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Thank You Henry Coe State Park

May 25, 2010

Pacheco Falls

We rode out to Pacheco Falls, the place my next novel is named after, while we were at Henry Coe these last 5 days.  The 13 miles out was well worth it.  I let the place infiltrate through my being, the oceans of grasses dancing in the cold north wind that blew our way in California this past week, the emerald green water rinsing off the trail dust from my naked skin, the dark clouds mixed with puffs of white scattering shadows across the hills as far as the eye could see.  I want that feeling to come out in my book and I know it will.  We rode 26 miles that day, despite a strange accident, pulling into camp at 8:30 pm, just in time to haul water up from the pond for the horses and heat up something to eat before we retreated to the warmth of our respective sleeping bundles.  

The next day, after riding down to China Hole, an amazing swimming spot complete with soft pebbled beach, lush bank grass for the horses, and a promise of some sun, my friend hiked off for some exploration while I once again took the opportunity to get into the creek.  The water was warm, especially compared to high Sierra standards, and I staying in long enough to perturb a bird who squawked so loud it disturbed the horses’ naps.  I emerged from the water, chilled by a cloud blocking the sun and lay down on the smooth warm pebbles.  I found myself pushing into a cobra pose and it was enough to get me on my feet to do some breathing and standing yoga. 

Each day offered itself as a gift to the seven of us, three women and four horses.  We three friends have fine tuned our camaraderie to an elastic ever-changing dynamic, in which our individual moments of happiness, tension, nerves and sheer joy all fold together in something that nourishes each of us. 

  I am so very thankful.

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