Sabbath

Sabbaths are anything but an ecclesiastical notion. The human body is meant to rest. I am sure by now it is glaringly obvious that we take our trips at a breakneck pace. Utilizing the sum of our youthful energy, we often found ourselves on the trail from sunrise to sundown. Our last Dakota day was supposed to be one of those days. When we crawled into bed the previous night, however, we stared at each other through dizzying exhaustion, then at blistered feet. It was time to change plans. Like Tyler quipped, sometimes there’s no other option but to rest.

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Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/RG4VTzh9y2MiSi6r6

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June 2nd, 2024 - Dakotas Day 10

Maximizing our decision to take a sabbath, we slept in to the luxurious time of 8:30. A gentle rain pattered the metal roof of our little Airbnb. After breakfast, the scent of fresh spring, ocean breeze, or something equally commercial wafted from the home’s washing machine. This itself was a marvel. After eleven days of living out of an increasingly stinky suitcase, washing laundry was a gift straight from God’s hand. When the laundry later tumbled, still warm, from the dryer, we folded the stench-free garments together. From my phone speaker, our pastor’s voice preached a sermon via a live broadcast. Technology is wonderful, isn’t it?

Defying all of our trip norms, we tarried in the Airbnb until we were forced to check out. Having a bit of quiet, homey quality time was just the recharge we needed. Enjoying our clean clothes and a change of shoes, we leisurely drifted back into Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Instead of hiking, our mission was to track down the iconic herd of wild horses that live in the park. I had been hoping to see wild horses for the whole trip. We had seen horses a few days prior, but we had been unsure whether they were wild. It’s not like they were wearing signs that read “Nobody Owns Me!” 

Before we even crossed the park boundary, a massive herd of wild horses caught our eye. They covered the top of a vibrantly green hill, majestic against the grey-misted sky. Delighting in the blessing of seeing wild horses, we stationed ourselves on an orange dirt road to soak it in. The herd had chosen their position well. They were far enough from the road to avoid any interruptions from overeager tourists. Their position on the hill afforded them a vast view of the prairies beyond. Comfortable in their advantage, the horses were at ease. Their tails swished as they grazed the rich grass. Some of the horses slept, their rear hooves cocked and ears drooped. Others bickered, snapping their teeth at each other. Horses are very hierarchal, and the dynamics were clear to see in this herd. The friends stuck together. The enemies kept their distance. The mass of the herd swelled and shrunk as the horses navigated their complicated social dynamics.

We watched all of this from afar using our brand new spotting scope. This had been the virgin voyage for the scope, but we had yet to use it until now. What do you use a spotting scope for when the bison occupy human hiking trails? Many of the bison had actually been too close for comfort on this trip, rendering our fancy scope entirely useless. Horses, however, are much less bold than bison. I was delighted to finally have a use for the scope beyond spying on the geese in our neighbor’s pond. We quickly learned that spotting scopes are extremely prone to wind shake. Unless your tripod is very heavy (ours was not), any sort of breeze will shake the tripod legs and, subsequently, the tripod. Taking videos through the scope became difficult. Not for long! Tyler soon came up with an ingenious idea to rectify the issue. He popped open one of our big umbrellas and stood with his back to the scope, blocking the wind with both the umbrella and his body. Just like that, the wind shake problem was solved. 

I really believe I am the luckiest woman in the world. Tyler constantly shows his love through gestures like the umbrella. His selfless leadership is a daily lesson in what it means to love. Marriage only grows sweeter as we settle into sharing life with each other. I am blessed.

We continued to find wild horses for the rest of our day in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. My favorite horses were a pair standing sleepily on top of a grey clay hill. They faced into the wind, letting it ripple their manes like a movie scene. They were inseparable. Tyler and I approached them quietly, not wanting to disturb or distress them. They turned towards us quickly, but after a moment of assessment, they returned to watching over the valley. The four of us stood in quiet solidarity. I would like to think they were a couple too. Bonded by love and shared experience, the horses stood as a single entity against the wind. I think we understood each other. 

If we had a special moment with the horse pair, it was shattered by a group of excited women. They had spotted the horses from the road and, like us, wanted to get a closer look. Unlike us, they were extremely loud. The three of them squawked like hens as they approached the foot of the horses’ hill. Their accents were Southern, their voices piercing. 

“Well would you look at them! Aren’t they cuuuuute?”

”Do you suppose they’re wild?”

”Why won’t they look at us? Yoo-hoo! Horses!” 

The poor horses lost their relaxed demeanor in a heartbeat. Their ears snapped towards the commotion. Their muscles tensed. Tyler and I sighed. The southern hens had ruined it for everyone. Might as well go back to the car.

If I could get on a soapbox for a moment, I would like to state that many people have no common sense around wild animals. I mean, sure, we were both raised on farms, but I wouldn’t think that would give us unique insights into animal behavior. Animals are often very transparent with their body language and behavior. Most of the time, they will leave you alone if you leave them alone. And most of the time, they could seriously harm you if you don’t. This knowledge has impressed a healthy fear into the minds of Tyler and me. We don’t pet the fluffy cows. We don’t approach the grizzly bears. And we don’t yell at wild horses either. Maybe common sense just isn’t as common as we think!

The rest of our sabbath day was spent taking horse pictures, listening to an audiobook in the car, and covering a lot of road miles. It felt good to rest. Our supper was Culver’s takeout under a wispy sunset. Our suitcases lay in mild disarray in the back of Martin the Subaru. They needed some serious organization before we flew home the next day. In that moment, though, I didn’t care. I was eating ice cream under friendly skies and in great company. I smiled at Tyler. Sometimes, it is good just to rest.