My parents gave me the love of riding horses and the mountains. Each summer, our family would pack up and ride 20 miles into the mountains and camp for a week to 10 days. My first pack trip was when I was two years old. I rode my own horse. When I got tired, my Dad would just put me in front of his saddle and I'd take a nap while we kept exploring the mountains. Some of the best days of my life were there in the mountains. There were 6 of us and we loved being so far up in the mountains that we would rarely see another soul. Yes, there were times we spent the day in our tent, reading, playing cards and napping, while it poured outside. Many mornings there was frost, so hunkering around the campfire was a necessity!
This is a picture of me when I was three on one of our pack trips. The memories made are priceless from sitting with my Dad on the hillside watching the horses graze, sucking on lemon drops while we rode along, eating fresh trout that my brother caught, to cuddling in our sleeping bags and endless more. My Mom journaled each of our trips, and yes I have them!
Life is precious, so please take time to breathe in the wonderful world we live in. MancosHomes.com
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