As a soon to be 6th or 7th grader (in 1964 or 1965), I recall taking the train out of the Cincinnati Terminal and then connecting to a bubble car overnight train to Denver. I was to have my own horse for six weeks, at this girls’ summer riding camp.
I was an english tack rider, and this was obviously to be western tack which had me a little nervous. My memories of the camp are fuzzy, but I remember my horse well. She was Miss Jones, a small pony Arabian cross with a gait as smooth as can be. She was gentle, knew voice commands, and was a lovely mount. I do recall all of us going out to our horses directly after breakfast.
I had recently had a big family move from just north of New York City to Cincinnati. It was a strange time in my life. I think I was still gobsmacked that summer. Miss Jones was my elixir. I will be ever grateful to this gentle lady that I rode through the beautiful Colorado country.
- Karen Conrad Sawyer (Pittsburgh, PA)