Damn That Mare!

Earlier this week, I went up the hill for our weekly riding date. I wasn't in any hurry, and for once Mom and Bill didn't have to rush to get back for check-in, so I was feeling pretty Zen. The mountains always do wonders for my mood, and I was starting off in a pretty good mood to begin with. I was looking forward to an amazing ride on my amazing horse.

When I went into the pen to grab her, she and Alloy were down by the creek getting some water. It was so pretty, I just had to take a picture.

Skeeter saw me coming and decided she needed to drink the creek dry before she was caught. No big deal, we weren't under any time crunch and I was in a fantastic mood. I didn't even much care that she walked away when I went up to her, she just went to the top of the hill where I normally catch her. 

She stood at the hitch rail like a pro while I groomed, fly sprayed, and tacked her up. A gentleman wandering by stopped to chat and she was happy to be a perfect Mustang Ambassador. She didn't even give me much trouble putting her boots on. 

It's always fairly easy to get her left boot on, but her right one is always troublesome. No big deal, I was in a fantastic mood, so it didn't bother me to have to put her on a circle for a couple of laps. As soon as we got back to the hitch rail, she gave me her right foot and the boot went on.

I led her across the street and up the hill with Bill leading out and Mom riding drag. At the base of the switchback, she stopped cold, but move up when I drove her forward with the lead rope. I led her up the upper trail, rather than the switchback and she walked right up it without a problem. My thought is that we'll spend the rest of the riding season walking her up the upper trail so that she can build not-traumatic memories of that and hopefully override the bad memories of the switchback.

Alloy was being his normal impatient self, so Bill was riding him out and back, out and back, while Skeeter and I trudged along to a place where I could mount up. I was wearing an old, comfortable pair of jeans that are just a touch too big. Like, barely too big. Unfortunately, when I went to mount up, the bottom of the leg of my pants got caught on the back of my boot and I ripped my pants in the crotch. But, you know what? It was okay, because I was in a fantastic mood.

I got settled in and gave Skeeter a little nudge to move. Huh. She didn't move. So I clicked and kicked again. Nothing. It was at this point that my fantastic mood began to deteriorate, and I knew she and I would be fighting for the entire ride. When she puts her stubborn pants on and plants herself, there's not a lot to be done.

Now, last week, when she got tired and stopped, I dismounted and led her a ways, but that wasn't going to happen this time. I'd just gotten on for freak's sake! Meanwhile, Bill and Alloy are riding out and back, out and back. Once Alloy gets moving, he has to keep moving or he gets all "ants in his pants" and starts thinking about bucking.

A couple of hard kicks and a threat with the end of the reins later, Skeeter sighed and took about ten steps before stopping again. Lather, rinse, repeat, for half a mile. At one point, I asked Mom to move up ahead of us, hoping Skeets would just follow. Washoe was very patient, and Alloy was getting lots of exercise riding out and back, out and back.

I had, about the third time she stopped for no reason, reached my boiling point. I was so angry, my fists were clenched and I was saying not very nice words. I had decided to tell Bill to turn on the upper rubber strip trail so we could just do the short one-hour ride and head back, when he and Alloy made the turn without me saying anything. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Skeeter made the turn nicely and walked about 25 yards before she came to a dead stop. Again. I picked up my rein and smacked her hard right on the shoulder to get her moving. Since she stepped on my 9' reins a few weeks ago, I've been riding in my 7' ones and they're too short to smack her on the ass without pulling on her mouth, so the shoulder it was.

She must have realized she'd done effed up this time and jumped sideways into a small tree and some dead fall.

She almost looks athletic in this picture. She's not.

Unfortunately, she jumped and crashed right as Bill and Alloy were headed back toward us. Alloy heard the smack and saw Skeeter jump, so bad, bad things had to have been happening. Of course, his first reaction is to buck. The picture is the last one Bill took right before he went ass over tea kettle. 

Bill hit the ground, Skeeter came to a dead stop, and Alloy took about three running strides before sauntering off. I dismounted to check on Bill, who had the wind knocked out of him, while Mom and Washoe went after Alloy.

Once Bill could breathe again, we hiked up the mountain to meet Mom and Washoe with Alloy. Bill remounted to ride out, and Mom encouraged me to remount, but I refused. Alloy's frustration was also at a boiling point because of Skeeter's refusal to move and I didn't want to add any more frustration and cause another wreck.

