The Nightmare of Tevis - February 2004

After hearing the sad news about Heather Davis last summer, I was jolted into the realisation that there comes a time when you should stop saying "oh, I'll think about it next year" and just get on with your life's ambitions. And so, after covering Tevis for the last seven years–both through photographs and by trying to do the webcast by hand (a copy typist, I am not)–I decided this year it was high time to take the plunge and sign us up. 

And I've created a monster in my head. Now my days are consumed by endless ruminations about the ride and my strategy. My brain rattles around, dredging up various scenarios which send me spiralling into "gulp-mode".

Against us is the fact that we've never gone further than 50 miles (and done that pretty slowly - turtle riders R us). Also not great is the minor detail that my trusty Tevis hopeful–Provo–is going to be 16 this year and hasn't got the soundest of tendons. But we've got to start somewhere, right? 

Looking on the bright side, for the last seven years I've already practised staying awake for 72 hours on 4 hours of sleep over ride weekend, struggling to stay coherent in 100 degree heat. And my saving grace is that we live just off the WST so in theory by July Provo will be able to jog the route in his sleep (assuming he doesn't break before then). 

I'm also blessed with a selective memory. Trying to remember my own phone number - not a hope - but storing away obscure snippets about Tevis is my forte. Couple that with an obsessive personality, and, voila, by the time the ride rolls around this summer I'll have gone over every angle possible (not that this will help me get a sound horse to the start line, or prevent us from being pulled at Robinson Flat, but at least I'll be educated).

Last week, in a continuing effort to instruct myself, I watched the japanese Tevis video three times. You never know what you might have missed in past viewings.

The actual outcome of this not-so-great idea was a night full of nightmares.

In the first dream, I came into Michigan Bluff to be greeted by a sensible nurse-type who announced that, as a courtesy, she would be measuring my feet to ascertain my exact shoe size - length and width. OK, thought I, and sat down to be measured. It turned out I had to wear a special robe while being measured. And then the nurse-type got called away and disappeared for about ten minutes. My unease grew until I suddenly realised "I don't have time for this! I need to get on! Look! It's 2:45 already!" [I should be so lucky to get to Michigan Bluff that early] and I woke up in a panic.

After a few minutes, I managed to get back to sleep. 

In the next installment, I'd arrived at Foresthill, but couldn't find my vet card. I emptied out my pommel bag (filled with papers), followed by my backpack (also filled with papers, which, once turned out on the table, looked suspiciously like the desk in my office) - but no vet card was to be found. Interestingly, I was carrying a quart of oil, though. The panicky thought running through my head was that I didn't even know what it looked like. I tried suggesting to the vet that maybe he hadn't given it back to me after the last vet check, but he wasn't going for that. Finally, the vet card showed up–it had been sitting on the table all along. I was just starting to relax when the vet said "And where's you negative Coggins?"  Ack! What Coggins? I don't have one of those... Quickly I made small-talk, trying to distract him away from this subject and once again woke up in a panic.

If nothing else, I've seldom been filled with more enthusiasm and commitment than I am at present. Poor Provo got ridden 60 miles in January - a month where he normally languishes in the mud, wondering when the next meal-time is coming up. No matter what it's failings, this ride still has the ability to make me go misty-eyed at the slightest provocation. Yesterday I found myself prickling while reading someone's detailed instructions to their crew. The next five and half months are going to be interesting, that's for sure.

The Nightmare of Tevis - March

Despite the current pseudo-summer weather we're having right now, remember a few weeks ago when it poured and poured? My friend Dana and I decided to go ahead anyway, undaunted, and ride down Driver's Flat Road and along WST towards Ford's Bar.

We started our ride with much enthusiasm and hand-walked our horses all the way to the bottom of the hill. I was enthusiastic about this puny attempt at starting to condition myself for Tevis and feeling pretty smug at how easy it was to stride cheerfully down that hill. Of course, two days later when the leg muscle aches caught up, I saw the error of my ways. 

The short stretch of singletrack up to Francisco’s was somewhat schleppy, but easily navigable. Then onwards, along the road. The only time I've ridden this stretch of the WST before was either in the dark or in the daylight in high summer when the road is rock hard, stark white, and the heat reflects off it like a blow torch. So imagine my pleasure at the relatively soft going, together with green ferny additions along the banks at the side of the trail. Couple that with the mist coming off the river and it really was quite lovely down there.

