Suddenly it’s January 2019.

2018 was a fantastic dumpster fire, to the detriment and loss of many. We said goodbye to Sheza’s dam Desire just months after we laid dear old Blaze to rest. Finances were tough, an entire town burned down, and it was just generally time for a new year.

So, here it is!

I spent Christmas with my husband and dogs and New Year’s Eve on the coast with my family and their dogs–and today with my ponies! May it continue, we’ll see what the year and AERC season brings.

2018 has been a singularly challenging year here at RHE; from interpersonal relations to human and animal and truck injuries to general financial struggles, this year has finally cemented in me that desperate adult notion that “next year will be better!(right?!?!)” In the face of it all I am certainly ever reminded just how good that I do have it,  so we’ll just let this short paragraph sum up all the Aw Craps of the year to date and move on to a new ride story, which as per usual is filled with semi ridiculous hi-jinks. Just think how boring my blogs might be if things ever went entirely to plan!

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Chamberlain Creek 2018 found Kenny and I in power puff trail duo shape, having ridden most of the summer including quite a bit of endurance ride clearing, marking, and unmarking and exploring the Tevis canyons, while not having actually competed since Death Valley in December due to saddle fit readjustments and the life shenanigans mentioned above.

spring, summer, snacks, n saddles

I have long wanted to attempt the much celebrated Virginia City 100 mile endurance ride that takes place in Nevada in the fall and I had had some notion that Kenny and I would try our hooves at it this year, but with an unorthodox ride season consisting of endless saddle fit adjustments and well, no rides, I revised that grand plan to a September 50 miler on our old home grounds in the Redwoods. We had seemingly muddled our way through Kenny’s latest Goldilocks moment and settled on a wonderfully comfortable Passier English saddle with shimmed Equipedic pad and crupper, Kenny and I had completed Chamberlain 50 in fine style last year, and with bigger goals on the horizon I was interested to see how Kenny handled the hilly 50 miler after a season of trail work versus competition miles.

I was prepped, loaded, and out the gate early last Friday morning feeling like I had things pretty under control, which is generally your first indicator that the endurance gods have settled onto their couches with some refreshments and are about to thoroughly enjoy messing with you.  The first snafu was within a half hour of leaving,  wherein our usual simple back-road-to-highway access, generally a matter of a few admittedly bumpy miles, turned into a loud, rough, debris-filled 45 minutes praying that my tires survived driving in rubble in a ditch, as a road crew had torn the route down to below pavement without bothering to post a sign at a useful intersection where a trailer might choose another path that that was what you were in for. I had words with a cluster of orange clad fellows standing about, patted myself on the back for hauling Kenny in a fly mask (while regretting not stopping in the Pilot line to close the trailer windows), posted a hopeful Facebook note that that was our Unexpected for the weekend (hah!), and on we rolled.

I quickly became entirely sick of the cheery orange Road Construction signs that popped up like mushrooms after a rain all along my route that day. Oh well, it’s a Friday, California found an absurd road work budget somewhere all of a sudden, c’est la vie, I thought, as my old orange Ford rumbled up the 101 grade towards Willits. Cue truck power ebbing and a cheery red CHECK ENGINE light flashing on as Old Orange shuddered suddenly on the loooonnng uphill. Less calm French (and English) words were uttered as I crammed myself into a sort-of pullout barely large enough for the rig, just before a blind corner that I really didn’t want to break down in the middle of. Once parked, CHECK ENGINE and the troubling symptoms immediately ceased as the “OH SHIT” messages flew from my phone into the atmosphere. For all that my brother and husband helpfully responded quickly, bottom line I was pulled over near the top of  a huge grade alone, with zero room to try out my truck’s power, a blind corner in front of me,  and no clear further symptoms from the truck. I figured I had to try to to get to a safer spot so with my heart in my throat I eventually reentered the slow lane with my Hazard lights on and crept at 20 mph to the top of the grade…and along the top, picking up speed…and down the other side, with zero issues.  Our hive mind diagnostics suggested that fuel put into the truck tanks from the truck bed tank before leaving home may have been watery/dirty, so with fresh fuel on board and no further truck symptoms, Kenny and I voyaged on through Willits and out of cell service toward Chamberlain, hooves crossed.

Without further ado Old Orange delivered us to the lovely shady Chamberlain Creek ride camp around 1 pm Friday and I was quickly comforted in my notions of truck trouble by the fellow who had lost his steering en route to the ride. We were golden compared to that anyway, right?(hah!)

My projected notions of a peaceful weekend away already well disturbed, I tried to shake off the And How Will Driving Home Go worries as I settled Kenny and I in. As I rhapsodized about in last year’s Chamberlain ride story, this was my first ever endurance ride back when I was a junior and it is always a homecoming atmosphere for me which is wonderful. Check in and pre-ride were total non events, aside from Kenny briefly taking up vigorous head shaking on the pre ride that threatened to throw us off balance as he heaved his giant orange ballast about and my truck-roughened nerves yelped What The Hell is This, Guess I better Show the Vet, AHhhh WTFFF–of course, the head shaking stopped after riding and never resumed –vet in 40 BPM, all A’s– just a little Kenny fun!

