Yesterday marked the last day of horse camp. That's it: I survived a summer of doing something I'd barely done before, and not only was I successful at it, I learned and I grew in my faith and my trust in God.
It's not over yet, though. I'm going back for one more week, doing cleaning around the campground and getting ready for one more family camp through Labor Day. September 1st marks my last day at camp, and that's when I will be home again.
This week was somewhat frustrating, and not my best week. I started it off on the wrong foot, being tired and expecting a group of high school girls I would bond with and be excited to teach. That's not what I got--they were reticent and unenthusiastic for the first few days. It was a struggle to even get them to respond to "yes or no" questions. I mean, really? It's not like I bite or something. They warmed up toward the end of the week, and we had fun, but it definitely wasn't a high point of the summer.
On the bright side, my etude is essentially memorized now. I have a lot of polish work to do on it, but it's there. I played it at Fancy Dinner Friday (even wore my strapless dress--yessss) and it wasn't perfect, but I got through it. It's helped a lot that most of the practice I've done this summer was in front of other people (all the pianos at camp are in public places). It's desensitized me a lot to that feeling of being watched, and I'm hoping that I will be able to perform even better this fall.
On Saturday we had to work until 4 in the afternoon because of a guest group that wanted trail rides, pony rides, and a hay ride. On top of dealing with that with a small staff (there are only three wranglers and Indy now left of the larger group of ranchies), one of camp's older horses, Anton, colicked badly. Colic happens when a blockage forms in a horse's intestine, causing a backup of food and/or gas in the gut and causing excruciating pain. Colicking horses bite at their sides and try to roll because of the pain in their abdomen, which doesn't help things (rolling can sometimes cause their intestines to twist up and they can't always be untwisted). Walking them out can usually help the blockage to pass, and if the colic is bad enough, a vet will pump oil into their stomach to aid matters as well. We started walking Anton from the time he came up to the ranch from the pasture at 7 am until two in the afternoon. The vet came, gave him oil, and doped him up to dull the pain; but in the hour I walked him from 1-2, he tried to roll numerous times and the painkiller had definitely worn off.
Colic surgeries cost from four to twelve thousand dollars and have only a fifty/fifty chance of recovery. Older horses like Anton, at 26, have even a smaller chance of surviving that. At 2 pm, after calling the vet about Anton's chance of walking out the colic at that point, Indy decided to have him put down. He had been a camp horse for 24 years, one of the best there were.
It was not a high note to end the summer on. But life happens; you have to keep moving on.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Diary of a Wrangler: Week 9
Figured I would post this today instead of this weekend because... I'm going to Seattle! I've never really been, except to go to the Pacific Science Center (need to go again sometime) and to go through on my way to school. We're probably not going to do much up there except hang out in a coffee shop or two (it's Seattle--how couldn't I?) and chill at some friends' houses, but I'm looking forward to it nonetheless. A change from the ordinary is in order.
These last few days have been hot. We're talking upper 90's since Wednesday, and today and tomorrow were/will be in the 100's. Several of the horses got dehydrated (if they don't drink enough when it gets this hot, they don't feel well, and then they don't know to drink, so they get even worse) so we adjusted today's schedule to end an hour earlier than usual. Last night was Frontier Village night (sleeping under the stars) and it was really warm, as well. I stayed up for a while talking to Amp/Amanda (program director at the ranch) about life... frustrations and hopes, relationships (in her case) and would-be relationships (in mine). I also talked to another friend who will be joining the music program at my school in the fall about advising and classes. I don't think she realizes what she's in for as a music minor... I'm wishing her the best of luck with it, but I don't know if it's going to be the right fit for what she wants in her college career.
It made me think about my own seriousness about being a music/English major. When I tell people that's what I'm doing, I feel almost irresponsible. If I wanted to be in a profitable career, I would do something like engineering or teaching (public school) or something likewise that would lead to a nice, reliable paycheck. Instead, I'm doing something that will most likely put me as my own boss, deciding what I'm going to do day-to-day to pay the bills, and that may not always reward me with a proportionate amount of money to the amount of time I put into what I'm doing.
