The Slower You Go, The Faster You Get There

This yard needed a bit of cleaning up, but once my host Alyssa, myself and our friend Cricket put some muscle into moving curious objects and piles of sticks, the horses had a nice high-line spot for the evening.

First of all, some exciting news! Somehow the music video we made for Woke Up Looking (Robot) ended up on Rolling Stone's top 25 music videos of 2019 alongside some insane company of various pop stars. I never thought I'd be on a list alongside Cardi B's twerking contest, James Blake and Robyn, but somehow that happened. So happy that my brilliant co-directors Ewen Wright and Raky Sastri get more recognition for their awesome work on this. Was also thrilled Rolling Stone called out our Behind The Scenes, which in some ways is my favorite part.

The slower you go the faster you get there. I try to let this sage advice guide me on the days our progress feels glacial at best. Sometimes the learning curve is so slow it feels more like a subtly bent line than a curve. We are doing our best to get back on trails and off the sides of roads even if they are small roads or dirt roads. How we long for the trails when we are road traveling! We get a bit more time on the Continental Divide Trail before making our way to the Arizona Trail, the land of Rattlesnakes and Cactuses. Some cactus in the US are 200 years old I just learned. I'm reaching out to locals for the best route information. You ask someone if they have the info you're looking for. They don't. You ask if they know someone who might know someone who might know someone who has that information and 3 days, 9 phone calls, 4 emails and 2 texts later you're talking to the right person. On the good days you find that right person in 20 minutes and it feels like the universe is designed for you.

My host Catherine's dog kept flirting with me, licking his lips and winking at me constantly. I politely declined despite his persistence.

The biggest challenge is finding water for the horses. They need to drink daily and we are now in the desert in the winter. It ain't the wet season and it's a curious quandary day to day. When we are traveling along small roads we'll stop at folks homes and ask if they could give the horses some water. If we are on the trail with no reliable water sources for several days travel we have to arrange water drops with locals. Some folks offer to do it for free to help support the journey while I pay others. We are so grateful for any arrangements. I can send folks GPS pin points where they can drop water and then collect the receptacles afterwards. A hugely helpful tool for this has been an app called OnX, most popular with hunters, and they were kind enough to sponsor the trip with a free subscription. My first water drop was delivered by Steve, an ex firetruck designer and builder who makes custom wooden sea kayaks, sells motorcycle side cars and delivers luxury Cadalacs to different car dealers around the west. Steve had just constructed a corral at his home for future horse visitors and we were lucky enough to christen the space!

The horses’ first burrito drive through, and mine!

My host desperately wanted to bring the horses into her home for a photo opp. It would indeed have made a great photo, but it would have also made me a terrible horse owner as there were all manner of hazards. We compromised and let Gus just investigate the front room with his face. Dog named Fatty in the foreground.

I'm not the only one exhausted after a show. Here is the kitty Jeffrey Dahmer with his dog brother Fatty.

Silver city homeshow home.

Another hosts backyard. Dustin and Kyle's place in the background. Sweet tiny place. They were expecting 5-7 people and we ended up having 22 crammed in like sardines, my favorite. Kyle a printing press maven and Dustin a musician we got along swimmingly and even saw Star Wars at the one-screen theater in town.

Host Dustin with his signature couture outfit "Two Dog Belly". Got to talk shop with Kyle as he's been a touring musician for years and has also played countless home shows. Nice to chat with someone who knows the particularities of this specific approach.

Every now and then I'll agree to play my home show in a homey non home. My host Twana owned this thrift store and we did the show in the back surrounded by 20,000 books!

Picked a bunch of Loco Weed out the ground with my host. Horses can get addicted to it and it contains swainsonine, a phytotoxin. Swainsonine, an indolizidine alkaloid, is the toxic principle responsible for the pathological changes in body tissues that lead to the disease known as locoism.

Cocaine problem.

With my host and farrier extraordinaire Glenn in Arenas Valley. It is common to find Glen's neighbors horses just wondering freely around the neighborhood. New Mexico is a fence out state which means its your responsibility to keep others animals off your property. His other neighbor has a heard of 30 horses that travel in a most spirited cluster.

