O What a Lovely Day!

How could I possibly let it go without getting in a ride? Okay, so I had accepted I wouldn't be able to ride for another two weeks. That was before my daughter sprained her ankle, rendering her unable to ride for at least ten days. It was a calculated risk, but it was time to take it. I've been finding myself unwilling to bother to get out of bed at a reasonable hour in the morning. With little else to do with my day, I was napping an inordinate amount. I needed a change. I needed to ride.

I changed into a pair of riding tights, and Team Fluffy lost their collective minds. They just jumped all over the place and couldn't wait. Especially after they saw me pick up my purse and drinking water. Then they knew we were going in the truck to get some real trail time in. I walked out to the truck, eagerly led by three dogs. Usually I'll get Hoss loaded before I put the dogs in the truck. Today that really wasn't going to happen. They were so excited to get going I had to let them get in before I could hook up the trailer.

Once I got the dogs loaded, I turned the truck around and hooked it up to the trailer. I looked over to the pasture, and there was Hoss, ears pitched forward, nearly as eager to go as the dogs. I'm pretty sure if I'd just opened the pasture gate, he would have trotted on over and gotten on the trailer by himself.

I'll admit my shoulder was aching pretty badly. I had spent the morning cleaning the kitchen and taking out the copious amount of recycle that had accumulated in the house. Probably doing all I did today and riding was overdoing it just a bit. I did take the time to ice my shoulder before we loaded up.

As the title of my post proclaims, what a lovely day. It was beautiful out. Perhaps I am somewhat more inclined to appreciate the day simply because I got to ride. It's been over six weeks since I've ridden Hoss. I'm very glad we got such a great day to do our first ride back.

I didn't want to take a long ride. With my shoulder still recovering, taking a short(er) ride was a better choice. So we went down to Hollenbeck Canyon. I figured a quick eight mile ride was just the ticket.

The dogs were thrilled to pieces to get out. When I let them out of the truck, they took off so quickly I lost sight of them for a moment. Confident they wouldn't get too far away, I unloaded Hoss and got him ready to go.

I was prepared for a little bit of a wild ride. Having been so long since Hoss has been truly out, I was pretty sure he'd give me a hard time. I am happy to report he was pretty well behaved. After a momentary threat of taking off, he really settled down well. I think he's lost a little bit of fitness in the past weeks. We did do some trotting, but not much, and we ran half way up the big hill, but for the most part we were content to walk. This was good for the dogs, too. They've definitely lost a bit of fitness.

By the end of the ride, my choice to take a short slow ride first was shown to be a good one. My shoulder was really aching by the time I loaded Hoss back in the trailer. I called the local pizza place and drove to get dinner rather than try to make something. All in all, it was a good day, and I can't express how glad I am that I got out there and rode my horse.

From Mind-Numbing Monotony to Unrelenting Chaos!

I saw my doctor on Monday and was officially freed from the sling. I was still not *supposed* to use it until Thursday, but, yeah, right. I didn't use it much, but I certainly didn't just leave it hanging at my side doing nothing. I can't raise it very far – especially to the side – and I've little strength, but things are better. One of the things my doctor did was up my dose of Aleve to two pills twice a day. I was very surprised to find it made a considerable difference.

So Tuesday I picked up my assistant and off we went to get a couple of horses shod. We were headed up to an area where my cell phone coverage is iffy at best. Usually I won't even bother to answer my phone if it rings while I'm there. I can receive texts and – usually – get them out. But since my kids are grown now, I don't worry too much about being out of contact.

My daughter was planning to come out and ride Hoss for me in the afternoon, so in the morning I had lunged him to be sure he would be reasonably well behaved. The last time I lunged him, two days before, he was being very disobedient, so I was concerned that he be reminded how he was expected to behave. I knew I'd not be home when my daughter arrived, but I also knew she knows what she's doing.

My phone rang a couple of times, but I didn't answer as I didn't expect to be able to actually talk to anybody. I was beginning to wonder why I was so popular when I received a text message from my friend, the massage therapist, who lives about three miles down the hill from me. It simply read, "Hoss threw your daughter. She's hurt." Oh crap. I told my assistant we needed to hustle it up so I could figure out what was going on. I texted back to find that my friend really didn't know anything. I texted my son, who has recently moved back in, and my roommate, asking them to take care of my daughter.

