but by force instead!

The French Government didn't really want the Louisiana Territories. They didn't have the ability to control it; they needed all of their troops in Europe to fight Napoleon's wars. So selling Louisiana to the Americans killed several birds with one stone:

It got rid of a territory that French Governance and Napolean didn't have the money to administer
It gave Napolean a nice infusion of cash
It helped cement the alliance between the US and France
It strengthened the US, especially giving them additional ports to control. That gave the US an incentive to strengthen its navy.

Makes sense doesn’t it? After cementing the relationship between France and the United States, the US now had charge of the French settlements in Louisiana. Home of the Free, democracy and apple beignets. Can you imagine the delight down on the Bayou that the United States now had governance over their settlements there (even among the skeptics, there had to be relief. These French settlements had been swearing allegiance to a new country on the average of once a year for nearly a century!).

No one wanted the Acadians…and now, finally, FINALLY! They had a country they could call their own who also wanted them. It was the first time in centuries that Acadians could just “be”, be their own countrymen and be in a country who promised them hope, happiness and the pursuit of life and liberty…. And the promise as a gift from France to the US which Our Lady in New York Harbor cries out to them: “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses, yearning to breath free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest tossed, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

Acadians from then on, could live life on their terms. Welcome Acadians, we hope you still feel right at home.

Disclaimer: By the way, I claim my British Colonist blood. I am 75% British and 25% Greek. I read French rather well and can speak it with a broken accent. I have nothing against any of these countries and am speaking of them only with historical context as a background for events. I hold NO bias against anyone’s nationality or country of origin.

For our reference, here is a map of the Louisiana Territory.

How Buffalo Moon Got Its' Name-

2011-08-18T19:23:00.001-04:00

When I had made the decision to live on a ranchette in Faxon, Oklahoma as a solo cowgirl, I figured I would need an appropriate name for my ranch.

My previous residences had been Shreveport, Louisiana and Austin, Texas. My better half (now resting peacefully in the arms of heaven) had a job in Shreveport and I had a job in Texas- hence we had two places .

While in Austin I became honorary "Auntie M" to Candice who is the daughter of one of my best best friends who now lives in Baton Rouge.

On the way to the barn every day, Candice and I would pass the "Brushy Bottom Bison Basin" and could never say it right. We would have to remember to say 'Bison' before 'Basin'. The unique thing about this place is that it is one of the few Buffalo rescues in the entire country. We would stop in and see if we could see any of these creatures roaming around and giggle about saying "brushy bottom bison basin" ten times really fast- as it's quite the tongue twister. GO ON I dare ya...do it- say it really fast.. If you make it ten times without stumbling and you're a pro! >smile<

Anyway, my move to Oklahoma came after the death of my better half, my father and a year of intense loss, included a cancer scare. I was talking with Candice one night after being in Oklahoma and said to her, 'Whatcha up to kiddo?" And she said, "Looking at the moon". I said back to her, "Wow, that's what I am doing too. It's nice to know we are looking at the same moon."

I had wished I could have spent more time with Laurie, Dave and Candice as I felt our time was cut short in Austin. I was missing my friends.

Candice and I chatted about other things and I asked her..."So what do you think I should name this ranch.?" And she said, Well, whatcha doin' now besides looking at the moon?" And I said, "not much"....and then out of the blue she exclaimed, "BRUSHY BOTTOM BISON BASIN!!!! That's it! I got the name... BUFFALO MOON RANCH!!'

Buffalo Moon started to attach itself to everything I did and ironically, I didn't realize that the state animal for Oklahoma WAS the buffalo. In addition to that I learned that the Buffalo were a sacred animal according to the Comanche Indian tribe, also located in and all around me. I was living on their reservation lands at the moment, after all. Buffalo Moon soon was attributed to adventure by horse. Buffalo medicine is powerful according to the native tribes.

So Candice (who I consider like a God-daughter) is the one who named this ranch. The name attaches itself to so many good memories. Buffalo Moon is also attached to a man by the name of Keith of Buffalo Moon Flutes. I googled Buffalo Moon and there Keith's beautiful flutes were made of buffalo horn (www.buffalomoonflutes.com) I contacted him out of the blue and in a coincidence kind of manner, Keith happened to know of Blaine (my dearly deceased) to some extent as Blaine was a concert flautist. We became friends.

