The Long Walk Back

When last we left them, moose and squirrel were trapped in….oh wait that’s another story. This is the one about my long walk back after getting thrown from a horse. Warning and spoiler alert. For those who are easily bored you may want to skip this one and yes there will probably be some self-pity in the lines below.

As I said in yesterday’s blog, my options were get back on the horse or walk the, I don’t know, ½, 1 or 2 miles back to the stables. Mileage, more simple questions no one could answer. Climbing back on a horse was not do-able in my current condition, not that I would anyway, so I opted for walking. All my riding partners had deserted me so I wasn’t getting any assistance there. Apparently my now rider free horse had suddenly decided to keep up with the group and ran through scaring all the other horses. The” idiot guide” ( yes she is still an idiot and you will see why shortly) said she would go get a golf cart and come back and pick me up. She took off on her horse like Dale Evans. So there I was alone in the middle of who knows where following a trail like Hansel and Gretel except that my only guide was horse poop. And believe me there was plenty to follow. Now a long walk, mostly uphill, when you can barely move leaves lots of time for thinking. Too much one might say. All those negative or perhaps realistic thoughts come breaking through. I reviewed my recent flight (the 10 foot one, not on a plane) and the realities of how this could have been much more serious and how even the injuries I just suffered could be permanent making me even more of a cripple than I already am. You see several years back in a stupid, freak-no just stupid accident I managed to dislocate my foot, crush my ankle and break my leg in 3 places. The result is a shattered/crushed, plated, rodded,( not sure there are words for rods and pins through your leg) pinned, i.e. permanently damaged leg. This leg causes lots of pain, both physical and emotional, and limits much of what I can do. This new injury could further complicate that. I can barely move as it is, I don’t need a bad back on top of everything else. When I started this blog, I left all this leg stuff out not wanting to give it any power, but here it is, sneaking up behind me. What is the point of travel if you can’t even move?  Am I trying for the impossible here? Is it too ambitious, risky, dangerous or just foolhardy to try and travel with 2 people with physical limitations? Am I risking my husband’s heath pushing us around the country or globe? Or am I doing it by almost killing myself? Should I just go home and plop my now iced ass down on my couch and get fatter waiting for life to be over? I expect setbacks, but not from my end and not like this. Anyway in the middle of my depressing internal rant the “idiot guide” comes walking back. She got the golf cart stuck. I only needed to see the trail for 2 seconds to know a golf cart would not work on it so yes, she retains the name “idiot guide”. She then gives me complicated and convoluted directions on how my friends can come and pick me up from a bike path so of course I gave up and walked the rest of the way back. I arrived to pitying looks from my group. Not ever the kind of looks you want to get. I cracked a joke but no one heard it because they were all too busy with their pitying looks. My sage wisdom for today is that if you are going to get thrown off a horse, do it by yourself so you don’t have to deal with the pitying looks.

The Poop Trail

We are probably leaving today if I can stand being in the car. Wineries are out, North Dakota out. I guess it’s time to go home, regroup and decide if it’s time to give all this up. If I’m going to be miserable, I might as well be in Jersey.