I chivvied my assistant along to get the last horse done, got him to load the truck, and we left. I don't think I've ever driven so fast on those back roads. At that point, I believed Hoss and thrown a bucking fit and tossed my daughter, then dashed home by himself. I got home to find out I had misunderstood the situation.

My daughter had headed out about 3:30 on Hoss with "Team Fluffy" eagerly on their heels. They did great until they got to the running hill. My daughter let Hoss out to run, only to find the Fed Ex truck coming down the hill. Hoss shifted to the left to avoid the truck, and misjudged a berm that had built up on that part of the road. He hit it wrong, tripped, and went down hard. My daughter, who rides in the dressage saddle, wound up pretty much on his neck and had lost both stirrups. Hoss started trying to get his feet under him while my daughter tried to get herself back in balance. At some point Hoss shifted to the right, and my daughter, whose momentum was still forward, "Supermanned" over his shoulder and hit hard. She hit hard enough to slide up the hill a bit. She described that Hoss sort of looked at her (he was still going forward) and, evidently deciding he had no idea what that was on the ground, continued on his way up the hill. He topped the hill and realized he had no rider anymore! Distressed, he turned to look back down the hill and hollered for her. I think he saw her moving and realized where she was but, being a horse, waited where he was for her to come get him.

The three dogs came back to my daughter to check on her. Now, I can just hear this conversation. Mac, my fastest and possibly the smartest of the three, told Ash and Jazz, "You guys stay here, I'm going home for help!" And that's just what he did. He ran home and into the house, found my son and started bugging him. My son, not having been around much, didn't realize that Mac does not stay home from a trail ride, and for him to come home when his sister hadn't arrived yet was unusual to the point of alarming.

Meanwhile, the Fed Ex driver, having just witnessed this alarming fall, stopped by my daughter to help her. He got my cell phone number from her, and headed on down to hill, as he didn't have service where they were and would have to find an area where he could call. When he did, he called me, and not reaching me, called 911 to get her emergency aid.

Not long after the Fed Ex driver left, the UPS driver came by. Recognizing the dogs and horse, he stopped as well to help my daughter. Unable to do much, he drove to the house and told my son his sister was pasted on the road. This was about five minutes after Mac had arrived and tried to tell him the same thing. (I can only imagine Mac thinking, "I tried to tell you!). My son put on his shoes and headed out. He was unable to find the keys to the Jeep, so he took off on foot.

By this time the Fed Ex driver had arrived at my friend's home, where my roommate was having a massage. He needed my friend's signature, and started making conversation by describing what had happened. Alarmed, my friend and roommate both asked for clarifications and quickly realized it was my daughter and horse he was talking about. That was when I received my first message about the incident.

My roommate contacted my son to make sure he was handling the situation. My son, running along the road, was spotted by a couple coming in who asked him what was wrong. He told them and they gave him a ride to the scene.

The ambulance and two fire trucks had arrived to tend to my daughter. One of the firefighters retrieved Hoss. It was clear my daughter had suffered an ankle injury. They splinted it for her, and she decided to wait for my son to get the Jeep and drive her to the hospital.

My son somehow got back home for the Jeep and drove back out. It took some doing to get Ash in the Jeep. Since he first met my son, Ash has been utterly terrified of him. So my daughter had to get on her feet to get Ash in the Jeep. I said later I would have just made the damn dogs follow the truck home! Someone led Hoss home, rather than having him led out the window of the Jeep.

I arrived, hot as can be, just before my son was getting ready to drive my daughter to the hospital. Hoss had been unsaddled and put away. I was ready to leave him tied to the trailer for hours, thinking he had run off and left my daughter on the road. Everyone hollered at me and got me calmed down and explained what had happened. I still got Hoss out. He hadn't been groomed, which I felt he earned after that experience, and he needed to be checked over for injuries. I turned that job over to my son and took my daughter to the hospital.

After several hours at the hospital, it was determined my daughter had a nasty sprain in her left foot. Other than that and some scrapes and bruises, she's fine.

