DAY 6 - ADVENTURES IN RIDING

I think it may have been a premonition. But we were late getting to our scheduled trail ride at Rolling Boulders near Big Timber, Montana. (Did I mention it is at the foot of the Crazy Mountains? Somehow, in retrospect, it almost seems fitting.)

Not only did ol’ Bessie the Envoy’s gas gauge hit the e-mark when we rolled onto the ranch (20 miles from the nearest gas station-first sign that we city slickers didn’t belong there) but we all had to pee as well, delaying us another 15 minutes or so. After brief negotiations for the use/sale of ranch gas and a trip to the main house, we were sitting on our horses and ready to go at 10 am (We were scheduled to ride out at 9:30 am).

This is where the fun started. Of the 7 of us, only one adult (Marta) and the youngest boys had ridden before. The other 4 of us were not experienced riders, and my daughter was apparently not over her fear of horses. As she shook and teared-up in her saddle, the trail leader carefully led my daughters' horse and we headed out.

After just going a few hundred yards through the gate and into an open field, it was clear that it wasn’t going to work. My daughter wanted to go back, and the trail leader agreed, and turned their two horses back. Immediately, my horse and two of the others turned as well…because, well, they were trained to follow the lead horse. As much as I tried to convince mine to turn, he was determined to follow the others.

As we continued to fight with the horses and get them turned in the right direction, a family of mustangs came galloping by. This apparently looked like fun to the horse one of my nephews was on, and before we knew it his horse was galloping too! And before you could say “whoa nellie”…he had jumped off the horse! (This would later be described as "PULLING A JENNIE" by my nephew DJ!)

Now, the trail leader was a bit annoyed. The poor woman was truly not prepared for all of us “dudes”. She had a couple of younger riders (there for another ride later in the day) give chase to the horse, and Marta went off to rescue my nephew’s dignity. The rest of us were instructed to dismount by the leader, as she couldn’t hold the reigns of everyone’s horses. It took another few minutes to gather everyone back together and regroup our horses.

Once the trail leader had everyone turned in the right direction, Marta headed out with the remaining riders. An hour later, back in the car, we all could only laugh at what will be a story told over a beer or by the campfire for many months to come.

They'll call it: "City Slickers: The Crazy Mountain Story". (I hope I get some $$$ for this idea! ;-0 )