Horse around.

My mom grew up on an Iowa farm with a pinto horse named Beauty. She got that horse when she was about nine years old and spent a lot of time after school riding her. After visiting a friend or going for a long ride, my mom could fall asleep on the horse’s back and Beauty would just take her on home. There was a saddle, but she rode mostly bareback, grabbing the mane with her strong arm and somehow hoisting her petite frame onto the horse.

Beauty was still around when I was a kid. I remember one particular time riding her with my mom through a snow-covered field near my grandparents’ farm, the snow sparkling as it does when untouched on a sunny, cold day in winter. In her later years, Beauty became friends with a ram who would follow her and keep her company. After Beauty, it was many years before I rode a horse again. I went on a trail ride one autumn during college in Colorado. But then nothing. Only memories of Beauty, oh so long ago.

Here I am on Beauty, when I was but a wee one. My mom was leading
us around my grandparents' farm. Beauty was a good, gentle soul. 

So when traveling through Guatemala a few years ago and the opportunity to go horseback riding presented itself, I took the reigns of nostalgia and said, “Giddy up!” Neither of my friends, Ronja from Denmark (you have read about her before here and here), or Evelyn from Guatemala (you have read about her here), had been on a horse before. An adventure awaited us. And we did have a great time.

Here I am in Guatemala, getting ready to go site
seeing with my new buddy.

One thing I noticed while horseback riding in Central America was that the stirrups were too short (or high) for this tall gringa. The most obvious example of this occurred when I went for a trail ride around Laguna Apoyo in Nicaragua. My knees were just too bent to be comfortable. But evidently changing them was too much work or something because my requests were not heeded. It was kind of like riding a bicycle that is too small, only the horse was not too small ... it just felt like he was because my knees were in my chin. But I still had fun, and enjoyed the time with my friends (read more about them here), the views, and the company of a grand animal. 

Here I am on a sweet Nicaraguan horse in a pose more
suitable to a yoga ball. Research tells me the stirrup
(where your foot goes) should come to just below or at
the ankle when your leg is hanging down straight.
Um, not quite. 

To bring up bicycles again, I will say that riding a horse is like riding a bike. You really don’t forget how to do it, even after many years, and even after never really being a master rider to begin with. Going horseback riding somewhere you are visiting, whether it’s a foreign country or not, is part of the traveling adventure you should consider, even if you do it on a regular basis at home. You get to see some beautiful views, enjoy the outdoors, and make a new friend (i.e. the horse). So jump up on that saddle, and ride into the sunset. And good luck with the stirrups.