A Horseman

My first time riding a horse independently, no one leading the animal and walking around in circles, was in 1972. I was a 19 year old exchange student from Westfield State College in Massachusetts to East Central State College in Ada, Oklahoma. For me, it was a new world, my first commercial plane trip, and all the wonders of travel to a new place, a new culture. My friend Terry took me out to a place where they just let you go on a horse, out into the rolling hills. I was thrilled, a horse rider for the next 34 years.

My boyhood idol was Roy Rogers, the King of the Cowboys. I would watch the old cowboy movies on TV religiously, as captivated by the horses as much as the riders and stories. Rex Allen, Buck Jones, Tim McCoy, Tom Mix, and of course the King of them all

My first horse was Jake, running quarter horse, a mix of quarter horse and thoroughbred. He was, as one person who dared to get on him said, “a lotta horse.” He was a GO horse, one touch of heel on his side and he was ready to run, and he was fast. My friend Craig was a crazy old chain-smoking transplanted Arizona cowboy in the second of five marriages. It was with his example that I was inspired to buy Jake. Craig loved to try to beat Jake in a race, and he never could. I think back to those days and wonder how I’m still alive, the way we used to ride. My wife Kristine, when she heard the stories of our rides, bought a disability insurance policy. Jake died in 1996, and Craig died 25 years later, felled by his cigarette habit.

My next horse was Gus, a Grulla, a horse with dun coloring and a darker dorsal stripe. Gussy was the perfect horse for my older years. He wasn’t a GO horse; he had to be prodded to run, and he wasn’t fast, the perfect companion for long, easy miles of trail. Both Gus and Jake before him went with me and Craig, David and my brother Tracy with his horse Duke on camping horse trips throughout the Northeast, the Adirondacks, Vermont, and Maine. Gus had developed girth sores soon after I bought him, so I abandoned my old western saddle and rode him bareback for almost two years. After one seven-hour ride, severe upper leg cramps motivated me to get the English-style endurance saddle, seen above.

There was something I loved about riding, even more than being out in the woods. It was the communication, the partnership of horse and rider. Both Jake and Gus knew what I wanted before I signaled, and I could anticipate their next moves as well.

On one ride in northern central Massachusetts, there was a rider whose horse was a little much for him. We had gone into a large field at the bottom of a long gradual incline up to the woods, maybe 1/8 mile. Just as the horses were settled into chomping on the fresh grass, Dean’s horse suddenly panicked and took off, a runaway. Dean hung on all the way up the hill, around a tree, and they came downhill at full speed.

I was riding bareback those days. I sat on Gus, watching Dean and his runaway horse careening down the hill; they came right at us and rammed Gussy’s hind end, spinning us around, and Gus went down. I was on the ground, and for a second, I thought Gus was coming down on top of me, all 1200 lbs. But he seemed to move out of my vision, and we both got up from the ground. Dean also got up from his fall, walked toward me, and we shook hands, happy uninjured survivors. I’ve often wondered what spirit moved Gussy away from crushing me that day. We named Dean’s horse Ramsey.

In 2007, Kristine and I wanted to get away more often without worrying who would take care of the barn, Gus and a boarder in the two stalls. I was tiring of the care the horses required, and it was time for a change. After 11 years together, I donated Gus to a place that gives rides to disabled children. That same year we bought our cabin on beautiful Torsey Pond in Maine, and I began my next avid activity, kayaking. I didn’t have to feed or clean up after my kayak, and it also took me out into the gorgeous wilds of nature.