SIT LIGHT IN THE SADDLE
Have you been on a mountain trail? In the kind of mountains that tower to the sky and wear white caps all year long? Where the clouds drape like a wedding dress and tail off the slopes like the veil? I’ve heard these trails called “foot trails”. I’ve always thought they were called this because—well you travel on them afoot.
The first time I ventured on one of these “foot” trails on horse back and we came to an open hillside with a rock slide and saw the narrow trail cutting a groove through a jumble of rocks on the side of a steep slope, I realized it was so named because the trail is barely a “foot” wide. And I was on a 1,300 pound animal with a spread of about two feet between his big pancake shaped hooves.
“And you want me to go across that!” I yelled at my friend who was confidently heading towards the rock slide.
“Just trust your horse,” he said, “give him his head and sit light in the saddle.” That was all. Nothing else. Nothing like “these animals are sure-footed; they can go across a mountain slope with no problem, blindfolded.”
“Shouldn’t I get off and lead him?” Was my next question to his back as he and his big horse drew closer to the precarious rocks.
“Nope, safer to stay on.”
Now I had been around horses all my life riding since before I could walk, but I guess you could say I was a flat-land rider. Oh when I was a kid I rode all over the gentle ridges and timbered hills of our place north of Spokane WA, and even in Alaska where the mountains are way too rugged to take horse into, I rode in fairly flat country. Nothing like these Montana mountains, steep rugged, rocky and seemingly not horse friendly.
However my friend did not think that was true. I held my horse back and watched as his gelding clomped calmly across the rock slide.
“Well,” I told Sparky, “if he can do it so can you. After all you’re a Morgan, strong, sure footed, calm and experienced on mountain trails. Right?”
For an answer Sparky stepped out confidently towards the rock slide. At first I watched his head, ears perked forward; stride long and sure, eager to catch up with the other horse. Then I looked down. Oh my goodness! Rocks, no make that boulders, were jumbled down, waaay down the steep slope, tumbling almost into the creek far below. Trees lined the small creek which was so shallow it would not break a fall if you stayed alive that long, which is doubtful. With never a hesitation, never a stumble, Sparky sauntered across that rocky, narrow trail as if it was a foot-path through a groomed golf course.
“Okay,” I called to my friend up ahead, “nothin’ to it!”

Many years and mountain trails later, John and I bought an outfitting business in the back country of the Bitterroot Mountains along the Montana-Idaho boarder. The trails in this rugged wilderness made that trail up Dry Creek crossing rock slides and winding up to Sacagawea Peak near Plains look like a walk in the park. Steep mountain slopes which seemed impossible for a horse had switch backs so tight you were nearly walking on the back of the horse below you. Muddy slopes that never dried up in the few weeks they were not covered by snow, sheer drops, deep canyons and yes, huge rock slides were some of the obstacles the trails traversed. Not to mention horse-belly deep, ice cold, rushing creeks to cross.
On our first scouting trip into that high country John and I were novice packers. He rode Rocket (now that’s reassuring) I rode big Sunny and we packed Blue. Blue in his beginning trips as a pack horse was, to put it mildly a pain in the butt! He did everything he shouldn’t, like dragging behind until he nearly pulled me out of the saddle or nipping the butt of the horse in front of him, acting crazy running around camp when he should have been grazing or crashing the pack saddle into one of our horses. We came up with the brilliant idea of letting him follow along on his own. He wouldn’t go anywhere, surely.
Breathlessly, without a thought of Blue who was supposedly behind me, I watched the trail ahead and sat light in my saddle as we rode across a very steep open, grassy mountain side. It was a long ways to the bottom and nothing to stop a horse if he should fall and roll. Nothing to it as long as we stayed on the trail right? A walk in the park. Just trust my horse. Give him his head and sit light in the saddle.
About half way across I heard a noise and looked up. There was Blue nonchalantly strolling across the slope directly above me, dipping his head now and then to grab some grass. It was so steep I was treated to a very good view of his underside. Then he trotted across the mountainside to catch up with Rocket, his pack bouncing and rocking but, thankfully, holding tight.
It was then that I realized just how sure footed a horse is and how adapt they are for those rugged mountain slopes and how much I did not have to worry about them falling. But still you hear stories of horses falling off trails and tumbling to the bottom of the canyon. You know it can happen.
Not long after this we had some clients on this same trail for a summer fishing trip and were going across this same open hillside. It had been a late spring and even though it was July the snow had barely gone off the high country. Some places the horses were walking through snow. Not only was the trail muddy going across this slope but the trail was sluffing off in places. So you trust your horse to stay on the trail but what happens when the trail is no longer there? When the ground gives out from under their hooves?