But I love doing what I'm doing right now at school... it's a lot of work, but it's so worth it for me. When I think about playing piano for the rest of my life as much as I do now, I'm not scared at all. I've been trying to get in an hour a day this week for my etude, and I'm thrilled at the progress I'm making--memorization is just flying by and it's exhilarating to think that I was responsible for that. I love making music and the process it takes to get to that point. I definitely feel that this is what I'm meant to do.
Also, I have no idea what else I would do without music. It's like imagining being an orphan. Your parents have been around since before you remember, so you can't comprehend a life without them in it. Piano is the same way for me. What would I be? A soccer player? Who knows.
Anyway. This week of campers has been fantastic. They really like me and I like them even more because of it... they are a fun bunch and they all have great attitudes. One fell off of her horse on Thursday (my first fallen camper of the summer) but was a great sport about it and, though she didn't ride for the rest of that day, she wanted to get back on the horse she fell off of today and ride her again. I was so proud of her. They are rambunctious and adorable and lovable... and they make my job easier. Though it's the end of the summer and I'm starting to feel the drag of week after hot week of standing in an arena teaching riding, this week has lifted my spirits and helped me to feel happier in general. I'm getting along with everyone... I'm laughing... I'm able to look on the bright side and not let myself become weighted down by the little troubles of the day.
Everyone got paid today and it struck me that I'll only have one paycheck left before the end of the summer. I clearly remember looking at my calendar in June and thinking that two and a half months were going to be the longest months of my life, that the weeks couldn't pass fast enough to get me back to school and back to my piano, my friends, my writing and being productive. Now it's almost over and I don't regret a thing; the lessons I've learned, friends I've made and re-made.... I can trust in ways I couldn't at the beginning of the summer, and I am incredibly empowered by that. No matter what happens at school this year, I will take that with me and remember it in the long, gloomy winter weeks when God seems far away and school seems overwhelming.
Next week: high school camp!
These last few days have been hot. We're talking upper 90's since Wednesday, and today and tomorrow were/will be in the 100's. Several of the horses got dehydrated (if they don't drink enough when it gets this hot, they don't feel well, and then they don't know to drink, so they get even worse) so we adjusted today's schedule to end an hour earlier than usual. Last night was Frontier Village night (sleeping under the stars) and it was really warm, as well. I stayed up for a while talking to Amp/Amanda (program director at the ranch) about life... frustrations and hopes, relationships (in her case) and would-be relationships (in mine). I also talked to another friend who will be joining the music program at my school in the fall about advising and classes. I don't think she realizes what she's in for as a music minor... I'm wishing her the best of luck with it, but I don't know if it's going to be the right fit for what she wants in her college career.
It made me think about my own seriousness about being a music/English major. When I tell people that's what I'm doing, I feel almost irresponsible. If I wanted to be in a profitable career, I would do something like engineering or teaching (public school) or something likewise that would lead to a nice, reliable paycheck. Instead, I'm doing something that will most likely put me as my own boss, deciding what I'm going to do day-to-day to pay the bills, and that may not always reward me with a proportionate amount of money to the amount of time I put into what I'm doing.
But I love doing what I'm doing right now at school... it's a lot of work, but it's so worth it for me. When I think about playing piano for the rest of my life as much as I do now, I'm not scared at all. I've been trying to get in an hour a day this week for my etude, and I'm thrilled at the progress I'm making--memorization is just flying by and it's exhilarating to think that I was responsible for that. I love making music and the process it takes to get to that point. I definitely feel that this is what I'm meant to do.
Also, I have no idea what else I would do without music. It's like imagining being an orphan. Your parents have been around since before you remember, so you can't comprehend a life without them in it. Piano is the same way for me. What would I be? A soccer player? Who knows.
