Horseback Riding

We frequently celebrate the firsts in our lives. Today, I’ll describe and celebrate one of the ‘lasts’ of my life.

During the past few years, after watching a Netflix series that included a ranch with many horses, I’ve been longing to ride a horse again. I briefly investigated some nearby riding stables, but never acted on my whim. But, here I am in the Mexican desert, Sonora state, through the grace of Suzanne, a generous and gracious writing buddy, and, now, my hostess.

On one of my first days here, during a sightseeing excursion, we passed a riding ranch. Suzanne mentioned that she sometimes rides there and that riding in the desert is wonderful. I immediately said that I’d like to ride, if there were an opportunity. Outstanding hostess that she is, she quickly arranged for us to ride with another friend of hers, Jean, yesterday morning.

I’d already met Jean at Suzanne’s birthday party, when we (with other friends) were all entertained with songs of the seventies by the singing duo, Janice and Abraham. Imagine us singing along to Dancing Queen and familiar songs by Roy Orbison, Carly Simon, Neil Diamond, and more. Next, imagine us dancing on Suzanne’s back porch, overlooking the Pacific. Is this real? Am I dreaming? No, it is real, so real.

I digress. Back to the promise of horseback riding. So, Jean picked us up at about 9 am and drove us along a really bumpy road to the ranch, where I met Astrid, the owner and friend of Suzanne and Jean. When asked, I told her that I had ridden previously, though not for a while and not often. I said that I needed a horse who knew what he was doing, who didn’t need to depend on me. Jean had told me that she usually rode Gordo, because he was so dependable and calm, but that I could ride him today.

We had a discussion about the length of the ride and the course we should take. The others immediately dismissed a simple one-hour ride. When asked, I said I’d be fine with a 2 1/2 hour ride. After all, I’d only be sitting on a horse. Suzanne suggested that probably an hour and a half would be best for me.

Astrid, with the aid of a helpful man and a concrete set of steps, assisted me in mounting Gordo. There was a moment when I thought it was impossible: it seemed doubtful that my right leg could lift as high and wide as was needed to get into the saddle. But, with the help of these two knowledgeable folks, the set of steps, and Astrid’s shortening of the stirrups, I made it! Ok, I thought, now, all I need to do is stay here until the end of the ride.

Astrid gave me a brief lesson on how to sit (feet out, not against Gordo), how to hold and guide the reins (with one hand), and how to stop (pull the reins, then release.) I was to be in last place, following the others behind Suzanne, and was not to allow Gordo to get too close to the others.

I was so excited to be riding a horse again! And into the desert! You know how we each occasionally have moments of blending both seeing ourselves, as if from outside, and experiencing the experience from the inside? Well, this was one of those for me.

Off we went, the others looking so beautiful on their beautiful horses, and me, behind. I adjusted to being in the saddle, reminding myself to relax, to trust Gordo, as my legs tried to adjust to this unfamiliar wide stance. I was pleased with myself as I led Gordo to the right or to the left with my use of the reins. Or, was he simply following the horse in front of him? I gave myself credit for my part in this operation.

So, we rode through the desert, surrounded by dried-out shrubs, an occasional green cactus, and the beautiful mountains around us. I frequently thanked Gordo for his sure-footedness and his good care of me. It was probably after about half an hour that I began to wonder when we would turn back. Occasionally, Astrid would look back to me and ask how I was doing. “Great!” or “fine,” I would respond, until, finally, “OK.” I was beginning to wonder how I would get off of Gordo, remembering the challenge of mounting him.

After maybe an hour, I asked if we could stop, so I could take a few pictures. Of course, they agreed and I snapped a few pictures, trying to include some green cacti with the mountains. Then, we continued riding. I looked at my watch occasionally and wondered when we would turn back. Jean had been leading us. Occasionally, she asked Astrid about the route. We were sort of lost. At one point, someone suggested that we should take the shortest route back, for my benefit. We stopped again and were reminded to drink water, which I did gladly.

At one point, we were near the edge of a cliff, making me really anxious. “How do I make Gordo back up?” Astrid told me to steer him to the side, which I unsuccessfully attempted. Finally, she rode over and led him away. Later, others assured me that Gordo would never have walked over the cliff, so probably my anxiety was unfounded. However, there it was.

As we rode back, I wondered whether I would ever be able to walk again. I was torn between wanting to arrive back at the ranch and dreading to dismount. Probably the ride was about two hours. I held these two contradictory thoughts: I was so glad to be riding and I desperately wanted to be off this horse!

Well, of course, we did arrive back at the ranch. I was skillfully helped off of Gordo, told to sit for a few minutes to regain my equilibrium, then, given a chance to feed Gordo some carrots.

I again thanked him for his sure-footedness and his good care of me. As I walked around, I felt quite a discomfort in my hips and crotch. Still, I was satisfied. I’d gotten to ride again and this would be my last ride ever. And, that was ok.