Long Ago and Not So Far Away

There is a story behind the old, grainy photos of a pair of chestnut horses that I shared for WW yesterday.

Many moons ago  a couple of friends and I saddled up our horses and headed for Murphy Lake, up south of Wells. It was a long ride. Out and back took three days. Our mounts were a stallion, a mare in the mood, and a young gelding who thought he was all that...a manly man, if you get my drift.

Along the way we camped on the Great Sacandaga, near a little inlet that is now lined with berths for boats.

I saw common mergansers for the first time on that trip, when I stumbled down to the lake with my glasses off to brush my teeth one morning.

I have told the story of the inebriated fellows in search of nature's rest facilities who blundered into the horses in the dark. I have no doubt told the story of riding a black horse in the woods on opening day of early bear season. 

And the story of catching a nice trout while I was sitting on a log over the water untangling someone else's line, with the bait dangling just over the water. 

I am not sure I have, or should, ever tell the story, of the soap opera of equine romance that took place among the three horses all weekend. Talk about a love triangle.

Anyhow, I will always remember the location of every single bridge between Broadalbin and Northville. This is because the mare, Molly, didn't like them and jumped into the center of the road every time we crossed one.

Or a broken bridle, which caused Magnum and me to make the trip with only a halter and lead rope...he sure did neck rein at the end of all that.

Or the utter insanity of galloping up the hills of the last few miles...the horses wanted to be home and so did we. So what if it was dark. I plead youth and foolery and no one was hurt in the making of these memories. I think there was a foal born the next year, and although Magnum...the gelding...was willing and eager, I am pretty sure Lad, the stallion, was the daddy.

Anyhow, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.