One might expect that would be the end of a long day, but of course, it was not. Just as my daughter and I were preparing to leave the hospital, my roommate texted me to let me know her cat, who is declawed and suffers from seizures, had somehow gotten out. In spite of their best efforts, she and my son were unable to catch her.

I get called "Dr. Doolittle" around here. I'm the one who figures out what's wrong with animals, where they are, all sorts of things. It seems I can control the critters pretty effectively. So it more often than not falls on me to deal with serious issues and unusual situations relating to the animals. I advised my roommate to leave the cat alone, just to have someone outside to ensure nothing nasty got close.

My daughter and I arrived home a little after ten. I knew by my son's presence outside that the cat had yet to be recovered. I found my roommate in her room, treating herself for an asthma attack. Due to her allergies, trying to chase her cat down in the currently tall grasses was a bad plan. Once I had gotten a sweatshirt and put down my stuff, I headed out to find the cat myself.

I did a quick perimeter check to be reasonably sure no predators were close by. Once I had satisfied myself that there wasn't anything around, I started a real search. I was walking around calling in hopes of getting her to make a sound, but only succeeding in getting one of my own cats to follow me around, wondering what the heck I wanted.

There is a rock formation on the back side of the house that creates the perfect hiding place for a cat. I figured the cat was in there. Unfortunately, especially in the dark, it's hard to see in there. It's also difficult for me to get in there with just one functional arm. My cat finally figured out what I was doing, and showed me where the other cat was.

I was finally able to get myself down there, and got my roommate and my son out to try to keep the cat from escaping. This particular rock formation has at least three different escape routes. The cat tried to dart out, but I managed to get hold of her right in front of her hips. I wormed my hand up her back and was able to scruff her and get her out. She turned to try to bite me, but seemed to realize I was trying to help her. Once I got her out, I handed her off to her very grateful owner, and they headed back into the house.

It was a very eventful day. I wasn't in bed until midnight after getting the cat and tending to my daughter for the night. All that in one day. I never would have thought it possible.

 

Status Update and Random Observations

It has now been just over four weeks since my surgery. Mostly I'm bored. There's only so much Criminal Minds and Operation Repo one person can watch. At least I can still do my morning walks, and weekly choir rehearsal breaks up the mind-numbing monotony.

I started physical therapy a couple weeks ago. At this point it's passive. I lay there and the therapist moves my arm around. Of course, my range isn't what it was before the surgery. So she moves my arm until I object, then ignores me when I try to tell her what muscles are restricted. It's more than a little frustrating. At my last session, she was gently massaging a muscle that wasn't causing a problem. I might as well have been informing her that the sky is blue when I was pointing to the back of my shoulder and saying that was the muscle that was hurting. She's a very nice lady and I'm sure she's well educated. She just seems to be so sure she knows better than me what I'm feeling. Besides, she really doesn't do massage. I'm always vaguely concerned that she's trying to come on to me.

Along with the physical therapy, I have been seeing my massage therapist once a week. She does the same passive motions, with the exception that she works the muscle that's causing the issue. This past week, she discovered that one of my incision scars has adhered into the muscle. This means the skin at that point can't move over the muscle. It seems to be the primary reason I don't have better range. So now I have to convince the physical therapist of the problem so it can be addressed. My massage therapist doesn't think it can be broken free without going in and cutting it loose. I suppose that's what I get for not removing the stitches earlier.

The drugs still make me a little sick. I've had to address a queasy stomach with Dramamine a couple of times now. The physical therapy compounds the issue. While in the long run it will help me regain my range of motion and strength, in the short term, it means I experience more pain than I did before. So I really need to take the drugs more often than I was. I don't want to do this. It means I'm sick more often! Something of a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation.

Hoss is clearly beginning to suffer from boredom, too. It's not as bad as it could be. He gets to come along on walks, which he clearly enjoys. I lunge him every few days, which reminds him just what "boring" is. My daughter rides him a couple of times a week. He has clearly deduced that the sling has something to do with why we're not riding. He has bitten at it several times now.