Yes, it would have been best for me to remount and force Skeeter to carry me out, but it was not in the best interest of Bill and Alloy, so I hiked out. Not the first time it's happened, won't be the last, I'm sure.

I told Mom that once we got back to the lodge, we were going to drop Bill and Alloy off and I was going to mount back up and ride at least around the block. Not the best solution, but a decent compromise, I felt.

Skeeter was Not Pleased when we got back to the lodge and I mounted up. Mom and Washoe rode along with us for support. Skeets and I had a big ole fight about leaving the parking lot and another big ole fight in the neighbor's front yard, but we finally got moving and stayed moving. We only rode about two blocks, and on the way back, we kind of zig-zagged through parking lots and such, taking the indirect way home so she couldn't bolt back to the hitch rail.

For the first time EVER, I considered getting spurs. I don't ride in them, because I've never been trained to and I've ridden horses who have been ruined by people wearing spurs who have no business doing so. But... I seriously considered making an exception. Instead, I'm going to strip the horn bag off my saddle so I can get a good over-under with the rein if necessary. Also, a riding crop may be in her future if she doesn't straighten the eff up.

The next time we go out, it will probably just be me and Mom since Bill's on injured reserve, and we will have all the time in the world for our battle royale. Of course, since we'll have time to fight it out, she won't give me any problems at all.

Gah! Mares.

"My Cup Runneth Over" Ride (7/29/19)

Yesterday's ride was so amazing, I'm not sure I can put it into words.

The day started off with playing "horsey dress-up", but I can't tell that story ... yet. Next week, once we've got the all clear from the folks at GISH, I'll post more stories and the corresponding pictures. Suffice it to say that our day started off with a ton of laughter.

We planned to trailer the horses in to Wild Basin for a short ride up to Copeland Falls for another top secret story that I can't tell you about ... yet. I should have been more nervous about the trip than I was. Two things kept my nerves in check: 1) despite walking half of our "ride" last week, I was completely relaxed when I did ride and I realized I finally trusted Skeeter to take care of me; 2) the excitement of our top secret mission had me focused on that instead of wondering what could go wrong.

Skeeter and I have a somewhat ... contentious ... relationship when it comes to trailers. However, when it was time to load her up, she followed me right on in like she'd been doing it her whole life. I hadn't actually expected her to load up so quickly or easily, so once we were in the trailer I didn't really have a plan. I'm too short to tie her in the trailer, but I didn't want to just leave her loose while I closed the gate, either. She quickly figured out I had no plan and asked to back out. Read that again: she asked to back out. She did not panic and bolt out. She asked.

Well, one of us had to make a decision, so when she asked, I agreed and she backed nicely out of the trailer. Mom came out of the lodge just in time to see us come out of the trailer and gave me an important piece of information that would have been helpful: she and Bill always work together to load Skeeter. Skeets loads in nicely, but then tries to follow the Bill out when he steps back to close the gate, so he threads the lead rope through the window bars to Mom, who ties her up while Bill closes the gate. Since they do most of Skeeter's hauling for me, I hadn't realized they had a whole routine.

Even with that little hiccup, I was feeling pretty good about our upcoming ride. The haul to the trail head was short - only two miles - but it marked the first time Skeets has been trailered to a new trail, one that she'd never seen before. Even if our top secret mission was a bust, we could call the day a win.

It's been years since I've ridden at Wild Basin and I was looking forward to it - I have great memories of riding those trails when we ran the Wild Basin Livery in 2004.

I thought we might have a problem when it was time to put her boots on, but while she wasn't perfect, her fight was only half-hearted. A ranger stopped by to chat us up and once the focus was off of her, she offered up her hoof. We're not dumb, if she's offering, we're taking it. 3 seconds later, she had her second boot on and we were ready to go.

Horse parking is more than a mile away from people parking, so we had to ride in to the actual trail head. Mom and Bill got mounted up easily, but Skeeter and I still have discussions about mounting. She thinks I should be able to do it from the ground anywhere, but my wee legs don't work that way so we always have to find a rock or something to give me a couple of extra inches to reach the stirrup.

Mare face says, "learn to mount from the ground!"

She circled the rock a few times and my frustration got a hold of me for half a second - just long enough for me to practically leap from the rock to her back. I hooked the toe of my left foot in the stirrup as she moved past and threw myself up. Thank goodness for all of Queen Estes' running mount training.