Anyway. This week of campers has been fantastic. They really like me and I like them even more because of it... they are a fun bunch and they all have great attitudes. One fell off of her horse on Thursday (my first fallen camper of the summer) but was a great sport about it and, though she didn't ride for the rest of that day, she wanted to get back on the horse she fell off of today and ride her again. I was so proud of her. They are rambunctious and adorable and lovable... and they make my job easier. Though it's the end of the summer and I'm starting to feel the drag of week after hot week of standing in an arena teaching riding, this week has lifted my spirits and helped me to feel happier in general. I'm getting along with everyone... I'm laughing... I'm able to look on the bright side and not let myself become weighted down by the little troubles of the day.
Everyone got paid today and it struck me that I'll only have one paycheck left before the end of the summer. I clearly remember looking at my calendar in June and thinking that two and a half months were going to be the longest months of my life, that the weeks couldn't pass fast enough to get me back to school and back to my piano, my friends, my writing and being productive. Now it's almost over and I don't regret a thing; the lessons I've learned, friends I've made and re-made.... I can trust in ways I couldn't at the beginning of the summer, and I am incredibly empowered by that. No matter what happens at school this year, I will take that with me and remember it in the long, gloomy winter weeks when God seems far away and school seems overwhelming.
Next week: high school camp!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Diary of a Wrangler: Week 8
This week was long... hot... wet... cold... frustrating at times... tiring toward the end because I got a cold on Thursday.... and sad at the end because Cue Ball, one of the wranglers, left to get ready for school yesterday.
I'm still working through the cold, and I just hope that I will get over it in the next day or two. I despise being sick.
Anyway, we had Discovery kids (4-6th graders) this week... "little babies," as we call them. Their attention span was SO SHORT that barn classes were frustrating and arena classes didn't make a ton of progress... but they did make some, and they did quite a bit of trot work in the arena on Friday. On the plus side, they were quite cuddly, a few in particular. That age group is just adorable and tends to bring out my 'mom' side... heh.
We performed the drill for probably the last time yesterday, since Cue Ball is gone now... we would have to practice it with 6 people instead of 7, and we probably won't have time to do that. I really enjoy doing the drill, and while our last performance of it wasn't top-notch (some of the horses were acting up), at least we didn't have any big collisions or injuries (other than Indy's leg getting banged up). Einer was pokier than ever and refused to go faster than a medium canter even though I carried a crop (like a small whip) and popped him with it enough to get any reasonable horse going faster.
On Thursday we had a free afternoon because guest trail rides were done with for the week, so Indy had us clean sheaths (don't ask... really. don't ask.) which was moderately gross... and then we got to ride the Belgians.
I don't know if I mentioned this before, but Belgians are draft horses, which means that they are large-boned, muscular horses that are very very tall. Pete, the taller of the two, is 18 hands or 72 inches--that's 6 feet--tall from the bottom of his front hoof to the top of his shoulder (or withers). For comparison, the horse I usually ride--Tye--is probably about 15 hands, or 5 feet, tall at the withers. Getting up on the Belgians was interesting (I had to lift my foot to above waist height to reach the stirrup, then hoist myself up from there) but riding them was really really cool--Jay (the one that I rode) has an awesomely smooth trot and canter. Their strides are enormous because of their sheer size, but for whatever reason, instead of having an up-and-down movement to his trot (as in most horses) it was much more side-to-side and really easy to sit.
On Saturday I went to the county fair and visited my family for the afternoon... my sister, brother and friends are all showing animals there (goats, alpacas, and sheep/goats, respectively) so I got to hang out with them for a bit and walk around the fair. I bought a couple pairs of earrings (yes... I have a hard time resisting sparkly stuff, especially when combined with dangly earrings), ate some fair food, petted some animals, viewed some exhibits, and reminisced about the old days when I showed at the fair. In the poultry barn there are usually some posters up with fair photos taken in previous years, and there was one from 2000 with me showing a chicken (I think her name was Penny) at the age of 11. What a nerdy kid I was! Bangs, hair back in a braid (it was pretty long back then too), enormous round glasses, and of course the unflattering show clothes (black jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt). Pretty awkward. I think I'm still awkward now, I just hide it better.
