Day two - First Day in the Saddle part 2

On my way back to practice I thought about what Mark said about working with young horses, or more specifically, babies.

Here's an embarrassing confession. It hadn't really clicked in my head that Smokey was a baby - I thought of the whole "baby" thing as a term of endearment. Not a literal description of what he is.

Over and over people would tell me how cute my "colt" was.

Colt? I didn't have a colt. This is a colt:

Smokey, to me, was not a colt. He was a horse.

But of course, he is really a baby. Mark explained that for the first three + years of a horse's life he can do whatever the heck he wants. Eat when he wants. Run when he wants. Pester when he wants. Then, at 3 or so the other members of the herd put their hooves down and the baby has to toe the line.

Smokey, like all babies, needed to grow up and realize that he had a job. That there were expectations that had to be met.

And it was my job to do that.

I need to keep my signals simple and clear.

The next time I came up we worked on stopping without the turn. That's when Smokey got his new nickname from Mark.

Goofball.

It took a while, but we got to a nice, clean stop without turning.

By the way my phrasing was off in my last post. The idea was to focus on a spot where I was going to stop and just keep that spot. Not compromise. We had to stop when I was facing the spot I was looking at, period.

Whew. That took a while.

Being compromising by nature was not a good thing. But we got it done.

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We left the clinic to jet down to the East Mountains of Albuquerque to pick up my niece and drop off Donna who was looking forward to a quiet evening. My niece and I went to meet bloggers!

Justina and Don, from Morning Bray, Val from Fantastyk Voyage and a surprise from Lisa from Laughing Orca Ranch!

It was a bit of a wait for dinner, but the food was great and the company even better. We laughed, shared stories, learned top secret answers to questions we always wondered about (See? this is why you have to go to dinner with bloggers. Ply them with food till they talk!).

And we celebrated Don's and my birthday! Yep, we're just a day apart.

Here's my rather cloudy cell phone picture. But the memories are as clear as a bell.

Val, Me, Justina, Don, Lisa. And a pretty ravaged meal. Yum!

Wish I could have bundled them all up and brought them home with me. But in some jurisdictions that's considered kidnapping.

Shame, really. :)

Day two - First Day in the Saddle part 1

Warning. Ridiculously long.



We arrived on Friday morning bright and early. I'd been up for hours, unable to sleep in because of the excitement. Smokey apparently felt the same.

Oh, wait. That's his "whoopee grain!" face.

It was surprisingly cold, and I was grateful for the layers I had on. Unfortunately I had underestimated the power of the wind and I was one freezing Texan in New Mexico by the time things were getting started. I pulled out some blankets and snuggled in, ready for the clinic to start. My rides were scheduled for the afternoon so I could settle in a bit and see how Mark worked.

Rain, Mark's unbelievably cute, intensely trained dog.

We riders had elected to change formats from the one on one hourly format to the "group" format.

The "group" format - or what I'd call the double one on one - is the only format they do in Europe now. And I can see why. Having done both, this is far superior.

The one on one hour format is just that - you work with Mark for an hour, then leave the arena. In this double one on one you work with Mark on whatever it is you want to work on for anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. Then you ride off to the back of the arena to practice. In the back of the arena Crissie is there watching you ride and giving you feed back, or helping you get unstuck. You know how it is, you're there with the instructor and everything seems very clear, then when you're on your own it slips through your grasp? This fixes that part completely.

Then, after you've practiced and everyone has had their round with Mark, you come back up to check in, work on something different or fine tune what progress you made. Due to this format I won't have much to report on the riders I rode with because I was too busy working. I'll just cover a few highlights, posting on a few other riders throughout. For this post I'll talk about this team.



First up in the morning was this woman and her palomino. They had ridden together for a year but things that had started well were starting to go not so well. At first they checked saddle fit. That was a problem so they got a new saddle on the horse - no more pinching shoulders (I had an empathetic flashback on that one).

Still the palomino mare was still not feeling well. She was sensitive to the touch at her jawbone. She mouthed the bit constantly. They switched bits, and it was marginally better. They managed to do some work on "softening." But by the next day it was clear. This mare had severe TMJ - caused by power floating.

Mark said they are seeing more of this kind of problem. A previously easy going horse will become resistant as a result of TMJ. The changes take place slowly, over months, eventually getting to the point where this mare was. The new method of power floating - using power tools - can result in the tools heating up to the point that they actually melt the enamel. In some cases the back teeth become smooth as glass, making it very difficult to grind. The increase in effort required causes the TMJ and often results in trouble throughout the body of the horse.

Mark noted that he was going to be going to "dental school" next year with Spencer LeFlure, a dentist who has taken the entire concept of equine dentistry to a different level. You can learn a whole lot more at this link. He even fixed Pat Parelli's horse, apparently (it's on the website).

If you have time, watch this video (skip the first 2 minutes, it's just a long intro).




I would like to note that during this entire clinic Mark never says "you need to buy this bit" or use "this dentist." He's not a marketer of anything. He's willing to tell you what works for him and what he's seen in other horses. But there's no sell in this guy.


Over the next few days the woman and her palomino worked on ground manners - her mare was walking right into her - and ground tieing. While they didn't quite get to do what she had hoped, they did find out that what was going on wasn't likely to be an issue of training. It was pain.

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The temperatures kept dropping like prices at a garage sale after lunch. A wonderful woman, Jenny, who had been on a clinic auditing tour for 10 days (boy, can I get that kind of job?) offered me a down coat - which I borrowed for the next two days. I was toasty warm and able to focus.

But dropping temperatures meant we'd be going indoors.

Smokey had never been in an indoor area. And most of my challenges with Smokey have been in just a regular arena, where his stops, his turns, and his steering all seem to come apart.

Donna encouraged me to to ground work first and I laughed. No kidding were we going to do ground work! I was planning on spending a good bit of time on the ground, walking him around the arena where the canvas and metal creaked and flopped. One end was a little sandier, there were a were odd things all over, but the sounds and lack of horizon were what seemed to be the most upsetting.

We worked for a while. I even got a little rear on the ground and had to ease the pressure back (which had been pretty low, but apparently not low enough). I encouraged someone else to go first (I was "technically" first, although there was no real order), giving Smokey a chance to get used to all the noises, the crowd reactions, and to accept this environment.

I got in the saddle and we rode around in at a walk and at a trot. I tried to remember some of the things Mark had talked about in the morning - keeping reins tighter, riding with intention. When it was time to ride up for my turn I wondered where in the world we'd start. Smokey just wasn't the horse he was on the trail, and I didn't understand what was going on.

I introduced Smokey - who was by far the youngest horse at the clinic - and explained what was going on.

"How's his stop?"

I demonstrated. It was non-existent. After a few turn stops we halted. "He's never like this on the trail."

"That's because the trail is doing the leading, not you."

I didn't understand this, but frankly had my hands full of squirrely horse and didn't get to explore that idea. Mark immediately told me not to flex Smokey, which is what we'd been doing when he got like this. "While you're here, you will never, ever flex his neck."

Okay. As it turned out the flexing had been what had unhinged his steering completely. But more on that on the second half of this post. At this point we'd just work on our stop.

So for the next 45 minutes or so we worked on stopping with intention and clarity. (Thanks to Trail Rider for the photo below). Sure, we're stopped there, but probably it took us 30 minutes to get to that. Plus Mark was using some sort of force field (I'm only partially kidding).



Slowly, slowly we tried different approaches. We tried just plain stopping but whenever we faced the audience we just sidepassed into the wall. So we worked on stopping using a turn. That worked better to get the idea across.

Have you ever shot a gun? Mark asked me. Yes, I replied. (Actually I was a marksman in college)

"That's what I want you to do. Focus as if you were shooting a gun. See the target and stop facing it."

Then it started to come together. Our stops got crisper. Then Mark had me ease up on the cue completely. "Just stop," he said.

I cleared my head. I felt my focus get sharp, my intention simple and clear.

We're stopping I said in my mind.

And Smokey stopped.

I heard the intake of breathe from those watching. It took all I had not to cry with joy at this feeling of connection.

I headed to the back of the arena, marveling at what I'd just experienced.

Day one, the demo

Smokey wondering if "clinic" means "alfalfa" in New Mexican

We arrived early in Santa Fe on Thursday, early enough to claim a nice parking spot and stall for Amigo and Smokey. Carlos, the manager for Challenge New Mexico (a therapeutic riding center and our host location for the clinic), was wonderful, helping us back into place, unhook our trailer and get set up.

Now of course we can unhook our own trailer. But I've long ago come to a place where if someone is willing to help then I'm willing to accept it. When I was younger I might feel I needed to make a point of doing it myself.

I'm so over that.


Slowly people arrived and the demo got underway (the full clinic really would start on Friday).


Now if you ever have a chance to take part in a clinic with Mark Rashid - whether as a rider or an auditor - you absolutely must, must, must take part in the demo. Because this is no ordinary demo. This is not some guy riding around on a horse showing how he can do a bunch of cool things with a horse. In fact the one rule at the demo was we could not ask anything about horses. No conversation about "I have this horse..." or "a friend of mine has this horse..." or "let's say, just hypothetically, you had a horse that..."

We were all taken aback by these ground rules, but abided by them, curious what else we could possibly talk about.

This demo was about understanding energy and space.

Mark showed, through a series of exercises, how controlling the space and controlling the energy (or perhaps, more accurately, merging the energy) you could change just about anything.

Along with controlling space and working with energy we learned the importance of intention. At one point I was trying one of the energy exercises (where we push against resisting individuals) and nothing was happening. He came over and said "Now move them." With that intention in my mind, along with a sense of energy and control of space, they did, indeed, move when they hadn't before.

We, as people, are like concert goers with ear muffs, compared to horses when it comes to feeling energy and intention. Our horses have nothing muffling their senses, and I imagine that to them, who readily read energy off a herd or just each other, we must be a jangling mess. I suspect that when they encounter someone who flows, clearly and consistently, it must come as a tremendous relief.

The demo wound to a close and we stepped out into the cool night air from the indoor arena. We drove back to my father's house in the East Mountains of Albuquerque (where we were staying) filled with wonder. This was already like nothing I'd expected. So much of what I was hearing were things, philosophies, really, that I needed in my non horse life even more than in the saddle.

The next day I'd be able to ask every horse question I had, and Smokey, never very good in an arena, would step into a new place, with me on his back.

And there we would begin to find our way.

Sunrise, Friday.

The Launching Pad - Cloudcroft

This is where we'd go. But getting there...

There is just something about New Mexico. One moment you are in scrub desert, the next you are next to pines and aspen groves. If you've never traveled around the Alamogordo area of the state, if you've never been to Ruidoso or Taos, you'd think New Mexico was scrub desert.

I grew up in El Paso, the final stop before you hit New Mexico, and we all knew about the treasures hidden in the mountains of New Mexico. And one of the least known treasures is Cloudcroft. A poor relation to the more popular ski areas of Ruidoso (Ski Apache) and the even pricier Taos, Cloudcroft is a funky little mountain town - emphasis on the little.

It's ten hour drive to the mountains from the Texas Hill Country, the longest ride I've ever attempted with a horse in a trailer. Luckily I was traveling with a very experienced horsewoman in our barn owner, Donna. She had a system for keeping the horses watered in the trailer, all the gear we could possibly need once we got to our destination, and was prepared for every contingency.

'cept for the chainsaws. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We arrived on Tuesday night. We were staying at her friend's cabin while the horses stayed on a little strip of land in a large round pen close to an entrance to the Lincoln National Forest. It's a good thing too - there are no stables in Cloudcroft, making horse camping a little challenging. Donna's friend, M, has purchased a narrow strip of land for keeping her horses near the trail. We unloaded and blanketed the boys, my Smokey and Donna's Arab Amigo. Then we blessed them, told them to stay out of trouble and headed for our own "stalls."

That evening some serious weather blew in and I tried not to worry. They were blanketed, in a secure spot. But they weren't where I could simply walk over to a window and see them. I just hoped they'd be okay.

Smokey and Amigo, joined at the hip.

We headed out Wednesday morning and found both horses no worse for wear, despite the wind and lightening that had danced over the mountain the night before. We fed and got ready to ride.

This little trailer has been a great one. I love that tack room!

Smokey, asking if there will be grass where we're going.

We headed up the hill to our first obstacle. Earth moving equipment.

That's right. We are in a national forest and for some reason the rangers had decided that this was the time to resurface their parking lot. A huge "blade" tractor was making it's way across the road back and forth.

I was suddenly grateful for all the trucks and trailers at the Concepcion ride which had totally desensitized Smokey to large contraptions that make loud BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP sounds when they back up.

We made our way past the construction and laughed about what desensitization our horses were getting.

Little did we know...

We crossed a highway and began to head up the trail. Already it was beautiful and we were still in sight of the highway! Tall pines surrounded us, a sapphire blue sky outlined each branch. Here and there golden Aspen announced the full swing of fall, their shimmering leaves like the wind's applause, greeting us with enthusiasm at every turn.

Just as we were about to cross the forest service road I saw a large 18 wheeler cross in front of us.

"Is that a logging truck?" I asked Donna with a bit of concern.

"Oh, maybe," she said, non pulsed.

I really hoped it wasn't a logging truck. Maybe it was just delivering a ridiculous amount of supplies to a deep in the forest ranger station.

We crossed the road and made a few more turns. That's when the buzzing started.

You know the sound of an angry bee hive? That buzzing that sounds like a million little wings beating in irritation at your approach? It was that kind of sound.

"Um, is that chain saws?" I asked.

"Huh. I think it might be," said Donna. She didn't slow her horse, so I kept following her.

Another truck came up the road behind us and we scurried into the forest to cut through a closed camp site.

"That's definitely a logging truck," I said. The buzzing was getting louder and more intense. Every now and then a bit of the buzzing would stop, as if someone stopped their chain saw, then started again.

"It does look like a logging truck," she admitted, riding on.

I rose in my saddle slightly, spotting the tell tale yellow color of a construction machine.

"That's a bulldozer. Are you sure we should go through there?"

"I think they are just right here. We'll be fine."

I bit my lip. Don't be a wuss, Winter. What's a few chainsaws?

Right about then we rode up to this sign:





And a dozen or so guys coming in and out of a few acres of dead fall with reflective vests, hard hats and, of course, chainsaws.


"It's just on the other side of this," Donna said as we dismounted. "We'll walk them through."

Of course we will, I thought. And hopefully they'll have all four legs when we get to the other side.

We picked our way through the deadfall and I asked one of the workers how long they'd be there.

"Un semana, creo," he said. About a week.

Lovely. We walked through the middle of the chainsaw hive, our eyes on the meadow just beyond. Remarkably neither horse took a single misstep or spooked even slightly. I suspect Smokey was at the point where he decided his best shot was just following quietly to get through all that craziness.

I knew how he felt.

We made it! Like my "don't shoot me, I'm not a deer" reflective vest? Slimming, no?
Yeah. I agree. Makes me look like a giant frig magnet. But hey, we didn't get shot.

Finally, through the chainsaw obstacle we made a few turns in the mountain and the buzzing sound went away and we were immersed in beauty. We walked in the narrow valley between rising mountains, the path where ice and snow linger until the sun finds it in late spring to finally turn it to water.

The rains that have covered the mountains made for a lovely green path for us. Along the mountains we spy splashes of golden Aspen, standing together like festive dinner guests, ready for the holiday party in their brightest clothes.

We took dozens of pictures at every turn. Here are a few of my favorites:

Donna and Amigo

Smokey, contemplating our next step.

This is what it looks like when you cross Nature's outstretched palm.

After a couple of hours we decided we'd gone as long as we could. More challenging weather was expected and we didn't want to push our luck. We stopped at a watering hole and let the horses have their fill, then let them hand graze while we hit our own lunch supplies.

Smokey did well the whole trip, never spooking once - except when he had to cross a stream about 6 inches wide. Sure, have guys jumping out from behind trees with chainsaws and he's fine, but WATER CROSSINGS?

We went over and over and over the water until we could go across without turning into a hunter jumper pony on a cross country circuit. Finally we just plodded across.

At our lunch stop we decided it was time for some portrait pictures...


Here's a few tips for taking pictures in the wilderness with your horse.

First, warm up your subject with a few kind words and a kiss on the nose.

Then, realize that the heck with the pictures, just love on each other for a second or two.

Then pose, knowing that the real photos are the ones you are holding in your heart. But at least you'll have one to hang on the wall.

And, on the way home, stop for grass. Cuz that's why we came, right?

It was the best day I've ever spent on a horse, the kind of day that makes all those disastrous horse times completely fade away. One of the top 10 non mommy related experiences I've ever had. (Cuz nothing compares to mommy moments, ya know)

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The next day we loaded up and headed for Santa Fe and the Mark Rashid clinic. A few folks who attended/audited have already posted, but I'll be doing a series of posts on my experience and observations over the next few days. Yes, I'll be yammering on and on. You know how I am. And yet, here you are! LOL

Here's who's already written (that I know of):

Lisa, from Laughing Orca Ranch (Lisa got several pics of me and Smokey! Woot!)

Dan and Betty, from Dan and Betty's Place

So, more to come on the best horse week EVER.

Now, to catch up with you! How are you doing? :)