In the early 1980’s, my younger sister, Carolyn asked me to accompany her and her two children, Frank, age thirteen and Alisa, age ten, on a vacation to Yosemite National Park and Mammoth Lakes.
Driving up Highway 395, I was informed indirectly by Frank and Alisa of the planned activities for the upcoming week: Hiking, fishing, camping, and horse back riding.
Horse back riding? That bit of information stuck in my mind like an uncomfortable wad of glue! I hadn’t been on a horse is well over seventeen years!
After several pleasant days of hiking and fishing, the moment of truth arrived. At Red’s Meadow in Mammoth Lakes, a good-looking stable hand just happened to have four very alive looking horses available for the “experienced” rider. My sister assured him we were all experienced riders.
That was the precise moment my nervousness turned to anxiety. Upon trying to mount this huge steed, they called Glenn, it turned to fear. It wasn’t too far down the trail before I found myself in trouble with the saddle being too loose. Dismounting, Carolyn tightened the girth. After clamoring back on Glenn, I began to worry, “what else could go wrong?” Thus, the next hour proved to be anxiety-to-the-extreme.
Into our second hour, we galloped along narrow trails and between twisted pine trees while visions of either falling off of Glenn; or him stumbling and falling with me, tormented my mind.
Shortly we reached our first scenic item of interest, Devil’s Post Pile. Being scared-to-death, I opted to stay right in the saddle on Glenn’s back. Taking out my camera I tried to take a couple pictures of this natural scenic wonder. However, that ornery steed side-stepped and ruined the shots!
I nudged Glenn to catch-up with Carolyn, Alisa and Frank who had all ready started back on the trail and were putting considerable distance between me and them. Upon giving Glenn a gentle kick on his sides, he bolted off, as if someone had built a bon-fire under him!
Yanking on the reins I shouted, “Whoa, Glenn!” Having reached my niece’s horse, he slowed to an easy trot. I began to relax a little. To my utter amazement, the next fifteen minutes were actually pleasurable.
Reaching the edge of the San Joaquin River, we came to a halt. “Are we going to cross the river,” I asked trying to conceal the trepidation that was beginning to engulf me.
“Yes,” Carolyn answered, “Rainbow Falls is just on the other side, I would like for you to see it.” Glenn began to shift his weight from one foot to the other; the rocking sensation this caused almost made me seasick. “Stop it Glenn! Stand still!” I commanded, giving the reins a gentle jerk.
“You cross first,” Carolyn decided, turning her huge bay off the center of the tail to allow me to pass. “I prefer to follow,” I answered, “you know the way, I don’t.”
“Your horse is a little high strung; I noticed in that grove a trees back there he seemed to spook at the least little noise. I think you should go first.”
“Well, all right,” I said swallowing the lump in my throat. I nudged Glenn to the river’s edge, he hesitated, and my heart began to race with fear, as once again an extreme feeling of trepidation washed over me. Every muscle in my body felt tighter than a tuned guitar string.
“Make him cross! Give him a little kick with your foot.” Carolyn suggested.
“I don’t believe he likes this idea. Maybe he’s a follower. Maybe one of you should go first.” I said trying to abate the fear I was feeling. “Cate, just show him who’s boss.” Carolyn encouraged. I urged Glenn to the water’s edge nudging him with my foot to cross. He spun around dancing in little circles.
Promptly I pulled him to a halt and caught my breath. Two-fold fear was grasping at me: This horse being so unpredictable and the fact only seeing 2-D, I could not discern the deepness of the river.
I took a deep breath trying to relax. I gave Glenn another little kick to encourage him to step into the river. Wild-eyed he wheeled madly around, I could feel him hunch, a flashback came to me of a scene from Zane Grey’s “Call of the Canyon”, where his leading lady was on a horse which hunched.
I had always wondered what it would feel like to experience a horse hunching….now I know!” Glenn then began to buck and kick, continuing to do so in angry protest for several minutes.
“Auntie, Hang on!” Alisa shouted.
Frank began to shout and root, “Yahoo Aunt Cate! Stay with him!”
Only by the Lord’s hand did I manage to stay in the saddle until this dreadful creature recovered from his tantrum.