When passing through the small town of Manzano (pop 54) on our way towards the Manzano Mountains. Troub and Gus have become very accustomed to all manner of canines barking snarling growling and chomping at the bit to bust through their fenced in areas. Occasionally a dog or two is not fenced in and they'll come running after us barking and foaming at the mouth until they reach the horses heals and become humbled by the size of my callipygian fur friends. Perhaps from a distance they a worthy foe but up close a treacherous behemoth! Some dogs get excited enough to jump over a fence or dig under a fence, but most of the time its just a lot of very aggressive barking as we pass. In Manzano a beautiful Grand Akita calmly walked off the porch of a house and quietly pranced his way towards us. Where most dogs will grumphle at the horses heals until they feel they've made their point, this exquisite creature kept playfully jumping up on the front of the horses gingerly pawing their chests inviting them to play with him. He clearly thought he was a horse or they were giant dogs. Eventually I began to worry he wasn't going back home. I started throwing sticks and rocks at him to make our company less inviting but he took any action from me and the horses as an invitation to join us.

Mystery dog from Manzano.

3 days and 35 miles later this dog was still by our side. Up and over mountains, through three cold nights he just moseyed along beside. After the first day he wouldn't leave Troubadour's feet, despite getting stepped on a couple times. He would lay by his feet. Troubadour would give him a sniff, move away and the dog would follow and once again lay down by his feet. On the second day I could see he was hungry and thirsty. I prepared him some beef stroganoff, scrambled eggs and bacon (all freeze dried of course) a couple cliff bars and made sure he had water. One night he climbed into my tent while I was tending the horses and wouldn't let me get into my own tent. I politely explained that while I was falling in love with him if he didn't let me and my frozen butt cheeks into the tent I would murder him slowly. He acquiesced and we shared the warmth of the shelter for a bit until he remembered he preferred to be by Troubadours side. On the morning of the 4th day he was gone. Gone gone gone! I hope the Rattlers didn't get him. I hope he found his way back home or to some other horse travelers with plenty of beef stroganoff to share. He was the first dog not to bark at us and I miss him.

He entered my tent and would not let me inside! I appeased him with Clif bars.

Days are fairly mild but the cold nights and mornings are something to contend with.

Jenny working with Troubadour, months ago in Colorado, to enter a trailer that was new to him and a bit smaller than what he was used to.

Before I really began the trip I watched Jen work with troubadour in Colorado calmly and patiently for a long time, playing games that put his mind in the right place so that getting in the trailer was ultimately the easiest thing for him to do. It was hot. We were hungry and it was the best lesson to understand that sometimes it takes as long as it takes. Troubadour was being... challenging. Jenny had the vocabulary to unglue his stubbornness. It took hours, but after that conversation he was good with smaller trailers. I'd tried the previous week. I spent about 45 minutes before giving up with embarrassing rope burns on my hands and fingers. She said you just always need one more arrow in your quiver and one more minute of patience. If you give up after all that work, you teach him that if he resists a task long enough he'll get his way. When he finally got in the trailer all the pressure was released and life was easy again. He carried that lesson with him and I carried a new commitment to deeper patience after watching Jenny work. It was awesome, impressive powerful stuff to observe and really helped me with Troubadours next challenging moment, a small bridge!

Troubadours first small exposed bridge with me. Only took us 4 hours to get him across. His pack looks unbalanced here, but its just the way his hind legs are placed in this shot.

We came to this bridge the previous night in the fading light. I tried every trick of gentle coaxing and encouragement I knew, but Troubadour would not cross. We didn't quite have the space to play the games I'd observed with Jenny. Best I could manage was one hoof on the edge of the bridge, his eyes wide with his unshakable urge to survive and he thought the bridge might kill him. I tried for 2 hours with him, into the dark. I was determined not to teach him the lesson that if he just resits for two hours he gets his way and I give up. That would be the poor lesson to confirm, but it was dark and I gave up. He won. I'd have to unteach him that lesson in the morning. We hiked back a mile up the mountain and camped. At sunrise we were back at it. On Jenny's recommendation I got Gus across first which served as a tiny bit of encouragement. Troubador made it across one step at a time. Pressure and release with each step. Sometimes I was literally physically picking up one hoof at a time and placing it a few inches forward. Took another two hours to get to the other side of a 30 ft bridge. I gave him some love, let him know I was very proud and then we turned around and went back over the bridge. This is what you're supposed to do. When they do something that's hard for them you do it again and again to help normalize it and wash away the fear. Going back across took 20 minutes. The fear was melting away and we walked smoothly and without incident back and forth 3 or 4 more times. Incredible to see them learn that quickly, even if the quickly took forever.

