I spent Sunday on top of the mountain, riding for about 4 hours. Up on top where I can scream . . . and cry . . . and howl . . . and it just dissipates into the vast expanse. There is SO much room up there. It is quiet enough for my thoughts to be heard loud and clear. Indio keeps me focused, so I can't just drift off. I came back with a bit more calm . . . I'm not sure why . . . We rambled most of the mountain and managed to avoid the bull. It was a gorgeous day ! We could see the entire Monterey Bay Area, the San Juan Valley, Hollister, Gilroy. The weather was perfect! When we weren't riding through poison oak bushes, I took my shirt off and was very comfortable. Now, I have this bit of a sunburn to remind me of that ride. When we finally came down, encouraged by the rifle shots on the other side of the canyon, Indio put forth his argument that, no, he was not quite ready to be enrolled in a mounted shooting event. I had not actually broached the subject with him, but as we came through the gate and were on the hillside running parallel to the gravel road, he decided that he was going somewhere in a hurry. I figured I would do my best to go there with him, while proposing an alternative. Now, this hillside is pretty steep and I was concerned that, wherever it was that we were headed, might not find us upright, or together. We weren't headed downhill, or uphill, we were headed across the hill . . . and running out of hill as we went . . . as, it was getting steeper! I certainly understood that the result was out of my hands. I was awaiting whatever was being chosen for me. Somehow, we got stopped! I'm not sure how that happened. I assure you, I was trying my best to be persuasive. I took him back the way I had intended us to go and took him into the arena and made him work a while longer, so that he wouldn't get to thinking that coming back to the ranch was all milk and honey.Then, I rushed home to wash off the poison oak and savor my memory of the mountain and collect some of that calm.