My sleeping set up this go round was the epic foam mattress from my now-sold Gooseneck trailer crammed like a hot dog bun into the tack room of my Logan, with me as the hot dog filling (only left one necessary saddle rack in, rest of the gear was packed in the truck bed). At 5’4″ tall this set up actually worked quite comfortably, the extra mattress padding the cold steel sides and creating a small “table” space to set my water/book on, with all the tack hooks handily around for glasses and clothes,  and I really enjoyed being that close to Kenny, who made sure to check in often and drool on my feet. I was more comfortable in this set up than my previous sleeping in the truck set up, though admittedly if you are tall or get cold easily a tack room probably isn’t going to be your jam.

My family started arriving at ride camp to visit around 5 pm and I had the absolute best time Friday evening hanging out at my camp with my mom, stepdad, brother, and sister in law.  I was a  bad girl and missed the ride meeting but really, they brought everything from home grown apples to home made fudge to a bag of books to a pizza party! Good food, good books, good people, and my steed, truck troubles forgotten, this was what endurance and life is all about ❤

I didn’t sleep but a few hours Friday night between standard ride weekend adrenaline and my neighbors’ pivoting metal hi tie which allowed their horse to move about more than a fixed hi tie but also made a fantastic metal screeching sound any time the horse moved. All that means is that I was up in plenty of time on Saturday morning to don my headlamp and kit Kenny out in 4 taped Easyboot Gloves which any of you Easyboot users will know requires plenty of time, patience, sports tape, profanity, and a hammer.  I am getting better at (Relatively) quickly applying them but I also still think the word Easy being in the company name of such a product is an entirely laughable joke: If you aren’t sweating and cursing to get them on and off, they probably aren’t tight enough for endurance miles. Why 4 boots this time you may ask, well, playing the Kenny comfort game is a fine balance: Narrow set up front so at risk for interference, short coupled and deep striding behind so at risk for forging, topped off with upright Morgany donkey feet that are happiest bare and oh PS aren’t symmetrical, I have been through the gamut of hoof protection for Kenny over endurance distances. The best best option where he is happiest and almost all of his conditioning happens is completely barefoot, with Hoof Armor applied for excessive wear protection. That works pretty well for a lot of footing, sand miles, etc, but Chamberlain Creek 50 miler is both non stop hilly and pretty full of hard footing, with some gravel road sprinkled in. Not ideal for a fully barefoot horse and I didn’t have my shit together to glue on shells which is Kenny’s other most preferred method of travel (no gaiters to interfere) , so opted for our tried and true He Wears Gloves Until He Won’t Tolerate Them, Then They Come Off method. It’s admittedly a bit of a PITA to voluntarily mess with Easyboots during a race but Kenny wants what Kenny wants and he continues to succeed as his demands are met, so obey him I shall!

From here, the ride itself quite happily isn’t a particularly fascinating story. In usual Kenny style he left camp on a loose rein, meandered his way through the first 6 miles clearly not dedicated to the notion of going far, around mile 7 decided he was far enough away from camp that he had better get to work getting back to it (though we would be out of camp all day), and from there we zipped right along through the first 20 mile loop, leap frogging with a few other riders.

At the first hold, 30 minutes, Kenny snorfled through his cereal bags, dissed the expensive hay that I had packed him, and vetted through with his usual lovely metabolics and A grades. My early early morning had left me time to discover an ancient glitter tube in my camping gear so I had bedazzled Kenny’s rump a bit and that stirred up some smiles amongst the vets who also declared him the cutest horse of the day ❤

Loop 2 of the 50 boasts a beast of a hill climb that I remembered well from last year and I was proud of my Easyboot skills as they stayed in place for the hills after a creek crossing; Kenny was not nearly so amused to climb this hill alone as he had been with compadres last year, and we climbed and puffed and climbed our way along in a bit of a doldrums until our previous leap frog associates reappeared and inspired Kenny again. I realized at this point that I had made an error in forgetting to pack carrots in the saddle bag as they are my quarters that I feed into the slot to keep the pony ride going and Kenny’s slightly lower gut scores at Vet Check 2 reflected that he could have used some chomping along the way. I also discovered what else I had forgotten near the end of the loop when, as if hearing my resolve to remove Easyboots at the next hold, Kenny smugly ripped his left front boot neatly in half, knocking himself a nice pink spot on his ankle for good measure. He had done this once before while booted at Death Valley and since then I had been carrying a fetlock boot for the possible occasion but somehow it had migrated from my saddle pack. He wasn’t any the worse for wear and was much more cheerful without the boots (with 2 coats of Hoof Armor already applied) and we vetted into our hour hold at 35 miles in fine shape.

Both Kenny personalities! credit Baylor/Gore photography

The final loop leaves out of the vet check up another solid hill and Kenny resumed trail for Loop 3 with a bit of a sigh and eyeroll, but before long the leap froggers passed us and that was sufficient to inspire us up through Vet Check 3 at the top of the hill and on to the last few miles. Endurance on Kenny is certainly nothing like endurance on Arabians of yore; sure, there are times he’s ripping my arms out and Hi Ho Silvering away, but more often there’s just steady, snarky Kenny, trundling his way along, stopping dead mid trot in a group to poop (watch your knees!), letting horses on out of sight when he has to pee, always game to stop and eat. It’s a very casual and unhurried method of endurance riding and I really do enjoy it as I watch others beebop about trying to regulate more fiery athletes. We have our own challenges due to conformation and we’ll never be fast but boy do I love smoothly riding along listening to quiet tunes, loose reins gathered in a fist, staring up at the trees and appreciating the sky.

strolling into the Finish Line together/hiking back camp

 All told I think we finished the 50 miler about 20 minutes faster than last year, in just about the same position in the pack, affirming Kenny’s steady dedication to 9 hr something-minute 50s regardless of preparation or terrain. Consistency, man! Ride dinner was most epic, featuring garlicky pork roasted on site and our ride awards were the professional photos, a nice touch for those of us on a tight budget who always love to both support the photogs and take home tangible memories. Kenny and I both felt good but like we had done our first 50 miler in 9 months and fittingly I was out cold by 7 pm Saturday night, no hi tie could wake me.

….you didn’t think I would merrily end this story on and we had a smooth drive, now did you ????? Of course not! Heeeeeere’s Kenny, judgily parked at his Sunday afternoon side of Highway 20 hang out spot, after our dear old Orange has nearly stranded us on an uphill grade with NO pullouts, and I have made the call to surrender her to a AAA truck while awaiting my husband en route with our one remaining vehicle.  I’m fairly certain Kenny would like to trade me in for someone who owns a newer model but dog bless him for being such a cool traveling customer.

 What, you broke down again? Good, I went 50 miles yesterday and fancy a nap. Shhh.

Both trucks, the trailer, humans, and horse all made it home the same day in the end, despite being 130 miles from home with a 100 mile towing radius and other good fun. It looks to be a clogged fuel filter and sticky injector diagnosis for old Orange, not the end of the world at 350,000 miles, and in her defense I must point out that the other epic endurance ride truck shenanigans that I have been a part of in the last year or two didn’t actually involve Orange as I am quite circumspect about pushing her to long trips. Kenny did his part as usual and has set us back on track to some larger goals in the coming season so all we can do is save up our hopes and our pennies, wield our mechanic wrenches, and keep on trucking and trotting!

Last year after after 4 days on 4 different horses at Death Valley XP I shared some of my favorite Survival and Comfort Items while catch riding a multiday. This year I’ve already pretty thoroughly covered how we pin-balled through multiple vehicular malfunctions, so it seemed timely to now share some things learned/confirmed while riding the same horse for 50 miles for multiple days.

Bring All the Things…   Kenny has never needed splint or fetlock boots before in our mileage together and I rarely have ever used them with any horse, but I’ve been packing both types of leg protection boot for years now. This ride this habit proved invaluable, when at lunch of the Day 2 50 miler I noticed that Kenny, naturally knock kneed/toed out on the front with an inward swinging movement, had given himself a knick on his left front with his right front. I made it a point to run back to the trailer to grab the fetlock boots before we left on the second loop, and when on a pee break I saw the interference mark freshly disturbed, on went the fetlock boots. Kenny wore them the rest of the 150 miles, barefoot and booted, and there were no further issues.

I also got very lucky in the Bring All Things regard, because when transferring gear from my rig to T’s, my husband threw in an extra saddle pad that I hadn’t planned to bring. It was a green Coolback pad with a 3+” longer flap than the barrel pad Woolback we usually use, and it too proved vital when I noticed that Kenny had a spot of rubbed off hair right where his clip started/pad ended, where the leather billets ran. I have never had any sort of rub on Kenny before in 50 milers with this clip, but this was a multi-day that crossed mountains, so possible issues were handily revealed! The pad my husband had unwittingly included proved to be perfect under the Specialized and covering the rub spot, and there were no were further issues.

..Plus Back ups! While I had covered my boot-gluing failure by bringing Hoof Armor, Easyboot Gloves, and Renegades, I quickly discovered how shallow your pool of supplies can run on a challenging multi day. I used the most tolerated Easyboot Gloves on Kenny’s fronts for the mountain crossings and he went bare in the sandy valleys, for reasons such as this: when still Gloved and loosed into cheery higher gears in the valley after endless walking down a mountain, Kenny flung off a front boot. This was discovered later in camp, along with the revelation that a brand new hind sized Glove had also leapt off the back of my saddle somewhere on trail.

I quickly went from 4 of his most tolerated boots to 2, and one was technically the wrong size. Fortunately, Kenny’s fronts are only a half size larger than his hinds and Gloves are supposed to fit snugly, so I managed to get the remaining hind Glove onto his front for the remainder of the 50 Day 2. Then, on our rest day, it was revealed that a friend had picked up the Kenny flung front Glove and the Duck had picked up the brand new hind Glove somewhere on trail!  Lucky me, but, sparesies of what you know work are certainly essential on long-and-multi-day rides!

Feed them What They’ll Eat, Mostly: Kenny slurps down wet mashes with relish at home but will completely shun the same recipe when on the road. I have wasted a lot of extra groceries accepting this fact! He will eat up dry rations (LMF Super Supplement, a handful of something tasty, powdered electrolytes) like they’re the best ever, and drink greedily afterward. Okay, dry rations at rides it is, for the most part, though I’ve also discovered he likes soggy beet pulp and whole oats at rides, too (he isn’t impressed by the same at home). T and I had a wide variety of basic, healthy feed (whole oats, alfalfa/grass pellets, LMF SS, black sunflower seeds, stabilized rice bran pellets, carrots, apples) and four different types of hay which ensured both steeds, Arabian and non, ate with relish the entire trip.

There is always more to learn on the endurance trail and multi-days sure are great prep for larger goals ahead!

Welcome to the latest saga dear readers, as indeed I can once again deliver a wild tale of adventures gone awry in pursuit of endurance riding. The calendar year of 2017 was one for the record books for me as far as rides traveled to and vehicles gone wrong, and I really wrapped the year up with a smoky, flamey bang!

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The morning after Christmas once again found me with gear packed in preparation to catch a ride to the Death Valley Encounter 4 day. Last year I traveled down to this ride with my old school chum E and another buddy and I catch rode different horses each day ; this year found me with a whole lot more gear to transfer as Kenny and I were going as a unit, with a goal of 2-3 50 milers as part of our conditioning for a first 100 miler attempt next fall.

Plan A had already become plan A.5 as a rookie hoof boot gluing attempt by my husband and I never even got out the gate thanks to clipping the end of the one glue cartridge that I had bought too short, effectively ensuring the glue would never make it all the way down the tip to the boot; instead it exploded gloriously out the base of the tip no matter what we did, and I had zero time to go driving about in search of more glue. Err, right then, I brought all my gluing supplies, all of my Hoof Armor supplies, my meager Easyboot Glove supplies, and even the Renegades Kenny despises for good measure. Kenny barely tolerates strap on hoof boots due to his knock kneed conformation and deep striding gaits, but I knew that the trails were part sand, part wildly rocky mountain crossings, so I figured worst come to worst I could put his Gloves on for the mountains and pop them off in the valleys (with Hoof Armor on all around too, of course).

With my husband dropping Kenny and I off, T and I rendezvoused at a convenient Walmart on Tuesday which also allowed us to finalize grocery/supply items.  That transfer all went smoothly and we set off for the 500 mile drive to ride camp well past noon with T at the wheel of her semi-Bullet-proofed ’05 Ford 6.0. It had only been a couple of hours when she mentioned that there was rather more exhaust output than she was to accustomed to; not knowing the truck myself I had no useful input on the matter, but the Oh Shit spidey senses definitely started to tingle. We sent out inquiries to a host of diesel savvy folks in our lives, from tire guys to log truckers to T’s dad who usually worked on the truck, and they all advised that it was likely a stuck injector, we should put it in an additive, and keep on driving. So we did. The exhaust output was by this point definitely excessive, white, then black, and soon the truck sounded like shit as well, being particularly unhappy if it had to idle at all–imagine panicked perusing of google maps to find us a Walmart not too far off Hwy 99 where we might find an additive while idling at traffic lights as little as possible–and yep, it was already dark outside.

We managed to limp along Nowhereland with a Googled goal of a safe spot to stop for the night and morning reassessment until somewhere outside of Bakersfield, when we heard a terribly ominous KACHUNK, followed by billowing black smoke out the passenger side exhaust pipe, then a volley of sparks. It would be melodramatic to call them flames, but sparks barely encompasses the alarming sight of such an output. Profanity echoed through the failing truck cab as T steered us for the nearest off ramp, a steep uphill sandwiched between two overpasses, and there we came to rest, barely out of the off ramp lane, in the dark, on a semi route, outside of Bakersfield. The truck still started and we debated trying to get off of the off ramp, but being dead on an overpass was probably worse and in the end the truck didn’t have the oomph to drag the LQ any farther anyway. In an all too familiar scene we began calling USRider, various family members who needed to know, and this time we called CHP too for good measure, figuring we needed some flagging assistance so an exiting semi didn’t take us out.

We spent the next five hours or so on that off ramp, eventually joined by CHP who didn’t set out flares but did set out cones, which the exiting semis promptly ran over. USRider proved themselves worthless once again, essentially boiling down to an out of country call service that uses Google and fills out pre set forms with no understanding of what a horse person is dealing with. Finally CHP reached a semi truck towing service out of Bakersfield who found towing a truck and 3 horse LQ with 2 horses on board totally doable and by the wee hours of Wednesday morning the very capable tow truck driver was hooking us up to his big ole sleeper-cab rig.

Once hooked up and after double checking his work thoroughly, the kindly tow truck driver asked us where we would like to be taken in Bakersfield at 2 am. We were operating on disbelief and waning adrenaline at this point and had only a Google’d diesel mechanic name to offer up; the driver, a local, shook his head decisively and told us that his boss at the yard had Andalusian horses and might have a better idea. The boss, that dear, kind man, told his driver to bring us back to the semi yard and park us next to his horse trailer as there was nowhere else safe to be in Bakersfield at 2 am. By 3 am we were parked in the razor wire lined yard, next to a freshly painted horse trailer and a burned out RV hull, across from a fleet of semis, and so very grateful that T has her CCW and always carries. Our horses were un-phased, no doubt judging this an odd ride camp location but settling right into their hay bags and shared water bucket next to the burned out hull.

The semi yard was in use all night, with trucks and drivers coming and going, and not long after daylight we were up and figuring out Plan B. It truly took a village to pull this entire shenanigan off and we would have many thank you baskets to send out, dinners to buy, and repair bills to help with by the end of it.  By mid morning my buddy E who I had gone to Death Valley with last year offered up her diesel Dodge with a gooseneck hitch, my husband was driving my old Ford to E’s to start driving her Dodge down, and T’s dad was rounding up another truck and a trailer big enough to put her dead Ford on and haul it back home, planning to take my husband back north with him. They would get to us Wednesday evening.

Meanwhile, T and I decided to ride to Taco Bell. I had never ridden through a drive thru and how many people can say that they have checked off a bucket list item in Bakersfield, CA?

Post Taco Bell we applied Hoof Armor to all 8 hooves and T clipped her mare’s coat, watched over by the friendly truckers and mechanics of the commercial yard who also lent us a tape measure and were just generally salt of the earth good people. My husband arrived in E’s truck about 6:30 pm and we pulled T’s truck out of the way, hooked up the Dodge to the LQ, and abandoned my husband to wait out T’s dad’s arrival a few hours later.

7:30 pm Wednesday found us heading out into the night Trona bound,  with me at the wheel of my friend’s performance enhanced manual truck, hauling my other friend’s LQ, all our gear, and both our horses. Deep breathing ensued. Somewhere in the dark desert miles from Trona the headlights in the truck suddenly turned themselves off, but were resurrected by pumping the headlight switch, and decided to stay on if I didn’t use the high beams. Okay. We found and rolled through Trona sometime around 2 am and a few miles later pulled into a very quiet and very full ride camp, completely lucking out with a spot large enough for a simple pull up, back in maneuver. We whispered apologies to our neighbors as we emptied the LQ living area, pulled corral panels off the LQ, and settled both ponies in, then fell into bed with alarms set for a few hours later as we were determined to check in, vet in, and ride this Day 1 50 if it killed us.

Fortunately, it didn’t! The Duck and co are very relaxed and accommodating so we managed to tack up, check in, vet in, and hit the 50 mile trail only 15 minutes late Thursday morning. I forgot my phone in the trailer so T and I collaborated on photos on her phone that day. Day 1 was run in reverse of last year, a decision that I greatly enjoyed as it presented us with the most challenging climb and descent of the Slate range in the morning, a cruise through the Panamint Valley to the 25 mile lunch vet check, and then a kinder crossing back over the Slates and home to the Finish at ride camp in the Searles Valley, well after dark at our speed.

Due to the epic shenanigans getting to the ride, I had adopted my last ditch plan of riding Kenny with front Gloves in the nasty rock portions and pulling them off for the sandy Valley miles while leaving his hinds entirely bare (and Hoof Armor’d), which met with his approval. The scenery was stellar, the steeds were reliable and excellent on self care, and it was overall a lovely day in the saddle wrapped up with a 10 hour finish on strong ponies.

Day 2 we headed up the Slates again, this time riding along the ridgeline in a long climb to the radio towers at the summit before descending to Searles Valley again in a truly challenging 30 mile first loop. Kenny hit his first and only doldrums about halfway through that first loop, convinced his human was an idiot who had gotten them lost in a faraway land. He trotted past the photographer part way up the mountain but he did it his way, as ever..

Day 2 Loop 1 was the truest of true endurance, featuring stunning views, arduous miles, questioning of sanity and recreational choices, and saddle bags thoroughly emptied of horse and human snacks miles before anyone though it appropriate.

We were thrilled to get back to ride camp after the 30 mile loop, even as I realized that our enthusiastic final zip in had abandoned one of my front Gloves in the desert, and a brand new hind sized Glove that I carried on the back of my saddle had also parted ways with us at some unknown juncture. Fortunately Kenny’s fronts are only a half size bigger than his hinds and Gloves are supposed to fit snugly so after T reapplied Hoof Armor to all hooves at lunch and we all snorfled through as much food as we could in the time frame, I managed to get the remaining hind boot I had onto his front hoof for the last loop. It was a shorter loop than the first thank goodness, around the Searles valley this time, and with our Rumchata filled flask on board Kenny we had a good time navigating our way in to the Finish via moonlight once again.

Our steeds cantered into the moonlight finish on Day 2 and vetted out nicely but we were all well and truly tuckered at that point and I knew that Day 3 was essentially Day 2 in reverse, with more epic Slate range climbing. We pulled the Adulting card on this one and decided to take Day 3 off, something which I am still pleased/proud about to this very moment. Would our horses have gone all four days? Probably. Was it fair and intelligent to ask it of them, all things (existing condition, travels, future goals) considered? We didn’t think so, and so day 3 was spent sleeping, eating, strolling, applying one more coat of Hoof Armor, and eating some more, with a plan to the hit the trail again Day 4.

We vetted in again on the afternoon of Day 3 and at dinner that night it was revealed that a buddy had picked up my Kenny-flung front boot on trail from Day 2, and the Duck had picked up the brand new Glove that had leapt off the back of my saddle somewhere, too. Score!  Day 4 was two loops around Searles Valley with no mountain crossings, so both ponies went entirely barefoot, but it was sure nice to get the boots back.

A bit of weather rolled in at this point just like the last day of the 2016 ride, but just enough to make beautiful clouds and interesting light at various points throughout the day on trail. Our horses snacked and drank and peed and trotted their way around as steady as ever and it was the perfect wrap up for 150 miles riding; without the intense climbs we cantered into the Finish before sunset.

Sunday evening after finishing we got the ponies tucked in with vittles, had the first showers we had taken since leaving home early Tuesday, and took our bottle of wine over to the ride management provided New Years Eve dinner. We were well fed throughout this ride and there was a live band NYE, however we didn’t last much past eating that night, finding our warm quiet bed preferable. After all, the Voyage Home would begin early the next morning.

T and I are quite efficient at breaking down camp after so many road trips together so we had everything stowed, manure and hay bagged, ponies loaded, and were back on the road for northern Cali by 8ish on Monday morning. We got through two fuel stops successfully but on the third the Dodge started making an ominous whine when I accelerated to get back on the highway. It seemed to happen only if I accelerated too strongly, so the truck and I settled on a non-whining 45 mph cruising speed while once again we sent out the uuhhh, Guys…. messages. 45 mph on Hwy 99 and I-5 is a pretty piss poor speed to get things accomplished but it’s better than 0, so 45 we went, for hours, shuffling through contingency plans. Finally we settled on limping the truck to it’s home at E’s which was the closest base (and only 20 miles from my house); she and her ever tolerant and helpful Airforce husband met us at the base of the last climb before their house and he got the rig in the driveway while we rode in disbelief in E’s car. Two for two on trucks! Humans and steeds sank gratefully into guest accommodations at E’s for the night, with yet another plan to be formulated come morning.

Fortunately we had not yet exhausted our pool of kind friends. Tuesday morning yet another Dodge headed South, this time to pick up T, her LQ, and horse, and get her home. My husband had left my Ford at E’s when he picked up her Dodge on the first rescue mission, so I hooked up my old Ford to E’s two horse trailer, loaded my gear and Kenny in it, and made it the 20 miles home with no further issue, trailer to be returned later. T’s final leg of the voyage went smoothly as well and finally, a solid week later, everyone was back to their barns by last night. PHEW.

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I didn’t even realize it at the time but Sunday’s 50 miler completion on Kenny bumped me over 1,000 AERC miles, something I have been after for a long time. This entire adventure made us question everything a number of times, but there is no question in my mind regarding my love for riding horses, far and long, over mountains, through valleys, beyond the threshold of comfort zones, through Plans A-Z. We couldn’t have done it without each other, our great horses, and a whole bunch of kind humans, strangers and loved ones.

THANK YOU, EVERY ONE.

This holiday season, as most, I find myself reflective. This holiday season, more than usual, I find myself raising glasses, proverbial and literal, to many great spirits gone on ahead.  It is the nature of things, animal and human, light and dark, beauty and pain; they come and go, rise and fall, elate and depress us.  We clamber up and summit with dreams realized, then find ourselves cast back on the lowest shores, wondering Why, Where, and How. Coming to terms with this cycle, or not, defines us because it’s Life: rarely pretty, often beautiful, ever a roller coaster ride.

This holiday season I’ve said goodbye to family members, good friends, and my beloved horse Blaze. Life taught me early and thoroughly that Everything Dies; I consider myself fairly well versed in coping with it, thank goodness, as it is a blow to be dealt over and over as a human. But really, honestly, I’m often convinced that the first slight sign of malady in any beloved human or beast means something terrible, means Goodbye. Notice I didn’t say that I was good at coping with it, just practiced. Anyway, point is, I’m human, you’re human, we’re all human, except for those amazing and wonderful animals that grace our lives, and are generally better than humans. Animals are my saving grace here and now when other lights have gone out, and I am genuinely comforted by the thought of seeing my boy Blaze again on the other side later on.

All my love, safe journeys, and see you again Kay, Douglas, Dusty, and Blaze 

I did promise a Hello, so let’s step to the lighter side of the curtain and welcome a new friend to the RHE herd. I wasn’t ready, it wasn’t financially intelligent, and we all love her.

“Zella”

11 yr old, 14.3 hh mare

Section D Welsh x Arabian

~~Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and onward to the new year~~

Kenny and I are embarking on a big adventure next week, check back the first week of January…

I’m a person of gut feelings and mild superstitions. Ignore either, particularly the first, at your peril I have found. It’s an interesting mix when paired with goals and ambition; it becomes a delicate balancing act–I’m doing it!!  Look out world! Wait..is this niggling feeling paranoia or the trusty ole gut kicking in? Hmm…hmmm.

You see, I was just outside the AERC season-end points in my weight division and the last ride of the season, the Gold Rush Shuffle 3 day, takes place 45 minutes from my house. I’ve never been national year end anything, except frustrated and hopeful, and honestly I don’t really give two figs about point standings or placings, generally. It was just so close this season, after a personally unprecedented AERC tour of 4 states and a streak of catch riding had my annual mileage the highest it had been in 5 years. So close. Yet far enough, as others with the same notion would no doubt be attending the three day ride, surely bumping me out if I didn’t go.

Take Kenny!  you say. Welllll…I suppose it’s timely now to ‘fess up my long term goal for my small, snarky, crooked legged amigo. I’ve got my eye on the purported extremely-rocky-but-great-time Virginia City 100 Miler next September, and as such I have a tentative training/ride schedule for him all lined out. It definitely does not include a flattish ride in terrible-if-it-rains footing on trails I’ve ridden til I’m cross eyed for the last 10 years, in pursuit of an egotistical goal. After all, Kenny for sure gives zero shits if I make it into the points. Actually he might give one, on my boot, for funsies. But you get my drift.

I had an option to ride Mustangs again for Mark but I had an abundance of stress going on in daily life and when offered Chief, a local friend’s Pintabian gelding I’ve known as long as the trails who’s first LD I put on him 5 years ago, I went for the better known option. Catch riding has natural adrenaline already built in for me with my history of kissing dirt and low grade PTSD and I find adding more nerves and uncertainty to the situation rarely does you favors with an equine partner. I felt good about Chief and I could still keep Kenny on his VC100 schedule. I packed my truck with my Catch Riding Essentials (I’m writing a post on that, btw), set up my cozy bed in the back seat–and set off into rain.

Thursday was Thanksgiving of course so I had enjoyed a turkey dinner at home with the husband before setting off and after a little ride camp visiting, vetting in my steed (A’s), and packing my saddle packs, I headed to bed for a good turkey coma pretty quickly.

I hadn’t set foot in Chief’s stirrup since his first LD 5 years ago but I knew he was a good boy and his owner J had been keeping him tuned up. Soon enough it was 6 am (6:30 start), the stirrups went up a hole, I settled in, and Chief and I were off to figure each other out again. He was forward but reasonable, his worst trait being his enthusiastic hollering for his stable mate, who obliged by yelling back. We did some laps around the dirt roads below camp, warming up, not wanting to be by the front runners but not looking to be buried too deep either. Chief had breezed through the hilly Chamberlain Creek 50 miler hours faster than Kenny and I the month before and these were his non technical home trails so I planned to maintain decorum but not hold him back beyond reason.

Chief quickly impressed me. He took to a steady jog when asked, took one or two No Reallys but then slowed to walk on the descents and muddy bits–and his hill attack, phew! He dropped his nose to the ground, rounded his topline, and powered at 4 mph+ uphill at the walk, rarely trying to break to a trot. I’ve ridden a lot of horses in my life and in this year and that was one of the more impressive attributes I’ve experienced the benefits of. As other horses jigged or trotted, Chief effortlessly passed at a power walk. He also had buttercream trot-canter transitions, in both directions. He had been a good solid prospect 5 years ago but now he felt polished and powerful.  If I could name any detriment to Chief’s potential, it would be how hard his hooves hit the ground, he was smooth and comfortable but not light on his feet, something that rings warning bells in me ever since retiring my mare Desire at 18. She was a ground pounder like no other and arthritis came fast for her. You know how it is, once you’ve had a horse with an issue in an area, it is a paranoia strobe light for you while riding all others. Anyway, J had told me that Chief probably wouldn’t drink for the first 15 miles or so and I had packed carrots and other goodies so we cruised along in our own pocket, snacking, enjoying the day.

Riding a reasonably behaved horse put me in the position of being other’s brakes and steering a few times throughout the weekend and I can only encourage those that find themselves in that position to ask if it’s okay as you almost crash into the horse in front of you, and thank those who did…

The first Loop was 25 miles (he drank at mile 17, good call Mom) and brought us back into ride camp, right up a steep hill, which served to amp up Chief in a couple of ways. For one, these are his home grounds so he knows exactly what and where ride camp is. Also, he knows his stable mate is possibly there–OMG NEIGH!!! And finally, a steep hill does great things for bringing down heart rate..err. J had told me that Chief’s metabolics were not his strongest point, i.e. he’s a large horse who needs cooling and smart riding, he wasn’t clipped (hindsight 20/20), and it was sunnyish and humid, so she met me out with a cart to strip his tack. We tried to protect our ear drums from his hollering (stablemate was gone on LD at that point) as we hosed his front end and legs off in camp, and he was pulsed down in 5 minutes. We decided to take him back to the trailer to eat and drink and relax in a bit before vetting then took a peppy Chief over for a check of mostly A’s, with a couple Bs on hydration indicators.

Loop two was even flatter and we made good time cruising along still in our pocket. Chief was in his element and drinking deeply when offered at that point. I did forget to repack carrots at the lunch hold, it really is such a great gut/parameter bump to keep feeding those little quarters into the slot as you ride, or stop for grazing breaks. Some of the second loop skirted Camp Far West lake itself and there were a few spots that showed the lake levels had clearly risen in the last day or two, as the paint markings occasionally disappeared into mostly shallow water then visibly resumed farther along the shore. I knew the lake shores to be muddy and deceptive so I skirted all of these, but witnessed a particularly deep “crossing” from afar: three riders approached the newly underwater area and leaped into it with seeming abandon, somehow seahorsing it across intact, though all that attempted it that day weren’t so lucky. It was quite a sight. The ride manager encouraged everyone that night to skirt such issues should they come upon them again.

I wanted to pulse right through at the Finish and was enjoying the evening so we meandered in the last couple of miles, I hopped off to handwalk the last half mile, and we came in to a 56 BPM and A Overall finish. J’s other horse completed the Day 1 LD and showed for BC to round out a good day. My Day 1 completed card was my vet-in for Day 2’s 55 miler and after mashes and dinner plates all around it was most definitely bedtime again.

Day 2 found Chief just as eager as Day 1 and I’d resolved not to head over into the start area chaos so early this time, so I mounted more like 6:15 and warmed up on the far side, heading for the start once the trail was open. It was another sublime NorCal winter morning and Chief and I settled in with our Pandora tunes softly playing for a slightly slower day on trail. It was Day 2, 55 miles were to hand,  and steady was the name of the game more than ever.

After some eyebrow raising encounters in miles 1 and 2, 4ish miles in a polite and friendly rider approached us from behind, under control, and asked if I minded if we cruised along together. I had no objections, my caveat always being as long as the horses are rating well, and we proceeded to ride almost the entire first loop together, chatting amiably. It was nice to have some company after flying solo Day 1 and the horses rated well together until we were almost back to camp when the larger more forward mare riding her first day naturally forged ahead. Chief was definitely quieter 20 miles deep into Day 2 but got back to yelling as we approached Ride camp for the 25 mile vet check. He pulsed right in and I settled him in to eat and drink for a bit again as we had done successfully the day before. I snorfed down some delicious turkey wraps from Chief’s crewing parents then headed over to vet in.

If you haven’t seen that thoughtful look on a vet’s face after returning from your trot out before, well, I hope it never comes to pass, but it probably will. It’s not an Oh Hell No look, it’s a Hmm, Did I see Something? look, and it was on Dr. Jamie Kerr’s face after Chief’s trot out halfway-ish through day 2. He said that he thought he might see something in the front end and he was going to have another vet take a look after we finished the rest of the vetting. As Chief’s otherwise great scores came in, I felt a tiny flash of but the points.., then my better self kicked in and even as I trotted again for two vets, I knew I was Rider Optioning if I wasn’t pulled. Chief had history of a front leg injury a couple of years ago and though in the moment I couldn’t even remember which front leg it was, “front” was enough for me. There was absolutely no way I was going to risk a horse for a silly human goal. Dr. Kerr gave me the Okay to continue after re-check but I went with the R.O–L and put a peppy and yelling Chief back in his pen, job well done for the weekend.

Doing the right thing doesn’t always taste great but it’s the flavor of life for me, or so I try to make it. Chief went home sound and happy, J’s other horse finished the Day 2 LD in style with her aboard, showing for BC again, and overall it was a really enjoyable weekend. The points goal will retire quietly to it’s shadowy grave, here are the stats that really matter to me in the end:

My 2017 AERC:

*355 miles completed AERC 50/55s: 7/8 completed, 1 Rider Option

*80 LD Miles, 3/3 completed

*1st 100 Miler attempt: Rider Option–HLD (Hella Lost in the Dark)

*7 horses ridden for 5 owners, 4 different breeds,  zero hard pulls

Thank you to all the owners who trusted me with their equine partners, to all the great horses that carried me, and to everyone else–see you next season!!