As soon as I was up, we were on our way. Skeeter took the lead for the first half mile or so, walking out confidently, as though we'd been doing this forever. She had one big spook in place; she had been watching a fisherman in chest waders walk along the trail when a car popped up on the road next to us. She shook off her spook and continued on.

After a bit, she decided that she didn't want to lead anymore, so Bill and Alloy hopped out front until we got to the actual trail head. The horse trail to the trail head is better maintained than I remembered, despite its lack of use, so once Bill and Alloy were in the lead, I just sat back and enjoyed.

There is one stretch of trail that always reminds me of Lord of the Rings - the trail is fairly steep, but has steps carved into it, and the trees just tower over us. The only thing missing is fog rolling in. It's one of my favorite stretches of trail.

Pictures just don't do this stretch justice.

The stairs were new to Skeeter and she did pretty well with them.

But there was one ... had she not been riding Alloy's cute little butt so closely, she would have seen that it was a taller than usual step, and not as deep, so she really needed to place her feet well. The LotR stretch of trail is a long, somewhat steep uphill, and she still gets tired on long uphill climbs, so she was rushing up on Alloy. He saw the weird step and hopped up it like a mountain goat. Little Miss My Head Is Buried In Alloy's Butt did not see the weird step until it was almost too late. She got her front feet up, but found the step wasn't deep enough for her to get her back feet on the step as well. There wasn't anything I could do to help, so I just had to sit and let her figure it out, which she did. I'm not quite sure what she did, but it felt like she just hopped all four feet at the same time, then we moved on.

Though it's a very well maintained trail, there are parts that are rocky and tricky and she navigated them all like a pro. Well, except for the weird stair. In order to get to the people trail head, we had to cross a couple of different types of bridges: concrete road bridges and wooden pallet-type bridges. It made me thankful that we have a pallet "bridge" that we use at home for training.

The bridge at the people trail head was different from any she'd seen before and she didn't really want to cross it, but then neither did Alloy or Washoe (and Washoe's done this trail many, many times before). It's a narrow wooden pedestrian bridge with railing on each side. Having people clustered up on each end of the bridge added to the degree of difficulty, but we knew if we could get one horse to cross, the others would follow right along.

I volunteered to lead Skeeter across. Our ride had been so freaking amazing that I didn't want to ruin it by fighting with her over a bridge. I dismounted, grabbed a rein and walked across without an issue. Washoe and Alloy followed along when they realized the bridge trolls weren't going to eat them.

I looked for a place to mount up, and found a rock that would suffice, but Skeeter was not interested in standing while Washoe and Alloy were milling around, so I decided to just walk to the hitch rail. It was only 3/10ths of a mile and I was feeling good. Picking my battles - I'm getting better at it.

Skeets had been so light when I was leading her across the bridge, and was so tuned into me, I thought I'd give liberty work a try. I threw the rein over her neck and walked on. I expected, with so much activity from the hikers and all of the lush green grass growing up on both sides of the trail, plus Washoe and Alloy behind us, that she'd only be "with me" a few steps before I'd have to take her lead rope and physically lead her along the trail.

Once again, she surprised me. She stayed at my shoulder completely at liberty the entire walk up to the hitch rail. There were just a couple of times when I touched the rein to re-direct her, and once I had to lead her across a trickle of water, but otherwise I left her completely alone. She stayed hooked on and with me the entire time.

My new favorite picture of the two of us.

I know I'm completely anthropomorphizing this, but I swear she does better when she feels like we're equal partners instead of me telling her what to do. She stayed with me because she wanted to, not because I was making her. (Though I could have, and would have, made her stay if necessary.)

We made it to the hitch rail and completed our top secret mission. All three horses were amazing throughout our top secret mission and a half hour or so later, we all mounted up for the ride out.

If the horses were great on the way in, they were dang near perfect on the way out. I kept exclaiming to Mom and Bill, "I have a TRAIL horse. And honest-to-God trail horse!". It's one thing to ride across the street in Roosevelt National Forest, but that's basically our back yard. Skeeter's been on those trails quite often - sometimes successfully, sometimes not - but the Wild Basin trail we rode was completely brand new to her and she loved it.

I kind of hate to think of it as a training test, but it was. I expected to have to lead her to our destination by necessity, not by choice. Instead she far surpassed any expectation I had of her. In retrospect, coming off of her three weeks ago did wonders for my confidence as weird as that seems. The fact that she stopped dead when I fell instead of panicking and stepping on me, or going over the edge of the trail again helped me get over any trust issues I had with her. Though I'd been told that she was taking care of me, I didn't quite believe it until then.

