Arroyo Seco Stables

There was a time when my older sister liked horses. She was a lot more normal about it than me, but she had a herd of Breyers and enjoyed going on the occasional trail ride. During this time, she attended a Girl Scout day camp at a local barn.

I was so jealous.

Every day for a week, she came home and told me about her day, who she had ridden and how fast they'd gone. I hung on every word.

When I was twelve, I attended the same camp. By that time, I'd had two years of riding lessons. I wasn't particularly good, but I knew how to post at the trot, canter on the right lead and jump small courses. By the standards of this very beginner-oriented camp, that made me almost a professional. 

Needless to say, I had the best week. Not only did I get to ride every day, I also won a blue ribbon and I finally got to meet El Dorado, Little Red, Cloud 9 and all the other horses my sister had told me about all those years before. It was amazing.

I went back the next year, this time with my best friend. My experience was pretty much exactly the same - including the blue ribbon - but better because Sarah was there.

And that is the sum total of my time at Arroyo Seco Stables: Three glorious summer weeks - one imagined, two real - that took place more than forty years ago.

Earlier this month, I was back in Southern California with a rental car and some time to fill. After visiting my mom, I decided to swing by Arroyo Seco Stables, just to get a look.

As I neared my destination, I drove over a bridge. I peeked over the guard rail, and there it was!

I drove around a curve, down a hill and into the parking lot. I got out of my car and stopped for a moment to take it all in.

There was a fence around the perimeter, but that didn't matter. 

Everything looked exactly as I remembered.

Same big, red horse on the roof,

same bridge over the arena,

even the same chickens!

Since I couldn't go in, I decided to hike around the perimeter.

I walked under the bridge...

and stood at the end of the ring, remembering what it was like to ride in there. 

Then I scrambled up the hill to the bridge itself and took pictures from above.

Every angle revealed new memories.

I sure did have a lot of feelings for a place I inhabited so briefly.

I lingered for a while, then walked back to car. I took last photo and headed home.

"That was fun," I said to myself. "Tomorrow, I'm going to San Pasqual."