Horse riding, you either love it or hate it. ah well, hate it won’t really be because how can you not love such beautiful creatures, but fear I get. And fear I felt for a long time, to get back on a horseback after 10 years of feeling more than satisfied petting them from a distance. But, as the owner was simply such as nice woman that infected me with that contagious Finnish relaxation virus, I said yes in a way so excited I realized she must have thought I was experienced. Nevertheless, on my last day in Finnish Lapland, in the tiny ‘town’ of Inari, I jumped in the car with Satu as she took me to the place where her loyal dogs and beautiful horses were kept. It was a cold day, it was early August yet the temperature dropped to 10, as she told me a heartbreaking story of how the previous summer was so hot for this place that was made for winter, that many wild animals had died. And then suddenly I felt grateful for the cold, even though I was not prepared for it in my thin, well-ventilating rainjacket. We entered the forest, although we never left it but just went deeper and deeper into it, to end up at an impressive little creation of wood, existing out of a cabin, a barn, and some fences that housed 3 big, beautiful horses.
See the thing is that I like horses, but I also find them intimidating, which makes them even more likeable to me. Such majestic perfectly shaped creatures, yet still animals and therefore unpredictable, wild. Luckily I was drawn to challenges and adventures like an unstoppably powerful magnet, besides my everlasting love for animals. As a soft yet stonecold rain came drizzling down, I needed a stool to get up on my beautiful golden haflinger with a just as beautiful sami-name I forgot. Strangely, I immediately felt comfortable and safe, as this beauty was going to protect me from all the harm the Finnish forest doesn’t have (unless you get lost or bump into a very hungry mom bear/wolf). i sat up straight and realized that horses are quite big, and how much I didn’t want it to run. Just stepping peacefully was more than enough for me, I had to learn to trust her but she had to trust me too, if I’d be too anxious she’d probably copycat that behaviour, making my fear of falling of a running horse and being kicked by its massive legs, come true. Yet I hardly felt any fears on the back of this beauty, and as Satu took a place on her neighbour, we soon disappeared into the wall of pine forests.
Before I knew, one of Finland’s most magical treats appeared: the endless amount of variating lakes, in all sizes and shapes, yet forever dark and still. Always surrounded by a yellow swampy territory full of life, backed up by the pine trees that always were so quiet as wind nor rain moved them. I always wondered where all the life was, why the birds didn’t sing and why the bears never showed. I sometimes forgot that Finland is 86 % forest, a safe haven for its treasures. And we completely emerged in it, harmless on our horsebacks. It was surprisingly relaxing, hearing the constant rhythm of the ticking hooves, sliding from left to right on the comfy leather saddle, watching the green turner greener. The sky turned more grey but it managed to add up to the beautiful still, magical atmosphere of the silent forest. We now took a turn into a path so tiny I was convinced it was made by ants and never spotted by humans. I was nervous as the horse comfortably put its feet down, confidently looking forward, while I tried to make sure it wouldn’t slip on a rock. I didn’t understand how, but the horse found its way without trying, so either I saw too many bears on the road (ironic) or I wasn’t aware before of the survival instinct even the most domesticated horses still own.
The tall trees surrounded us and the soft mosses supported us, when unlike my horse I made a little jump when a big black bird flew by. It turned out to have been a black grouse, a somewhat clumsy flyer with an impressive size and pretty red crest. The swampy sounds of the hooves in the mud were a little less calming than those on a solid road, but I started to have faith in my horse. And it was as if it felt that, because whereas it first sometimes nervously shook its head or turned its ears, it was now totally chill. Sometimes Satu told me little stories about Lapland, such as a run-in with a bear, an (almost) crash with a moose and the defending of her dogs against wolves. I suddenly realized how spoiled my little life was, I never had to feel unsafe or level with nature, yet I knew I wanted more of this in my life. I knew it before I knew it, meaning I felt it before I felt Finland. As we had those little chats, being the only sounds to interrupt the deafening silence, we entered a beautiful little plain. It was one of those perfect little movie scenes where you have endless walks trough the forest to find this fairy tale place in its heart, a little field filled with the wildest, colourful flowers. Yet, we were not the only ones to admire this place. A little herd of impressively big, yet always fluffy reindeer, lifted their majestic heads on the other side. Our horses did the exact same thing and stopped for a bit. ‘they are used to reindeer I assume’? – I managed to ask it as if out of interest, while in reality I had this doom-scene of some war about to break out. ‘yes, but never this close’ – Satu answered.
Well, it turned out animals are more peaceful than humans, sometimes. A little stare-off was all that happened, before the reindeer realized there were plenty of other options, and hopped away. We got swallowed by the forest again where I now, after seeing how professionally the horses dealt with ‘confrontation’ felt entirely zen, I could have fallen asleep if the endless sight of trees wasn’t so damn interesting to me. Call it gloomy, call it scary, call it intense, the forest could be all of that. But open your heart and realize this is what earth is supposed to be, an endless, beautiful source of life made to live with at peace. We followed curvy sompy paths and sometimes I had to lean back a little when the horse leant forward to eat. But I granted her that and petted her around the minute to let her know how grateful I was for this experience. Then the light came back, the same lake appeared on my side (no clue how I managed to recognize one out of millions) and we’d safely made our way back to the wooden barn. There we brushed the horses for a bit, a reward for them but also to me, it really calmed me down and made me feel safe and warm. What a wonderful experience.
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