And just because the ride was beautiful, here are some gratuitous pictures:

Mom and Bill's Christmas Card Surprise

We have Mom and Bill's herd for a few days, and since we were going to take Christmas pictures with our horses, how hard could it be to do Christmas pictures with theirs?

Washoe the Wonder Idiot and Jesse were angels - they were easily caught and willing to play dress-up without a problem. Ranger Danger, on the other hand, well ... let's just say I got a lot of exercise trying to catch him. I might have given up a time or two, but there was no way I was going to get Christmas pictures of only two of their horses. If I couldn't get all three, then I wasn't going to do it. And, by God, Mom was going to get her Christmas pictures, so Ranger and I had to come to an understanding.

Eventually, he deigned to be caught and was a perfect gentleman for his 30 seconds of fame. Jerk.

I didn't know what to do with the pictures once we took them, so I decided that I'd make Mom and Bill some Christmas cards to send out. Now, this is risky, because I don't know if Mom has already sent out her cards. Just to be on the safe side, I didn't put the year on the cards in case she needs to hold them until next year. How's that for thinking?

Mom's herd wasn't super excited about having to play dress-up and pose for me. They do great for Mom and Bill, but I'm not really their human. There was no getting happy ears from them for the pictures. They stood nicely like I asked them to, but that was the extent of their cooperation. It was like taking pictures of sullen teenagers. But the pictures are done, and Mom's going to love this surprise, dammit.

Clockwise: Reba, Washoe, Ranger, Jesse, Humans

Skeeter Had Her First Ride

I haven't said much about it, because I wanted to have the video ready and just haven't had time to mess with it.  Finally, I was able to sit down long enough to put it together.

Last week, Mom and Bill were down again to work with the horses.  I was supposed to meet them at the house after a funeral, but the funeral/graveside service ran long and they had more time to play than I did.  While I was on my way home from the cemetery, Bill slung a leg over Skeets and she moved off.  His options were to fall or slide on over, so he slid on.  Since he hadn't planned on an actual ride, he just had the halter and lead rope on, but didn't have the lead rope tied around as reins.

Skeeter wasn't so sure what to do, so she tried backing out from under him.  She didn't panic, just tried backing up.  After a few minutes, Bill had Mom tie the lead rope around and they started working on getting her feet moving.



It was just a few minutes, but she moved with purpose, under direction, so that counts as a ride.  God willing, I'll get my first ride on her this week.

Skeeter's Turn

In addition to Skeeter getting a brother yesterday, she got to play with Grandpa Bill.  While we were messing around with Copper, Bill gleefully played with Skeeter.

I did do some Skeeter torture myself before Copper came, but I'm not nearly as evil as Bill.  All I did was rub her all over with the pool noodle and balance it on her back.

Bill, though, is truly an evil genius.  He saw the pool noodle on the ground and got an insane idea to just tie it around her neck.  Why would he even think about that?

It bothered her not one iota.

For the record, I told her not to let Bill do shit to her (way back when he hung the dog toy from her ear), that she'd regret it, but did she listen to me?  Nooooo.  What do I know?

He also decided it was time to start feeling her out for how she would do with weight on her back.  He has put pressure on her in the past and I've followed his lead, but I haven't yet thrown my body weight at her.  Our improvised mounting block is a black feed tub turned upside down, which makes it a bit too tall, but that's better than too short.

Side saddle (sort of)

Dead Indian

Skeeter handled it with her usual ho-hum attitude.  We're going to have to try it soon, I suppose :)

Father's Day Ride

Last Sunday, we had a great ride and I have a ton of amazing pictures, that I'll get posted but since today is Father's Day, I thought I'd skip ahead.

We (the entire family) planned on a Father's Day dinner with Bill, but I wanted to get up early and go for a ride.  Mom had planned on letting Bill sneak out of work to go for a ride, as it's Kyzzer's weekend to work at the Lodge.  My youngest, Monster, also volunteered to help out so that Papa Bill could go for a ride before everyone else got there.

Digger decided that he wanted to go for a ride, too, so we grabbed Ranger Danger, Washoe the Wonder Idiot, and Her Highness, Queen Estes.

In honor of the day, this is a Bill and Ranger picture day.  I'll share the rest of the ride pictures at a later date.

