Trail Riding

Speaking of Ozzy and JR...

Typical NJ.

Moving my  horses to the Amwell Valley was a really good call. The farm is nothing fancy and I won't be giving lessons out of there any time soon, but I gained access to some of my all time favorite trails. I rode Ozzy more during the month of May than I did in all of 2013. It is nice to enjoy my own horses for a change. Best of all, Christine has been coming down to ride again. Trail riding with my best friend is what I dreamed of as a kid. We're not kids any more, but it still makes me happy.

In the mean time, I've been poring over pages and pages of maps in an attempt to memorize what is a very vast trail network. I quickly figured out a nice seven mile loop behind the farm, and can make many shorter loops within that loop. Long time readers know that I boarded Ozzy on the Amwell trails shortly after I got him. The barn I'm at currently is at the outer edges of the area we rode in back then, which means I'm doing a lot of exploring.

The problem is that the trails have changed a good bit since then, what with the major storms and all. On top of that, it's a close trail system, which means you have to be a member to get the maps. They don't mark most of the trail purposely, to keep outsiders from trying to navigate it. Even with the maps, you kind of have to know what you're looking for. For example: cross the road by the golf course, go two driveways to the right, cross the wooden bridge, and the trail head is in the far corner of the yard, by the willow tree. If you didn't know it was there, you'd never find it. On top of that, I have misplaced a few key pages of the map (yes... pages, plural... it's a big system).

Wide open fields.

I've done most of the trails at one time or another, through hunter paces, client horses, etc. Now I'm basically playing connect-the-dots. There has been a lot of riding down dead end trails to find out where things definitely don't connect. It's a learning experience and keeps my brain busy. Haha. I also take the dogs walking out there, usually to confirm that what I think is a dead end really doesn't go anywhere.

Christine has been an excellent sport about all of this, happily riding JR along the road when I miss a connecting section of trail, and humoring me when I say things like, "This trail has dead end written all over it," or, "This is familiar, but not like bull field familiar."

Pats for a perky pony. I think he 

actually enjoys our adventures!

This week, Christine came out to escape the hustle and bustle of closing on their new house (!!!) and I decided to head out in the direction opposite of our usual route. We rode our horses around the vineyards while I searched for a trail head that I remembered vaguely from a hunter pace two years ago, and which the trail map swore exists. After zig zagging back and forth across the windy main road, we finally found our way over a large, wooden bridge to the entrance of the winery. There, an excitable old dog ran circles around us, barking his head off, but the horses didn't care.

Just as I was starting to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing, we found the trail opening I was looking for. We rode through fields of wither-high grass, winding our way between old, decaying round bales. It was lovely. The trail didn't go exactly where I imagined, but it was close enough that we could find the road crossing I was searching for. With that question answered, I redirected us to a stretch of trail that I am familiar with, but which Christine hasn't seen yet, and we took the long way home.

Along the way, we crossed a deep spot in the creek. It was deep enough that C's feet touched the water. I think that if we get a good rain, JR might have to swim it!

Deep spot!

We also took a detour and splashed up and down the brook for a long time, imagining what a nice break that would be in the sweltering heat of summer.

I'm still searching for a boarding solution that would allow me to combine my business (lessons and training boarders) with direct access to trails for Ozzy and any friends who want to come ride JR, but for now I'm content to reacquaint myself with the paths that Ozzy learned to be a trail horse on.

View of the vineyards.

Lots of water on trail.

Leading JR to a good mounting spot. Home is in the background.

JR couldn't resist a snack.

Friday Fotos: JR at Liberty

Fat!Pony was dismayed to find that participation in photo shoots is mandatory. I realized last week that I have posted lots of pictures of him being ridden, but have never done a formal 'look at the pretty Morgan run' post. So here you go. JR gets exercised.

He can really move!

WW (3): Ozzy Spam

Tired of me yet?

Have some pictures of my mothy-looking, half-shedded standardbred. He thinks he's majestic.

WW (2): Dom's Observations On Deer

Ok, so not really a WORDLESS Wednesday, but full of photos so it counts...

I've been getting to know the deer in our driveway. I'm starting to be able to tell them apart (and it's the same little herd every night!) I am also learning a lot about their body language and herd dynamics. They are actually quite similar to horses. I know which doe is the 'alpha mare' of the herd, and I've figured out which ones are the younger members of the group. They are pretty approachable, especially if you don't look them in the eyes, and I think they're starting to get used to my camera.

I took these photos while Mike was working loudly on his truck a few feet away, which tells you how brave these particular deer are. The images are un-cropped, so you can get a feeling for how close I was. I did have a zoom lens, but not a super zoom.

