Tammy & Lark: Early Morning in Calero Park

Sunny and I have been enjoying the NATRC rides:  new trails, learning things, and meeting new people.  I decided Sunny and I would do the Bear NATRC, in Calero Park, near San Jose.  It’s relatively close to Santa Cruz, so no five hour drives.  Also, the ride was on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, which means that we would be in camp on Saturday afternoon, ride on Sunday morning/afternoon, and come home on Sunday night.  Since it *was* Labor Day weekend, there wouldn’t be crazy traffic on either Saturday afternoon or on Sunday night, coming home.

We got to camp about 2 PM and set up next to Tammy and Doug, with whom Sunny and I had ridden at Jackson Forest on the first day.   As I got Sunny out of the trailer, Laura, who I rode with on Day 2, showed up.  The Gang was all there.

The one thing I was really worried about was the temperature. Most of the other horses are from inland, where it’s been stinkin’ hot. Over here, it’s been a really cool, damp summer, so Sunny’s not used to the heat at all.  While I was sitting in the ride meeting, it got cooler and cooler, until several people left to get jackets.  Ha!  All was well – actually, it got really cold, as in I had to blanket Sunny!

The alarm went off at 5:30 and it was still dark.  I fumbled around in the dark until 7 AM, when the ride started, and Tammy and Lark and Sunny and I went to the start line.  Sunny was as nervous as she’s ever been at a ride, and threw a little fit every time time Lark got out of sight.   I guess they bonded, spending the night together.

Laura and Tango

We met Laura and her horse, Tango, at the start.  I was supposed to ride with Tammy and Lark, but deep down I figured that Laura and Tammy would ride together:  Tango and Lark are both *really* fast walkers, both having left Sunny in the dust at Jackson Forest.  However, I got lucky and Tango was in total go mode.  Within about 5 minutes, Tango just power walked away from us.  Tammy and I were on our own.

And Tammy wasn’t having an easy day, either: about a half mile from the start, at the first significant downhill, Lark started bucking and threw about three bucks every five yards or so.  It did not look fun.

Lark calmed down after the first downhill, and we started walking out.  Sunny did *great*,  keeping up with Lark for most of the ride.  The ride. It was killer.

Bear NATRC Route Map

It was 18.8 miles and, by my measurements from the topo map, there was about 3800 feet of climbing in it.  And there was a total of about a half mile of flat.  By the way, the start of the ride is the point at the top, up near the lake.

We climbed up to about 1200 feet by lunch, which was on the trail. We packed lunch bags and ride management took them out to a point on the trail.  Tammy and I both put grain lunches for the horses in our bags, so the four of us ate lunch together, several miles out of camp.

After lunch, the trail went straight up to 1800 feet, where there was a Pulse and Respiration check.  There was one before lunch, as well, but it was pretty routine, that is, Sunny came down and almost went to sleep during the 10 minute wait before the P&R were measured.  At the afternoon P&R, she came in with a 120 bpm heart rate.  After about 7 minutes, she was down to somewhere between 40 and 48 bpm, which is typical for her.  As soon as the woman stepped up to take her measurements, her heart rate went up to 60. The woman stepped away, it went down to 48. She stepped up again, it went up to 60. It was pretty funny – I think Sunny just didn’t like the volunteer!

As soon as we got out of the P&R, the trail headed downhill, and we only had about 7 miles to go.  In some ways, the downhill was as bad as the uphill. There were really steep parts, and the trail was leaf-covered and slippery; the mares had to really watch their steps, and even being really careful, there were a couple of pitches that they slalomed down on their rear ends.   The consolation was the beautiful views all the way down.

Lake View

We were doing well – until the guns started to go off, that is.  Sunny is somewhat used to them because they shoot them at the dump near Wilder Ranch, but Lark had never heard gunfire before.  Someone was shooting guns in a canyon close to the trail, and they sounded close and they echoed. The shots came at random intervals and every time they started, Lark jumped.  The shots finally quit, but we didn’t know they were over, so we stayed braced for another round. Sheesh.

We were relaxing a little when Sunny did the biggest spook of her career. I stayed on, but just barely.  Just as she came to rest, pointing backwards, a little chestnut gelding came barreling around the corner behind us.  The rider sort of grinned and shrugged and went on up the next hill – I interpreted the look as “I’m just a passenger here!”  Tammy and I shook our heads and continued on behind them.

View from the Top of Calero

About three-quarters of a mile up the trail, the little chestnut was completely down on the ground, with the rider trying to rouse the horse to get up.  The rider said that they were trotting along when the horse tripped and almost went down, then recovered. He was still unsteady so the guy just got him off the trail when the horse collapsed and wouldn’t get up.  Tammy and I listened to him and watched the horse – he wasn’t breathing.  I pulled the heart rate monitor from Sunny and took it over to the downed horse and put the electrodes on him – no heart beat either. The horse was dead.

We weren’t sure what to do.  Although Tammy and I both thought that the horse was gone, we both thought that he should be seen by the vet, just to make sure. The way these rides work is that almost the whole management team goes on the trail to man the P&Rs and obstacles, so we weren’t sure if anyone in charge would be in camp.  On the other hand, we knew the vet and safety riders were behind us, but we didn’t know exactly where.

We decided to split up.  Tammy would go forward and see what she could do from camp. If she could get into phone coverage, she’d call 911 and have them contact the park rangers.  I’d go back, toward the last vet check.   I’d probably run into the safety riders first, but they had contact info for ride managers, so maybe they could get in touch with someone.  So off we went.

I rode Sunny for about a half mile until I figured out that she’d already done about 17 miles of hills and we were going to have to get back to camp somehow, so I got off and started walking.  Sunny was a handful; she definitely knew the direction of home and she definitely didn’t want to leave Lark.  Then we passed four more riders going toward camp, and she wanted to go with them, too.

We made it about another mile before we ran into the safety riders. I mounted and we trotted back to the site. One of the safety riders had a cell phone that got coverage – I don’t know what carrier she had – and started down the list of ride management.  I had been riding with my GPS, so when she was able to contact someone, I was able to tell them exactly where we were.

While the safety rider was calling around, I was talking to the rider. His name was Mike Tracy and he’d owned the horse for 22 years. He told me that they’d done endurance and ride-and-ties, as well as NATRC.  Later I talked to other people about them.  It turns out that they had done the Tevis 6 times, and had won the Pard’ner Award from the American Endurance Ride Conference (AERC) in 2007.

After help was alerted, the safety riders stayed with the rider and his horse, and Sunny and I rode on in alone.  When we got in, we had (of course) blown through our time limit. Ride management, without my asking, did a rules check with the judge and rules interpreter and adjusted our time so that we could compete.

Meanwhile, the park rangers and ride management had gotten together and verified that the horse was dead and gotten its body down to camp, where the rider had it loaded into his trailer, and he left.

I talked to several people about the horse and rider. The rider was Mike Tracy and the horse was Aron Moon. The award write up is at the AERC website . I think that Mike will end up taking comfort in the way that Aron Moon went. He had just gone through a vet check, so he was good to go thirty minutes before he died. The vet looked at his body and saw that his gums were completely white, which means that he burst an aneurism and bled out. The vet guessed that it took no more than 20 seconds for the entire event – Aron Moon had no time to feel pain.

Dinner and the awards meeting were subdued, but Sunny ended up winning best horse in our class again (Novice lightweight) and I won best horsemanship in our class.

It was a really stressful ride, especially for Sunny, I think. First, she had to do an additional three miles, and to do them, she had to leave her buddy. Also, a horse died at our barn, and the other horses seemed to know it and were unusually wired until the body was taken away.

Anyhow, Sunny was a complete piece of work after the race. She couldn’t settle down at the trailer when I was trying to clean her up. Then, when the vet was doing her check, she tried to kick her! When I took her back to the trailer and went to dinner, she pawed and whinnied. When I loaded her into the trailer after dinner, for the first time in her life, she started to paw and kick in the trailer.

So. What’s up? Did I let her get too bonded to Tammy’s horse, Lark? Could the whole experience put her on edge? What can I change next time to keep her more comfortable?

wanna ride?

donna

Constant readers may recall that Sunny and I did a NATRC (North American Trail Riding Conference) ride in May.  It was Sunny’s first large group ride and my rationale for taking her to a NATRC ride was that everyone had a stake in keeping things calm. It worked to perfection, we had a great ride (thanks, Marybeth!), met some fun people, and we even won!  I haven’t done another because there were only a couple this summer and we had schedule conflicts; but it was definitely part of my plan to do more.

