Gold Country 30

26 September 1998

Me being me, and being filled with the wonderousness of it all, this write-up got ludicrously long. If you're a seasoned endurance rider, you'll probably be bored to tears. If you're a newbie, you'll probably also be bored to tears... Oh well. Read and enjoy - it's raining here anyway.

No-one told me that, mostly, what you do before and after a ride is feed the horse. All day and all night, that's all we seemed to do. Horse thought it was wonderful -  instant yummies every time he looked a bit bored. Much more gooder than when he's at home and just gets pellets and that cruddy, boring ol' grass hay...

Yesterday we did the Gold Country 30. It was my first ever ride and Provo's 3rd (he'd already done a 25 and a 50 a couple of years back with his previous owner) and it went beautifully.

I'd formulated this really good plan about camping well away from the start line and then ambling up to it several minutes after everyone else had left, so that Provo wouldn't get all excited and competitive from seeing the other horses milling about. This plan failed miserably when I arrived late (predictably) and there weren't any spaces left in the camp - except one right by the start line at the entrance of the camp. Sigh.

As it turned out, it didn't matter. He stood on his picket line, watching interestedly as all the 50s came through and started. Patrick took him to walk around about 15 minutes before we were due to start at 7:30 (half an hour after the 50s) and he was most attentive. Patrick doesn't walk too fast with his ex-broken leg, so it's important that Provo walks slowly and doesn't trample him. And he didn't - he walked around nice and slow and paid attention. Maybe he's like me - the more hyped he gets, the more he shuts down... I couldn't even concentrate on a six item shopping list the morning before the ride.

But I was endlessly proud of him - this was a horse who had few manners, no brakes, and was incapable of going along without having his head up in the sky and his back hollowed. He wouldn't stand still to be mounted. He wouldn't stand still to be tacked up. etc.. you get the picture.

We set off about five minutes after the pack, mostly just because we were fiddling around and, despite being 20 foot from the start line, just didn't quite get around to starting until then.

I was riding with Ann Blankenship, who's been chaperoning me since mid-July. Many thanks to her for stupidly suggesting to me at some point “hey, you could do Gold Country” and then agreeing to help me condition for it (next time she'll keep quiet).

Eternal thanks also goes to Patrick for getting up at 5am to feed the pony yet more beetpulp, and for talking me into wearing  his horrid yellow rain slicker thing. I hate those coats - all crunchy and rustly - and I was doing my best to think of excuses as to why I shouldn't wear it. Eventually, I ran out of excuses and had to go and put it on. Without it, I would have been absolutely SOAKED (instead of very damp) and miserable. It rained for five and half of the six hour ride. Sigh.

But it was wonderful. The first part of the trail is narrow single track through some bushes. Slight problem when the lady in front of us's horse wouldn't go, then Amtal, Ann's horse, decided he didn't fancy it either, so Provo had to be brave trail blazer. He managed a whole 20 foot at a casual walk (much to my excitement - “hey, this is going to be a doddle, if he's like this for the rest of the ride”), and then went into his normal “I can prance and jig, yes I can!” mode. So we carried on a a nice jig (not) until the road crossing (at which point the lady who'd started with us had had enough and passed and left) and then let them go.

At this point I briefly saw Kimberley Price - or more to the point, saw the back end of Kimberley and Mystery as they shot by. I was too busy concentrating on making sure Provo's back end wasn't pointing at them as they came past, to realise who it was until she'd gone. (Patrick met them in camp and I was trying to shuffle over to say hello, but was on one leg trying to adjust a shipping boot, and by the time I was on two legs, she'd gone).

Anyway, off we went. No one in sight and luckily Amtal and Provo seemed to have forgotten about the other horses who'd just come past, so we actually progressed forwards in a sensible manner for about 8 miles. Provo stopped jigging and started trotting like horses are meant to. I got to knot the reins and only needed minimal checking when the rivalry between him and Amtal got too much for them to bear (you can almost hear them muttering under their breath “I can go faster than him... just watch me... I can go faster...”).

Fire road turned into single track. Single track turned into overgrown single track (keep your head down by the mane and hope for the best). And the rain continued to come down. It wasn't too cold though, so it kept us nice and cool.

At about ten miles, a junior rider on a very sweet bay overtook us, and Provo spent the next 3 miles trying to catch her.

