For the past ten days I've been laid low with a nasty respiratory flu, but by God I was determined to go on this trail ride if it killed me! Being sick also meant I hadn't ridden the horse in over 10 days as well! Hm. What could possibly go wrong??
I awoke Saturday feeling weak and dizzy and headachey and congested. Maybe a protein-filled breakfast would help. No, it didn't. Well, I figured I'd at least go to the barn and get the horse, who spent the night out in the pasture instead of in his stall. My theory is that Quzqo doesn't sleep well outside, so he'd be tired out ahead of time. Makes sense, right? Right?
IF I felt good enough to do that, I'd at least brush him...and if I could, tack him up. IF I managed to be able to lift the saddle, I'd at least sit on him in the indoor arena...if I was too dizzy to keep my balance, I'd go home.
There wasn't much of a gang at the barn yet...a couple of families were camping out in the south pasture, and the barn provided breakfast (for a price). I dragged my horse in from the field and gave him breakfast, and I dozed in the tack room with a bridle on my lap so I'd look like I was doing something and not sleeping.
Yeah, this sounds like someone ready to go on a 3 hour trail ride, doesn't it??
Things began picking up around the barn...boarders began arriving to get their horses ready, people bringing their critters in from the fields. A quick look out the door revealed quite a few trailers had pulled up, and strange horses being tacked up. Hey, looks like this thing might take off after all!
Quzqo finished his breakfast and I got him tacked up, surprising myself with how easily I was able to lift my heavy trail saddle up on his back. I must be stronger than I feel! One thing I've learned with age is that falling off a horse hurts, so I pulled out all the stops; western trail saddle, breast collar, shanked curb bit. No more trying to impress people by riding with the bitless bridle or in an English saddle! I couldn't find my red ribbon for Quzqo's tail (yes, he's a kicker), but we found some hot pink construction ribbon that I used instead. It got the message across I'm sure.
By that time the indoor arena was full of people warming up, getting to know their horses (the barn was also renting out horses for those who didn't have an extra). I was able to get up on Quzqo without issue, and I felt a little light-headed, but my bear-trap of a saddle kept me upright whether I wanted to or not.
Blearily and fuzzily we made our way outside and congregated in the yard where others were getting ready. The ride was already 15 minutes behind schedule, having been slated to leave at 10 a.m. Par for the course. The horses were already acting up, picking up on each other's nervousness and that of their riders. I didn't feel particularly nervous, feeling more like puking and taking a nap at the same time. It's kind of nice riding while ill...there's sort of a sedating effect, any anxiety nullified by a pleasant buzzing in the ears.
It was a beautiful day though...blue sky, sunny, cool, but not cold. Occasionally a horse would kick at a neighbor, a novice rider would burst out in tears of fear as her loaner horse would begin backing up and for some reason the fact the rider was cranking on a curb bit wouldn't make it stop. Eventually I gave up offering riding advice, they didn't listen. Fine, pull those reins tight as a guitar string, maybe you'll be able to back that horse all the way around the trail. Keep those heels up and hunch forward, there you go! Have a good ride!
A lot of familiar faces showed up, friends and acquaintances, past boarders and riding buddies. Many asked how my leg was doing. Just fine, thank you, doesn't hurt at all any more. Quite a few remembered my disastrous accident when I was chased by dirt bikes, and had to keep reminding me of it. Since I still have amnesia from that, well, I guess somebody has to remind me.
Bob, the barn owner, came around the building astride a big Belgian mare! Oddly, he didn't look ridiculous, even when he rode near his little grand daughter who was riding the infamous Shetland Pony, "RolyPolyOly".
Two of my friends were taking their green horses out on their very first group trail ride, and were understandably nervous. C'mon, what could happen? Look at the size of the group here, they'll be FINE!
We all headed off, Quzqo and I were near the end...I'm beginning to realize that's maybe NOT the best thing to do...but more on that later. Reportedly there were 38 riders, which, I think, is a record for ME at any rate! It made quite an impressive sight...all sorts of horses from Quarter Horses to Paints, Appaloosas, Tennessee Walking Horses, ponies, the afore-mentioned Belgian, even another Arabian!
