Until last week, I hadn’t ridden a horse in 30 years — unless you include my experience last year with a hobby horse. I grew up in England, but like kids the world over, I dreamed of a life on the range. When I had the choice in P.E., I took horse riding instead of soccer, swimming or cricket.
So I was anxious when I signed up with Millbrook Trail Rides in Newark, about 1 1/2 hours southwest of Chicago. Two herniated discs and a concussion from flipping over the handlebars of a bicycle will do that to you. I checked Yelp, of course. No stories of riders dangling from the stirrups as the horse thunders across a field of corn stubble. No old nags so decrepit they crumple halfway through the ride.
The wonderful thing about horse country is … it’s not the city. No wailing sirens, no graffiti, no traffic. No noise at all, except for the chirping birds, the wind rustling the corn stalks and the distant whirring of a tractor. Depending on where you’re coming from, you might cross over the lazy Fox River as you make your way to the Millbrook stables.
Our posse on this day consisted of seven riders — one, a complete novice.
“It’s not like a car,” observed Nate Mehari, 21, of Wheaton, riding with his longtime friend, Effy Mulugeta, 21, of Romeoville. “I hope there is a way to control this guy.”
Our guide — the friendly, no-nonsense Beth King — had a ready answer: “Do not drop the reins. They are your steering wheel.”
I picked a one-hour guided trail ride, which costs $50 per person. This seemed about right for a near beginner like myself. Millbrook offers a range of adventures, including a “Fox River Trail Sunset Ride with Bonfire” for $100.
Before you mount, you are encouraged, but not required, to strap on a helmet. King offered only a few brief instructions, including this: “No whomping your horse like a cowboy.” We were told that horses occasionally stop to eat (which is OK) and that some horses do not like to be too close to each other.
Lulu would be my steed for the day. Lulu, it turns out, was not a horse but a mule and a bit of a jokester. Every time I tried to mount her, she’d move a step away. When I finally got my leg over, I felt the saddle sizzle beneath me (it was 90 degrees outside). And only when you’re in the saddle do you realize that the thing beneath you is, more or less, 1,000 pounds of pure muscle.
And then we set off. The ride cut through a cornfield, crossed a shallow creek glistening in the sunlight and wound through sun-dappled woods. So even in 90-degree heat, shade was always just around the bend.
If you’re looking for a white-knuckle adventure, this trail ride isn’t for you.
“Our horses are very well trained. They understand the job. That’s why people don’t need experience to be able to ride them,” said Meredith Gauer, who owns the stables with her father, Ed Sleezer.
The horses didn’t even break into a trot. And they stopped occasionally to chew grass, poop (in copious amounts) and pee.
“It’s a little nerve-wracking,” Mehari said at one point, sitting lopsided in the saddle and struggling to get one of his feet back in the stirrup.
It’s really not nerve-wracking. About 15 minutes in, the polite chitchat gave way to the silence of absorbing nature. I found my mind drifting. I wasn’t thinking about what groceries I had to pick up for dinner, or newspaper deadlines, or the coming battle to get my eldest kid to practice his violin. I was 10 years old again, in my bedroom on the top floor of a skinny Victorian house in London. Rain pelted the window panes, but I was safe and warm in bed, reading Richard Adams’ beloved “Watership Down,” the epic adventures of a group of talking rabbits.
And then, too soon, we were heading back up the gentle rise to the stables.
I dismounted and thanked King for her help and patience.
I asked Gauer what goes through her mind when she’s riding.
“Every once in a while you’ll have a customer who stresses you out, but for the most part, even for us guides, we get to relax and enjoy the quiet of nature and rhythm of the horses,” she said. “Being on a horse kind of forces you to be present, if only for a minute … Being present is reminding us of being a kid because we didn’t have all these thoughts riddling us.”
To learn more about Millbrook, go to millbrooktrailrides.com. This story is part of a series highlighting new skills you might want to explore.