My sister is showing goats for the first time this year, and she won Reserve Grand, with her best friend coming in Grand Champion ahead of her. She was pretty thrilled, considering that she was going up against a lot of more experience showmen--and in the senior class too, which is all high schoolers and they get grilled pretty hard on scoring. She's a talented one for sure...
Just two more weeks of camp left now, and a week of cleaning and then Labor Day camp. Jr High girls again... should be a welcome change from the younger kids.
I'm still working through the cold, and I just hope that I will get over it in the next day or two. I despise being sick.
Anyway, we had Discovery kids (4-6th graders) this week... "little babies," as we call them. Their attention span was SO SHORT that barn classes were frustrating and arena classes didn't make a ton of progress... but they did make some, and they did quite a bit of trot work in the arena on Friday. On the plus side, they were quite cuddly, a few in particular. That age group is just adorable and tends to bring out my 'mom' side... heh.
We performed the drill for probably the last time yesterday, since Cue Ball is gone now... we would have to practice it with 6 people instead of 7, and we probably won't have time to do that. I really enjoy doing the drill, and while our last performance of it wasn't top-notch (some of the horses were acting up), at least we didn't have any big collisions or injuries (other than Indy's leg getting banged up). Einer was pokier than ever and refused to go faster than a medium canter even though I carried a crop (like a small whip) and popped him with it enough to get any reasonable horse going faster.
On Thursday we had a free afternoon because guest trail rides were done with for the week, so Indy had us clean sheaths (don't ask... really. don't ask.) which was moderately gross... and then we got to ride the Belgians.
I don't know if I mentioned this before, but Belgians are draft horses, which means that they are large-boned, muscular horses that are very very tall. Pete, the taller of the two, is 18 hands or 72 inches--that's 6 feet--tall from the bottom of his front hoof to the top of his shoulder (or withers). For comparison, the horse I usually ride--Tye--is probably about 15 hands, or 5 feet, tall at the withers. Getting up on the Belgians was interesting (I had to lift my foot to above waist height to reach the stirrup, then hoist myself up from there) but riding them was really really cool--Jay (the one that I rode) has an awesomely smooth trot and canter. Their strides are enormous because of their sheer size, but for whatever reason, instead of having an up-and-down movement to his trot (as in most horses) it was much more side-to-side and really easy to sit.
On Saturday I went to the county fair and visited my family for the afternoon... my sister, brother and friends are all showing animals there (goats, alpacas, and sheep/goats, respectively) so I got to hang out with them for a bit and walk around the fair. I bought a couple pairs of earrings (yes... I have a hard time resisting sparkly stuff, especially when combined with dangly earrings), ate some fair food, petted some animals, viewed some exhibits, and reminisced about the old days when I showed at the fair. In the poultry barn there are usually some posters up with fair photos taken in previous years, and there was one from 2000 with me showing a chicken (I think her name was Penny) at the age of 11. What a nerdy kid I was! Bangs, hair back in a braid (it was pretty long back then too), enormous round glasses, and of course the unflattering show clothes (black jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt). Pretty awkward. I think I'm still awkward now, I just hide it better.
My sister is showing goats for the first time this year, and she won Reserve Grand, with her best friend coming in Grand Champion ahead of her. She was pretty thrilled, considering that she was going up against a lot of more experience showmen--and in the senior class too, which is all high schoolers and they get grilled pretty hard on scoring. She's a talented one for sure...
Just two more weeks of camp left now, and a week of cleaning and then Labor Day camp. Jr High girls again... should be a welcome change from the younger kids.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Diary of a Wrangler: Weeks 6 and 7
So, I did come home last weekend--but it turned out that I was too tired (read: lazy) to update the blog, so you all (whoever you may be, dear readers) got gypped for a week. But... I'm back now.
