The Legend of the Pear Tree

A wave of nausea flooded my stomach and radiated through the rest of my body like an atomic explosion. I made a desperate grab for my canteen as my horse and I traveled across the dry landscape of “Valle Seco”, The Dry Valley. The water was warm, but it was better than not drinking at all. I shook my head and quietly kicked myself for not hydrating enough in preparation for this trip. I of all people, should know better.

My eyes scanned the other riders. Once satisfied I was the only one feeling any discomfort, my gaze dropped to the ground as I fixated on my horse’s faithful shadow walking beside us. His dark silhouette held my attention as my thoughts settled on the seven hours remaining until we arrived at our destination. The duration of the ride wasn’t the problem. If I could rest for a while and eat something I’d feel a lot better.

My attention then moved to Raul who was riding in front of the group. Our faithful leader. When he glanced behind him to check on everyone, I waved and signaled him to stop. I could tell he knew I wasn’t feeling good.

He slowed his paced and announced to the group we were going to take a water break. This brought on hearty approval from the other riders as well.

I managed to dismount without wobbling to much and promptly sat on the nearest rock I could find. My body felt like a ton of lead and my legs like blubbery, rubber. Raul stomped over to where I was sitting and asked me in his most irritated voice.

“Why didn’t you drink enough water before we started out? You knew it would be hot.”

Funny how he caught on to these situations so quickly. Years of experience in the open country and leading groups on pack expeditions like this one made him extremely observant when it came to rider safety and his horses.

I made a futile attempt to answer but no words came out. When I shaded my eyes to look up at him all I saw was the outline of his body against the backdrop of the harsh sun. My hands reached for the first aid kit.

“What the first aid kit?” he asked. I nodded wearily.

He reached across my saddle, untied the red nylon bag and handed it to me.

“Drink some electrolytes and get back on your horse. I’m going to check on everyone else.”

I nodded again as he walked away.

Inside the first aid kit I had a few packets of powered electrolytes which I quickly poured into my canteen and gulped them down as fast as I could. Within a few minutes I heard Raul’s voice again.

“Everybody ready to go?” He stood beside his horse ready to mount. I saw the concerned expression in his eyes. He was asking if I was ready to go too.

“Let’s go!” I called out. My answer more directed at him rather than the group.

We still had a long day ahead of us and the hardest part of the ride was up ahead. The notorious wall.

The wall was the only trail that would take us exactly where we needed to go. In other words, it was the Wall or nothing. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself when I heard veteran Wall climbers describe their experiences. Some described it as a monstrosity of shale and rock, while others said it was the biggest challenge they ever did on horseback. As we approached the trailhead, the more vivid and animated were their descriptions.

Raul loved to add to the excitement by enthusiastically pointing out the tiny sliver of trail as it wound its way twisting and turning up the enormous mountainside. Soon, it became invisible to the naked eye because of the sheer height of the mountain itself.

New Wall riders asked hesitantly, “We’re going to climb THAT?”

Raul and our son, Ricky, checked cinches and made any adjustments our group of riders needed before the ascent. After everything was secure Raul gave everyone some important pointers.

“First, keep your left foot slightly out of the stirrup, not entirely but flexible in case you need to bail out. Second, lean forward in the saddle. If you need to grab the horse’s mane for support do so and don’t stop for anything especially on an angle with a train of horses behind, you. Finally, if you do decide to bail jump to the right towards the hillside, otherwise, you’ll be flying in thin air.”

After that pep talk tequila flasks quickly appeared. Tequila has amazing qualities for calming the nerves. We all took a swig!

After we were more relaxed, we began to ascend the gargantuan mountain which lay before us. The horses moved steadily up the trail. Raul was in the lead; I was in the middle of the group and Ricky in the back with the pack horse. A thick silence filled the air. The only sounds we heard were the horses’ hooves as they placed their feet carefully over the rocks and pushed their strong bodies through the brush.

When we reached the top, I couldn’t believe what I saw. No more rock and shale! No more slivers of winding trail. What lay before us was a giant grassy meadow surrounded by mountains. What seemed strange to me was a single tree in the middle of the meadow. I moved my horse closer to Raul.

“Hey, Raul, is that the famous Golden Pear Tree?”

He smiled and said, “It sure is. Do you know the legend?”

“No, what happened?” I asked excitedly.

“The land once belonged to a rancher who lived in this valley. They say he stole it from the local Indian tribe. He was greedy and didn’t treat the Indians very well. One day, he and his ranch completely disappeared. All that was left was that pear tree which grew and continued to produce fruit every year.”

I eagerly looked down at the tree from the top of the Wall. At this point I was so hungry I could almost taste the juicy pears but after hearing the legend, I wasn’t so sure. That’s when I thought of the burrito lunch on the pack horse.

“In fact,”, he continued with a twinkle in his eye, “that’s where we’re going to rest and have lunch. A little shade would be nice right about now.” He urged his horse forward without a word. He began descending the mountain and we followed behind him. It took about an hour but once at the bottom everyone applauded and were quite relieved.

“We did it!” And it was time for lunch.

Raul and Ricky helped everyone secure their horses underneath the giant pear tree. While Raul began to build a small campfire to warm our burritos, I looked up at the dangling pears. Should I grab one? A friend of ours who was with us on the ride asked why a pear tree was out here in the middle of nowhere, so Raul told him about the legend.

“That’s a little spooky.” He replied looking over his shoulder while he said it. Raul continued adding small branches to the fire and soon we were enjoying a delicious burrito lunch and I began to feel much better!

We stayed there for a little while longer before moving on. Once we were on top of the adjacent hill, I let everyone go ahead of me. I reined in my horse and turned around to look at the pear tree one last time. Either the sun was getting to me again or my eyes were playing tricks. I’d swear to this day I saw the figure of a man with a large, brimmed hat standing underneath the tree. He was looking straight at me.

A chill flittered across the back of my neck as I quickly spurred my horse in the other direction and took off after the others. That was the last time I rode that trail. No more pear trees for me!