I do a lot of backcountry riding far from groomed trails, exploring new-to-me country and difficult terrain, and “I just want to see what’s on the other side of that ridge”. That leads to many an unexpected adventure.
I’m also not, not even in the least little bit, a fearless rider, or a fearless person for that matter. Quite to the contrary. I’ve just learned – and am very much still learning – when to face my fears and reason my way through them, and when to listen to them and adjust what I’m doing. In life, on the trail and in the gentling pen.
We often talk about how horses can’t learn when they’re pushed so far out of their comfort zone that they are in survival mode (fight, flight or freeze). It’s not much different for humans.
I know that when I reach a certain point of discomfort, I become a liability to my horse and myself (and to others… don’t approach, will snap). I either freeze, tighten the reins too much or get angry. Neither of them are helpful and all can be dangerous in rough country.
So if things get too weird, I’m quick to get off my horse. Even if the horse could handle it. Yes, some might say that’s not safe either. Well, neither is getting in my horse’s way and getting all of us hurt or ruining their trust in me. I’ve sent my horses up and down steep terrain alone, in front, behind or beside me. We’re all still alive, stayed safe and were better off for the dismount.
This is not a clear-cut, black-and-white matter that’s the same for everyone. It’s not the same from year to year or horse to horse. I do things now that I wouldn’t have dreamed of taking on 5 years ago. I do things with Lacy that I wouldn’t do with Blanca. And vice versa. Same with Tiny. I imagine 5 years from now it’ll be entirely different again.
They all have different strengths and capabilities, both physically and mentally. Those also change and evolve as we grow together, they mature and then again as they age and need to take it a little easier.
There’s a lot of middle ground between living in a bubble and being reckless. Growth does happen at the edge of our comfort zone, no matter how big or small that comfort zone currently is. We owe it to ourselves and our horses to listen to ourselves and them, and to proceed accordingly.
You can totally feel like you’re a bit of a wimp and still experience and create epic adventures. I know because that’s what I did, and am still doing. Not by jumping off the cliff with my eyes closed but by putting in the work and one foot in front of the other, over and over, year after year. If I wanted to wait to get out until I’m not afraid, I’d die on my couch and that’s not happening.
Pictures are from this week’s ride (hint: there’s at least one Mustang in EVERY picture 
). I got us in a bind again by thinking that riding down a different draw on the same ridge would be just as manageable as the draw we came up, just a few hundred feet over. Turns out that was flawed logic. The final few hundred feet of our descent involved some creative problem solving and colorful language.
This was not our first rodeo (metaphorically speaking, that is), and parking horses on their own is nothing new for me or them. Tiny has learned to play follow the leader when I turn him loose. It’s very much in line with his personality and he’s incredibly sure-footed. Lacy is no rookie anymore either. She patiently stood in between the rocks, waiting for me to scope things out and find a way down.
The last picture… That’s my I-think-I-can face. Not happy because of the drop off (don’t like those either) but not so far gone that I couldn’t get us through it. It’s a fine line and definitely a case-by-case decision how we get through what we get into out there.
