A month ago I went for a ride with my friend Abby Williams. For the next two weeks I would like to share with you an account of that ride that I wrote in my journal:

Abby arrived at the barn shortly before 8 this morning. Cyra and PJ were fed and in their stalls. Cyra is my Clydesdale cross mare, round, short (she’s crossed with a Newfoundland pony) and very predictable. PJ is my big, 16.2 hand, 1,200 pound Tennessee Walker gelding who is a very athletic spirited horse.

I took Cyra out and began grooming her. Abby did the same with PJ. When Cyra was groomed and her feet picked out, I was ready to ride. I never ride Cyra in a saddle and she already had the rope-riding halter I made for her some time back. PJ took a little longer as Abby rides him in a western roping saddle and a bitted bridle.

When we were both mounted, we headed down the driveway. We took a left on Woodman Road toward the private section of the road. It was a sunny crisp morning. I had on a winter hat, scarf and my long underwear. While many leaves had fallen, many trees were still in full autumn color. We crossed over Talking Brook and took a left up one of Norumbega’s steepest trails. I was in the lead. I grabbed a handful of Cyra’s mane. I held on as she scrambled up the steep trail. Her big unshod hooves dug into the leaf litter as we climbed up the slope with PJ behind us. At the top we paused. We were 75 feet above Talking Brook. It was sparkling in the morning sun. The sound of the water tumbling over the rocky stream-bed mixed with the labored breathing of our two mounts as they caught their breath after the climb. It was a spectacular sight. My heart swelled with joy. I was out in the woods I loved. I was on my mare that I loved even more.

We began our descent to the stream’s edge. Our horses picked their way over the rocky trail. I looked over at the brook and smiled. I could see the many cairns that I had built in the stream over the years. I remembered with fondness the building of each one. Even though they were just rocks, they were filled with my spirit. I consider them my friends. We passed by the tree house I built in the 1970s. In its prime it had two rooms, a porch and a roof deck. Now it was a ruin, falling out of the big pine it was built in. We passed by the chapel where my parent’s urns rest. I thought of them. I hoped their spirits saw me riding by. We continued on, climbing once again until we were on top of Swallow’s Cliff. Cyra stopped. She sometimes does this to take in the sights, sounds and smells of the world around her. I was happy to indulge her. This was one of my favorite places in Norumbega’s woods. On the other side of the stream was a stand of hemlocks, dark and quiet. On our right side was a stand of beech, maple, ash, poplar and birch. It was full of color and light. Both were equally beautiful in their own ways. Content with our rest, I clucked to Cyra. We continued on with Abby and PJ behind us. Abby and I shared our gratitude at being out deep in the woods on two fine horses who seemed to be enjoying the outing as much as we were.

We continued threading our way through the woods until we came to “The Birthday Pine.” Standing around 80 feet tall with a diameter of nearly 30 inches, it is straight as an arrow. I came here on my birthday 30 years ago with our one-week-old son to show him this magnificent tree for the first time. As I told this story to Abby, I could vividly remember that day. I marveled at all that had happened in our lives in the intervening years.

Next stop on this tour of my past was the campsite we used to frequent when our son and daughter were young. We would pack our food, tent, sleeping bags and dogs and hike out here for a mini-wilderness adventure. Even though it was only a 20-minute hike, it seemed as though we were far from civilization. As Abby and I rode past the old fire ring, memories flooded back from those long ago days. To be continued…

Michael Fralich lives at Norumbega Farm in New Gloucester.