The rain held off, except for a short sprinkle through the sunlight which made for a glitter effect in the air. I briefly debated trying to drag my raincoat out of my cantle bag, but decided against it (for reasons that aren't clear to me).

We hadn't really intended to go much further than the beginning of the singletrack, but time was on our side so we continued. On and on we went and I discovered that, yes, it wasn't my imagination remembering the last time I rode this trail – I really do not feel comfortable on that section of trail. I'm used to drop-offs - around here you have to get used to them fast or you won't be riding anywhere much. But the lack of trees or bushes to stop you falling down that 200' steep slope down to the river really bothers me. Why isn't there any vegetation on that stretch?? 

And of course, despite my best efforts to the contrary, my body involuntarily leaned away from the gaping chasm on my right, causing the horse to lean closer to it. Chin up. Look straight ahead far down the trail. Fake like you're having fun. Provo could evidently feel my disquiet, since he spooked at every LBB (little brown bird) that twitched in the undergrowth, which really helped.

And then it began to rain.

Not “slight drizzle” or “the pitter patter of raindrops”. Oh no. This was rain of the “torrential downpour” variety. Within seconds I was soaked. Provo, who doesn't “do” rain, stopped under the first tree and turned to me with a look of disgust on his face. Of course it was OK, I had my raincoat with me... safely in my cantle bag... awkwardly behind me... on that narrow trail... a nice rustly coat, bright in colour and bound to cause the pone plenty of enthusiasm when I hauled it out and tried to wrestle it on my sodden torso ...over my Camelbak... on that narrow trail... now made quite slippery...with the drop offs and no bushes or trees to catch a person plummeting from their over-reacting horse.

“We're nearly at Ford's Bar Road, I'm sure” I announced to Dana, who didn't particularly care since she showed that, as always, she is a grownup and was already wearing her raincoat. “Nearly there!” In reality, having never ridden the trail in this direction and having not ridden it at all in two years, I had no idea how much further it was to where the trail widens out to a reasonable and safe width.

We did make it to Ford's Bar Road and we were "nearly there" - relatively speaking. Even so, I was absolutely soaked and had to sit very still on my sheepskin saddle cover to make sure that no more water trickled in underneath me. And I did manage to wrestle my raincoat on – with Provo being totally blasé about the whole thing. <sigh>

On the way back, as we plodded back up Driver's Flat Road (which I'd like to point out, having counted the rings on the map, is a 1000' of climbing) I got so cold from sitting in wet clothes, that I ended up tailing Provo the last mile or so. Great Tevis training!

Rides of March 50 Mile Endurance Ride

Things I learnt at this ride:

• Nevada is known for its rocks. Where it doesn't have rocks, it has sand.
• Motorcycles make dips in sandy trails.
• Dippy trails cause you to get very uncomfortable, very quickly, and stay that way throughout the ride.
• Nevada trails feel nothing like American River canyon trails.
• Lemmon Valley is in the high desert and can be very cold at night. Double-blanket the pone and remember to give him warm water to drink or he won't drink at all overnight and he'll be dehydrated next day.
• Lemmon Valley is in the high desert and can be very hot during the day. Bring horse clippers to remove large amounts of fluff, or make like you're from Southern California and persuade your horse to shed out completely prior to the ride.
• In order to follow the trail thoughtfully laid out by Ride Management, it is necessary to watch for rather obvious ribbons and very noticeable lime arrows/blobs on the ground. Failure to adhere to this simple technique will cause you to visit areas not usually used by horses.
• A Rubbermaid tub makes a great crewbox which you can sit on at vet checks. 
• In order to sit on your Rubbermaid tub, you must remember to either move it to where you are standing holding the horse, or move yourself and the horse to where it is. Standing on the opposite side of the vet check area doesn't work.
• Sliced turkey and sliced cheese goes down quick before your gag reflex cuts in, enabling you to actually eat during the ride.
• Ensure now comes with a screw-on lid. You can consume exactly one half a bottle of Ensure before your gag reflex cuts in. Reseal and finish the second half at the second vet check.
• Feeding yourself enables you to finish the ride gimpy, but actually able to function mentally and physically without looking and feeling like a wreck.
• Riding with a GPS that tells you that you've been riding on the "20 mile loop" for 22.5 miles and you still haven't found the vet check does not engender enthusiasm.
• If you finish the ride after sunset, spotting the not-terribly-obvious-because-everyone-else-has -already-ridden-over-them-before-you-got-there lime arrows/blobs can be difficult. For this reason, it is better to attempt to finish before it gets completely dark.
• Finishing dead last may not hold much glory, but finishing at all and then hearing the vet say "Well, he looks quite happy!" at the final vet check is all the glory I need.

