Picture, if you will, a nice winter snowmobile ride. Assuming your sleds are in good working order, you're out blasting around with your friends, just having a good time and not a care in the world because you're all toasty in your gear.
It's gorgeous, crisp, and sunny, and the air has that remarkable hushed quality that only comes from serious amounts of snow blanketing your surroundings and quieting just about everything down. Maybe even your busy, busy mind; praise be.
Now, imagine that in your journey, you wend your way up into the mountains. Maybe you've been here before, and maybe you haven't, but even though it's cold, it's a gorgeous day, and you're going to make the most of it. And then suddenly, you spot a horse. In the mountains. At the end of January.
