In November 2015, I volunteered in Nepal for a couple of weeks. During that time, I fell in love with the country and extended my stay by an extra week to connect with the people and explore more of Pokhara and Nepal.
One evening, the topic of paragliding, a popular activity in Pokhara, came up in conversation. The Hidden Paradise Hotel and Guest House is a favorite spot for thrill-seekers. While I, being more grounded, couldn't quite muster excitement for the risky activity, I was nudged and questioned why I wouldn't want to try it. I explained, "It's just not my thing. I ride horses and have done so for over 30 years, and I find joy in the connection and thrill that horseback riding brings. That's my thing." The hotel's owner, Laxman, asked me, "Do you want to go horseback riding then?" Excitedly, I replied, "Yes!" A few days later, Laxman arranged for another guest, Missy, and me to ride horses owned by his friend at the Pokhara Pony Farm.
I personally own three horses kept at a stable outside Seattle, WA, USA. My favorite is Henry, a Grey Thoroughbred Gelding, who I affectionately call my "Unicorn" due to his color resembling one and his ability to uplift me after a bad day. Henry was abused during his time racing, resulting in post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I've worked extensively with him to overcome his triggers, and our bond has grown immensely over the years.
Navigating the narrow thoroughfare, a sense of vulnerability pervaded our small procession as vehicles of all shapes and sizes whizzed past, engines roaring in discordant harmony. Yet, amidst the cacophony, Zuma remained composed, his demeanor unwavering, a testament to his resilience.
As we rounded a bend, a solitary figure emerged — a blue truck, its imposing presence bearing down upon us. Instinctively, I steered Zuma toward the relative safety of the roadside, but fate had other plans. The truck's wheel clipped Zuma's hind leg with a sickening crunch, sending us tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of dust and debris.
Amidst the chaos, time seemed to stand still as I lay there, Zuma's agonized whinnies echoing in the air, his once-majestic form now contorted in pain. A second truck, its approach ominous, threatened to compound our misfortune, its headlights piercing the gathering gloom. Yet, in a twist of fate, it screeched to a halt, sparing us from further calamity.
With trembling hands, I reached out to Zuma, his shattered leg a grim testament to the fragility of life. As Tim and Razu rushed to my side, their faces etched with concern, a sense of helplessness engulfed us. With each passing moment, the weight of our predicament bore down, casting a pall over our once-promising excursion.
In the midst of our despair, Tim sprang into action, his voice a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. With each frantic phone call, he sought solace in the promise of assistance, his unwavering determination a testament to the bonds that bound us together.
As we awaited the arrival of help, I cradled Zuma in my arms, his labored breaths a haunting reminder of our shared ordeal. In the stillness of that moment, amidst the wreckage of our shattered dreams, I found solace in the knowledge that, despite the trials that lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our resolve to see Zuma through to the end.
As I stood there on the roadside, the events of that morning spun through my mind like a whirlwind. Just moments ago, I had been riding high on the joy of working with Zuma, the troubled yet promising pony, hoping to positively impact his life. But now, as I looked at him standing there with his broken leg, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks.
The air was thick with tension as I tried to comfort Zuma, my heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. The image of the truck's wheel clipping his hind leg replayed in my mind, each time more vivid and haunting than the last. And yet, amidst the chaos and despair, there was a glimmer of hope—a desperate plea for a solution, for a chance to save Zuma from his inevitable fate.
Tim tirelessly dialed numbers, desperately trying to summon help, and Razu raced back to the stable in search of aid. I found myself grappling with a sense of helplessness unlike any I had ever known. The seconds stretched into eternity as we waited, each passing moment fraught with uncertainty and dread.
But even in the face of such despair, there was a flicker of resilience—a determination to fight for Zuma, to do whatever it took to give him a fighting chance. And so, with tears streaming down my face, I vowed to stand by his side until the very end, to offer him whatever comfort and solace I could in his darkest hour.
Little did I know that this tragic turn of events would set into motion a series of events that would forever alter the course of my journey in Nepal, propelling me into a world of challenges and revelations beyond anything I could have imagined. But that, dear reader, is a story for another time...
One evening, the topic of paragliding, a popular activity in Pokhara, came up in conversation. The Hidden Paradise Hotel and Guest House is a favorite spot for thrill-seekers. While I, being more grounded, couldn't quite muster excitement for the risky activity, I was nudged and questioned why I wouldn't want to try it. I explained, "It's just not my thing. I ride horses and have done so for over 30 years, and I find joy in the connection and thrill that horseback riding brings. That's my thing." The hotel's owner, Laxman, asked me, "Do you want to go horseback riding then?" Excitedly, I replied, "Yes!" A few days later, Laxman arranged for another guest, Missy, and me to ride horses owned by his friend at the Pokhara Pony Farm.