So whenever I think Buffalo Moon I think of many things attached to my life both past and present, but mostly all the things I hold sacred that belongs to horses, my family, my current love relationship and my future. It was like the name was just meant to be.

The logo came later. It took about 10 hours to get the watercolors correct for Buffalo Moon's Logo and in each brush stroke, it strives to place visual value to that which is important to me.... being and staying connected to the people and animals I love, giving hope to those who need it in the future and living the dreams that float on the wind between the ears of a horse.

Buffalo Moon Expedition ..... it's more than just a name....it embodies a spirit!

A New Look for the Website and some Updates

2011-08-16T17:03:00.001-04:00

Please visit www.buffalomoonexpedition.com for new updates and a new look for the website for this year's Long Ride. The Acadian People's stories WILL be heard! Please click on the Collage Picture to see at full size.

Los Adeas - A stop on Evangeline's and my Route

2011-08-15T19:56:00.001-04:00

Wadsworth mentions this place as "three leagues west of Natchitoches...(sic) there was a mission ....in which Evangeline stopped ". I followed his direction and drove 9 miles west and out of the blue stood Los Adeas :under an oak tree....where the mission stood..."

Wadsworth's accuracy of place is incredible and one can map out the entire route Evangeline took in search of Gabriel. This is also a stop along my route and I have hopes to rest there as well in search of stories about the Acadian people.

Los Adaes, the symbol of New Spain in Louisiana, was once the capital of Texas and the scene of a unique cooperation among the French, the Spanish and the indigenous Native Americans. An area rich in archaeological finds, it thrives today as one of Louisiana's most intriguing state Historic Sites. ClickHERE for additional information about excavations at and resulting discoveries about the history of Los Adaes, courtesy of the Louisiana Division of Archaeology.
Los Adaes dates back to the early 1700s when a Franciscan missionary, Father Francisco Hidalgo, urged the French governor of Louisiana to establish a post near east Texas. The missionary's objectives weren't purely religious; he knew that such an action by the French would alert New Spain and cause the Spanish government to re-establish previously closed Spanish military posts and Franciscan missions. The founding of Natchitoches in 1714 by the Frenchman St. Denis and the subsequent construction there of Fort St. Jean Baptiste had the predicted effect. In 1716, the Spanish established six missions and one fort in east Texas.

In 1719, an attack on Mission San Miguel - 15 miles from the French Fort St. Jean Baptiste - alarmed the Spanish and they built a new presidio, or fort, to counter any further French intrusion into Spanish territory. The Presidio Nuestra Señora del Pilar de Los Adaes (Fort of Our Lady of Pilar at the Adaes) was surrounded by a hexagonal stockade with three bulwarks. In 1729, Spain designated Los Adaes the capital of the province of Texas. This made Los Adaes the official residence of the governor, and a house was constructed for him within the presidio. Los Adaes remained the administrative seat of government for the entire province for the next 44 years.

Life at Los Adaes was harsh. Poor land and crop failures meant constant food shortages and rainy weather often meant spoiled supplies. The nearest Spanish supply post was 800 miles away and that distance, combined with rain, floods and hostile Native Americans, resulted in chronic shortages of everything. Without the trade of the French at Natchitoches, the inhabitants of Los Adaes would have starved. Although Spain strictly prohibited trade with the French, the latter eagerly sought it. The French took advantage of supply shortages at Los Adaes, and an illicit trade soon flourished between the two posts.

In 1772, ten years after Louisiana was transferred to Spain, Los Adaes closed and the inhabitants moved to San Antonio. However, many of the 500 soldiers and family members soon left San Antonio and returned to Louisiana, where their descendants live today.

To the right is a diagram of the Presidio Nuestra Señora del Pilar de Los Adaes, ca. 1721, from the Benson Latin American Collection, University of Texas.