These last couple of weeks have been demanding. Our second week of jr. high girls (week 6) weren't nearly as skilled riders as the week before, which made teaching them a little harder. Also, I got pretty beat up--probably got more injuries that week than from the rest of the summer combined. On Tuesday, I was saddling one of the horse and he turned around and bit me unexpectedly... it didn't hurt that much, but it did break the skin through my sweatshirt. On Wednesday I was bridling another horse, who decided to be a jerk and wandered around behind Tye (my wrangler horse) as I was bridling him; Tye kicked at Halo (the horse I was bridling) but hit my knee instead. OUCH. Surprisingly it didn't bruise much, but it did swell up a bit in the area under my kneecap, and the joint popped for 4 or 5 days afterward whenever I walked on it. Then on Thursday, we had some time in the afternoon for an English jumping lesson (as in riding horses over jumps in an English saddle). My knee was still sore so posting (rising up and down in the saddle as your horse trots) was a bit of a chore, but I was kind of looking forward to working on my jumping skills (I'm not too bad at it, but I don't do it often at all so it's good to practice while I can). Balut (our ranch hand and an amazing rider) was teaching us. My horse, Elska, was being a jerk and not going around the corner of the arena like I wanted her to, so I was getting a little jerky with the reins. To solve this problem (with my jerky hands, not my jerky horse) Balut decided it would be a good idea to give me a cup of water to hold in each hand. That way I would hold them still (so as not to splash the water) and have better equitation (posture on a horse) overall... right? Except he failed to tell me that my hands were going all over the place and just said "Stop your horse and take these. We're going to play a game of cups. Now go over the jump."
Well. As soon as we started trotting, the water started sloshing out of my cups (of course). Unless you are used to holding cups on horseback at the trot, and additionally have a superhuman ability to keep your arms/upper body still at the trot (which is very bouncy) you ARE going to have water slosh out of your cups, especially while posting. I'm a pretty good rider, even at English (which I'm not used to), and there wasn't a thing I could do to keep the water in. That wouldn't have been a problem, except that Elska was still being a jerk, wouldn't go around the corner like I wanted her to, and now was zig-zagging all over the place because she wasn't happy about the water splashing on her. I went over the first jump and was supposed to go over the second, but by that point I was frustrated about the cups and knew they were keeping me from having good control of Elska. I dumped out the remaining tiny bit of water that was in them, stacked them together, and handed them back to Balut with a scowl that should have told him not to bother.
He smiled at me, refilled the cups, told me to shorten my reins, and try again.
Cups newly in hand, I kicked Elska around the corner--she went around it this time--and went over the first of the two jumps, water sloshing all the way. However, because my hands were half-full of cups, I couldn't hold the reins very well, which kept me from being able to effectively keep Elska from zig-zagging all over the place between the two jumps, which made me focus more on straightening her out for the second jump with the two fingers that were holding the reins, which kept me from noticing immediately that my balance was getting off. My left stirrup (the thing your foot rests in) broke just as Elska prepared to go over the second jump--went over it--and I was busy holding the cups, holding the reins, and now holding on for dear life as I overcompensated for balance on the right side and started to slip off as Elska hit the ground on the other side of the jump. She took one more stride and I was halfway off, still clutching the reins, and realizing I wasn't going to be able to climb back on at this point. I let go and hit the ground hard, tailbone first. Elska, thankfully, headed the other direction and stayed clear of me.
There was silence in the arena for a few seconds. I rolled over and got to my feet almost immediately, uttering a heavily sarcastic, "There goes Ariat, hitting the ground" and then groaning as I straightened and felt the soreness. Balut was already on his way over and asked if I was alright. "Yes," I replied as grumpily as possible, "I'm fine." The cups were crushed on the sand, and he picked them up and threw them over the fence. I stalked over to Elska and snatched her reins, fixed the broken stirrup (it just had to be reattached to the saddle) and tried to get on a little too fast. The stirrup broke again. Thoroughly pissed now, I attached it one more time, shrugged off Balut's offer to hold the saddle in place so I could get up, and climbed up (this time successfully).
"Are you alright?" he asked again.
"I'm fine," I said crankily. "Just bruised."
