Life In The Saddle

Sunday 26th June 2011

Okay, so you know I was saying I hadn’t done much riding? Well, how about the expression - “too much of a good thing”? Today I spent 8 hours in the saddle. “Woah” I hear you say. Woah indeed! Yesterday we rode the mountains for 6 hours through the most breathtaking countryside I have ever experienced. Mountain prairies strewn with wild flowers, pine forests clinging to steep slopes with a river winding through them - blissful.

Thinking that I’d top up my riding with a couple of hours round the ranch, I signed up for a ride out with Barry, an explosives expert who helps out occasionally. Now his day job should have given me some idea of what was in store...nooooo.

We left the ranch at 9.30am and arrived back at 5.45pm. By which time I was exhausted and stressed to the point of tears. I’m a shopkeeper for God’s sake! An energetic day for me is running up and down stairs finding shoes for customers!

It started badly when the horse I was on (“Gentle Ben”) decided to bolt on me ten minutes into the ride, along a canal bank. On being given instructions by the explosives expert: “Yank him round to the left real hard if he tries it again”, we proceeded on our ride with Gentle Ben (was it an ironic name?) biting any horse that came within a mouth’s distance of him. 

The choice of route had been left to Barry, and he was basically making it up as we went along. And along we went - over endless prairies littered with Sage bushes, up rocky promonteries, across awkward coulees - and on and on and on...

The scenery, in its way, was just as dramatic as the mountains of the day before. But instead of thinking “The Sound Of Music” think “High Plains Drifter” - all arid, rocky shelving hills and endless scrubby plains. I truly felt like an extra from a John Wayne Cowy as we wended our way across this barren landscape. 

By the time we stopped for our packed lunch & a toilet break I had had enough. Now three hours into our epic journey and exhausted from trying not to let Ben bolt, I begged Barry to head for home. “Sure” he said, in his usual laid back manner. And proceeded to take us back the scenic, five hour route.

I should have known there was something amiss when the horses strained to go right as we were heading left. These animals know what their doing and have an unerring sense of direction. Which is more than can be said of Barry. “We’re going to head back along this ridge here” he said, pointing to a stupidly high wall of rock. “it might be a little testing gettin down but we’ll be fine”.

My heart sank. I have to confess to having a bit of a fear of heights. Ladders make me nervous, our roof-terrace makes me nervous! Traversing steep slopes on horseback made me want to pee my pants. But more of that later...

Now to give you a clear idea of the terrain we were scaling, understand that these hills are made of igneous stratus rock (Chris told me that). So they’re like sandstone layers which over the years have eroded to form rocks and sand. A little slippery under foot then.

Up and up and up we went until the majesty of the Montanan countryside spread out around us as far as the eye could see. I took a deep breath and tried to register the dramatic beauty of it all. But my mind was elsewhere. “So I’m guessing that if we’re up this high then we have to go down as far on the other side?” I asked, hoping for an answer that never came.

“Yup” was the monosyllabic response from Barry while my travelling companions laughed at what they imagined to be an ironic question. I was serious though! I was desperately hoping that this steep ridge would miraculously taper out to a gentle plain on the other side, with the ranch twinkling welcomingly in the (not too) distance.

Fat chance. 

We proceeded to descend, with the horses slipping and sliding at an 120’ angle. I knew enough to put my weight in each stirrup and breathe - harder than it sounds when you’re terrified out of your wits.

But we made it and I relaxed a little, sure that we must be on the homeward stretch. How wrong I was. Crossing another endless, scrubby plain we reached another rocky outcrop high above the landscape. How did that happen? I thought we were descending!

On asking how far to the ranch, Barry pointed to another ridge in the far distance where a tiny white barn stood. “See that barn? The ranch is on the other side of that”.

I could have wept. Literally. Remember I told you about my friends at Jenners and how we used to discuss being airlifted from the building on stressful days? Well if ever I needed a rescue helicopter, this was it. Knowing that there wasn’t a hope in hell of that happening, I resorted to continuous, tuneless whistling. The need to breathe while doing this seemed to calm my nerves, with the added bonus of irritating all around me. (Yes, by this point I was behaving like a fractious child!)

Jane, a fabulous woman from Manchester who spends so much time on the ranch that she is regarded both as family & staff, saved me from complete insanity by suggesting I sing. This also helps you to breathe and relaxes the horse. And so we continued across another plain with me singing a raucous version of the Oompa Loompa song from “Charlie & The Chocolate Factory”.

An hour later we reached a dusty road - the first sign of civilisation in 6 hours. Barry decided that this was a good opportunity to let the horses have a bit of a run. Off went the other guests and, yes, Ben wanted to join them. Encouraged by Jane to give it a go, I decided to be brave and follow suit.

Ben immediately began to trot and I practiced my “posting” (a rising trot). Within seconds he had speeded up to a lope (a canter in English). Picture the scene: Me with my Stetson clamped to my head, bedraggled & exhausted, singing the Oompa Loompa song as I hurtle along, feet pushed deep into my stirrups and my butt slapping rythmically on the saddle.

And I have a tip for you ladies: Do not try loping if you need to pee...you will.

Buoyed by my first successful lope, I yanked Ben to a stop and decided to give it another go. Still singing I started him up again only to find myself quickly devoid of stirrups and holding onto the horn of my saddle for dear life. When I finally stopped him I found Jane in fits of laughter. Dear “Gentle Ben” had managed to kick Barry’s horse as he rode alongside me, while in full lope. Well at least it wasn’t anything I’d done wrong.

As we finally neared the ranch I reluctantly admitted that, while mostly hating the whole experience, like all challenging situations, I’d learnt a hell of a lot. 

Dear Chris was waiting for me on our return and thankfully helped me to unsaddle my horse. (Saddling your own horse is a great motto, but equally important is knowing when to accept help!) Sitting me down with a glass of wine back at the ranch, he asked me about my day. Whereupon I immediately burst into tears. Eight hours of concentration and stress had built up to leave me a blubbering wreck. As they’d say around here - “Cowgirl up!”

Feeling like Goldie Hawn in “Private Benjamin”, it wasn’t until I’d washed my hair and put on my new, blingy cowgirl jeans that I was able to laugh about my experience. 

The lesson learned? (Apart from trotting, loping & how to control an errant horse.)

Be careful what you ask for - the universe will provide.