THE JOY OF TRAIL RIDING

The hidden trail began in scattered pine meadow midway between two small sub alpine lakes. We would have seen puffball clouds float through an electric blue sky but our noses, both horse and human, were pinned to the trail as horses dug in, ants scaling the dark side of the mountain. Up and up the spiral trail wound until we conquered a few false summits then leveled off on a barren alpine ridge, then along the ridge, still upward to an adjoining ridge. And then we were on top of the world.
We dismounted, hitched horses to some hard-edged boulders and stood aloof, speechless in our surroundings. Countless and endless peaks, some rugged and busted and some rounded. Colorful grassy meadows cradled high and hidden from common folk but revealed to us. Ice, snow, black, brown, green, yellow, red, purple mountains, valleys as muted, mottled worms fading into the distance.
Overwhelmed and our breath taken we just drifted off each in their chosen direction. Jerry and Rick and Kathy over to a grassy knoll to face the endless west and me over the adjoining ridge to see what a hidden valley at our backside hid. After studying the valley, I returned to sit alone with a boulder for a back rest. My clients were in plain sight.
For some reason they were animated, as if some discussion of great importance was taking place or had taken place. Now heads were bowed, rather than studying the breath-taking view. Kathy appeared distressed and Rick was comforting her. I was worried. Maybe some family matter had surfaced at this emotional moment. Maybe an illness. Rick and Kathy were recently engaged, and she had never been to the mountains, coming from the east. I waited and when they finally wandered back to the horses I edged over to Jerry, who is Ricks brother and a friend, now on his second Blue Creek adventure in the Alberta Rockies.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“It looked like Kathy was crying.”
“She is.”
“Why, is everything ok?”
Jerry gave me an odd look, a reflection of the odd look on my own face.
“It’s this,” Jerry said. I looked around to see if I had missed something. I could not see anything out of place.
“What?”
“This, everything, she’s never been in any place like this before.”
And then I realized she was overcome with the beauty and glory, the power of it all. Impact, like she had walked into heaven, and maybe she had.
Over the years I have come to know the joy or trail riding, as many others have, and its print upon my soul has been stamped, deeply, beyond anything other than my family. It is truly inspirational how the memories of past trail moments stay with us, maybe a particular vista, maybe a stream, a meadow, a campsite, a patch of flowers, a glimpse of a grizzly, or a face, the smile of a trial companion. I even remember rocks or trees or how the tent looked from twenty years back, while important family moments or other events, traumatic, happy, and otherwise, are shrouded, vague, lost through the mists of time.
And it’s not just me.
Every year I receive phone calls and emails from past guests and friends whose memory plays back the moments of their trail ride. Like a broken record, again and again, joyful times, a buoy to float them through difficult times, less memorable times, or just to remind them that dreams are sometimes real. For the past twenty-six years I have been telling a story about Christof and Sondra, a young Swiss couple who I discovered peeking through the old wooden fence rails while I trained a horse at Jasper, Alberta. After I beckoned them over with some animated hand gestures, and had some fractured discussion, they joined me on a two-hour trail ride. The rest was history. They were hooked, discovered why they had come to Canada, and cancelled most of their original Canadian plans and travelled the wilderness much of mid-July until mid-September with me. The rest of their story is about the metamorphosis of this intrepid couple. I remember one cold morning, the skies threatening, their first high pass in sight, and the hearty breakfast of Red River porridge, bacon, eggs, and toast. I dug in, Sondra helped herself, while Christof, a painfully thin young man, thighs as narrow as my arms, thick black curly hair blended into a black curly beard, wearing a librarians round black spectacles, only nibbled on a piece of dry toast. I explained the horrors of weather over the coming five-mile snowy pass and that he must eat well – it was a very long day. He seemed confused. I pleaded with Sondra, who was better at English, and she pleaded with Christof, to the point of anger. But these were polite and pleasant people. Finally, Christof smiled at me and said apologetically. “Me, no eat morning, affect my sensibilities.”
Well, we headed over the pass, hours of cold, snow, and I will never forget Christof riding along, pelted by large white snowflakes, wearing a marginal jacket, exposed hands and wrists. Me, bundled like an Inuit and still freezing. Christof, with a grin as broad as the windblown pass. Never a word of complaint. Now, twenty-six years later, he emailed me day before yesterday. He wants to experience the Rockies again. The memories his bedtime story - the joy of the trails tucking him in all of these years. He asked me if I remembered him. Little does he know that he is as important to me as I am to him- sharing it all, a reason for living.
Trail riding is a cleansing, both spiritually and physically. Society, civilization, its demands, rules, stresses, place so many chains and layers of bondage upon us that it takes a dramatic change of environment and pace to break free, and trail riding offers that change. It is truly amazing how even a two-hour ride can change the face of the day. What we thought was so important becomes small change. Clinical studies have shown that being in the vicinity of a horse changes brain wave patterns. There is a proven calming effect that helps us stop becoming fixed on the past or the negative. If you are a trail rider you already know that road apples are chicken soup for the soul.