Heading out across the hay fieldsThe first mile or so went well. Quzqo was surprisingly well-behaved, with none of the usual Drama-Queen antics at the property line where I used to be treated to rearing and spinning...actually, another horse performed that duty, right at the same spot. A little bay mare ridden by an experienced teen girl, she (the mare) stopped, balked, started backing up, gave a little half-rear, and was 30 feet into the hayfield back to the barn before the girl got her back in the right direction. Gee, that looked awfully familiar *cough*Quzqo*cough*. But this time he was fine, didn't even shy at the tractor tire on the roadside, or the satellite dish he usually spooks at. Too busy trying to keep up with the 30+ horses in front of him!
For some reason everyone stopped after a bit, I think it was for tack adjustments, as a few folks dismounted... Quzqo took the opportunity to pee. The little bay mare started acting up again, backing up and swinging her rear all over the place. The girl couldn't stop her or turn her, and the mare backed right into my friend's young Quarter Horse (who had only been out on the trails once before in his young 4 year old life)...the mare suddenly began kicking poor "Charlie", giving him three rapid-fire double-barrel kicks to the left haunch! His rider couldn't get him to move his massive QH Butt out of the way fast enough, and she got one of the kicks to her ankle!
Bob swapped horses with the girl, and he rode the little bay mare the rest of the way. She appeared to be behaving with him on board...ya think? I don't think the gal was thrilled having to ride a Belgian, but at least she (the Belgian) wasn't prone to rearing, spinning, or backing down the trail!
"Charlie" didn't seem to have suffered any injury, he wasn't limping, there wasn't any swelling or edema. I think it's because the mare was so close, she couldn't build up any velocity. Having been shoved into the rump of a TWH years ago, and getting kicked in the back with both hind legs, I can attest that it doesn't really hurt that much when you're that close.
The bad thing about riding with a massive group of riders, is that you can't really do much more than walk. We got to the stretch of dirt road where Quzqo and I traditionally trot, canter, and gallop, because it's long, flat and straight. Can't do that with dozens of horses in front of you. So we walked.
Into the deep woods down the two-track. Most of the column made the turn onto the Shore-To-Shore trail, and as we were approaching the turnoff, a familiar sound came echoing through the trees.
Dirt bikes.
I've got an aversion to dirt bikes. Even if I see them being hauled on a trailer down the road, I make the sign of the Evil Eye in their direction. And here came no less than four of them down the two track! Thankfully they were going slowly, and there's an advantage to riding a white horse, they saw us right away and stopped. We waved and moved off the road into the trees before they continued on. Bob and a few others were about 100 yards behind us...hope that little bay mare liked dirt bikes!
The four or five riders in my group eventually lost the others, because some horses walk faster than others, some horses stop to pee, some didn't want to cross the bridge and had to be led across. Once we were away from the others the horses calmed down and walked/jogged nicely. Quzqo was very agitated, and was constantly tossing his head in frustration. It wasn't the bit bothering him, he was just getting himself fired up and had to express it somehow. I noticed he was the only horse darkened with sweat, and not from any exertion. I lost count of the times he flipped his reins up over his head, leaving me with either both reins on one side, or else a rein flopped between his ears. Eventually I managed to tie the reins together below his neck with some baling twine in a makeshift German martingale...didn't stop the head-tossing, but kept the reins where they were supposed to be.
I notice he only does that constant head-tossing on group trail rides. Hm. File that little nugget of information away for later.
After 90 minutes a pattern had developed...Quzqo became a high-strung needy insecure herd-bound tailgater, and any attempt by me to slow down his frantic walking-jogging to keep up was met with head-tossing, side-stepping, tail-wringing and grunting. The worst parts were when the horses maybe 10 ahead of us would begin to canter up a hill, which of course triggered a near-stampede by the other horses, and plenty of curses from their riders who didn't WANT to canter uncontrollably through the woods. My friends on the green horses were about ready to head home, they were getting so stressed out, as their horses would give little bucks or side-steps or back into trees, getting so worked up themselves. Thankfully I had the shanked curb in Quzqo's mouth, or it would have been Katie-bar-the-door-good-bye-Sue (gee, just like last Fall!).