I'm like a little kid with these deer. I get excited every time they do the most mundane things. "OMG, that one flicked an ear!!" "Look at the little white socks!" "IT SCRATCHED ITS EAR!!!" I think Mike must be getting tired of it.

The doe in charge.

WW (1): Love Living Here

Love that the dogs are happy.

Love the wildlife in the back yard.

Love our greeting committee at the foot of the stairs.

Love this gorgeous stallion.

Love him.

Love him so much.

Love the deck (and the boy).

And Herbie does too.

Sarah's Visit: Part 2 / Introducing Marcus

Well, this is a dual-purpose entry! It's appropriate that I'm blogging this part of the trip today since I rode Marcus a mere two hours ago :)

The second day that Sarah spent with us was a Friday. Those of you who are friends with me on Facebook have probably heard me refer to my "Draft Horse Fridays". Of course, I have Wink in the afternoon, and Sarah and I had grand plans for him, but I also have Marcus in the mornings.

Who is Marcus? Let me tell you!

Marcus is a twelve year old Percheron/Paint cross who I am totally in love with. The more I work with draft horses, the more I am convinced that I need to own one, even though there are days I wish I could get out of owning horses entirely. Half kidding. I think.

Marcus was Amish-broke, then ended up at a farm in Ohio. His owner, Gail, bought him about three years ago, sight-unseen. They failed to mention that he had two blue eyes, and she apparently almost sent him back when she saw them for the first time. I'm not a big fan of blue eyes on horses in general, but I will admit that they seem to suit Marcus.

Gail has two other horses, an old (30+) retired warmblood gelding, and another draft cross (Belgian x Paint) named Shane who she rescue in really bad shape shortly after she got Marcus.

Marcus has actually had a good bit of training both in and out of the ring. He is reportedly broke to drive, but Gail has never hitched him to a cart. She has, however, done basic dressage and a good bit of trail riding with him. He has also done some despooking clinics and some police training. In fact, my evaluation ride basically consisted of me scratching his neck, hopping right on him, riding him for ten minutes, and declaring that he's a good horse over all.

So where do I come into the picture?

Apparently, Marcus is pretty good on trail when he has company, but Gail has been unable to trail ride him alone. She lives half a mile from Collier's Mills, a great trail system that I've mentioned on the blog in the past. Unfortunately, getting to the trail head requires riding down the road, the thought of which makes Gail uneasy. She has made the effort to get Marcus over his separation anxiety, hand walking him to the trail head before climbing on board. Even after repeated attempts, however, Marcus would go a little ways down the trail then stop dead, balking, refusing to go forward, spinning towards home, and even threatening to pop his front end off the ground.

In our initial emails, Gail lamented that she was sick of waiting to have someone to ride with in order to be able to enjoy her horses. In fact, she hasn't been doing a lot of riding lately because it's too much hassle to find a second rider to go with.

I told her that my approach to a horse like this would be to put lots of solo miles on him, addressing the problem where it occurs. Of course, this is something that needs to be done by a confident and experienced trail rider. And so I was hired to put miles on Marcus.

What a joy this has been! I genuinely look forward to my Friday mornings. During our firs trail ride, I did dismount and walk Marcus until we were off the pavement. It wasn't long before he showed me his reluctance to go down the trail on his own.

His biggest problem spot was along what they call the Lost Lake in the park. It's a narrow stretch of trail shrouded by weeds. There's a stream that flows through a pipe under the trail, making lots of noise, and there tend to be surprise animals in the brush... frogs, deer, etc.  The first time we got out there, I did have to lead Marcus past the scary lake of doom the first time. I probably could have pushed him past it without dismounting, but I'm past the point in my life where I just ride it out if I don't have to. After a few rides, Marcus started to get comfortable around the lake. He would still get a little tense on the approach, and give the water this wide-eyed look of worry, but he walked by without balking.

Then, one quiet Friday morning, I came around the corner to find the trail flanked with volunteers who were picking up litter. Men crouched in the bushes. Garbage flew through the air. Everyone was carrying giant garbage bags. Did I mention that Marcus's arch nemesis is the plastic bag? Rut-roh!

I have to say that that ride was a turning point for us. I was lucky because the volunteers weren't horse people, but they were  very respectful of what I was doing, and wanted to help make this as good an experience for Marcus as possible. They followed my instructions, talked to the horse, and even offered to let him see the plastic bags up close. By the end of it, Marcus was standing next to the Lost Lake with one foot cocked while the volunteers petted him. I was very proud that day!

Since then, our rides have been simply delightful. Marcus continues to get braver with each ride. He also continuously surprises me with his level of fitness. The week before Sarah came down, we rode all the way out to the back of the air force base and back in under an hour. That's a seven mile round trip! Marcus was barely sweaty. I keep telling his owner that she needs to take up CTR with the big guy. We are doing more exploring and more relaxing every week, and we canter more and more each time.

