Recently, my husband had an impromptu vacation thrust upon him. Business is slow right now where he works and so to save payroll and make the profit margin look better, his boss suggested he take a little time off; six days in all. So with little planning, we embarked upon a staycation. At least I think that's what it was. I am not really sure of the definition, but we never went so far that we could not comfortably get back home in the same day.
I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to do something that I had wanted to do for quite some timetake a horseback ride. Bernd, sweet and patient man that he is, said okay. So I made the arrangements with a local ranch for a two-hour ride. I figured that one hour would go by too fast and that two hours would fall just short of about killing us.
I made certain that we did all the other things that we wanted to do before going on the ride. I knew we would be sore afterward. I just didn't know how sore. It was a couple of days before I could walk normally again. I don't know if you ever really get used to sitting on a horse for several hours and it may go a long ways toward explaining why cowboys walk so funny. And sitting down and getting up for the next couple of daysI don't even want to talk about that. Silly thing is, I'm thinking about doing it again, but only for an hour. Bernd says that he would have rather walked and I can do any future horseback riding by myself. And his horse was no trouble at all, but his jeans were.
It started out innocently enough, as many things do. We arrived for our appointment right on time. There were three horses all saddled up waiting in a small corral. Two of the horses were pretty good sized and one was a little smaller. I was really hoping to get the smaller horse because I am short and not to terribly flexible in the hips. You'll never catch me doing the side splits. I just wasn't made that way.
When I was young, my sister and I would participate in The Summer Handoff. There was our family, the Aldriches, and two sets of cousins, the Wilsons and the Barringers. We would all stay in rotation at each others for a week during summer vacation and so for a while our parents would have more kids than usual, but then they would also have no kids for a couple of weeks. The Wilsons and Barringers kept horses. We were "city folk."
Most of my experience with horses had to do with brushing them, feeding them, cleaning tack and mucking out stalls. Not so much had to do with riding them, but that was the usual payoff for a hard days work. And truth be told, I enjoyed anything having to do with horses. The Summer Handoff went on for several years. Bernd had only ever been on a horse once before and so it was decided that I would get Maude, the smaller horse, because she needed someone who could manage her. Right. Bernd rode Vegas, a big tan fellow who was content to just follow our guide's horse.
Maude is a lovely little chestnut horse with a dark brown mane and soulful eyes. But then when have you ever seen a horse whose eyes weren't soulful. She came off the Navajo Reservation and has a quiet temperament. Her one main drawback is that she likes to munch. She would seemingly rather just stand quietly and eat than do anything else, including carrying me along behind Bernd on Vegas who were behind the guide. They told me not to let her eat and asked me if I had strong shoulder muscles. It's a good thing I work out with weights regularly. Even so, if a horse wants to keep her head down and munch away at the grass and weeds, there isn't much even the strongest man can do to pull her head up. So forewarned and with a length of rubber tubing with which to whack her on the rump if she got too intractable, we set out.
We left the little corral and headed out onto a dirt road for a ways. We came to a gate and entered the "wilds." First thing we came to was a small gulley. The guide's horse walked over it and so did Bernd's. Maude walked up to it and stopped dead. I kicked her in the sides. I shifted forward in the saddle with a "Gi' up!" I used the rubber tubing and she just wouldn't go. Just as the guide suggested I take her back along the gulley a ways to a shallower spot, I could feel her bunching up her muscles and WHAM, she jumped over the gulley. On the other side all I could say was, "Well!" a little breathlessly. Bernd was looking a bit shocked and our guide said, "You stayed on her good." I was thinking, "You betcha' I stayed on her. Falling off her wouldn't feel so great." What a way to begin a two-hour ride.
Then began the battle. Maude had two speeds and stop. She would slowly plod along while looking for the tastiest plants and when I would try to get her up, she would break into a trot. Bouncing along and trying to remember when you are supposed to go up and when you are supposed to come down do not mix. I think I may have gotten the hang of it about three quarters of the way through the ride. It's my opinion that the trotting is what makes your sitting parts so sore. A full out run would have been easier on the rump, but they don't want you to run the horses. That's understandable.
She would stop constantly and I would have to whack her with the rubber tube. It made more noise than anything else and she would get a move on. Unfortunately this usually brought on more trotting. Twice she turned her head all the way around and gave me the "eye." Horses are good at that; their eyes are so big. They frequently have their own ideas about who is in charge and she'd had my measure since early on. I'm a real softy. I told her not to look at me like that. Actually, I talked to her the whole time. Our guide probably thought I was nuts. But then again, to my chagrin, I may never have been close enough for him to hear me.
It was my job, being in the rear as I was, to keep up with Bernd and our guide and I didn't do so well at that. At one point, they had gotten a bit ahead of me and I didn't watch very well which path they took. When Maude and I got to the turn I let her have her head figuring she knew where she was going. But apparently all she had on her mind were tasty plants and we started downhill toward some barbed wire that was about a foot off the ground. I pulled her up short just about the time the guide said, "Not that way! Barbed wire." He said to turn her, but it was too tight. I had to back her uphill. Something inside of me, thankfully, remembered how to back a horse. I was starting to feel like I wasn't doing a good job at all of managing Maude. But then our guide said, "You did a good job of getting her out of there," and I felt a little better. I was just glad I hadn't hurt her.
