Around the Bluhmin’ Town

By

Judy Bluhm

Have you ridden a horse lately? My girlfriend invited me on “an easy ride” in Cave Creek. I have ridden horses for thirty years but not lately, since my old horses passed on to heavenly pastures. My new ride was a large, quarter horse named Bolt. Okay, that should have been my first red flag. But no, I was assured that Bolt has “given up his racing days” and is calm like a baby.

Second red flag. I never had calm babies. They cry, might have a temper tantrum and could become fussy for no apparent reason. Yet sometimes our better judgement fades. And the thought of a pleasant trail ride on a beautiful autumn day is so enticing that it seemed like a perfect plan. What could go wrong?

My greatest riding horse, Baxter, was a steady fellow out on the trail. I recall riding with a group of women when a rattle snake slithered onto the path, causing horses to startle and crow-hop while riders tried to maintain control. Baxter was not bothered by snakes. Or the behavior of other horses. He just stood still like a statue while the snake slid under him and away into the brush. Baxter then took the lead that day, as if to say to the other horses, “Line up behind the brave one.”

My nieces in Ohio are visiting next Spring and plan on taking a mule ride down the Grand Canyon. “Come join in on the fun,” they texted me. No, sitting on a mule traversing winding trails, with steep drop-offs, for six hours is not my idea of fun. Oh, and you must be quiet while riding, as screaming in terror is not allowed.

Back to Cave Creek, there is a long history intertwined with horses. Cave Creek was settled around 1870 by Cavalry soldiers from Fort McDowell. Early miners relied on mules and horses to get to the area, and ranchers came through with cattle. By 1878, a stagecoach line ran from Phoenix to Prescott, often stopping in Cave Creek. Today, the town still proudly showcases its “Old West” heritage.

When I moved to Arizona thirty years ago, I visited Cave Creek for the first time. There on the “main drag” was a Dairy Queen. A cowboy on horseback was sitting at the drive-through window getting an ice cream cone for himself and one for the horse. I didn’t know horses liked ice cream.

Last Saturday, I rode Bolt through the historic trails of Cave Creek. The first five miles were great. But as we headed back to the barn, Bolt started speeding up his pace. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t notice, but I could sense he wanted to lope ahead. A better rider would have done a one-rein stop and circled him, getting him to slow down. I turned him around once to a stop. Oh, what the heck, Bolt. Let’s go. I gave him a kick and off we went, loping the last mile. I was scolded later for indulging Bolt. I didn’t mean to stirrup trouble. At least I didn’t give him ice cream

Riding? Keep calm and trot on.

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local realtor. Contact Judy at [email protected] or visit www.aroundthebluhmintown.com.