We went horseback riding this morning. Not, let's trot around the ring on a pony riding, no, ungroomed trails through the woods of Ushuaia riding. On a horse named Satan. Damn! WTF, mate? Oops, sorry, no Aussies around anymore. But really, who would name their horse Satan? And then let me ride it? Obviously, they do not realize I am afraid of life. (Yes, I have come to this conclusion. I am afraid of life. All my photos seems to have me looking terrified. And cold.)
Well, Satan decided he didn't like me. Or was just tired. I don't know. But he sat down. With me still on him. He sat down and proceeded to rolled over. I could have been crushed. So they gave me a different horse. A stubborn horse. Thought I was grateful he trotted fairly slowly. By the end, I was feeling much better. Still nervous, but not as much.
Then we arrive back at the ranch and kids are running around getting ready for their riding lessons. And here's 20-year-old me flipping out. Ah. I have so much more respect and admiration for the equestrian team, mounted patrol, and equine science majors.
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