I realize today how fortunate I am to have those childhood memories. Years later, most of the details are fuzzy, but two distinct memories remain: riding horseback along a bubbling, sun-dappled creekside and perching at the edge of the stables on a warm afternoon, watching the ranch hands go about their business. The pinnacle of my pre-adolescent travel career was a weeklong visit to a rustic dude ranch in Wyoming’s high country.
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