Peek-A-Boo!

Look!  They match :)

Awww, look at all the purdy flurs

It's kind of pollen-y out.

Gratuitous ear picture.

More ear cam.

Just one more.  Can't have enough Ranger ear cam pics.

Bill managed his fancy dismount without kicking Ranger in the head.

Million Dollar Idea Unveiled!

Alternatively titled: How to Potentially Kill Yourself and Your Horse

A while back, Mrs Mom made a "Trail Riders' Mounting Strap" for people who need a little extra help mounting while out on the trail.

I saw that and thought it would be cool if I could use something similar to mount while bareback, so I thought and thought and ran it by Bill and Mom.  My thought was that if I had something long enough, I could have Estes step on it, drape it across her back and use the loop to just step up.

Bill and I tried it with a tow strap, figured out how long we'd need it and I sent off my idea to Mrs Mom.

My Million Dollar Idea came in last week, but I wasn't able to get up to the lodge to play with it, so I told Mom and Bill to give it ago.

Being the good bloggers they are, the remembered to take video.  Bill and Ranger went first...
It might have worked better if Ranger wasn't so ornery.  After the first time, you can see him wait until Bill's ready and then he deliberately steps off the strap.  I love that horse :)


So Bill decided to out-smart him and tie the strap around his leg. 


After Bill had success, Mom and Washoe gave it a go.  They started with the strap under the hoof, too, but Washoe was having none of it.


So Mom followed Bill's lead and tied it around Washoe's leg.  Untying the knot looked a whole lot like horse yoga or something.


Yesterday, after I got off work from the Livery, I decided to finally try out my Million Dollar Idea on my own horse.  Knowing Mom and Bill had success, I was ready to go!

I was fairly smug about the fact that I knew Her Highness, Queen Estes would not step off of the strap until I told her to.  All of the hoof soaking we did last year gave me confidence that she'll leave her hooves where I tell her to.  And she did.  She stood like a pro the whole time I tried climbing up.  (And of course Bill didn't get any video of that!  I think he's trying to sabotage me.)

I tried and tried, but couldn't get my arse up. The failure with the strap was me. I don't know if I was just physically exhausted from working or I'm just a dumbass, but I couldn't get it to work out. So I tried the old tie-it-around-her-leg trick that worked for Mom and Bill.

Still a no-go.






I have my suspicions about why it won't work for me, but I'll hold onto those for now until I get a chance to try it again when I'm not so physically wiped out.

Trail Ride in Pictures

Before the Homecoming Queen appeared, Beel and I had a nice ride on the brown(ish) horses.  Took Estes a bit to warm up and stretch out, but we ended up having a nice ride.

First we went down Pinky's Wash...

And then we stopped for a picnic...

I love my detachable reins,
unclip them from the bridle, add to the halter

Ranger was too busy eating to pose

Proof Beel shared his granola bar.

Then we hopped back on, wove through the Aspens, and crossed the creek...

We walked along the creek and headed back home.  But Estes had to be the first place loser and she didn't like it one bit.

Look at those cranky ears.
She's a pissy mare.

It was a really good ride, even she thought so.

Make Like A Boy Scout

...and be prepared!

Mom's accident yesterday drove home the point that you must be prepared for an emergency at any time.  Being prepared doesn't mean just packing a cell phone and first aid kit.

Being prepared means knowing exactly what to do in an emergency.  And that does not necessarily always include calling 9-1-1.  It takes time for emergency responders to get to where you are - IF you have cell service and can direct them to your location.

*RANT* Cell phones have made us more dependent on other people, therefore less independent.  If we get a flat tire, we no longer change it ourselves, we call AAA or someone to come fix it.  If we break down on the side of the road, we don't even bother to see what the problem is, we just call a tow truck.  That kind of thinking - that we can just call for help - has made us helpless.

*stepping off soapbox*

1.  In an emergency, Do. Not. Panic.

2.  Take stock of the situation, make a plan.  It doesn't have to be elaborate, it can be as simple as, "let's take a look at that injury." The plan being to look at the injury and treat it.  The next step would be to figure out how to get out of the back country.  Do you send someone for help and wait for SAR to come find you?  Do you load everyone back up on their horses and ride out?  Have a plan in place, even if it's a half-assed thrown together one.  Having a plan helps keep panic at bay.

