The first shock was crossing a streambed. Simple enough true . . .  but somewhat unexpected to suddenly find myself pointed downward. That surprise passing, I realized that leaning back on such transits helped an awful lot. I also learned, later on, that leaning back on level ground was tantamount to asking for a swift pace.
 

I guess an hour later we had a rest stop, or at least everyone stopped and got off his or her horse. So rather than continue sitting on Bjartur, I leaned forward kicked a leg back and swung it over and slid off my horse.
 
Sue holding her munching horse Rauði-Brúnn, as well as Bjartur. In green is an Englishwoman who not only had riding experience but her own horse back home. In orange is a Swedish woman who watched over us.
 
About a half inch of water had accumulated in my camera bag, but I let my camera drip dry a little, and tried some pictures. It was easiest shooting with the rain to my back, but then most everyone seemed to prefer standing with the rain to his or her back too, so perhaps the main point of interest is in those people who wore their helmet under the hood or over the hood. My preference is over, since the hood has less openings for the rain to come in. Nevertheless, I too was pretty wet at the end of the ride.

A kind person held Bjartur, and I got on (after two attempts again). The rain was coming down as hard as ever, and the word was passed around that the ride would be cut short. No one seemed to mind that much.

Between the first and second rest stops, I felt that I was becoming more accustomed to riding and kept closer to the group as a whole. It allowed some people to drop by me and say that they were worried about me. (So much for my immediacy for picking up new skills).
 

My only regret is that at the end, when the ten of us were relaxing with coffee after the ride, that my camera indoors had misted beyond relief, and I couldn't take a clear group photo. Well . . .  perhaps next year . . .