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.
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.
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?
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.
Getting the Message
There are so many things to get right in horsemanship. So many ways to go wrong. We try our best. Fail sometimes. Learn. Try again. Eventually, we succeed more than we fail. Our horses tell us when we’re getting there.
Priority number one is to listen. I know I’ve made mistakes with Consolation. But lately, she whickers when she sees me coming with the halter instead of hay. It makes me happy, because she is happy. Because I’ve also done something right.
Blackjack: An Adventure in the Cards
It was a ride full of questions. Most of them sounded pretty much the same: This way, or that way? The good news: We had all day to find out. The bad news: There wasn’t any water.
I booted all four of Consolation’s hooves. Packed some complete feed pellets and trail mix. Tossed an extra water bottle in the truck. We were on our way to Adrian, to climb the big hill and trot across the flat, then turn left instead of right in search of the long trail around Blackjack.
(I didn’t have my camera along, so these photos are from May 2011 rides in the same general area.)
It’s a loop I rode once before, about a year ago, in the opposite direction. I remembered rocks, lots of climbing, and a distance of about 25 miles. The day was sunny, pleasantly warm, but complete with a nice breeze to help keep Consolation cool in her partially-shed winter coat. Tufts of green grass sprouted beneath the tall, dry wisps of last year’s growth. The trail stretched endlessly ahead.
I expected the first 6.5 miles to be slow. The trail in this section undulates over a series of very steep hills — too steep to trot up safely, for fear of stressing a tendon or ligament. I rode up each hill at a walk, then dismounted to lead Consolation down, up and down, over and under… It took forever, but what a workout for the pony!
Finally, we completed the “weightlifting for horses” section and broke out onto a long, gradual uphill slope with decent footing. Consolation seemed quite relieved to be trotting again, and carried me eagerly up and away across the range. Before long, we arrived at a landmark I remembered: a barbed wire gate stretched beside a yellow cattle guard. So far, so good.
A half-mile later, the questions began. We arrived at an intersection of the sort of dirt roads that wind across Oregon’s BLM range, travelled — some much more than others – by an assortment of ranchers, hunters, ATV enthusiasts, and yahoos I’d like to beat soundly with their abandoned beer bottles. The road we were on curved south. The other led north-northwest, roughly the direction we’d eventually need to go in order to circle back toward our rig.
Hmm, I thought. This way, or that way? According to Garmin, we’d only gone 9.something miles. It seemed too soon to start looping back…so we took the southbound track. It meandered uphill and down, through another gate…
Uh-oh. I only remembered one gate from that other time. But then again, I was never sure that I’d actually ridden the whole Blackjack loop before. Consolation felt strong and the day was young, so we proceeded through the gate and into the wild yonder.
We paused occasionally to crop grass — “GU” for horses and the only moisture to be found – and watch herds of mule deer and pronghorn bound away from our approach. Cattle dotted the hills. We trotted and walked and trotted some more. I kept one eye on Garmin’s map feature and the other on landmarks, trying to evaluate our position and hoping for another intersection, at which time it would surely be right to loop north.
The only intersection we found was a battered track that led to the crest of a hill and faded into nothing. From the top, we inspected the vista for signs of a return route. Nothing presented itself, but the land is so crumpled and broken that one wouldn’t necessarily see a path even if it was there.
Back at the bottom of the hill, I wondered again: This way, or that way? Backtrack, or carry on? Oh, what’s life without a bit of adventure? We carried on. And on and on and on. Clear out to the massive, cross-country powerlines that we’d seen from a distance and that I knew were not the same ones that run roughly parallel to the Owyhee River and that, if followed, will guide a lost rider back to Adrian.
Not that we were lost. I had a pretty good idea where we were. The problem was, I had no idea whatsoever whether I would be able to find a passable route to get where I wanted to go. I decided that if we arrived at the big powerlines and didn’t find an intersection, we’d turn around.
Lo and behold, there WAS an intersection under the powerlines! Granted, our new path was a mere pair of tire ruts winding over rocky ground toward the Owyhee canyon, but it led us northwest, than north, than north-northeast. The right direction! The breeze kicked up a notch into full “wind” mode. Consolation sensed the turn toward home and picked up her pace to match. Garmin pegged us at 15 miles.