"Okay." He patted Elska's neck and continued with the next person to go over the jumps. I went over two or three more rounds of jumps with minimal critique from him and plenty of sympathy from Indy and the other wranglers. I was seething on the inside, angrier than I'd been in a long time. The last time I fell off a horse was two years ago, which I don't really even count because it was an intentional bail (really. There were bees on a trail, lots of trees on either side of the path, I was slipping halfway off of a bucking horse, and if I'd stayed on any longer I would have gotten a nice dose of tree trunk to the face). I wouldn't have fallen off at all that afternoon if I hadn't been dealing with those stupid cups of water. Eventually I opted to leave the arena early while the others continued jumping so that I could do some piano practice before dinner--but also because my bruised tailbone (and pride) needed some rest.
Piano has been an emotional outlet for me for a long time, and that afternoon was no different. I was pounding out my Rachmaninoff etude from earlier this year (Op. 33 in C minor) with probably a little more force than was necessary. A few people had walked through the room, and I suspected someone was in there with me for a while, listening, but I couldn't see them and tuned them out while I played. I was mentally rehearsing how I was going to be furious with Balut for a while and refuse to forgive him, or give him the cold shoulder because he wouldn't apologize, when he walked up and tapped me on the shoulder.
"Ariat?"
"Yes?" My face was perfectly calm.
"I'm sorry for making you fall off today." He pulled up a chair and sat down next to my bench, completely serious.
I took a deep breath. Every last notion of being angry with him disintegrated. "It's okay," I said. "I'm fine. I'll be okay."
"Really? You're not going to hate me forever?"
"Yeah."
We talked for a little while longer about what had happened; he admitted that the cups were probably too much at once for me to handle, his own experience with them when he had been taking jumping lessons, how he used to ride a horse that would dump him off about every day. He asked if I was willing to jump again. "Yes," I told him. "But probably not on Elska," he suggested. I agreed.
So we are okay now, which is great. Balut is a really cool guy and I'm glad we get along.
Week 7 (middlers--5-7th graders, and all girls again) went better on the bumps-and-bruises front, but was exhausting because we had guest group trail rides every afternoon, which took out most of our free time. As a compensation for that, Indy let each wrangler have a whole afternoon off for one day of the week. I spent almost two hours of my afternoon on piano practice, which felt awesome.
I taught the 1's, which was challenging because most of them had never ridden a horse before, but also really rewarding because of how much they improved over the week. They went from making amoeba-shaped "circles" with their horses on the first day, to trotting as a group (however briefly) with good balance on the last day. A couple of them also got the concept of posting down, which was really cool to see, and as a group their confidence improved immensely.
It also rained for several days of the week, which was a welcome break from the heat but unwelcome on Thursday night, which is when everyone goes out to Frontier Village (a campsite in the woods where the kids get to sleep in tipis overnight). It rained all night and was pretty cold, but still somehow heavy on mosquitos. We had half-frozen Uncrustables instead of s'mores, and a wet morning as we got the horses ready for the trailride back to the ranch on Friday morning. I don't mind the rain that much, but more sunshine would be amazing this week. I've got my fingers crossed.
Heading into week 8, we've got Discovery kids again... the little ones... but more SALTs (6 of them) plus a couple of guys who used to be SALTs and are coming out to help this week--an added blessing because we're going to have a cabin of 10 boys, the most we've had all summer. I'm looking forward to it; a fresh start, a new chance to start the week off right, a new set of kids to bond with and teach.
It's still crazy to me that it's August already. Really? Less than two months before I head back to school, and if I was in school, we would be gearing up for finals right now. I've got mixed feelings about my etude. It's getting better with every practice session, but I'm going to start memorizing now and try to have it memorized by the end of this month (a month before I'll have to play it, exactly like I try to do it for juries). I have faith that God will make it work out. The etude was my main conflict with camp, but I came to camp anyway, so it seems inevitable that the etude will come along too.
Yes, "overachiever" is my middle name. That's the way I roll, folks.