It could have just stayed a plan for quite a long time (I’m like that), but, fortunately, my mother-in-law, Kelley,  came to visit from east Texas, where it’s been over a 100 for a month, with high humidity, and there has been lots of stress due to various illnesses in the family.  As soon as Kelley knew she was coming to Santa Cruz, she requested a trip in my camper -  a show of womanly solidarity since, Wayne, her son/my husband, refuses to have anything to do with the camper, including going camping in it.  She’s that kind of mother-in-law.

With encouragement like that, I *had* to find a camping opportunity, and fortunately there was one:  I asked Kelley to crew for me at the Jackson Forest NATRC, a 2 day ride.  Day 1 mileage was 19+ miles, Day 2 was a little over 11 miles.  Jackson Forest is between Willets and Ft. Bragg, about 200 miles north of Santa Cruz, so I was glad it was a 2 day affair – Sunny would probably go on strike if we trailered that far for a day ride!  Kelley accepted the job and we were a go.

We got to the campground in Jackson Forest about noon on Friday and it was gorgeous. The day was clear but cool.  The campground was dedicated to horses, and filled with beautiful trees – they might have been redwoods, they had that stature – and was bordered by a large creek, which we could hear from our campsite.  Best of all, for the purposes of de-stressing Kelley, there was absolutely no cell phone coverage.

As happened at the last NATRC we went to, several people came to help me get the rig parked, so that went quickly.  We set up camp and met our neighbors, then I went over and checked in.  When I checked in, I had  to take my tack with me, so I could  get weighed with it to see if I was a lightweight (<190 lbs total) or a heavyweight.

After weigh-in, I got my rider’s packet, with my maps, and numbered bib (for me),  numbered ribbons (for Sunny), and numbered index card (for the trailer).  The trailer needs the number because you are judged on how your campsite is set up – it has to be safe for your horse and others.  So, for example, I lost a point because I didn’t “lock” the quick release knot that tied Sunny to the trailer – the judge felt that if Sunny got mouthy, she could untie my knot and get loose: not a pleasant prospect. By the way, this time, the maps were understandable – looking at them, I thought I could navigate. Yah!  I felt *so* much more confident.

I put the numbered items where they belonged and took Sunny down to vet in, which she did in fine form.  Part of the check is a trot out: you and your horse trot away from the vet in a straight line, then turn and trot back towards him/her, then stop and send your horse around in a circle at a trot, once in each direction. Doing the trot out, when I was making the turn to trot toward the vet, I just let Sunny go in  a wide circle around me, like I was lunging her.  After we got done with the entire pre-ride check, a young woman came up to me and told me that the judges liked to see the change of direction done with the horse on the inside, with the handler moving the horse’s shoulder, to demonstrate that the horse respects your space.  This is how NATRC is: everyone seems to be willing to help, even if you’re competing against them.

Anyhow.  That night we had a potluck and a ride meeting, then retired.  Kelley had been having trouble sleeping, so I set her up with about five novels and a book light and headed for bed, since they promised to have a campsite wake-up call at 5:30.  In the morning.  However, before I even got settled in my bed, I could hear Kelley snoring lightly. Whoo hoo – it was working!  And it continued to work:  I got up every couple of hours to check on Sunny and I must have stuck my rear end in Kelley’s face every time I got in and out of the camper, and she never budged.

They played a loud bugle song at 5:30, so I got up and started cleaning Sunny.  Our neighbors, Tammy and Doug, were riding Novice, too. Tammy is a novice, technically, and Doug was last year, but is recovering from an injury, so he just rode to keep Tammy company – they call it “Distance Only”.  Anyhow, we got to the start line at about the same time, so they invited Sunny and I to ride with them, which we did. Oh yeah, just as I was leaving the campsite with Sunny, Kelley appeared in the camper door in her bathrobe, with a cup of coffee in her hand, and waved good-bye.

Lark, Tammy’s mare, led for almost the entire 19 miles.  She walked between 4.5 and 5 mph – Sunny, with my encouragement, will walk 3.8 mph, so she had a tough time. We’d walk mostly, then do a little trot to catch up. I thought about just dropping back, but according to Sunny’s heart rate, , it was just as stressful to leave those horses as it was to have to do a frequent catch-up trot.

Riding with Doug and Tammy had the added advantage of being a learning experience: they had both ridden NATRC as young adults, before they had kids, so while Tammy is riding novice, they both are very competent and aware of the judging criteria.  In particular, they had the timing nailed – we hit our timing marks within 5 minutes through the entire ride.

Sunny did really well, crossing the rivers without question, waiting her turn going through narrow spots and the obstacles, etc.  The only thing that was unusual was that she yawned her way through the P & Rs (Pulse and Respiration checks).  Her pulse was always under 40 beats per minute, and her respiration was usually 8 – 12  breaths per minute, but she’d stand there and yawn repeatedly for about 3 minutes before she’d just stand.  I thought maybe it was because the stress was off; she didn’t have to keep up with anyone for awhile. Any thoughts?

We completed the ride exactly on the minimum allowable time, cleaned up our horses and got them vetted out.  I then returned to camp – where Kelley was taking a nap – and dozed off in my camp chair while Sunny tore through a *large* flake of alfalfa and about 10 gallons of water.  Actually, the day had stayed cool due to fog – I wore a sweater for the entire ride – and Sunny had drunk well all the way around, so I wasn’t too worried about her hydration, but I was glad to see that she was taking care of herself.

After about two hours, ride management dispatched some juniors to round everyone up and we all had dinner together and they gave out awards for the one day novice riders.  It turned out that Tammy, with whom we’d ridden, was a one day rider and she had a perfect score!  She won the one day competition – fortunately, we weren’t even in the running for that.

After the awards, there was a short ride meeting for the next day and we went back to camp, where we had a repeat of the previous night.  Kelley assured me that she wouldn’t be able to sleep since she’d slept all night the previous night and had napped during the day – and she was *sound* asleep within 5 minutes of going to bed, and again, stayed asleep as I banged around checking on Sunny, then getting ready to leave.

This time, Doug and Tammy were gone – and they took their horses with them!  Sunny was worried, but actually stayed pretty composed as we rode out.  The woman who left  just before us waited as we clocked out, and asked if we wanted to ride together and I gratefully agreed.  This was the woman who’d given me the tip on the trot out, and her name was Laura. She was riding a Missouri  Foxtrotter, named Tango, who walked (this is not a joke) at *6* mph!  Sheesh!  Sunny had her work cut out for her again.

The ride was great. It was 11 miles which, after the previous day, seemed like nothing. Also, the fog cleared where we were and the ride took us to the ridgetops, so we could see all the hills around us, with a sea of fog in the valleys.  It was gorgeous.  The obstacles on Saturday had been natural ones, that is, they were part of the trail.  On this day, about 4 miles into the ride, there was a short path bounded by branches the judges had put on the ground, that made an arc, going up hill, about 5 yards long.  On this obstacle, you had to stop your horse at the bottom, then back uphill and around the arc, staying within the boundaries defined by the branches.

Sunny and Tango both did very well and we walked on.  About 100 yards beyond the obstacle, a pickup truck was parked right in the middle of the road.  All the trails were on hillsides, and in this case, the right side of the pickup was uphill, and the left side had the drop off.  Laura and I were the last riders out – novices leave last – so we figured that the judges had just moved their truck there to be ready to leave when we came through.  Anyhow, there was room on either side of the truck to pass, so we motored on through on the left side.  It turned out that the *real* obstacle was the truck – there was a judge hiding in it – and we were judged on whether we took the high or low side around the truck. Laura and I were both penalized because we took the low side – one of the judges was head vet at Tevas and he said you *never* go on the drop off side, if you have a choice. So. Lesson learned.