A Big Thank you goes out to my hosts at Los Adeas State Park when I stopped there and visited them late July 2011 for this information which is also posted on their website.

View Larger Map

Launch Date: October 28th 2011

2011-08-12T13:10:00.000-04:00

Our launch date has been established for Buffalo Moon Expedition 2011.

We will be gathering at Bayou Boarding Stables at 509 Landview Drive in New Iberia, LA (70560) to launch Buffalo Moon Expedition's Acadian Perimeter Prayer and Praise Ride around the great state of Louisiana at 10am that Friday Morning!

We hope you can join us in spirit or in person. You are more than welcome if you are local to ride the first day to the SUGARENA (permission pending). Please celebrate the Acadian People in Prayer and Praise as we kick off this Long Ride. The map you see is the Map of the Bayou Teche. The Bayou Teche played and still plays an important part in Acadian lifestyle and industry. The Bayou Teche is also the path that Evangeline took in her travels in Wadsworth Poem as did many Acadians as they settled here from Acadian Region of Canada after deportation.

Hope to see you there!

Faith, Wisdom, Chivalry, Virtue, Spirituality

2011-07-29T19:14:00.002-04:00

The Fleur de Lis is the symbol for the Louisiana Heritage Praise and Prayer ride. It's symbolic meaning is centuries old. The Acadian people held onto this symbol as a connection to their faith. As Evangeline held her faith and courage throughout her years of searching for Gabriel and as this poem also is an allegory for a lost deported people, this long ride has adopted this symbol for the same reason Evangeline and her Acadian country folks did so long ago. As this ride unfolds, we hope to be able to bring these flowers as a symbol of peace and healing, a place for women to be a "Flower of light" and also as a National Acadian symbol of pride.

All links are live and I thank Wikipedia for their entry on the Fleur de Lis.

You see, In the Middle Ages the symbols of lily and fleur-de-lis overlapped considerably in religious art. Michel Pastoureau, the historian, says that until about 1300 they were found in depictions of Jesus, but gradually they took on Marian symbolism and were associated with the Song of Solomon's "lily among thorns" (lilium inter spinas), understood as a reference to Mary. Other scripture and religious literature in which the lily symbolizes purity and chastity also helped establish the flower as an iconographic attribute of the Virgin.
In medieval England, from the mid-12th century, a noblewoman's seal often showed the lady with a fleur-de-lis, drawing on the Marian connotations of "female virtue and spirituality" also "Flower of light" symbolism has sometimes been understood from the archaic variant fleur-de- luce.

Images of Mary holding the flower first appeared in the 11th century on coins issued by cathedrals dedicated to her, and next on the seals of cathedral chapters, starting with Notre Dame de Paris in 1146. A standard portrayal was of Mary carrying the flower in her right hand, just as she is shown in that church's Virgin of Paris statue (with lily), and in the centre of the stained glass rose window (with fleur-de-lis sceptre) above its main entrance. The flowers may be "simple fleurons, sometimes garden lilies, sometimes genuine heraldic fleurs-de-lis. As attributes of the Madonna, they are often seen in pictures of the Annunciation, notably in those of Sandro Botticelli and Filippo Lippi. Lippi also uses both flowers in other related contexts: for instance, in his Madonna in the Forest.

The three petals of the heraldic design reflect a widespread association with the Holy Trinity, with the band on the bottom symbolizing Mary. The tradition says that without Mary you can not understand the Trinity since it was she who bore The Son. A tradition going back to 14th century France, added onto the earlier belief that they also represented faith, wisdom and chivalry.

