My return home did not unfold as I had expected it to- I was lucky enough to spend time with some close friends and the weather was pretty if not insufferably hot. My family and I abandoned our front row seats on Coronation Hill Friday afternoon for the trees at the edge of the hill in order to avoid medical emergencies, and there were plenty of those during the ceremony (a woman was taken from the bleacher seats on the hill to the awaiting ambulance via golf cart). The Fireman's Parade was as loud as ever. It's official- my head was pounding from the sirens ten firetrucks in. Thank goodness we live on the parade route and could retreat quickly. After a nearly sleepless night on the couch (due to the arrival of a "friend" that decided I didn't currently have enough drama in my life- a complete and total lie, by the way), I dragged myself to the jousting tourney, which apparently had been cancelled. Only the fences lining the route were present. So I traipsed back through the busy town by myself to accompany my sister as she shopped at the craft fairs. I had seriously considered getting up extremely early that Saturday morning and returning to school- I no longer had any desire to remain in my hometown as I realized that running from the chaos of life would accomplish nothing. The drama would follow me if I ran, as my friend illustrated with his arrival. If I had left, though, I wouldn't be able to relate the excitement of my fall horseback ride with one of my closest friends to you, and this story is one worth telling.
Sunday morning, my close friend and I clambered out of bed at 6:30 am to go horseback riding-- the only thing either of us would willingly get up that early for. We arrived at the barn by 7:30-8ish and proceeded to catch our lovely horses, warm them up with a few circuits each, and then saddled them up for the ride. We decided to switch saddles for the day (something we're prone to doing on occasion) as I'm considering buying her English saddle (something I desperately need more practivce with) and she wanted to ride in my Western one. After a few minor difficulties with attempting to mount our horses (I'm not one of those riders that can take a flying leap at a bareback horse and land magically in the right spot, so there was plenty of skittering around as well as saddle-sliding due to my pony's fat belly) we left the farm, a pack of dogs at our heels (our boarding lady has a lovely pack of dogs that run with us when we trail ride).
The day was beautifully clear, the leaves were gorgeous, and the horses were well-behaved. To understand the italics, suffice it to say that my friend and I have only had a small handful of rides that didn't involve one of us falling off, being thrown, or a horse getting panicked and/or injured. Even my ornery pony Kit was riding on a long rein with her head low, the perfect western pleasure exhibition. I brought along my relatively new Canon Rebel- it's third adventure on horseback (the first being in Costa Rica!!)- determined that I'd get some amazing pictures. Everything was splendid....
Until the dog pack flushed one of the biggest coyotes I've ever seen around our town. The coyote appeared soundlessly ahead of the horses on the road. It took my friend and I a few seconds before realizing that it wasn't one of our dogs. He loped off nonchalantly, and the pack pursued him. The horses seemed to take his appearance well.... it was the appearance of two ATVs from behind them that they didn't appreciate.
The drivers didn't slow down for the horses, which we had stopped hoping that the ATVs would go by slowly so we could keep them under control. Instead, they waited until they were level with us to slow down, and even then it was only because my friend and her horse ended up toppled over in the ditch at the edge of the road. I heard my friend scream as they went in, and I remember seeing them leaned into the ditch, against the rocky side as my own horse began to panic. At that point, all I could think was, "I can't ride English!! Sit straight, sit straight! Don't fall off!! Protect the camera!" Kit pounced all over the road, backing up, trying to turn left, where I could see my friend (whose horse was bucking and galloping down the road toward home at this point) holding her right elbow, and then turn right, facing the ATV riders who were frozen in horror, their engines still running. I took that opportunity to use some "perhaps" offensive language indicating that the drivers' presence was not at all appreciated. It was a wonder that Kit didn't think I was screaming the expletives at her, but she calmed down as soon as they gunned their engines and took off. I was able to dismount and get to my friend (who was banged up but okay for those wondering!). I retrieved her horse with the help of treats and we walked both horses back to the barn. Thankfully none, horses included, were seriously injured, and this was the scene as we left: our babies saying goodbye.
A perfect end to an interesting weekend. So I returned to school the next morning, driving through tornado warnings (something that doesn't happen often in West Virginia), just in time for midterm week. As a super-senior with a serious project (I'm writing two short stories, a novella, and an academic paper discussing my writing process) that my graduation relies upon, the idea of already being halfway through the semester is terrifying. So I went through this final midterm week spitting out papers, studying for exams, and reading countless reading assignments for my literature classes. Thursday evening, after the worst of my class work was already handed in, I was told that a close acquaintance from middle school had died unexpectedly. The idea of any 22-year-old losing his or her life is tragic, and this case was no exception, particularly because of the battle this person fought at the time that I was friends with him. It was heartbreaking, and though I hadn't talked to him in a very long time, I cried for him and for his family that evening.
Friday dawned, the last day of midterms. At this point, anyone who I didn't care for that happened to cross my path was likely to be snapped at, which was exactly the case on my way to my last class of the day. I just apologized about that today and then was rudely surprised when I realized I couldn't begin to explain to this person, who until recently had been a very special person in my life, what a toll that week had been on me. I couldn't even tell someone that I had once told my life story to that a friend had died. But wait! The week wasn't over yet!
In the afternoon, I got a call from my mother informing me that the scenic train, the biggest money-maker in our little town of Elkins, had been hit by a logging truck while carrying passengers. Last count was one fatality. By the time I went to DC with my English Honors Society to see a play, I was completely worn out and in desperate need of Fall Break.
That took place this past weekend. I had the house to myself from Thursday through Sunday because my mother took a group of coworkers to New York City, a trip I was supposed to have gone on if life hadn't derailed this semeseter. I ended up writing, catching up on homework, catching up with the same horseback-riding, best friend, and catching up on my dose of "scare the wits out of me" horror movies ('tis the season).
Sunday, I took the opportunity to explore a river in Barbour County that would be the setting of the close of my novella. The town is called Arden, and if anyone knows anything about the river that runs through that community, it's that the Tygart River has claimed far too many lives over the years. The danger had always intrigued me, hence the reason for using it in my novella, but I had never seen the wretched river with my own eyes. There was something eerie about the sign that said, "No parking within 10 feet of the river, next 3 miles," and the way the rocks protruded out of the deep pools of water... Anyone familiar with this place may have heard of "Party Rock," the place that I believe has been the site of the most fatalities. "When the river is up," my friend told me, "you can see the whirpools." The currents were deadly, and with a solid rock bottom and nothing but boulders to cling to, anyone caught in the rapids wouldn't stand a chance. There's something powerfully humbling about being in the presence of nature and realizing it's dangerous, realizing the fact that it can and has taken life away, that it was completely indiscriminate. After taking a few photos, we high-tailed it out of there, leaving the silent killer behind. (I say silent because the water was low, and it was extremely creepy to realize that this force of nature, as calm as it seemed, had been the cause of so many deaths.)
So now, I'm officially back from Fall Break, made it through midterms with flying A's :), and I'm more determined to fix the issues that have cropped up in my life as well as finish my novella. When I returned home this time, unlike when I arrived during the Festival, I decidedly was not running from my problems. I was taking a break from the drama, the chaos, and the schoolwork in order to analyze my priorities and set a few things straight. We'll see how that turns out as the second half of my final semester unfolds....
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