The Nightmare of Tevis - April

Training for Tevis and Making a Mess of It—April had its up and downs. Finishing Rides of March 50 and having Provo run circles around me after the finish as I walked him back to camp was definitely one of the ups. Subsequently letting him go out and run for 25 miles in the American River canyon the following weekend - although initially feeling like an up - later turned out to be a major down... as did continuing to try and ride long conditioning rides by doing it again the following weekend, albeit slower.

Sometimes I can't see the wood for the trees. Finishing one 50 does not make my horse Super Horse. It doesn't suddenly mean we can rush about the countryside, abandoning any former caution in our conditioning regime. And remembering that rest and careful ramping back up are as important as "hard work and sweat" when it comes to horses is something that shouldn't be easily forgotten. Unless you're really stupid.

Anyway, hopefully no harm done. Provo did get two proper weeks off and a slight change in diet to plump him up, so with luck he's no worse for wear for the experience. Tomorrow he gets chiro-ed to hopefully iron out any tweaks he's got brewing and next weekend we'll see how we fair at American River 50. If he doesn't stomp on my foot and break my toe, it'll be an improvement on our 1999 effort, as will finishing in less than 10:30 hours.

American River/Tevis Fun Ride 
(side plot to the Nightmare of Tevis) - May

This should probably be entitled "Training for Tevis and Continuing to Make a Mess of It"—April had it's ups and downs, and May didn't turn out much better.

* * * *

My Tevis training came to an abrupt halt two weeks ago when Provo stopped dead a quarter of the way up the side of El Dorado Canyon. Provo never stops dead... it's against his religion, so I knew something wasn't quite right.

American River

To backtrack, we did American River 50 the weekend before and for once I let him go a bit to see how that pace suited him. My aim had been to finish the ride in a ride time of less than 9 hours. Well, we met that goal, and then some – finishing in 8:19 after spending the day with Jazon Wonders' Pan Am/Tevis horse, Milarepa (aka Mikey). Provo was extremely cheerful the whole day and was evidently very enamored with Mikey because every time they were separated, he made a big fuss.

Provo doing his best to trample me or Dr Bob Morgan at Cool - photo Cindy Larkin

At Cool he was about as bad as I've ever seen him– trampling around and trying to stand on people. He went so fast during his trot-out that I had to have him do a big circle at the far end just to get him slowed down enough to trot back in the other direction. Dr Bob Morgan commented that he was going to make a lousy 100 mile horse, seeing as he wasted so much energy. I agreed with him totally - but by then was too far gone and too pathetic to be able to convince Provo behave with any degree of credibility. 

And then, after staggering down to the Coffer Dam (off and leading - being too sore to continue being repeatedly slammed into the pommel of my saddle from Provo jigging to keep up with Mikey), watching with amazement as Provo proceeded to canter up the other side (the same stretch of trail he had hitherto trudged up like death warmed up) and resorting to using the cruddy horse sponge on myself in the ditch at Maidu, I was even further gone by the time we got to the finish. Provo looked great, although he was tired when he finally came down to earth an hour or so later. Sadly Mikey came up lame 40' from the finish line and was pulled. There but for the grace...

We certainly earned our 12th place – even if the main reason we finished that high was that we didn't get lost like the other 80% of the riders.

WST on the way up to Michigan Bluff El Dorado Canyon So, there we were, a week later, stuck in El Dorado canyon. Quite what possessed me to think that riding from Foresthill to Deadwood and back was a suitable "post-50 ride" is anyone's guess. I believe the term is "DIMR" (distance induced mental retardation). I suspect I was lulled into a false sense of security by riding with GCER members, Vicki Testa and Sheila Larsen, and for some reason thought they were going to "go slowly". I'd never ridden with either of them before and what Sheila neglected to mention is that her mare can walk at about 6 mph, so Provo had to trot even when we were "going slowly". <sigh> After I told Vicki and Sheila to go on up to Deadwood without us, and rested by El Dorado creek for half an hour, Provo proceeded to power walk back up to Michigan Bluff - not even stopping when I wanted to take pictures. He finished the ride OK, but again looked a bit "bleah" (medical term) back at the trailer.

