Amanda: Solider Hollow, Day 1

At daybreak on Wednesday, Blake, Joni and I went fishing on the Tongue River Reservoir. Bodies of water are always a miracle in these arid settings. something out of sync with the immediate environment. We drove an hour or so from Clearmont and put the boat in next to a a picnic area known as Rattlesnake Point. There were no picnickers there. We floated around the lake with our lines in. Blake let the girls fish. We caught some croppies and some perch, a few small small mouthed bass, throwing them all back. We watched an osprey hope something we threw back was his. It was meditative, perfect temperature. the measure of a fishing trip is never the number of fish you catch after all. It is the act. The suspension of all else but the angles and water outdoors. Beautiful.

We came home with a stop in Sheridan where I got a new life changing temperpedic mattress. Joni and Blake helped me make the move.

In the evening we ran dogs as soon has it was cool enough. Joni did an international shedding lesson with Michael Gallagher. I worked outruns far up the field until the darkness called it all off.

We drank some Closson Chase wine and dined on shellfish risotto, ready for the ten hour drive onto Soldier Hollow in the morning.



I had a couple of of ho hum runs at Soldier Hollow. One of them, with Dorey qualified me for the final day on Monday. But I failed to pen with any of them. Such a disappointment. I trust my dogs to pen almost anywhere, under nearly any circumstances. Today I had a lone run with Dorey at an unfavourable time of day, in the mid afternoon. The time was shortened from thirteen to twelve minutes for today’s trial and there were very few pens. The sheep were exceptionally difficult there. We spent a long day watching the interesting running of Soldier Hollow and I mad a rash promise to pen or die. It was quoted back to me frequently, for everyone’s amusement.



I had a reasonable go around the course with Adorable, one bolting ewe, trying her everywhere. The shed happened, but just barely keeping them in the ring. Onto the pen. Dorey did a couple of fluid flips that turned the wild one into the others. She had them in the mouth. One’s nose was just past. I broke with our usual pattern of just saying c’mon and asked to come by. She said “Really?” Took one step left and the sheep went in. What a moment. The crowd went wild and started yelling Dorey’s name. Dorey did a parade past, jumped in the water, and turned for a photo shoot. She became a star. Tomorrow. I run Monty, second up. Cool. I have my hopes up high.