Horsey adventures

I was back on a horse again today, a wonderfully smooth-gaited Tennesse Walking named Thunder, at a property owned by friends of my aunt and uncle. Their daughter, Greeta, took me out for a few hours and we chatted about growing up in rural BC as horsey girls, she in the Okanagan Valley and me on Vancouver Island. Seems the culture was much the same with both of us owning green (read: untrained and therefore cheap) horses which we spent a lot of time and effort training up for the show circuit ourselves. We'd both resented the spoiled girls of wealthy parents who competed against us on their $15,000 professionally trained, 'push-button' horses.

Only a couple years older than me, Greeta has been able to stick with regular riding longer than I could and has built a career of sorts around it. She now teaches kids with disabilities at the local theraputic riding centre and guides trail rides on her dad's property in the summer, mending fences and looking after the horses as well. I can't help but be quite a bit envious.

I drove back to Vernon beside field after field of yellow, purple and white wildflowers that framed a glassy lake (Swan Lake) and the odd delapitated shed or barn. Tonight I'll ease my only slightly sore muscles and butt in my aunt and uncle's hot tub. I think I'll take up Greeta's suggestion of buying a sheepshkin to cushion my saddle with. Otherwise, spending 7 days riding the backcountry in Banff next week will leave me seriously sore.