By the Order of His Majesty the King -Sept. 1755

2011-07-17T19:03:00.006-04:00

Curiosity was getting higher as the ships pulled into port. The ladies doing their chores in the field were rife with curiosity. Then the news came that started to tear apart the people of the Acadian culture. Their heritage was broken in half, their language was considered dirty and as late as the 1970's individuals were scolded if they dare speak it in public. This was the end of the beginning. The date--- July 28th, 1755 is when the Decision was made. The following September 5th the King of England had this to say to a rather peaceful people:

"Gentleman, I have received from his Excellency, Governor Lawrence, the King's commision which I have in hand, and by who orders are conveyed together, to Manifest to you His Majesty's final resolution to the French inhabitants of the Province in Nova Scotia, who for almost half a century have had more indulgence Granted then than of of his Subjects in any part of His Dominions. What use you have made of them, you, yourself Best Know. The Part of Duty I am now upon is what, tho Necessary, is Very Disagreeable to my natural make and temper, as I Know it Must be Grievous to you who are of the same Specie. But is not my business to animadvert, but to obey such orders, as I receive, and therefore without Hesitation Shall Deliver you His Majesty's Orders and Instructions, Vist: That your land and Tennements, Cattle of all Kinds and Livestocks fo all Sorts are forfeited to the Crown with all other your effects, Savings your money and Household Goods, and you yourselves to be removed from this Province. This it is Peremptorily His Majesty's orders That the whole French Inhabitant of these Districts be removed, and I am, Throh his Majesty's Goodness Directed to allow you Liberty to Carry of your money and Household Goods, as Many as you Can without Discommoding the Vessels you Go in. I Shall do Every thing in my Power that all those Goods be Secured to you and are Not Molested in Carrying of them off, and also that whole Family Shall go in the Same Vessel, and make this remove, for which I am Sensible, must give you a great deal of trouble, as Easey as his Majesty's Service will admit, and hope that in what part of the world you my Fall, you may be Faith Subjects, a Peasable, Happy, People. I Must also Inform you That is is His Majesty's Pleasure that you remain in Security under the/and Direction of the Troops that I have the Honor. To Command."

Happy people? After that news?!?!

New York Times- July 17, 2002: On December 9, 2003, two hundred and forty eight years later, a Royal Proclamation was signed in Canada wherein Queen Elizabeth acknowledged for the first time the wrongs admitted in the name of the English crown during the Acadian deportation of 1755-1763. Additionally, the Proclamation sets aside every July 28th starting in 2005 as a day of commemoration for the "Great Upheaval". The 10,000 men, women and children exiled from Nova Scotia are the ancestors of many south Louisiana's French-Acadian or Cajun people. Evangeline finally got her due!"

This long ride takes Evangeline's and every deported Acadian's story and brings it to life by horse: to tell the experiences of their heritage and to create a living history about the Acadian people who settled here in Southern Louisana. Evangeline rides again in effigy and in passion for the Acadian people who had the fight of their lives on their hands and who survived a holocaust all of their own.

Object and Light

2011-06-27T18:57:00.001-04:00

It's like the tipping of an object to a light in some fashion. I am the object, you are the observer. Does the light refract at just the right angle so you can understand me? There are many people who experience life in this manner. Those who are the object and those who are the observers of the object. Memories are what come between the light and are kept in that invisible prismatic space of object and observation. Today during my studies on teaching I re-encountered and re-acquainted myself with the enduring question....."What is teaching". Here... teaching is the object...but who is the observer? Are you weary and frustrated trying to turn someone into something they aren't? Are you frustrated with the people in your life who need emotional healing and you know it but they won't admit it? Fortunately,I am blessed in my life right now to not have any of that dichotomous feelings. I am not torn between two loves, I am not even torn between two horses....In fact I am not torn at all between anything. Clear and focused, I am the observer and the object at the same time.

I had this idea for an blog entry as I was thinking about those equestrian explorers before me...not just those who are living and breathing today, but those folks who were deported from Canada sent elsewhere when they didn't swear allegiance to the King of England. That deportation created most of southern Louisiana's population, Louisiana Creole, a haven for foodies all over the United States. The equestrian explorers of those times had much more land to work with as the Louisiana coast line gets thinner and thinner as a massive alluvial fan spreads Louisiana and all the other 14 bordering states of the Mighty Mississippi Seaward in an attempt to reclaim its own fate.

Louisiana, my home state for the second time...well, sorta....I continue to commute between Florida and here for work reasons. I thought to myslef, "I wonder how this state is laid out for horse travel?" I came to find out that this state being settled over 300 years ago and more than 1000 years ago by the indigenous tribes that each town is only 10-15 miles apart at any given distance at any given point all across the Pelican state or Sportman's Paradise, whatever the People of da Bon Temps want to call it!