Trot, trot, trot. Slow to pick through rocky sections. Pause to stare at more deer. Things were looking just about how I wanted them to when our road vanished. It simply petered out into a barren tumble of rocks and sagebrush.
I looked this way, and that. I looked at the rough country ahead and the long road behind. I looked at Garmin and I looked at my horse. We could backtrack and log several more tough miles just to get back to the spot were we were 15 miles from the trailer, or we could pick our way cross-country and meet up with our previous track that lay a couple miles east. This way, or that?
Cross-country it was! Consolation protested my demand that she walk carefully down into a ravine, then up the other side where small, black boulders sprouted like mushrooms. We crested that climb to be greeted with bad news: the next ravine was more of a canyon, with steep rock sides and no guarantee of safe passage.
Back down the rocky hill we trekked, to the bottom where an east-west cow trail meandered. If the cows could do it, we could too. We wound through the windswept ravine. Rounding one turn, we shared a mutual spook with a cow and her brand-new calf. Still wet and flopping around it its first effort to stand, the black baby and its mama needed some space. Consolation and I gave them a wide berth and circled back to the cow trail, which led eventually to our prior path.
Whew. Now there was no question. It was time to backtrack. And so we did, up and down, back through the second gate to that initial intersection. Here, we had another choice: Turn northwest and loop around Blackjack as planned — hoping not to take any more wrong turns — or follow the known path home, over all those slow and brutal hills.
We turned. Why not? We’d been out only 3.5 hours, it was a bright afternoon, and both Consolation and I were still having fun. Besides, who in their right mind would want to backtrack across those nasty hills?
Not that I expected the remainder of the Blackjack loop to be easy. It was, as I expected, long and rocky and home to plenty of long climbs and descents. I dismounted and ran beside Consolation down the long hills, a practice she seems to enjoy and for which I want to personally be in shape when the ride season arrives.
Eventually, we met up with the familiar powerlines and followed them most of the way back, though we retained a sufficient sense of adventure to explore a few more cow trails that crossed the familiar area we normally ride. Might as well! A fresh bit of scenery never hurts, and this is the time to do it, before the weather gets hot and the rattlesnakes come out.
Garmin called it a wrap at 26.24 miles in 5:32. Figuring in the 10% error for hilly terrain, I reckon we actually logged close on 30 miles. A week of work, done in one fell swoop — and good thing, because our first week of daylight savings time is supposed to be washed with wind and rain.
This morning, Consolation is bright-eyed and frisky. Her legs are tight and cool, her appetite strong, and her water tub much emptier than usual. I gave her a bit of alfalfa for breakfast, in addition to her usual mound of grass hay. She earned it.
Comin’ on Strong
Well. Consolation seems to have her aerobic capacity back.
I took her out on the road yesterday, figuring on spending a couple hours covering 12 miles. Her Majesty had other ideas. She offered speed, and I took her up on it. We cantered up all the hills (for what they were worth — total elevation gain was only about 650 feet), trotted down them (I’ve taken to doing a lot of running alongside her for this), and hand-galloped some level stretches. We lost one hoofboot to a torn gaiter (oops) and backtracked to recover it (hooray!)
(Dirty, but pretty anyway.)
She switched her tail as sweat trickled down her legs, pointed her nose into the wind and asked to go faster. (No thanks, Lady, this is fast enough.) I pulled her up now and then, made her walk or jog a few hundred feet, and 14 miles later she was still full of blood and air. I handwalked her the last quarter mile, watching her P&R drop like a stone down a well.
Equine fitness is truely fascinating, is it not?
Today, we’ll go much slower. We’re going to meet up with Karen Bumgarner just across the Oregon border and try to find our way from Adrian to the Owyhee River. I think the whole trip will be 25 miles or so. Eat your breakfast, Lady!
Wish
May you count your blessings, one by one ~ And when totaled by the lot,
May you find all you’ve been given ~ To be more than what you sought. ~ Ruth Kephart
Merry Christmas from the whole herd at In the Night Farm!
