Timed our early breakfast perfectly as fresh hot cinnamon rolls were being dished up. Good job we weren't dining alone as we'd have happily polished them all off.
As Mr F headed out for some morning birding, I relaxed in front of the TV and prepped for my riding trip at noon. Remembering how black with horse grease my jeans got in Yosemite, I opted for my affectionately named 'jungle' trousers. Not too pretty but comfy, hard wearing and do an honest day's work - I sound like a cowboy already!
Cottonwood Canyon Ranch was run by Georgia, who not only trained most of her 13+ horses but rescued a good number of them too. My horse was Chilli, Georgia's husband's porter horse and very lovely he was too with perky ears and a lovely red hot chilli coloured coat. He was also pretty damn tall so I definitely needed the mounting block to haul myself....sorry, climb nimbly into the saddle. And hoorah for western saddles! I honestly wonder how the English saddle still survives.
The ride was spent very pleasantly getting to know Chilli and chatting with Georgia about barrel racing and training horses for Search and Rescue.
I was genuinely sorry to say goodbye at the end and before parting we came to a very amicable agreement. When I won it big in Vegas I'd move to Palm Springs, cough up the dough for a huge new horse ranch and Georgia would teach me everything she knows! Life sorted.