When you don't ride much you tend to pay a lot of attention to the horse and ignore the scenery. What little I saw of it was nice. Bernd said he didn't see much of the scenery at all. He also said that all he remembered from the first and only other time he had ridden a horse was that they fart and poop a lot. Well they do and his horse seemed to do that more than our guide's or Maude. Since I was behind them both, I had a good view of this. I told him he and his horse were made for each other. That didn't go over too well. His sense of humor had fled as the pain started. As it turned out, he had been in quite a lot of pain after about three quarters of the way through the ride. The seam of his jeans had rubbed two raw spots on the inside of buttocks. When we got home and he took a shower, you should have heard him yelp as the hot water hit it. Poor guy! The two spots looked like you had slapped a couple pieces of raw beef on his butt. Now we know why people buy riding pants. It's not just for the padding; there is also the very important lack of seams.
As hard work as it was and as sore as I was the next day and the next and theI had a great time. This wasn't some "dude" ride where your horse can walk the route from memory and you never leave a nicely packed dirt trail. There were up hills and down hills. There was sand and gravel and big rocks. There were trees and shrubs to go around and by the time you were done, you felt as if you had really ridden a horse rather than just sat on one plodding along in a long line of horses. I am seriously considering doing it again. I don't know how I would feel about riding Maude again, though. My shoulder is still sore from having to pull her head up.
If you are ever in Arizona near Mayer, check out the Foothills Ranch. The folks are really nice and our guide, an 82 year old man who put us mid-50ers to shame, is a wealth of information and stories.
Dianne Lehmann is a jewelry designer who has been in business since January of 2000. Her interest in designing and manufacturing jewelry goes back beyond that to 1994. It took her many years of trying various creative outlets to finally figure out that making jewelry is where she could really shine. Dianne began with simply stringing beads onto cable and has progressed from there. She is now an accomplished lapidary (cuts and polishes stones) and silversmith. Dianne and her husband, Bernd, live in northern Arizona and both love to hike. Dianne can not help but pick up rocks (they are her first love) and some of these find their way into her jewelry. Dianne makes one-of-a-kind pieces that she hopes give people as much joy to view as she gets from the making of them. If you like, you may view her work at http://www.syzygyjewelry.com
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Hi Patricia. Thanks for reading and commenting. The folks at Foothills Ranch have told me that they wear Wrangle jeans because the seams are softer. Something to consider. I wore my loosest jeans and had no problem.
Hi Sue. Thanks for slogging your way through that whole thing. I had a good time, I'm not so sure about Bernd. I like that commercial, too.
The folks at Foothills Ranch told me that if I want to do it again despite the hard work and pain that it makes me a "horse person." I don't know if I'd go that far.
I like my new picture, too. I hate having my picture taken and on my birthday, Bernd wanted to take some pix of me. I was just trying to ignore the whole thing while he snapped away. And he actually got one that I liked.
Dianne, you have just confirmed why I do not like horses :-) Your pour hubby. Still, it sounds like you had a wonderful day together. Thanks for sharing the ride. I'm sore just thinking about it. And I am with Sue, I love your new picture! Your hair is too cute. Love and hugs, Teresa
Hi Teresa. Horses can be really quite nice, but you do have to keep your wits about you when you are around them. They are very smart and sly. Probably being exposed to them at a very young age helps me to feel more comfortable with them.
I keep my hair short because it is less bother. For the most part, it just does what it wants. I make it wet and put some gel in it, try to tame it down a bit and then just forget about it. Yeah! I'm lucky that I look okay in short hair.
YeeeHaaa, You ride 'em cowgirl. It sounds like you had a little adventure. Shucks Ma'am if I had been on that thar horse I think I woulda been spending a whole lot a time just lookin' at the rocks. It's good to hear that you had fun. I suppose the next time your husband gets just a little short with you I would imagine you could always tell him you would very much like him to go horse riding with you again to make things right. Yipeee I Aye... I can't help but think that the horses probably enjoyed it the most!
Hi Mark. I would dearly have loved to look at the rocks, but couldn't spare the attention. Maybe next time.
I don't think I will ever get Bernd on a horse again. And he never gets short with me, he's 6'2". I do get short with him though. I'm not quite 5'2". :)
Thanks for making it all the way through the story.
» left by Len Roe from Coos Bay, Oregon (89 days 15 hours ago.)
Hi Dianne. Just read your article. Reminds me of my first ride. At about 7 years old. I took a ride on a horse rigged with a working harness, no saddle. Had to ride down hill for about 1/2 mile. When I got to the bottom I was hanging on for dear life underneath the hores. Afraid to let go. Thought the horse would step on me. Good story, keep it up. I enjoy reading your stuff.
Thank you so much for reading my stuff. I am glad that you enjoyed the article.
That's a real picture you painted! How'd you manage to hang on to a big horse's belly!?
My first ride was at about the same age. No saddle or harness. It was within a corral and I fell off...right in some horse crap. My cousins thought it was very funny.
» left by Len from Coos Bay, Oregon (89 days 13 hours ago.)
I managed to stay on that old work horse by hanging tight to the harness straps. I was afraid if I let go he would step on me. After that the 7 year old boy decided it was time to try bull riding. I tried to ride a calf in a pin. Didn't know a calf could buck so hard and fast. At 10 I still didn't have brains. I rode a mule. He wouldn't move so I grabbed his tail and gave is a crank. It was the quickest dismount I ever saw. He bucked me off and kicked me on the way down. I had a shoe print on my butt cheek of a month.
Hi Len. You're a tough one, aren't you! I have a lot of respect for mules. I read a story (with pictures) about a mule that killed a mountain lion. It was titled, "Why Some People Ride Mules," or something like that. Don't know that I would ever try riding one.
I think one of the most wonderful and frustrating things about animals in general is their unpredictability.
Thanks for answering. Maybe you should write about your adventures with calfs and horses and mules. It would probably be very entertaining. :)
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