Okay. There can be no balance in my life. Now until the end of my days I am going to remain a lopsided individual. I will always have regrets about this, but I am not strong enough to continue attempting to swim against the tide, which just seems to be getting stronger and stronger.

So I am going downstream with the tide.

This reminds me of many years ago, when I attended a Competitive Trail Ride Clinic out off Shrock Road, with my friend Brandi. My horses were very young, so I rode Yelma (Helmet) a very chunky white horse with a brown head, hence the name Yelma (Helmet).

We did a series of exercises around the property where the clinic was being held, then we went for a group trail ride, which was led by Deb Moore. Brandi rode Hunar, who was eventually purchased by Vicki Talbet.

Brandi's daughter Millie on Yelma

I was concerned because I knew we had to cross the Little Su River, which was at flood stage, and this was something I did not want to do. I didn’t say anything, but positioned myself at the rear of the pack so that I might, from there, access the situation from the back. I figured that if other horses were having trouble, I’d head back to the clinic site.

Brandi and I got to the river where horses and riders were milling around. The fourth one to venture out into the fast flowing current was a small girl, maybe 12 or so, who was riding a long legged bay horse. We watched as she got three quarters of the way across, then along with her horse was swept by the current into a sweeper.

The horse scrambled to safety, as they often do. The little girl came off the horse and clung to the branches. It was spring, and the water was very cold. The riders discussed what to do, no one had any answers. Finally, Deb Moore, who had a rope, plunged into the water and rode to the other side. She roped up the horse from where she was sitting and pulled it to shore. Then she went back and had the child climb on the back of her horse.

This was an impressive move on Deb’s part. However, now the dozen of us had to get across. There was a lot of talk as to whether we should ride the longer route back to the clinic site or cross the river and take the shorter route.

Me, I voted for riding the long route home. Brandi, under her breath, said that she had a third option. I trusted her judgement because she lived nearby and knew this river well.

So we rode the trail downstream and then rode out onto a shallow bar, which went a long ways. We then waded into the water, Me and Yelma following Hunar and Brandi. The water was deep and Hunar did struggle some. But Yelma, who was built like a marshmallow, bobbed in the current. I later said to Brandi that riding her was like being on a floaty toy.

We exited the river on the flat bank – there were no sweepers to get caught up in – and rode back to her place.

This is my story about swimming against the tide.

Next: 279. 10/11/23: Rage, do not go Gentle into that Good Night