Well,
that_srg_kid and I definitely had an amazing Sunday visiting my friend Commander Sir Ronald Lewys' ranch, where he breeds and raises award-winning Peruvian show horses. We had been trying to arrange for a year and a half for me to come down and the stars finally aligned enough for us to make it so.
The idea was for me to have some fun re-learning to ride (my first time since the age of 7) and perhaps get the opportunity to have some pictures taken of Sharpe in the saddle - a rare chance to be a cavalryman instead of a Poor Bloody Infantryman. The morning did not bode well, since it was extremely windy, but lovely and warm. Luckily, by the time I was actually in the saddle, the wind had died down considerably.
So having been assigned a beautiful gelding with the intimidating name of "Diablo", I scrambled into the saddle and got to know my mount. One thing quickly became clear - he definitely thought very little of my riding skills and it took some time to convince him firmly that * I * was the one issuing commands. Once we had come to a (grudging) agreement on this point, he was a joy to ride, however, and we spent a little time in the corral just doing the basics.
Once I felt comfortable, it was time for
that_srg_kid to climb in the saddle for the first time in his life and go through the same process while I got garbed up. Then it was out through the gate (ducking to avoid being thunked in the head by the crosspiece) and onto the windswept moors of Yorkshire. Both the Commander and his son were in livery, and the 3 of us made a fine sight as we wended our way to around to some lovely open areas perfect for riding and being photographed (by
that_srg_kid with his trusty Canon). There was a field in a lower area where all signs of the 21st century disappeared and I had several shivery moments where it was just 3 mounted Royal Guards riding along on the King's business.
Very special, very magical.
We headed back to get some posed shots taken, then we clambered down to give the horses a breather while I got armored up. If you've never worn armor, my experience is that it is not the weight but the cumbersomeness and inflexibility that wears on you. I had experienced this on when I was on foot, but was unprepared for how much worse the awkwardness is on horseback. For one thing, you cannot bend at the waist, nor can you turn left or right very much. And with every jounce, the gorget digs into your neck and jaw. I now understand WHY the jousting knights tend not to wear the things if they plan on falling, and I have the utmost respect for anyone who makes his living by fighting in armor on horseback. You have to be very tough, and an extremely good horseman.
After several pictures were taken of me in armor and drawn sword, I decided to be brave and try getting a few shots of me carrying my trusty pike. This is more difficult than one might think, but I managed to do a credible job of holding it vertically, resting on my stirrup. By this time I was getting quite restless to do something a bit more - well, knightly. So - somewhat foolishly given my lack of training - I couched my "lance" and set off at a good clip straight at the photographer for an "action" shot.
That's right - I charged my own son wth a sharp, pointed spear.
For a photo.
Yes. I'm an actor. I never saw a camera I didn't like.
It was probably due more to Diablo's excellent skills than mine that I did not skewer the poor brave lad, who stood his ground long enough to snap some wonderful photos and then squeaked and dodged out of my way.
It was around then that Diablo, having had enough of the idiot on his back decided it was time to go back to the barn, whether I wanted to or not. The barn with the gate. And with the crosspiece that you have to duck to clear.
Did I mention that you cannot bend when wearing armor? And that you cannot duck your head when wearing a Burgonet helmet with a Gorget? I did? Oh good. Then you can see what is coming.
Alas, I did not - until it was too late. And thus it is that I now know why it is not a good idea to fall off a horse wearing a Gorget. Metal slamming into ones neck pinches - just a little.
On the other hand, the good news was that I WAS wearing a helmet - which I had plenty of time to think about as I was scraped off Diablo's back and hung - for quite a long time - on my back in midair. During the inordinately long time it took me to hit the ground I had ample time to flatten myself out as much as possible and use my arms to slam down and cushion the blow. Alright - perhaps "cushion" is too strong a word. Make it "minimally absorb some of the momentum picked up by my fully armored body as it hurtled to the hard, hard ground".
Long story short(er) : I was fine. A little winded, slightly sore, and more than a little embarrassed, but so happy to be back on terra firma that (after a quick mental inventory to ensure that no breakage had taken place) I burst out laughing and gave the shocked faces around me an enthusiastic "thumbs up" to prove that the only harm was to my dignity.
So I have a LOT of memories to add to my growing collection, and some terrific photos, courtesy of my son. If you're interested, you can see the best of them here:
s359.photobucket.com/albums/oo34/SRGMatt/ Oh, and yes - I DID get back on the horse. Immediately. Because that's what ya do.
Cheers, all!