Talk about getting paid to do what you love!

So the Friday of Sarah's visit, she came down to Collier's Mills with me. She had said right from the get-go that she wanted to do whatever I normally do. I was deeply appreciative since I welcomed the company, but am really not in a position to turn down any money that I can make.

It turned out to be an awesome photo opp!

Sarah hiked the trails while I rode Marcus for the hour. We also decided to take advantage of the scenic lake for some photos! Marcus had never been ridden in water before, save for a handful of puddles that I had made him traipse through the week before. He hesitated for a couple seconds, but I was able to nudge him in. Once he was in, he seemed to have the time of his life, splashing around and even offering some trot along the shoreline. He was pretty freaked out by the fishing boat that was gliding on the surface of the lake, not far from us. He gave the single loudest Alarmed!Snort that I've ever heard come out of a horse before, which had us cracking up.

Of course, I couldn't resist the urge to canter him up and down the sand roads of the pine forest either.

I was delighted when I saw the shots Sarah had gotten! I didn't realize how big Marcus is until I saw the images. I mean, he's a broad horse, but he's not as tall as some of the drafts I've worked with. Still, he's a pretty impressive guy!

Can you tell I'm totally in love?

Friday Foto: Trail Turtle

Sarah's Visit: Part 1

The week Sarah came down was crazy. Not crazier than any other week in my life, I suppose, but more well-documented. After much procrastination, I've decided that the best way to tackle her visit is chronologically.

Sarah contacted me in February to ask if she could plan a trip down. I feel like we've known each other online forever and ever, and she was on my top people to meet list pretty much from the get-go. We were more than happy to have her, but we put the trip off until May. I was hoping the weather would warm up, my schedule would settle down, and I would be done at the clinic by then. In the end, all I can say is ha. Haha. Ha. the weather did warm up, but my horses are still in that awkward half-shed phase, and Sarah picked the dreariest, grayest week of them all. I did take off from the clinic for the week, but I am still very much working there.

Sarah arrived on a Wednesday night. She was flying into Newark, then taking the train from the airport to the station closest to us, a straight shot with no transfers. Getting in and out of Newark is essentially torture, and the train goes straight from the airport to us. It's how we pretty much always pick guests up. Of course, since Sarah and I were going to be in the same area, the universe had to conspire against us right from the very beginning. The week that Sarah came down was the same week that they finally decided to repair the section of track that runs to the airport itself. This meant Sarah had to take a plane, then a shuttle bus, then a train to get to us. I did tell her that I'd drive in to get her if it proved to be too much of a hassle, but she's a smart girl and managed to find her way to the train without us.

It was pretty surreal to finally meet Sarah. There's so much that I already knew about her from her blog and her Facebook, but you obviously don't really know someone until you meet them. I imagine it's like meeting a celebrity. Haha.

We drove back to the apartment, trying to squeeze in as much conversation as humanly possible, while Mike sat in the back seat. I'm sure his head was spinning. At home, I introduced Sarah to the dogs. I was delighted at her reaction to them, which was to basically hit the floor and get slobbered all over while rubbing bellies and cooing, "Hello vicious pibbles! Hello!" We fed Sarah some of my experimental stew from that night, set her up with an air mattress, and let her unwind after a long day of traveling.

I had specifically left Thursday pretty much open. There's a big time difference between BC and NJ and Sarah wasn't on the good end of it. As luck would have it, the weather was cruddy that day so Mike had the day off as well. After sleeping in, eating breakfast, and catching up on even more gossip and stories, we moseyed our way up to the only thrift shop I know of around here, a hole-in-the-wall place called God's Closet.

I'm not sure the woman grumpily working the register appreciated us being there so close to closing time, but I'm pretty sure we were the only paying customers that day, and she really should have been grateful for the business. It was a cramped place and I actually wound up climbing over furniture to get to the dress selection in the front window. Sarah and Mike proceeded to put me in more dresses in five minutes than I've probably been in in five years. They ranged from bridesmaid dresses to this frumpy blue thing that made me look like Aunt Jemima. As I was paying for the one dress that seemed to live up to the task, Mike discovered a whole other rack of gowns downstairs. There, I found a lovely purple/blue dress that fit like a glove. We were down to the wire on the store closing, and we wound up getting both dresses. More photo shoots is good, right? Right.

I find a dress!

Mike looks amused.

Since we were in the area, we also stopped at Dover so Sarah could look at all the horse things. While we were in the store, a woman named Tracy called me. She boards with my friend, Lynn, at a really fancy barn near SRF's old farm. It's one of those places where the footing is softer than my bed and the horse stalls are fancier than our apartment. Basic board, without any of the bells and whistles, starts at $900 per month. Apparently, Tracy had a horse named Sirius who had an issue with trailer loading. Lynn had told her good things about me, and we scheduled a session for the following Tuesday.

Little did I know what I was about to walk into...

*dramatic music*

From Dover, we drove to DeLucia's, our favorite pizza place of all time. We took the back way so Sarah could catch a glimpse of some of the New Jersey oil refineries countryside. It was something I was hoping to do more of over the course of the week, but we simply ran out of time.

At the end of what was turning out to be a long day, we went to the barn to feed my horses. Sarah got to meet the gang, plus the sheep and Benny, Frances's dog.

We got home at the end of the day, concluding that things were already busier than we had planned.

Adoptable Dogs

Mike's First Trail Ride

Woke up this morning with beautiful weather and a long awaited day off with no plans. I asked Mike what he wanted to do and his response was, "Want to go take the horses for a ride?"

Um... YES!

We proceeded to have a lovely three and a half mile jaunt across hill and dale. JR was on his very best behavior and Mike even rode him through the belly-deep creek. I was very proud of them both. I didn't have enough room to bring my big camera but I really wish I had! 

I think it's time to buy a bigger saddle. Mike seems to be digging the English thing. 

Introducing: Ben (and Atticus)

I don't even know where to start blogging about all the things that happened while Sarah was here so I'll start with something else entirely. Spring always brings a ton of evaluations and a cluster of new clients, most of whom I haven't even mentioned. Some will make an appearance in the Sarah entry, but here's one I did manage to document myself.

This story, like many that I tell, starts with a tangent.

My favorite flower is chicory. For those of you who don't know, this is chicory:

That's right. My favorite flower is a weed... the one that grows in droves on the side of the highway.

Mike is the type of guy to bring home flowers for special occasions (or sometimes for no reason at all). He asked me very early on what my favorite flower was. Of course I had to present him with a challenge. I can only imagine the looks he got when he went to his favorite flower shop and asked if he could special order a weed. Unfortunately, the woman who owned the flower shop wasn't able to help him, but she did remember him after that. The next time he went in, she exclaimed, "You're the one whose girlfriend likes chicory!"

In the process, Mike got to know Debbie, the flower shop owner. Of course, I was the topic of conversation (after all, it's all about me). When Mike mentioned that I was a horse trainer, Debbie got excited again.
"I have horses!"
"What kind?" Mike was genuinely interested.
"I have a thoroughbred and a Belgian."
"Belgians are my favorite breed!"

And so Mike gave her my card, in case she ever needed it. Months went by and we completely forgot about the interaction.

Then, one day, an email appeared in my inbox.
"Your husband gave me your card when he was in my flower shop..."
He's not my husband, but aww...

Unfortunately, the email wasn't heading where I hoped. Due to personal circumstances, Debbie may have to re-home her two horses. She was reaching out to see if I might know anybody who would want them. I asked for specifics, and was a little bummed to learn the answer.

Ben is a twelve year old Belgian. He was rescued from the Amish as an emaciated two year old. Debbie got him as a vaulting prospect for her daughter, and he had some training before the daughter moved away, started a family, and moved on with her vaulting/riding career. He hasn't done much of anything since.

Atticus is a seventeen year old thoroughbred who was picked up off the track as a youngster by an eventer. It wasn't long before the eventer came to the conclusion that Atticus wasn't right for the job and sold him on. Atticus has had some training as well, but also hasn't done much in the last four years. To make matters worse, Atticus suffered a horrific stifle injury over a decade ago when he tried to jump the fence and got impaled on a post instead. He healed completely and is, thankfully, sound and cleared to jump, but he has a huge scar that is visible from across the field.

I wanted to help Debbie because Mike had told me what a lovely and kind person she is, but I wasn't sure what I could do for her. After a lot of careful thought and consideration, I sent her a politely worded email that basically said that it's hard enough to place young, sound, trained horses who are in regular work. Finding homes for two horses who haven't been touched much in four years would be nearly impossible, especially the older thoroughbred.

Debbie inquired about having an evaluation done, and suggested that she could hire me to get the horses back into work, to increase their chances of finding good homes if need be. We scheduled our first session, and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Debbie keeps her horses at home, ten minutes from where we live, right on the other side of the trail system I board on. Talk about convenient!

I pulled up the driveway and my jaw dropped. The house and property were lovely.

And then I met Ben.

Usually, people tell me their horse is 17hh+ and I tell them, "No he's not." I'm not sure what's up with the trend of claiming your horse is bigger than he is, but when you meet a horse who is seventeen hands or higher, you know it. In this case, however, I stepped out of the car, looked up, shielded my eyes from the sun, looked down to make sure I was on even ground, and asked, "How big is he?!?!"
"He's about 18hh."
"I believe it..."

Ben is ENORMOUS. You could build a small town on his back. His head is bigger than Ozzy's body, I'm pretty sure. I could live inside his neck.

And he. is. gorgeous.

Beach Boy hair, a kind eye, a handsome profile, and a studly neck that I can't wrap my arms around. It's too bad we're beyond max horse capacity because Ben is exactly the type of horse Mike wants.

And then I did Ben's evaluation and found out that Debbie had been selling herself short. She is quite an accomplished horse woman (and has had some really big name riders as students in the past).

Ben may not have done much in the last few years, but it took him about a minute and a half to shake off the dust and remember all of it. He round pens exactly the way I teach horses to round pen, and in ten minutes he was circling, changing direction, walk, trot, canter, and halting on verbal command without so much as a halter on. I was thoroughly impressed and probably would have jumped on him bareback on the spot.

What a completely cool horse. He's responsive, but mellow; totally into what you're asking him to do, but polite; huge, but surprisingly agile. We're trying to find a saddle on the east coast that will fit him, but I am dying to get on his back! He does have a vaulting surcingle and could probably go in a vaulting program tomorrow, but I don't have any vaulting experience to speak of.

I am completely enamored.

I told Debbie that I didn't want to waste her time and money by training a horse that is already trained. I would love to get on him when the time comes, but she is completely capable of getting him back into regular work without my help. I promised to come back with my camera and take photos of him so we can put together an ad if she decides she does want to part with him (she's obviously in love with the horse and I hope she gets to keep him).

Atticus was a different story. The horse is not very people oriented and does not like to be caught. He's not mean or unfriendly, but he is stand offish. He has also obviously had the training put in, but he's a lot rustier and hotter and more sensitive. He's a little underweight (it was a really hard winter on everyone out here, it seems) and lacking muscle, but he's a nice mover and a pretty honest horse. Everything he does wrong is out of genuine confusion or nervousness, not because he's ornery. I have spent three sessions with him now and we're still doing ground work. He definitely needs time, patience, and a thorough refresher course before anyone gets on his back. We are building up his attention span, but he can't get past ten minutes or so without getting distracted and tuning out. I think I have my work cut out for me!

Ozziversary

I'm trying not to give too many spoilers and post all the amazing photos Sarah took while she was here, but I do have to say Happy Gotcha Day to Ozzy with this one, which is so very, very us. We weren't ever cut out to be elegant and serious, though we do pretend sometimes.I love this horse to pieces.

Dancer's Potential New Home

It's a very long, very unexpected story, but Dancer left for a 30 day trial at a Very Fancy Barn yesterday. I'm half afraid to say anything out loud, but here are a couple photos taken by Sarah Underwood when we dropped him off.

Sunday Stills: Sourland Dogs

Cheshire CDR: A Well-Documented Ride

Originally, I was supposed to go to Virginia on Saturday to do the LD at OD No Frills with JJ, then turn around, drive six hours home, grab about an hour of sleep, and head out to Pennsylvania for the Cheshire CDR on a completely different horse.

I was excited for a lot of reasons. Liz was going to be at No Frills, and I was super excited to see her (it's been way too long!) JJ is a great horse to ride and I was looking forward to that. All the OD rides have been on my bucket list since the beginning of time and starting with No Frills would give me a chance at finally doing the Triple Crown this year. Plus, it would be my first time doing Cheshire, and everyone I know promised me I would love it.

Unfortunately, Chris lost her mom and her father in law within four days of each other, the week before the ride. Apologetically, she informed me that we wouldn't be going to Virginia. Instead, she wound up flying to Seattle for her FIL's funeral, and I wound up watching her three dogs for a week (separate entry coming).

That left the Cheshire, and I was still excited.

I would be riding Dodie's mare, Steel. I met Dodie at Ride for the Ribbons last year. I was doing the photography while she and Mike did the timing. Mike took an immediate liking to her and spent the car ride home telling me how nice and funny and fun Dodie was. I later met Dodie's other mare, Daisy, at the Devil, where Sherry rode her alongside Ozzy for 25 miles. The little bay mare had a go-all-day trot and could match my big standardbred gelding stride for stride.

It would be Steel's first trail competition, and my first time meeting her, let alone riding her. Dodie does a great write up of Steel, registered Steeln My Hartss, on her website, but the short version is that the mare did a lot of ring riding and some showing, but not much trail riding. She's a 15 year old, petite, gray mare, and I had seen a lot of her on Dodie's Facebook. I had also heard nice things from both Sandy and Sherry. When the chance came up to do a new ride with one of Dodie's horses, I was all over it!