Looking Back and Going Forward
Last January, I wrote this post about the upcoming year. It’s pretty good, if I say so myself. I almost sound as if I know what I’m talking about. It was all about enjoying the journey. I put it this way:
The real heart of horsemanship is not at the crowded start, nor on the trail with twenty miles behind and thirty to go, nor among friends at the award dinner come evening. It is at home, in the round corral, amid the dust and sweat and sun. It is in the glassy eye melted black with trust, the rush of breath and lowered head, the silent conversation that magics us from two to one.
Endurance is a thrill, but icing is nothing without the cake.
I’ll buy that. In the same post, however, I included some musings on where my 2011 trail might lead. Now I can entertain myself by comparing conjecture to reality:
1. Explore some new rides on Consolation. I was hoping to get to Utah or Oregon, or maybe bump up to a 75. Neither happened, but I’m still quite pleased by what we accomplished:
We completed 505 endurance miles together (I did another 100 on a borrowed horse), bringing Consolation’s total up to 825. We also started doing multi-days, a goal I neglected to mention last January but have tried for years to reach.
We also expanded our regular conditioning area to include some hilly land just across the state line, which contributed nicely to Consolation’s mental and physical fitness.
2. Put miles on Acey. Mission accomplished. We didn’t actually condition for a ride (not least because I still haven’t found hoof boots that fit her), but we put in enough arena work and trail miles that I feel quite confident she’ll be ready for her first 50 in 2012.
Have I mentioned how fun Acey is to ride? She is So. Fun. To. Ride. I feel sorry for all the people who aren’t lucky enough to be of small stature, because they’ll never get to ride this little bay fireball.
3. Train the babies. This didn’t go so well. I spent a fair amount of time with Ripple Effect, but not nearly as much as I’d have liked. She’s now (generally) comfortable with leaving the farm in-hand. She handles traffic beautifully. She ground-drives and deals with having all sorts of peculiar objects dangled from her tack. And yet, I haven’t ridden her. I’ve backed her a couple more times, but I just get the feeling that she isn’t ready. I worked with her yesterday, though, and she does feel much closer than she did in July. She just needs more time than I’ve given her.
What about Crackerjack? I really need to get going on this guy, because he looks like this:
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I did put in some lessons with Incognito (2009 Insider x Sandstorm filly), establishing some basic training. For now, her main job is to grow up. She’s sharing a winter paddock with Acey and Ripple, who are schooling her in the ways of the world.
4. Buy and build stuff. This could scarcely have gone better. Not only did I manage to acquire a much-needed horse trailer upgrade, but Ironman built a new run-in and I bought a truck-bed camper that makes ridecamp exponentially more comfortable, especially in cold weather.
Now, we just need to finish the perimeter fence, repair mare paddocks, bury water and electric lines out to the horse compound…
In summary, I’m pretty happy with the year. My biggest regret is not making more progress with the youngsters, but there’s only so much time to go around. I kept my priorities in order: Consolation’s fitness, Acey’s miles, baby training, other. That list was helpful in directing my choices regarding what to do on a given day.
Now What?
So, 2012! It’s going to be a crazy year, what with flying to Mexico to get married in June, attending a family reunion, and squeezing in rafting and rides and such, but there are a few things I’d like to make happen:
1. Cover lots of AERC miles with Consolation. Which miles? How many? That remains to be seen. If all goes well, we’ll do a bunch of multi-days. I’d also like to try a 75 or 100. I still want to take her to some Oregon or Utah rides, but given the time and expense of all that other travel, this may not be the year.
2. Start Acey on the endurance trail. I am so happy to have a second horse to ride! Now, I just have to figure out how to keep two horses fit. I hope to do at least a couple 50′s on this mare.
3. Get Ripple comfortable under saddle and on the trail. ‘Nough said.
4. Start Crackerjack under saddle.
5. Finish perimeter fence and mare paddock upgrades.
It’s 15 degrees out, but the sun is up. I think I’ll start today.
