While packing and preparing to leave for the ride, I had removed and hosed down the girth for Hoss's saddle. As soon as I did this, I discovered large chunks of the wool just coming right off the sheepskin cover. Well, that didn't last long! Fortunately I had already decided to get a new girth and ordered it. It wasn't going to arrive in time for the ride, but at least this would be the last ride for the falling apart, galling POS I was using. What I decided to get was an Easy Girth by Running Bear. Measuring and deciding on a length took some doing, but I finally settled on a 24" girth.
The other problem I'd had, which really didn't seem to be a problem when I first discovered it, was my left stirrup seemed to want to let go. On our last ride, on our way out, I thought, boy, I'm really out of balance. My left leg is really feeling long! Then I gradually noticed it was getting longer. Didn't take me long to realize something was wrong with my stirrup. I got Hoss stopped and fixed the stirrup. It appeared the buckle didn't want to stay in place. Not having a great deal of time to fiddle with it, I had gotten it back together, mounted back up, and continued our ride. It didn't give me any other more trouble, so I thought nothing of it.
To further complicate matters, I had purchased a new pair of riding boots. I bought the exact same brand and style I've used for years. I've always been able to simply put them on and walk away. No break-in period. I put them on for my morning walk the next morning and headed out, fully confident I'd have no problems. Unfortunately I discovered to my dismay and woe, something about the way the boots are constructed has changed. By the time I'd walked a quarter of our daily distance, I was noticing I was developing a blister on my right heel. I stopped several times to make adjustments to little effect. When we'd turned around to come home, the blister was very painful but still tolerable enough to walk on. Barely. I then started to notice a blister forming on my left heel. By the time we turned up the final hill for the last eighth mile or so, I was nearly crippled. I briefly considered hopping on Hoss bareback with nothing but the halter. I didn't do it. I had no helmet, have never ridden Hoss bareback, and he's a different horse to ride than he is to lead. So I hobbled my way home. Once I had Hoss In the pasture and fed, I hobbled into the house to remove my boots. I found a truly huge, bloody blister on my right heel, and the beginnings of one on my left heel. To make matters worse, probably because I'd been walking oddly, I had sores rubbed into the outside of my right foot as well. The only pair of shoes I could wear: a pair of leather moccasins I inherited many years ago from my father.
I had been calling my doctor's office trying to get refills on my drugs to get me through the ride for three days. By the time Friday morning rolled around, I had just enough meds to maybe get me through the ride, but it meant not taking any for the drive. This meant trial by fire for my husband. He had never driven the truck and trailer except to move it about fifty yards, and then he got it stuck enough we had to call in friends with a 4x4 truck to get it out. So you can imagine he was more than a little nervous about driving the rig. But, I couldn't possibly drive the nearly 400 miles myself and get on my horse the next morning. So once we reached the highway, I turned over driving duties to a very nervous husband.
I wasn't able to take my drugs as prescribed, to be sure I'd have enough to get through the next day's ride, so I sat in the passenger seat, unable to find a truly comfortable position. It wasn't long before I decided I'd be more comfortable sprawled out in the back seat, where we had put the memory foam pad and a sleeping bag just for this purpose. It was an improvement, but it certainly did not cause the discomfort to vanish.
Since my hip injury I have found myself sleepy pretty much all the time. I could toddle off to bed by 6pm and be sound asleep until the sun came up. So it was really not surprise when I drifted off to sleep in the back seat of the truck. My husband had the TomTom GPS to go by, so I wasn't really worried about him getting lost!
We were in Scottsdale when my doctor's office finally deigned to call me. They wanted to know where I wanted my prescription called in. Well, by this time, we were a little lost in Scottsdale. The TomTom had not been updated recently enough to get us all the way to the ride site, so we had started to rely on my husband's iPhone and Google Maps. But we had passed a CVS pharmacy. Obviously I couldn't keep the doctor's office on the phone long enough to drive back to the pharmacy so we could get the number, so I had them call the prescription in to my regular pharmacy, then had the CVS we'd passed call and transfer it to them.
It would take some time for the prescriptions to be ready, and it was getting late, so we decided to get Hoss the rest of the way to the ride site. We needed as much daylight as possible to set up camp and get Hoss checked in. We had friends planning to join us at ride camp for dinner, so they agreed to stop and pick up my prescriptions on the way.
I was hobbling around base camp in my moccasins, with little protection from the rocks and other hazards, with no drugs on board, trying to get checked in and my horse vetted. Camp was quite crowed, and it took us a long time to find a spot, and it was rather farther from ride management than I would have preferred.
I got my packet and led Hoss on up to vet in. I didn't put his boots on, because I didn't want to have to take them back off again since I don't like him to wear them overnight unless he has to. When the vet told the scribe his heart rate, she said if there was a prize for the lowest entering heart rate, Hoss would have won it. He was at 32 beats per minute!
