Connemara Ponies By the Sea!

Yes, today we did it. We rode equines in Connemara by the sea (and in it!).

Once more I woke and showered before tired jet-lagged Megan, and she grogged awake at ten. I remember that feeling . . . poor lady. The front desk called about 10:30 to see if we wanted breakfast (they are hurting for business a bit since the American tourists haven't been showing up as much this year, consequently they treat us like queens). We relented (we were going to settle for apples and tea) and let them send up a very nice breakfast, including fresh boiled eggs from their hens, fresh hothouse berries from here, real marmalade on dark sodabread, nice porridge, and lovely tea.

Then we motivated enough to go outside, and we strolled the grounds, admiring the fabulous tree ferns, until I oriented myself to find the horses - a lovely young bay horse being warmed -up on a longe line in the muddy outdoor arena, and many lovely lovely horses in their loose boxes. Megan photographed them making friends with me.

Then we found Megan's pile of barn cats. kittens everywhere and two very pregnant queens, ruddy brindle lovelies and black and white ones . . climbing all over the pile of cut peat. :)

We investigated the tack shop they have here for Cashel House Stud, and wonder of wonders, they happened to have the very short paddock boots that I have been trying to find for about 10 years, and in my size. Now, who could resist that, I ask you? Not me!

We went in to the front desk to inquire about riding, and Mrs. McEvilly, the lovely sweet owner of Cashel House, called ahead to the stable, which she said was a 45 minute drive away. Or so. (The man in the office said "ch, at least an hour, ladies.") So we got all sunblocked and in already-worn clothes (and my new boots *wacky-happy grin*) and piled into the car to drive to Cleggan for our ride. Um, the roads weren't well marked, and the directions were not accurate, and suffice to say we had a few swear words shared lovingly between us as we went down every single road in the small town before Cleggan, until finally after our third asking of directions along Sky Road, a nice grey heaired lady gardening in her rocky yard pointed us to a road we had gone down four times already, back and forth. Sigh. We made it just as they were beginning to assign the horses and get all the 9 riders booted. PHEW!!

breathing, we signed up and got our horse assignments - Megan on asweet sleepy Gypsy Cob looking pinto gelding called "Rocky" and me on a sensitive, patient, dull-sided (of course) and donkey-eared mare called "Bess".

We went to the little muddy arena, mounted up and did a few passes at the gaits to see who could do what. I was warned that Bess would probably not take the proper lead at the canter, but I just gently supported her into it and she did fine, though I know she needs either chiropractic work or a back surgeon from the stiffness of her gait. When Siobhan came to tighten my girth for me, she said "You ride beautifully" under her breath, with a quick smile. Which was nice of her. But then again she is used to tourii with sack-of-potatoes riding :)

And we set out. Two Middleaged Middle-Earth-Dwelling Ladies in Connemara. It was a nice hack to the beach, past lovely crumbly walls and the ubiquitous coreopsis lilies and bracken and heather and blackberries - the nice kind. Cars politely pulled over as we passed by. And then we were there- on the glorious, Mediterranean-blue seashore, with white soft sand and lovely round hills and the bay, and our friend the Yellow Thing shining merrily overhead. Sea wind in our hair, nice well-cared-for horses, surf and pure joy. They took the not-as-experienced folks for four long trots by the seashore, and the three of us with experience got to wait at the end of the long beach, and then gallop to the herd across the nice sea-packed sand, laughing the whole way. And then we all turned into the surf and rode through the waves. Ahhh . . . . . . One mare began to paw it like she was going to roll, and he sweet German lady aboard her did not understand the wrangler who was trying to tell her to get out of the sea, so I helped herd the mare away from a near-roll. Phew.

Then we had a nice trot up the road, and a slow meander back to the stable. And I sort of made my cheeks hurt from grinning so widely the entire time.

They only had us fill out one sheet with our riding experience on it, and one box to check that we knew that riding was dangerous, which contrasted utterly to the piles of insane paperwork in the SCA. How I wish it wasn't such a Big Deal there :(

We are planning to back tomorrow for a longer ride, through the surf, out to a little island in the bay, and then the next day we will go to the Aran Island that is right off the coast, and then to Maeve's Tomb and Dublin and home. I wish I could afford to hire a little cottage here near the stable, and write a screenplay involving Gypsy Cobs and Connemara Ponies in the surf . . . would only take a month . . . or three . . . *wicked grin*.

Megan called me Eowyn today, like she did in High School. We truly have wanted to do this most of our lives.

Ah, here comes the rain. Like Camelot it only seems to downpour at night, of course. *fingers crossed*

Blessings to all who read these!