I came to riding late in life—serious riding, that is. I was a rabid horse-lover as a child and yearned for my own pony; my mother nurtured my interest by driving me to and from riding lessons when I was a preteen. Having had fond memories of her time at a dude ranch in her youth and eager to expose us to the beauty of the West, Mom took my brothers and me to the Triangle X ranch in Cody, WY, in 1969.

Those two weeks at Triangle X, tucked in the South Fork of the Shoshone River, were life-changing. Not only did I fall in love with the Rocky Mountains and Western riding, but I befriended the wrangler, Ken Jones, whom I married decades later. Ken was practically born on a horse: he told me before our wedding in 2003 that he could never see himself without one. After decades of running rivers, I traded my paddle for a saddle and began to ride in earnest. Thus started my horse-centric life.

My first three years with Ken were spent at the Home Ranch, a trail rider’s paradise. Ken and his partners had built the ranch in the mid 1970s near Steamboat Springs, CO. Catering to high-end clientele, the ranch offered superb riding, fishing, and hiking in the summer and cross-country skiing in the winter. Its horses were solid, sure-footed, and well-trained. As wife of an owner, I could invite myself anytime along wrangler-led rides through intoxicatingly lovely meadows and mountains.

My riding life shifted seismically in 2005 when Ken wrapped up his 35 years in the guest ranch industry (I had left my work in metro Denver when we married) and we moved to Montana. I had to step up my game as a horsewoman by improving my riding (and trailering) skills so I could manage my horse—not as turnkey as the Home Ranch horses—competently. I also had to find others who shared my passion with whom to ride.

Enter the Happy Saddle Tramps. This loose-knit cadre of women has been instrumental in making Montana’s Bitterroot Valley feel like home for me. The group was started by an intrepid backcountry horsewoman some 50 years ago; new members are added when they pass muster with a few “boss mare” old timers. We don’t have dues or membership fees, just a roster of names and a private FaceBook page. We number in the 40s, about half of whom ride on a regular basis. The only code of conduct is basic trail etiquette. Compatibility is the key: if you or your horse can’t behave respectfully, you’re not welcome.

The Tramps have one hard and fast rule: no men can participate in rides or other Tramp events unless they wear a bra and wig. For the record, only one spouse has taken up this challenge, donning a bra and wig for a memorable ride.

Given that the Tramps’ average age is about 65, safety is paramount. Our Wednesday rides routinely include several women in their 80s who can still drive their rigs to remote trailheads, saddle their horses, and manage all the horse-care related chores at home. Impressive.

Tramps are of two minds when it comes to bringing dogs on rides: some consider dogs a danger on the trail, whereas others, like me, think it’s good exposure for horses to be accompanied by well-behaved dogs. A horse may be less likely to spook at a flushed quail or bounding deer if it’s accustomed to dogs racing through the brush. I prefer riding with the Dog Riders, the Tramps spin-off. I particularly appreciate that the Dog Riders often take on rockier, more difficult terrain, which increases the adventure quotient.

Riding the range—Montana’s high prairies, valley floors, and craggy canyons—with the Tramps has greatly enhanced my life and increased my confidence in the saddle. I’m grateful to have riding partners whose skills I emulate and whose company I enjoy.

What makes our camaraderie possible is our ability to navigate yet another range: the political one. That range can be as precipitous and perilous as any talus-strewn slope. Tramps ascribe to beliefs that run the gamut from far right to far left. What keeps us united is that political talk is off-limits whenever we convene.

Tolerance and self control are in short supply in this country right now. It’s harder than ever to restrain oneself, to pull back on the reins and refrain from unleashing vitriol on another. Tramps tread lightly in controversial terrain. We recognize like-minded individuals and gravitate towards them for private discussions, but as a group, we steer clear of third-rail issues.

The Western equestrian world, for the most part, is a politically conservative one. This reality has been tough for me, a Massachusetts liberal at heart. At times I long to return to the bubble of my former home, Boulder, CO, and surround myself with other progressives. Yet I also appreciate the value of sharing my time with those more right-leaning than I. Many of my longtime East and West Coast friends rarely interact with non-like-minded folks, whereas I do daily, both in Montana and during our winters as Arizona snowbirds.

I’m deeply concerned with what’s happening in our country and harbor strong feelings about it. But I’m committed to being part of what Ken calls the Get Along party. Motto: “If you can’t get along, then git along!” Truth is, if I made a habit of vocalizing my views along the trail, I’d end up riding alone much of the time, which, for me, isn’t an option.

Conversation about all-things-equine links the Tramps. Riding the range together, we talk endlessly about our horses, our tack, the trials and tribulations of haying and irrigating, tales of rides past, and how fortunate we are to live in Montana, but we leave politics at the trailhead. For those few hours astride our horses, we eschew the polarization that is tearing our country apart and relax into the cadence of our horses’ hooves on common ground.