Last weekend was just about perfect. And, to clarify, by ‘weekend’ I mean ‘Sunday’, since I’m working six days a week once again. And, only having one day off, I wanted to get out and try to do something interesting. Back in January and February, when I had a life, I was dancing five days a week, so I started out looking for dance classes on a Sunday. In North Bay, and during the summer at that, that was something of a no-go. And then I thought of horseback riding.
Now, prior to last weekend, I had been horseback riding exactly twice in my life (possibly barring some pony rides as a child that I no longer remember); I went on an hour-long trail ride as a teenager, and I got about 15 minutes on a horse when we took my god-daughter riding once when I was in my twenties. But I’ve read so much historical fiction in my life, so much fantasy, that my brain thinks I know how to ride. It’s very bizarre.
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny afternoon, a great day to spend some time outside. I drove half an hour east on highway 17 (part of the trans-Canada highway, woo!) with the windows down and CBC’s Vinyl Cafe on the radio, out to Rutherglen, Ontario. Von Doeler’s Ranch is tucked away at the end of a dirt road among a few little hills velvety with grass. I was greeted by a great big shaggy dog, but it took a few minutes of searching outbuildings before I found any people.
Elana was my teacher for the hour-long lesson, and she started me right at the beginning, showing me how to curry and brush the horse. I rode a lovely mare called Rosie, who was very patient with her clueless rider, but during the whole currying process, Mindy, in a neighbouring stall, kept butting me with her head, trying to see what was going on. Her wuffling kept tickling the backs of my arms. They let me choose whether I wanted to ride English or Western style (I chose English because of an unfortunate encounted with a saddle horn on that long-ago trail ride) and showed me how to buckle it on. Then the bridle and reins. We then led the horse to a fenced enclosure and the riding part of the lesson began.
It was a glorious afternoon. I got to do something I had always wanted to try, with the warm summer sun from above, and the kicked-up dust from below and a breeze full of the smell of wild grass and horses. During the afternoon, there were two things I was most proud of. First, being able to get on the horse without help – the stirrup is high and I’m somewhat out of shape at the moment, and I was convinced I was going to get stuck halfway up, not being able to get my leg over, with my butt sticking out, and then probably fall off in the dust. I’m sure it wasn’t graceful, but I got myself up on the first try. The second thing I was proud of was being able to post, if only for a few paces at a time, on my first lesson. There were a few narrow logs laid out in the dirt, the very, very beginning stages of jumps, I think, and there was one pass in my laps around the ring, where I was able to ‘steer’ the horse at them, and post, and then take the jumping position (I’ve forgotten what it’s called) and keep my heels down, all at the same time. So, for about 10 seconds, I was really riding. It felt wonderful, and Elana was a wonderful cheerleader.
I wasn’t entirely sure my legs would hold me when I swung down (again, not gracefully), but while they were somewhat rubbery, I didn’t fall down. As I said, it’s been months since I’ve been able to dance, and my muscles are for mush. We walked the horse back into the stable, and Elana showed me how to take the saddle and bridle off, and I brushed Rosie down one last time.
Back on the highway on the way back in to North Bay, I got a call from work asking me to drop a package off for my boss near Callander. Since Callander was on the list of places I wanted to visit anyway, I didn’t mind so much. On my way back from dropping off the package, I let myself go into full tourist mode. I pulled over at the lookout over Lake Nippissing to take some photos, then turned off the highway to drive through Callander, for once, instead of past it. It was after 4pm, and my goal was to hit the museum before it closed at 5pm, but I was distracted by a nearly-empty park that stretched between the road and the lake. I parked, just intending to take a couple more photos, but… I was seduced. The warm sun, the trees, the lake, the grass… I instantly gave up on the museum. My first thought was to wander out to the end of the little pier and dangle my feet in the water for a while, but the sign I passed warning against contact with the water because of toxic algae that had been found quickly put me off that idea. The ‘beach’ was just a narrow strip of sand, no way to avoid contact with the water, so I spread my sweatshirt out on the grass and sprawled on top of that. I took off my socks and shoes, rolled my jeans up past my knees, pulled my t-shirt up to the edge of my bra and succumbed to the primal joy of feeling the sun and the warm breeze on my skin. I pulled out my book and read for a while, another great joy. But in the end, I put the book aside and just enjoyed the moment, listening to the waves, the wind in the birch leaves, the call of seagulls, the far-off yells of children playing, soaking in the smell of the breeze, of the lake – cleaner here than in North Bay – of sun block and grass and fresh air. This was the first real summer weather we’d had all year and it was wonderful to just soak it up. I could feel my whole body just relaxing into the prickle of the grass. I don’t really spend a lot of time living in the moment, but this was two perfect hours of just that.
It was after six when I packed up and headed back to the hotel. I dug out my bathing suit and headed down to soak my abused leg muscles in the hot tub for a while. A perfect end to a perfect day.
kithika