We climbed for a little more after the obstacle, then descended for a long, long time.  When it finally flattened out, I got off to check Sunny’s saddle for slippage and discovered that I had lost a screw from her headstall and one side of her bit was hanging loose!  And not a complaint from her.  Sheesh. Anyhow, I immediately pulled a zip tie out of my pocket and said, “No problem, I’ll just zip this back together!”  Which I did, but when I went to put the headstall back on, I realized I had zipped the bit in backwards.  Dang it.  Fortunately, I had a knife to cut the zip tie and Laura had a very low tech strip of leather with which I was able to tie the headstall back together, correctly this time. Sheesh.

After that, there’s not too much to tell – except that Sunny and I both won again, although there wasn’t a second place, so I think we won because we were the only team in lightweight novice, 2 day.  But doesn’t Woody Allen say that 90% of life is just showing up?  Oh yeah, they had a raffle and Kelley won 3 of the 15 prizes, although the good horse-stuff was too big for Sunny and the good people-stuff was too big for Kelley or me.  But it was fun to win, anyhow.

Oh yeah, Sunny continued to yawn repeatedly at the P & Rs.  She was calm, but committed to yawning.  Any thoughts on that?

Also, what are my chances of improving her walk to, say, 5 mph?  I’ve been working with her in the arena on asking for speed increases at the walk and not worrying right now about how fast she’s going.  My logic is that if she learns to go faster when I ask her to, it won’t matter how fast she’s going when I ask – she’ll speed up.  Comments?

wanna ride?

donna

There’s a technical meme that The Husband told me about:  “tl;dr”, which stands for “Too long; don’t read” and people put it at the top of long and pointless blog postings they’ve authored.  I guess people besides me write a zillion words, then realize maybe that there’s less to the story than they thought. Anyhow.  If you’re busy, tl:dr.

The summary is that, while riding drag on the Fireworks Endurance Ride with a friend and her horse, I made a decision for both of us that my riding partner was very uncomfortable with.  I made the decision because I had confidence that Sunny was up to the task and I always figure that if Sunny and I can do it, anyone can. The lesson learned is that if there’s something on the trail that’s noticeable, either for good or ill, I will mention it to my ride partner so that if if *is* a concern we can plan together – just because Sunny is feeling confident doesn’t mean that my partner’s horse is feeling the same.

Here’s the long story:

The Fireworks 50 is an endurance ride put on by the Santa Cruz County Horseman’s Association (SCCHA) every year.  There are 25 and 50 mile options.  The 50 mile route runs from the SCCHA Showgrounds through Henry Cowell State Park, across the San Lorenzo River, to Pogonip and the UC Santa Cruz protected areas, then into Wilder Ranch State Park. The ride does a couple of loops through Wilder, then returns via the same route to the Showgrounds.  It’s a very beautiful ride.  This year, it was held on August 7.

My friend Susan, and her horse Mister, babysat Sunny and me several times last summer, while Sunny was figuring out the trail riding thing.  Mister was a perfect gentleman, and set a superb example for Sunny.  So, several months ago, when Susan asked if Sunny and I would ride drag for the Fireworks with her and Mister this summer, (a) it sounded fun and (b) we owed them. So I said yes, shot off a note to the Ride Manager to that effect, and forgot about it.

Then we got our assignment.  The four of us got to drag the last 18+ miles:  from Hwy 1 all the way back to the Showgrounds.  We had been envisioning something more like 15 miles that didn’t include

• ~75% of the total ride’s climbing,
• crossing Hwy 9 and Empire Grade,
• fording the San Lorenzo River, and
• finding a way to get my trailer from Hwy 1 to the Showgrounds while I was riding.

I thought either Susan or I had pissed off someone in Ride Management, but it turned out that we got that route because it’s the finish of the ride, and I’m a ham radio operator – so they figured we could communicate with the Showgrounds if something happened.

In addition to being longer than we’d anticipated, we got *firm* instructions from The Top to keep in sight of the last riders. This was a sensible instruction because last year, the drag riders were so slow that they weren’t in by dark,  and they had to be located and trailered back to the Showgrounds!  Because no one knew where the drag riders were, none of the volunteers at the vet checks and trot-bys could leave, in case there had been an accident and help was needed.  We understood the reasoning, but we knew it was going to be tough:  Sunny and Mister are both recognized for their steadiness, not their speed, so we were praying for slooooow riders to follow because that’s the only way we’d be able to keep up.

The day of the ride came.  We were told that we’d leave the vet check at about 2 PM, so we got there about 12:45 in order to have time to settle the horses and get ready.  We checked in with the Vet Check manager and were told that the last riders were going to be leaving at 1:10, but that we couldn’t leave until drag riders from the previous loop came in, and they hadn’t been sighted in awhile.  So, we socialized and walked the horses and generally just goofed around. Susan finished grooming Mister and meandered over to the out timer’s desk to say “Hi”,  but came jogging back – there was a change of plans and we were supposed to leave ASAP – they’d given up on us waiting for the drag riders, and wanted us to take off after the competitive riders.

By the time we tacked up and left the vet check we were about 15 minutes behind the last riders – so there was one worry off our plate: it was unlikely that we could make up 15 minutes in 18 hilly miles, so we decided to just make as good time as we could and not worry about it.   So we just started riding.

Side note:  The Amateur Radio community uses events like this as practice runs for disasters; in fact, almost the entire ARES (Amateur Radio Emergency Services) group came out to support the ride.  Because the ride is being used as a dry run for a big emergency, lots more resources are brought to bear on it than it really deserves:  five (I think) manned comms stations, portable repeaters, etc.  All the people sitting around with radios means there is lots of voice traffic.  And the radios sound just like they do on TV:  each transmission is preceded by a loud CHRXXZZRT burst of static, followed by the message.   Three years ago (I think), a rider was trying to get certified for Horse Patrol, which requires carrying a radio.  The first time a static burst came through, the horse panicked and the rider ended up being medi-vacced out. (She didn’t get in Horse Patrol.)  Sunny and Mister totally ignored the radio.  I knew that Sunny didn’t care, but we were initially careful around Mister. After about 10 minutes, it was clear that he was equally uninterested, so I turned up the volume and we stayed in the loop.

It was  a cool and beautiful day. The views of the Bay were spectacular, as usual, and the park was relatively quiet  for a Saturday.  I was monitoring the traffic, which I hadn’t expected to be able to do at that point in the ride because we were blocked by hills and lots of trees.  However, one of the ARES net operators had set up a repeater at the top of the hill, so I could hear all the radio traffic – but net control didn’t know that I could.  I could hear him say, “Move those drag riders along, they’re 15 minutes behind the last rider.”   “Tell drag to hurry up, they’re 20 minutes behind.”  Etc.  Control didn’t much care that we had been turned loose late, he just wanted to avoid a repeat of the previous year.  So we hurried along as much as we could.

Another note:  There was an “underground” mountain bike race scheduled for that day.   Ride management found out about it and got in touch with the organizers, who agreed to call off the race, particularly when they found out that there were going to be a bunch of Rangers out, giving tickets.  I suspect that, as a result of the race cancellation, very few local cyclists came out – most people we ran into were clearly unused to meeting things like strings of horses trotting up the singletrack trails, whereas the locals are totally blase.

The vet check that we left from is in a remote part of the park, but as we emerged onto the more accessible trails, we ran into lots of hikers and bikers, many of whom were interested in the horses and curious about why so many of them were on the trails.  Susan and chatted with them, figuring that friendly cross-cultural conversations were always good, but each conversation took time, so we fell further back.

I was pretty sure we were going to make it in well before dark,  and I wanted to conserve power in my radio in case we *did* have an emergency, so I didn’t respond to the nagging from Control until we got through a couple of checks, and about 8 miles into the ride.  At that point, Sunny and Mister were feeling strong, and Susan and I knew where we were going.  Net control sent a truck down the trail to find out where we were, which was embarrassing. And it turned out that we were only 20 minutes behind the last rider, which I thought was darned good, actually.  So I got on my radio, announced our presence and told Control he was free to send the volunteers at the next stop home, we were within spitting distance of it and were feeling good.  We chatted for awhile and the guy in the pick up truck backed my assessment, so Control released the volunteers.

From then on, since Susan and I knew the trails,  as we got close to points where volunteers were stationed, I’d call in and tell Control to let them to start packing up, so I was on the radio pretty constantly.  Susan, I guess, couldn’t hear what I was saying; all she knew was that it looked like there was an antenna sticking out of my head for the last 9 miles.