3.  Know how to use your first aid kit.  Too many times, people buy one off the shelves, throw it in their saddlebags and never think of it again.  You need to know what is in the kit and how to use everything in it.  Take a first aid course.  Keep current on it.  Most first aid techniques and equipment can be applied to both humans and horses.  If you're human fist aid certified, you will certainly know that if your horse is bleeding, direct pressure will stop the bleeding.

Most professionals will advise you to file a plan with somebody, letting them know exactly where you're going, how long you'll be gone, etc.  It's a great idea.  However, the way we ride - exploring - makes it hard to tell people exactly where we're going.  We do let people know when to expect us back.  If we're not back by that time, send someone a looking.

Thank God Bill was with Mom yesterday.  They had a first aid kit.  He knows what's in it and how to use it.  He's up-to-date on his first aid skills.  They were in a rugged area - no helicopter could have flown in, they had no cell phones with them (why would they, when there's no service), and it would have taken longer to send someone to the trail head, call for help and lead the responders back.  Riding out was the most expedient option.

Had he (or the person they were riding with) panicked, it would have been a whole different ball game.

Goat Trail

I was going to wait to post about the Goat Trail, but Beel managed to get the video uploaded, so I thought I'd share the scariest part of the ride.  Pics will follow when I return.

Willow Tree Trail

On Saturday, Beel Bill and I went for a ride on one of my favorite trails.  We don't ride it often, which makes it a huge treat.  It's what I would consider an "extreme" trail in that there are parts of it that you can't see and you absolutely must trust your horse to pick its footing properly.  This is not a competition trail, with one obstacle then another that you're scored on.  At several points, your horse is picking its way over downed branches and water while you're pushing tree limbs out of the way (or, if you're me, using the Flip camera to protect your face).

This is the same trail that many years ago Estes' daughter Meeker refused to take.  That was the last time I ever attempted to take a dude string along that trail - I had nightmares of what could have happened if the critter hadn't made noise until we were halfway in the willows.  I don't know if Compass' new wranglers even know the trail exists.  We talked about taking it for HCR last year because we knew that everyone could ride; in the end, because Baggins was being such a jerk for Rachel, we bypassed it. (<--- That didn't come out the way I meant it to.  Baggis was being a jerk; I wasn't sure how he'd handle the close quarters.  Has nothing to do with Rachel's riding ability.  She doesn't give herself enough credit in her ability.)

I had my sights set on doing the Willow Tree trail this year and spent the last week working up my courage to do it bareback.  I knew Beel Bill would be up for it - heck, he wants me to do the Goat trail bareback - so off we went.

I'm Late! (In posting, that is)

I didn't get a chance to ride this weekend, which was an absolutely beautiful perfect-for-riding weekend.  Yes, I'm pouting about it.

I did get to ride last weekend, though, and had a great time.  What started out as a quick ride in cold, overcast weather turned out to be a beautiful, two hour ride.

The ground that wasn't snow covered was brown and dead looking, I'm hoping that once the snow melts off we'll start seeing greenery; I'm done with brown and white.  In our previous ride, I had dressed poorly and turned back because the snow was soaking throught my jeans and I was being a wuss.  For this ride, I decided to make the looooooooong trip up the ten stairs to where my duster was stored instead of taking the lazy way out and freezing my butt off.  The decision to dig out the duster was a smart one.  Wearing a duster while riding bareback is a lot like having a heater in a tent, especially since my duster covers all but my toes when I'm mounted.

Bill and I went off roading, enjoying it while we can, and busted through the crusty, wind-swept snow.  In the past, we had limited ourselves to the one-hour loop simply because our forays into the forest had been in inclement weather.  By the time we broke through the tree cover, the sun was out and we could actually see shadows - what a novel experience.

Based on the weather, we decided to continue on to the meadow.  Estes had a serious opinion about going one step farther than the one-hour loop.  This time her opinion did not include a rear.  No, this time she tried something new - speeding up in hopes that I wouldn't turn her away from the trail home.  But, you see, I know something she doesn't know.  She has to go where her nose is pointed and I had control of her nose.  I even told her, "go ahead Little Missy, speed up, we're still going where I want to go."

She tried the speed up into the turn thing at two different intersections before she gave up.  I won.  Twice.  Can't blame her for trying though, we have only done the one-hour loop since she's been home.

Bill and I rode around the brown meadow and headed toward Cody's trail (formerly known as the Trench Trail).  Knowing that the snow drifts often cover Cody's trail until mid-May, we turned away from it and cut up through the Aspen grove.  It was beautiful and by that time Estes had realized that we were out for a ride, not just a quick little jaunt around the top of the hill.

We did eventually have to turn back to home, at which time both Estes and Ranger found some energy.  Since Estes wanted to go back at a trot, I allowed her to move up into it, but didn't allow her to slow down when she wanted to.  There were a couple of times when I really had to work to keep her in the trot, but she wasn't going to get to choose when and where she wanted to trot - something she didn't really agree with, but was working too hard trotting up the hills to argue too much.  You know, a tired horse is a good horse.

While I had so much time at the trot, I decided to see if I could post bareback.  After all, if I could post in a dressage saddle without stirrups, I certainly should have been able to post bareback.  Holy Moley!  That is tough!  I managed to post for a couple hundred yards before my legs were on fire.  I did it a couple of times, kind of like doing intervals while running, before my legs absolutely gave out.  It was a good thing we were already headed home because I was one wiped-out little girl.

I wish one of us had thought to take a camera with us, but we thought we'd be out a half hour or so in crappy weather, not two hours in beautiful weather.

Next time I'll remember a camera.

April (Snow) Showers

Sometimes, you just have to get on your horse.  Even if the weather is less than perfect.  Saturday was one of those days.  Nebalee and I made almost eight dozen tamales, and while they were steaming, Bill and I decided to go for a quick ride.  For once, the wind wasn't howling, but it was snowing like crazy.  Not that that's ever stopped us.  Wind?  Yep, that's stopped me once in a while.  Gently falling snow?  Nope.  It was gorgeous.

Bill took a ton of pictures, which I debated on putting up.  You'd never know by looking at the pictures that I've been going to the gym and have lost 16.5#.  So, while I look like the Michelin Man, keep in mind it really is the extra clothes I'm wearing (yoga pants under my jeans, long sleeved shirt, hoodie, coat, etc.).

Yes, it was cold.  But it was beautiful, so of course there's video.  Thirteen years of riding these same trails and they don't get old.  We ended up having to do some off-roading, as the trail itself is buried under too much snow.  If the snow keeps up, I'm not sure that even the one-hour loop will be ready for the livery to open in May.  I think Compass' permit runs from May 15 to October 15, but the trails have to be completely clear for her to take rides out.  "Private" horses are allowed off trail, but "professional" (livery) rides must never deviate from the marked trail if the livery wants to keep their permit, that includes stepping off the trail just long enough to go around a snow drift.

I am, however, unbelievably thankful for the amount of moisture we've gotten in the high country, as wildfire terrifies me.

Ride of the Week: Fall Round-up

Bill from It's A Horse Life joins us again for another ROTW.

Fall Round-up

It was a cold and fairly miserable October day, and I had gotten roped into going on a cattle hunt for a ranch that a couple of my friends were working at. "Come on!" said

both Ham and Gary. "It'll be fun!" So we rode out into the national forest looking for fifteen or twenty lost head.



Ham and Gary were well mounted on their personal horses, but I was on one of the horses that the "livery" branch of the ranch owned and rented out in their dude string. "Oreo" was a ten or twelve year old black and white pinto, and not a complete waste of hay, but wouldn't have been my first choice of a ride. After four or five hours of cross country riding in the rugged mountains looking for cattle, I was getting pretty tired of my borrowed horse and saddle, and was all too willing to stop when one of the guys suggested a break.



We dismounted and I tied up my mount. Ham and Gary both KNEW that their horses would stand "ground tied", so they just got off and just left their horses to graze on their own.



Now, any of you that have spent much time in the Colorado Rockies may know that the grazing is sparse, at best, in the high country (which is why the cattle were so hard to find) and a little traveling may be necessary to find grass. The two ground tied horses looked at one another and said, "Forget this, there is HAY back at the ranch". While we stood in the freezing wind, we all watched the two horses wheel and head down the trail at a ground eating long trot. Umm, crap.



"See you later, boys!" and I untied my horse and took off in hot pursuit. Okay- maybe not so hot. I was still freezing my pommel off.



The trails in the high country are often old game trails that have been "improved" for use by the public. Their path isn't determined by the views, or the shortest distance to the destination. The trails are placed not so much by where you WANT to go, as where you CAN go. Cliffs, steep hillsides, rock outcroppings, heavy brush and dead-fall timber all conspire to keep you on the trail, and keep the trails narrow. Narrow as in "one lane, no passing, you can't get around me, alrighty then let's REALLY RUN home" narrow.