Instead of being able to bolt after the other horses, Quzqo either backed into trees, or side-passed up, or down the hills, depending. We came to a VERY steep hill, that Quzqo has been down a few times before. But this time, since the horses ahead of us were fast disappearing into the trees, he became frighteningly upset, and when he wasn't trotting in place on the hillside, he was side-passing down the side of the trail in the underbrush, tail cranking, head tossing, grunting away. I felt bad for the boy, he was obviously scared. I know it was the fact I was sick, but I felt rather distant from all of it, almost an observer. I suppose I'd snap back to reality if he started falling down the hill with me under him. Luckily that didn't happen.
We came to our nemesis, the Mud Pit on the trail, a 3 foot wide mud bog smack dab in the pathway. Over the years people had tossed branches into it to make some sort of half-assed bridge, but that obviously didn't work, and now it's about 6" of hoof-sucking black goo. Quzqo HATES that bit, and if I were by myself, there would be no way to get him across it. One benefit to riding with a group; without a moment's hesitation, he bunched up his hindquarters and FLEW across that muck!
My friend, Sandy, had to dismount and lead her young Quarter Horse, Spike...between calling to me to wait up, she kept warning Spike not to run her over. Meanwhile I've got a tap-dancing Arabian doing his best to side-pass up a trail too narrow for a horse to fit through side-ways.
Further up the trail we were surprised by a deer busting through the underbrush. Quzqo jammed on the brakes and spun 180 degrees, catching me totally by surprise! I didn't lose a stirrup, but almost lost my shoe! Now if I'd have put his rhythm beads on him the jingling would have warned the deer off before we got near it... no, I didn't think to put his rhythm beads on. Figures.
Since the point of the ride was a Poker Run, Bob's daughter met us at various roadsides with playing cards and handed them out to each rider, and at the end we'd show our poker hands, whoever had the best cards would win the cash jackpot. My biggest challenge was getting the horse close enough to the SCARY WOMAN WITH PLAYING CARDS in order to draw one!
Once we left the hilly terrain behind, things did calm down. No longer could people go galloping up hills, freaking out the horses (and riders) behind them. I won't say we were able to relax, but Quzqo could at least lower his head and quit tossing it for a while, and I think I got a glimpse of the surrounding landscape and even got a chance to take a couple of photos!
Even Quzqo's ears look annoyed in this photo!
My friends on their Greenies, bringing up the rear.
We eventually made it to the trail camp where most people decided they needed a potty break. Well, there are outhouses after all. Even if I wanted to stop, Quzqo wouldn't have any of it, and he kept going, refusing to stand still and wait more than a few seconds. My friends and I decided we didn't need a break, since we were maybe 40 minutes from the barn. They wanted to get back and get off their stressed out Quarter Horses, and I seriously had had enough of dealing with my Drama Queen and his herd-obsessed antics.
We left the main group back at the outhouses, and headed out of the campground. Of course, away from the herd, Quzqo adopted his Don Knotts personality and began spooking at cars/people/tents/signs/pumps/stumps... I'd had enough and he earned either spurs to his sides or a smack in the butt with the end of the reins to get him past his self-indulgent spooking fits. We got back onto the campground road, a few other riders were also going on ahead, and I saw them leaving the road and heading up into the little narrow trail that'll lead through a forest for at least an hours' worth of windy hill trails. Which would mean at least another hour's worth of Quzqo antics.
No thanks.
I pointed Quzqo down the dirt road, he wanted to spook at some fishermen, I spurred him past them (I don't enjoy him trotting in place sideways on a narrow dirt road with a lake on one side and a steep drop-0ff into a swamp on the other), got him trotting, and gave him his head. We flew past the other riders and disappeared over the hill down the dirt road.
He FLEW! He stretched those legs and his neck and pistoned down the road, I stood in the stirrups, gasping for air with my congested lungs, and feeling like a ton of lead weights had been lifted from both our shoulders! I just let him run, and run he did! A quick glance behind, nobody at all. Slowing him to a walk so we could descend a steep hill, it felt like cool refreshing water...a calm and peace I hadn't felt all day washed over me. The horse let out a mighty sigh.
A truck passed us, Quzqo didn't care. Once the truck was gone, I got him into a canter, and we cantered happily down the road until I couldn't breathe, then we trotted the rest of the way.