Finally, I heard Control ask the volunteers at the San Lorenzo River Crossing if they could stay another 40 minutes, which was how long they thought it would take us to get there.  I called in and told him to let them go – same reasoning as before.  This time, though, he had to check in with Ride Management because the river crossing can be a pretty big deal – the water is about 3 feet deep this summer, there’s a current, and there are boulders at the crossing point.  The ride manager knows Susan and me -  and knows how conservative we are – so she told Control that if we thought we were okay, we probably *were* okay.  So the volunteers packed up and left.

Forty minutes later, when we got there, Susan looked around and said, “Where are our spotters??!!”  I said they’d gone home.  Susan said, “Why did they leave??”  I said because I told them they could.  Susan yelped, “YOU DID WHAT??”

And I suddenly realized that I had been doing all the talking and hadn’t consulted  Susan on this decision; I figured that both our horses had done river crossings before and they were being as bold as brass, so it didn’t occur to me that we’d have trouble making it across the river.  I figured Susan was confident, too.  Unfortunately, that was not the case.

After I apologized for awhile, Sunny started through the river, which is probably about 20 yards wide at the crossing point and crystal clear.  At the point where you enter, the bottom is sandy.  The water gradually gets deeper until it’s about 3 feet deep about 4 feet from the other bank.  At that point, the horses have to pull themselves up on top of two submerged boulders, then turn left and step up again onto the the bank.   We got to the point where Sunny was going to have to climb up on the boulders and she stopped. (At this point, my boots were under water to my ankles.)  She stopped for a long time, and her body had that feeling that told me that it wouldn’t help to encourage her, so I just sat.

I could almost hear her calculating:  “Those rocks look tricky.  And I don’t know where we’re going after I climb up on them. There could be more. And this has been a long, danged adventure already.  If I turn around,  I don’t have to climb on the slippery boulders. And I know the way to back where we started.  But I’d have to go back through the river and down all those stupid hills we came up. And who knows if Mister will follow my lead – he’s such a Mama’s boy!  If I go forward, I’ll get out of this stinkin’ river, at least.  Ah, screw it – I’m going for it!”  And she heaved herself up and out of the river.

Mister followed, no problem, no drama.  After we clambered out of the river, Susan was so relieved that she managed to forget my lack of consideration and we started laughing again. We were only about four miles from the end and the horses were still feeling fresh, so we trotted them up from the river, then walked into ride camp – about 4.5 hours after we started, averaging about 3.5 mph, great for us.

Wayne and Cory had teamed up to get my trailer from the vet check to ride camp at the Showgrounds, so when we got there, the horses had dinner and drinks awaiting them. Both of them immediately took advantage of the offerings, showing no interest in the approximately 80 endurance horses surrounding them.

So. This is the first time, I think, that Sunny and I have been guilty of leading our partners where they were uncomfortable going, without consulting them.   Thinking about it, I suspect that if Sunny continues to grow in confidence, we’ll be leading partners out of their comfort zones a lot – but in the future, I’ll try to recognize when that’s going to happen and make sure everyone has a chance to opt out or, if they’re game, pull up their socks and take a deep breath *before* we jump into the river.

wanna ride?

donna

Hey Gang! Finally have dates for the next two events of 2010.

“All I Wanna Do Is Ride“   October 1-3, 2010     $298

This 3 day camp event is open to anyone who has attended a previous camp or HorseSpeak clinic.   This clinic will focus on riding essentials for both you and your horse.   Under saddle techniques to soften your horse and create more responsiveness will be combined with a strong emphasis on your riding technique.    Upon graduation, you will understand how to move each of your horses feet individually, recognize and ride your horse from nose to tail, develop the skills to create  impulsion and collection,  rate your horses speed,  create balanced gaits,  and gain a sense of  ”feel”.   Just name a few!

I promise you will get all the time in the saddle you can handle!

Trick Training- You and your horse can be the life of the party!

Sept 2-4, 2010       9 am-11 am   $160

This is a 3 part course, each session will be about two hours. 

Learn the concepts of training tricks to your horse.  Using gentle and effective techniques, you will learn how to train your horse to count, shake his head, stand on a pedestal, bow, and even lay down.  Once you learn the steps, and your horse begins to understand the concept, let your imagination be your guide.

Well, just as I thought all was well with Jade’s health, we are now dealing with yet another issue.  This time, not nearly as serious, however, she will have to have another surgery to correct her problem.  She has what is commonly referred to as DDSP, (dorsal displacement of the soft palate).  She had been presenting with a cough upon the beginning of every exercise period.  In order to diagnose the problem, the surgeon needed to fit her with a dynamic endoscopic probe that would show exactly what is happening in her airway during exercise.  My good pal Donna came with me on two trips to Steinbeck to provide moral support and photo document the procedure.

Jade being fitted with the dynamic endoscopic probe

Turns out, Jade throws her larnyx way back in her throat when breathing hard, which in turn cuts off part of her airway.  The bottom line is, she is not getting all of the oxygen required to maintain the kind of stamina necessary to do more than about 8 miles of trail riding.  I have noticed she tires much too easily, and am happy to know that we now have a cause that can be corrected with surgery.

There are two ways to go about this diagnostic procedure; one is having the horse run in place on a treadmill, or have a rider wearing a heavy backpack of equipment that hooks up directly with the probe in the horses nose.

Jade and Cory hooked up and ready

Since Jade had not been taught to run on a treadmill, we opted for the “rider” type test.  She had not been ridden in two weeks, and with a probe up her nose, I felt sure that we would have a bit of a rodeo.  However, once again, Jade surprised me and behaved like the true gem I know she is.  Both Donna and I were amazed at just how perfectly she did everything I asked.  The vets needed to see her in the roundpen, at a trot, a canter and then a fully checked up trot, for assessing the position of the larynx.

Jade doing her part perfectly

For me, this diagnosis was the best possible outcome, because the other things that they were looking at, like lungs and cell abnornmalities would certainly have been more serious than partial airway blockage.  In fact, there is really no rush in getting the surgery done, as long as I keep in mind that she has limitations as to how many miles we can go.  I hope to get some good (short) trail rides in this week, then will look at the calendar to decide what the best time period is for surgery.  Thankfully, the recovery period is short (3-5 weeks) and the surgery is very common, especially among race horses.  Hum…maybe we should look at a career change when she is recovered.

For now, happy trails and I’ll keep the post updated with surgery and recover details. 

So our fearless blogger Donna has come up with a way to get me on the ball writing to my own blog!   She posed a couple intriguing questions and has asked me to respond here for everyones benefit.  First, I haveto apologize for being off the grid for so long now.  Since getting hurt last fall, its been a roller coaster of events and changes for me, some good, some challenging.   Being part of the Trainers Challenge at Western States Horse Expo, was a blast and a very positive experience.  Stay tuned for news of  a very exciting production coming up where 8 of us trainers will be touring together!

Oh yeah, although our own Cruzer began the expo pretty frightened of all the people around, he was a star by the end.  Talk about mass desensitization!   Our scores were solid and the deficiencies are entirely my errors, not his.  In the freestyle competition, the scores ranged from 19 – 49.  Cruzer and I scored a 39.  Honestly, better than I had thought we’d done.

On to Donna’s questions, quoted here from her email.

<<1. Sunny has gotten really s-l-o-w in the arena and for the first half mile when we’re leaving the barn. I don’t think it’s a fear issue in either case:  I’ve handwalked and ridden her out and back over the half mile about 50 times.  She used feel hard and look worried, now she just moves stiffly and looks bored until we turn around. In the arena, I suspect she’s bored because all we do is trot in figures, trying to work on her frame and fitness. And I do the Marybeth special 1-2 -3 thing – “3” is now three taps with the dressage whip I bought at the Expo.  The taps don’t startle her anymore but they do move her along.  I started wondering, though, if I’m dulling her to the taps and I’ll have to escalate more?  I mentioned it to Julie and she “quoted” you, saying that at the clinic, in the 1-2-3 progression, the 3 had to be unpleasant enough to be memorable, so they wouldn’t want to go there again.  So are my 3 little taps, even if they get a change, a new form of nagging?  Or what I thought you said was apply the least amount of pressure you can to get the result you want – and my taps are the right thing?  What if I need to tap her more and more often?  >>

First off, I agree that fear is not her issue.  I suspect boredom is the primary culprit.  You two have logged alot of miles this year!  Anytime your horse begins to exhibit changes in behavior, you want to consider all aspects-physical, emotional, and intellectual.

