There is a moment, right when you mount a horse for the first time, where you realize just how big they are. I had seen other people do it, watched videos, and imagined what it would be like about a hundred times, but nothing prepared me for the reality of sitting on top of a thousand-pound animal and thinking to myself “wow, that’s high.”
My first horseback riding lesson was a rollercoaster of nerves, excitement, and the sweet smell of horse manure that seems to seep into everything. I had been in a barn hundreds of times—I worked mucking the stalls of my neighbor’s farm in high school, so I somewhat knew my way around. As I learned about leading my horse, Olivia, and the rule of staying on the lefthand side (which, as a lefty, is convenient), I found my mind wondering on an idea: what would a Viking have made of this?
After doing some stall cleaning at the barn (and signing a stack of forms), my instructor introduced me to Olivia, a white paint mare and brown markings who possesses both an abundance of patience and bit of stubbornness (which could be curbed with treats). She was calm, and indifferent to my noviceness, which I am incredibly grateful for.
I’m rather humbled to say that my grandiose jousting dreams start here, with me learning how to put a halter on Olivia. Hopefully, in a few months, I’ll ride in a tournament with a lance in hand. For now, though, I’m just trying to ensure that I don’t fall off during a canter—I have a LOT to learn.
While I was trying to remember the basics of steering and stopping, I couldn’t stop thinking that I was participating in something ancient.
When it finally came time to mount, my heart was racing. With the aid of the mounting block, I swung my leg over. The world looked very different from up there. Olivia felt powerful and solid, and I must admit I was momentarily terrified. After a brief break so I could collect my nerves, we walked some slow laps around the barn—it was incredible.
While I was trying to remember the basics of steering and stopping, I couldn’t stop thinking that I was participating in something ancient. There are all sorts of ideas today for riders, trainers, vets, and others about the best ways to connect to horses, but for thousands of years, that connection has been central to the very existence of man, and that is no exception for the Norse people and the Vikings.
Horses were not only a mode of transportation for the Norse–they were also powerful symbols woven into their daily live as well as their mythology. The gods rode magnificent horses–the Allfather, Odin, had an eight-legged steed named Sleipnir that was so powerful, he could gallop through the air and over the sea. The Tjängvide image stone highlights the connection between the gods and their steeds. The stone c. 700-900 AD depicts a rider, perhaps Odin, being welcomed to Valhalla.
My inaugural lesson ended sooner than I had hoped. While dismounting, I got my boot stuck in a stirrup and almost ate the dirt. Following that brief embarrassment, we untacked Olivia, and I thanked her for the lesson. I merely sat there–she did the work.
With shaky legs, sore muscles and the bliss of my first lesson, I immediately began counting down the days to my next. I think I’m beginning to understand why the Vikings were buried with their horses. They aren’t just animals; they are companions and links to something bigger; something truly historic—and after one lesson with Olivia, I understand that just a little bit more.
Further Readings
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Sleipnir