“...but, but, Mum, she came past us!”

“I know dear, it doesn't matter”

“...but, Muuuu-uuum, she's getting awaaaaay”

“I know sweetie, but it isn't important”

“...but Mum (you idiot), horses overtaking isn't allowed... lets gallop!!!”

“er, no Provo, no... er, trot, er TROT, TRROOOOOOOTTTTT!!”)

Finally got him under control again - he has this great trick of waiting until we're on a downhill lumpy section and I'm completely off balance, flipping his head and taking off. I'm getting better at managing this, slowly.

At 13 miles, there was a dismount and trot-by check. Well, that was the idea, anyway. Trouble was, after 13 miles, my knees weren't really up to shuffling, let alone running next to a trotting horse, so I stalled as long as I could, by which time Ann had trotted Amtal down, and Provo was looking most miffed that they were leaving without us. So off we trotted - Provo flying along and me kind of  waddling behind him. He trotted out fine.

This was a great relief, because at the vet-in the previous afternoon, the vet had expressed some concern over his left front suspensory. It was tender, mostly because Provo'd been interfering during the previous weekend's ride (as soon as I realised what was going on, we'd started riding in boots and that solved that problem). It was also tender because he'd tripped up on his way into the vet check and knocked one spot once again, so it was bleeding (this horse is not the most graceful when it comes to moving). Vet had told me to keep a very careful eye on him and make sure that he wasn't off at all.

We stood in the rain for about 15 minutes trying to persuade the horses to drink, but all Provo wanted to do was tuck into the alfalfa hay (“Mmmmm, don't get this at home, yum...”). At least it was soggy. Then we scrambled back on again - onto soggy sheepskin saddle cover. Euuuw.

Off for another ten miles. This whole trail was a bit blurry. I know we got bunched up at one point with some other people (including the junior on the bay, much to Provo's smug satisfaction) and managed to get ahead of everyone until we came to an unmarked intersection. This was the only ambiguous spot on the whole trail - the rest was beautifully marked - and had to try the left hand trail for markers before turning back and taking the right hand one. In the process, we all got bunched up again and a few riders came past us.

At one point we came across a woman coming back in the opposite direction. She was most unhappy at a hill coming up and said she didn't want to subject her horse to that.

It was interesting, to say the least. They called it Snowy River. Kind of vertical. Very long. And had very dodgy footing on it - a choice of pointy, but relatively solid shale, or loose rocks. Not a hill you would consider going up without a breast collar.

Going up steep hills is Provo's specialty though, and off we went. The trick is persuading him to stop half way up, though, to rest, because he always thinks he should do the whole hill in one go. We managed to stop a couple of times (not many places to stop safely) for them to puff and Provo's whole body was shaking with the effort. But he's a brave, plucky horse and we got up fine.

The vet check was at the top of this hill, and I was ecstatic when Provo's pulse was down to 60 within about four minutes of coming in. All he wanted to do was scarf down the goodies they had at the check - alfalfa, bran mash, carrots, apples, yum stuff. They also had tons of horse blankets which was great, because without them, we would have been in trouble - it was still raining and cool. They had people to hold the horses. Their people-snack lady actively chased me around and tried to force me to eat her goodies (me, who thought I was doing well because I'd eaten a whole banana and a baby carrot that morning)(I was supposed to be giving the carrot to Provo, but he started trotting without my permission... too bad... his loss, my gain... :). A most excellent vet check. Especially when Provo got A, A, A, A, A for everything and P&R-ed at 40/12.

We stayed quite a while (after playing duelling pulses between Amtal and Provo to see who would come down faster - Amtal has more bulk at 16 hh, but he also has a better base on him, having done top ten 50s. Cindy Larkin was doing courtesy P&Rs, so she humoured us), letting the horses munch and generally whiling away the time. We weren't in any hurry and Provo was doing his starving ethiopian impersonation.

Eventually we trudged out, leading the ponies, got on for half a mile or so, before coming up against a section we had been warned out. The trail we were on is used by motorcycles, so is mostly set up for them. This particular section was quite steep and sandy, so there were a load of cinder blocks set on end into the ground. Great for m/cs, but not so good for horses. So we hopped off and walked that section. Once again, I was proud of Provo. He listened to me and avoided standing on me and went slowly down the steep hill.

