Amanda: the keys to Paris

I can’t quite remember when I last reported.

Roz had a great start to her run and then the thunder started Things went south. Everything was “I can’t. I am scared.” I got the sheep to near the shedding ring, warning her not to come back without the sheep but it was not satisfactory. They stopped the running after mine for an hour. I was mad at Roz. She had to sleep in crate.



The next morning saw improvements. Kak, Mish, and I joined Bruce Clatterbaugh on a horseback ride up the Marvine Creek watershed. I rode Paint, who was very sure footed. We went up the water shed about eight miles to a high lake on the Flat Top, where Bruce was picking up four male-bonding, wannabe wilderness adventurers. He led a string of four horses on which they were to ride out, and his pal Ron led two pack horses on which all their stuff was to travel. Bruce was my banker, now retired, and doing outfitting for the rich and famous who come to Meeker for fishing and hunting. The ride was a triumph for a couple of reasons: a diversion from the radical disappointments of thunderstruck dogs; the postcard beauty of the surroundings; the careful but willing horses; and the entertaining company. No motorized anything is allowed in the wilderness spaces, not even chainsaws, and definitely not ATV’s. Horse, or on foot, is the only way to get there.

We got back in time for handler’s dinner where Barbara Ray and I, joined a handful of others to be hypnotized. It was a little like being stoned, very relaxing. I can’t tell if my sore back came from the riding all day or the dancing we did at the prompt of the hypnotizer. He was persuasive. The crowd was entertained.



Today we watched the semi finals. Clive ran pretty well and we have drawn up third tomorrow morning for the big one.




This now being Monday morning, many of you have heard that Clive won Meeker. I ran third, a desirable draw. I wore my sweater spun out of Campbell Hansmire sheep (the Meeker sheep) and knitted for me by my pal Val, at the Hotel Dieu Hospital in Kingston. His first outrun was good. A gunshot went off across the river in his first fetch, and in retrospect it might have shaken him a little and been responsible for the nonsense at the first fetch panel, which he missed. Sound sensitivity is a bad vice that rears its head at inopportune moments. Think of Roz in the thunder. After that everything went extremely well with a slight low crossdrive, but good panels and turns. At the shed I had a collared villain I named scarface for a permanent blemish that showed she tustled with something several months ago. She never gave up trying to exit the ring. She broke out once, costing me my point there. When down to two uncollared sheep, I had to go to plan b, and take them out one at time, or she would have gone again. Clive saved the day, bringing her back. He penned boldly. I then had to wait all day for the great dogs and handlers who ran after me but none could quite catch it. Jean Gellings had a winner on the go but Star gripped, uncharacteristically, at the shed and was disqualified.

I am honoured to run among the hands I run with. And doubly honoured to win this big hard trial on the western slope of Colorado.



The dogs are having abed fest this morning. Today I am fly fishing on the White River with all the dogs and slowly making my way down to Carbondale for the US national Finals.