WST at Michigan Bluff, above the plunge to El Dorado Creek

Vicki and Truly, Sheila and Splash, and Provo – leading down Volcano Canyon

For the next few days he wasn't eating very well, seemed extremely subdued, and after watching him staggering in the back end when we brought him in the night before, I ended up taking him in to Auburn on Wednesday for Dr Adrienne Brower to look at. At that point, I was convinced he was suffering from some neurological "something" (i.e. was the first horse in Northern CA to contract WNV, I was *sure* of it). Adrienne looked him over and pronounced that he was probably "sore". <weebly smile>

The upshot of it, is he'll probably be fine with some buting and a couple of weeks off. The most worrisome symptom was short-striding on the right rear, but this might be related to having some chiro work done on him a week before AR50 and him being "blocked" on that right rear. We were speculating that during the 50 maybe he was using a bunch of muscles back there that hadn't been properly used in a long time and over-stressed them. <fingers crossed>.

Lesson learned? 16 yr old horses don't bounce back with quite the same speed as younger horses after tougher-than-usual 50 milers. From now on, we will be returning to our former dawdle pace.

Tevis Fun Ride

Anyhoo... Provo didn't get to go to the Tevis Fun Ride and I planned to take "Plan B" instead - Patrick's young pinto, Zini. Zini hadn't really been ridden since last fall when she and Provo got in a kicking match and she lost (sibling rivalry at it's worse), but I figured she'd be OK to mosey down the canyon towards Michigan Bluff even if we didn't get all the way there.

Saturday morning dawned and I went down to feed and found Zini standing on three legs - the fourth with four fresh gouges down the front of the cannon, seemingly caused by her barging into one of the plastic electric tape holders and ripping it off the fence post... quite how she managed to get *four* gouges is anyone's guess, but that's Zini for you.

I was reduced to "Plan C" - Mouse - who hadn't been ridden in 13 months, looks 17 months pregnant, and was 7 weeks into her last trim, so her bare feet looked like badly damaged pie plates. Last time I rode her was April last year when she was 7 months into rehabbing a suspensory injury and we'd just got to the "add 5 mins of trotting a day" part. We were out on our standard loop, and she bucked me off and fell down and split her lip open. Not good memories to encourage me to just "hop back on her". <gulp>

So Mouse got to go to the Fun Ride. I figured she could use the exposure, and, if nothing else, I'd just walk her around the mill site and she could take in the sights.

Even when Mouse is slim 
(which she isn't right now by any stretch of the imagination), 
she always looks like a small fat girl stuffed into a party dress

What actually happened was she was totally bored by the whole proceedings (provided she was in front of a hay bag) - even when a horse went galloping through the area in a panic, trailing a lawn chair. I ended up saddling her up, hand-walking her down Volcano Canyon. 

On the return journey, after I'd staggered a mile and half up the worst of the canyon (the singletrack part with the drop off, which I wasn't willing to attempt on Miss Flighty), when it widened out, I opted to get on and ride the last mile in up Bath Road. Mouse acted like the last 13 months of inactivity had never happened, and was calm and quiet the whole way. Huh.

As my friend put it, she'd forgotten all about the bucking incident minutes after it happened and probably wondered why I still held it against her 13 months later.

So all in all, although it wasn't the Fun Ride I'd anticipated, I was thrilled with Mouse's "mile" of trail riding. Funny how your expectations change depending on which horse you're working with and where they are in their "program."

The whole day was really nice - very laid back. I don't know how many people turned up, but the mill site was packed, so it was good that WSTF got such enthusiastic support. The weather was about perfect - warm, but not ludicrously so. John Maretti was not there and didn't decorate the trail. The barbecue was very good, the raffle obviously fixed (Frank Smith's wife Joanie seemingly won most of the prizes) and my day was ruint when I didn't win the free Tevis Entry, but somehow I managed to enjoy myself anyway <grin>.

Wild West Ride - June

All good things must come to an end and Provo's bid to do Tevis ended in tears at the recent Wild West ride at Skillman over Memorial weekend. The ride was great fun and I hope to go to every year... it just didn't work out too well for Provo. 