I personally own three horses kept at a stable outside Seattle, WA, USA. My favorite is Henry, a Grey Thoroughbred Gelding, who I affectionately call my "Unicorn" due to his color resembling one and his ability to uplift me after a bad day. Henry was abused during his time racing, resulting in post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I've worked extensively with him to overcome his triggers, and our bond has grown immensely over the years.
A Tale of Connection and Understanding
Upon arriving at the Pokhara Pony Farm, I noticed a grey gelding resembling my Henry. As the horses were prepared, I observed the grey gelding flinch and display signs of past trauma, much like Henry. Despite being cautioned that the horse wasn't suitable, I insisted on riding him. After gentle coaxing and reassurance, I mounted the Zuma horse and embarked on a remarkable ride around the area.
Our ride was serene, with the ponies calmly navigating through various obstacles. Though initially tense, Zuma responded positively to my guidance, reflecting the importance of trust and understanding between horse and rider. Upon returning to the farm, I shared advice with Razu, the farm owner, on fostering relationships and gaining the trust of his ponies.
Reflecting on my time in Nepal, I realized it wasn't enough to experience the country fully. With the flexibility of my career as a marketing consultant, I booked a return flight for a 2.5-month stay from March to mid-May. Determined to support the Pokhara Pony Farm, I collected donations from my equestrian community and arrived in Nepal with gear to aid their care.
During my stay, I dedicated time to assisting the farm with marketing efforts while enjoying rides with guests like Kim and Anna, furthering my commitment to supporting those who uphold ethical animal care and tourism practices.
Taking matters into my own hands, I climbed into the stall of another pony and gently bridled it, demonstrating the proper technique to the onlookers. With Zuma, I waited for him to relax before attempting to bridle him. As I stroked his neck and spoke softly, his demeanor gradually softened. Eventually, I successfully bridled him, earning nods of approval from Kim and Anna.
We led the ponies onto the grassy area, where Zuma remained tense. Wanting to build trust, I calmed him, noting his nervousness. Rather than waiting indefinitely, I employed groundwork techniques to establish respect and trust. Zuma initially resisted, kicking out once, but with consistent reinforcement, he began to respond positively. I used gentle pressure and rewarded his compliance, gradually advancing to more complex exercises. Despite some initial challenges, Zuma eventually responded well to my cues.
Feeling confident in Zuma's progress, I invited Kim and Anna to join us for a ride. After some coordination, we set out, encountering various sights and sounds along the way. Zuma remained composed, occasionally showing curiosity but responding well to my guidance. At one point, we even engaged in a friendly race, enjoying the exhilaration of the ride.
Returning to the stable, I shared refreshments with Razu and the group, expressing my intention to return and further assist with Zuma's training. Two days later, I resumed my work with Zuma, focusing on the groundwork and building our relationship. I also helped another guest train their horse, emphasizing patience and gentle handling.
Encouraged by Zuma's progress, I decided to try a new bit with him, which he responded to favorably. With Razu and Tim, we ventured into town, hoping to attract tourists for rides. Despite the challenges, the day ended positively, with Zuma responding well to the new equipment and our continued efforts to improve his behavior and responsiveness.
As I left the stable that day, I reflected on the progress made with Zuma and looked forward to continuing our journey together.
Our ride was serene, with the ponies calmly navigating through various obstacles. Though initially tense, Zuma responded positively to my guidance, reflecting the importance of trust and understanding between horse and rider. Upon returning to the farm, I shared advice with Razu, the farm owner, on fostering relationships and gaining the trust of his ponies.
Reflecting on my time in Nepal, I realized it wasn't enough to experience the country fully. With the flexibility of my career as a marketing consultant, I booked a return flight for a 2.5-month stay from March to mid-May. Determined to support the Pokhara Pony Farm, I collected donations from my equestrian community and arrived in Nepal with gear to aid their care.
During my stay, I dedicated time to assisting the farm with marketing efforts while enjoying rides with guests like Kim and Anna, furthering my commitment to supporting those who uphold ethical animal care and tourism practices.
Reconnecting with Zuma: Building Trust Anew
Upon arrival, the ponies were being saddled one by one in their stalls. Each pony wore a colorful blanket and padding, a small black piece of a saddle with stirrups, and a woven breast collar and crupper. A new Nepali man assisting with the ponies was rough, jumping around the stalls, pushing them, and even striking them when they resisted. I approached Zuma, my grey gelding, whom I remembered well. He flinched and put his ears back as I approached. Sensing his tension, I opted not to try to bridle him immediately, knowing he wouldn't recognize me from across the railing. I observed the rough handling by the Nepali man, who forcibly put the bridle on a nearby pony.Taking matters into my own hands, I climbed into the stall of another pony and gently bridled it, demonstrating the proper technique to the onlookers. With Zuma, I waited for him to relax before attempting to bridle him. As I stroked his neck and spoke softly, his demeanor gradually softened. Eventually, I successfully bridled him, earning nods of approval from Kim and Anna.
We led the ponies onto the grassy area, where Zuma remained tense. Wanting to build trust, I calmed him, noting his nervousness. Rather than waiting indefinitely, I employed groundwork techniques to establish respect and trust. Zuma initially resisted, kicking out once, but with consistent reinforcement, he began to respond positively. I used gentle pressure and rewarded his compliance, gradually advancing to more complex exercises. Despite some initial challenges, Zuma eventually responded well to my cues.
Feeling confident in Zuma's progress, I invited Kim and Anna to join us for a ride. After some coordination, we set out, encountering various sights and sounds along the way. Zuma remained composed, occasionally showing curiosity but responding well to my guidance. At one point, we even engaged in a friendly race, enjoying the exhilaration of the ride.
Returning to the stable, I shared refreshments with Razu and the group, expressing my intention to return and further assist with Zuma's training. Two days later, I resumed my work with Zuma, focusing on the groundwork and building our relationship. I also helped another guest train their horse, emphasizing patience and gentle handling.
Encouraged by Zuma's progress, I decided to try a new bit with him, which he responded to favorably. With Razu and Tim, we ventured into town, hoping to attract tourists for rides. Despite the challenges, the day ended positively, with Zuma responding well to the new equipment and our continued efforts to improve his behavior and responsiveness.
As I left the stable that day, I reflected on the progress made with Zuma and looked forward to continuing our journey together.
Navigating the Unforeseen Challenges of a Fateful Ride
As we embarked on our journey down the sloping path near the Pony Farm, the usual route along the tranquil lakeside was forsaken for a different direction — toward the bustling town. Tim, pedaling ahead on his bicycle, witnessed Zuma's distinctive gait, a graceful blend of walk and trot, a testament to the mountain ponies' agility and strength. Always attentive to my cues, Zuma moved with a fluidity that belied the chaos of the roadside.Navigating the narrow thoroughfare, a sense of vulnerability pervaded our small procession as vehicles of all shapes and sizes whizzed past, engines roaring in discordant harmony. Yet, amidst the cacophony, Zuma remained composed, his demeanor unwavering, a testament to his resilience.
As we rounded a bend, a solitary figure emerged — a blue truck, its imposing presence bearing down upon us. Instinctively, I steered Zuma toward the relative safety of the roadside, but fate had other plans. The truck's wheel clipped Zuma's hind leg with a sickening crunch, sending us tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of dust and debris.
Amidst the chaos, time seemed to stand still as I lay there, Zuma's agonized whinnies echoing in the air, his once-majestic form now contorted in pain. A second truck, its approach ominous, threatened to compound our misfortune, its headlights piercing the gathering gloom. Yet, in a twist of fate, it screeched to a halt, sparing us from further calamity.
With trembling hands, I reached out to Zuma, his shattered leg a grim testament to the fragility of life. As Tim and Razu rushed to my side, their faces etched with concern, a sense of helplessness engulfed us. With each passing moment, the weight of our predicament bore down, casting a pall over our once-promising excursion.
In the midst of our despair, Tim sprang into action, his voice a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. With each frantic phone call, he sought solace in the promise of assistance, his unwavering determination a testament to the bonds that bound us together.
As we awaited the arrival of help, I cradled Zuma in my arms, his labored breaths a haunting reminder of our shared ordeal. In the stillness of that moment, amidst the wreckage of our shattered dreams, I found solace in the knowledge that, despite the trials that lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our resolve to see Zuma through to the end.
As I stood there on the roadside, the events of that morning spun through my mind like a whirlwind. Just moments ago, I had been riding high on the joy of working with Zuma, the troubled yet promising pony, hoping to positively impact his life. But now, as I looked at him standing there with his broken leg, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks.
The air was thick with tension as I tried to comfort Zuma, my heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. The image of the truck's wheel clipping his hind leg replayed in my mind, each time more vivid and haunting than the last. And yet, amidst the chaos and despair, there was a glimmer of hope—a desperate plea for a solution, for a chance to save Zuma from his inevitable fate.
Tim tirelessly dialed numbers, desperately trying to summon help, and Razu raced back to the stable in search of aid. I found myself grappling with a sense of helplessness unlike any I had ever known. The seconds stretched into eternity as we waited, each passing moment fraught with uncertainty and dread.
But even in the face of such despair, there was a flicker of resilience—a determination to fight for Zuma, to do whatever it took to give him a fighting chance. And so, with tears streaming down my face, I vowed to stand by his side until the very end, to offer him whatever comfort and solace I could in his darkest hour.
Little did I know that this tragic turn of events would set into motion a series of events that would forever alter the course of my journey in Nepal, propelling me into a world of challenges and revelations beyond anything I could have imagined. But that, dear reader, is a story for another time...