You always want to explore any possible physical causes first.  Lameness, sore back, tender soles, saddle fit etc.   I know that Donna would have already looked into a medical reason, so we will move on to emotional.

I think emotional causes are the most frequently overlooked.  We are quick to spot fear or agression, but what about the less obvious horses, those  ’get along’  types that aren’t so demonstrative.  They often get tagged as stubborn or lazy.   Boredom with repetition affects horses just as it affects any of us!  Lord knows Ihate doing circles in the arena!  Although Donna and Sunny cover lots of new ground regularily, perhaps there is still a same ole, same ole element from Sunnys point of view.   Its time to add some variety to her experience.  In looking for ideas, new trails would notapply to Sunny.  She is essentially a professional trail horse, with her endurance and trail trial work.    As an endurance athelete, she needs to be kept fit, so you can’t discontinue her conditioning, but add some different elements such as tricks, or cattle work, dressage movements (NO CIRCLES!) Even explore some different disciplines.  Teach her a good spin or a sliding stop and rollback.  Push a ball around with her nose or have her kick it along.   Anything to provide a sense of purpose and, most importantly, a goal she can recognize and complete quickly.   My first choice is always cow work.  Seems like most every horse gets a kick out of being able to push someone else around!  Specially horses lacking confidence or rank.

Now, having considered her point of view and taken steps to alleviate boredom, the fact remains that she still must do what she’s asked when she’s asked to do it.  So let me reiterate the 4 steps of requesting something from our horses.

For the “go-forward” cue:

Step one:   Lift your body and energy while looking for her to lift up, and give you her attention.

Step two:   Starting from your core, slowly bring your legs together, increasing the strength of your “squeeze” as you work down to your ankles.   This is not a super strength, work out on your thighmaster type of squeeze, just a steady firm closing of your legs.

At this point, your horse should make some indication of forward movement.  As soon as you feel anything, even a rock forward, instantly release your leg pressure while keeping your body in the same up/active position.

Step 3:  If she isn’t offering a response yet, raise your hand (or crop) to the side, as if reaching for something from someone standing next to you.   Instantly release at first sign of any forward motion.

Step 4:  If there is still no response, give one solid smack on her butt with enough emphasis to make her step forward, then immediately release all pressure as before, your seat remaining in an up/active position.  Step 4 must be unpleasant enough to wish to be avoided.  Otherwise you are just nagging.   This is not to say causing pain, and one thwack on the butt by any of us wouldn’t even compare to the mildest  kick by another horse.  The startle factor is what causes the forward movement.  One swat on the butt sensitizes her to the 1 and 2 cues.  Repeated tapping on the butt desensitizes her to all the cues.

Steps 3 and 4 are where Donna lost communication with Sunny.  Sounds like you went from a squeeze to nagging with the crop.  Step 3 is a clear signal as to what is next and step 4 follows through.  Personally, I usually just use my hand unless the horse I’m on is too big to reach his butt.  Then, as it always should be, the crop is simply an extension of my hand.

This series of cues, done accurately, will create a soft and light horse every time.  It is one of my few “please do it my way”  cues I try to impress upon my students.  I believe it is the most honest and fair way of asking for a light response from your horse. 

The equitation camp later this summer will really delve into this and more.

This morning I got a note from a friend asking if Sunny and I could meet her and her six year old Lipizzan gelding at the SCCHA Show Grounds.  It would be his first outing from his highly structured dressage barn and she thought he might need a companion on his debut.  Yikes!  This is a horse who wears shipping boots and that goofy hat-thingie when he *looks* at a trailer, and overload stimulation is when there are two horses in the arena at once.  As readers of this blog may have gathered, the Show Grounds can be a scary place for a horse.

I’m pretty sure we got asked because Sunny has a reputation for being a pretty relaxed cookie in most situations, and, even though I know that Sunny is the way she is mostly because it was baked in the cake, I seem to get a lot of the credit for her Dali Lama-esque poise.   Because of that, I felt free to give my friend a list of things to think about – and I’m posting it here if anyone else is facing a First Outing.

Here’s the context.  My friend asked us to go with her and her gelding, Vincent, to the Showgrounds.  We could either meet them there or go together in her straightload trailer, and Sunny has never been in a straightload. Her plan was stay on the ground with him and just walk him around.

Here’s my response (slightly edited):

Deciding whether to

1. do the trailering with a companion horse or
2. have him ride alone and meet another horse at the destination

is a strategic issue I thought about before I started getting Sunny out and about. I took Sunny just about everywhere alone for quite awhile, just so she could learn that there might be friends (and life) on the other end of the trailer ride, even if she had go alone. Also, I’ve seen lots of horses who won’t load unless there’s another horse in the trailer, and I didn’t want her to get the idea that she could be one of those.

And I think trailering together might be a tactical error since Sunny’s never been in a straight load. It would be bad if *she* pitched a fit about getting in with Vincent watching!  Not that I think she will, but first impressions just never seem to go away with horses, and I’d hate to start Vincent’s traveling career with the image of Sunny being stubborn.

Here are some other things to take into consideration:

1.  Sunny and I should be there when you arrive, so when Vincent steps out of the trailer, he sees a familiar face.

2.  When you get there, I suspect that Vincent will be fired up, at least that’s what happened with Sunny.   One way to address this would be to take a quick tour and go home, thus demonstrating that trailer rides ultimately return him home.

3.  Or you could settle in for the afternoon, demonstrating that anywhere you are is (a) safe and (b) it’s his responsibility to settle down and take care of himself, which is what I did with Sunny.

When I took Sunny, before I got her from the trailer, I set up one of the camping paddocks with hay and water. When I pulled her out, I took her on a circuit of the campground, then returned to the paddock where she could eat and not worry about a barrage of new things.  Then I did it again.  And again.  Etc.  I took a book and a lawn chair and sat with her and read while she ate.  She wasn’t completely calm by the time we left several hours later, but she was well fed, able to cope, and she knew that the paddock was her safe place.

4.  Once you figure out what approach you’re going to take and you’re at the Show Grounds,  be prepared to leave any time.  You should expect him to get a little more nervous while he’s making his first couple of tours of the grounds, but if he continues to get more worried, even after you’ve given him some time, you need to get out of Dodge before he gets really scared, both to spare him the anxiety and to ensure the trailer loading will take place while he’s still capable of concentrating.

And if he’s settled down and hit some zen zone of relaxation, be ready to conclude that it’s not going to get better than that, and leave on a high note.

5.  And on the topic of leaving, make sure that Vincent is as good at trailer loading as you can get him, and that you know what to do if he gets stubborn.  I don’t know about other horses, but Sunny is usually willing to climb into the trailer at our barn, but is frequently really *unwilling* to get in the trailer to come home; somehow she hasn’t made the connection that, if she got somewhere in a trailer, she’s going to have to get home in the trailer, too.

On our first or second outing, I couldn’t get Sunny into the trailer. I used all my skills, and tried all my tricks, and got nowhere. I finally called my friend JoAnne, who worked with us before Sunny was started under saddle, and she came from the beach in her sun dress over her bikini, donned her dressage boots, and loaded Sunny in about 39 seconds.  I will treasure forever the pictures of Jo in her tall boots, lacy dress, and dressage whip.  And I’ll also remember how badly I felt about having to call her – so before Sunny and I went out again, we spent enough time working on loading so Sunny stepped in first and thought about it later.

6.  Have a bunch of things you can do on-line, with or without a round pen. The round pen and arena might be far from where you’re starting, so you need to have a plan on how to keep/get his mind in his body when you’re moving him, as well as what you might do in the arena or round pen.  Try to find obstacles to step over and around, so he has to think about how to move his feet.  I guess most importantly, have some skills on the ground so, particularly the Get-Off-Me! command.

7.  Be prepared for behavior you haven’t seen. For example, Sunny’s first barn was isolated and surrounded by trees, cutting off her sight line. When I took her to the Show Grounds, I realized she’d never seen a mounted horse approaching her from far away.  One would come in the trail gate and she’d be paralyzed until she figured out what was going on.  Also, the traffic on Graham Hill Road includes large trucks and motorcycles, so be prepared for the unexpected.