I had trotted Hoss out before loading him up, just to be sure that funky left hind swelling wasn't causing him any pain. He trotted clean and sound. So I expected to problems when I trotted him for the vet. Of course, this turned out to be one of those times he's decided trotting out is stupid and he won't do it. It took a little threatening on my part, but he finally started trotting. And of course he took two steps, stepped on a rock with his left front, and was instantly lame!
The vet wanted to check the foot to see what he could see, but of course I know my horse's feet. I picked up the foot and immediately spotted the damage where he'd stepped on the rock. I even found the nasty sharp rock he'd stomped. The vet let me take Hoss back to the trailer and put his boots on. We returned booted up. Hoss trotted out somewhat better, but still grade 2 lame. They decided to give me until morning to have him checked again, but I felt the condescension. They didn't think he'd be sound in the morning. My opinion was, a lame horse doesn't have a 32 heart rate, so it was the rock, and he'd be fine by morning.
Just to be on the safe side, I found one of the vendors (Horses Dacor) and picked up a pair of comfort pads to put in his front boots. They also carry Smarty Pants, underwear meant for high activity. I bought a pair of those, because I already knew from Moab I wouldn't be able to wear any of my usual underwear without serious consequences.
Once back at the trailer, I put the comfort pads in Hoss's size 2 Easyboot Edges and put them on him. I figured if he had the boots and nice cushy pads on overnight it would improve his odds of being sound by morning.
In the morning, I saddled up against the possibility we'd be hitting the trail. Leaving the boots with the pads on paid off. Hoss trotted out sound. I suspect he would've been sound had I left him barefoot all night, but there was no purpose in taking the chance. I mounted up and we left, the last 75 milers to hit the trail.
I was a little nervous about riding alone. Hoss has always done best with "company" on the trail. We did, however, rather quickly catch up with a rider on a pretty red roan Mustang. The horse was putting up quite a fuss. The rider told me her horse doesn't do well alone, and can be quite a handful when ridden alone. Indeed, she half-reared as Hoss and I caught up. The rider asked if they could fall in behind us, and we were on our way.
It was still pretty dark, though the sky was lightening. We had a hard time finding the trail signs, but finally found them and made our way up the trail.
At some point, the other rider noted one of Hoss's hoof boots was crooked. Admittedly I failed to check them well in the morning, so it was truly my fault. I got off and made the best fix of it I could. The other things I had forgotten were my waist pouch with my meds and the tool for adjusting Hoss's hoof boots, and my cell phone. I wasn't terribly worried about being swarmed by bees or coming across someone cooking shrimp, so the lack of my drugs was not high on my worry list. But not having the tool, well, that was a problem.
I straightened out the hoof boot as best I could and tightened the gaiter in an effort to keep the boot on straight. Once I was done with that, we headed back down the trail – and my stirrup started falling off again. So I had to get off and fix that. I really didn't have the time to take a close look, but it was clear something was very wrong with the buckle system on that stirrup.
A few more miles down the trail, and Hoss's boot was twisted again. This happened a few times, and I finally decided to leave it the heck alone. So long as it stayed on, we were good. The other rider I was with fortunately had in her possession a multi-tool, so I was able to tighten the worm clamps on the boots and left it at that.
When I walked back to Hoss, who has stood quietly and patiently on his own, I noticed he had cholla stuck in his pasterns and legs. He didn't even care as I pulled them out. I wouldn't even have known until we got back to camp for the first vet check if I hadn't gotten off.
As I didn't have my phone with me, my crew, husband Mike, friends Dena and Cherilyn, were concerned for Hoss and me safety. They were able to get updates as to when I passed check points, but they had expected to see me sooner.
Alfalfa hay was brought from the trailer to the pulse in area so Hoss got eat. He wants to eat the instant he comes into a vet check, and has been known not to have his heart rate come down until I've let him eat whatever he wants. I was pleasantly surprised, however, that he ate a little, drank quite well, and his heart rate dropped below criteria (60) within three minutes of coming in to the vet check.
Hoss passed the vet check easily, although he got some scores lower than I'd like to see so early in a ride. I think the vet on this ride was a bit stricter than I'm used to seeing, and of course he'd never seen Hoss before other than to know the prior night he'd been lame. The only problem I had with Hoss was getting him to trot out. It's like he runs hot or cold. Some rides he's good about it, others, he just says "screw you!" I don't think the combination of a sprained hip and blisters on my heels helped at all. But I could've strangled this vet. He wanted us to trot away, trot back and by, and trot back to him. Hoss and I are used to vets who'll watch three sound steps and say, okay, you're good.