Our clients were a man and his daughter of 11 who had some limited riding experience. On the way up to the trail head the little sweetheart asked if there were outhouses, “I can use an outhouse now that Dad took me camping where there was one.” And if we had to ride down hills. Oh, oh!
“Umm, no outhouses I’m afraid, but there are trees.” Eyes widen. “And yesss there are hills,” I told her, “but all you have to do is trust your horse, give him his head and balance in the saddle.” She took to the great adventure with her daddy like a horse to green pastures. As we rode across that treacherous slope with the sides of the trail falling off beneath the horses hooves and clumps of dirt and grass rolling 300 yards to the bottom, she showed no fear.
I, on the other hand, was praying like crazy that her horse didn’t fall and I was sitting light, very light in the saddle, in fact all my weight was on the uphill stirrup. I wanted badly to get off since surely it would be safer in this situation to lead your horse. But with that little girl confidently trusting her horse as he scrambled for footing and grinning all the way, how could I do that?

One more story and we’ll get to the point. Sunny, my beautiful, powerful gelding had cut his leg badly on barbed wire. It was a hind leg at the hock and wasn’t healing very quickly. When it came time that summer to pack hay and feed into our two summer camps on high mountain lakes, we decided to use him as a pack horse since the vet said it would help to exercise the leg. I rode Blue, who was a trail-wise horse by now and much better to get along with, but still he was not my Sunny. I thought about switching saddles and riding Sunny on the trip out from the first camp, but decided against it.
The trail at one point, after going across rock slides, open slopes and sheer drops, angled down the side of a timbered canyon. The slope below us was steep with a couple hundred yards to the creek bottom.
Having become used to the precarious trails by now, I was relaxed as I breathed in the tangy scent of fir, cedar and larch trees and listened to the surrounding birdsong. Always when we were on the trail in the high country, the world flew away. Our thoughts were only on survival, taking care of the clients and our horses and outsmarting the fish or elk. Nothing more. Time, except for when the sun rose and when it set, had no meaning. It never failed, every time we headed up the timbered, quiet trail for the first time I could feel the cares and stresses of life slipping off my back like a heavy winter coat. Peace would flutter down like a parakeet and perch on my shoulders.
All of a sudden all that relaxed calmness plummeted to the canyon floor when Sunny, who I was leading, stepped off the trail. His injured hind leg went off and he didn’t have the strength to push himself back up. With an empty pack saddle he went down and rolled. Very quickly, before I had time to breath, he was down. Sitting light in the saddle or not, I doubt there was time to jump off.
He rolled once and came up against a log, lying on his back. Like I said, he was a big horse, probably weighing close to 1500 pounds and all that weight now rested on his lungs. He gasped in air, groaning with each labored breath.
“Do something,” I yelled as I jumped off Blue, “he won’t last long like that.” It was obvious he couldn’t roll up the slope and he was jammed against the log on the downside.
John calmly went to his horse and pulled out the small chainsaw he always carried in his scabbard. Calmly he choked it and did whatever you have to do when starting a chain saw and pulled the starter cord. Several times.
“Come on! Come on! start!” I prayed frantically. And about collapsed when it did. Calmly he began to cut the log right next to Sunny’s head.
I was a basket case, totally panicked. I ran around picking up sticks and tried to talk soothingly to the groaning horse who never moved a muscle or blinked an eye. In fact I covered his eyes with my hands to keep out saw dust.
Then John cut the other end of the log, while I continued to bustle around doing, I’m not sure what. Then John rolled the log away. I had no idea what would happen, in fact I envisioned Sunny rolling to the bottom of the canyon. But the horse who had lain motionless while a loud chainsaw was roaring right next to his ear, just calmly rolled over and stood up, pack saddle and all.
Then he began to eat. I was still throwing sticks out of the way clearing a path back to the trail.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I laid there in the small camping trailer at base camp and shook as I pictured myself underneath that big horse. There are stories. It can happen. Fear filled my heart like I had never felt before and I dreaded the trail we would have to take in the morning back up that mountain. I prayed but the fear was still there in the morning.
When I told John about it he said, “So are you just going to give up? Quit riding in the mountains? Or are you going to trust God?”
Talk about putting it out there. Plain and simple, I had a choice, give up or keep going and trust God.
Our lives are like those mountains, steep hillsides, sheer cliffs, huge boulders tumbling down the mountain until there’s a whole mountainside of jumbled rocks, slippery slopes, trails sluffing off, deep mud holes, rushing ice cold streams and horses that are less than perfect. There might be a big tree blocking the trail (thus the chainsaw) or snow drifts in the way, or possibly a bear ambling around the bend.
The weather can be wet or cold or snowy. Accidents can happen, incidents, like fire in tents do come along. (I’ll be writing about some of those down the road) Life is hard, things happen, tough things, ugly things, dark things, scary things. Like a horse laying on his back gasping for breath. Or worse, way worse, he could have been dead with a broken neck at the bottom of the canyon. With John or me lying still on the hillside.
