In my last post I mentioned that I woke up at 5am and couldn't get back to sleep. To keep this from devolving into a dozey afternoon (and having learned my lesson from yesterday's $6 coffee), I mainlined the hostel's free coffee until my shuttle picked me up to take me to the morning's outing: horseback riding!
 |
| Begga |
THOROUGHLY awake, my driver picked me and my fellow caballeros-to-be up and drove us out to the ranch/stables/farm that the family owned, and passed us off to Begga (who I called 'Becca' until she gave me their card at the end of the day. I didn't feel too bad about it though, as she kept calling me by my horse's name throughout the day.). She and her husband started the company a few years ago, and have been going strong ever since. She gave us a quick rundown on safety, commands, posture, the differences between Icelandic and non-Icelandic horses, and what we'd be doing before we left to meet our mounts for the morning.
To summarize:
- Icelandic horses are pretty small. They're also shaggy, and their mane falls in their face. The effect makes them look like the lead singer of an emo rock band.
- They can also two two extra gaits than most other horses: the Tolt and the Pace
- Apparently beginners are actually better at riding Icelandic horses than experienced riders. Larger horses require very upright, proper posture, whereas Icelandic ones ride better if you slouch a bit (like you're sitting on a couch). I was excellent at this part, obviously.
My horse was named Frayfaxi (pronounced Fray-foxy), and one of the folks working there told me he was the dominant male of the herd. I was a little nervous when they gave him to me, because where all the other horses were just standing at the posts they were tied to and staring off into space, mine was throwing his head around and headbutting/rubbing against the fence. I walked up to him and spent a good ten minutes scratching his mane and face and baby-talking him, and by the time I got on him, one of Begga's assistants said he looked super relaxed and comfortable.
 |
| Frayfaxi, which means 'Mane of Fraya' |
That did NOT mean he was going to listen though.
He was a bit stubborn, so I'd have to give him commands a couple of times before he'd begrudgingly oblige. In particular, he didn't like stopping when I told him to. That of course stopped as soon as Begga walked up, and he lowered his ears and started behaving. She gave me some tips on how to make him listen ("If he's enjoying a nice stroll and doesn't want to stop for you, just pull a hard right and make him walk in a circle until he decides he's fine being where he is.")
To be honest though, once we were on the trail, the horses knew what to do, and we were (quite literally) just along for the ride. Begga was out in front and set the pace, and the horses just followed along. Frayfaxi wanted to be in front though and kept trying to nose his way in between other horses to walk alongside Begga's horse. This resulted in a few funny moments where I had to apologize to the other riders for my vehicle deciding to cut them off (a precursor to self-driving car etiquette maybe?). The horses also had their own ideas about who they wanted to hang out with. Two were friends and always wanted to be walking next to each other, and another pair were half-sisters and while one wanted to be with her big sis, the big sis was CLEARLY too cool for that and kept trying to get away.
Politics, man.
Anyway, they walked us through a volcanic landscape that seriously felt like walking on Mars. Begga
 |
| The landscape seriously felt like Mars. |
said there was a reason for that. The landscape was dotted with 'pseudo-craters,' pockets of air or water trapped by lava that pop like hell bubbles and leave a crater about 15-30 feet across. The only known places where these occur are Iceland, small parts of the Canary Islands, and Mars. It was even somewhat red too, thanks to a lot of oxidized iron in the basalt. We trotted about a bit, took some photos of the rocks, basalt, and craters, and then headed back. When we got back Frayfaxi kept headbutting me trying to get me to pet him more, When the horses had been de-saddled, the instructors told us to walk the horses by the reins to them, then get out of the pen ASAP . One guy didn't listen and Begga (sounding a little frantic) had to encourage him to stop taking photos and get out. Once he did and made it through the gate, the instructors all released the reins and dove for cover as the horses started to play, jump, and roll around at once. It was adorable and frightening all at once.
 |
| Playtime! |
We headed home from there, and I grabbed a lobster sandwich from a food truck outside my hostel. Fully be-shellfished, I went to check out the church and go souvenier shopping (I've got tours booked for my last two days in Iceland, so I wanted to get that taken care of). The church and view were excellent, and I got a nice Icelandic wool sweater. It's warm as hell, so I probably won't wear it until next winter, but I had to do it.
 |
| View from the belltower |
After that, a nap and then dinner (which I wrote about previously) and then bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment