Storm Ranch Endurance Ride - one woman's perspective

As you may have surmised from Smokey's post, he was not my ride at the endurance race. He was just at the ride to gain experience traveling to such events. I didn't intend to ride him there, although I thought I might be able to around camp. I hand walked him around and was quickly convinced that riding him around this first time wasn't an option. He needs more travel time. And I need more experience getting him to stay focused.

I apologize for the photos, they are all out of my iphone. One of these days I'm going to get back to taking real photos!

Happy, happy horse.

We three - me, Smokey, and Lily - arrived on Saturday. Most of the 25 mile competitors were out, but due back soon. The 50s wouldn't be back for hours. Both horses loaded so well, I was taken aback. In fact, Lily right from the start seemed to be happy to be going somewhere. She self loaded and moved to the side for the door to close behind her.

I tied them to the trailer, Lily perky but constrained, Smokey a bit up, but not too bad considering. The BO's new trailer, the Taj Mah Haul, was in place. I'd be bunking there.

Jake (who had been at our barn for conditioning),
did great at his race, coming in 11th.
The Taj is in the background.

One rider, J, was going to leave, but asked if I'd like to take a quick trail ride. Fortunately there was plenty opportunity to pleasure ride at this endurance ride, something I never thought of. I always thought that at a ride like this the most you could do is ride in the endurance rides or just hack around camp. I set up horsekeeping quickly and saddled Lily.

The BO returned - she got 3rd the
first day, 2nd the next.
She's always in the top ten in these events.

Since Lily has had so many soundness issues, I was hesitant to go far on her. J assured me we could turn back at any point if I grew concerned.


Lily headed out to the trailhead with ears forward, only one hesitation around the busy area where the endurance riders come in for the vet check. We hit the trail at a walk, but soon we were trotting.

Oh boy, I thought. This is really going to be a problem. We didn't trot much that first ride out, but that's usually where things get hard on Lily. Just a short bit of trotting used to set her head bobbing. She has improved, only occasional signs of a problem, generally gone once she warms up, but I still worry.People would remark that I was riding her
only in her riding halter, which is a modified
side pull. I never once thought of putting a
bit on her. There is no reason.

Most remarkably, she stayed sound - after 5 miles the first day and 7 miles where we trotted nearly 75% of the time!




It was such a nice set of rides that I wondered why I even had a horse like Smokey. No, no, I'm not letting my silly gelding go, but the carefree ride on Lily who I trust explicitly, was just fantastic.


Lily, of course, is 17. I've successfully brought her back to her best self. She has had a great deal of training and hauling. Smokey can be that kind of horse, but not right now, and not unless I give him chances to go to places, dance on the end of a line and teach him what I can. And to let Lily show him a thing or two.


So this week I gave Smokey his second ponying lesson. But I'll let him tell you about that - next time.

The Accidental Endurance Ride Part 3

You signed us up for WHAT?

Tacked up with my brand new saddle, two little water bottles and 5,431 butterflies in my stomach, we headed down to the trail head. I painted a bright green "130" and tried to glean what that number meant. Surely there weren't 30 riders.

Nah.

There were 38.

!!!!

The start of the 25 milers

Too late to back out now. I mean, my horse had a number on his butt.

I got to the check in and gave my name and number. Ann and Carol were there on their "babies" - a grey arab for Ann who's name was River and a sorrel Arab named King for Carol. Both were barely 4 and River was fresh from the trainer. This is why they were in the intro ride, where green horses or green riders got to head out and give it a try.

Now that I saw the crowd, I was not so thrilled. There is no way I would have agreed to this ride had I known there would be 38 horses. Cibolo did fairly well standing there and I began to think it was a manageable situation until the OTTB started bucking. Then Cibolo was whirling and very... concerned. I got him back under control, but the butterflies I had brought with me had morphed into bats.

I worried we were headed back to South Texas and our ride in Conception. We'd made lots of progress, and I knew so much more. But this was the same situation all over again.

For miles, Cibolo jigged and snorted. I tried turning him, but there were too many horses and frankly, turning just seemed to increase his anxiety. I tried to relax him, stop him, but he fought me. The "babies" were a bit agitated and that fed his nervousness too. At one point I wanted to get off and do some ground work or something, but Ann and Carol both said - just a little further. You can handle it. He'll settle down.

I was getting frustrated and longed for the quiet mounts I saw passing us by. Maybe I was out matched here. Maybe it was too much.

I started muttering his nickname for moments like this. French Fry.

Then Carol said, after being exasperated at some bad trail behavior around us, "Let's trot."

I didn't really want to trot because I thought it would get Cibolo's blood really going. Speed was always the enemy with bad behavior, at least that's what I had learned.

But something happened in that trot. With every foot fall, his anxiety melted. He needed to go faster than a walk, needed the release. It was something he couldn't get from the turns or bends. For Cibolo, he needs a chance to clear his head, and it happens when he hits the ground at a trot. When we slowed down, he was still hot, but nothing like before.

I was stunned. This is the piece I was missing. This is what my friend had done at the trail ride at Conception that I couldn't do - he'd let him canter and "run it out" of his system.

We could do this.

At about the second mile we discovered something else. River kicks.

Luckily my stirrup took the blow:

See the bend there?

Here it is, a little closer.

I guess my guardian horse angel was watching me on that one, because River gave no warning. The clang on the stirrup was loud and based on this damage I'd say I would have had a broken foot - or worse, Cibolo would have really been hurt.


I think at this point it's time to hand over the story to Cibolo who has his own perspective on the ride:

OMG

We got totally lost this weekend.

You know I was kind of suspicious when we got to this place where Amigo goes and there were those stingy rope things up. I had my own little stingy rope pen which wasn't so bad since I got all the hay that was tossed in. And there was extra alfalfa, which I LOVE.

I got the low down from a few horses there - the grass was good, no mares were in heat, there was a stallion here and there, and even a few other of us highly muscled types. Mostly it was the skinny horses though with all the mane hair.

I say real horses don't waste energy growing mane hair.

Anyway, me and mom headed over to the trail and there were some real schizoids there. I tried to stay away from most of the worst of them, since I know that's a sure way to get tossed in a ditch.

We hung out with two skinny horses, youngsters really. One of them kicked my nice new saddle. I should have bit him, but I've got more class than that. Then there were a bunch more horses, and the herd just kept moving around, there were so many of them IN MY WAY. It was creeping me out. Finally, after trying to explain to mom that I needed some space or something, I got to shake a little off and me and mom trotted. It felt great. And she finally stopped with the "easy" business. We got to trot a lot and it was fun.

Pretty soon we got to a place with some water and mom got off and squirted something NASTY in my mouth.



That was electrolytes, Cibolo. One of the women brought an extra one to share.

Yeah. Like I was saying. Nasty. Then mom kept going on and on about the water. I knew it was water, I was standing in it. She even splashed some on my mouth which I DID NOT LIKE.

I got to eat grass even though I had my bridle on which is usually NOT ALLOWED PERIOD. So that was good.

We kept going and I figured we'd be coming up to the trailer any minute. I mean we had gone five miles (according to my highly accurate mental odometer). We never go this far except for our trips at the lake.

But there was more water and she was back to trying to get me to do something with it. Then I realized it. We were lost. Totally lost. I took a tiny sip of water and considered my options.

Then we were off again. We found a pond and I decided it was a good place to drink and I was thirsty. The mud felt great on my legs. Mom was worried I'd lose my cool boots, but they stayed on, no problem.

Again I got to have some grass, which was good. We trotted and cantered a lot, but we were still lost. Sometimes Mom got out of balance, I think her left hind was bothering her. She kept messing with my stirrup there. But she did okay, considering.

There were some spots where the skinny horses got nervous, but I told them everything was just fine. One of them, the gray, did not like cactus. Every time he'd dance away like it was going to get him. I laughed and laughed. Then there was this wolf...


It was a dead branch

I don't think so. Anyway, I totally intimidated it with my fancy foot work and it played dead.

Fortunately, thanks to my knack for these things, we got back to camp and we had gone 15 MILES. Also the vet was there to make sure I was okay. I said of course I was, and proved it with a really low heart rate - better even than the skinny horses.


Everyone was very impressed.

I have a calm nature. That helps.


Right.

Then I went back and Amigo was there. He looked real tired, so I figured I'd tell him how I had to get mom home from God knows where later. I had lots and lots of hay, and lots of water.

Hopefully we don't get lost next time. 15 miles is a long long way from the barn.

It was a beautiful ride, through incredible country, and Cibolo was a champ. He can definitely do this kind of ride even though he's not a "skinny horse." And he pulsed down better than anyone and ended up in top condition.

I learned I can ride him through his emotional moments, that they really aren't that bad. That I've been fearing more than what he's been actually dishing out - afraid of where it could go, not where it is. That's a new and powerful realization for me.

There is a tiny bit more to tell, but I'll save it for another time. This is definitely long enough.

The Accidental Endurance Ride Part 2

Good morning. Where's the Hay?

As I sat around the lamplight, I met the individuals who had come from all over to ride in the heat for 25 and 50 miles. Despite the fact that almost every one was in my age range (late 40s to 50s), I felt like I was the twelve year old suddenly sitting at the grown up table.

They all talked about their horses and who they'd be riding. I talked to a gentleman who got into endurance about 10 years ago after he met a woman who loved to ride and now rides 50 mile rides on his beautiful arab who is 15 years old (or so).

I talked to a mother daughter team who had come out here to do their first ride. And that's where the trouble started. Ann, who is on the board for the Texas Endurance Riders Association, was just a hoot. I'd guess she's in her 50s, short hair, long LQ trailer, and a bigger heart. She talked about how she got into this sport.

"I used to ride cutters, and I had it all down. Girl, my buckles were this big," she said, showing me a dinner sized circle with her hands. She described how she and her daughter got a brochure or magazine on endurance riding and were just laughing at the riders in tights and helmets.

"The first time I came to do a ride, I had my hair done and my make up all on. I figured if I didn't know what I was going to do I was going to look good doing it!" By the end of the ride she said her hair was a wreck, her makeup had melted down to her chest and she was HOOKED.

"So, Winter," she said, smiling at me, "do you have a horse?"

"I sure do - he's right there," I said, pointing to Cibolo, who was blocked from her view by the large live oak. "He's a quarter horse, tends to get a little upset in big herds, so I thought I'd expose him to everything."

"YOU HAVE A HORSE HERE? Oh, you HAVE to RIDE!" she said.

"Well, I..."

She waved off my objections. "You can ride the intro. I'm going to be riding the intro, it's just 15 miles and I'll have my baby. All we're going to do is walk and trot."

"Walk and trot?"

"And there's only, like, 6 people."

The mother and daughter team nodded. "Just six."

Hmm. Walk trot I could handle. And Cibolo would probably do okay with six. And they were all camping within a 25 yard space us, so he was kind of getting to know them...

"Well..."

She leaned in to me. "It's just an intro ride. Very low key."

I took a deep breathe. Sure 15 miles was twice what I had done last week, but Cibolo was sound and I was willing to push myself physically.

"Ok. I'll do it."

And there was much rejoicing.


Later that night in my tent I heard the BO come by. "How are you doing?"

"Freaking out, a little, but excited."

"You'll be fine. He's going to do fine and you are ready for this."

I laughed. "Thanks. I can always walk, right?"

She laughed. "Absolutely."

Late that night the moon lit the hill as I headed down to visit the magic yellow room also known as the portajohn. I didn't need a flashlight, and Cibolo was awake, looking relaxed. Earlier I'd moved around in the tent and he had snorted a bit at the noise. I talked a little and he quieted down again.

As I headed back to sleep I decided I'd still see if they needed volunteers in the morning. After all, I didn't want to let anyone down.

At 6 am I heard the, um, concerns of Cibolo as Amigo got saddled up. Amigo is 6 but he's a very young 6. He acts more like a 4 year old. The BO was having a hard time administering her special mix of electrolytes and Amigo was having none of it - to the point of rearing. I stood by her to help, trying to be a calm spot in the storm.

BO Donna and Amigo, off to the races...

"He gives me a hard time like this," she said, a bit exasperated.

I instantly felt guilty for complaining about the very minor issues I have with my horses on occasion. In fact the ride would end up being a reality check.

I found a Christy, but she was Chris, not Christy and the volunteer coordinator was still not in. I tried to pitch in here and there, but the crew was already in place and hard at it. So, with a little dryness in my throat I asked when I could register for the intro ride.




It was a good hour and a half before registration opened, so I took some pictures. Some of calm horses, some not so much.

Irony: This is the woman who sold me Canyon.
Note she is not riding him. But later we talked
and she said he's doing fine - at home.

The ride coordinator reminded me to bring my horse back up to the front when I registered so he could go through the vet check. It's a good thing I went back for the coggins! No one had asked for it in camp, but now I had to have it to register.

Cibolo and I headed over to register at 8, and I noticed a few more folks there signing up. Four right there.

Okay. Ten riders. That'll be okay.

Cibolo looked on with interest at all the other horses, he'd called out a few times on the way down, but no one seemed to pay any attention to their horses when they did that, so I decided I wouldn't either. He passed his vet check with flying colors. The check included:

• soundness check (trot out and back)
• pushing on his gums to check how he refilled
• heart rate and respiratory check
• gut sounds check
• muscle check
• dehydration test by lifting the skin to see if it would "tent"

We had an hour to tack up and ride. It was a pretty long hour...

The Accidental Endurance Ride Part 1

Part 1: Sunset in Storm Ranch

I'm behind, terribly behind, on updating on Cibolo and my adventures. But what we did on Saturday will take a few days to post about, so I hope you can be a little patient. Plus he has also indicated that he has his own post, which will be up in a few days (he's a hunt and peck typist, and it takes FOREVER).


It all started when my barn owner, Donna, suggested I volunteer for the TERA's Memorial Day Endurance Race. She's very big in endurance ... circles ... or would that be loops?... and has been enthusiastic about me getting involved.

But I've had, you know, ISSUES. Like I had a bucking maniac. Then my horse had a meltdown and practically had me giving up on the entire thing. Then I didn't know how to post. Then I was scared to canter. Then I was cantering, but was killing my horse with the wrong saddle. Then Cibolo coliced.

I'm talking major issues here.

So she was easing me into it. Sort of like a colt in training, I guess.

"Look. See? It's just a blanket. It won't eat you..."

LOL

Anyway, we both thought volunteering would give me an opportunity to see what it was about, give me a chance to see how Cibolo would do around a bunch of horses again, since I was really worried about that most of all, get him exposed to more things.

I'm all about exposing him these days. Last Sunday I exposed him to a very steep hill and he handled it very well. Then we had a dead deer surrounded by buzzards. I'm thinking of playing tapes of dressage in his stall to kind of round things out. :)


Anyway, I was very excited to just go camping with my horse. To me that was a HUGE step and I was pumped.

Then things went kablooey at work (we have a huge new workload due to CONGRESS. If you really want to know, you can go here and learn more) and I couldn't begin to cut out and get started packing in the evenings because it was ALL HANDS ON DECK until dark thirty every night.

PLUS it was the last week of school and THAT was exciting because my girl is off to middle school next year and it was just a huge juggernaut of activity with teacher gifts, parties, and just being there when it counts.

Which is to say, I couldn't really be blamed for forgetting my coggins and having to drive back 20 miles to pick it up through memorial day tourists.

Sigh.

Needless to say, while I was shortchanged in terms of time to get ready, I rushed out to the barn an hour late with my tent, sleeping bag and one change of clothes, along with riding gear in case I'd have time to just ride a bit in between obligations. I grabbed what amounted to snacks (because I never think of food unless I have time to hit a grocery store for a specialized "what I can eat out of a cooler" trip) and headed out to pick up my boy.

I had planned to pre pack my trailer the day before but that went out the window (see above). Fortunately I have everything in a few easy to carry boxes - except my coggins, which apparently went for a walk since the clinic. I had to drive home to print new coggins paper work - I <3 global vet, btw. And yes, now I have three copies stashed - one in the trailer, one in the truck and one in my tack box. I may duct tape it to my tack box this time.

We arrived at the Storm Ranch, where Donna had so thoughtfully set up an extra pen for Cibolo and roped off an area for me to part and pitch my tent under a beautiful live oak. I believe I was the only tent camper, everyone else in the entire place had a living quarter rig, or a friend to hang out with who had one. Or they drove in for the morning of.

I'm an old rock climber and hiker, so I was looking forward to what I think of as camping - nylon tent, sleeping bag and an eggcrate mattress. After all, I was just coming to volunteer. It's not like I'd be RIDING or anything... And, as a desert rat, I can sleep in a bit of heat with no problem.

Cibolo was pretty concerned about this camping at first, calling out to the other horses for a few minutes. Apparently they had positive things to say and with his barn buddy close by he settled right in. He dug into his hay and drank some water, and he and his BFF Amigo shot the manure for a few hours as the sun continued it's glorious golden journey behind the trees.

I looked forward to joining the circle around the lamplight, and meeting other riders who'd be braving the trails in the morning. But first, I had to check in with the volunteer coordinator.
The BO took me over to registration and to meet the ride manager, Howard, who explained that the volunteer coordinator Chris, had left for the day, having gotten sick. I could meet her in the morning and find out how I could help then.

The Storm Ranch is 6,000 acres of stunning hill country, as perfect of a setting for a Texas glory ride as I can imagine. I'm partial to the Hill Country, and it's places like this that remind me of what I love about it. One minute you are in thick scrub woods, the next you are on a hill top, watching the world ripple away from you in a million shades of green. White limestone carves it's own thread through the toes of the Live Oaks whose branches twist and turn with the same pattern as their roots do, every inch of their being taking advantage of a God given ability to adapt and a rather stubborn nature.

Both things I'd encounter within myself and my horse the very next day. Because as it turned out I wouldn't volunteer at all. I'd ride.

Cibolo, camp horse extrodinaire.