It's all about observation and objectivity, it seems... and this route --- all 1006 miles of it --- cutting off New Orleans for the sake of safety seems like a short jaunt. 1000 consecutive miles under saddle three years ago seemed like a long way.. having ridden 1000 INCONSECUTIVE miles and with equestrian exploration experience seems just like a mere pittance in some regard. A 118 day journay at the most to complete what we started.. EMOTIONAL HEALING for those who suffer from life's situational maladies and a special regard to those who have had cancer as a memorial and tribute to their lives ...both here and in the hereafter.

Things are changing quite like mad and the River is changing course... This river of life and the Mississippi..I'm just wondering if the River or I will change first. Observation and Objectivity --- tipping of an object to the light - and everywhere and everything now is rainbow, rainbow, rainbow...

Vortex Springs, Florida National Trail

2011-06-11T21:49:00.000-04:00

Vortex Springs pumps 28 million gallons of water PER DAY into a clear water spring that goes up to 125 feet deep. I am here tonight camping out as it was a long day dragging the trailer from New Iberia, LA to here. 443 miles via the back roads and 363 via the interstate. My hosts here are generous and we got to talking about riding the Florida National Trail by horse...and they are gracious enough to let me stay here when I come through on horseback one of these months ahead of me. Perhaps this is a launch point or an end point...I haven't decided yet.. even though it would save almost 1000 dollars in gas if I rode Goldie back to Louisiana.

A BIG THANK YOU TO MY HOSTS here and Melissa.. this ride is for you and your family. We always ride for those who have had cancer or been touched by cancer in their family. Your family members are being remembered as I type. Hope to see you someday soon on my trusty steed!

Brief thank you to those who stop by and visit our blog

2011-05-24T00:46:00.001-04:00

... I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for stopping by our blog and keeping up with the Legacy Ride for Cancer. Like you out there in San Mateo, California, Shreveport, Louisiana, Lititz, Pennsylvania...and all the others too long to list. I thank you and wish you many blessings and honor you if you have been touched by cancer in anyway. We would love to see you comment if you have the time so we can put your names on our honor/memorial/legacy wall. Don't be bashful....
~Gratefully Yours - The Legacy Ride for Cancer 2011

Virtual Memorial Service (For Bill and his Family)

2011-05-21T17:25:00.000-04:00

Bill you now are at peace and you were the catalyst for the Legacy Ride for Cancer. That dream about a cancer ride all started with visions of crossing the finish line at Twin Springs Farms, with your arms wide open to welcome 500 horses. It turned out to be a trek with Mark and me across Texas instead. We talked about you the entire way, met people who empathized with you. We are grateful to have Twin Springs Farms mother/daughter pair to continue to ride in the name of those who have been touched by Cancer. Bill... your fight was just about two years from diagnosis and Gloria, you fought alongside with him as his wife and loving support through these times. Gloria --- you presented an amazing testimony of love and faithfulness for your husband. This virtual memorial service and prayer is for you both and your family. Today you had a private gravesite service for Bill who lost his fight to Cancer on 5/11/11 at 1:15 am.

Heavenly Father,

We light this candle in memory of Bill and others who have died from cancer and pray for those who have lost loved ones. Bless them, Father, to feel their loved ones near, yet free from the pain and suffering of this world. Bless them to know that the bonds of love are eternal, that their loved ones feel their love and are mindful of them, that they will be reunited again with homecoming of great beauty and joy.

So many lives and families are affected by this terrible disease. Nearly all of us are touched in some way, either suffering ourselves or caring for a loved one in pain and our hearts ache, missing those who have passed on. Bless each who suffer and battle this disease with strength and guidance that they might overcome. Bless each heart in despair with courage, hope and to find your peace. Bless each caregiver with stamina, compassion, wisdom and love.

Bless those who have passed from this world and draw them to you. Bless us to find the ways to cure this terrible disease. Bless those who research and work toward a cure to be guided, that their minds might be open and enlightened to the blessings of help you desire for all of us. Thank you, Father, for your tender mercies and unconditional love.

