Edgewood, New Mexico February 27th, 2018

From “On Trails” by Robert Moor

The word for path and road is the same in Cherokee: nvnoho, “the rocky place,” a place where the soil and vegetation have already been worn away.
….we generally don’t make trails unless there is something on the other end worth reaching. It’s only once an initial best guess is made, and others follow it , that a trace begins to evolve into a trail. Thus a trail grows-a hunch is strengthened to a claim, a claim splits into a dialogue, a  dialogue frays into a debate, a debate swells into a chorus, and a chorus rises, full, now, of clashes and echoes and weird new harmonies, with each new voice calling out…” This way,This way, This way.
It is impossible to fully appreciate the value of a trail until you have been forced to walk through the wilderness without one.

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My path/trail recently took me to Bear Mountain Lodge where the multifaceted art project, One Million Bones has found a home, a resting place.  I had never heard of the One Million Bones project until Pat Wolph told me about it. As a member of Back Country Horseman she helped with her horses as many members did to haul the bones from the parking area to a meadow up the Lodges Old Windmill Trail. One Million Bones primary purpose is to bring awareness to the world wide genocides which have occurred and continue to occur. One million bones were crafted from clay or paper mache by “artists” from all 50 states and 30 foreign countries. The creators were of all ages, genders and ethnicities. The website is www.onemillionbones.net

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The word I will use to describe the sight is, sobering.

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On a lighter note… Rosie and I passed through Silver City again and I spent a couple of days catching up on business at Pat Wolph’s lovely Casita. On a run to town Pat and I stopped at at Silver Shoe Repair in Silver City. I’d been looking for heel cleats for my boots and for the most part had given up hope of ever finding the horseshoe shaped cleat I’d found in New Elm, Minnesota years ago. The heel cleats keep my boot heels from wearing out, its the pavement walking that wears them so.  Like the horses who have horse shoes I use a steel cleats on my boots. I have been making them or rather a handy hand has been making them usually by cutting a stainless steel washer in half and counter sinking holes for screws.  Now shoe repair shops are few and far between. They are a thing of the past, have their own smells and ancient looking machines that fill the back rooms. I love these shops. So of course I must stop and visit and ask questions. David Wait had only been repairing shoes for 6 years. Once a carpenter, “Um I said, well that must have helped in becoming a shoe repairman.” A quiet unassuming man, much like other shoe repairman I have met. Maybe its the work that makes them like that, sort of like imagining a elf in the back room quietly tapping out shoes while we sleep. Any way in an old box high on a shelf were stainless steel heel cleats, the real kind that look just like horseshoes.

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There they are Dave’s holding real heel cleats. Pat can’t believe my enthusiasm over new heel cleats. Notice the machinery in the back ground.

Turned out Dave and Pat were neighbors but had never met until that day. Smiles

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A so my “Travels with Rosie” is coming to an end. We had our last ride at the Empire Ranch, north of Sonoita, AZ. with two of her friends from Tennessee. We have had 4 months of Southwest travel, several afternoon rides with warm sun and cold nights. We have strung out behind us a list of new people we have met that we can now call friends and many sunsets and moon rises we shall never forget. It’s been a great winter. But now I must look at my ride in France and riding with Lynx Vilden through the Dorgdone Region. The saddles and equipment have already been shipped over thanks to OutFitters Supply.  Rosie is taking me and my girls north to Nebraska where they will stay at the Butch and Jeannie Grace home for the 2 months I’ll be in France. I fly out of Denver airport on the 6th of March.

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Ok until later. Happy Trails. Bernice