Literally hundreds of organizations exist worldwide who’s goal it is to bring people and horses together for the benefit thereof. Equine assisted therapy, equine facilitated learning (EFL), and equine activity for the disabled are now commonplace and involved fields of study. Interaction with horses has been proven to help people with a variety of disorders including eating disorders (anorexia), ADD, bipolar syndrome, aggressive social interaction, communicating difficulties and withdrawn behavior. Confidence, belief in oneself, and joy, are understandable outcomes when our hands are accepted by a big, bold, proud, and beautiful beast. When the power is beneath us and our simple commands of stop and go and turn are obeyed there is a feeling, a bond and a purpose never before experienced.
Personally, I do not believe we were ever intended to search for some obscure truth, or secrets, to the purpose of life. I believe that just living needs to be enough, and I believe every native of every nation born true to the earth beneath them and the skies above understand that all they can hope for is contentment, some degree of harmony between themselves, their surroundings, and those around them - belonging.
Trail riding and a life in the wilderness has kept me at odds with a goal driven society and it appears to me that many of the dreams we are told to follow inevitably serve questionable ends. The joy of trail riding is deeper than all of that, it cuts to the chase. Hitting the trail is like being born again, every time all over again. A babe needs touch, warmth, love, food, a healthy environment, all the things we experience on the trail. Simple, but true.
And do not underestimate the power of touch. Every Chimp and human raised without it becomes a deprived and depraved monkey or person. There is nothing wrong with walking into a horse’s space and providing all the loving touch you want. It is good for both of you (provided the horse is a willing partner). Though I have not come out of the closet yet when it comes to horse hugs. I give rubs and pats and scratches out in the open, but make sure no one is looking when it gives a hug, and only do it with a horse I truly like and who has earned my respect. I would no sooner give my hugs to any horse on the trail then I would to any woman on the street; they must know me and like me too.
The joys we experience from trail riding go beyond what we enjoy from the country and the horse. Trail riders are often special people. Maybe its trail riders and maybe it’s what becomes of us while we are on the trail, but our character really shows, and I believe in character. The chains of civilization slide off as we wind down the trail, as well as inhibitions. We relax in the great outdoors, we enjoy campfires and company in ways that we never could in towns and cities. People, new friends, have said things to me after knowing them for a few days that even their favorite sister-in-law would not be privy too. Being considerate to one another lives on the trail, but being politically correct often does not. And I like it that way. I truly cherish my time with people who, in their new reality, peel of the layers and reveal character, for better or worse, usually better, spiced, black, blue, red - color is a breath of fresh air in our fear ridden society.
Do you remember the first time that you kissed a girl (boy). Is it a clear memory? Mine is vague and murky. I remember that she was a couple of years older than me and experienced, so said the neighbor boy, he who also said it was about time that I kissed a girl and that there was no better place and time then right now, in the fading summer light behind the swings in the community playground. Well, it looked to me like the adults on T.V. gained pleasure from the act as they sucked on each other’s mouth, so it stood to reason that the harder one sucked the more pleasure was to be gained. Big mistake. I sucked hard and all I got was a mouth full of a questionable person’s slobber. Gross. No joy at all. Now think to the first time you sat on a horse. I bet the memory is as clear as a bell.
The old man came down the street with the furry little paint pony. He would stop when beckoned, sit a beaming kid on the back of the pony and take a picture, which would at some later date be sent to the family. The horse munching on lawn grass.
My brother and I flew into our house screaming joyful demands upon mom until she gave in and gave us the fifty cents each (this was a long time ago!). My brother was bigger and older and went first. I vibrated with anticipation and jealousy, and if he had taken another ten seconds of my time that I had coming, I would have ripped him off the horse and gouged out his eyes. The old man could not get me off the horse. When the pony walked away it pulled me with him, forever. For the rest of my young life I had the inexplicable urge to jump on any strange horse I saw, in any place at all, and did so many times, culminating with a few bareback stints at the rodeo. I bet if that old man knew what he started he would smile in his grave.
You do not have to put so many words to the joy that you get from trail riding. Maybe this really is one of those times when we can say ‘if it feels good, do it.’ And not have the law or a guilty conscience after us. If your life with horses is about competing, dominated by concerns of dressing you and the horse to the nines, and having the perfect horse who moves the perfect way, then maybe joy and contentment is not the goal. But it is one worth pursuing, and it is a direction, a belief, in horses and life, that is rewarding, positive, healthy, and undeniably good to the last breath.

When you are closer to heaven you just naturally lose what is not heaven – the chains and stink of civilization, the stress, worries, the value of yourself as being what others think of you.

Studies have shown that when we are with horses our brain wave patterns change – our mind calms and we stop being fixated on the negative or the past.

You know how many of these riders have either family issues or money issues or health issues or work issues – all of them. You know how many are thinking about them at this moment? That’s right - none of them.