It Doesn’t Look That Much Like Christmas
Southwestern Idaho is enjoying the most amazing winter. It’s cold, but the days are mostly sunny and dry. My round corral isn’t slick. The trails aren’t icy. My biggest problem is tightening a western-style cinch without pulling on the horses’ thick coats.
The horses are full of holiday cheer. They tear about their paddocks at feeding time, bucking and snorting clouds of steam, skidding to halt just before they crash into the fences. I’ve taken to free lunging Acey and Consolation a bit before riding, lest they bounce me to the moon out of sheer enthusiasm.
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For the first time in memory, I’ve actually been able to maintain semi-regular training sessions with the younger horses. Normally, inclement weather shuts me down sometime in November, but this year I find myself still sacking out and ground driving in mid-December.
It’s enough to make me want to start setting goals for 2012. I’m big on goals. Sometimes TOO big. I used to have a habit of establishing such lofty ambitions that I could scarcely help but be disappointed by my failure to meet them. In recent years, I’ve (mostly) learned to edit myself.
Still, it’s in my nature to strive, and striving is useless without a sense of direction. Maybe I’ll consider some general goals. Ambitious but realistic ones. (And then I’ll cross my fingers against a massive snowstorm.)
One Sunday in Winter
Acey and I went out today. We left in mid-morning, while frost still clung in the furrows of barren fields. We wandered the roads around home, waved to Sunday drivers in farm trucks and shirts and ties.
We watched our shadow flow along the frozen ditch ~ just one shadow, shared between us. We paused to study other horses in their pastures, ducked the whir of pheasants passing overhead, stopped where we found bunches of grass left green by fall.
Our trek of seven miles took two hours. But who cared? Trotting felt like too much work; worse, as though it would pound out the silence of our winter day, which rang bright and ephemeral as a church bell half the town away.
These are the days for easy rides, for walking if we please, to prolong the miles and soak the sun through our many layers of coats and mane and gloves. The farmland is shorn to shades of brown. There is nothing, and everything, to see.
The world curls around herself, catlike, set to sleep through Christmas and the New Year. She’ll awake around Valentine’s Day, blushing and moody. We’ll smile while she bobs slowly into consciousness, having watched her all this while, and wondered.
Perhaps we are what she dreams about.
_______________
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Rock My World: Owyhee Canyonlands 2011, Day 2
Okay, I’m a couple weeks late getting this story up, but bear with me — there’s a surprise at the end.
Thinking back…
Day 2 was a Wednesday. It dawned warm enough that light, long sleeves plus a fleece vest were plenty. I saddled Consolation for her first ride of the week, while Karen prepared Thunder for his second. We started behind the herd as usual, and at first it seemed we’d have a smooth beginning. BUT…
We were barely out of sight of camp when Consolation began acting strangely. She refused to trot. Lashed her tail. Tossed her head repeatedly and violently to the right, nearly hitting my knee. Threatened to buck.
Oh. Crap.
Was she tying up? Was her tack pinching? Was she colicky? Crampy? Just plain bitchy?
I dismounted twice, uncinching, checking boots, and re-adjusting her saddle pad. I tested her hindquarters for cramps, observed her expression and flank for signs of distress. Nothing. Karen couldn’t see anything either. Nothing but odd behavior with no apparent cause. Walking seemed okay, but trotting aggrivated her — any trotting, but particularly downhill. We tried sending Thunder ahead as motivation. Nothing doing.
So, we walked on for a mile or so, hoping that whatever the problem was would work itself out. When we came to the first uphill, I asked for a trot again, and Consolation agreed to move out. She still felt a bit sticky, but the head tossing and tail-lashing had abated. Her respiration and gait seemed quite normal. We carried on.
Over the first five miles or so, Consolation gradually relaxed. The strange behavior resurfaced a few times, but grew milder and then disappeared. All we could figure was that she had a few hairs sideways and decided to be marish about it. Perhaps all she needed was a bit of sweat under her saddle.
