Yeah, we rode the ponies in Ocean Shores. It's in preparation for an upcoming trail ride on the Colorado visit, wherein we will, with my family, all ride up into some Mt. Zirkel-adjacent gorgeousness on some horses for two hours, to return to a dinner of "healthy hotdogs (!!!)," "s'mores" and a cash bar. How many drinks will it take to soothe the aching tushies of the non-horseriding city mice? I look forward to telling you.
Now, riding horseback on the beach probably sounds ridiculously romantic and exciting. If not for the mandatory preparation, this would have been a trip I think we'd have been happy to skip. First, Ray had never ridden a horse below and he's not even crazy about dogs because when they are unpredictable, they can bite. And now he's on a horse's back (Her name is Kim. I rode Freckles). This and the extreme positivity at my banjo playing and the public dancing at the ball last year prove that he has gone over the deep end for me, as far as I'm concerned.
But the problem is that Ocean Shores is not a very romantic area to ride on. The beaches, such as they are, are lined with cheesy condos and hotels filled with cheesy people who perpetrate all kinds of redneckery, from doing donuts on the beach to holding bonfires and barbecues right next to their cars to flying those kites you can steer and buzzing everyone around. There are also hearty souls who get in the water to bathe. I was appalled by that, especially watching the kids go out. I mean, their parents must want them to be taken away by hypothermia to let them splash around when it's 53, overcast and gale-stormy out. The one-hour ride took us most of the way to the Quinault Beach Resort and Casino before turning around. And then there's the weather. It has been chilly and wet out here anyway, and the shore is far windier than is desirable. Ray's short shirtsleeves were not enough, and my bulky sweater did not manage to stop the wind from ripping into me. Not exactly a gentle, tress-tussling breeze. By the end of the hour, Ray and I were frozen solid and his hands were bright red and practically numb.
Did I mention horses don't like to get their feet wet? Every time a wave came up, we had to walk the horses around them. And only walk (and occasionally trot) them. No racing through the tide, sending up a magical sparkly spray. Oh well, we were too Donner-Party miserable to think about it.
Ray did great, and I managed to keep Freckles under control. The only damper is that our old nags had been making the shore-side run all day and were probably whipped. The horses at the ranch will likely be fresh. Well, we're ready now. I think.
To warm up we went to the Arcade and played air hockey. I beat Ray for the first time and then he beat me and took back bragging rights.
Yesterday we hit Lake Sylvia State Park, which has an extensive trail system for mountain biking (really for logging, but it's open to the public for non-motorized use). We hit a trail that went pretty steeply up about 5 miles, then turned around and zoomed down. There's no map available online, but the park kiosk has a lot of them. If I were a graphics person I'd try to turn it into a prettier and more elaborate version of the dittoed copy you get at the kiosk. It was a terrific ride, and since there was plenty of time left when we completed it, we took a brisk 5 mile or so hike. We were quite weary after that but we still had to hit the supermarket for dinner.
Luckily, when I headed to Starbucks to get my Sunday NY Times, I saw the Spooner Farms stand was open. I went to the Starbucks to get my paper (they didn't have any, the delivery didn't make it to Grays Harbor that day, and we ended up having to send Ray's dad Ray on a mission to get a copy in his neck of the woods) by bike and I booked it back to my car to get proper flat transportability. The Spooner berries are very tender and sweet, and red all the way down. They are not California abominations of sour crunchiness, and they only last 30 sublime days. Needless to say, I came back for the flat and plowed through about two pints through the course of the day, and there are still plenty left for my FMWs.
I also learned that I can play almost all Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Sr. songs on the banjo. With ease, chord-wise, so my finger picking is going to have to pick up some steam. I can also play that "Umbrella" song and the opening riff to "Stairway." Thanks to the Internet for putting chords and tabs up for almost any song you can think of. If only more than 75 percent of those chords were correctly noted.
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