Friday night we drank with the finest, camped under the stars (and some really strong powerlines) betwixt four ponies and two big trucks. Slumber should have been much easier, considering the amount of PBR that was consumed by each of us, but since the fat white horse can't be still without eating things, she beat on the trailer all night and into morning. Morning came with a strong headache and "Virginia's best omelette" by a Greek man who opened a shack in the middle of nowhere to distribute his delicious goods to the hill people.
Words can 'nary describe how I feel about living here and participating in such occasions. The people here are magnificent, so accepting, so warm and friendly. They are outspoken and humble at once. They play hard, work harder and you'll never hear a complaint from their mouths. They live quietly, within their means and at their own pace. It's where I've always wanted to be, and I couldn't possibly be happier anywhere else. I wouldn't be sad if I never left.
The beginning of the wagon train, when everyone was semi cohesive. This isn't all the wagons, as I think there were eight, maybe more. But there are a LOT of stops along the way, and those stops always include a refill from the bartender's wagon.
Lunch break. Riders usually split off of the wagons to run and play and wait.
The horse to your left is Dakota (he's getting a new name when his title reads mine). But look how good of a picture it makes when both the man AND horse of my dreams are combined!
This is a southern reality.
Look at that gorgeous cowboy I found!
The stops become more frequent and haphazard as the wagon drivers become more intoxicated.
An entire day atop my favorite borrowed steed and I'm the happiest, and sleepiest, girl you know.
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