10 miles, 5 hours

Baasha's learning. He heard the click of the latch on the gate this morning, and though he was way out in the field, out of sight, I heard him nicker that food nicker, and I thought, what, he's got the routine now? It only took several months to learn that I come out with breakfast between 9 and 10? (I thought he was senile.)

He met me halfway this time, I did not have to trek way out in the back 40. Woo hoo Baasha, here's your bucket o goodness!

I have finally found a vitamin mineral supplement that meets horsie nutritional needs, so I have been adding 100 grams a day of that to his mash, (that is a lot!), and since I was worried it might not taste good, I have been chopping apples and carrots every morning to make everyday a birthday meal for my baby. Perhaps that is why he listens for the gate in the morning?

Every day 5 or 10 tiny apples fall from the trees, and I gather them up for these buffets.

And as I mucked today, and he manged out on his super mash, I got a visitor! The Canadian lady from the church I visited on Sunday came by on her bike. I showed her my house, (thank God it was clean and all the dishes were done and smelled like Mr Clean, yah!). It was great talking English again to a new friend, and I gave her a Christian CD I made her, and a book that inspired me. Oh, I can't wait to hear what she thinks of that book, it touched my heart so!

Then we went out, the sun came out, she noticed our strawberries and grapes and ate some, and I said, "It looks like a perfect day for riding." So she pedalled her way home, and I caught Baasha.

He had this huge green manure stain on his neck and ears, and I know he was out in the field when he did this. That means, he must have seeked out the one fresh manure pile in a vast amount of space, and lay in it purposefully. AGH. I took a soapy wet towel and did my best.

Saddle, bit attached to halter, and saddlebags full of Aachner Printen and Ritter Sport and a water bottle. Baasha loves Aachner Printen, that is so cool!

They only come out at Christmas, they are hard to describe, like nothing I had ever had before Germany. Small semi soft breadish bars with licorice flavoring. Chewy sugary Anise bars. I can't describe it adequately, sorry! He won't eat the fresh grapes growing on his stall, but he begs for Printen!

Cell phone in pocket, ready for an emergency, I was ready for a good long ride.

We rode all the way to Altenberg! That's the cathedral in Odentahl, 10 miles round trip. Thankfully I found a river trail to ride along a beautiful, mystical river that compels daydreams, and the way was flat and well groomed. I got off for any elevation change, because he is not sound coming down hills.


We made new horsie friends .....one was a black pony with a white forelock. Really, the coloring in this guy was unbelievable. A soft eyed chestnut begged us to enter his paddock. A grulla Icelandic stallion pranced along the fence with us. He was dappled silver with black points, an amazing color. Several riders with Icelandics tolted by. That gait just looks so odd to me!

We visited this guy coming and going. What a head he has!

I ran into the strange man with the TB, who always rides full tilt down the streets with traffic. His dog is the one who bit my man. He is of questionable character in this neighborhood. But he had so much to say to me today! He had no idea that I could not understand his slang and colloquialisms and accent and whatever else. He spoke a mile a minute, and I specifically remember that he used words that I had never heard, and I was sure it was local talk. (sigh)

His TB had the strangest eyes. The whole time he talked, Baasha pawed the ground, alternating legs to show me his urgency to end this pause. His TB had eyes rimmed in white, so the horse looked terrified the entire time, but he did not move a muscle the entire time we talked. I noted the man's long whip, proper english saddle, brushing boots, flash noseband, and that chestnut with blaze just stood there looking at us the entire time with those eyes. In fact, Baasha was so aggravated, Baasha tried to nudge the horse in the nose a few times, to get a reaction out of him. I was embarrassed, but what can you do. Baasha was taking out his frustration on this well behaved (and perhaps abused) TB. Not friendly behavior!

I wonder about abuse or neglect because I rode by and saw the Haflinger stallion he mentioned that he rides when he is not riding the chestnut, and I remember the other day the stallion trotted up to us challengingly, and prancingly showed me his overlong feet. Ah, how I hate to see overlong feet on a horse!

The man told many tales of being caught without a rider license and having to pay 140 Euros, of people yelling at him on the trails, of people wanting to take advantage of his horse training skills. He pointed to his chestnut and said, "He shook me loose 20 times when I first rode him. I kept at it and now I can ride him anywhere." (That I have seen!) He continued, "Now the previous owner wants him back, and wants me to train another wild one." I said, "As if you earned money doing it." Yah.

He lives near us and rides far, like I do. He told me it would take me an hour to get home.

That is, if I had followed the known route. I saw a trail sign and decided to explore a new route. (WHY!?)

The trail went thru a nice town next to our town, I was happy to see it, and then it turned into a giant stairway down. WHAhuh? I can't take Baasha down countless stairs. So I pressed on, hoping there would be a trail to my neighborhood. There just had to be!

Sure enough, there was, but it got smaller and smaller, and with barbed wire, dangers around. Two huge fallen trees right beside each other were a challenge for Baasha to get over, I was so worried! But then we kept at it, following this deer trail down to the lowlands. When we hit the creek, I saw the real trail on the other side. A trail we had been on before.

Two ladies with walking sticks came down the trail. They saw us down in the gorge and said, "That's no horse trail!" I said, "I know, I am lost, am I near my home?" and I told them my street name. They said, "Oh yes! This trail goes there!" I knew it. I just had to get down and up there.

The ladies looked down at me and said, "Can your little horse go across that creek?" (That was the second time someone had called him "little horse" today.)

I said, "The creek is no problem, but getting up to you might be."

We walked across the creek and looked straight up. It was a high embankment, almost straight up. I knew I could do it, if I used my hands and feet, and I thought probably Baasha can do it too.

The ladies were transfixed. Worried. Can he do it? They asked. I said, "We'll see."

I unattached his reins and clipped one end of the reins to his halter and told him to WAIT for me.

I struggled up the embankment and he watched, planning his move. I saw a safe route and told him to go for it.

He leapt up there like a cat climbing a vertical wall. His easyboots are more slippery than barefoot, so I was worried he'd fall. He made it up, WHEW.

The ladies were so impressed. They asked me where I am from. I said America. They said, "But the horse isn't." and I said, "Yes, we are both from America." and then I said, "Thank you very much for your help. We didn't want to end up in the Bergisches Morgenpost again (newspaper), after falling thru a bridge in May!" One of the ladies said, "Oh, that was you in the paper! I read that!" I said thank you a few more times and power walked up that last trail to home. (I expectd that they would have heard of me, there isn't much news out here in the country, so if you get in the paper, people tend to remember it.)

I held onto his breastcollar, letting him drag me up the last hill to home as I stumbled along, exhausted, on foot.

Baasha was thirsty when we got home, cuz he refused every water crossing. He dove into his water bucket. I tried to brush all the sweat marks off him, and then I gave him an apple. I started walking down toward the ponds to open the gate to let him out to pasture and he got really rowdy and tossed his head, trotting after me, like, LET ME AT IT! and he flew by when I opened the door to grass, and dug in to his field. Hungry!

I spent some time cleaning up poop out there, trying to find the spot he greened his neck in.

He was ripping up the long grass as fast as he could.

It did me good to watch him.