Bless us to overcome this terrible disease, we pray in the name of your beloved son, Jesus Christ, amen.

"Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear, and they will be filled with joy and gladness." Isaiah 51:11

"The young women will dance for joy, and the men --old and young--will join in the celebration. I will turn their mourning into joy. I will comfort them and exchange their sorrow for rejoicing." Jeremiah 31:13

"Don't let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father's home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. And you know the way to where I am going." John 14:1 - 4

"I am leaving you with a gift -- peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid." John 14:27

"Father, I want these whom you have given me to be with me where I am. Then they can see all the glory you gave me because you loved me even before the world began!" John 17:24

"Can anything ever separate us from Christ's love? Does it mean he longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? ......... No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow -- not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below -- indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:35 - 39

"No eye has seen no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him." 1 Corinthians 2:9b

"And God will raise us from the dead by his power, just as he raised our Lord from the dead." 1 Corinthians 6:14

"Be on guard. Stand firm in the faith. Be courageous. Be strong. And do everything with love." 1 Corinthians 16:13

"All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort." 2 Corinthians 1:3

"Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies." 2 Corinthians 4:10

"For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands" 2 Corinthians 5:1

"For we will put on heavenly bodies, we will not be spirits without bodies." 2 Corinthians 5:3

"We would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord" 2 Corinthians 5:8b

"Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6 - 7

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died." 1 Thessalonians 4:13 - 14

"So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold -- though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world." 1 Peter 1:6 - 7

"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." Hebrews 11:1

The Little Things

2011-04-23T21:01:00.001-04:00

My Uncle Dick is 84 years old. In his 60's he used to bike 20 miles, swim the Gulf Channel from Bellair to Clearwater and back (2 miles) and then go out and party all night with his friends at the local bar. He has done this since 1978 up until turning 80 and then he changed venues and took up friends at a community center and did this up until about 45 days ago. He had quadruple bypass and come through in stellar health. In fact, better health than me in so many ways. He had lasik done on his eyes just a few years ago and has 19/19 vision; has women in their 50's vying for his affection.

My uncle is a famous beach artist that everyone knows. People have taken down their "Renoir" to replace it with his paintings. The thing that he said that sticks in my mind from our most recent visit was, "I can't tell you how much we take for granted the little things....like reading a book in a lawn chair in the sunshine and being contemplative."

It's been awhlie since I heard someone talk about the simple, meaningful things in life. So......when is the last time you enjoyed something this simple and so meaningful? For those out there who practice this with mindfulness, we need you to teach others how to forget fear and live simplistically and without mind clutter and we thank you for being inspirational. And for those who need to be more emotionally free -- take the emotional risk and live .... take your own life into your own hands. People will forgive you, your kids will forgive you, your family will forgive you...even your dog will forgive you (and often be the first). What ever "it" is that stops you from beeing emotionally free...and if you have the power to change it...DO IT..and do it in haste! Because if you continue to argue your limitations, they shall be yours... Forgiveness IS powerful...and even more powerful if we forgive ourselves FIRST.

Indian Rocks Beach - Since 1978

2011-04-15T20:42:00.001-04:00

There's no place like home and it doesn't get any better than this. Ironically there are no horses in sight...or maybe we can't see them as they can be as invisible as air and all around us in spiritus. Click the picture for a full size view. If we could experience all the things life from this beach chair, it wouldn't be enough....or would it??

The Friendliest of America

2011-04-14T11:31:00.000-04:00

Today, I saw one car cut off another car. A major dose of road rage was on it's way when the man came to stop, rolled down his window, the other car did the same and...... the man who cut the other one off APOLOGIZED. These two gentlemen had a two minute conversation about life right there in the turn lanes onto US19 heading north. If we could replace all the drive by shootings with drive by love.... how nice would that be? Ironically, when we ride through the small towns and weave a path into the fabric of America we give out drive by love by horse. The thought for today..... When horses were our only means or transportation....were we more civilized if we cut each other off in horse traffic? None the less what I saw today and on four other attempts is that there are still some of the friendliest in America here willing to say, "I'm sorry."

