Saturday, May 26, 2012

The Mother's Day Ride



Clip, creak, clop, creak, clip, creak, cop, creak. 15 miles into the trail and Buster is setting a steady pace as the hooves and saddle make music on a warm spring day. I’m swaying along and letting my thoughts wander… and my eyes close. It’s the sun doing it! I’m not sleepy. Only closed ‘em for a second… really! I open my eyes again as a slight turn wakes me up and realize that Buster has started down the wrong path. Oops, I guide him back before Jessica notices I’ve dozed off. We’ve been silent the past mile, both of us talked out. We still have over an hour to go to get home. This is our longest ride to date.
 This ride came about after Jessica and I had been riding for a couple of months, after she had decided that I was a real rider, after we had discovered we got along on the trail. Out of the blue, she invited me on her annual Mother’s Day ride. For some years now she and some friends have ridden from the field where her horses are pastured to Roche Harbor resort for the brunch that they sponsor. This is close to a 20 mile round trip ride so her asking me meant that she had confidence in my ability to go the distance. It also meant that she was willing to let me mingle with her other horse buddies. I was flattered that she would include me in this ride. This was months before the Pacific Crest Trail ride came into being, so for that time, this was my Big Ride to look forward too.
As the weeks progressed, Jess told me that the girls liked to get dressed up in full western gear to do this ride. They made an “Event” out of it! I had a hat and plain boots, jeans and a plain shirt but nothing fancy like she had so I asked if I could wear my pistols. I may not have a fancy western shirt or expensive boots but I do have a brace of real Colt revolvers and a very nice set of custom holsters made in Tombstone Arizona! If you want real holsters to match the pistols, I can’t think of a better place of origin to have stamped into the leather than Tombstone. It always botherd me that I had a set of fancy, Sunday-go-to-meetin’ holsters with no place to wear them. A trail ride to Roche seemed the perfect chance to show them off. What better way to celebrate Mother’s Day!
Jessica laughed and whole-heartedly endorsed the idea. I said that it might cause a stir. She said “Good!” Sometimes I do impulsive things with very little provocation, but with this kind of support, impulsive actions are guaranteed. Meanwhile, my Fearless Wife got on board with the ride by saying that she would meet us at Roche. She’s not horse rider but she does like her bicycle so she planned on the 20 mile trip as a nice workout and lunch. It would also be nice to have her there with bail just in case things went badly.
The trip out to the resort was easy tho it was just Jessica and I as everyone else had other obligations. We saddled up and headed out. We’d done some 10 mile rides previously and as the weeks progressed, I was less tired each time we rode so I wasn’t too worried about the trip to the resort. It was the ride home I was ‘anticipating’. Yes, that’s the right word. I was anticipating it.
 Arriving at Roche we tied the horses in the brush far enough off the road so that they wouldn’t be bothered by casual passers by. From the hill overlooking the harbor we walked down to the cafĂ©. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called Lunnette and found that she had just arrived. We met in front of the store and walked back to the restaurant and got a table on the deck.
On the way in, I got a few looks and one tourist asked me why I needed a gun? “Well, you just never know when you may meet someone who needs shooting.” I replied. He edged away but no 911 calls so far. Sitting down, I find that plastic chairs and holsters are from different centuries and don’t work well together so I had to take off the gun and lay it on the table. A young couple sitting behind us asked if it was a real gun and again, “Why?” I decided to play the colorful sidekick roll this time.
“A young woman with a wild heart (gesturing at Jess) needs an old man with a fast gun to back her play when she goes to town.” They liked that explanation and smiled. Being the colorful sidekick is a durable role and one I’ll cultivate. Jessica can be the star in this movie. Of course I’ll have to learn how to cook and grumble about my age. These are standard lines for a colorful sidekick but I think I can swing that without too much trouble. One last thing on the way out confirmed that our western dress was just the ticket when a woman in a fancy Mercedes came up the narrow road as we walked back towards the horses. She was chattering on her cell phone when she noticed the gear and guns and her eyes bugged out and I could read her lips as she exclaimed to whoever she was talking to, “Oh my God! You’re not going to believe what I just saw!”
Lunnette meets us on the way out and took some pictures. The horses did just fine with her bike. As we rode up, she’s talking to an acquaintance who we met as we rode in earlier. We would see this same friend a third time as we rode by the Roche Harbor airport. She lives on the runway and she waved from her house as we went by. We take the long way back to the watershed trail and as we start up the hill, conversation lags and I started dozing. There is this about horses: unlike cars, they can drive themselves! There are places you need to be in control and alert but other times, your attention can lag for a bit. You can even nap! Of course “drive themselves” doesn’t mean that they can navigate.

greg hertel, jessica colling,


Clip, creak, clop, creak. I open my eyes and realize that Jess has gone down a different trail than the one we came in on. I inquire about it and she jerks up and I realize that she’s been doing just what I was doing, napping. Of course she claims to be just riding with her eyes closed because it’s fun to do. Whatever. We both have a good laugh when we compare notes and realize out that at least one of us should have their eyes open or we might end up someplace unexpected! The last couple miles seem to last at least another 20 miles! My knees are sore, my legs are sore and it seems to take forever but we finally arrive at the pasture. I swing my leg over, kick out of the stirrups and slither down the saddle in the least graceful dismount of the year. Thank god Buster is tired and wants to just stand cause I don’t think that I can walk after landing! Jessica is sitting on Cheesburger looking intently at me with some concern, wondering if I’ll be able to walk. Yup, eventually, tired, but still mobile. I creak and groan much like the saddle but then I am the colorful sidekick and this is expected and just another excuse to drink some “rhumatiz medicine” when we hit the saloons along the trail.  

1 comment:

Baby By The Sea said...

Really enjoyed reading this -- thanks so much for your kind words on my heavy heart post.