And that’s my response.  By this point, I know that most of you will be looking for my picture in the dictionary next to “sissy”, “conservative”, “fuddy-duddy”, etc – but so many things in Horseland are unpredictable it seems like it’s smart to anticipate as many things as we can.  And if you don’t ever have to use your contingency plans, all I can say is “Congratulations!”

I’d love to hear additional ideas and/or comments from Mary Beth.

wanna ride?

donna

Jim and Jennifer Conferring over the Map

This is (yet another) long post, but I figured that I’d include as much detail as I could for people who might be interested in doing a trail trial – there are two more coming up in July and August. One of them is at Round Valley, which is the back side of Mt. Diablo, and the other is in Walnut Creek.  Check the Trail Trials website for details.

On Saturday, 26 June, Sunny and I did the 2nd Annual Banana Slug Trail Trial, put on by the Santa Cruz County Horseman’s Association.  We did the inaugural event last year (and blogged about it here ), but that was Sunny’s first time out in a large group of horses, so we mostly just survived. This time I was hoping we could do most of the obstacles in an organized fashion.

For those who don’t know, according to the CSHA Trail Trials (TT) group:

A “TT” consists of a ride with approximately 10-12 judged natural obstacles that appear along a trail of several miles in parks or private property. This is not an arena event!

It’s not timed, and people go out in groups on trails, in this case, in Henry Cowell State Park.  The obstacles, usually ones that you might be expected to meet on a trail ride, are set up on the trail.  As you approach them, you’re given a scenario description and specific instructions as to what to do.  You’re judged not only on your ability to execute the task, but on your how well you support your horse through the obstacle.  There are novice, intermediate and advanced groups, so you don’t have to compete with the Pros from Dover.  Anyhow, I enjoyed it last year, even though we were really nervous, and we were looking forward to doing it this year.

Jim and Jennifer, whom we met by doing the ride with them last year, agreed that we should get the band back together, so Sunny and I were ready to go.  We were assigned a start time 10:30 at the SCCHA Showgrounds.  The first three obstacles were on the Showgrounds, then the route went out on the trails of Henry Cowell State Park.

Sunny and I got there about 9:40, about perfect timing:  enough time to forget where I put everything, then remember where it was, and still get tacked up in time – but not enough time to wander around and get *really* nervous.  So, about 10:20, we located Jim and Jennifer and their horses, Montana and Expression, and moseyed down to the large arena, the site of  the first obstacle.

I think the best way to describe the ride is to just talk about the obstacles and what happene, so here goes.

Imagine our surprise when we were the third group scheduled to hit  Obstacle 1 at 10:30.  I know that the organizers scheduled groups at 15 minute intervals, and that no more than 4 horse/rider teams could leave the Showgrounds in any 5 minute period – so I think that they scheduled 12 riders per 15 minute period and the idea was that the riders would sort out the order in real time.  It was the right thing to do – we ran into several groups of 6 or 7 people riding together, and this method allowed that – but it caused us some initial confusion.

The Object of Sunny's Affection - The Mule, not the Person!

It also doomed Sunny and I: among the mounts waiting to do the obstacle, there was a mule, and Sunny, who is usually not too interested in other horses, was riveted by her. I’ve heard that many horses are frightened by mules, but Sunny wasn’t frightened, she was love struck.  I was on the ground when she saw the mule, and she went into high alert mode, pulling me toward her (the mule was a Molly). When she got close she lowered her head and sort of aimed it for the mule’s shoulder. The mule was tolerant, but clearly not as into it as Sunny was.  I pulled Sunny away, but as soon as I would get distracted, she’d start sort of sidling back to the mule. Sunny just couldn’t take her eyes off the mule.

Anyhow, the mule completed the obstacle stylishly, then while her group was organizing to leave, Jennifer and Jim did the obstacle, which was opening the gate into the arena while mounted. When it was Sunny and my turn, the mule finally left.  Sunny couldn’t stand it, she *had* to watch her go – there was no way I was going to get her to stand along side the gate and move *away* from her new found sister. After a short stretch of battling from the saddle, I got off and took her through the gate in hand.

I think it was the right thing to do for a couple of reasons:  (1) Sunny was really distracted and it was a stupid place to have a battle and (2) I discovered that I did, in fact, have expectations of doing well, and they instantly disappeared since we had totally failed on an obstacle, so we could just ride.

Obstacle 2  was on a really narrow little singletrack at the back of the Showgrounds.  We waited there for over 20 minutes – we couldn’t figure out what was taking so long.  I killed the time talking to the people waiting behind us, who had come all the way from Marin.  One of them had her horse in a rope halter, she said she only used a bit when she was doing “serious jumping”!

The Line at Obstacle 2

When it was finally our turn, the instructions were “There is a 300 foot drop to the left and stinging nettles to the right.  Keep your horse between them and walk to the judge.”   We did pretty well at staying on the trail, I think, which was only the first part of the task.

When we got to the judge, she instructed us to walk forward to the bottom of a little hill, then do a u-turn and go up this little zig zag chute defined by ribbons. It was about 4 feet wide, and about 15 feet long, with one bend in it. We had to walk to the end of the chute, then back out, staying within the ribbons in both directions.  We did pretty well, but we got off track a little when we were backing up – I could tell because we ripped the ribbon out of its pins, which was what was taking so long:  they had to reflag the course after almost every rider!

Obstacle 3 consisted of pens with with llamas and miniature horses in them. That caused Sunny consternation last year, but this year, after Cowgirl Camp and The Gauntlet, it was no problem.

After Obstacle 3, we left the Showgrounds and got onto the trails in Henry Cowell.   Jim’s horse Montana and Jennifer’s mare, Expression, were both in a hurry, so Sunny and I volunteered to bring up the rear.  This had the disadvantage of making Sunny always have to watch her buds leave just before we did the obstacle.

Actually, by the end of the ride, she had (a) seriously buddied up with Montana and Expression and (b) thought the obstacles were A Good Thing, since Expression and Montana consistently left her behind on the trail, but when they stopped to do an obstacle, she could catch up with them. This is not my imagination, I watched it happen:  by the last half mile of the ride, when we were walking at 3.8 mph, very gradually losing ground on the other horses, Sunny’s heart rate got up to 197.  When we got to the last obstacle and she caught up, it went down to 78 almost immediately

Back to the ride.  We left on Emma’s Trail, which is a narrow singletrack that drops down, then switchbacks up a pretty steep hill, complete with a water crossing and handrails that you have to thread through.

Obstacle 4 was right at the top; all the horses were stopped on the singletrack well before the actual obstacle, so you couldn’t see what was being asked. When it was our turn, we were told to ride down the singletrack and the judge would tell us what to do next.  At the end of the singletrack, where the judge was, there was a picnic table with two large coolers on it.  The judge’s instructions were to ride to the table, side over and open the blue cooler, take a fortune cookie from it, read the fortune aloud, close the cooler and ride off.

We marched boldly up to the table, which was a good first step, but Sunny appeared to have lost all notion of lateral movement (and this stayed true throughout the day! Dang!), so in response to my efforts to get her to side to the table, she kept her nose pointed at the cooler and rotated around it – to the left when I put on right leg and to the right when I put on left leg.

I finally got her to pause for long enough to it to make a dive for the lid  (yet another advantage of having a tiny horse), which I opened. We then rotated several more times until I saw my chance, and repeated the maneuver to pick up a cookie, which had no fortune in it.  However, there was a sign on the inside of the cooler lid which said, “If your cookie doesn’t have a fortune in it, say ‘I’m riding the best horse in the world.’”  So that’s what I did.  Then we did our fly-by one more time and I closed the lid.

The judge was very kind; she said that Sunny had the makings of a great competitive horse, that she *never* refused anything I asked,  and that she kept trying to figure out what I was trying to do.

Obstacle 5 was called Yellow Jackets.  You had to park your horse between two cones. When the obstacle assistant yelled “Yellow Jackets!”, you had to put your horse into a trot as quickly as you could, then bring her to a stop between two more cones about 3o yards down the path.  The scoring was based not only on how quickly you got going and stopped, but how easily you accomplished it, that is, using your seat to go and whoa.  We did all right on this one.  I think.

