Riding in the wind

God, that was a tough day. But you know what? It was a good one... Because I have done all I had planned for my day and feel free . Or presque (nearly)...

And my body seems to agree with the next plan.

Find a ride.

I have been to Sant Fe then Albuquerque today, and I have driven through such gorgeous lands I can not stop thinking 

oh, My God, please, I want to ride again, here.

The view, the land, the wind. I want to feel all that on a horse , his skin shivering with my touch while we watch the sun get down far behind the mountains

I have some wonderful souvenirs of rides in the rest of the world. In Tunisia where I fell in love with an Arab horse and even tried to buy him and get him back to France (a bit too exoensive and the owner was not selling) in Egypt near the Nile, in Switzerland, Germany, Marrocco 

Each country who his own way to approach and manage the horse. Not always really the best, even in Germany, by the way... Anyhow.

My best souvenir is once again in Mongolia, 20 years ago. I was with a group there for it was impossible then to travel on your own, even gas was difficult to find, and I took a month trip with a trip agency specialized in adventures : we travelled in an old Ussr Army bus, slept in tents, and took a long trip all around the country, including le desert de Gobi.

But riding was not on the menu of the trip, and the other travelers were pretty taken aback when I started to ask who would come with me and ask one of the families we met during our trip to ride with them in the steppe.

I ended up alone in the project, for none of my fellow tourists - even those who bragged  at the airport the first day about how they loved Mongolia "because of the horses" - dared to ride there..

So I asked for our drivers help,

And he found me a family ready to rent me a horse and take me for the evening ride, when they run through the steppe to find the horses they have left wander freely durin the day , gather them, bring them back to the yourt , and milk the mare (mare milk is the main source of food for the nomads of the plains, with some sheep meat)

I was told afterwards by the guide - who was not there when the driver found me the ride- that I had in fact been the subject of a bet : the family was pretty sure I would not stay on board for more than 5 minute and would beg to come back rapidly, and had taken a bet with the driver (who knew me, and had a better idea of my ... Spirit - and yes some would probably say stubbornness) 

The fact is I got a very small horse, and a terrible saddle, made of wood with metal nails to "decorate" it, which were just as comfortable as what I imagine from the middle age tools of torture we so

Me times see in museums

But I was too willing to go to even care...

I had no idea on how the horses were taught to react there (do you trott like in Germany on the right shoulder, with your hands downs,  or do you just keep the mane and pray once the starter button is pressed ?)

But it was too much fun to hesitate , I just went.

And it s one of the best souvenir of my life. I was a bit afraid to go fast, forI had been warned that the local prairie dogs, (who are here much larger than the "petite" model I have seen here) had the habit to dig holes difficult to see where the horse sometimes stumbled.

But I was left with no choice and just found myself running wild through the steppe, with the mane in the face and the wind blowing in my ears

While the horse was doing his job (where are the guys ? Let's go) without paying much attention to the tourist on his back.

I admit I have thought once or twice to ask for a pair of roller for my feet, for the horse was really small and in his fury to run, I sometimes felt my feet nearly touch the ground.

But god, I had so much fun...

And when I came back, one of my fellow traveller took this photo I just love, for it shows what I loved in this trip : my pure joy with this land and horses 

And it's this photo that makes me think the story of the bet was probably true, for the guys joy, if you can zoom in you ll see,  is much, much less evident than mine. They are really making a long face and are pretty stunned.

And that night, the driver cooked for me a whole pot of prairie dogs with herbs (yes, I have to admit it was good), feeling me it was a gift for me because "I had done "ot so bad for a woman, and a tourist", and everybody around came to sing and play music around he fire.

My driver was so happy...

 I am ready to bet today that I had also made him make some money :-)

I won't be as daring today,

I want a sure horse and a good saddle, God, please, and no fury.

But, God, please, give me a ride here..

(And a washing machine because the rv camp has no laundry and I am left without a clean pant - but that is secondary - horse first please !)