It started badly when it began to rain enthusiastically during the Thursday evening ride meeting. The rain continued all through the night, plopping fat drops on the roof of the trailer and I lay in bed rethinking what Cheryl Domnitch had told me the previous afternoon - that if it rained, neither she nor Dionne Wallace were going to ride. 

As it turned out, they did ride, but I should have followed their train of thought (instead of succumbing to herd mentality) and opted to ride Days 2 and 3. I was only intending to ride two of the three days, so it would have made no difference. Had I done this, we might have at least finished one of the days. <sigh>

Despite spending the night packed under two fleece coolers and the waterproof blanket I'd had the presence of mind to bring along, Provo was miserable and shivery in the morning. Someone reassured me that it hadn't rained that hard and what I'd heard was mostly just the rain dripping off the trees. But the trail was slippery and the more we rode, the worse it got along some of the repeated sections. 

Provo in "fire-breathing dragon mode" 
(photo Bill Gore)

If you were riding a sensible, thoughtful, adult horse, the slippery trail would probably pose no great problems... but I was riding Mr Fire Breathing Dragon who I foolishly tried to pace with his mirror image buddy, Bailey (aka Beelzebub). Provo just got progressively stupider and stupider, running through the bit and trying to go forwards however he could, with no thought to safety of life or limb.

(Bailey, I should add, went on to finish all three days in great shape and apparently only started to think about tiring at about 35 miles on the third day... you'll be seeing him at Tevis with rider Dennis Miller).

At one point I broke away and rode with Jennifer Niehaus and her husband for a while. Their horses were trotting along quietly at a nice even pace and Jennifer told me that it usually took 100s and multidays to persuade their horses to do that... I should be so lucky to get Provo as far as 100s and multidays...

He did actually settle at around mile 15, which was gratifying. I dropped back and hooked up with a friend, Dori Johnson, from Sebastopol who was riding her Tevis horse, Handy (Mano a Mano). Dori and Handy are a classic example of "slow and steady gets the job done". Taking the mantra "don't burn your horse out before Robinson Flat" to heart, last year she ended up riding too slow at the start of the ride and found herself dangerously close to cut off - resulting in having to chase time to each check for the rest of the day. But they finished, with 15 minutes to spare. In the future, I am aiming to ride all of my horses with Dori, in the hope that her sanity will rub off on them.

And so we came into lunch, having taken 4 hours to do the first 20 mile loop. Provo looked fine at this point and pulsed down very quickly, and we made our way to the trailer to declothe him and sponge off the worse of the crud off his lower legs. Once dressed in his fleecey cooler, we went back to the vet. He was checked for HR and gut sounds, muscle tone and MM. All were fine. We went to trot out and he suddenly turned into the Hunchback of Notre Dame - lurching along, his back-end locked up from massive cramping.

I've not had this happen before and it totally freaked me out. Provo wasn't just "slightly uncomfortable" - he could hardly walk. Luckily, Ed Klein (who'd done some chiro work on the horse back in April) was parked right across from us, so he did some massage and acupressure on him and managed to get him somewhat more comfortable and then I walked him around camp to try and get him warmed up for the next hour or so, as he continued to shiver miserably for a long time.

So that was that - the end of our ride weekend after a whole 20 miles. As it turned out, Cheryl's Mocha was pulled for lameness at lunch, and Dionne was suffering a flare up of her back problem, so both of them pulled out of camp in the afternoon. My trailer was buried deep in the back and wasn't going anywhere, which was OK - I had plenty of friends riding and could play crew for them.

The following day, I got up, looked at Provo's legs and knew he was done for the year. :(    Because he'd been so shivery the day before, I hadn't wanted to ice his legs after the ride. Saturday morning, his front legs didn't feel great - kind of lumpy and puffy down low, but nothing too bad considering he'd been tied to the trailer all night, but his left rear tendon (the one he bowed two years ago) had an extra lump on the side of it that hadn't been there the day before. Hmmm.

Lisa Jordan (the Reactor Panel saddle lady) came over to say hello. Lisa does some horse massage and went over him briefly and showed me how tight he was in the neck muscles (from pulling through the bit) and generally sore all over. I got more depressed at the state of my horse.

Lisa and I stuffed her car full of crew bags and made our way to Lone Grave vet check, where we spent the day crewing for 8 separate riders for two repetitions. I spent the few quiet minutes between riders getting more depressed and erupting into uncontrolled and unexpected blubbing.