Mike and I were up in the dead of night for the two hour drive to New London, PA. It was easier to make the drive for the 6:30 vetting than to find someone to watch the dogs over night so that's what we did. Herbie and Julio were still groggy when I roused them for their pre-ride potty break. Deciding it would be less stress for everyone involved, we left the pooches at home for the day. That left Mike's hands free all day to do lots and lots of photo-taking.

The ride over proved to be a little more of an adventure than I had hoped. I forgot that half the roads in Hopewell were closed so we wasted a good twenty minutes on endless detours. I should have just taken the long way! By the time we got off the PA turnpike, I was a zombie behind the wheel. Mike laughed at the 'Keep Alert' signs that lined the roadways.

Before I knew it, we had found Newark Rd., where ride camp was located. We had entered the rich, rich part of Pennsylvania, and the street was lined with gorgeous horse properties, stone barns, and acres and acres of rolling, green pasture. I drooled a little, and started to feel awake. I had gotten a little dyslexic at the lovely hour of dark o'clock and had gotten the numbers in the address all mixed up. Mike asked if we should turn around, but I told him I was pretty sure I could find ride camp without any stinkin' numbers. Sure enough, we rounded a bend to find a cluster of horse trailers and tents in the middle of a huge, grassy field.

"See! Told ya!" I beamed as I turned a freshly repaired Poof into the grass.

I searched for Dodie's rig, but saw no sign of her. Figuring she would be wearing her trademark bright yellow, I parked the car and headed out on foot. We had made it just on time, and I was hoping we weren't holding her up too badly.

I knew I would be spending the day riding with Cheryl and her Paso Fino gelding, Sooner. I had photographed Sooner at Ride for the Ribbons, and Cheryl had friended me on Facebook shortly after. I felt like I knew her already, though we had never officially met. With his high white socks and characteristic Icelandic-esque forelock, Sooner is an easy horse to pick out in a crowd, and it wasn't long before I spotted him in the sea of Arabians.

As I walked over to his pen, Cheryl jumped up from her chair and asked, "Are you Dom?"
"Yes I am!!" Glad to know I'm easy to recognize. Haha.

It turned out that Dodie was having a 'pony mishap' and would be running a little late. Relieved that I hadn't missed her, I trekked over to the sign in area with a gimpy Mike following close behind. There, I caught up with ride management, cleared up the longstanding question of 'are you riding the 15 or 25?' and grabbed some coffee and donuts. Thank you, dear god, for the coffee and donuts.

Just as I was wondering if Dodie was going to make it before vetting closed, I heard my name being shouted across ride camp.
"Dom!!! Dom? Has anybody seen Dom?"
"She's here somewhere..."
"DOM! You're wanted in the vet area!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!!!"

Last field before camp.

Dodie had arrived, and I had a lead rope thrust at me. At the other end stood a sweet looking gray mare with a refined face and big, soulful eyes. "Hi Steel, it's nice to meet you." I rubbed her neck. "You probably have no idea what the heck is going on!" The mare had just enough time to blink before I trotted her out and had her pre-ride vetting done. She passed with flying colors, despite the fact that she had just stepped off the trailer. She also trotted like a seasoned pro. Good girl.

Thankfully, Cheshire is probably the most laid back ECTRA ride I've ever been to. That usual bustle and rush just wasn't there. I actually had time to snap some candid photos around camp during the ride briefing, and there was plenty of time to tack up between the meeting and the start. After the crazy week I was having, it was a welcome breather.

We were the third group out at the start, and we were mounted and ready to go with fifteen minutes to spare. We got the time to pose for photos and relax for a bit. Plus, I got to know Steel a little bit before hitting the trail. Steel took in her surroundings with an air of calm acceptance. The other horses didn't bother her at all. She seemed befuddled (what kind of show is this?) but not at all bothered.

Sadly for Steel, she comes from the type of show home where horses are not allowed to graze under saddle. As those of you in the endurance world are well aware, that is a necessary skill on your longer rides! Mike is always boasting his ability to 'train with love' so I half-jokingly called out, "Ok, babe, come teach Steel that it's ok to eat with a rider up!"

And that's exactly what he did. Mike offered Steel a handful of grass. After a moment of hesitation, she took it, chowing down gratefully. Then he held the grass lower and lower so she had to stretch down for it. Then he started to pull it just out of reach, until Steel got flustered and decided that it was just easier to grab the stuff growing out of the ground.

"Good girl! Yes!" we all praised her. There was a definite moment of hesitation, like she was waiting to be punished, but then Steel grazed and grazed until we started. I'm sure it will take time for the lesson to sink in for good, but it was a nice place to start!