That is, until 2nd place 50 miler, Vicki Testa, came up behind us, at which point his competitive spirit came over again and he thought we better hurry up. Managed to get him off the trail to let Vicki past, and got down the hill without being trampled to death.

This last section I think was the prettiest of the whole ride. Leafy canyon with the trail winding switchbacks down to several little creek crossings. Then back up a gradual climb to the final vet check at 28 miles.

This was the stupid one. Provo looked full of beans. He was still quite capable of jigging. Still racing with Amtal (“yes I can, yes I can, yes...”) and still bounding up the hills. The people at the vet check laughed at him because he didn't look like he'd done anything. He got yet more As on his card. It was cool (even though the sun came out!), so no grimy sweat, so his pearly white coat shone. How embarrassing.

I, on the other hand, was a little wobbly around the edges, but still functional, which was the whole idea.

We vetted through fine (42/16)(had to persuade Provo not to stop to eat the nice alfalfa someone had kindly put at the far end of our trot out). Had to adjust one of his boots that had slipped down and filled with small rocks and cause yet more small rubs. Sigh. Many thanks to Karen Chaton for telling me to take along desitin - it now lives in my saddle bag.

And then we trotted the last 2 miles. Patrick said as we came in, the people around the finish line said that we must be 50 milers because we were moving too fast to be 30 milers. A boy at the finish line asked if Provo was a stallion (“No, but he'd like to think he was”).

Wonderful.

The only bad bit came at the end. The sun was out, so dumbo here decided to sponge some of the grime off Provo - yup, around his loin and butt. Big mistake (and one that won't be repeated). Instantly the sun went in and despite blanketing him, he started to get cold. We fed him yet more beet pulp and took him to the vet check. Unfortunately, there was only one vet on hand and he was vetting the top ten 50 milers as they came in.

We ended up waiting for over an hour in the end, by which time it began to pour with rain. The line grew longer and longer, with soggy, cold, miserable looking horses. Provo, already cold, shivered harder and harder. We ran about, grabbing what we could to get him covered and warm. By the time two new vets arrived from other checks, it was hailing.

But they were great, and started checking horses at about 50 mph and cleared people as quickly as they could, which was wonderful.

The poor junior (Carolyn Finston, I read in the results) with the sweet bay was really worried - she wasn't sure her horse would pass because she was shivering so badly - despite two blankets, one of which was pulled up over the horse's eyes. But I'm sure the vets understood the situation.

So much for the idea of sitting in the sun, passing the time of day after the ride.

Even once we'd vetted through, we had to faff around. We stashed Provo in Ann's trailer temporarily to get him out of the rain. Our trailer wasn't hooked up (not enough space to park it where it was, with the truck attached), so we had to hook that up and move it to a new location. Much more faffing around, before we could get him out of their trailer (so they could go home - half an hour away) and into ours. He was still shivering, so we added some beach towels and bed blankets to his blanket and left him with a ton of hay and yet more beet pulp.

Eventually, we managed to stagger down to the supper put on by the ride (really yummy!).

On the whole, the initial rain had helped the trail dust-wise. In some places it made for very nice footing. In a couple of places it was a little slippy.

Ride awards were really nice water bottle holders and bottles. It was even “our” colour - green (goody, goody, this means I can carry yet more water on the trail).

As reputed, the Gold Country Endurance Ride club people were wonderful and cheery.

As reputed, the ride was tough up and down, with lots of interesting drop offs (especially interesting when, at one point, Amtal stumbled and his back legs went over the edge. Gulp).

And Provo performed far above my expectations. I'd wanted to complete the ride without feeling like I'd died and without the pony looking stressed. Having him come in looking like he'd not done anything at all wasn't exactly it, but much, much better. And I didn't feel dead either - I was kind of on autopilot though (feed horse, take off tack, feed horse, get horse warm, feed horse, inspect horse, feed horse...).

Hmmm. So what to do next? Do I do more 25s, but do them without a Provo-chaperone, to see how we deal with it on our own, or try for a 50 and hope we find similarly paced people along the trail to hook up with now and again? I've got all winter to mull it over. Not going to any winter rides. Oh no. I was the one who said I'd never do a rainy ride. What would be the fun in that?

I'm off to unload the fifteen tons of “wet stuff” from the front of the trailer. Euuww.

27.9.98