Editor’s Note: This article for anyone second guessing a decision to do something outside of their comfort zone. Sometimes, going against the norm could change your life or at least your perspective about life.

 

       I can appreciate many things from afar --- the splendor of the ocean as long as I don’t have to swim in it; the fluffy bulk of a black bear when it’s not running after me and the graceful elegance of a horse when I’m not on its back.

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       And so went my life of careful contemplation until I made arrangements this fall to go camping with a friend. My vision included bonfires, s’mores and a glamped-out tent fixed to my cute, red jeep. Hers was to hop on a spirited horse and gallop for three hours on a mountaintop in Maggie Valley, N.C., where we intended to enjoy this rare weekend away.

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       We made these plans months in advance, me being very supportive of her desire to go horseback riding. I was adamant that I would not share in her enthusiasm and was happy that her sister was joining the trip so she could. One less reason to worry about nixing someone’s plans. I would bring a book and enjoy the day while they ventured on red and yellow leafed trails to the summit. It sounded wonderful, I had to admit, but I held fast to my reasoning. I didn’t want to fall off the horse, roll down a mountainside and potentially die.

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       Now, I am not a novice to horseback riding. I made these decisions based on experiences from a long time ago. My family actually owned a few horses and we went riding together occasionally. I was in my early 20s then and didn’t have much sense about impending doom as I do now. The horses we had were gentle but one -- Honey. Honey hated humans except for my father. She pinned her ears back to head anytime I got near her. If I ever had the audacity to get on her back, I probably wouldn’t be here now. As with some of us, she struggled with a bad temper.

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       It didn’t occur to my father to be wary of her or any horse for that matter. He wasn’t haunted by the formula that kept playing in my head: Velocity + Height + Thin Straps to Hold Onto = Painful fall. I wish I had been more like him.

As time flew by, I never had an opportunity, nor did I seek one, to ever sit on the back of a horse again. It wasn’t even on my radar. But this weekend, the idea that my friend planted in my head made me reconsider the potential of having an awesome experience horseback riding in the mountains.

  

       So, as the day to camp neared, I decided to sign up for the adventure. Three hours on a horse, heading up the slope of one of the mountains near Maggie Valley. The three of us knew there was a huge potential of being sore the remainder of our trip but it would be worth it to experience something different, we told ourselves.

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       The day couldn’t have been more perfect. It was cold, trees were starting to turn and we found the “stable” without much trouble. Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you it was a five-star business. When we drove up, the horses (which all appeared to be in good shape) were hitched beside a rundown trailer that I assume was an office, and there were dogs of all kinds running around everywhere. I found out later, that the dogs were a necessity in the backwoods of those mountains given that bears were inhabiting much of that area. The dogs would give chase if they got a whiff of a bear, scaring them off thereby easing the minds of the horses and the brave souls riding on their backs.

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       I was convinced by the owners that the horses were as laidback as they were but I begged them nonetheless to give me the slowest nag in the herd if I was going to partake in this adventure. They selected one named Splash, who was not old but who wanted to take this trip up the mountain as much as I did. We made a great pair.

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       With my two friends also mounted on their horses, we started down a long road to the base of the mountain. I felt good and actually comfortable sitting astride this beast and I was thinking that perhaps I will be able to enjoy the ride. And I really did until a sudden commotion spooked several lead horses, my friend’s included. As I was riding up the trail her horse decided to book it in the opposite direction and if one horse goes, they all will follow. Our fearless guide (and I mean this quite frankly) got off his horse and grabbed the reins of the disobedient ones ushering them up with a swat on their back. During this squabble, my horse and I faced a different direction pretending all was well. Splash only pinned her ears back a few times, a look I learned she displayed when another horse was in her personal space. Given we rode in single file that happened a lot.

 

       As it turned out, there was a bear, or dare I say two, on top of the mountain we were climbing on our nervous steeds. Thankfully the dogs did their jobs to scare them off and I, for some reason completely foreign to me, was ok with that. Bear, you say? I say Tally Ho!

 

       We finally made it to the top and removed ourselves from our horses. I made the mistake of reading up on how to dismount and learned that if you aren’t wearing the right type of boot your foot could slide inside the stirrup and you’d find yourself doing an acrobatic trick as the horse takes off with you half on and half off the saddle. So, I waited for assistance.

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       None of us were sore after an hour and a half on horseback but to help loosen the kinks we walked a few yards to a lookout point that made the trip worthwhile. It was absolutely beautiful. But given there was just one small rock jutting out to the edge of the world with absolutely no guard rails, I decided to take a quick pic and let others have their turn to look.

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        Even though it was just the halfway point and knowing we had yet another hour and a half left down the mountain, I felt like the worst of it was over. It’s a trick I play on myself to rush time but it worked. I got back on Splash – again with assistance – and waited until everyone else was ready to head back to the stables. Then I heard laughter from the other riders and the sounds of frustrations coming from my friend.  I could only pull my eyes away for a minute because Splash was getting ticked off with the horse beside me. But then I saw what all the fuss was about and secretly thanked the stars above it wasn’t me.

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        “Push my leg over,” my friend hollered several times as she held on for dear life to the horse, still unable to swing onto the saddle. The guide was flummoxed and frustrated, apparently not used to strong-headed women. But eventually, he hoisted her leg over and she plunked down directly on the horse’s rump. The saddle was missed entirely.

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        With things back to a state of normal, we proceeded single filed down the mountain. My poor horse was emitting all sorts of noise that, let’s just say, might have been due to something she ate. So by the time we were halfway down, the cinch that held the saddle in place had loosened so much it felt like I was riding on Splash’s neck.

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        As we got closer to the starting point and I felt calm enough to take videos and photos of the scene so I could hear the calming sound of hoofs on dirt and so I wouldn’t soon forget the experience. I don’t know when or if I will ever be on a horse again, but I never would have been able to have this memory if I didn’t go out of my comfort zone. For me, that’s pretty big.