Completely gutted. Now, there are worse places to come home to than spectacularly beautiful Vancouver Island, and so complaining is a bit like bitching that your Lamborghini is the wrong colour. And yet, there I was, bitching.
I’m better now. It’ll only be two weeks, and BC is gorgeous, and being home with Wayde is lovely, and the Fred horse and the Alf horse are here.
The past weeks in PEI have seen Pai and me riding at South Granville, and again at Thunder Cove – where, while it wouldn’t be accurate to say that she was keen to get her little desert-horse feet wet, she did manage to avoid a full-on freak-out at the surf, and waded in up to her elbows.
Let it be said that even though an adventurous attitude can be an admirable thing, heading out without at least a vague plan of the lay of the land means you can wind up in some sub-optimal riding locations. My bucolic randonnée along tree-lined clay roads in South Granville ended up on Hwy 224 just east of Stanley Bridge – not precisely a relaxing lane. Luckily, Pai’s only real trail-horse shortcoming is a grave mistrust of changes in footing (pink sand to red sand, grass to asphalt, grass to grass that has seaweed on it…), which meant that even though the white road markings at Cavendish Corner were clearly horse-gobbling devils, the speeding cars* and rumbling transport trucks that passed us on the highway barely merited a flick of the ear.
*Re speeding cars: I have quickly learned to identify out-of-province vehicles without looking at the plates, by the fact that they will slow down when they pass me, and give me room. For whatever reason (is it possible that all Island horses are stunningly well-broke?), it does not seem to cross the mind of PEI drivers that there is a wee possibility that given their, um, quirky nature, the odd horse may
careen into traffic step off the shoulder, creating the same (but antler-less) kind of havoc hinted at by those giant moose warning signs.
Thanks to the Jesus phone and Google maps, we quickly found our way back to the peaceful, shady dirt roads, and all was well, despite the fact that an intended two-hour ride clocked in at over three and a half hours. Meh – it was a beautiful day.
We also, finally, a couple days before I left, went swimming. Two days prior, I had gotten myself a second-hand synthetic saddle, and was ready to roll. The tide was in, and Pai was unruffled at the idea of wading around with water up to her chin, and so it took little more encouragement to send her out over her depth. My cousin Alan has pictures he took from his deck, which I’ll post if I get the chance.
I popped in to the track paddock area a few times on race night, in Summerside and in Charlottetown. I hovered around, unbuckling the odd bit of harness and lugging the odd bit of gear.
Alan’s horse Tobin’s Knockout had a couple of disappointing nights, but my friend Frank’s horse Ankaway had a winning trip.
While I’m in BC for a couple of weeks, Pai is safely settled under Frank’s care at Valley Downs racetrack in Tyne Valley, where she is odd man out in a sea of bay Standardbreds. She had a quick visit to the track a few days back, when the farrier Dean came by to give her a pedicure, and she witnessed a horse in harness for the first time in her life. She found the sight to be utterly appalling. She saw another one go out again a couple of nights ago, and she still didn’t know what to make of it.
Trevor and kids came by the track last night for a visit. While Jae was gung-ho and ready to hop on Pai’s back, Julian was wisely cautious when faced with a gigantic new creature, and was very, very concerned when she showed her teeth in a massive yawn.
Look at all those teeth!