So what do we do when the going is really rough? When we’re scared to get out of bed and face another day? When the trail gives out, when our horse falls? You know what John said when I told him I could have been under that horse? He said, “Well you weren’t.”
We get back on the horse and we ride. That’s what I did that next day. I sat light in the saddle going up that trail and my heart was pounding in my ears. When the trail got tough and the going was steep and muddy, I trusted my horse and I gave him his head. I looked up and I sang.

Trust takes tenacity. To trust no matter what happens. All the time. It’s a moment by moment choice. The trail changes every minute with twists, bends and steep slopes. Sometimes the slope is very slippery and my horse might fall. It can happen. Fear can keep me from doing what I want to do. Life gets tough, seems impossible, gets down right nasty and I just want to burrow under the covers and stay there, forever. I have a choice, give up or get going. Don’t give up, don’t let fear stop you. Get back in the saddle. Keep going.
“Truly my soul waits silently for God, from Him comes my salvation. He only is my Rock and my salvation. He is my defense. I will not be greatly moved!” Ps.62:1-2
Trust takes exertion. Lots of effort all the time. Choosing not to worry, calling out to Him when worry comes or the trail gets treacherous. Saying I trust You God to take care of it. Every time. Every single time you start to worry or fret put it in His hands. When you’re faced with an impossible cliff, a sheer drop off, or a sluffing trail, give it to Him and leave it there. Or put it right back. Into His hands. Look up. Don’t look at the trail. Keep your eyes on the sky!
“Be anxious for nothing. Pray about everything, and give thanks.” Pil. 4:6
Trust takes acceptance. The trail is going to be there. The mountains are rugged. The weather can be tough. Sometimes it rains for days and to stay dry you have to huddle in a two man tent. Sometimes your way is blocked by a tree or snow drift and you either cut it out of the way or take another trail. Or go back the way you came. Accidents happen. Horses fall. Snow piles up. That’s the way it is up there in the high country. It’s the way of the wilderness. That’s the way of life. God orchestrates our lives, if we are His children. Everything that happens to us comes through His hands. Nothing touches us that He does not allow, if we are following His trail. But if He allows it, there is a good reason. He loves us and works all things for our good, if we love Him. He has plans for us, plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us a hope and a future. Sometimes those plans entail slippery slopes and mud holes that bog us down. Sometimes we lose the trail and grope in the dark, feeling out every step or crawling and clawing our way up the rock cliff. Sometimes life gets dark, but like Job we have to say, “will we accept the good and not the bad from Him?” Whatever comes, good or bad, small problem or huge, rain or shine, trust Him. Rely completely on His strength and deliverance. Yes I could have been under that horse, but God kept me safe. Just trust in your horse. Trust God every step of the way, finding shelter from the storms under His mighty wings, leaning on Him when the winds howl.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths.” Prov. 3:5-6
Trust takes praise and thanksgiving. Even when to praise is the hardest thing of all. Being thankful for something is accepting a situation and saying if God allows it, its okay. When we praise God we put words to our faith. Grumbling complaining, resenting a situation cripples trust and steals joy. When I grumble or complain am I not saying that God doesn’t know what He’s doing? How can I be happy about the good times yet complain about the hard times? When my Father God orchestrates it all.
I can’t hold the reins tight. I have to give my horse his head to pick his way over the rough spots. I can’t squeeze my legs around him, I have to sit light in the saddle ready to move and balance when I need to. If I grumble and complain or fight God, I block His power. I hamper His movements. When I praise Him or thank Him I free Him to work His way in my life.
The all powerful, all mighty God of the universe, who holds the stars in place, holds me in His hands. ME. IN. HIS. HANDS. He will never let me go. My existence, my life is in His control. IF I give Him rein. I must put all my troubles, all my cares, all my fears, all my life in His hands. Every time I doubt. Every time I fret. Every time I worry. Every time I fear. And I must praise. Praise loosens my squeeze.
Roll your life on Him. Be ready to move when He moves and able to balance when He changes direction. Keep your eyes on Him, not the situation. Thank Him. Praise Him.
“I will praise You, O, Lord with my whole heart. I will tell of all your marvelous works. I will be glad and rejoice in You. I will sing praise to Your name O Most High!” Ps. 9:1
Trust God, give Him His head. Sit light in the saddle, look up and sing.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord and whose hope is in the Lord. For he shall be like a tree that is planted by the waters which spreads out it’s roots into the river. And he will not fear when heat comes but it’s leaves will be green. And he will not be anxious in a year of drought nor will he cease from yielding fruit.” Jeremiah 17:7-8