The smoke from the wildfires surrounds us. Folks tell us that smoke from the California wildfires have made the air quality even worse. Still we press onward.
We spent most of the day traveling gravel roads. It is a circuitous route to Spring Creek Basin from Dolores. We arrived at the wild horse management area around three in the afternoon. As soon as we entered the gates, we spied eight horses. They were extremely shy but not as skittish as they were during our last visit. The horses looked better than I expected, considering the drought and limited vegetation.
The Spring Creek herd consists of about 80 horses. The area where they reside is vast and much of it inaccessible by vehicle. We drove deep into the hills but turned around when the road became nearly impassable. We decided to drive down another road that seemed to lead to a greener area. As the road neared its end, I spied several horse heads peeking above the foliage. David backed up, and sure enough, we spied a half dozen or more horses in a draw, nearly 50 yards from us.
We abandoned the truck and hiked towards the horses. All were at attention, ears perked in our direction. The horse trail we were following appeared to block the horses. Not wanting to spook them, we climbed to the top of the draw, overlooking the horses. They seemed curious but not frightened of our presence. The horses were gathered around a small spring. They would paw the ground, making an indentation that would fill with water so they could drink. As with most wild horses, they took turns drinking. David counted 18 horses, including foals. While we watched, the first group took to the hills above the draw and opposite us.
I love observing animals in their natural habitat. After about a half hour, we left the horses to make our way to our camp spot for the night. It was the same one we had used during our first visit and not far from the original eight horses we met earlier. As we connected with the main road, we saw the horses from the watering hole galloping towards us. We stopped the truck and watched them meet up with the other group of horses. After a few minutes, they all began to graze. We left them to set up camp.
About an hour later, the entire group meandered up the road near our camp. We sat still, hoping they would come closer. No such luck... they took off, splitting into two bands and hightailing it across the plains. A group of five bachelor stallions moseyed behind, taking their time.
Although the temperature was well in the 90s when we arrived, it began to cool down as the sun set a deep red because of the fires. We had a pleasant night’s sleep. Alas, as we left the basin, the horses were so far in the distance, we could barely make them out in the smoke-filled horizon.
We left rather early in the morning, hoping to make the Sandwash Basin herd by afternoon. We decided to stop by the visitor centre in Fruita to make certain the way was clear. It was a good thing we did. Our preferred route was closed because of a wildfire. Crews were hoping to use the road as a break to prevent the fire from jumping. So we backtracked to Grand Junction and took I-70 to Highway 13 and on toward Maybell.
We arrived at Sandwash late afternoon and set up camp on the bluff, overlooking the river. The next morning, we were in the truck early, anxious to find horses. We tried a different route into the horse management area and soon spied horses. Most were uncooperative, but we found a small band that seemed approachable. As we took photos, a second stallion moved in. We thought there might be some action between the two stallions, but the one leading the band simply turned his rump to the other. Each of their ears cocked and laid flat against their heads, then cocked forward, then back again, but nothing more. When the colt laid down, he seemed to be telling us that this waiting game could go on forever. We decided to move along. Soon the road became impassable, so we turned around. When we drove by the band again, the two stallions were exactly where we left them.
Later we spied four bachelor stallions leaving a watering hole. We parked the truck to take a few photos. One of the stallions looked very old and was covered with scars.
Two new horses came trotting our way. When they were close to the watering hole, they fairly bolted to the water. We watched from a distance to give them their space. There is so little water out here, particularly with the drought. We didn’t want to disturb their drinking.
We found two other watering holes, both completely dry. The sun was bearing down, and the temperatures soaring once again into the 90s. Cold weather awaits us in Idaho. We made a unanimous decision to leave the smoke and heat and head for higher ground. Hopefully we will have one more wild horse herd to visit before we head for home. This last photo is our morning sunrise.
