by Deborah Messner

Created on: July 15, 2008   Last Updated: November 24, 2008

My memories of Death Valley can be summed up with one particular location there, and one particular activity that I will never forget as long as I live. I was on a road trip with my parents in 1998 when we decided to make the trip to Death Valley, CA from Las Vegas, NV. It was one of those trips you don't really plan, and where you end up driving a rented red Chevy Blazer thousands of miles from adventure to adventure, stopping every place you see just to experience life, nature, and the thrill of being on the road. Death Valley just seemed to fit the bill.

We arrived at Furnace Creek Ranch around 5PM, and realized we were just in time for the champagne carriage ride, pulled by two beautiful Belgian horses. I was disappointed that we had missed the last scheduled horse trail ride, but was definitely up for any type of outdoor adventure at that point, after a long day cramped in the car.

The tour was absolutely beautiful. It was February in Death Valley, and the temperature and atmosphere were perfect. That entire area is so pristine and natural, its raw beauty is hard to describe. We listened to Death Valley history and fun facts and sipped champagne, with the clip-clop of the horse's hooves in the background and the sun starting to set over the brilliant purple mountains. I was sitting right behind the driver, and she and I struck up a conversation. I told her I had shown horses all my life, and had never been to Death Valley before. She asked if I'd ever driven a team of Belgian horses. I said no, and she scooted over for me to crawl up into the seat beside her.

I was suddenly holding the reins of two obviously well trained, powerful Belgian horses. The harnesses alone grasped my attention as we meandered down the path. There were hundreds of buckles and intricate pieces of leather that all worked together to enable these beautiful creatures to give us such a great experience. To someone who has always been fascinated by horse equipment of all kinds, it was like heaven for me. The driver and I talked some more, and I told her of my disappointment in missing the final trail ride of the night. We had just pulled up in front of the stables with the carriage ride. With an adventuresome gleam in her eye, she turned to me and said "How fast can you saddle?" My immediate reply? "As fast as you need me to."

We leaped out of the carriage, handed the reins to (I believe) her husband, and bolted for the nearest corral. I chose a beautiful, tall sorrel mare with a blaze

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