Obstacle 6 was after we hit the top of the hill and were on our way down. It was a “continuous downhill motion” obstacle.  The trail is very sandy and really got hammered by the winter rains, which exposed a zillion roots running across and above the trail. Also, the park has installed 18″ high boards across it to act as mini-retaining walls.  The instructions were to descend to the judge without stopping, then stop at the judge.  The path was about 30 yards long and *ugly* – some of the drops were about 18″ straight down and Sunny’s just not that big, so she had to pick her path carefully to not lose her balance.  We made it, though, although I don’t know how I rated on balance, and I think Sunny may have actually come to a stop a couple of times.  In any case, we didn’t hurt ourselves, so we moved on to Obstacle 7.

Actually, we moved to the waiting area for Obstacle 7, where we caught up with Sunny’s love-mule again.  The one-sided lovefest continued, with Sunny subtly jockeying to be close to her, and she was heartbroken when the mule left.

On this obstacle, you had to step over a log that had fallen during the winter, so it was sort of surrounded by, and buried in branches and duff, then walk your horse to the narrow end of a picnic table, which you had to dismount onto, then lead your horse around to the other end of the table and remount, again from the table.

I believe I mentioned before that Sunny had forgotten how to move laterally? Well, she still forgot.  Also, I never dismount using the stirrup, I always do the emergency dismount (I figure I’ll never remember to do it when I’m scared unless it’s the only thing I do), so as she was sort of drifting by the table in the best position I thought she was going to get to, I tried to step off, but I forgot that I needed a foot in the stirrup, missed the table, and fell on the ground! Sheesh, how embarrassing!  Anyhow, Sunny didn’t seem upset by it, and I *had* managed to get off her, so I got back on the table, led her around it, and remounted.

Oh yeah, and to add insult to injury, before you mount or dismount, go up or down hill, or drag or pull anything, you have to check your cinch to make sure it’s tight.  I didn’t check it before I got off or before I got on.

Obstacle 8 was about distractions, I think.  It was staged on a doubletrack trail.  You had to stop between two cones and wait for the judge to tell you to proceed.  Before she did that, two pedestrians started down the path, from a point just in front of you.  When the judge called you, you had to pass the pedestrians, who were pushing a baby carriage and carrying a fishing pole and beach ball, and come to a stop between two cones, next to the judge.  An assistant asked each of us to give her our maps, then, while she asked us questions about our horses, she waved the map in the air. When she was done with the questions, she passed it back to each of us, with a great flourish. Last year, Sunny would have had a heart attack. This year, no problem!  Hmm. It might have helped that the judge was Wendy Killingsworth, who does body work on Sunny and whom Sunny adores.

It was sort of funny that this was called “The Pedestrian” obstacle:  the Henry Cowell campground was full and the trails were *busy* – we must have run into 50 pedestrians who weren’t part of the trail trial, they were just “civilians” out for a hike. With their dogs, backpacks, strollers, toddlers, etc – so, except for the part with the map, if you had made it this far, this obstacle was definitely a gimme!

Obstacle 9 was The Big One, although I’m not sure the organizers knew how big it was going to be.  It was the river crossing, with complications.  Here they are:  the Henry Cowell campground was full, so there were lots and lots of kids playing in the river, complete with beach balls and frisbees.  Also, their parents figured out early that the horses and riders were going to be fun to watch, so they camped out on the hillside, with beach towels, umbrellas and cameras.   Finally, the horses were using the same “single lane”  access trail that the people were using, so any time a kid wanted to come up from the water or go down to the water, the horses had to wait, so there was literally a 30 minute wait to attack the river.

So. When it was finally our turn, Sunny did a beautiful job of walking the steep little trail down to the water.  She hesitated a little going in, but with low key urging, she continued. The river was about 18″ deep and clear, with a mostly sand bottom.  Because it was so clear, you could see that there was one place where the sand had been washed away from the underlying black rock. I let Sunny pick her own way, so even though I was surprised when she chose to leave the sand and walk on the rock, I rolled with it – but she slipped. She didn’t go down, but she thrashed around and moved *lots* of water. When she finally steadied out, the spectators gave her a round of applause, which was way more scary than losing her footing!  Anyhow, we got across the river, rode around a path outlined by flags and got back through the river uneventfully.

Jim and Jennifer Waiting for Us after the River Crossing

Obstacle 10 was a vet. We had to ride to a point, stop, dismount, loosen the girth and hand walk our horse to the vet for a respiration check, then remount. No problems there; I may have even remembered the girth check before I dismounted.

Obstacle 11 was also more rider-oriented than horse -oriented.  You had to dismount, tie your horse to a tie bar, and clean the left rear hoof.  You had to tie with a guaranteed quick release knot and you had to be carrying a hoof pick, to be successful on this one.  Fortunately, they tell you what knot they want to see in the Appendix to the Trail Trials rules and I had read the rules,  and I always carry a pick in my pack, so we were good.  It was also nice to see a couple of friendly faces:  Scott and Cristie Thomas were working this obstacle and it’s always great to see them.

Cristie, Hard at Work

Obstacle 12 was the only one that I was concerned about getting dumped on.  You had to walk tyour horse to the judge, who handed you a large rain coat, put the rain coat over the front of your saddle, ride around a little path, lift the coat off your saddle and give it to the judge.  Sunny was perfect. Again, last year she would have had a heart attack.  Whoo hoo!

Obstacle 13, the final one, was pretty funny.  We were riding down a nice singletrack, and there was a clipboard hanging in the middle of the trail, about shoulder high on me. The task was to grab the clipboard, take the pen that was clipped to it, write your name, then put the pen back, let the clipboard go and ride on. Montana refused it, with drama, so I was a little concerned about Sunny.  When it was her turn, Sunny marched up to the clipboard and started banging it with her nose. Finally, she managed to whack it in my direction, so I grabbed it as it flew by and followed the instructions.  No worries, and we bopped along back to the Showgrounds.

The ride was about 8 miles by my gps and it took about 5 hours and 45 minutes – there was a *lot* of waiting.  Some people were really put off by the lines, but I think it’s an important part of the discipline – I know that patience is a truly desirable quality in a horse and I really appreciate the chance to practice it in the company of other people who have an investment in keeping things calm.   All the volunteers were pleasant and efficient, and the judges were kind and calm.  And the trails at Cowell are beautiful (although Wilder rules!) and well worth seeing.  So, we had another great adventure.

wanna ride?

donna

Jade and Cory on the Salinas River Beach

I wanted to share my latest breakthrough with Jade, the horse that I almost gave up on earlier this year. After much deliberation, I came to the conclusion that I needed to try a little harder to help Jade with her fears and bad behavior on trail rides.

My first course of action was to use a trainer to work with her at the beach (crashing waves and all), because it is a place where she has shown extreme anxiety in the past. By the end of the training session, Jade was trotting through the water as the waves moved in and out, something I thought I would never witness. In the process, she needed a lot of support from the trainer, but trusted her as she got right in the water with Jade.

After the session, another of my dreams came true…I rode Jade bareback on the beach.  She had the most beautiful, smooth trot in the sand and it was everything I hoped for.  We have been back for at least 3 more rides on the beach and all of them calm and uneventful.  Wow!  This helped me with the decision to go the next step.

My next plan was to take her up to the Trinity Mountains, where I have my horse property, with no other horses there to support her…only me. The idea I had was that if she had only me to rely on, it might build her trust in me while out on the trail.

When we arrived, (after a 9 hour haul), she was anxious to get into her corral and have a big drink of water. She would not eat the hay I put out, as she was not yet comfortable enough to put her head down to eat. I set up a chair next to her stall and sat there until she finished most of her hay. Over the course of the next 8 days, I sat in that chair a lot to remind her that I was there for her and she was not alone. When I would get up to walk back to the house, she would whinny at me…just like I was her horse pal leaving the barn. I felt my plan was working just like I wanted it to.

Jade Chowing Down in the Pasture

Once Jade began to feel at home, she gladly went out into her corral and grazed for hours in belly deep grass.  My incredible husband, along with some local labor, were able to complete our ~4 acre pasture fence, so half way into our trip, Jade had an entire pasture to herself.  She appeared by all accounts to be a “happy camper”.

