So I had my first horseriding experience in the pouring snow yesterday and it was something else. One one hand, it was surreal because the snow had turned the place into a virtual ghost town, everything was white and I was rding bareback with just a sheepskin blanket to prevent the icicles on the horse´s fur from freezing my ass off.
On the other hand... the sensation of the ice-cold snow cutting into my face meant that at one point I could barely move my mouth to talk to G´s daughter L, I had stupidly forgotten to wear another layer under my jodphurs so my legs were also now frozen and my horse June couldn´t keep up with the Icelandic ponies´ brisk walk so we were constantly jogging - not a good idea given the fluffy sweet-as-pie snow actually masked a layer of slippery ice underneath. So we fell. Numerous times. Once to the knees. I stayed on but every fall made the young one even more nervous so that was a great feeling. Imagine the horse bolting into pure whiteness, no idea what´s underneath... eek.
Anyway, I am glad I did but I am not rushing out to do it every day - at least next time I will wear more clothes on the bottom half. I already look like a sumo wrestler up top. But fuck it, I´d rather have a fat suit on than freeze my tits off. Those things are valuable ;)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment