Four Years and a Lifetime Ago
Owyhee Fandango was my first ride. It was 2008. I rode Aaruba. We finished the LD in the top 10. We looked happy.
On this eve of Fangango 2012, I’ve been flicking through photos from that ride. So much has changed.
Back then, I had a battered, old stock trailer and was grateful for it. I was afraid to tow a horse and was grateful that Travis agreed to drive. We slept in a tent. Late the evening before, we had to put Aaruba in a site-provided pen because he couldn’t handle standing tied to the trailer, and we had no portable corral. I rode in cotton stretch pants because I couldn’t afford breeches. My horse wore Easyboot Bares that I needed help putting on. I had a habit of arching my back terribly in the saddle. I didn’t know where to park or check in or find a grease crayon or where to hang out during the hold. Many people ignored us, but some helped, and I was grateful.
Mostly, I was grateful to finally, finally, finally participate in the sport I’d read about and strived toward for years. Endurance is one of those things you can usually make happen, using what you have, if you want it enough to keep trying. And I did.
I still do.
This morning, I will leave for Fandango again. I’ll drive myself, but Aaruba will stay behind. I’ll have two mares in an upgraded trailer, with fence panels and a camper for lodging. I’ll shoot for three 50′s instead of one LD. I will wear breeches. I will not arch my back. I will know where to go and the names of a few friends. I will still keep my fingers crossed because no matter how many miles I accumulate, every ride is another adventure.
For every chance I’ve taken and every chance I have left, I am grateful.
These Three
On Friday, driving between meetings, I listened to Science Friday on NPR. The interviewee was quadriplegic and the recipient of new technology that permits human thought to direct a robotic arm. This individual had been damaged by a stroke rather than an accident, but the horror of her situation struck me in a manner that such stories usually don’t.
I can’t say exactly why. It’s not as though I don’t know the risk I take every time I ride. All horsemen do. Endurance riders, especially, consider the danger of our regular pursuit in which we set out at speed, for many miles, over unfamiliar territory — often alone.
I pondered this yesterday, astride Acey as she cantered along a dirt path 10 miles from anywhere another human was likely to be that day, or perhaps for many days. If I fell and was badly injured, I’d face a hell of a challenge getting to help. That’s assuming I was able to help myself at all. But I went anyway. Again. I do it all the time.
To get where we want to go — today, and in the larger scheme — we must have faith. Faith in our riding, fallible though it is, to keep us astride a stumble or spook. Faith in our training to stop or turn or rush our horses as needed to avoid unexpected hazards. Faith in our and our horses’ good sense, good instinct, good decisions. Faith in the people we told we’d be back by 4:00. We must have faith.
We must have hope. Hope that today will not be the day of the freak accident, because they do happen. Hope that if it doesn happen, it won’t be too bad. Hope that our horses’ minds and ours align today, so we can hear each other. We must have hope.
We must have love. This is the Do it Anyway. Do it when we are tired. Do it when we are afraid. Do it because we know there’s a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, which we may or may not ever reach. Do it because we aren’t content until it’s done. Do it because the land is rough and the wind is wild and the sky is endless clouds and blue and the mane is soft and tangled ’round our reins and the hoofbeats and the heartbeats swell and we wouldn’t take away the danger if we could, because this is what we love. This is what we do. We must have love.
I believe it was the Corinthians who first read the words: And now these three remain ~ Faith, Hope, and Love. And the greatest of these is Love.
The Scramble
The clock is ticking.
Fandango is nearly here.
I have SO MUCH to do: Wash tack, pre-measure supplements, pack hay, load panels, clean trailer tack room and truck cab, pack camper, prepare horse feed, prepare human meals, pack clothes, touch up hooves, cut comfort pads, charge camper battery, buy propane and beet pulp and coconut water…not to mention riding…
I’m pretty sure this would be easier if I didn’t work full time. But the paycheck is nice. I digress.
I have decided to complicate my life further by taking two horses to the ride. (Ugh. Buddies.) Encouraged by my extremely experienced, unofficial mentor, Karen Bumgarner, I have decided that Consolation is likely up to two days and Acey up to her first 50. EXCITING!!! And a little scary. But not too scary. Ever so slowly, I am getting through my thick skull an understanding of how capable horses are of retaining their fitness over long periods with relatively little work.
So here’s the plan — subject, as always, to change:
Day 1: 50 on Consolation. This should be pretty managable. I don’t know yet whether I’ll be riding with anyone, but Consolation is fine with heading out alone. The complicating factor this time will be Acey’s presence in camp. Last time she came along, Consolation hollered for her for a good 5 miles. Embarassing, but what’re you going to do? The good news is that all holds are out of camp, so we won’t have a repeat performance on every loop. Last time, she pulsed down fine at the finish despite wanting to get back to her buddy.
Day 2: 50 on Acey. I think she’s up to it. I’ll keep the pace sane and probably slower than Acey would prefer. The trail consists of two, 25-mile loops out of camp. This could be good if Acey doesn’t do as well as I anticipate, and it’s always easier not to have to pack for out checks. However, Acey threw an absolute fit about leaving Consolation last time I took her to ride camp. That was 1.5 years ago, though, and she’s come a long way in training and confidence. Worst case scenario, I have to lead her the first mile in hand. Worst-worst case scenario, I have to recruit help to have someone bring Consolation over so we can pulse down. (Blech, I really don’t wanna do that!)
Another question mark about Acey is water crossing. The only other time I’ve had a chance to try her over water, the creek was very low. It wasn’t a problem, but it wasn’t a knee (or more) deep spring rush like it will be this time. On the other hand, Acey grew up in a large pasture bisected by a creek that the herd crossed multiple times per day, so maybe she’ll take it in stride like Consolation did on her first ride.
Day 3: 60 on Consolation? This will depend how she looks after resting on Saturday. If she looks tired or footsore, we’ll skip it. Assuming we do the ride, we’ll again have the anti-buddy benefit of out checks and a familiar trail.
And now, it’s time to get busy. I want to put a moderately-paced, 20-25 mile ride on Acey today, followed by a short ride tomorrow, before she takes the rest of the week mostly off (we’ll still do enough to keep her limber and safe from tying up). Up and at ‘em!
It was OK!
I don’t have time to post the details at the moment (places to go, horses to ride!), but Consolation’s ride yesterday went almost perfectly. She switched her tail a few times and gave one, half-hearted head fling during our warmup, and that was it. We proceeded to have a lovely, sane ride along the irrigation canal — 8 miles at 9 mph. Consolation was all business, relaxed and happy, without the hypersensitivity and spookiness that have characterized her behavior for some time. Hooray!
Oh, and I was finally able to sit easy and enjoy her new, custom Stonewall saddle. It’s a prototype of the new mission style that Jackie is working on and wow, is it nice for both of us. I’m excited to see how Consolation does this year in more comfortable tack. This isn’t the best photo ever because I took it when the saddle first arrived in April, with a storm coming in and Consolation annoyed by her itchy back, but it gives you the idea. I’ll get better shots soon.
Today, I’ll start with a canal ride on Acey and then take Consolation to the hills for a ride with Karen Bumgarner and her boy Blue. We took Acey and Thunder up there yesterday; now it’s time for the greys. Late in the afternoon, I’ll forgo hoof trimming in favor of a Mother’s Day (and late birthday for me) barbecue at my mom’s place. Good thing, too. I trimmed so many feet yesterday that my fingers, forearms, and quads are stiff today.
Watching and Wondering
Well, Consolation and I did get to go for our ride Wednesday. Saddling up took extra time, as she clearly anticipated discomfort. (How was she supposed to know she had dexamethosone on board?) I lunged her briefly before getting on just to be sure I hadn’t missed anything, then led her out to the driveway and mounted up.
It took only a few steps to know she wasn’t 100%. She didn’t want to move off well, and her tail was too switchy for the bugless day. Then again, she wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as she has been over the past few weeks. The obvious question: How much of this was actual discomfort — and how bad was that discomfort — and how much was the cleverness of a horse that is figuring out that fidgety behavior will earn her a day off?
Decision time. With horses, there can be a fine line between “I want you to be absolutely comfortable” and “Suck it up, Princess.” Endurance horses in particular need to be able to work through a bit of discomfort. If the first cloud of gnats or trickle of belly sweat sweat snaps their delicate psyches, you’re never going to get down the trail.
For the moment, I chose to proceed. Half a mile later, we were still going along reasonably well, and I asked for a trot. She moved out slowly. Hesitantly. I kept asking, and after a while she seemed to discover that her skin wasn’t going to bite her, after all. She did still lash her tail and snap her head around a couple times, but nothing like before. At the first intersection, we took a turn that often loops us back toward home. That sped her right up. Look, mom, I can trot! Wheeee!
Until the first turn away from home. Oooh, then her skin seemed much more troublesome. She switched her tail and flung her head around some more. Trot? Gosh, I dunno, mom… Uh-huh.
Again we pushed through, and again she recovered considerably as she became distracted by passing tractors and a herd of horses across the canal. Now, I don’t mean to say she wasn’t feeling anything at all — I do think she her skin was legitimately bothering her to some extent — but she was obviously able to get beyond the “I’m a fragile Christmas bauble, so please bubble-wrap me” stage. In fact, for the last several miles before our cool-down, she moved out quite normally, steadily and with enthusiasm. When we slowed to walk the last mile in, she remained normal.
Afterwards, she had just a hair of swelling on one side, well away from the saddle area. She was just about 24 hours out from her last dose of dex, though, so it’s unclear whether the ride or the timing was the issue.
So…maybe we’re making progress. Or maybe she’s just leaning on the dex crutch and will relapse as it tapers off. I’m worried about the latter because the affected areas were a bit warm last night — and yesterday was her first day off the dex. She’ll get a smaller dose today, tomorrow off, then still smaller doses ever other day twice after that.
Then what?
Recoveries
Consolation has been on anti-inflammatories for 2 days now, and she is a much happier horse. Her whole aspect is brighter. She’s relaxed and no longer suspicious about being handled. Her skin is still strange (a bit crinkly under the haircoat, with those strange black flakes) in the affected areas, but the heat, swelling, and tenderness have vanished. Because the saddle area is all clear, I’m going to go ahead and try riding her this afternoon. Stay tuned.
Acey is moving right along toward her first endurance ride. On Sunday, we did 11 miles at a decent race pace of aboaut 7 mph (for beginning distance accumulation, obviously, not winning) in the sandy hills near Adrian. I like this route because it includes 3 sustained climbs for strength and an interval effect when taken at a steady pace, plus long stretches of gently rolling hills that can be trotted with only a couple breaks to walk down steep grades.
Monday afternoon, her legs were firm and cool and her eyes bright, so we saddled up for a speed ride. The maintainance road for the irrigation canal a mile from In the Night Farm makes a perfect track: packed-sand footing, no traffic, nearly flat for a good 6 miles, and a few duck fly-ups to keep things interesting. I like to use this route for the occasional evening trail ride, but it’s even better for sustained, fast trots and extended canters.
Garmin was busy charging, so I didn’t get to record our actual speed and distance. I’d guess we travelled about 7 miles at an average of 10-12 mph — not bad for a 13.1 pony. That that was our cruising speed, though. The workout was periodically interrupted by Acey’s need to ogle the cows and calves populating the BLM land on the opposite side of the canal. By the end of the ride, she was pretty much over it, so hopefully that won’t be as much of an issue next time.
Acey consistently surprises me with her recoveries. I’m going on perception here, but she never seems to get really winded, and she has plenty of spring left to offer just minutes after finishing a hour of effort. I should hook up the heart rate monitor so I can watch what’s really going on.
(Or Not) Consolation Skin Epic, Continued
Aaaaand, Sunday’s ride on Consolation…wasn’t.
The skin issue returned. Again. That makes twice I thought it was resolved, only to have it reappear within a day or two. Time to bring in reinforcements.
I’m pleased to announce that the vet’s visit confirmed I am neither crazy nor stupid. He’d never seen anything like Consolation’s skin problem, either. Its nature remains uncertain — not readily identifiable as bacterial, fungal, allergic, or anything else he recognized. We discussed a biopsy but his opinion was that the liklihood of learning anything useful was minimal.
Instead, he put her on anti-inflammatories to keep her comfortable while the skin takes time to heal itself. No topicals, just time, since it appears the problem is capable of resolving on its own. Hopefully, now that the inflammation is down and the mystery problem has moved away from the saddle area, I’ll be able to start riding very soon.
Hopefully.
Back Countries All Around
Acey’s second pair of 00 Back Countries arrived last week, and we took our first test ride on Wednesday. Here she is, all ready to go in her new boots and Stonewall saddle. Isn’t she CUTE?
Sorry, couldn’t resist. Back to the boots:
1. The LocTite worked. I had no further issues with screws coming loose (on the boots, anyway…) while riding.
2. Something about Acey makes the velcro on her hind boots come unfastened very easily. The top two layers of the 3-layer velcro system kept coming undone on the near side, leaving the gaiter flapping along as she trotted. I couldn’t get it to stay put for more than a couple strides. This happened just once on the off side boot. Maybe she’s catching it against the opposite boot, which would explain why the off side wasn’t as much of a problem, as the boots are identical so each top layer of velcro points the same direction. Acey handled the flapping gaiter just fine and the boots stayed on and didn’t twist, but obviously we need a fix for this. Duct tape all the way around the gaiter? Not ideal, but it would probably do the job.
3. Acey trots really, really fast with all four feet booted.
The Skinny: Details of Consolation’s Mysteriously Itchy Skin Issue
I swear it’s a curse. Every spring, I seem to have some issue that prevents me from participating in the season’s first endurance rides. This year it was Consolation’s mystery itch — the undiagnosed skin condition on her back that made her utterly unable to tolerate being ridden.
Well. I’m pleased to report that we finally (after 6 weeks of trying) seem to have reached resolution. I’m going to post the details of her symptoms and attempted treatments here in the hope that someone else will find it useful one day. Why? Because in all my googling — and believe me, I did a LOT — I found not a single condition whose description matched Consolation’s presentation.
Week 1: Horse restless under saddle, beginning with tail switching and refusal to maintain trot, escalating to bucking and head-slinging regardless of gait. Behavior persisted when ridden or in tacked-up in hand. Horse was obviously extremely itchy under the entire saddle area from withers to loin. No other symptoms. Attempted another ride next day with similar results. Horse unable to settle into any gait. Sweat pattern was wet on off side and dry on near side, apparently from horse traveling very crooked due to discomfort.
Treatement Attempt: At this point, the bucking/head-slinging/inability to maintain gait (which was completely new behavior for this horse) seemed more likely to be a pain issue than a skin condition. The itchiness, while intense, was believed secondary. Horse was adjusted by equine chiropractor, who is also her vet. Suggestion made and followed to back up toes and lower heels to improve foot and shoulder comfort. Decision made to postpone further conditioning until new, custom saddle arrived.
Week 2: Horse resting, still itchy when rubbed by handler, but not in apparent discomfort in paddock. No excessive rolling or scratching at liberty. Shedding winter coat appeared somewhat thinner over affected area, but not so obviously that it caused further concern.
Treatment Attempt: None.
Week 3: New saddle arrived and appeared to be an excellent fit. However, attempts to test ride resulted in same behavior, but worse. Skin still itchy but not heated or inflamed. No sign of flaking, leisions, bumps, bites, swelling, or alopecia, though coat did still appear somewhat thinner in affected area. (I realized later that the coat was not actually thinner, but was raised so it only appeared thin.) Use of shedding blade revealed that skin was dirty and oily from winter. During one bath, small bumps, like mosquito bites, were barely detectable on withers. These disappeared quickly and did not return.
Treatment Attempt: Bathed 2x on different days with Selsun Blue medicated shampoo (active ingredient pyrithione zinc). Soaked affected area daily with 50:50 Listerine:water dilute. The original, amber-colored Listerine has long been used as a home remedy for sweet itch (reaction to mites) and various skin fungi. All brushes and tack disinfected with bleach dilute after each use.
Week 4: Horse still itchy with thin-appearing (raised) hair over affected saddle area of back. Still unable to tolerate tack. Scraping with shedding blade after application of Listerine sometimes removes gray/black specks that seem moist. Uncertain whether these were dirt, dandruff, or insect-related.
Treatment Attempt: Continued with Listerine application. Double-dosed with Ivermectin in case issue was caused by lice or mites, though this did not appear to be the case. Dusted 3x on different days with livestock flea dust, also as precaution to cover the bases.
Progress: Horse’s discomfort appeared reduced (was less itchy when rubbed by handler, and behavior improved significantly on a test ride). I realized later that this was because the skin condition had mostly resolved along the topline, but had “slid” down the horse’s sides in a characteristic drip pattern. Discomfort resumed within a day.
Week 5: Topline now returned to apparent normalcy, with itchiness gone and haircoat no longer raised. However, new affected patches appeared lower along the sides and loin, as though the condition had dripped down in the same pattern that water would cascade off the back. These patches showed raised hair and swelling. After a couple days, they felt hot to the touch. Horse again unable to tolerate tack. Even saddle blanket causes extreme “cringe” reaction, particularly when horse is in motion. The inflamed patches appear increasingly more tender and less itchy.
Here’s what the coat looked like at this point. Note gray areas that appear thin, but are actually raised.
Treatment Attempt: Applied Vetricyn to affected area but saw no change over 2 days of repeated use. Following phone call with vet, began 2x daily applications of over-the-counter athletes foot creams. These come with various active ingredients and cost about $4 per o.5-oz tube. Over the course of several days, applied creams with broad-spectrum antifungals clotrimazole and tolnaftate with no apparent results except increased inflammation in affected areas. Switched to a third broad-spectrum antifungal, miconazole (found in over-the-counter vaginal yeast infection medication), as a last-ditch attempt before scheduling vet visit. Cost is similar at about $12 for 1.5 oz. Also added daily baths with medicated shampoo (active ingredient salycylic acid) and full-strength iodine rinses over affected and surrounding areas.
Progress: After 2 days of bath/iodine/miconazole treatements, inflammation and tenderness appeared reduced in area, but not intensity. After 4 days, inflammation and tenderness are nearly eliminated in both area and intensity. Inflammation is always lowest in morning, following iodine soak. Continue with iodine soaks 2x daily but eliminate baths (worried about overdrying skin; also, weather too chilly) and miconazole. Improvement continues. Affected area possibly weeps a little (iodine on the coat interferes with judgement here) and shows some black flecks again, just as the topline did shortly before returning to normal.
This morning, on Day 7 of iodine rinse treatement, no heat, swelling, itching, or other discomfort can be detected. Will continue treatment just in case and try saddling up tomorrow.
Lessons learned:
- I think the Listerine worked as well as the iodine.
- 2x daily treatment seems to have been important.
- Both iodine and Listerine took at least a week to resolve the issue.
- I should have treated a broader area to start with, in order to prevent spreading beyond the presently affected area.
- Mystery skin issues are really frustrating.
Dear Consolation: Next time you decide to cultivate a fungus, please select morels or truffles or something else worth selling to local chefs. Thank you.
UPDATE: It transpires that the skin issue was not resolved, after all. Details here.
Pony Fury
Gusto. That’s the word I’ve been trying to think of to describe Acey’s approach to life.
She tears down the trail with abandon, dives into beet pulp like Scrooge McDuck into gold, and stretches a wriggling upper lip when scratched. Fun and daring bubble around her.
But when Acey gets mad, her black eyes smoulder and roll. She isn’t above sitting down and backing 100 feet with her muzzle in the air. Impatient when tied, her hoof slashes graffiti in the earth. Her spooks are brief but dramatic.
The pony tantrums are growing rarer with training, of course, but I imagine there will always be a part of her that reminds me of the old nursery rhyme: When she was good, she was very, very good…and when she was bad, she was horrid!
Maybe I should call her Curly.
A $12 Experiment: Easyboot Back Countries with 12mm Pads
Yes, I tried it. Yes, I know you aren’t supposed to. Yes, it worked.
Those of you who are familiar with Easyboots know that the Gloves and their Back Country cousins (which use the same shell with a different gaiter) are supposed to be used without pads, though it is commonly observed that the 6mm pads work just fine. The 12mm pads are intended for use with other boot styles whose fit isn’t as precise.
I wouldn’t have attempted to use 12mm pads in Acey’s BCs if I hadn’t ordered them by accident. But, since I had them on hand and it didn’t seem worth the cost of shipping to return them, I figured it was worth a shot. You’ll recall that because Acey is so tiny, even her 00 BCs are bigger on her than I’d like. They’re probably a full size up from a nice, tight fit.
I’ve observed in the past that the 6mm pads crush quite a bit, and quickly. I find that a single ride smashes them to practically nothing around the hoof wall. This doesn’t seem to be a problem, as padding remains in the sole area, and I thought the crushing might come into play favorably in my 12mm pad experiment.
By the way, I’m not the first to try this. Easycare rep Alayna Wiley offers this blog post on the subject; it didn’t work so well for her. The boots twisted.
But what the heck. I cut the medium-density, 12mm pads down to 00 size and stuffed them in Acey’s boots. They certainly looked thick, coming up high enough to cover half of the heel screw. Without overlarge boots and significant crushing, this would never work.
Overlarge boots? Check. Even with the thick pads, the BCs went on Acey’s feet easily. I walked her around a bit to make sure they were seated, then double-checked the gaiter tightness. So far, so good.
Now to crush the pads. I saddled up and we hit the road for a few miles at a walk and bounding trot. (It was windy and Acey was, er, more enthusiastic than absolutely necessary.) I checked the boots frequently for twisting or other issues. Nothing. The only change seemed to be positive: reduced “slop-and-clop” from the outsized boots.
Acey seemed to feel really, really good! Even better than usual. Was it the weather, or the pads? Oh, and she was also a few millimeters taller. 
At the end of our ride, the boots remained perfectly in place. I removed them to find the pads crushed down to where they looked about like brand-new (un-crushed) 6mm pads. The screw in back was now fully exposed and the pad had settled down to consume less room all around.
Hmm. This could work.
Now, I’m not advocating the use of 12mm pads in Gloves or Back Countries under normal circumstances. I have yet to decide whether I’ll continue with them for Acey. Further tests will tell us more. But, it does seem that under peculiar circumstances such as ours, it’s at least a possiblity worth mentioning.
Power Pony
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This is the creature I plan to ride today. (Wish me luck.)
Okay, so Acey doesn’t behave like that on the trail. She does, however, bring an enormous amount of enthusiasm to her work. She has the let’s-go-see-the-world! attitude that I’ve missed ever since Aaruba retired. Her walk is a march, her trot is speedy and smooth, and her canter…oh, she has the most adorable canter. Remember those little quarter-fed, mechanical horses outside grocery stores? It’s like that, only 1,000 times cuter.
I took her out yesterday for a brief hack. She’d already put in her 30 conditioning miles for the week and didn’t really need more (ha!), but there was a break in the weather and I wanted to test a hoofboot change. We’d just walk a few miles. Right?
Riiiiight. Instead, Acey strapped on her jet packs and took me for a flying trot across the countryside. Maybe I should have taken her to do the LD today at Tough Sucker, after all.
Actually, I gave that idea some serious thought yesterday morning. It would have been a last-minute thing, but how hard is it to pack for an LD with the hold in camp? As it turned out, I couldn’t get a farmsitter. Which is okay, because it’s hard to stomach forking over $150 or so in ride fees and diesel to do what is basically a conditioning ride.
Which remindes me, y’all did see the blowup over on Ridecamp about Endurance vs LD and the need for new AERC members and the possiblity of shorter, introductory distances to draw more people to the sport? Wow. All I can say is that I totally agree with those who say that LD (let alone trail rides) isn’t endurance. Of course it isn’t. The thing is, I think most LD riders know that. For various reasons ranging from physical limitations to personal interests to training requirements, some people want to do LDs. Some want to take advantage of the opportunity on rare occasions, others want to have fun on the trail without the worries and strains of endurance-length rides. And their fees inarguably subsidize the longer distances. What’s not to like? (Well, there’s the LD racing thing. But that’s a post for another day.) And I don’t know about you, but I still remember when 25 miles seemed amazingly, impossibly far to ride. Sure, it doesn’t seem like much now, but it did then.
Anyway, the way Acey behaved yesterday, I rather wish we were saddling up for that 25 today! We’ll probably do 14 or so miles right from the farm instead, then go climb some hills tomorrow. No point in rushing. (You hear that, Acey?)
Revved Up and Sitting Out
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Consolation is fit and frisky. She could do 50 miles at Tough Sucker tomorrow. I’d like to say that I’m throwing the last bits of gear in the trailer and heading out. But I’m not.
The itch issue isn’t 100% resolved. It seems to be resolving along her topline, but has moved down her sides. I talked with her vet and he suggested treating it like a fungus, as these can present in myriad ways and this could just be a somewhat atypical case. So, I’m slathering her with athlete’s foot cream and keeping an eye on her for a couple more days.
Even if that problem were taken care of, I think we’d sit this one out. It doesn’t seem fair to ask Consolation for a 50 when we haven’t been able to go for some good rides to make sure she’s feeling perfect in other ways. Her new Stonewall appears to fit beautifully, but we haven’t been able to give it a real test yet, so that’s another reason to wait.
Sigh. I’m trying to remember that we’re still well ahead of where we were at this time last year. And I’m (still) learning to take things as they come. There will be more rides.
Consolation is Better!
She’s not 100%, mind you, but she is much improved.
As a test this evening, I saddled her and lunged her for 20 minutes (in 80-degree heat, to get her sweaty since that seems to make the itch worse), then took her out for a few miles’ hack. She switched her tail a bit, and her trot was less than steady, but she didn’t feel the need for head-slinging and bucking every few strides.
Her back was still itchy, but nothing like it has been. If (and it’s definitely still a big IF), this progress continues, we might be able to go to Tough Sucker II next weekend, after all. Fingers crossed.
In other news, Acey and I had a nice ride in the hills today. We took it fairly slowly and soaked up a couple hours’ worth of sunshine over our 11 miles.
(Whoa, that photo looks terrible on my screen. I hope it looks better on yours!)
In Which Easyboot Back Countries Go Very Fast
Acey nearly got eaten yesterday. By cows.
These were not ordinary cows. Acey doesn’t mind ordinary cows. These were Scary Weanling Cows in Crackling Brush. They were another animal entirely. Just ask Acey.
We were in the middle of a road test for her new Stonewall saddle and 00 Easyboot Back Country boots. I decided not to haul out to the BLM land for the test, in case something went wrong and we had to cut our ride short. Instead, we left from In the Night Farm and rode a loop that gave us plenty of opportunities to turn back if needed.
As it transpired, the saddle fit comfortably with almost no adjustment. Custom built for Acey, this saddle is narrower than the old one and felt much more stable on Acey’s tiny frame. I’m sure she found me easier to carry. She certainly had plenty of energy and a free stride.
I forgot to take a photo of the new saddle on Acey, so here it is modeled by the lovely Ripple Effect. Blessedly, Ripple’s back measurements are almost identical to Acey’s and the new saddle fits her nicely, too.
The boots are about as big as they could possibly be on Acey without crossing the line to ridiculous. Outfitted as Gloves, the 00 shells would never stay on her feet (yes, I did try once). As BC’s, they clung to her little feet through walks, trots, extended trots, canters…and a gallop. Which leads me back to the cows.
We were six miles from home. I’d dismounted to let a massive tractor roar by. Acey scarcely looked at the tractor, but before I could get back on, something in the deadwood at the side of the road went *crack!* She jumped. Her eyes bulged. We stared together into the brush. And from it emerged…a young holstein.
Well. That would have been okay, except that there wasn’t just one cow. There was at least a score of them, all half-spooked and half-concealed by the crackling brush. They moved like clumsy ghosts, in fits and starts, and Acey couldn’t get a clear look at any of them. Her tiny ears positivly quivered, and I swear I could hear her heartbeat as I tried to lead her past the long gauntlet of terror.
That was working fine until one of the cows jumped a small ditch. The sudden movement sent Acey right over the edge. She bolted, and her biothane reins slipped right out of my hand. (Incidentally, I’ve been having that problem with biothane reins. On hot days, in sweaty hands, they get awfully slick if you actually need to keep a firm hold on them for any period of time. Maybe I need to either wear gloves or go back to my cotton rope reins.)
Anyway, I had to laugh as I watched Acey’s little bay butt tearing away down the road. I wasn’t terribly worried about her. It was a little-traveled road with fences on both sides, and we were a good mile away from the next intersection. There wasn’t much for a running horse to do but stop. Eventually.
A nice guy in a farm truck happened to see the incident, and he saved me the quarter-mile walk to where Acey decided to stop on the shoulder, looking baffled. I retrieved her easily and checked her boots. Surely if they were going to come off from speed, that would have done it.
Both boots were still there. Hooray! However, as I handwalked her along waiting for her brain cells to reboot, I noticed that the near-side gaiter was shifting up and down. Further inspection revealed that the two screws in front (the “Power Strap” portion) had come loose. They were still there, but no longer attached to the shell. Only the triple-velcro attachment at the back of the boot had kept the gaiter (and probably the shell, too) from soaring off into the wild yonder.
In all fairness, Easycare’s instructions do say to check the screws before every ride. This is not something I usually do (bad me!), and considering these were brand-new boots, it didn’t occur to me. I swore to mend my ways. But promises weren’t going to save the present situation.
You’ll recall that I was riding in a new saddle. With new saddlebags. New saddlebags, that is, into which I had put nothing but my camera and a bottle of water. I hadn’t transerred my usual assortment of “just in case” items including chapstick, sunscreen, Larabar, hoof pick, and multi-tool. Guess which item I needed.
MacGyver time. I explored my tack for a screwdriver substitute and came up empty. No scraps along the roadside appeared to help, either. Spinning the boot around the screw got one side attached, but that obviously wasn’t going to work for the other side. I ended up using my thumbnail (ow) and got it tight enough to proceed.
We finished our ride with no further adventure. Back home, I removed the saddle to find a nice, even sweat pattern and no ruffled hairs. The off-side boot, though, now had a loose gaiter! Hmm.
So about the boots: Tighten the screws when you take them out of the box. I’m guessing this is not a product problem — just user error. I’ll check the screws before my next few rides and let you know if they come loose again.
Today, we’re off to test the new Stonewall on some steeper hills across the Oregon border. I’ll pack my saddlebags properly before we go.
Scratch That
Well, I thought I had Consolation’s itching issue under control. She certainly seemed normal when brushed and worked from the ground. She still has no hives or bumps or scabs or leisons, just relatively thin hair over the affected area (not bald spots, but shorter and rougher haircoat).
And yet, yesterday’s ride revealed that she is clearly still very itchy — driven to distraction, in fact. She seems to want to move out, but can’t bear to trot more than a few strides without slinging her head around as if to whack a horsefly, or nearly bucking. She moves along with her back hunched up in discomfort It gets worse as the ride progresses (and the area gets warmer under her tack?), but the skin does not appear to change. The behavior continues whether I’m mounted or not.
Over the past month, I’ve tried anti-fungal shampoos, Listerine soaks, and livestock dust. I’ve double-dosed with Ivermectin and removed the only new item in her diet (Strategy). I’ve washed and triple-rinsed her tack and brushes. She already gets flax as part of her Show N Go supplement. She lives in the open air, has access to shelter, and is in a largely dry and sunny climate. Her skin doesn’t seem dry. I considered the season (estrous issues?) but she is obviously itchy, not just ouchy or grouchy.
I’ve scoured the internet for ideas and come up empty. Nothing seems to match her symptoms. I’m at the point of calling her vet again to see if he thinks a fungal culture or somesuch might be in order. On the one hand, I hate to fork over a few hundred bucks for a farm visit and lab tests, but on the other hand, I hate watching more time and endurance rides go by without being able to participate!
In the meantime, I am trying to let gratitude outweigh frustration. At least I have another horse to ride, and more beyond that to train, while we get this resolved.
But still, please please please, can’t we find a solution quickly?
Don’t Think (Just Do)
Twelve years ago, when I lived in an apartment in St. Louis and the only horses within 40 miles were the drafts that pulled the tourist carriages across the cobblestones of Laclede’s Landing, I wrote fiction. If you’ve ever tried it, you know that novels are like romantic relationships: Once you get past the beginning, when everything is new and exciting, things get complicated. Characters rarely blossom as you intended. Storylines fizzle. Plots sag. Doubts overwhelm. You develop a new understanding of the term “writers’ block.” This is why many people start novels, and few finish them.
I used to write for two hours per day, five days per week. My two hours began at 3:30 a.m., when I’d creep out of bed in the blackness and shut myself inside a coat closet I’d outfitted with a desk and computer and warming plate for my coffee. It was easy to be motivated when I was starting a book. I’d tap away in the silence, neurons bursting like fireworks in my brain, never wishing I could be sleeping instead.
Then came the middle of the book. “The muddle in the middle,” it’s often called. That messy quagmire in which so many writers drown. Getting up a 0′dark:30 was harder, then. It was easy to look for excuses. If I gave my sleep-clouded mind half a chance, it would come up with some good reason to hit snooze that day. My throat is a bit sore, I’d better sleep. I have a big meeting at work later, I’d better sleep. Yesterday’s fight with my spouse was stressful, I’d better sleep.
There’s always a reason not to chip away at a big project, isn’t there? It’s only one day. One missed step. I’ll get back on track tomorrow.
The problem isn’t just that one day tends to become many. It’s also that we can never get that day back. And like it or not, we only have so many days. Our horses have even fewer. If we have goals, we need to move toward them. Actively. Intentionally. Today.
If you want to ride endurance, you must spend hours in the saddle. If you want to train that colt, you must go outside in the cold. If you want to improve in your discipline, you must practice. Not later. Now.
That is why I developed a habit: The moment my alarm went off at 3:25 a.m., I started a tape recorder in my brain. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think… Get up. Don’t think. Pull on warm clothes. Don’t think. Start coffee maker. Don’t think. Open computer file. NOW think…about the task at hand, because the battle is won.
I did that for years. I finished books. Later, I used the same technique to get myself out the door to train for a half-marathon. I finished the race.
Now, I need to get Ripple going under saddle. She is ready — open minded, energetic, and curious as a monkey. I should have had her out on trails last year. But I had a lot going on. There was wind. The round corral was slick. I needed to ride Consolation. I needed to ride Acey. I needed to work out. I needed an evening off.
Not good enough. It’s time to get out my mantra again.
Don’t think. Just do.
Choice
If we were smart, we would hang our hearts on things that don’t think for themselves. Things that don’t feel. We would love sports cars or landscaping or the sorts of collections our grandparents had, like butterflies or stamps.
But then, we couldn’t control vandals or weather or fire any more than we can control riding wrecks or fencing disasters or trailer accidents or colics. Something bad could still happen.
And we would have missed the best things.
The wuffling of breath in our cupped hands, when we visit them at dusk. We have left our gloves behind, because we want to feel our souls inside their skins. We close our eyes to smell the warmth beneath their manes.
We feel them press about us, prey choosing predator, because they have made us something better. We let them come, though they are murderously huge and we ought to be afraid, because this is a two-handled treasure. We’ve made something of each other.
Something thoughtful.
(Something smarter?)
Something more.
Jackpot
I didn’t buy a lottery ticket. I’m in the camp that believes the lottery is a tax on stupidity. (Sorry.) I also look at enough school budgets to know that you’d “support your schools” better by handing that cash directly to your kid’s teacher.
But that didn’t stop me from dreaming. What if I DID win the lottery — with the proverbial ticket-found-in-the-gutter, of course. What would I do?
Here’s what. I would:
Buy the 22 hilly acres next door. Build a hay barn. And a horse barn with four regular stalls, a foaling stall, a grooming aisle, a heated tack room, a warm-water washrack, and a studio upstairs that I would use for writing and guests.
I would cover the round corral. Build an indoor arena. Install all-weather water and lighting for the entire horse compound. Fence the new acreage with safe, beautiful, post-and-rail fencing.
Strike that. I’d have someone else fence the new acreage for me. Because I would be too busy training and conditioning horses and traveling to faraway endurance rides with my shiny new truck and living-quarters trailer. (Naturally, I would have quit my job to focus on the farm.)
I would take riding lessons and attend hoof clinics and buy books and actually have time to read them. I would study equine physiology and treat my horses to massages and explore all those mysterious and expensive options for supportive care.
I would refinish my hardwood floors and hang art on my walls and add on a den with a fireplace and a view of the horses, where I would sit with Ironman on snowy evenings and watch them munching hay.
I would wake up early to drink coffee and write and observe the horses at dawn, and build my days around them.
But then, I already build my days around them.
I don’t need all the other stuff to do that. They may not have all my time. I can’t afford to give them as much luxury as I’d like. But they have my heart. And I have them.
Without them, none of that other stuff would be any good at all.
I’ve already won the jackpot.
I’m rich!
Intermission
Consolation is on hold. Just briefly.
She’s fitter than snot and could really, really use the 50 at Tough Sucker I next weekend. We were registered. The camper was on the truck. New comfort pads were on order from Easycare. The truck was topped off with diesel.
Aaaaaand…we’re not going.
Last weekend, we had a bad ride. It started with a switchy tail, which progressed over just a few miles to head-slinging and bucking. Consolation felt crooked and short strided and she refused to canter. Attempts to extend at the trot led to quick stalls and the flinging of her head to the right.
Obviously, something was wrong. I checked her tack, even pulling the saddle to check the cinch and pad. She was unusually itchy under the saddle, but I could find nothing else wrong. She wasn’t bellyachy or lame. And yet, her extreme irritation and bucking continued, even in hand, and seemed to be growing worse.
We went home and tried a couple different pads, a good brushing, a warm sponge-down of that itchy skin. Nothing doing. She was fine without the saddle, but not happy with it on and even more miserable when mounted. Mind you, this is the old saddle we’ve been using while waiting for her custom Stonewall to arrive. (Getting the perfect tree has caused a couple delays, but it should be here within a couple weeks — hooray!)
The old saddle simply isn’t a good fit for her. We did our best with shims and minimal riding as she came off her winter holiday, but I now realize it was probably bothering her more than she let on. For all that I value Consolation’s stoicism, I sometimes wish she’d complain before she reaches her wit’s end! And then, there’s always me needing to learn her language better.
Anyway, I asked our favorite vet for a chiropractic evaluation in case there was more going on than just the saddle issue. He straightened her out, gave me a hoof-trimming tip to help with some pectoral soreness, and agreed that a new saddle is what she needs most.
The next day, I hand-grazed her for a while, then loosed her in the round corral to see how she was feeling. Sore, by the look of things! She was very short-strided in back and clearly not interested in trotting much. Well. I’ve been at the chiropractor a lot lately, myself, and I remember how I felt in the days after my initial adjustments. I figured she just needed some time to settle into the new arrangement of her various parts.
Sure enough, by the 48-hour mark she was tearing around her paddock like a maniac, shying at the wind and bucking joyfully. She’s not a great one for playing at liberty — she’s more the paddock-potato type — so she must have felt *really* good. She’s going to have to hold all that energy in for a while, though. We’re looking at a weekend of slick trails under high winds, rain, and thunderstorms. Besides, I don’t have a saddle.
But I will. Very soon. Hopefully, it’ll fit her like a glove and we’ll be 100% for Tough Sucker II at the end of the month. Shortly after that, Acey’s new saddle will arrive and I’ll be back to the grand old struggle of conditioning two horses and training several more.
Oh, darn.
Tamara Baysinger