These last couple of weeks have been demanding. Our second week of jr. high girls (week 6) weren't nearly as skilled riders as the week before, which made teaching them a little harder. Also, I got pretty beat up--probably got more injuries that week than from the rest of the summer combined. On Tuesday, I was saddling one of the horse and he turned around and bit me unexpectedly... it didn't hurt that much, but it did break the skin through my sweatshirt. On Wednesday I was bridling another horse, who decided to be a jerk and wandered around behind Tye (my wrangler horse) as I was bridling him; Tye kicked at Halo (the horse I was bridling) but hit my knee instead. OUCH. Surprisingly it didn't bruise much, but it did swell up a bit in the area under my kneecap, and the joint popped for 4 or 5 days afterward whenever I walked on it. Then on Thursday, we had some time in the afternoon for an English jumping lesson (as in riding horses over jumps in an English saddle). My knee was still sore so posting (rising up and down in the saddle as your horse trots) was a bit of a chore, but I was kind of looking forward to working on my jumping skills (I'm not too bad at it, but I don't do it often at all so it's good to practice while I can). Balut (our ranch hand and an amazing rider) was teaching us. My horse, Elska, was being a jerk and not going around the corner of the arena like I wanted her to, so I was getting a little jerky with the reins. To solve this problem (with my jerky hands, not my jerky horse) Balut decided it would be a good idea to give me a cup of water to hold in each hand. That way I would hold them still (so as not to splash the water) and have better equitation (posture on a horse) overall... right? Except he failed to tell me that my hands were going all over the place and just said "Stop your horse and take these. We're going to play a game of cups. Now go over the jump."
Well. As soon as we started trotting, the water started sloshing out of my cups (of course). Unless you are used to holding cups on horseback at the trot, and additionally have a superhuman ability to keep your arms/upper body still at the trot (which is very bouncy) you ARE going to have water slosh out of your cups, especially while posting. I'm a pretty good rider, even at English (which I'm not used to), and there wasn't a thing I could do to keep the water in. That wouldn't have been a problem, except that Elska was still being a jerk, wouldn't go around the corner like I wanted her to, and now was zig-zagging all over the place because she wasn't happy about the water splashing on her. I went over the first jump and was supposed to go over the second, but by that point I was frustrated about the cups and knew they were keeping me from having good control of Elska. I dumped out the remaining tiny bit of water that was in them, stacked them together, and handed them back to Balut with a scowl that should have told him not to bother.
He smiled at me, refilled the cups, told me to shorten my reins, and try again.
Cups newly in hand, I kicked Elska around the corner--she went around it this time--and went over the first of the two jumps, water sloshing all the way. However, because my hands were half-full of cups, I couldn't hold the reins very well, which kept me from being able to effectively keep Elska from zig-zagging all over the place between the two jumps, which made me focus more on straightening her out for the second jump with the two fingers that were holding the reins, which kept me from noticing immediately that my balance was getting off. My left stirrup (the thing your foot rests in) broke just as Elska prepared to go over the second jump--went over it--and I was busy holding the cups, holding the reins, and now holding on for dear life as I overcompensated for balance on the right side and started to slip off as Elska hit the ground on the other side of the jump. She took one more stride and I was halfway off, still clutching the reins, and realizing I wasn't going to be able to climb back on at this point. I let go and hit the ground hard, tailbone first. Elska, thankfully, headed the other direction and stayed clear of me.
There was silence in the arena for a few seconds. I rolled over and got to my feet almost immediately, uttering a heavily sarcastic, "There goes Ariat, hitting the ground" and then groaning as I straightened and felt the soreness. Balut was already on his way over and asked if I was alright. "Yes," I replied as grumpily as possible, "I'm fine." The cups were crushed on the sand, and he picked them up and threw them over the fence. I stalked over to Elska and snatched her reins, fixed the broken stirrup (it just had to be reattached to the saddle) and tried to get on a little too fast. The stirrup broke again. Thoroughly pissed now, I attached it one more time, shrugged off Balut's offer to hold the saddle in place so I could get up, and climbed up (this time successfully).
"Are you alright?" he asked again.
