Pistol Packin’ Joe Friesen

This is a horse.

It was sometime around November 2015, when a fresh young whipper snapper named Jolie Blue, sitting upon his steel horse named Georgia, his woman of choice along for the ride, first rode into the Mennonite region of the Cayo district of Belize. Spanish Lookout. Their mission; to find a real horse, or perhaps two, and someone to let them ride free. Riding to the outskirts of the structured farmland of the residing Mennonites of 58 years, the posse pulled over. Cigarette’s and Rum. Reassessment.

Amidst the refresher, a light pickup truck drove in their direction, dust blowing behind the tires. The strangers coasted to a stop. “You look lost” the man of maybe 60 year’s initiated. Blue eyes, and what once was Blonde Hair, Jolie saw a reflection of his great uncle’s, back in Saskatchewan, in this man.

“We’re looking to see a man about a horse” Jolie said, smoking a cigarette, completely oblivious, and with an empty bladder. The elderly man knew what he meant.

“You’re going to want to go see Cowboy Joe Friesen.” He told them, before he peeled out like you would expect any badass Mennonite Man to do. Jolie Blue had his lead. He flicked his cigarette, pulled his sunglasses down from the top of his head, slid onto Georgia the Motorbike, motioned for his Woman of choice to do the same, and peeled out, like you would expect any badass Mennonite Man to do. They were on their way to find the horse-owning-man east of Spanish Lookout, Joe Friesen.

Blue and the posse rolled in slowly to the Ranch. The sign said “Beware of Dog, yes he bites”, but Jolie wasn’t afraid. “Hey Cowboy Joe!” he called to the house. A tall, well structured figure appeared in the doorway. “Who Calls?” the silhouetted figure questioned from behind the screen door.

“They call me Jolie Blue, and it’s to my understanding you might be able to escort this young lady and myself on a pony ride.”

The figure submerged from the darkness. His boots and jeans, damp with at least a few days of hard work. His cowboy hat, tall and proud with curve’s in the brim that beamed “El jefé”. [The Boss, for those of you too lazy to google translate it] A six shooter, fully loaded, sat on his hip. He looked up from the ground to the the self invited Gringo’s before him.

“Sure!” he said. And they saddled up three horses and went for a fantastic ride throughout his Ranch. Returning after sunset, cowboy Joe’s wife had supper prepared and invited the two vagabonds in for a meal. The following Sunday, Blue returned to Spanish Lookout and joined in on the church service, to see Pistol Packin’ Joe Friesen one last time before his Belizean adventure continued.

Flash forward to present time we find our hero, Jolie Blue, on the run through Belize, frantically looking for his next companion of the road. Georgia the Bike was unforgettable, but now he needed something with a few more wheels in an attempt to make it back home before the 1st birthday of his only nephew. The entire world depended on him, and he knew just where to go. To the man who has horses… The man who once told Blue he could find him a horse and saddle for $250US. The cowboy boot slaying, cigarette-when-his-wife-isn’t-around-smokin’, Pistol Packin’ Joe Friesen.

Jolie Blue walked the long driveway alone. No Georgia, no Woman of choice. He was in search of only one thing. “Cowboy Joe!” He called. The dog who bites started to bark. That same tall figure appeared in the doorway. “Who Calls?”

The two exchanged old time memories for a moment before Blue proposed his next big plan. “I need a truck Joe”. The Caucasian-Belizean-Cowboy looked up from the ground to the the self invited Gringp before him. “…alright, get in my truck”

The two ventured off into unknown-to-Blue Mennonite territory. To the folks who had trucks. Jolie Blue noticed the loaded pistol, still sitting upon Pistol Packin’s hip. The dirty jeans. The proud cowboy hat. Joe Friesen had not skipped a beat. It was so fucking cool that Jolie wanted to take a picture for his blog, cruising around with this bad ass mennonite cowboy, but knew asking for a picture would only diminish his Cool-level, and therefore has no pictures to share.

We pulled into lot #1, there was a late 80’s/early 90’s Toyota there… but for more than the price Jolie could get back in Canada. The next lot had a Ford Ranger within the budget, but did not have reverse. Everything else beyond that was somewhat undesirable.

Cowboy Joe and Jolie Blue drove on down the country side on their way back to the Ranch, defeated, but by no means upset. They rolled into the driveway. Jolie Blue spoke up… “Well thanks for an awesome day Jim!”

Cowboy Joe paused for a moment; “…It’s Joe”

SHIT! I knew that! Spent the rest of the day dwelling on it. Don’t you hate when that happens?

I guess,  long story short is I didn’t find a vehicle in Belize like I’d hoped to.. Next couple options are Auto Auctions in Guatemala, or Mexico City. Worst Case scenario, Houston. Where all the Belizean trucks are bought and shipped anyways. People are right, I am going about this backwards. From a financial point of view.

I unno stay tuned. hitchhiking towards Lake Atitlan tomorrow to find Sharon and Dylan…