On Thursday at noon, I ditch the San Francisco courthouse where I work as a Spanish interpreter and high-tail it home to swap my conservative suit for breeches and dusty paddock boots. I arm myself with allergy pills, nasal spray and a puff from an asthma inhaler. Patches on my windbreaker and baseball cap identify me as a National Park Service volunteer.
I take the Golden Gate Bridge out of the city. Just across the bridge await the Marin Headlands, a swooping series of promontories and wind-swept hills fronting the Pacific. Only a few minutes from the booming city, this wild space is home to bobcats, coyotes, red-tailed hawks, herons, rabbits, snakes and the occasional mountain lion. A mile down a fire road stands the corrugated-metal barn that houses the four horses of the Mounted Patrol.
Alia – just read your NYT piece. I live in Santa Rosa, and my horse is named Tango. This is my new music video about returning to horses, and enjoying the present moment. You will understand. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLetlH6w_nU
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