Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Gail Cushman
When Cowboy suggested that we take an excursion that included riding a horse, I started laughing. “Ride a horse,” I laughed, “you must be kidding. I’ve ridden a few horses in my youth, but have realized that the words horses and Gail, your 80-year-old consort, should not be used in the same sentence.”
Cowboy can be mighty convincing, “Short horses and tall grass. Soft landing if you fall off.” After a few days, I broke down. “Okay, but if I break something, you’re going to pay, and that means a four-hour shopping trip of my choosing.”
He grimaced and said, “You’ll be fine. I have faith, you can do anything you put your mind to, old girl.” He was careful about the “old girl,” comment, but it was still there.
So, off we went. We had a beautiful bus ride from the port to a nice stable, where ten unsuspecting horses eyed us. Several horses focused on me, somehow aware that I was their worst enemy. “Who here hasn’t ridden a horse?” said the guy in charge, who told me to call him “nephew”, so I did.
At age 12, I had ridden a horse at Camp Alice Pittenger, Idaho’s Girl Scout Camp, and avoided being maimed or maiming the pony, but I didn’t think that counted, so I raised my hand. “Me,” I said, “but he says it’s on my bucket list.” I pointed at Cowboy who had pulled his hat over his eyes and moved to the back of the group.
Nephew number one said, “Okay, young lady, you get on first. Come with me.” I had flashes of these nephews saying, “Trust me, I won’t hurt you, little girl.”
He led me to a stool of sorts and helped me stand on it. It wobbled a bit when I stood on the first step, and then he moved me to step two, and I wondered about the likelihood of an earthquake. Another nephew led a gigantic horse over to me. He didn’t speak English, but said something like “pequeno”, but why would I need a stool if she were small? My birthday was last week, but I wasn’t born yesterday. “This is Colorada,” nephew number one said. “She is a nice, gentle horse. Just sit tight and hold the reins like this while we get everyone else fixed up.”
Cowboy was next and jumped on the horse like it was a loaf of bread, at which point, Colorada decided she was hungry and started devouring everything in sight. Cowboy said, “Tighten the rein, don’t let her eat,” at which point, I was bent forward, stretched over the horse like Olive Oyl and looking at the ground, wondering how I could get her head back up. Nephew number two came over and redid the reins, whispered some words in Colorada’s ear and moved us to the asphalt driveway, which made me happy, but Colorada was miffed and started making loud snorting sounds I had never before heard. She twisted her head back and gave me a one-eyed stink eye.
The trail ride began. Nine out of the ten people on this trail ride were professional horsemen, at least in my eyes. I was determined to finish the trail ride unscathed, sitting upright on Colorada, after she learned who was the boss lady. Colorada and I were six people back in this parade, and Cowboy stayed behind me. I think he had the four-hour shopping trip on his mind and was determined for me to stay upright on Colorada. We moved from asphalt to gravel to dirt and Colorada and I were doing fine. The number one nephew stayed behind me, as well. Although I didn’t feel confident, I still felt okay. I looked at my watch and saw an hour had passed. It was time to get off, but nobody said, “Whoa.” We were now walking across big rocks, maybe four to six inches in diameter, and a bunch of tree limbs. It began to rain, what next? The stones led into a stream, which led into a bigger stream and suddenly Colorada was knee deep in a raging river and my new shoes were covered with muddy water. Wait a minute, this was not part of the description. Colorada didn’t seem to mind and aimed toward higher and faster rapids. Cowboy remained silent. Some kind of caretaker was he. We stopped and the nephews, one on each side, adjusted me in the saddle, and we started up again.
Two hours. Colorada stepped faster, as we moved across the Pampas. She whinnied at the sight of home, I just hung on, nothing was going to deter me from the appointed mission, or something like that. We landed. Mission accomplished and Colorada and I parted ways. Relief, the ground under my feet, unsteady, I walked again. I petted Colorada and thanked her for not killing this 80-year-old grandmother. She seemed to look at me and say, “Whew, another dude done.” And went back to eating grass, not impressed.
Life is about adventures, this is one I should have tried 50 years ago, but what the heck, Cowboy was beaming and I walked over and whispered, “Talbots, 4 hours’ worth.” He smiled and said “Worth it.”
