peaceful (even with bikes)

Major had all week off, not because of too much effort at the ride, but my schedule was just packed. So Friday evening we headed out.

Saddle fitter is coming, so I wanted to ride with a white sheet beneath my saddle pad to see any pressure points. To do this you also need to get the horse sweaty. So I'd planned on just jaunting around the forest for awhile.

But when we headed out Major was happy to be out, I was happy to be out, and we just flew along. He was listening and striding out, and we cantered the trotting trail and kept heading towards Granite Bay.

Awhile ago I noted Granite Bay used to be a day trip, last time it took about an hour. This time it took 42 minutes, and we were careful as usual in the rocky portions!

I was worried about turning for home, since Major was already in a speedy mindset. But no problem, we left trotting along. We walk as we cross the gravel road at Twin Rocks, and look both ways, usually lots of bikes in the area. And I heard some coming towards me down Center Trail, which is no bikes allowed. I yelled "horse" to hopefully slow them down, but some rocks did the job for me!

The front rider just bit it, and was laying on the ground holding his crotch. The other two bikes stopped. I asked if he was OK, which was confirmed, then Major (and I) just watched with amusement. The guy asked if his bike was OK! I guess like us asking about our horses. Waited till he got up, then squeezed past, and kept heading home.

(As a side note: Why do "boy" bikes have the straight bar between seat and handlebars?"Girl" bikes don't, but seriously, NO ONE wants to land on that!)

The trail is super lush right now, and the last time through is still a bit of a blur. So I appreciated all the flowers. There is one awesome tree I've forgotten the name of, but it is covered in white blossoms that glow in the twilight.


And we were accompanied by haunting flute music. Someone was standing on the lakeshore, with the clear water reflecting sunset and shadowy trees, playing a Native American flute. We stopped to listen at an overlook, the person was below us, across the inlet. I don't know what the song was, or what it meant, but it was serene and spoke of water and day's end and peacefulness. We moved on, reluctantly.


And Major was good all the way home. We would trot, and if he got too strong I'd ask him to walk until we had a true walk, no jigging. Maybe he was peaceful too. At home dinner had already been served, but he got a bath first. He was head tossing and silly as I walked him to the pasture, I thought for sure he'd run off and roll. But he was so excited to eat his mash, he just trotted over to dinner. I watched my glistening horse, and remembered the music, and realized how lucky I am.