There’s nothing like starting an epic road trip across America with a fixed schedule that incorporates strict half-hour stops and 12-hour driving days to guarantee that the first day will be far longer than anticipated.
We started at 5 a.m., stuffing a mattress into the U-Haul truck that contained Maxine and Paul Emerich-Jaquish’s worldly goods, a process that reminded me of working on a Wyoming ranch and stuffing horses into the gigantic truck that was to take them to their winter pastures. Mattresses don’t refuse to load, but they don’t help either.
I am accompanying my friends Maxine and Paul from their home just east of San Francisco in the Bay Area to their new life in South Carolina, where the grass is green and they can fulfil their long-held dream of owning a house with land and stables. Maxine is a jumper and trainer who runs VI Equestrian International and owns the 6-year-old 18-hand Holsteiner Lamecher T, known as Eigen.
Maxine is an engineer by profession and Eigen’s stable name comes from Eigen Vector or Value, a German engineering term meaning ‘commonly correct.’ Out of Dulcimer by Lotus T, he is a ¼-Thoroughbred and, although endearingly goofy and still very young, has tremendous potential. Showjumping stardom beckons.
His travelling companion is another friend’s horse, eventer Echo, and they almost immediately became great friends, somewhat of a relief as they were going to be trapped in close proximity for several days. Also in the trailer are Paul’s bikes, including the BMX that he will ride in Olympic trials in the summer. Rumbling behind his U-Haul truck is a flatbed trailer bearing his race car and, curled up in a travelling bag behind my seat, are their two cats, Taz and Izzy. A travelling circus has nothing on us!
Once the door had been dragged down over the mattress, Maxine and I set off to pick up the horses. Echo loaded with no trouble and we drove on to Oakdale and the Premier Equine Center for Eigen. Safely loaded, we set off at last on the first leg of the 2,597-mile trip, sights set on the first stop in Flagstaff, Ariz.
Ready to depart.
California is vast. Living in a small bit of it and occasionally taking trips to Napa or Yosemite, one doesn’t realize just how far it stretches. It began to feel as if we were trapped in a time loop and that we would never reach the promised land of Arizona.
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Turning east from Bakersfield (where a billboard offered the fun fact that the Mona Lisa has no eyebrows, just the sort of thing you want to know on a road trip), we started the climb into the Sierra Nevadas, whereupon Paul reported smoke billowing from his engine.
As we have horses on our trailer, we can’t stop and wait if something goes wrong with his U-Haul—it will be a case of each driver for himself. He struggled up the hill at 25 mph, not an impressive speed considering his truck was supposed to be recently serviced and wholly capable of hauling the load it was carrying. It slowed the whole operation down considerably, so we’re not very happy with U-Haul.
Fortunately, the truck didn’t actually die, so we pressed on through the foothills, climbing 3,000 feet in winding loops that opened up views of secret wooded valleys and rocky slopes, where trains wound along improbable railtracks, periodically disappearing into tunnels, very different to the vast flat agricultural plain we had left behind.
The view in California had been hazy at the edges with dust and heat from the drought gripping the state and farm vehicles left billowing clouds of dust amid the almond trees. There was the odd irrigated patch, including one ranch that looked as if it had been transplanted from Kentucky with its white-painted fences, except that the grazing animals were, incongruously, Black Angus cattle rather than gleaming Thoroughbreds. At the foot of the mountains, fields of orange trees shone rich green, in stark contrast to the brown desert and hazy grey mountains butting up against them. It felt as if nature had got a bit confused.
With more than 12 hours of driving to do, I was concerned about keeping Maxine awake, but she stated that she would never risk the horses… I know where I stand! We weren’t short of entertainment though, with making up stories about our fellow drivers (a chap in a white VW was off to find his childhood sweetheart, a truck driver was a secret lyric poet), playing I-spy (tricking each other with unfamiliar terms, a Silverado truck from American Maxine and the English ‘lorry’ from me), calling our parents in the Caribbean and England (isn’t modern technology marvelous?), and singing along to cheesy music, at which point we were embarrassed to find that we still know all the words to the Spice Girls’ If you wanna be my lover. I know there are only about four lines, but still, embarrassing.
Road signs offered endless amusement, with our particular favorites being the gantry sign ‘Drive hammered, get nailed’ and, in the middle of the desert, ‘subject to flooding.’ The cats provided a soundtrack for the first bit, meowing disgruntedly from their carry case, but we let them out after a bit and they made a thorough exploration of the truck, including Maxine’s footwell. Fortunately, the view from the windows proved more interesting than the brake pedal.
Across the desert.
Leaving the mountains, we entered the desert and the world opened up. I love the desert, the vast cloudscapes and distant horizons with long straight roads begging you to explore. Cacti speared the skies and off to the south old airplanes clustered in a United graveyard. A white structure like a memorial stood up from the dull earth like a Buddhist stupa on the Mongolian steppe.
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Atop mountains, strange buildings broke the skyline: giant telescopes, according to Maxine. All around here are underground research laboratories and testing sites, whose staff live in trailer-park oases on the surface. It’s a strange place, but strangely beautiful too.
As night closed in we began the climb to Flagstaff at 7,000 feet. The last hour seemed to take 1,000 years, as if we were back in the vortex that had seemingly kept us in California for years. But at last, 16 1/2 hours after we had left the Bay Area, we pulled into MCS Stables, where the horses would spend the night.
Approaching Alberquerque’s mountains
It’s an efficient place, capable of sheltering 70 horses, and used to people turning up at all hours. They called us several times to check our progress and welcomed us with a smile despite the lateness. When traveling with horses, it’s not just a question of finding a motel off the freeway, but booking equine hotels.
Maxine had searched through www.horsetrip.com and www.horsemotel.com and, if our first night was anything to go by, Eigen and Echo are going to be very comfortable. They looked extremely well when we took them off the trailer, testament to the comfort of the Sundowner Charter SE trailer and the copious amounts of hay they had chowed down.
It’s important to stop every few hours to let them stand still and rest—they don’t have to come off the trailer, indeed, that would be too disruptive, but they need a break from bracing themselves to the movement. We offered them water at stops, but they never took much, content to tuck into carrots and look out at the window. Fortunately, they’re both used to travel and seemed thoroughly unfazed by the whole thing.
Unloading is a bit of an operation due to having to lug out Paul’s BMX, the hay bag and assorted feed buckets, but they both settled down quickly to their grain and space to roll.
We drove on to stay friends of mine from the Grand Canyon Hounds, with whom I hunted last year and saw the big ditch for the first time from horseback. Sherry and Brett Dooley had wine and pulled pork all ready for us, so we feasted well before collapsing at near midnight. A very long but ultimately successful first day! Next stop: Texas. Stay tuned for more blogs and photos from the rest of our trip!