After a few miles of trying to "head 'em off at the pass", I finally got in front of the runaways. They stopped and looked at me like I was some kind of jerk, trying to ruin their day, and I discovered my next problem. As the horses had been standing "ground tied", their reins were left down on the ground, and as they were SO GOOD at standing ground tied, neither were wearing lead ropes or halters. After their aborted bid to make it an an early day, they had about three-fourths of a rein between them, the rest having been pulled out of their bits by their feet (man, that musta hurt).



Leading a horse in heavy woods can be a challenge. Ponying a horse by its mouth rather than a halter can be a challenge. Guiding a horse that is still excited from a bid for freedom can be a challenge. Taking a horse for a walk beside your horse, because your lead is too short to let it walk behind you can be a challenge. Leading a horse AWAY from home, when he has already decided that it was time TO GO home can be a challenge If you add all these together, and multiply it by two horses, it gets really tough. The sky was gray, overcast and snowy, but the air near me was blue. I'm sure that if the horses or any cute little woodland animals nearby could understand English, they would have been thinking "Nope, that’s just not anatomically possible." The Ham and Gary heard me coming nearly twenty minutes before I finally got back. They had started a campfire, and were getting prepaired to settle in for the night. They seemed glad to see me, certainly happier than the horses were to be back where they started from.



We had found where the cattle had gone down a steep canyon to get down to water just before the great escape, but now were losing daylight fast, and were out of time. I had stopped and picked up the pieces of reins I spotted on my way back, so we cobbled together enough "steering" for the trip home, and called it a day.



I was busy at the lodge, and couldn't make the trip the next day. They found the cattle right where we thought they were, and brought them back without incident. I'm willing to bet they never got off their horses that day.



Bill

Graduation Day Ride

Warning: Media heavy post (videos and slideshow)

Last week, Mom graduated with her Associate degree - most of you know that.  Probably what you didn't know, is that rather than spending the day getting all gussied up for the ceremony, we did what any good horse lover does - we went riding!

Now, normally, I'm a picture-taking freak, but for some reason, I took very few pictures of this ride.  Wait - I remember why - because Estee and I were riding point.  We have good reason to believe that a moose has moved into the area.  Why do we think so?  Because the "elk" dropping are about ten times their normal size.  And they are everywhere.  Estee is a good girl who trusts her rider.  Ida saw to that and never abused the privilege (not to say that Mom and Bill have abused the privilege, but Mustangs tend to be a little bit more self-reliant), so when Jesse and Ranger weren't too thrilled about taking point, we did.  I'm thinking that probably none of the horses have ever seen a moose up close and there will be one hell of a rodeo when they do see one, but I'm excited.  I've never seen a real-live moose.

So when we went along the trench trail, I was extra vigilant and not taking pictures.  Riding up above the trench trail (which has also been taken off of the dude trail map due to erosion) is a tricky thing, as it's a very steep slope that we walk along.  I should have taken pictures, but I didn't, I was busy being on the look-out for the moose.

With all of the late season snow and run-off, I wanted to go up to the pond and see if we could hear the frogs sing.  The frogs only sing for a couple of weeks out of the wettest seasons, so it's a real treat to hear.  If you turn up the volume really loud, you'll be able to hear the frogs going to town with their singing.  I just love it; it's such a soothing sound to me.






Sorry, the sound quality's lousy, but I was using my point-and-shoot camera rather than my Flip.

Feeling almost as contented as the ride the day before, we headed back, this time with Bill in the lead.  Unless we wanted to backtrack and ride alongside the trench trail again, we had to head home over Pinky's Wash.  I call it Pinky's Wash because way, way, way back when I was a wrangler wanna-be, one of the wranglers named Pinky took me out for a wrangler ride.  It was fabulous; we rode hard and carelessly and made it out alive.  During one portion of the ride, we went down what I would consider a "wash", not a trail.  Pinky assured me it was a trail.  There are some pictures of it in the slideshow, only we're going up the wash, not down it.  I've been down it a couple of times and it never ceases to pucker me right up.  Up is okay; down is not.

As usual, I'm having issues with Blogger's picture function, so here's yet another slideshow for your viewing pleasure.

It's almost June!  Don't forget about the High Country Rendezvous!
Click on the tab at the top of my page for information - we're going to have a blast!