Jade Owning the Whole Pasture

We rode every day out of the 8 days we were there and had not one single bad incident. We rode solo, we rode with my husband on his bicycle and we rode with a hiker, with no problems.

We even found ourselves useful when two young adults (a brother and sister) tragically drowned up river from our swimming hole. The bodies were lodged under a large boulder with no way to recover them. The recovery team was hoping that after a few days, they would become more boyant and begin to float downstream. Jade and I (with binoculars and camera) headed up the river canyon trail as far as we could safely go, watching the river along the way. Some deer in the trail gave Jade a start, but she hardly reacted compared to previous similar encounters. The day before that some hikers had run into a rattlesnake on the trail, so we were keeping our eyes out for snakes as well. As much as we tried, we were unsuccessful in having any sightings of, or helping with the recovery of the drowning victims, and by the time we headed back to Santa Cruz, the two bodies still had not been recovered. A sadness sort of fell over our little valley of 200 residents because, of course, everyone knew the folks that died.

On a lighter note though, one of the best rides Jade and I had was when we rode through town out to the levee along side the little airstrip. I was thinking as we rode,  “I wonder how Jade would do if a plane landed while we were right here”. Lo and behold, while we were along the airstrip, a plane flew low and fast over the the strip. About 1 minute later that plane came in from the other direction for a landing.  Jade merely glanced at the incoming plane and never missed a step. She was completely unfazed by it. Wow…I think she grew up overnight!

On our way back towards the barn, we took a detour. I wanted to go down to the river and practice river crossings. However, when we got there, the river was running much more swiftly and deeply than usual for this time of year. Not wanting to put us in harm’s way, we decided to go in only knee deep and have a drink, then come back out. I am confident that if conditions were right, Jade would not have any problem crossing the river.

We headed up the trail from the river, and on our way home, discovered the Farmer’s Market in progress in front of the post office. Jade had several admirers there and they were all vying to hold her for me while I purchased a loaf of homemade walnut bread. After that, the two of us headed off, not into the sunset, but pretty darn close. We went back home with bread in arm, and both feeling quite proud of what we had accomplished together.

I am now at the point that I believe Jade is fast becoming the solid trail horse that I wished for long ago. I am so pleased that I realized, before it was too late, that taking more time and commiting to sometimes uncomfortable training situations can help make a horse your ideal partner.

Henry Coe State Park is the second largest state park in California and the largest one in Nor Cal:  87,000 acres and over 300 miles of trails.  I used to ride it on my mountain bike when I was *really* fit, and I’ve been itching to get back to it on Sunny, when *she’s* really fit.  It’s rough, hilly terrain and can be ungodly hot – but also tremendously beautiful.   There’s no place for wildflowers like Coe, and from the ridge tops you can see forever – a biking friend and I saw the snow-covered Sierras one January.

The problem with riding in Henry Coe is that you have to find a like-minded companion; I suspect friendships could be lost by enticing an innocent friend to bring their horse and explore.  Fortunately, on our NATRC ride, we met people who share our (okay, my) goals, and Michelle, who sheparded Sunny and I through the NATRC ride, agreed to ride with us from the Hunting Hollow entrance to Henry Coe.

Sunny and I trailered over from Santa Cruz, and Michelle from the Valley.  I thought we’d meet half way, but it took me a little over an hour and it took Michelle two hours.  Sorry, Michelle!

Because of that miscalculation, Sunny and I had about an hour in the parking lot, which turned out to be just fine.  It’s a huge lot, lined on one side by large trees, so I was able to park so that the truck and trailer were in the shade, and there was no worry about getting out or turning around.   There is a kiosk there with maps of the area and coming events, including horse-oriented ones.  And right out the gate, there’s a creek/river that Sunny could drink from and we could practice crossing.

Also, Hunting Hollow seems to be a major mountain biking jump off point (we used to go from Gilroy Hot Springs), so there were bikes and people all over, including one couple erecting a huge umbrella-like sun tent on the back of their truck.  Sunny and I, of course, went over to help them with the flapping nylon.  For once, though, it was fair:  the woman was scared stiff of horses, and by the end she was feeding Sunny. And Sunny was scared stiff of big tents waving in the breeze and she was okay with them by the end.  There were also several families with kids who *needed* to pet a horse, so Sunny stepped up to that, too.

Michelle and her gelding, Fadder (I think), arrived, and got tacked up and ready to go in about 2 minutes.  Michelle had ridden an endurance ride at Henry Coe, so I thought she knew some of the trails.  I had told her that I had

Topo Map of our Route

ridden my mountain bike in Coe, so she thought I knew the trails.  It turned out that the endurance ride hadn’t come to the south part of the park, where we were, and I had only gotten that far south a couple of times, and from a different starting point, so we were both clueless about route. We were forced to consult the map.  We actually did a pretty good job, I think. The thumbnail on the left is a link to a topo map of our ride – just click on it to see more detail. You can probably tell, just from the density of the elevation lines how steep *everything* is.  If you want to follow along, here is a link to the trail map we were using:  http://www.coepark.org/maps/gilroy_entrances/HH_handout.pdf

We left the parking lot and crossed the creek, and immediately hit Hunting Hollow Road.  It stayed flat for about three-quarters of a mile and we crossed the creek 4 times, I think. Then we headed up on the Lyman Willson Trail.  Here is a profile map of the entire ride:

Elevation Profile of the Willson Camp Loop

As you can see, when we headed up, we headed UP.  I think we climbed about 1300′ in about 1.5 miles.  The Lyman Willson Trail  is single track, with good footing and quite a bit of shade – but it’s heinously steep.  Sunny’s saddle slipped back, in spite of her breast collar, so I got off, adjusted the saddle and walked her through a few places, but mostly she hauled my big bottom up that hill until we turned along the ridge top.  Whoo Hoo.  Oh yeah, not too far before the top, we ran into the ONLY person we saw – a lone hiker.

Even when we got to the “top”, it wasn’t flat – the trail followed the ridge top, with its ups and downs.  Fortunately, about a quarter mile from where we turned, there was a stock tank with water in it and the horses got a chance to take a break and take a drink.  That settled me down a little, too, and I was able to see where we had gotten to.  We were on the south side of the ridge, and high enough over the “local” hills and see Gilroy, and the coastal range, with a huge fog bank blowing over it.  Also, there were still clumps of wildflowers blooming:  California poppies, of course, but some beautiful, small white flowers and some blue/purple ones.  I remembered how much I enjoyed just touring in this park.

Soon after that, we got to Willson Camp, where there are a couple of buildings and another stock tank.    At Willson Camp, we headed down hill – the only other option would have taken us too far to feel comfortable, not knowing what the descent was going to be like.

We took the largest path down, Wagon Road, which was good because we felt like we had to walk Fadder and Sunny down several parts of it – and the single track alternatives had signs like “Trail Not Maintained” on them, which made us think they might have had footing challenges, as well as just being danged steep.

We followed Wagon Trail all the way to its end, and almost all the way to the park boundary, then intersected with Hunting Hollow Road and headed for the parking lot.  Hunting Hollow Road was the road we started on, with all the creek crossings, and it kept up – I bet we had to make 5 more crossings.  Sunny didn’t get noticeably less concerned about crossing the creek, but she got really fond of getting knee deep in the water and just stopping.  As I mentioned before, the temperature was tolerable, but only because (a) the wind was blowing and (b) I was riding a horse instead of powering myself up those dang hills.  I suspect it was, subjectively, a much hotter day for the horses.

We made it back in time to make it home in daylight – a perfectly executed ride.  It was about 10.5 miles, about 2200′ of climbing, and it took us about 4 hours and 20 minutes, end to end. Oh yeah, as some of you know, I’m geographically challenged, but between the map and the trail markers, I always felt like I knew exactly where I was.  I was concerned about the terrain, but I was confident we could find our way back to the trailer.  Good job.

It was a great ride in beautiful scenery and I enjoyed every minute of it, except the times when I thought Sunny was going to keel over.  You know, I think of Sunny as being in pretty good shape, but she was d-e-d, dead, at the end of the ride and for two days afterward.  BUT, there was an *endurance race* there the previous day and they were doing *50* miles.  The very thought . . .

wanna ride?

donna