Just like riding a bike

A story from ages ago that I’ve wanted to tell you but I never found the time. Now that I’m supposed to be writing a 20 page paper, it seems like the perfect opportunity to procrastinate.

For spring break, our whole group with to Kwazulu-Natal for some amazing camping on a game reserve. (one of my best friends from SA insists I don’t call this a “safari” because we weren't going into the heart of darkness on horseback true “safari style.” Pshh.) Some amazing stories to share later that include a run-in with a momma rhino and her baby while we cross a river, and my solo night watch hearing leopards and hyenas across the river.

But I digress.

The second part of our spring break was in the Drakensburg, and the second day we were given the option to go horseback riding through the mountains.  You could choose between “experienced” and “beginner.”

Now, I've ridden a bit back in the day, and I knew the beginner one would be to slow to my liking. So I thought, I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike—I’ll be fine.

FALSE.

Actually, it would be an accurate statement if it went something like this:

"Horseback riding is just like riding a bike if you never really knew how to ride a bike in the first place, and the bike you’re riding now is ALIVE and realizes you have no idea what you’re doing and totally wants to fuck with you."

The second we’re on the trail, our guide turns around and says, “everyone can canter, right?” UMMMM I’ve cantered maybe once in my life. I instantly knew this was going to be an adventure of epic proportions.

Some highlights of the ride include:

• Frantically trying to get the rhythm of trotting (and failing—the theme of the story)
• Cantering across absolutely stunning scenery—and crossing rivers, mountains, open fields, etc
• My horse completely taking advantage of me and riding up on the ass of the horse in front. Which was especially terrifying when we were cantering and I had no control whatsoever.
• Yelling “Stop! Stop! Stop!” in a girly whiney voice whenever this happened.
• Having my heart rate beating a racing tattoo against my chest the entire time

Near the end of the ride, proud I had survived so far, the guide turns around and says “you guys want to gallop now?” My response? “UMM NO THANKS.” To which my friends told me to just “suck it up and go with it.”

So I did. And it was absolutely amazing. We were going so fast and the ride was so smooth at that speed.

Until...

Until we start slowing down and I see that my horse is heading for a small tree. And I get the impression that it’s going to gallop under the tree and clothes-line me. So I duck down and lay flatter on my horse. And I end up being forced up onto the neck of the horse. When we stop I’m literally clinging onto the neck of the horse completely off my saddle. Classic.

I should mention at this point that my dear dear friend who is riding behind me has been laughing hysterically at me this entire time. To my terrified requests to “stop stop stop,” to the time I’m sliding off my saddle, or just my general fear that I will die on this horse, I can always hear a gleeful burst of laughter from behind me. Thanks Luke.

Anyways...

The climax of this whole story is the second time we start to gallop. My crazy horse starts to ride up again on the ass of the horse in front of him, and it gets to a point that my foot slips out of the stirrup. And I start to tilt. And during all this time something becomes very clear: I.Am.Going.To.Fall.

Once I come to grips with this understanding, I decide to fall on my own terms, and pitch myself over, doing a graceful barrel role (regardless of what it really looked like, it was graceful in my head) and watching my horse joyfully gallop towards to barn. It’s a good thing I was wearing a helmet.

(While you’re reading this, insert in your mind the hysterical laughter—the kind that literally pains your stomach because you’re laughing so hard—coming from Luke)

Given the chance, I’d totally do it again.