The trail led across the desert, dropping into a small canyon whose terrain slowed us for the last mile into the first vet check. Though we’d only gone about 12 miles, Consolation was very interested in grabbing weeds to munch as we picked our way along. She isn’t normally that hungry so early in a ride. I speculated that the last night’s windstorm has interrupted her eating, maybe even made her a touch belly-achy from stress. In any case, she seemed fine — just hungry.
Ironman met us at the hold, where Consolation received an unusual B on gut sounds but proceeded to eat and drink well. Half an hour later, he waved as both horses trotted briskly out of the check, headed for a 25-mile loop known for very rocky footing and a horny jackass.
(Yes, I did say a horny jackass. We’ll get to that.)
The reports of rocks were not exaggerated. Karen and I took the loop slowly, not willing to risk our horses’ soundness on the rough footing. Those 25 miles took nearly 4 hours, but they were scenic, the weather pleasant, and the conversation engaging. We climbed into sage and juniper country (which made me sneeze), dropped down to Crazy Woman mine, and passed an amazing stone corral.
Somewhere down there, a gigantic, horned owl flew up and Consolation spooked so hard she jumped right out of a hind boot. I barely talked her out of a buck-and-bolt as the boot flapped by its gaiter, but managed to dismount safely and re-install it…just in time to climb the hill to our next adventure: The Horny Jackass.
He’s a legend. Everyone at the Owyhee rides knows about him. He runs with a pair of wild bachelors, and earned his name for his aggressivly amorous behavior toward passing horses. Horses under saddle. Horses on endurance rides.
We hoped not to see him (despite wanting a look at his wild herdmates), but you know what’s coming… We followed the ribbons toward a fenceline above the stone corral, glad to be trotting again after all those rocks, and then we spotted them — the two horses and the Horny Jackass — right smack in the trail ahead!
Uh-oh.
Karen opened the gate through the fence while I gathered a handful of rocks in case we needed to defend our horses’ honor. (Do I look like I need a Barb mule??) We debated whether leading or riding would be better, and opted for leading. We scooted away from the trail, giving the Horny Jackass a wide birth. He followed us with eyes and ears, but kept his hooves planted. Whew!
On we went, and on, and on…
Back at the vet check, Ironman told us that the frontrunner’s gelding had had a rather personal encounter with the Horny Jackass. Fortunately, no one was hurt (except, perhaps, the Jackass’ ego).
Consolation’s gut sounds were back to an A, her behavior was completely normal, and all was well as we set out for our final 12 miles back to camp, where we finished in the back third of the pack, which was just fine with us, especially since Karen had her sights on riding Thunder all 5 days.
We vetted through in fine form, and then began the preparation for the following day. No rest for the wicked! Administer electrolytes, untack, clean boots, hose down, soak beet pulp, restock saddle bags… Finally, Ironman grabbed a couple beers and we led Consolation over to the grass to graze while watching the last riders come in.
Half an hour later, I suggested we take Consolation back to the trailer so I could put clay on her legs and shower before dinner. Ironman agreed, but said we should take the long way back, around the upper drive instead of through camp.
But why? The other way is shorter!
Oh, c’mon. It’s a nicer walk.
Well, okay.
So we went the long way. But Consolation was hungry, eager to get back to her hay. Halfway around the drive, I turned her for a shortcut to the trailer. Behind me, Ironman said, “Wait.”
I pivoted. And he was kneeling on the gravel. With a ring.
The details are my secret. Suffice it to say that as I walked back to the trailer under a warm, evening sun, I had a good man in one hand and a good horse in the other. That seemed just about right to me.
We’re Back!
Canyonlands was amazing. Stories are coming soon, but for now, here’s evidence that Karen Bumgarner, Thunder, Consolation, and I are getting this down to a style: Synchronized dismount!
Over and Out
We’re out of here!
Out of the picture. Off the grid. On vacation!
It’s a brisk morning on the farm, but the sun is rising in a clear, still sky. Weather for the ride is supposed to be fabulous for the people, though a bit hot for the horses. Highs in the 80′s and lows in the low 50′s. Beautiful. Of course, out in the canyonlands, you just never know. I’ve packed plenty of blankets for people and horses, just in case!
Time for a week among the ponies. Happy.
Tamara Baysinger