Back in camp, I had vet Dr Rob Lydon check Provo over again and showed him the left rear tendon. Rob was unimpressed, but instead concerned about something he could feel down low on the suspensory on the right front and recommended I got that ultra-sounded. Later that week, I took Provo to Dr Larry Goss in Auburn, who very convincingly showed me that Provo's left front suspensory was the biggest problem - which kind of gives you an idea about what we were up against in terms of "things wrong with the pone" - pick a leg. Provo will be off through 2005... and possibly permanently. We'll just have to see how he heals - but given the number of creaky areas in his body, it's hard to say if he'll become sound enough to manage 50s (right now, I've got my eye on Ride & Tie... he might like that sometime in the future...).

So that was the end of Provo's Tevis bid. It didn't come as any great surprise, as I knew going in that he didn't have the soundest of framework in the first place, but it was worth a shot.

In terms of my ride, however, I may still be in. I have very kindly been offered someone's #2 horse, provided she doesn't need it <fingers crossed>. My initial thought was that I only wanted to do Tevis on my horse, but since my horses seem to break with tedious regularity, that may be a bad choice. 

As it turns out, I did end up riding the Day 3 50 at WW - on a borrowed horse belonging to Peter Rich. The horse was young Fausto who'd done the 30 on Day 1 and his rider didn't feel sufficiently recovered to ride him again, so I was lucky enough to be asked to take him on his first ever 50. 

Despite his inexperience, Fausto did incredibly well - vetting through with practically all As all day, and pulsing down with amazing speed at every check. Would that my horses came even close to his performance. He drank and ate and, except for one large sigh as we came into the vet check ("Will this ever end??"), he was cheerful and fun to ride all day. So if anyone's looking for an outstanding upcoming little horse, you may find him in Fausto.

 Lucy rides Fausto - note the relaxed posture 
and the smile on her face
(photo Bill Gore)

The Nightmare of Tevis - July

At the close of last month's installment, I was commiserating with myself over Provo's suspensory injury, but cheerful that a generous friend was going to lend me her #2 horse, Jane, for Tevis. 

I'm usually pretty fatalistic, but was feeling quite good about Jane, especially after driving down to the delta to take her for a spin. The concept of riding a comfortable horse was almost overwhelming... ...and then a week later I got news from Cold Springs XP ride - Jane had come up lame on the second day and was no longer considered sound enough for Tevis.

Uck.

Ever-undaunted, I went to Cooley Ranch to ride one of Bay Laurel Arabian's Tevis horses - Fiora - because her rider couldn't make it that weekend. Cooley Ranch was quite lovely and definitely a ride to mark on next year's calendar (assuming I have a horse that hasn't injured a suspensory at that time... I've still got one left in the paddock that I haven't had a chance to break yet). 

At 5:30 in the morning, shortly before we set off on the ride, I talked to Peter Rich and told him about Jane's lameness and how I was, once again, sans Tevis horse. Peter asked if I would be interested in taking Fausto (the horse I rode at Wild West) to Tevis for the experience (Fausto's, not mine). Fausto wasn't necessarily expected to finish, but it would still give him a leg-up in future years to have "bin there, done that". 

Since my choices were limited to a) not riding, or b) riding as far as smart riding would get us, I jumped at the chance. After seven years of being on the sidelines I was determined to at least start.

To further acquaint myself with my new partner, I joined Bay Laurel Arabians for their annual pre-rides -  Robinson Flat to Foresthill, and Foresthill to Auburn. These rides were amazing. It's the first time I'd seen most of the trail above El Dorado Canyon, and the whole experience was just spectacular. Getting to ride the trail in big chunks gave me a better idea of what I'm faced with, compared with the shorter pre-rides Provo and I had been doing - especially now that it's starting to heat up.

Having seen him in action on "The Trail", I've now ceased to worry about Fausto's abilities.He's like a wind-up toy: set him going and he continues to trot along cheerfully without any histrionics, tailgating, or the need for continuous rating - or, for that matter, chiropractic adjustment to your shoulders and back at the end of the ride. He goes downhill like a dream and seldom stumbles or spooks (definitely a plus, on those shelf sections, high above the river).