My latest Farrier, the bottom left of the above four pictures, had an interesting practice of applying epoxy to the lower part of the hoof to seal in the nail holes and provide extra protection. Each Farrier's got their own quirks and customs. The four shots above are my last four farriers setups. I love the tools of this trade. It is a mad science of infinite gazbows. I have so much respect for good farriers and so far I've been fortunate to only have really good ones. Your horses hoof health is most essential. It can be nerve wracking meeting new farriers along the way as a bad farrier can mess your horse up! Plenty of "Professional Farriers" can cripple your horse. I've heard all too many horror stories: someone is drunk, someone shoes every horse the same way and can't make adjustments for that horses needs, puts on the wrong kind of shoe, diagnoses a minor issue the wrong way and makes it worse etc etc. I've been fortunate so far and feel if I keep asking lots of questions from the start I'll be able to surmise whether I've got a wizard who takes his craft seriously or a dipstick who might hurt my boys.

Soaking rays of vitamin D to positivize my juju after tending to a new injury troubadour sustained getting tangled in a loose wire I failed to remedy. He's doing good now.

Pies in Pie Town at the Pie-O-Neer Cafe, where the Pie Lady of Pie Town resides, signs her emails "In pie we crust" and often bids you adieu with "Okey dokey pokey pie!" I consumed 17 pieces of pie while in Pie Town.

This world is not made for horse travel. The endless ribbons of concrete woven across the country that send shock waves into the horses joints and ware their feet down and the trillions of miles of fencing that accompany every man made boundary are not the most welcoming elements. I've had quite an education in regards to fencing the first couple months. I never noticed how much of our world was fenced in and out from itself. All the steel posts and barbed wire blend into the landscape when you're not interacting with it. I've been interacting with it and I've learned muchly bout the dos and don'ts of fence what and whys. I've seen how much labor it is to put up fence and maintain it. It's a huge part of ranching life and constant upkeep against the blows of nature and brazen animal skabumery. From what I'd read about long riding you do your best to find the trails and the access, but if you stay out there long enough sooner or later you're gonna have to cut some fence to take care of your horses and get to where you need to be. I landed in a couple of those situations sooner than I'd hoped for.

A cowboy wreath!

Before traveling from Los Alamos to Santa Fe I reviewed satellite maps with two of my hosts, one who'd had significant packing experience. We found a good route that would necessitate traveling along the highway for a stretch, but eventually land me a nice trail going along the river. We noticed that trail seemed to be near Native lands but didn't look to be inside the Pueblo. On my way to the trail head I met a bunch of Native guys at a gas station who were from that Pueblo and they also recommended and confirmed that was the right way to be heading and the only path to get me south. A couple hours later, after some harrowing highway travel, walking along the grassy shoulder dodging step by step the endless collection of alcohol bottles and bumfodder, we got to a foot bridge that crossed the river to our sought after trail. It did not, at the time, appear to be a bridge sturdy enough for 2,400 pounds of horse. Seemed a human bridge. We crossed the adjacent car bridge to get to the other side thinking we could access the path from across the water. On the other side we could not find any access to the path, but plenty of barbed wire with "Tribal Land: Do Not Trespass" postings. The sun was going down. I could see our path 20 ft away! Either the map or my understanding of it had been wrong. I had a choice: I could stay exposed on a busy highway with only a small shoulder in the dark, headlights zooming by, or I could cut through the fence and get the horses to safety. I chose to cut. We hid out in a low dip in the road and hoped no one would see us. It sucked. I got the horses through and did the best I could at fixing the fence behind us. We made camp and started in on the trail the next morning. I'm still not sure I made the right call. I had information that I thought was bulletproof. It wasn't and I decided to get to safety for the night over respecting a boundary that I feel should be held in the highest regard. A white guy on a horse cutting into Native restricted lands is no bueno for a whole basket of reasons, but I felt my responsibility was first to my horses in that moment. I took a breath, tried to mark all the lessons not to be lost from that situation and moved forward.

