In Hawaii I was reading Mark Twain’s Letters from Hawaii, a collection of letters he wrote for a newspaper when he visited the islands in the 1860’s, before he became famous. In the book he goes on about his horse Oahu, a horrible creature that gave him a fearsome case of saddle sores that made him bedridden for a week.
That’s how I felt after Firecracker and I went horseback riding at Gunstock Ranch near the North Shore. We were already sunburned from snorkeling in Waimea Bay, and earlier that day we climbed Diamond Head crater in Waikiki. My horse was named Rhett, which made me Scarlett, and he carried me upstairs and had his way with me. My balls played that saddle like it was a timpani.
Our guide was a gal named Jamie from West Virginia. Like all West Virginians she was friendlier than you could imagine. We rode for about 2 hours, and she was a wellspring of information about the local foliage and environment. For example these are century plants, so named because they are planted in front of Century 21 realty agencies.
Rhett reminded me of myself. He was stubborn and slow, but good-natured as long as he got to stop and eat every few minutes. He was also impatient, and kept trying to muscle Sarah’s horse aside to jockey forward. If he hung back too long whilst munching on grass, he’d trot to catch up, playing a timpani serenade on the back of the saddle with my scrotum. He also liked to trot uphill.
“Stand up in the saddle,” the gals said. That just gave my nutsack more distance to drop and hit the unforgiving leather of the seat. “Roll with it,” they called. I tried, looking like Yosemite Sam bouncing on his ornery burro. “Whoa mule! WHOA!”
We stopped for a brief interlude atop a crest for photos. As you can see, Rhett wouldn’t pose for the photo when there was grass to be eaten.
For your entertainment, I took some video of our ride. The second one is mostly Cloverfield on horseback with me a-hootin’ and a-hollerin’ trying to hang on for dear life, but the first one isn’t so bad.
Rhett trying to kill me.
For 2 hours in the sun with a sunburn it was a lovely ride. I even managed to dismount, or as I put it, “park my horse” by the steps and get off without stumbling. I noticed Rhett was a gelding, and all became clear. He was jealous, and wanted to geld me too.