I was finally able to get back out on the trails this past weekend. It was mighty cold here in SW MO. We had a low of 24 degrees overnight. Brrrr.
Saturday's ride was very pleasant. Our typical 5 mile loop along the ledges and through the woods. I used my new saddle and it was very comfy.
Sunday I was taught a lesson. More likely, I proved someone wrong.
I decided to ride bareback using my bareback pad and breast collar. From a warmth standpoint, I was comfy cozy. My barn owner, however, is slightly (and silently) against bareback riding on the trails. My riding buddy, a fellow bareback rider, warned me that when she rode bareback the first time he took er up every steep hill and down into every treacherous valley he could find to prove his point. Didn't work.
So, while I hoped he would go easy on me, I expected the worse. From my inserted map, I can assure you, he didn't go easy on me. The red line covers some areas of the trail I have never been to before. Also, 7 miles is the FURTHEST he has ever gone on a ride with me and my riding buddy.
I did very well with the ups and down, barely sliding at all. Going up one hill, I hit the top and called out for them to hold up. I was completely laying flat along Sam. We ended up going down the other side of the hill and I swore I stopped from sliding off Sam's head only because his ear was in the way.
The 2nd big hill we climbed I did slide again. This time, as we hit the top we had to bend around a pine tree. As Sam bent his body, my outside leg started to slip so I chose to bail. I flung my leg over and landed on both feet. Julie and I caught each other's eyes. The next thing I know I am down, bonking my head on a piece of the tree, hooves everywhere. I remembered to let go of the rein, Sam scooted out of the way and I jumped up.
I was quick to say I was alright. And I was. I was laughing. I had no idea how I fell. I think I was balancing on the horse and when he stepped away I bought the farm. As I walked over to him, I kept repeating, "I am okay." My barn owner replied, "You may be, but your jeans took a beating!"
Sure enough. I had a six inch rip in my jeans. These were brand new Wranger Q-Baby jeans! Upon closer inspection, I found a skinned knee in two places.
I don't know what to call this. A failed execution of a planned dismount? Wobbly legs from riding 4 miles? A lack of grace?
Oh well. It makes a fun story. Had I stayed upright, I would have had serious bragging rights.