Written by
John Cox, M.A. C/M
Let me take you back, way back when, in 1977, and a memorable learning experience with a horse. Unforgettable. . . I rode off and on at that time, but never owned a horse directly. As well, I had spent many years around the Mount St. Helens landscape, knew it well, on the valley flats and on the mountains, being in the area, often, whenever I had time off to do so. I rode a friend’s horse that I had ridden a couple of times over the years, a good quarter-horse and paint gelding, and very forgiving. Certainly, patient with an inexperienced rider.
We were at a place called Indian Racetrack, near Red Mountain, with Mount St. Helens, before it erupted, in the landscape, among other volcanic mountain peaks, all in view from the valley floor. There were logging roads into the area, with much of it already logged-out, and large meadows we camped at often.
I also, unknowingly LOL, become more of an environmentalist, when I saw first-hand the direct effects of human-kind. I understood our blatant ignorance toward the things we suppose we could sacrifice, while making a few bucks. It was easy to understand, we could do far better . . . Without the sacrifices being made, even today.
Anyway, we approached a dry creek bed, with rounded river-rock, we had to pass over. It was part of the trail, and a situation I run across many times – just part of what trail riding in the Pacific Northwest always has been and is today. Challenging but beautiful. But this is the type of circumstance we learn, many different things, all at once. I learned one can trust a horse at that time, by doing one simple thing.
This is one lesson that stuck with me from then on, when I dealt with a horse; well, actually, all of my horses I owned over the years – Trust. What I put intro it, I got out of it “ten-fold”, with a horse, once I bonded with them. The person I was with had a few years riding and owning horses, so I trusted what she had to say, as well.
“Drop the Reins is the que”, she said.
I looked at the rocks the horse was about to cross, shrugged a little, and dropped the reins. It was obvious the horse had to navigate the rocks by feel, at the same time, keeping his balance with me on his back – I understood quite well, to relax, comfortably (LOL), while the horse took control.
This was also a big lesson for me, to allow something else to control the situation, not of human-kind, but of animal-kind. A real trust builder, for sure. Suddenly those rocks looked like huge lion’s teeth, ready to chew-up and spit-out anything that fell onto them. I looked at my reins. I looked at the rocks.
I forget what it was I mumbled, as my partner looked around, “I’ve done this on that horse a thousand times,” she said, and laughed. Suddenly her laugh was not pleasant to hear, but rather satanic, or something like it. I chalked that up, to perhaps, we should not have smoked that last joint.
The horse navigated through the rocks quite well. No incident. Nothing happened. We were on the other side, alive, unbroken, and life worth living. The reins once again in my hands. What I noticed, and recall quite well, was the fact, lesson learned, and I did not have to balance on my reins, nor, hold my reins tight. I pushed forward, and softened the reins, and realized how responsive my horse became, the instant I done so. It was an entire different ride from then onward.
The ride was far more enjoyable, the forest once we got into it, even greater. After that few days riding those trails daily, and camping near streams, near hot-springs where the boulders actually made it relaxing to sit within, or, near beautiful meadows, life was good. I also developed hip-leg-knee action, rather than using the reins. This is also why I speak about experience, a lot, in my writing about horses. Because it was that experience, that foundation of finally taking riding a horse more serious, being on one every day for nearly two weeks.
I rode, from then on, whenever I could, and learned a lot of what I know first-hand and on horseback, in the mountains, on and off the trails. I often wondered, my PTSD at that time, little was known about it, but I knew the horses I was around helped me.
Like driving a car, riding a motorcycle, or big truck, you have to do it to understand completely, how it’s done. Reading books is one thing, experience quite another thing and needed. That was, truthfully, the beginning of my relationships with horses, and with that foundation, wanting to learn more about them. Wanting to become better at it. Making it a natural-progression of living life, with horses and dogs, and in the countryside . . .” – John Cox, M.A. C/M
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