SHE RAN CALLING WILDFIRE

Since it is Sunday, we can’t do a school visit as would happen on most Relief Ride itineraries after the goats, so we have a mellow afternoon at camp. Barry teaches some kids to juggle plastic bags filled with fists full of sand, Odile and Mary Anne play and sing with kids, Lisa is taking photos. Several people nap or read in or just outside their tents, grabbing shade wherever it can be found. In the late afternoon, we’ll go for a 3-hour fun ride.

Life has decided to teach me the lesson: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR (grammatically incorrect though it is). Barry and I had been grumbling to each other that we wanted to go at a faster pace. We had been divided into two groups, an advanced rider group, and the rest of us. For a while we were called the fast group and the slow group, but those of us in the slow group preferred the impatient ones, and the Zen group. Well, I was feeling like Zen was getting a little dull, but I knew I didn’t have the riding chops to be with the fast group. I asked Alexander and Prakash (the riding leader/guide of our slower group) if there was any possible way we could create a small third group to fit somewhere in the middle. Alexander said we couldn’t—there weren’t enough walkie talkies, or even guides to split into three groups, but he would encourage quickening the pace for the Zen gang.

Well, this was my big day for drama. Manisha, who always wants to find the hole and get out in front of the group to run, cantered up extremely fast on Curtis’ ass (an ass that resulted in a severe kick just a couple of days ago) so I pulled her to the outside. We were spread out wider than we should have been, instead of in some semblance of a line, and all order disintegrates at a run. As soon as Manisha saw open space in front of her, she took off like a shot and ran away with me. I had to grab saddle and just hold on, terrified, but the fear occurred in the moment as anger—anger at myself for not being a better horseman. Like when time slows down during a car accident, I had what seemed like many moments to have several very clear thoughts in what was in actuality a short burst of time.

I’m told we were quite a sight—me screaming “MANIIIIIIISSSSSSHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA” as we went up a small hillock, then disappeared into a ravine. Everyone was sure I had fallen off and they were getting ready to come after me when we popped up on the far side of the ravine, with me bouncing around on top like Yosemite Sam in a cartoon. They got a bit of a chuckle as I grew smaller on the horizon, Manisha still tearing out hell for leather. We dropped out of sight again into another, further ravine, then popped up again a bit further. At the lip of the third gully, there was a smallish rock between the two bushes we were heading toward, so she took a jump over it and down the side. At the bottom of this dry riverbed, we surprised two camels that took off lumbering away and Manisha decided to give chase. They split up and she pursued one, then switched direction and went after the other. Now I’m off of her, I figured, as she shifted direction so quickly, but somehow, through no skill of mine, my ass stayed glued to the saddle. She gave up on the camels and we bounded up the far side of the gully. We continued on a bit before the terrain opened up enough for me to turn her in a wide, wide circle and get her heading back to the group. She never slowed. We went back in the direction of the group that I couldn’t really see clearly, down and up and down and up and down and up again, we were off course but turned to the gang, and she charged even faster at the other horses, then just pulled up and danced a bit, amped and over-excited. Prakash grabbed her reigns, and up ran another couple of staff members—by then the jeep had caught up to the group.

In hindsight, it was amazing. The sound of hoofbeats loud in my ears, or maybe that was my heart racing. I physically could not unclench my hands afterward. I was so tense and full of adrenaline I was shaken and shaking and trying to keep my cool, but decided I needed to get off and ride in the jeep.

This killed me. Dr. Arora, Sunayna, and a couple of grooms in the jeep were all very kind and the other riders were very supportive, making me a hero instead of a fool, but I still only felt the fool. As one of the staff rode Manisha back to camp with the group (we had maybe an hour’s ride left) and we followed in the jeep, tears were always at the brim, ready to spill over, my throat sore in that little-boy-stifling-the-crying way. Had we crossed paths with the group in our jeep as the mellow end of the ride wound up, I think I would have gotten back on once I caught my breath, but the opportunity didn’t present itself. We drove back to camp and I waited in the tie up area for Manisha to return so I could brush her out and somehow apologize to her/myself for not handling it well. As the group rode in, dusk had set in, but I kept my sunglasses on and walked away so everyone wouldn’t feel the need to talk about it. I had to wait forever for her to dry before I could brush her, growing ever more emotional, beating myself up. I was petting her and kissing her and just wanting to bond, though she was ambivalent. I didn’t want to see a soul.

Eventually, while I was still waiting for her to dry and petting, talking, snuggling her, Barry made the long trek out from the tent area to see me. I truly didn’t want anyone there, but it was actually perfect. He and Susan are both great, and just a few days in I already cared very much for them. He just came out to tell me a funny story and a dumb joke and spend a little time being quiet. Then he left me alone with my horse. It shifted everything.

Later I skulked back to camp and into my tent to change, off to the latrines to splash water on my face, then joined the group at the campfire. I was applauded. Drinks were bought for me. My drama was only dramatic to me—nobody else particularly cared, as long as I was all right…and nor should they have.