In Honor of WJC

2011-04-13T11:57:00.000-04:00

I know he didn't want me to, so I will and keep his name private. You were the catalyst for the Legacy Ride and now it's not long now that perhaps you will cross over. You taught me all I know about a horse breed that has graced our lives for the last two years. We pray courage and strength for you today for you and your family. Thank you for all that you have done in the horse world. The world and it's horses are a better because of your contributions to ethical horse practices, training, and love for our equine friends. Hang in there friend...and if tomorrow you draw your last breathe due to this horrible disease, this ride will live on in your name honoring and celebrating your life in so many ways.

Social Responsibility to Ride

2011-03-23T12:25:00.000-04:00

My mother's heart is breaking today as a friend of hers has three months to live and has been diagnosed with cancer. I watch her avoid the feelings like she always has done with sickness (out of her own fear of understanding "why?")

Today, The Long Ride for Cancer pounds hard in my chest like an ever continuing wave that crashes onto the shore. The sirens sing their song to me even stronger now as my propensity to get back on that horse for the social responsibility of riding in honor of all of those who had and have cancer just brings me to tears today.

Can I do an online certificate program to become a teacher by horse? YES! I can. Do I have any responsibilities that tug at me besides my phone bill? No, I don't. My life is rather simple. I have little monthly responsibility as I am in a family home, no possessions and two horses who are at the ready.

Will it ever go away???? The longing to constantly be out there riding for those who have been touched by cancer or those who emotionally struggle??? My soul just aches to have to see my family go through cancer with those they love....or anyone else for that matter. I put the Jenkins Family on the Honor Roll today.

My mother, bless her heart, met one of my horses for the first time since I have had one in my care. I didn't start riding until I was 19 and on my own and now - 24 years later she still abhors them. Hates them. My equine friend went to snuggle up to her and give her a friendly hello..and at 71, she jumped straightaway back 8 feet with just a simple head toss of "I"m here, come pet me". She hates them because she is terrified of them... She would much rather send me on a cruise at her expense than have me keep a horse or two. She has traveled all over the world....but never has had any moments between the ears of a horse. Well, when except she was a little 8 year old...her father put her on the back of a Crabby Unbroken Shetland Pony. She was up to the challenge...but it got the best of her. She slid off easy...with only her pride hurt and never got back on. "They are bigger than me," she says.

Today her friend is dying of cancer...and I must ride. But how? It only takes 8-12 weeks??? I live in her home all expenses paid here by this woman who hates the air horses breathe....and with her hatred for horses, my attempts have been nothing but me shirking responsibility to the world....and one more attempt would just throw me out of the security in my home for certain.

But maybe, just maybe, if I told her was riding for her.... It kills me today.. that the Legacy Ride for Cancer is now for her and the growing opportunity for this ride presents itself again. I'll know that one day I will wake up and say "let's go"...without her knowing, I'll just say, "I'm going for a trail ride" and come back 12 weeks later. Florida National Trail is pretty this time of year... With sideways miles..... I can turn an actual 757 miles into 1000... 500 miles north and than back again. And maybe this time she will understand.

Our Horses Honor those who Fight Against Cancer

2011-03-06T17:59:00.000-05:00

Just a brief thought today. Even though our miles have ended riding from Oklahoma to Florida, your fight and those who fight for cancer...their struggle is NOT over. Thus, every time we saddle up in the interim as ride to prepare for our next long rider journey, our horses and our riding will continue to honor all of you whose lives have been touched with cancer. We saddle up every time in honor of you!

The Robinson Family - Honoring Dawna

2011-01-19T17:09:00.000-05:00

Very briefly.

Please take a moment of silence today to honor Dawna Robinson and her family. Namely Bob, my friend and fellow adventurist from the Mississippi River Trail. May blessing shower Dawna as she is revealed the full power of heaven and grace. You are missed I am sure by so many friends and family. And to the Robinson Family, know that there are always people out there who will keep her memory alive. This ride was and will be for her when I resume again.

Peace and Blessings,
Megs