Fausto looking like a quarter horse,
 while I fret as to whether he's considering rolling in the river at Poverty Bar

On the flip side, I have become depressed with the knowledge that I'm more than likely going to be starring in reruns of "You Are the Weakest Link". My attempts at getting acclimatised to the heat seem to be failing dismally, resulting in my getting into the river a few miles before the Quarry on Saturday, to try and drop my body temperature. It was made worse by the loss of my sponge about five miles out of Foresthill. I do carry the sponge for the horse's needs, not mine.. honest (...the horse should get his own sponge...). My knee still hates me and I'm having footwear issues. I'm drinking large quantities of water, but need to figure out some sort of elyte pills, or force myself to eat a Gu every hour, rather than the every 2-3 hours I'm currently managing - water alone just isn't cutting it.

So we shall see. With less than two weeks to go, there's not a lot I can do about any of it, so we'll just have to see what happens on the day.

I wish all Tevis participants - riders, crew, and volunteers a good day, and most of all, a safe day.

Enjoy.

Tevis

Well, I didn't ride Tevis in the end. A week before the event, I took stock of what was going on and decided I wasn't 100% comfortable with how things were - riding a borrowed horse, etc. so I opted not to ride. Fausto was ridden by Madeleine Kirsch and finished in fine shape and I was proud to have had something to do with helping him be ready for the event.

Patriot Day Ride - October 11th
Lucy Chaplin Trumbull

The phone rang the other morning and as a nice surprise it was my friends from Quincy, Dorothy and Dennis Miller, asking if I wanted to ride Dennis' horse, Socks, at the Patriot Ride the following Saturday. They had been helping organize this new ride and Dennis was slated to do PnRs, so wouldn't be riding and they figured Socks could use the outing.

Since two out of three of my horses are lame right now and the only sound one is up-n-coming youngster Zini who isn't fit for public consumption quite yet, I jumped at the chance. Patrick was due to be doing a mammoth mountain bike ride in Downieville the same day, so we were going to be in the area anyway.

I dropped Patrick at the comfy hotel on the river in Downieville on Friday around 6pm and continued up to Greenville. Little did I know it would take me another couple of hours to get there, but kindly Dennis and Dorothy not only brought Socks to the ride for me, they also vetted him in and signed me up, so everything was ready when I rolled in, bleary from two hours of twisty canyon driving.

Ridecamp was at a children's summer camp - Copper Creek Camp - complete with flush toilets and *real* showers. Oooh.

We got up a 5 am because Dorothy and Dennis are organized, unlike me, who tries to get everything done in half an hour. So by 6 am, I was on Socks, finding out that the shortest hole the stirrups could be on was still miles too long. Luckily, this has been happening all my life, so it wasn't hard to make a double wrap of the leathers around the stirrups to make short-leg stirrups. Voila! I still ended up having to shorten the stirrups twice more during the ride.

From the start the trail went straight up the side of the ridge. “Trail” is possibly too generous a description - it was more a case of following the numerous red-white-blue ribbon markers from tree to tree, picking your way up the side of the mountain - tough country, but an excellent way to settle any excitable horses, as they had to concentrate on what they were doing and work at it.

Here we're about four miles into the ride, looking back down into the valley towards ridecamp (in the dark trees at the foot of the ridge). Below us on the yellow dirt road you can see the dots of riders behind us.

The rough stuff dumped us out onto a smooth double track that wound around the mountain and switch-backed a couple of times before coming to a water stop at about 6-8 miles from the start.

The entire town of Greenville, seemingly, had turned out to help. There were volunteers everywhere - many of them not even horse people, let alone endurance folk. There were people to man the cattleguard to prevent us stumbling onto it, people manning the water stops (five on the first 30 mile loop, three on the second 20 mile loop), as well as spotters to make sure we went in the right direction. Not that you could have gotten off trail very easily - there were ribbons every twenty feet, seemingly, and continual lime stripes to discourage us from taking wrong turns.

Walker Lake

Me n' Dorothy, with Socks and Elly, at the second water stop.

Remember how they always say not to try anything new at rides? Well, I was riding a horse I'd never ridden before, riding in Dennis' reactor panel saddle, and wearing in the obligatory red / white / blue clothing, some of which I'd not tried at a ride before.

