CAMERANO (part V): That horse isn't just standing there

IT'S A GORGEOUS DAY OUT and the sun is beating steadily down on my back, while my jeans are already beginning to stick to my legs.

The scent of hay and manure wafts through the air and in the center of the stables at the Il Corbezzello ranch, the horses mill about, waiting to be assigned a rider.

Immediately upon entering, my friends and I are sized up by the ranch owner Eric and his assistant Donatella. Being only 5’3 and the second shortest of the group, I assume they will fit me with one of the slightly smaller horses. To my surprise - and horror - Eric walks towards the group with the reigns of the largest horse in one hand and his right index finger outstretched in my direction.

“How could they possibly expect me to get on that large creature?” I wonder.

The horse, who’s name I was never told, is a black and white spotted pinto. He is fitted with a tan, English saddle and a red saddle blanket underneath. Eric hoists me up and begins to fit my stirrups.

I am overwhelmed with fear. I recall my last encounter on a horse when, at the age of 7, I was nearly bucked off a pony named Ginger. Eric attempts to instruct me on the ways to control the horse. But he doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Italian.

I nod my head as he speaks hoping I’ll get the hang of it once on the trail.

Early on I am certain that my horse will throw me off. Recalling the stories told on the way to the ranch about people being thrown off of horses, I am overcome with a wave of uneasiness.

As we are leaving the stable, my horse sees another horse and they begin to nuzzle heads. Then they begin making strange grunting noises and all of a sudden everyone is looking at me. Eric is yelling something in Italian.

I am certain this is it.

To my relief, I regain control of the horse and am able to make my way on the trail. We spend the next hour riding through a vineyard and then up the side of the mountain. The dirt paths wind around the various hills and through long stretches of vineyards and thorny brush.

Except for a few false alarms the ride goes smoothly. At some points, the horse seems to be procrastinating. I assume it has a very bad case of ADD but I find out later from my friend Chas - who rides behind me - that my horse is actually stopping every few minutes to go to the bathroom.

- Berit Baugher