One-handed Joe

Dang it! Typing is hard with one hand. Okay, everything is hard. And pain pills make me sick.

This is my story and I'm stickin' to it. . .

We went to ride in Weaverville to celebrate Shirley's 83rd birthday. A few hours into a beautiful ride we decided it was getting too steep and we had probably better head back and go a different way. I think we were up on the way toward Weaver Bally. At one point we were in the Trinity Alps Wilderness; I said we'll end up in Canyon Creek! At least that's what it felt like. So we were heading back onto a road, then to a cut-off trail that we had already used to go around a green gate. We knew right where we were.

Well, the trail was steep and hard-packed. Me and Jupes were in the back. He stumbled/slipped to his left really hard. I thought we were going down. His head was so far down--I thought he was going to go down with me under him. He went so hard to his left, he jerked down, too. I think I yelled, "We're in trouble!" I know I thought it! Lynn thinks I yelled something, because she turned around and watched it happen.

Anyway, what I think happened next was I pushed off his neck to the right. (I was so sure I was going end up under him to the left!) I had gloves on. The reins in my right hand probably caught on the leather and pulled my hand back toward my elbow. I saw myself land right on my wrist before I rolled into an upright, sitting position up against his front legs. I heard it crunch. I have never known anything as instantly I knew I had broken my wrist.

More later. . .