Looks like he's proposing!

Before long, we were off! They started us in groups of five, but Dodie, Cindy, and Adrienne on their faster, more seasoned horses, soon left Cheryl and myself behind, leaving us to ride our own ride. It was the absolute time of my life!

Cheryl and I had the best time together. We are both usually the people with the camera, which means we get a lot of ear shots, but very few photos of ourselves on trail! We were both excited to have another person with a camera along for the ride, and we schmoozed along taking a million photos as we went. We had a lot in common and we chatted and laughed the entire way. I don't think there was a moment of silence, and for once, it wasn't me doing all the talking! We even took the time to pose for photos along the way.

Looking like an Arabian.

The ride itself was absolutely gorgeous. Stunning countryside, reminiscent of Fair Hill, but with more things to look at. There were rolling hills, endless green pastures, and amazing barns and houses. It was my first time doing the ride, but I sincerely hope it's not the last. What amazing trails! There was a variety of terrain as well, from crop land, to expansive horse farms, to wooded areas, rivers, and steep hills. I was afraid I would run out of memory card!

At one point, we rode past a particularly nice property with a stone house and a giant stable with stonework, spires, and archways.

"I'll take that barn!" I exclaimed as we trotted by.
Cheryl, who had done the ride before, said, "Actually, that's the dog kennel." 0_o

Steel, for her part, was a very good girl. She was brave and full of try, which is all you can ever ask for in a horse. She trotted right down the trail, not the least bit concerned with what Sooner was doing. She would lead or follow or get left behind, it didn't matter.

For the most part, she wasn't fazed by much of anything. There were, however, a few things that got her pretty rattled.

Great views.

The first thing was a huge pile of fallen trees in a horse paddock. To be fair, I think she was looking at the horses, who had all come running up to say hello, and the logs kind of snuck up on her. Cheryl and Sooner had reached the end of the lane by the time we got past them. All the same, Steel didn't do anything bad. She just sort of froze and stared, every muscle in her body quivering. I let her take a good, long look, patting her neck and talking soothingly to her. Eventually, she walked right past, merely giving the logs the stink eye.

And then there were the horse-eating cows. There was a pasture full of young belted Galloways. One in particular was feeling frisky. He ran up and down the fence line, bucking and frolicking and shaking his head every time a horse went by. The trail sort of popped out of the woods and came directly upon the cows, then swung right to cross a road and climb a steep grassy bank.

Steel took an immediate dislike to the cows. At first, she just tried to go wide to get around them, but when the one started to run around, she completely lost it and would not. walk. forward. I pushed her while Cheryl waited patiently, but the poor, sensitive mare was just getting more and more upset. Because of her history, she's very sensitive to rein pressure, even with a hackamore and no bit in her mouth. Any kind of contact with the reins sends her into a panic. I basically gave her a completely loose rein and allowed her to move forward. By the time she finally scooted past the cows, I could feel her heart pounding through the saddle.

Covered bridge!

Worst of all, she now had to turn her back on the carnivorous beasts to get across the street. That was simply unacceptable! We had another battle as I tried to get her to rejoin Sooner on the other side. Eventually, deciding that I didn't want to get dumped on pavement (or continue to hold up traffic), I let Steel take a short cut up the bank, which allowed her to keep a wary eye on the cattle.

Of course, the lay judge was standing right there and I got yelled at because, "You have to go past the ribbons at the turn!" It's bad enough that you can't dismount and lead your horse past something that terrifies her. CTR! Eeesh! But I obliged.

After the cows, it took Steel a little while to get her brain back. We had one more balking episode at the big highway crossing. The volunteers did a great job holding up traffic while I sweet talked Steel into throwing her fit in the grass instead of the roadway. I will say that the cows seemed to put everything in perspective for my little gray girl, and she didn't even bat an eye at the horse-eating logs on the way home. Poor girl!

There were a few moments on the way back to camp that Cheryl and I wondered if we were going the right way. I can't really blame ride management or the trail markers since we were really in la la land for a lot of it, but at one point we were convinced we were doing the loop backwards. Every time we were about to turn back, however, we would reach a check point and get assured that we were going the right way.

How appropriate.

I think the most disconcerting part was when we road through the giant cross country course about six miles from the finish. We were way up high with a view for miles, but there was no sign of anybody around us, including Dodie and company, who should have been right ahead of us. To add to the unnerving feeling, we started passing the mileage markers for the CTR finish... but they were facing away from us!

"Are we going the right way?" we asked the woman at the road crossing immediately after.
"Yes you are!"

By this point, we had half an hour until our minimum completion time. We figured we had a mile or two to go, but nothing looked familiar, so we asked the volunteer how far we had left.

