New Mexico. Brokeback Style.
The last time I actually rode a horse was probably back in Boy Scouts. Maybe at a fair somewhere as a child, taking a wild ride on a stoned and tethered horse walking in a circle. Holding tight on the reins in fear of the horse going wild and taking off through the cotton candy laden crowd. Or perhaps I was The Lone Ranger, trekking through the wild west in search of fortune and fame and a town to call my own.
**insert The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly wah-wah-wah theme here**
All these were important questions at the time. Upon seeing the horses, tethered and docile with very little interest in either myself or Dave as we walked toward them, the rational part of my took hold and gently said, "Man up, bitch." Words of wisdom, I would say.
Our Riding Guide was running a bit late, which gave Dave and I an opportunity to run through a slew of jokes pertaining to our coming ride. I can't really remember them now, but I'm positive they were hilarious.
Our Riding Guide, Gene, showed up and got us ready to head out. After, of course, we each signed a release form. You know, in case the thing with my manly-man-scent happened, or perhaps we were mistaken for large Elk on horseback. These things occur, and always when you least expected it. If you sign a waiver, though, then it won't happen. So pass the pen.
He assigned us our horses. Dave, being a black guy, was immediately given a black horse. I wasn't offended
though, because that meant if a crazed killer suddenly lunged out of the woods with an axe and attacked us, they would both die first. I've seen movies. I know how this stuff works. His horse, naturally, was named Blackjack. I assume it was one word, because I thought Black Jack would just be too politically incorrect.
My horse was next. I found out his name was Reno after the ride. During the ride, I referred to him as One-Eyed Willy. From Goonies? Geez, go rent it already. I referred to him in such a way because he only had one eye. I was about to go on the first horsey ride in many, many years and was given the horse with one eye. Yippie-kay-yay. Also, I got the feeling he wasn't thrilled to have my bulk weighing on his spine. I got this feeling because when I got on, his spine snapped.
So after two rolls of duct tape and some quick thinking by Gene, we were on our way. Our hike was to be about an hour or so, and took us up a trail into the mountains. The trail began nice and wide, car-width, and eventually shrunk down into a regular in-the-woods trail. The terrain was grass and dirt for the most part, but in some spots it became very rocky and loose. This is where it got a little scary.
Because Willy had only one eye, he would turn his head to the side every now and then to get a better read on where the other horses were, as well as what part of the trail was forthcoming. All of the horses were used to this walk, as they offer the activity to everyone at the ranch, so it really shouldn't have had me wary. Still, you expect a horse to go in the direction it's head is pointing, typically. So to have it walk straight when it's looking the other way is unnerving, even taking into account it was not looking the other way. It just has one eye. So it almost feels like it's not even looking where it's going.
I'm sorry, I keep saying it. He. Reno. Willy. Ol' One Eye. Whatever.
Enough with the deep stuff. Back to the ride on the lucky one-eyed horse named Reno.
I didn't think these thoughts at first. It was after crossing the first stream and actually feeling through my ass on the saddle the rocks shifting underneath Willy's hooves. I've never gripped something so hard in my life. Well, not since my membership to Mr. Skin ran out. I do love me some naked celebs.
We got back to the ranch, got me a pic while still saddled on Reno, then dismounted. While dismounting the pocket of my shirt caught on the saddle and ripped off a button. Nice. We thanked Gene then headed back over to the ranch, walking just a bit gingerly.
Definitely worth it, and I would recommend a nice horsey ride to anyone. It's pretty relaxing when your horse has two eyes, and it's just Something Different. Always a good thing.
So it's somewhat understandable that I approached my horse-riding activity (one of some of the other activities they offer during your stay at the Cow Creek Ranch) with some trepidation and wariness. Will my beer-gut be the catalyst to finally break this horse's spine? Will my manly-man-scent be enough to drive the steed into a frenzy of jealous hatred and buck me off? Am I just a few minutes from living out my life as the former Superman had to live his? What if I hurt my junk on the saddle?
All these were important questions at the time. Upon seeing the horses, tethered and docile with very little interest in either myself or Dave as we walked toward them, the rational part of my took hold and gently said, "Man up, bitch." Words of wisdom, I would say.Our Riding Guide was running a bit late, which gave Dave and I an opportunity to run through a slew of jokes pertaining to our coming ride. I can't really remember them now, but I'm positive they were hilarious.
Our Riding Guide, Gene, showed up and got us ready to head out. After, of course, we each signed a release form. You know, in case the thing with my manly-man-scent happened, or perhaps we were mistaken for large Elk on horseback. These things occur, and always when you least expected it. If you sign a waiver, though, then it won't happen. So pass the pen.
