A Memory of Achilles at San Jose los Cabos

No, not the Greek hero you’re thinking of.  This Achilles was a lazy horse.  I asked the Herman the horse wrangler, “Where is Achilles’ heel?”  He smiled with most of his teeth, “He’s named after the Movie, Troy.”

Achilles was a small brown horse, a tired horse, a lazy horse, but the only stallion in the group.  I climbed aboard.  Achilles said, “Oof” with his eyes and hung his head.  I asked Herman the wrangler, “What’s the matter, you don’t like this little horse?  You place a big heavy guy like me on him?”  Herman laughed, “He’s a lazy horse, he’s easy to ride.”

Achilles hated to be in the lead, he preferred second place, or third, or even last, anywhere he could, so long as it was behind somebody else.  “Kick him in the ribs,”  said Herman.  Make him hurry up.  Pull back on the reins, make him slow down,”

Diana rode on ahead on a slightly larger horse named “Romano”.  It took some initial maneuvering on my part to get Achilles close enough so that Diana and I could talk.  Eventually Achilles would drift further and further back in the pack.  I would gently kick my heels into his ribs, and he would rush back up to second or third place nearer Diana and Romano. 

Achilles quickly figured out I was a dumb tourista who could barely stay in the saddle.  After he administered me several beatings I learned two things: one was to stand in the stirrups to take the weight off the posterior portion of my anatomy; the other was to rein him in a little so that his forward progress was not quite so frenetic.  Kick him in the ribs, thumpity, thumpity, thumpity, ow, ow, ow, drat, stand in the stirrups, woops, don’t fall off, pull back on the reins, back to second or third place.  Four or five minutes he would begin to slowly drift back toward the back of the pack with his nose against some other horse’s butt.  Kick him in the ribs again, thumpity, thumpity, thumpity, ow, ow, ow, drat, stand in the stirrups, woops, don’t fall off, pull back on the reins, back to second or third place. 

What I learned was this: Achilles wasn’t as stupid as he looked, I just didn’t know how to communicate with him.  When I learned to use the reins better, tugged right or left, reined him in, or gave him a little modest heel action, we got along fairly well.   The second half of the ride was better than the first.  Achilles wasn't learning anything, but at least I was. 

What I saw was this: Part of our journey was along the side of little river, rippling water over rocks and reeds, wild birds playing in the shallows.  We rode through part of the town, past a large hotel, through an empty lot, down the beach, and along the sand for several miles.  The horses preferred the cooler firmer wet sand closer to the water, but were skitterish when the waves washed up towards their hooves; still it was firmer footing than the deep sanded dunes further from the water’s edge.

When it was over, there was the simple fact that this was my first time riding a horse, I didn’t fall off, and I actually enjoyed it. Kick him in the ribs, thumpity, thumpity, thumpity, ow, ow, ow, drat, stand in the stirrups, woops, don’t fall off, pull back on the reins, back to second or third place.