Of Firsts and Foodie Horses

Iceland was what I like to call the time of “firsts.” These firsts are defined as things that I always wanted to do, but never got around to doing them.

I have never ice-skated before this trip, and I also haven’t been on horseback either. I remember signing up for the horseback riding adventure before we even left on the trip. I genuinely thought that I was taking a big risk; would I do okay on a horse despite never being on one?

However, I was assured by the fact that the lava tour that we had signed up for was meant for beginners, and that many of my fellow travelers have also either never rode a horse before, or haven’t rode one since childhood, so we would all be in the same boat.

The day that we participated in the horse tour was scheduled to be our last day of being in Iceland, as this was our free day after our six-day guided tour. In our tour, we explored several amazing scenic highlights and learned several interesting pieces of information about them.

As we progressed through the trip, I enjoyed experiencing the Northern Lights, waterfalls, beaches, a lava tour, and even our glacier hike. I did my best to focus on these experiences, all the while being excited (and nervous) about the horseback ride. I did not at all regret taking the risk to sign up (after all, I’d definitely regret it if I did not), but that didn’t stop me from imagining scenarios in which I would fall straight off of my horse and end up injured.

I woke up feeling very tired on the day that me and the smaller group of us were to go on our horseback riding adventure. That was to be expected, of course. I was never a morning person, and that fact was emphasized throughout the trip’s entirety, as I always had a hard time getting up for what would end up being a day’s worth of unforgettable activities.

As the tiredness wore off throughout breakfast and our bus ride there, those feelings of trepidation returned once again. Once at the stables (and they did smell very…hors-ey, by the way), we listened to instructions regarding how to get onto the horses. I was worried that I’d completely forget what I was doing. We were told to put all our belongings on shelves (which, sadly, included my small purse that I carried everywhere) and then were instructed to go into the back room to put on the large bodysuits that we would be wearing.

At this point, we were then told we could meet the horses. I told the guide that I never rode a horse and that I was nervous, so she assured me that she would give me a very sweet one. She walked me to the horse, and helped me handle his harness so I could take him outside.

I had trouble with that, and mainly that’s because my horse, like me, was such a foodie! He would stop in order to eat grass and hay off of the floor, and whenever I would try to move him, he’d just want to continue eating (he also did try to eat my jacket, and the guide explained to me that he was assuming that I had treats). I was eventually told to just keep moving, and he’d follow, so I did just that.

My first challenge involved getting onto the horse. My horse was fairly larger than those of my travel companions, and I was the shortest of us all (5’0). When the guide finally got around to helping me onto my horse, I tried following her instructions. It took me more tries than I could count, and I was genuinely thinking of just telling everyone to go ahead without me. I gave it one last go, though, and I was on my horse! I was in genuine disbelief that I’d made it, but after all of our adventures, should I really have been surprised?

I was completely gutted as to why I did not ask this earlier (likely because of how nervous I was), but I finally asked what the name of my horse was. I was told his name was Erkney (I’m not sure if I wrote that right. It’s a traditional Icelandic name, so I’m writing it here how it was pronounced). For a while, I kept overthinking about how the ride was going to go, and panicked internally about whether or not I’d be able to control him. I tried to keep my sounds low; if I screamed, it would upset the horses.

When we did eventually move, we found out that all the horses formed a long line, as if they’ve done this before. The guides assured us that this is their job and that they knew what to do, which was really what helped me relax and enjoy the scenery (although the horses did keep… biting each other… on our ride. No idea what that means). The only real con at this moment was how cold it is.

We did stop to take beautiful pictures, and my guide had to corral my horse because once again he kept eating the grass like the foodie he is. After admiring the scenery and talking with some of my friends, going faster as we headed back to the stables was discussed. I was horrified, but since so many others were trying, I decided to as well (classic peer pressure).

I was instructed in particular to use a little stick to help guide my horse along, as he was one of the slower ones. As we moved faster, I was very startled. I had trouble keeping my balance, and nearly fell off of my horse numerous times. “This was definitely a first,” I told myself.

The thing about these ‘first-time’ experiences is that although they may seem scary before you do them (or even during them, as this one was), they make for the best stories to tell. And nothing beats the feeling of satisfaction afterwards, because you feel like you accomplished something.

Were my hands completely numb after finally dismounting my horse? Yes.

Was I overwhelmed? Yes.

Was I proud? Also yes.