He assigned us our horses. Dave, being a black guy, was immediately given a black horse. I wasn't offended
though, because that meant if a crazed killer suddenly lunged out of the woods with an axe and attacked us, they would both die first. I've seen movies. I know how this stuff works. His horse, naturally, was named Blackjack. I assume it was one word, because I thought Black Jack would just be too politically incorrect.My horse was next. I found out his name was Reno after the ride. During the ride, I referred to him as One-Eyed Willy. From Goonies? Geez, go rent it already. I referred to him in such a way because he only had one eye. I was about to go on the first horsey ride in many, many years and was given the horse with one eye. Yippie-kay-yay. Also, I got the feeling he wasn't thrilled to have my bulk weighing on his spine. I got this feeling because when I got on, his spine snapped.
So after two rolls of duct tape and some quick thinking by Gene, we were on our way. Our hike was to be about an hour or so, and took us up a trail into the mountains. The trail began nice and wide, car-width, and eventually shrunk down into a regular in-the-woods trail. The terrain was grass and dirt for the most part, but in some spots it became very rocky and loose. This is where it got a little scary.
Because Willy had only one eye, he would turn his head to the side every now and then to get a better read on where the other horses were, as well as what part of the trail was forthcoming. All of the horses were used to this walk, as they offer the activity to everyone at the ranch, so it really shouldn't have had me wary. Still, you expect a horse to go in the direction it's head is pointing, typically. So to have it walk straight when it's looking the other way is unnerving, even taking into account it was not looking the other way. It just has one eye. So it almost feels like it's not even looking where it's going.
I'm sorry, I keep saying it. He. Reno. Willy. Ol' One Eye. Whatever.
On top of that, Willy liked to walk slower. So he would fall back a ways, notice that he had done so, then trot up to the other horses. This part was not fun. It was kind of neat at first, "Check me out, I'm on a trotting horse." The fourth time or so began to get old. Plus, all the bouncing made me worry I would come down hard on the fellas, if you catch my meaning. Ol' Willy though, he liked to trot. One might say he was hot to trot. So he would walk slow, turn his head sideways to check out how far back he was, then trot right on up behind Dave's horse who would immediately fart.
All of these drawbacks make it seem as if I did not enjoy the ride. Quite the contrary, I very much enjoyed it. I was a bit nervous here and there, but there was plenty of good as well. We were walking through the woods, after all, so it was scenic. Saw some elk, and there were great views of the surrounding mountains. Before 
turning back, we stopped in a large clearing with a great panoramic look at the mountains and the small valley we found ourselves in. All around us were almost-dead trees that were a result of a huge forest fire in 2000. Gene was telling us about how close the actual ranch itself came from being completely destroyed, and even had an entire separate building that was burned down only 50 or so yards from the main house. It was odd to see thousands of near-dead trees or scorched bark, then a grown pine tree with no damage right in between. There were some trees that were cleared of needles or leaves on one side, only to be flush on another. I saw one burnt out husk of a tree trunk, blackened and charred with a completely untouched branch sprouting from the side. A true testament to nature's perseverence in the face of natural disaster. Both fascinating and inspiring, in a way.
turning back, we stopped in a large clearing with a great panoramic look at the mountains and the small valley we found ourselves in. All around us were almost-dead trees that were a result of a huge forest fire in 2000. Gene was telling us about how close the actual ranch itself came from being completely destroyed, and even had an entire separate building that was burned down only 50 or so yards from the main house. It was odd to see thousands of near-dead trees or scorched bark, then a grown pine tree with no damage right in between. There were some trees that were cleared of needles or leaves on one side, only to be flush on another. I saw one burnt out husk of a tree trunk, blackened and charred with a completely untouched branch sprouting from the side. A true testament to nature's perseverence in the face of natural disaster. Both fascinating and inspiring, in a way.Enough with the deep stuff. Back to the ride on the lucky one-eyed horse named Reno.
On the journey back, we took a slightly different route which had us crossing the stream at no less than 4 separate areas. This had thoughts of the horse breaking it's leg, falling over, and trapping my leg underneath it running through my head. I was imagining how they would get an ambulance out there, and thinking of the bumpy journey back to Pecos, where there may or may not have been a doctor's office much less a hospital. I know, how thoroughly optimistic.
I didn't think these thoughts at first. It was after crossing the first stream and actually feeling through my ass on the saddle the rocks shifting underneath Willy's hooves. I've never gripped something so hard in my life. Well, not since my membership to Mr. Skin ran out. I do love me some naked celebs.
We got back to the ranch, got me a pic while still saddled on Reno, then dismounted. While dismounting the pocket of my shirt caught on the saddle and ripped off a button. Nice. We thanked Gene then headed back over to the ranch, walking just a bit gingerly.
Definitely worth it, and I would recommend a nice horsey ride to anyone. It's pretty relaxing when your horse has two eyes, and it's just Something Different. Always a good thing.
But, as Dr. Egon Spengler told us, "Don't Cross The Streams."
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