My roommate bought tickets to a walking tour of San Diego's Gaslamp Quarter. It was an effort to get me out of the house and doing something other than sit still. It was a really neat tour. We got to hear about some of San Diego's colorful history, including the brothel that didn't close down until the late '80s. It was a nice little diversion. Included in the tour was the opportunity to sample some of the cuisine of the Gaslamp, so we were well-fed, too!

The dogs are starting to get particularly nutty with the shortage of exercise. Ash had to go in to the vet twice in two weeks, as the new vaccine he got the first visit required a booster. He gained a few pounds over those weeks. I'm gonna have my work cut out for me getting these dogs slimmed back down.

My little old lady dog, Roxy, has been doing astonishingly well. Since she blew out the cruciate ligaments in both hind legs, I've been watching her carefully, sure she would start to decline at any time. I started her on a joint supplement some months ago. It was clear pretty much immediately it helped her. Since then, taking the supplement regularly, she has gradually continued to improve. Where she was struggling to keep up, she's been getting well ahead of me. She does quite regularly end up far behind, but it's only because she wants to smell all the roses. Now when I stop and call her, she happily comes running to catch up. She has also started heading off into the underbrush again. She is really feeling confident again. I am very happy to see her so happy.

It will be many more weeks before I'm able to do many of the things I can't do right now. I haven't mentioned going back to riding to my therapist yet. I'm pretty sure I won't like what she says. So I figure when the doctor frees me from this ridiculous sling (it's getting smelly; I really want out of it), I'll see how it feels and go from there. I have to be very careful so I don't undo the repair, so it still may be a while before I can get a saddle on Hoss. My therapist says another eight weeks until I can "get a cup of coffee to my lips" with my left arm. I refrained from mentioning that I don't drink coffee, and I can get my left hand to my face, thank you very much! I'm sure if I inform her of the second, she'll tell me I'm doing too much!

Surgery and Other Stuff

It's been two weeks since my surgery, and there's a lot to say! I'm relegated to typing with one hand exclusively. I'm not to use my left arm at all. This has made life way more interesting.

The morning of my surgery I finally managed to squeeze in the time to try boot shells on Hoss's hind feet. Talk about waiting until the last minute! I took my trimming tools and the three shells into the pasture. I didn't bother to put a halter on Hoss. He was eating his breakfast and has shown me he will pretty much cooperate with me. So I picked up his right hind (his left has wall damage from Eastern High Sierra; I figured it wouldn't give me a good sense of fit and I didn't want to mess with it) and got it cleaned up. Once I had it trimmed, I tried the 0.5 size shell. No go. I was quite surprised. Since the size 1 clearly doesn't fit, I really expected he'd need a 0, but decided to try the 0.5 first. Well, I spent some time looking at what I had, and determined that the widest part of Hoss's hind feet is too far back. The Gloves will not work for his hind feet.

Since that rather disappointing moment, I have been researching EasyCare's other boots. I haven't been able to spend much time in front of the computer, so it's taken longer to accomplish this than it should have. I've decided I'll probably go with the Edge. It's the next generation improvement on the Bare, which I like, but don't like so much I'd be inclined to jump on it. The Edge works best on feet that are longer than wide, a trait I like for hind feet. Hoss, like most horses, has hind feet that are slightly longer than they are wide. Since I can't trim his feet right now, it will be some time before I can make the purchase. It's a little frustrating, but I'll have to live with it.

I'm finding I'm far more dedicated to this barefoot thing than I expected. Originally, I said if the Gloves don't work, I'll just put him back in shoes. Instead I find myself researching alternatives!

Okay, on to the surgery. I got all my tasks done, showered, got in to as little clothing as I could get wear and still be decent, and off to La Jolla. The surgery center is more than an hour's drive from home. Add that we had to head out toward the tail end of rush hour, and it takes yet longer. We arrived just at 8:45, my reporting time. I bailed out of my friend's car and headed in.

The woman at the desk asked me what I was there for. A little baffled by the question, I told her surgery and gave her my name. She then informed me they had expected me at 6:45! Uh, no, really no. I was told to show up an hour and forty five minutes before my surgery time. I was on time. Turns out they'd called me – the previous day, no less! – to change the time. They called the house. I almost never bother to check the home answering machine. I had also very carefully made sure my doctor's office had my cell number as the primary number, since I'm almost never in the house, anyway. And I'd been working until dark that day, so even if I had received the message, it would have been too late me for me to call back and laugh at them. It would have been the next best thing to impossible for me to get there that early.