We got Hoss back to the trailer and gave him bran mash with electrolytes (so I didn't have to use up another tube, and he didn't have to have it shoved down him), water and alfalfa hay. While he was eating, I went to work on his boots. I realized the size 2 Edges are just bit too big, and what had happened was the comfort pads had squished into the excess space at his toe. Since he's toed in to begin with, it resulted in the pads pushing the boots more to the inside. They had stayed on just fine, but they were full of dirt and little rocks. Since the size 1 Edges haven't been repaired since Moab, I decided to put his Gloves on for the rest of the ride. The Renegades on his hinds caused no trouble. They stayed put.
The next thing to work on was the stirrup issue. I pulled the stirrup hobble and got a closer look at the buckle. It turned out the piece that slides down over the part that sticks through the holes had come apart. It was now too loose to hold the stirrup fender. After some brain-storming, Cherilyn came up with the idea to cannibalize a piece of stiff wire from a bungee cord, straighten it out, and use it to hold the buckle together. It wasn't long enough to reach all the way around the buckle, so Cherilyn found some sport tape and taped that sucker on. Worked perfectly. It's held up to this point.
Mike cooked me up some soup and I took a few minutes to sit and eat it once we'd gotten Hoss's tack issues worked out. I sat in my nice comfy zero-gravity chair for perhaps ten minutes before it was time to hit the trail again. This time I remembered my waist pack and my cell phone.
Cherilyn was going to have to leave before we got back for our second vet check, as she'd ridden her motorcycle and would be risking getting quite cold on her way home. So we said our goodbyes before I left. At this point we had already decided we'd have brunch with Dena and Cherilyn before we headed home on Sunday.
On my way to the trail, I saw the rider and horse we'd been with, and she called out, "good luck," to us. Turned out she'd been pulled. Her horse was stiff behind. We were on our own.
We briefly encountered other horses on the trail, but Hoss showed no interest in joining up with them. He was content with the pace we were setting, and his heart rate looked good, running between 110 and 120. Much of the trail was highly trottable, with the exception of a deep, sandy wash, which we mostly walked.
Mike and Dena had run into town for food for our dinner. He cooked up a very nice beef stew. I got Hoss fed, another electrolyte bran mash in front of him, and sat down to eat my dinner. Unfortunately, Mike had accidentally added too much pepper, and I wasn't able to eat much. Of course, on an endurance ride, I don't eat a great deal anyway. I had a pudding and a granola bar.
It seemed like I'd only been sitting down for five minutes when it was time to hit the trail again. As it was getting dark, I switched into my jeans riding tights and a long sleeve shirt to help protect my arms and legs in the dark. I got my headlamp and made sure I had a spare set of batteries for it. I was also able to take my own Leatherman multitool along. Cherilyn gave me a pouch for it that had come with hers, which she hated. I hated mine, because I had to take my belt off to take the Leatherman off. It was like the perfect trade.
We made our way down the trail, and it was quite dark. There were few glo-sticks. We were the last ones on the trail, the rest of the 75s having finished ahead of us. There was a pair of 50s finishing their ride, but they were far ahead of us. We were hitting the trail at 5:30pm, and it was getting dark rapidly. The 50s had until 6:30pm to finish, so they were probably two or three hours ahead of us.
Hoss was less confident about his speed in the dark. We were keeping a pace more between 5 and 6 mph. I have a headlamp with three colors of light: white, red, and green. I tried the green, which helped me see the plant life, but I couldn't tell trail from not trail. Hoss, however, showed quite a bit of confidence and was able to stay on the trail.
We crossed the road and continued on familiar trail. Hoss was moving along confidently enough, if a little slower than during the daylight hours. I heard a voice calling to me from up ahead, but could see no one. I finally switched to the white light, and there, slightly off to the side but in plain view, was a rider on a very light grey horse. Wow. I really am night blind. I wouldn't have known they were there until I'd run into them. Of course, I should hope Hoss wouldn't have run into them. The rider had been putting out the glo-sticks. She told me there weren't many, but she felt it should be okay. There was something about having experimented with leaving the glo-sticks out all day, and it hadn't worked. I'm not sure what the real story is there, by that time I was a bit fuzzy in the head.
I discovered Hoss was much more confident when I had the white light on, so I left it on and tried to keep it aimed in front of Hoss's face. He picked out the trail with unerring accuracy. We made it to the check point, much to the delight of those manning it. I was the very last rider on trail, and they were just waiting for me to get there so they could leave.
After leaving the check point, we hit a deep sandy wash, and Hoss rather hit the doldrums. I was quite pleased it took him to this point to get truly tired/disheartened. The wash was a good place to walk, so I allowed him to walk through the entirety of the wash. Walking for a while when he's feeling like that will perk him back up and he'll get moving again.