"I'm not sure," she shrugged, pulling out her map. "You are here. Camp is here. This is the trail so probably about... five?... miles."
"Five miles?!?!"
Our GPS hadn't started so  we were way off our calculations, with little time to spar. "We better boogie!"

Whoops!

The last five miles of trail featured a covered bridge, a watering hole (Steel refused to even think about drinking), and even more cows (apparently not the flesh eating variety). Then we reached the last stretch, the biggest hill in the area. This is where Steel gave me the most beautiful, balanced canter. Cheryl and I let the horses out and had a splendid, breathtaking gallop up the hill, through the treeline, and into a field full of wildflowers. Wow. Just wow.

We rode along a beautiful river.

We crested the hill and rode down into the back of camp, and there was Mike, standing faithfully at the finish line, camera in hand.

We got our time cards, stripped tack off the horses, and waited twenty minutes to pulse in. (48bpm, good girl!) We did our trot outs, and I got my best circles to date! Then it was time to wait for hands on. Steel seemed a little uneasy at the trailer by herself so I walked her over to Cheryl's rig to get her cleaned up.

The hands on went without a hitch. Steel had stepped on herself and nicked her heel, but otherwise did great. Despite the fact that she didn't drink a drop on trail, she wasn't the least bit dehydrated, and her gut sounds were good. No soreness, no lameness, good muscle tone. We passed with flying colors and got our completion!

Once the horses were done, we finally grabbed some lunch. There was a great selection of food and we went back to the trailer to chow down. We sat on the tailgate, keeping an eye on the horses and recapping our ride for Mike. It looked to be the perfect day.

And then Steel decided to make things exciting.

Dodie ties her horses long so they can graze, and that's how I had Steel, but she kept dancing around and turning her butt to the trailer. I kept watching those legs get really close to the fender and I could just picture her damaging her tendons. After some debate, I decided to shorten up her tie so she couldn't turn around completely. Shortly after that, Steel panicked, reared, lost her balance, and fell down, smashing her face and head into the side of the trailer. I was horrified (and in the process of untying her). She got to her feet, pulled back, and slipped right out of her halter.

"Loose horse!"
"Shut the gates!"
"Someone grab grain!"

Unlike at the hunter pace, everyone jumped into gear to help. The pair of riders who had just crossed the finish line dismounted and held their horses still, hoping to attract the loose mare.

She didn't drink, but she did splash right in.

Steel trotted a few circles around camp, then spotted Mike and ran right to him (the man is a horse magnet, I swear). He wrapped his arms around her neck and held her in a big bear hug until I came over to halter her.

That's when I saw the blood rimming her left eye. At first, I thought the eyeball itself was bleeding, and my heart stopped. The vet was at her side before I had fully registered what was going on. Thankfully, it was just a superficial cut to the corner of the eye. It just showed because of her white hair. We got her cleaned up, and she seemed no worse for the wear.

Minutes later, however, Steel lifted her head from grazing and I saw a trickle of blood coming out of her nostril. Now in full blown panic mode, I dragged her back to the vet. I was worried there was some kind of trauma and that she was hemorrhaging or something equally awful. What if she fractured her skull? What if she dropped dead before Dodie got back to camp! It wasn't my horse and I wasn't qualified to make a medical decision. Dodie should be coming in any minute. We tried to call her, but no answer.

In the mean time, the bleeding stopped and Steel was acting like her old, calm self. Cheryl had loaned us a rope halter and I was hand walking her instead of leaving her tied.

After what felt like an eternity, Dodie finally crossed the finish line with Daisy. I told her what had happened, and after looking the mare over, Dodie decided she seemed just fine. We finished the afternoon in relative peace. Steel did try rearing at the trailer and whacked her head one more time before the day was through (on a loose lead this time) so I guess that's something she's prone to doing (and I feel slightly less guilty about it now). Hey, at least it was after hands on and she didn't lose points, right? Priorities!

We did stay until they handed out completions before heading home. Steel scored a very respectable 95.5%, amazing for her first time out! She lost two points on her less than enthusiastic trot out, some for the mark on her heel, and one for her pulse being over 44. They also knocked her for being 'tender in the girth area'. She wasn't sore at all. She's just girthy and doesn't like to be touched there to begin with. Next time, I'll declare it at vet-in so she doesn't lose points.

Over all, it was a great first ride experience, and she only went home with a minor concussion.

After a brilliant, relaxing day, and some really wacky tan lines, Mike and I hit the road back to our extremely hectic lives. Cheshire has definitely earned a spot on my 'top rides' list. Steel is definitely a horse I'd ride again. Dodie is an awesome person to ride for. Cheryl is the perfect person to ride with. And Mike is just awesome from start to finish. It was a happy, happy day.