Problem #1: Dennis and I are not the same shape. Problem  #2: I haven't ridden in a treed saddle in about five years.  Problem #3: For some unknown reason I decided to try and ride with no lower leg protection  (what was I thinking?? Not very much, apparently). <sigh>

By six miles in, things were starting to rub, and by the time we hit the second water stop at about 15 miles (after riding alongside Walker Lake/Mountain Meadows Reservoir for about four miles) my calves were squeaking from rubs from the bottom flap of the saddle and my thighs were starting to whine about the upper saddle flaps. I filched a roll of vet wrap from Dorothy and wrapped the entire roll around my lower right leg to stop anything more rubbing. That helped that a little, but everything else started to rub more instead.

At this point, we started up the toughest part of the ride - a very steep, rough footing climb that had to detour around some downed trees. We started up on horseback, but quickly ended up getting off and tailing up to the top. Thank goodness DnD had had the forethought to teach their pones to tail, otherwise we would never have made it. Socks' back-end was quivering from the exertion when we finally crested out at the top, to a lovely view of the granite mountainside above Deerheart Lake (another water stop). 

We clambered around in the boulders for a while, before scrambling back on the horses and picking our way along the trail. This part of the ride was quite wild. The trail was singletrack, but a multitude of yet more downed trees, branches, rocks, and other obstacles meant we had to pick our way along very carefully. Some of the smaller trees made for fun jumping practice, and at one point we were having so much fun we completely lost the trail and ended up in a boulder field (vet Rob Lydon had told Dorothy that doing rides just wasn't worth it if you weren't having fun. We were *definitely* having fun).

Looking back at rider Ray and his horse, Boomer, high above Walker Lake.

From here it got even more fun. 

Trail? What trail?

But despite some hairy spots, the trail was loads of fun and a true testament to just how sure-footed horses can be.

We finally rejoined the dirt road and we able to get in some speedier trotting, after punily scrabbling along at 0.5 mph for the last four miles or so. At this point we were way in the back and needed to make some time.

At the end of the 30 mile loop back in camp, Socks' back was a little sore. He'd had some ongoing back issues which seemed to be being resolved with the help of specific exercises and the reactor panel saddle. I wondered if he was getting sore from our mutual unaccustomedness to each other (me riding him/him carrying me), or from me riding strangely to try and relieve my tenderness. At lunch, I padded the seat with sheepskin and wrapped my legs in shipping boots and took another handful of painkillers (just kidding - I think I took four all day) and felt that I would be riding more balanced, so hopefully would stop any further soreness developing in him (*I* was still sore, but I wasn't doing the carrying). 

Loop 2 started with some fun climbing twisty singletrack, but it was obvious that Socks wasn't feeling as energetic as he had been in the morning. Despite this, when things levelled out on yet more dirt road, we were able to make up some time fairly comfortably. There was a stretch of two-way traffic at one point, and I saw Cindy Larkin going the other way, probably about two hours ahead of us. 

Sadly, as it turns out, when we got into the vet check, Socks had an elevated pulse (despite being told he was at 40 by the PnR person - such a reportedly low pulse alone should have raised alarm bells in my head) and was very uncomfortable, so we pulled him. 

In retrospect, I felt pretty bad about it, realising I should have pulled him at the end of Loop 1 - but I was so determined not to quit because of my own discomfort, that I forgot to realise that I should probably quit for the horse's discomfort. Dope.

Luckily, the vet at this check (Dr Heidi) was the vet who had been working with Socks this year, so she immediately started some acupuncture to relieve some of his discomfort - so there he was standing in the check like a pin-cushion, screaming his fool head off after Dorothy and Elly, who carried on to the finish without us - Elly without a backward glance to her best buddy as they left the check. 

Back at camp, after supper, Socks' back was already a lot better, so investigation into what's going on with him will have to continue. 

Since I managed to miss the awards, I have no idea who won the ride, but have a suspicion that Michael Raposelli may have won best condition?

After eating, I made the two hour night drive back to Downieville to meet up with Patrick and hear about his ride, pulling in outside the hotel at 11 pm, on the edge of wooziness (I don't recommend doing this drive after ten hours of riding).

As it turns out, Patrick not only went further than me (41+ miles); he also got there quicker (it took Socks and I 10 hours to go 40 miles;  Patrick did 41 in slightly more than 7); he was in better shape (I was black and blue from my saddle rubs and am still muscle sore a week later); and he also climbed 7000' in the process. Pah. That just proves that endurance riding is harder than mountain biking... <nonchalant>.

I was very proud of him.

Many thanks to Dorothy and Dennis for a fun day's riding that I would have otherwise missed. The Patriot Day ride was a fun one and worth putting on the calendar.