A week later, I was trying to get from one host in Santa Fe to another 20 miles away. Where I thought there was a path there was, yet again, a fence! The day took longer than anticipated and we were losing light. My hosts were waiting for our arrival and I didn't feel I had a safe place to camp and find another route in the morning. I cut through and tied it up best I could behind me. This area was a massive swath of land, thousands of acres run by a real estate conglomerate so I didn't have the same kind of moral quandary as with the tribal lands, but it was still not ideal. Someone at some point is gonna have to take time and fix what I broke.

About a week later, at another host's home several miles away, this grizzled rancher, with a mustache the size of my torso, came through the front door. "Gideon Irving here?" he inquired. I knew I was in the shit immediately. I'd heard about this guy Steve who manages that huge piece of land. Had a reputation for not being the most giggly type of fella. As I approached him my heart was racing with the questions: deny deny deny? Or apologize? When I got close to him I could tell there was no lying to this man, he would eat me alive. His mustache had magical powers. It was like a truth sieve or a shame wand. As I shook his hand he said "Me and you are gonna have a talk." I came clean immediately, apologized for putting him out and explained I was in a jam and just trying to look out for my horses. I told him that while I learned a bunch before leaving I had a lot left to learn and that it's been a slow long lesson out in the field. I explained one of the things I'd yet to really learn well is how to repair fence expertly if I'm in the unfortunate situation of needing to cut through. He responded surprisingly well to my honesty. I threw in a couple jokes about me being a dumb cityot New Yorker lost in the new expanse of rural ways, my most valuable tool for connecting to conservative masculine manly men types. Making fun of myself before they can goes a long way. He said "Well, I was fairly frustrated when I saw you'd cut through. I was fixing to throw you in jail, but I understand it's a lot to learn. Let's go fix some fence."

Fixin fence with Steve.

It was 20 degrees outside. We gathered some tools from his home and went to fix fence for three hours. He ended up teaching me the correct way to repair fence if you need to. The guy who was gonna throw me in jail for cutting his fence taught me how to cut other fences better! What a world. I was most grateful for his understanding and kindness. 

I had some spirited conversation with a dear friend of mine who was upset and confused when he heard I'd cut fence on tribal land and other fenced land. I agreed with him that those boundaries of Native lands really need to be respected considering all that's been taken from Indigenous people in the US and the world over. I agreed that to break through that kind of line could be received as part of a larger disregard for oppressed people's sacred belongings, culture and rights. With the rancher, the concern was that I'm fucking with someone's livelihood for my trip, my journey, my mission. I thought his concerns were valid and neither of these instances were things I took lightly. When I found myself in a tight spot, I chose to preference the horses' well-being over other considerations in the moment. If I find myself in another similar situation, I'd likely do the same. My responsibility is first to their safety. What I take away from moments like these is information. Another collection of precious details that will hopefully help me avoid such situations in the future. 

The larger question these predicaments brought up in my buddy was "At what cost? This tour at what cost? Where do you draw the line? How many people need to be inconvenienced or deeply hurt for you to have this experience?" These are good questions. I answered by saying that I feel, so far, the connections I've made with people, the shows I've shared, all the passing conversations with folks fascinated by our travels and the ways people have lent their support to enable us to continue, and thus have become a part of the journey themselves, has felt like its created more positivity than the negative juju I may have generated by making some honest mistakes in the process. But I want to keep asking those questions. We can become so attached to the ideas of things. The idea of ourselves, of our trip, our vision that we can lose track of what it's actually become. I'm grateful to still feel good about traveling and performing with Gus and Troub as we learn along the way, but I want to stay aware of the fragility that surrounds my intentions. I'm grateful for smart friends who ask good questions. I realize I am dipping my toe into larger massively important issues and conversations here. This is a limited piece of a larger conversation about privilege and risk and entitlement that hopefully I'll be able to speak to more throughout the year. I don't want to avoid mentioning the more challenging parts of this tour for fear of not saying it perfectly. I get lots wrong, all the time, and I'm open to hearing from any of you what I might be missing on any important issues in the mix. 

Hope to see you soon. 

Goodness, 
Gideon