I had to catch my flight and didn’t finish captioning, uploading, storytelling. I don’t like blogging on an iPad, it’s too slow. And I can’t upload any of my SLR images, which are soooo much better than ones I take with my phone.
Anyway, poor Bobo. Any time he would get into a little gallop and try to cut off one of the other horses, I’d panic and tell him “Pare, pare, pare“. I had changed to flip flops, no helmet, a huge backpack, my horse kept bumping into the other horses trying to squeeze in between them, and then I just gave up and let him do his thing. I started getting flashbacks of that asshole Pepperoni (who ruined me for all horses), he would just take off any time I told him to stop or slow down, always trying to be first. And with him I was wearing a bright yellow football helmet that didn’t fit my head, and I’d be bouncing around with that stupid helmet covering my eyes and I thought for sure it was just a matter of time before I was thrown. Bobo was much gentler, but I do think the handler got a kick out of making him gallop. Dick.
I have to say, I am so glad I took that horse, I would have gotten SO lost (and/or delirious) on the trail back. It gets dark around 5pm and there wasn’t a lot of daylight left and even the horse took about an hour and a half, which means I would have taken 5 hours. It was dusty and confusing and there were no signs that let me know the percentage completed (I loved that on the el pueblito trail!) so muchas gracias mi caballo amigo. As soon as I dismounted, Bobo broke for the trough, poor guy really needed a drink. I feel you Bobo, I feel you.
Next installment…how some kids almost robbed me on the beach, the beautiful Sierra Nevada, and yes, I jumped into a baby volcano.
