by Laura Crum
I have to admit, up until last fall I would have said that I hadn’t ridden bareback in twenty years and probably never would again. In my early thirties I was very focused on competition, first at cutting, then at team roping, and I rode to train for my events. I seldom/never climbed on my horses bareback, though I had ridden bareback a great deal as a teenager (didn’t we all do that). I took a break from riding in my early forties to have a baby, and when I began riding again, it was always in a saddle, with my child in front of me. Then I ponied my child on his pony, and eventually, gave him a “lead” on my solid little trail horse—always in a saddle. Riding bareback never crossed my mind. I felt secure in a saddle. If you’d asked me, I would have said that I probably couldn’t stay on bareback any more.
I’m not sure what happened. Maybe it was reading horse blogs. Maybe it was that my best girl friend and I (who had both given up training and competing) were talking a lot about the small pleasures we were now enjoying so much with our horses, since the constant pressure and stress of training to compete were removed. These things had always been available to us—we just never noticed them much. We were too busy. Always in a hurry, always trying to get something done. Now we had time to pay attention.
She talked of how sweet it is just to stroke a horse’s muzzle, and we both waxed lyrical about sitting in the barn listening to horses munch their hay. We admitted to each other how much we enjoyed the feeling that we didn’t need to ride unless we wanted to, and how some days we took great pleasure in simply getting our horses out to graze. The feeling of relaxation and spaciousness around our horses was endlessly gratifying. We were free to enjoy the small things. And we both love trail riding now, especially alone. (And yes we go together sometimes, too—but there is nothing quite like being alone with your trusted horse in the wild woods, or on a lonely beach.)
I’m not sure what exactly brought the urge to ride bareback into my head, but somehow connecting with these simple horsy pleasures reminded me of how much I had loved the feeling of riding bareback when I was young. So one day last fall, when I wasn’t feeling particularly ambitious, I put the bridle on my yellow horse and climbed on him bareback.
Sunny has a broad flat back and is very comfortable to sit on. I rode him for awhile, and managed a trot and a lope, though he’s pretty rough gaited, so mostly I walked. It was fun. But I still didn’t really make the connection.
This last month, however, it has really been too wet to ride much. We had two straight weeks of heavy rain and sporadic rain ever since. My riding ring has wet mucky spots and the trails are wet and slick. The horses are hairy and muddy and the impulse to ride just isn’t there. All my horses have plenty of room to run and most of them do. My son’s older horse, Henry, is pretty sedate, however, and he doesn’t move much. And, as I wrote about awhile ago, Henry eventually colicked (exactly one year after the colic that led to surgery—see my post “A Strange Story”). Since then, I have tried to get Henry out every day for exercise and grazing.
The exercise is just walking, because of the footing, and I got tired of hand walking Henry. Despite the fact that I haven’t climbed on a horse bareback in years (my husband legged me up on Sunny), I decided now was the time. Henry is only 14.3. How hard could it be?
Well, I had to get Henry pretty thoroughly downhill from me, but I did it. (I was pretty proud of myself.) So, for the last little while, I’ve been riding Henry bareback in a halter, at the walk and slow jog, to give him some exercise. And guess what? This is a real pleasure.
Sitting on his warm red back, in the spring sunshine, with the green grass all around us, going nowhere fast, I can completely relax. I can close my eyes, or I can daydream. Henry is bombproof. It feels so nice.
The sensation of completely relaxing on a horse is very novel for me. I have ridden young horses for so long that the habit of always paying attention is very ingrained. Even on Sunny, I pay attention. Sunny is a stong willed critter, though perfectly safe. But Henry is a babysitter. It is so much fun to ride him and be completely at ease.
I know wouldn’t have this pleasure if I didn’t own a completely reliable horse, so I’m grateful to Henry, not just for what he’s given to my child, but also for this unique opportunity. It’s a feeling I remember from my youth, riding my uncle’s gentle horses, lying down on their bare backs, sitting sideways, just relaxing, virtually taking a nap on a horse. I haven’t done this in so many years and now I’m doing it again. How cool is that? What a pleasure.
Anyway, I was wondering if this would resonate for any of you. Any simple small things you take pleasure in with your horses—that maybe you didn’t always notice? Do you ride bareback in a halter, too? For some reason it came into my head that the halter is part of it. If you go to the trouble of bridling the horse, then you’re having a formal “ride”. But somehow climbing on bareback with a halter is different. A return to a simpler world, perhaps? Any thoughts on this?