"I'm fine," I said crankily. "Just bruised."
"Okay." He patted Elska's neck and continued with the next person to go over the jumps. I went over two or three more rounds of jumps with minimal critique from him and plenty of sympathy from Indy and the other wranglers. I was seething on the inside, angrier than I'd been in a long time. The last time I fell off a horse was two years ago, which I don't really even count because it was an intentional bail (really. There were bees on a trail, lots of trees on either side of the path, I was slipping halfway off of a bucking horse, and if I'd stayed on any longer I would have gotten a nice dose of tree trunk to the face). I wouldn't have fallen off at all that afternoon if I hadn't been dealing with those stupid cups of water. Eventually I opted to leave the arena early while the others continued jumping so that I could do some piano practice before dinner--but also because my bruised tailbone (and pride) needed some rest.
Piano has been an emotional outlet for me for a long time, and that afternoon was no different. I was pounding out my Rachmaninoff etude from earlier this year (Op. 33 in C minor) with probably a little more force than was necessary. A few people had walked through the room, and I suspected someone was in there with me for a while, listening, but I couldn't see them and tuned them out while I played. I was mentally rehearsing how I was going to be furious with Balut for a while and refuse to forgive him, or give him the cold shoulder because he wouldn't apologize, when he walked up and tapped me on the shoulder.
"Ariat?"
"Yes?" My face was perfectly calm.
"I'm sorry for making you fall off today." He pulled up a chair and sat down next to my bench, completely serious.
I took a deep breath. Every last notion of being angry with him disintegrated. "It's okay," I said. "I'm fine. I'll be okay."
"Really? You're not going to hate me forever?"
"Yeah."
We talked for a little while longer about what had happened; he admitted that the cups were probably too much at once for me to handle, his own experience with them when he had been taking jumping lessons, how he used to ride a horse that would dump him off about every day. He asked if I was willing to jump again. "Yes," I told him. "But probably not on Elska," he suggested. I agreed.
So we are okay now, which is great. Balut is a really cool guy and I'm glad we get along.
Week 7 (middlers--5-7th graders, and all girls again) went better on the bumps-and-bruises front, but was exhausting because we had guest group trail rides every afternoon, which took out most of our free time. As a compensation for that, Indy let each wrangler have a whole afternoon off for one day of the week. I spent almost two hours of my afternoon on piano practice, which felt awesome.
I taught the 1's, which was challenging because most of them had never ridden a horse before, but also really rewarding because of how much they improved over the week. They went from making amoeba-shaped "circles" with their horses on the first day, to trotting as a group (however briefly) with good balance on the last day. A couple of them also got the concept of posting down, which was really cool to see, and as a group their confidence improved immensely.
It also rained for several days of the week, which was a welcome break from the heat but unwelcome on Thursday night, which is when everyone goes out to Frontier Village (a campsite in the woods where the kids get to sleep in tipis overnight). It rained all night and was pretty cold, but still somehow heavy on mosquitos. We had half-frozen Uncrustables instead of s'mores, and a wet morning as we got the horses ready for the trailride back to the ranch on Friday morning. I don't mind the rain that much, but more sunshine would be amazing this week. I've got my fingers crossed.
Heading into week 8, we've got Discovery kids again... the little ones... but more SALTs (6 of them) plus a couple of guys who used to be SALTs and are coming out to help this week--an added blessing because we're going to have a cabin of 10 boys, the most we've had all summer. I'm looking forward to it; a fresh start, a new chance to start the week off right, a new set of kids to bond with and teach.
It's still crazy to me that it's August already. Really? Less than two months before I head back to school, and if I was in school, we would be gearing up for finals right now. I've got mixed feelings about my etude. It's getting better with every practice session, but I'm going to start memorizing now and try to have it memorized by the end of this month (a month before I'll have to play it, exactly like I try to do it for juries). I have faith that God will make it work out. The etude was my main conflict with camp, but I came to camp anyway, so it seems inevitable that the etude will come along too.
Yes, "overachiever" is my middle name. That's the way I roll, folks.
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