Fortunately, my doctor was still there, and the surgery was done. I would have been really ticked if it hadn't been done. My feeling was, I'd agreed on the time for the surgery, and it was very inconsiderate of them to think they could arbitrarily change the time without confirming it with me.

When I awoke from surgery, the most important thing on my mind was, of course, what had he done? I must sadly report that he had to do a rather major repair of my rotator cuff and resect the end of my collarbone. Having already discussed what this would mean, I knew I was looking at being in a sling for 4-6 weeks. Not at all what I was hoping for.

On our way home, we stopped at the pharmacy to pick up my meds. The doctor prescribed Norco. I've taken it before, but it makes me sick. The last time it was prescribed, it was a lower dose of narcotic, but the same amount of acetaminophen. It didn't make me intolerably sick. Well, this Norco made me absolutely dog sick. So I called and asked to get Vicodin, which I can tolerate. I was told the doctor "absolutely will not prescribe Vicodin." I was advised to take half instead. Well, that didn't work. I called back, but made no headway.

I was, understandably, really mad! I couldn't take the Norco, and my doctor was being completely inflexible. Suffice to say, I had to find other avenues to deal with the situation.

I had this truly monstrous bandage on my shoulder, and it itched! I assumed it was strictly because of the adhesive in the foam tape they used. It's not unusual for adhesives – if they stick to me at all – to irritate my skin. Overnight, it gradually got worse. I found myself weaseling a finger under the tape to rub gently at my skin. I still figured it was the adhesive.

In the morning, my friend helped me remove the bandaging. Immediately upon pulling it back, we were both struck by a very strong odor of iodine. This is bad. I'm allergic to iodine! It gives me chemical burns. We scrambled about and found rubbing alcohol to neutralize it. My friend got me cleaned up and covered the incisions with band-aids.

The surgical center called to follow up. I said everything was fine, except why the heck had somebody put iodine on me? They denied using anything containing iodine on me. They said they used Chloraprep, which has "an odor" to it. They suggested I was sensitive to it, too. I never did get an answer to my question of whether the stuff smells just like iodine….

There being no instruction for when I should see my doctor for follow-up, I assumed the doctor's office would call me. In the mean time, my sutures started to get infected. In honesty, it looked to me like I could have safely removed them after five days, and it was now eight. I coached my friend through removing the stitches. It was a Saturday, and I figured we could either do it ourselves, or spend a whole day in an urgent care or ER waiting for somebody else to do it. By Monday the infection had cleared up, and I still hadn't heard from the doctor's office. I finally called, and got an appointment to see him that afternoon.

The doctor described what he'd had to do. He had never seen the type of tear I had. It required two tissue anchors and a great deal of debridement to fix. I was so fascinated by the repair I forgot to ask about my collarbone. He said I need to be in the sling another four weeks at least, and need to start physical therapy. This will begin with passive movement of my shoulder. Since he really wants this to start right away, I'm having my massage therapist help me until the authorization comes through from my insurance company.

When he asked if I had any questions, I confronted him about the Norco debacle. He was quite apologetic. Due to a number of factors, the group he's with has a policy that they will not prescribe Vicodin. Ever. He did try to work out a way to do so for me, but was unsuccessful. He's willing to try other things, so I feel I'll be cared for. I have to say I was mollified by his apology and his willingness to seek alternatives.

I was afraid my injury was bad enough to require a long recovery, and I hate being right. My daughter has been riding Hoss for me, but she can't ride more than two or three days a week and can only ride right around home. I've been taking him on the morning walks still. This morning he tried to bolt when the dogs came running up behind him, snarling and barking at each other. It was quite funny. I'm sure if I'd let go, he would have run all the way home with the dogs! Don't worry, he didn't yank me. He didn't even put pressure on the lead rope.

It's gonna be a long haul on this recovery. So far I've managed not to completely lose my mind. I've figured out how to crochet with the sling on, although I'm way slower. At least it gives me something to do!

One Last Ride

I'm burning the midnight oil trying to get my blog current before my surgery in the morning. There has been so much to get done! I'm surprised I've gotten this far. I should be in bed, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. So long as I get up on time and get the morning chores done, all will be well. I'll get plenty of sleep in the coming days!

Since our return from Eastern Mojave a week and a half ago, I feel like I've been up to my eyeballs in Stuff That Must Be Done Before Surgery. There've been horses to shoe, the trash to take to the dump, the dogs to exercise, the list goes on forever. And, no, I'm not really done. There's quite a pile of dishes in the sink, and I haven't cracked open the box of camping dishes to wash yet, either. Well, now it's probably not going to get done. I can think of worse things.

One thing that hasn't been done that is waiting until the last possible second is fitting Hoss for hind boots. I have the fit kit sitting on the kitchen table. It arrived while we were at Eastern Mojave. And yet, I haven't found the time to use it. I kept expecting to have time in the afternoons after I'd worked. But that didn't really happen. On Saturday, it rained most of the day, then snowed! So Saturday was out. Because of the whole keeping the dogs exercised thing, I tended to choose to ride over fitting the boots. This week, I've gotten home too late every day to do anything about it. At this point, the plan is to fit him in the morning after our walk.

I took the opportunity to ride twice since Eastern Mojave. The first time we just went around the block. I had made the dump run – by myself for the first time, thank you – and gotten back with just enough daylight to squeeze in a quick ride. I thought this would be a fairly quick ride, because I expected the two older dogs not to be interested. Well, they were interested! I kept the ride as slow as I reasonably could so they could keep up. As it was, we had to wait at the top of the hill for them. By the time we turned the corner to head home, the air was getting crisp and the sky was darkening. The storm was moving in and the sun was setting.

Snow doesn't last long around here. When I got up Sunday morning, it was a winter wonder land. In some places, the snow must have been close to three inches deep. My truck was certainly thick with it! I wasn't sure I was going to make it to church in those conditions. But the day had dawned with nary a cloud in the sky, and warmed up quickly. By the time I wanted to leave, the roads had defrosted enough to safely drive on.

When I got back from church, I thought I'd better take the chance to go for a ride. I hooked up the trailer, loaded "Team Fluffy" and Hoss, and we went to Hollenbeck Canyon. It was already getting late in the day. I didn't have a whole lot of daylight left. It was a race against sunset, and we took up the challenge!

Hoss wanted to move out, but kinda sorta not really. So I had to push a little more than usual. Okay, so he did 150 miles a week ago. He'll live! He needed the exercise and so did the dogs. Hoss would have spent less time trotting had I allowed him. He was happy to slow down when we got to the steep downhill, but by the time we reached the bottom and the long flat, he was eager to get going. I let him canter some, but did make him change leads. Don't want him to get to favoring one too much. I let him really fly when we rounded the corner and headed uphill just slightly, then pushed him to make it to the top. The dogs were thrilled to be going fast!

A coyote started barking not far off the trail. Fortunately I've got the dogs well conditioned not to respond to the coyotes. This one clearly has had some luck baiting dogs for its dinner! I picked up the trot again to get us away from that critter. I have, in the past, looked back to check for my dogs only to find a coyote following them!

We got home before it got so dark I couldn't put the trailer away, but I did bring it up and open the round pen rather than try to back it in the whole way. Takes a little less time and is somewhat more reliable. It was full dark by the time Hoss was put away and fed. I fed the dogs and prepared for the week that followed, which has been an adventure.

I won't know how long it will take me to recover until after the surgery. It's one of those times when the surgeon really isn't positive what he'll have to do. Worst case is four weeks in a sling and four to six months rehabilitation. That one is a little daunting. I'm a little unclear on what this will entail as to when I'll be able to work and ride again. I'm hoping for the simpler procedure, with two weeks in a sling and go back to normal activity. Everybody keep your fingers crossed!

Eastern Mojave Scenic, Day 4

In the wee hours of the morning, I lay half asleep listening to the rain on the tent. I waited in the tent, not wanting to arise before I had to, and thinking I would feed Hoss early, but would like the rain to stop first. After some time, slipping in and out of sleep, the rain abated. I checked the time – 430 – and arose to feed Hoss.

I stepped out of the tent to find Hoss standing in the bright full moon light in the snow! What an amazing sight. I turned about to see the tent covered in snow, as well. I retrieved my camera from the tent and took a few pictures before I fed Hoss.

I crawled back into my sleeping back and slept pretty well for another hour and a half or so. When I arose for good, I could hear other riders debating whether they were going to ride or not. I was already determined to ride. Didn't really much matter what the weather was! So I saddled up and headed out. And Hoss was still not tired! He was nearly as strong as he'd been on the first day.

The snow did not let up in the morning. I did manage to remember my camera, but, when I changed the batteries in my GPS, I managed to put the dead ones back in rather than the new ones. So I had to sacrifice my camera batteries to operate my GPS. I supposed I didn't really need the GPS, but I like it. I did get a few pictures of the desert in the snow before the GPS died and I switched the batteries out.

The snow continued through the early part of ride, which was up in the higher elevations. Some new trails had been cut through a beautiful canyon. I didn't get pictures in the canyon, but it would have been unlikely for me to get good ones and keep Hoss under control.

For a bit, we were riding with four or five others, trotting along a jeep trail. There were a couple of men out there with cameras. I assume they were with the Forest Service. We were supposed to be riding in pairs. I think they were out there making sure that was what was happening.

After a water stop, the bunch broke up a bit. I ended up riding with a rider on a stocky black and white paint horse. Again, the two horses were evenly matched, so it worked out well. The other rider and I didn't spend a whole lot of time talking, and we weren't really riding together, more like parallel to each other. It was easier for both horses to be motivated with the presence of the other.

We passed old abandoned shacks and mines. There was a burned out bus at one spot. We climbed up through what appeared to be a seasonal river bed. We continued on up to the top, where we were confronted with a clear plastic bag tied to a bush. The snow had fallen on it such that the sign wan obscured. The other rider got off and knocked the snow off. The sign said, "Take a piece of paper to lunch." In the back were small squares of yellow legal paper. We each took one, and rode back down, where we discovered a turn-off that we hadn't seen on our way up. Turned out the vet check had been supposed to be where the bush was, and to make sure everybody covered the trail as marked, the management had put out the take-a-paper check point!

Because of the cold, the vet hold was reduced to fifteen minutes. Hoss couldn't have cared less about the cold. I had sent a crew bag with his cooler in it. I threw the cooler over him, but I really don't think he needed it particularly. He dove into his hay, and nosed at the bag he knew his bran was in. I mixed up his bran mash, and he slurped it right up. We stayed in the vet check longer than we needed to. I didn't want to take him away when he was eating so enthusiastically! Still, I did eventually take him away and pack up the crew bag. I vetted him through, put my crew bag on the truck, and we headed off with the other rider.

The other horse seemed to know what leaving the vet check meant. It meant we were on our way home! That horse trotted out with ears up and no effort to slow down. Hoss kept up with him just fine. I decided to let him continue to keep pace with the other horse, as it was a pace he could reasonably keep.

Once we descended out of the higher elevations, the sun came out and the snow had melted off. It got quite warm, really! The trail was nice with good footing and few treacherous spots. I was pretty content to let Hoss trot on behind the other horse.

We were about four miles from camp when my foot started hurting badly enough that I needed to slow down. I just couldn't keep up posting any more, nor could I stand in the stirrups with that weird pain. It was a nervy sort of pain. I pulled Hoss down. He didn't like it, but after a while he settled in to a walk. It helped a bit when another horse caught up behind us.

I kept Hoss at a walk until my foot started to feel better, then let him trot. He picked up a nice, even trot, not trying to catch up with anybody, just setting his own pace. Finally! Only took three days and most of 150 miles for this to happen!

Once we were within two miles of camp, I slowed Hoss down again. No need to go rushing in. A few times he started looking about, and I kicked him up to keep him from deciding to behave foolishly. Despite that, we walked nicely in to camp.

On our way up to the vet check, Hoss decided he needed to be spooky about everything he had been walking past for the previous two days. Lots of looking about and going any direction but truly forward. Someone commented he was tired. Uh, no, not really. He's just being overly silly.

One last time, Hoss vetted through nicely. I took him back to the trailer and untacked him, and for the first time since I put him in the trailer, I took the boots off his front feet.

I did find that sand and gravel had collected in the gaiters on his boots, and there was sand between his sole and the inside of the boot. However, he had no wounds or rubs. A few days later I discovered some hair loss where the gaiters had rubbed his pasterns, but it wasn't huge. I have to say the Gloves were a success. I know in the future to clean the gaiters out regularly, but otherwise, I am very happy with the performance of these boots.

On Monday morning, I removed the pair of shoes I had nailed on Hoss's hind feet. I found that he had worn through the leather pad on one hind foot. I also noticed he had been pretty persistently hitting his right hind foot about an inch below the hairline with the shoe on his left hind foot. This resulted in a thin spot that was just starting to show blood! I suspect the extra length of the pad was the reason he was doing that. I suppose he'll just have to have boots instead!

Eastern Mojave Scenic, Day 3

Despite overnight rain and dire predictions of continued rain for the day, I got up and saddled up. I was very glad I did. The rain cleared out fairly early and made for a nice day to ride. I have to say I agree with the Duck: There is no such thing as bad riding weather, just inappropriate clothing. While I would generally not ride on a rainy day at home, I'll ride at an event no matter what!

I was really hoping Hoss would be a little worn down from the previous day's ride. Well, I was hoping in vain. While he wasn't quite as bad as on the first day, he certainly wasn't settling down! He still wanted to catch up to and pass every horse he saw. So, I started pushing him to pass – and keep going. This worked relatively well, until he decided he'd passed everybody, then he went in to slug mode. We got past all the horses we saw, and he slowed way down. I just kept pushing him. Not exactly the easiest thing in the world to do, but it had to be done. After a bit, I'd let him drop back to a walk. As soon as another horse tried to pass, though, he'd try to pick up the trot again.

At one point we were passed while I wasn't holding the reins. I don't remember why I didn't have the reins in my hands, but the result was, he realized he was about to be passed, and surged into a trot. I decided to simply let him trot a while, since it would have taken a bit to pick up the reins and pull him back. So instead, I made him trot longer than he really wanted to!

After a few episodes of leapfrog, the rider of the horse who had tried to pass us and I decided to simply ride together. Our horses were well matched and got along well. We had ridden together briefly at Death Valley, too.

Because of the threat of rain, the ride management had reworked the trail so that the vet check was back in camp. We came in and brought our horses to check in, grabbed some lunch, and headed to our trailers. I gave Hoss a nice bran mash and some hay. Hoss seems to particularly appreciate his bran mashes on rides.

Since I was back in camp, I decided to lay down in the tent for a while. I was tired! It turned out I only had about fifteen minutes to rest. An hour really is not a very long time! Still, I laid down for a bit, and was glad of the brief rest. I got up when my fifteen minutes were over and took Hoss to the vet. While we were vetting, the rider we had been with arrived to get her horse checked through. We decided to finish the ride together.

After heading back out on the trail, Hoss was a bit logy. This is not unusual. He often feels a little less than motivated after a long vet hold. This being the case, we decided to canter a bit to wake both of our horses up. Hoss picked up the canter somewhat less than enthusiastically, but was motivated enough to keep it up to prevent the other horse from passing him. After we let the horses drop back to a trot, we continued on our way, me feeling like I had to keep goading Hoss at every stride.

We were trotting up an incline, not steep but noticeable. Hoss is not happy about uphills. He likes flat and downhill. This was borne out when we hit the flat part, and suddenly he was moving forward! We're gonna have to work on that whole moving out on uphills thing.

Once we were moving out nicely, it was easy to keep the horses going. We did walk from time to time. Mostly, though, we trotted. The horses wanted to go mostly side by side. This would get complicated when the trail would get narrow. Neither of them were particularly happy about the idea of giving trail to the other. So, as riders, we were checking back or pushing forward to make them give trail.

The rest of the ride was uneventful but pretty. I like the desert. I've heard from others how they don't like doing the desert rides because it's "too barren." Barren? It's beautiful out there! It's flat, but I like it.

We finished in a respectable 8 hours. Hoss once again vetted through with flying colors. I took him back to the trailer and settled him in. One more day to go!