We came to the right turn out of the wash, and Hoss happily picked up the pace again. There really were very few glo-sticks. We came to a trail sign that was bent. I glanced at it, but was unable to read it in the dark. Hoss turned left confidently enough, and I trusted him. But it wasn't very long until it became clear we had made a wrong turn. Hoss was still confident, but I had lost confidence in him. One mistake, and now I thought he was an idiot.
We wandered about in the desert. I allowed Hoss to continue, in hopes he'd find his way back to the trail, but I was increasingly feeling he only thought he knew where he was going.
And then we came to somebody's back gate. Now I knew we were off trail! Hoss wanted to continue along the fence line, but I forced him to turn around and attempted to find our way back to where we had lost the trail. My GPS was of little use. I couldn't see the little breadcrumb trail, and I couldn't tell the difference between where I should be and the trail we had used earlier. I had to keep stopping Hoss to make sure we didn't walk through any cholla – which he doesn't seem to care about, but I'd rather not have any in me.
We finally made it back to a glo-stick, and I gratefully chose a direction. Hoss made no objection, so off we went.
And found ourselves back at the wash. We'd gone the wrong way. I turned Hoss about, and encouraged him to pick it up. I really started pushing him, knowing we had already lost close to thirty minutes wandering around in the desert. Now we had to get back quick in order to be back in time.
As we rode along, I realized if I had let Hoss make the decision while we were lost off trail, he would've gotten us back on track. Instead I had made him wander through the desert in the dark. Up to the point he had made the wrong turn, he had given me no reason to mistrust his choices. One mistake and I was ready to think him incompetent and take over. And look how that turned out.
Mike called me as we were going along to ask where we were. I didn't know at that point, but called him back minutes later after passing a trail sign. We were still pretty far out and needed to hot along to have any hope of finishing on time.
We finally made it to the road crossing with about fifteen minutes to go. I felt pretty good about our chances of coming in under the wire, but knew we stood a good chance of being overtime. I thought we'd be able to find the turnoff to the wash in to the back side of camp, but somehow we missed there. There wasn't a single glo-stick in sight.
By this time we were officially over time. I realized we had managed to miss the turn, and tried to turn Hoss back to find it. He absolutely refused to go back the other way. I think he might have just lain down to express his opinion. He knew how to get back the way we were going, and that was that. Since we were already overtime, I decided not to fight him on it.
We came in through the out trail. Everyone was looking for us across the vet check area from there. I called Mike and let him know we were there, and everyone came up.
I was tired and annoyed and, at the time, thought I was angry with Hoss. I realized later I was angry with myself. I should've trusted my horse more. Hoss passed the final vet check, but as we were over time, we did not get credit for the miles.
We now know we can do 75 miles. In fact, we made up half the time we had lost wandering in the desert. It's entirely possible if we hadn't missed that last turn, we would have squeaked in under the cut-off. The way we went was quite a bit longer.
I got Hoss taken care of, wrapping his hind legs with clay to help reduce the swelling he might develop since the incident at Moab. By the time I was done with him, I was so exhausted I was shivering. No amount of blankets and jackets could make me feel warm. So, once Hoss was well cared for with enough hay to see him through to morning, I crawled into my sleeping bag and was immediately asleep.
We got a late start toward home in the morning, trying to give me as long as possible to sleep. We stopped and had brunch with Dena and Cherilyn. Hoss got to hang out in their back yard in a rather suburban section of Phoenix while we went to eat.
Mike started out driving on the way home, as I was just too tired to be safe to drive. When we got to Yuma, we stopped briefly so I could give Hoss water and we could use restrooms. Mike wanted a chance to rest, and I was feeling pretty good, so I let him crawl into the back seat to sleep and took over driving duties for a time.
We pulled out of the mall we'd parked in, and someone pulled up alongside me, honking urgently. She told me the trailer gate was open. I'd forgotten to secure it after giving Hoss water! I came to a stop and leapt out of the truck. Hoss, thinking since I wasn't right there he should get out of the trailer, stepped out right into the middle of the road. He looked about like, "Now, why would she want me to get out here?!" I got hold of him and asked Mike to bring his halter out of the truck. Once I put the rope around his neck, Hoss got back in the trailer and I made sure that gate was secure before we hit the road again!
I only lasted about an hour. I pulled a rest stop to try to catch some sleep in the front seat while Mike slept in the back. Mike woke up, and said he felt he could continue on and let me lay back down in the back seat.
I was completely out until Mike woke me to drive the last little bit. The last 2.5 miles along the dirt road home. I got Hoss settled in the pasture while Mike got the perishables out of the truck. I think we were in bed around 1am.
It was a long ride, and I'm disappointed we didn't get our miles. I have to say our ride season kinda sucked. Hopefully the next one will be an improvement.
*writer's note: I took pics whenever something struck me as pretty. They are arranged more or less according to the time and during the loops they were taken. Because it was dark for Loop 3, obviously I have no pics of that part of the ride.
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