We took the roads back to the barn, a route Quzqo has travelled many a time. Not as pretty as the woods, but by that time I couldn't keep track of all the body parts that were in pain and only wanted to get back to the barn! I felt bad for the horse too...due to all the walking we had to do, our normal 3-hour ride was approaching 4 hours!
Needless to say we were the first ones to return to the barn. Alas, no prizes were given for that (not that it'd be fair since we took a short cut). The horse was a sweaty mess, I was a sweaty mess, and I was damned glad it was over with!
My friends with the Greenies also took the same short-cut we did, and got back to the barn maybe 20 minutes after I did. A couple other riders came in shortly thereafter, cantering down the road back to the barn. I think the rest of the riders came in maybe 45 minutes after me. By that time Quzqo had been hosed off and turned out to pasture, where he TORE off, glad to be rid of me no doubt!
Well, my poker hand ended up being a pair of 2's, a pair of 6's and a king, but not good enough to even get 4th place. Some boy ended up with 3 Aces and won $59, which he spent at the tack auction that evening on a longhorn steer skull. There's a moral to that story somewhere I'm sure, but heck if I know what it is.
So, what did we learn. Don't go out in large groups if you want a relaxing trail ride. Put bells on your horse to warn wildlife. Buy a German Martingale. Monkey Butt Powder does work, but not on the parts you don't apply it to. Don't ride angry.
But as I like to say, any ride that doesn't involve a phone call to 911 is a good ride! And you know I'll do it again in a heartbeat.
We left the main group back at the outhouses, and headed out of the campground. Of course, away from the herd, Quzqo adopted his Don Knotts personality and began spooking at cars/people/tents/signs/pumps/stumps... I'd had enough and he earned either spurs to his sides or a smack in the butt with the end of the reins to get him past his self-indulgent spooking fits. We got back onto the campground road, a few other riders were also going on ahead, and I saw them leaving the road and heading up into the little narrow trail that'll lead through a forest for at least an hours' worth of windy hill trails. Which would mean at least another hour's worth of Quzqo antics.
No thanks.
I pointed Quzqo down the dirt road, he wanted to spook at some fishermen, I spurred him past them (I don't enjoy him trotting in place sideways on a narrow dirt road with a lake on one side and a steep drop-0ff into a swamp on the other), got him trotting, and gave him his head. We flew past the other riders and disappeared over the hill down the dirt road.
He FLEW! He stretched those legs and his neck and pistoned down the road, I stood in the stirrups, gasping for air with my congested lungs, and feeling like a ton of lead weights had been lifted from both our shoulders! I just let him run, and run he did! A quick glance behind, nobody at all. Slowing him to a walk so we could descend a steep hill, it felt like cool refreshing water...a calm and peace I hadn't felt all day washed over me. The horse let out a mighty sigh.
A truck passed us, Quzqo didn't care. Once the truck was gone, I got him into a canter, and we cantered happily down the road until I couldn't breathe, then we trotted the rest of the way.
We took the roads back to the barn, a route Quzqo has travelled many a time. Not as pretty as the woods, but by that time I couldn't keep track of all the body parts that were in pain and only wanted to get back to the barn! I felt bad for the horse too...due to all the walking we had to do, our normal 3-hour ride was approaching 4 hours!
Needless to say we were the first ones to return to the barn. Alas, no prizes were given for that (not that it'd be fair since we took a short cut). The horse was a sweaty mess, I was a sweaty mess, and I was damned glad it was over with!
My friends with the Greenies also took the same short-cut we did, and got back to the barn maybe 20 minutes after I did. A couple other riders came in shortly thereafter, cantering down the road back to the barn. I think the rest of the riders came in maybe 45 minutes after me. By that time Quzqo had been hosed off and turned out to pasture, where he TORE off, glad to be rid of me no doubt!
Well, my poker hand ended up being a pair of 2's, a pair of 6's and a king, but not good enough to even get 4th place. Some boy ended up with 3 Aces and won $59, which he spent at the tack auction that evening on a longhorn steer skull. There's a moral to that story somewhere I'm sure, but heck if I know what it is.
So, what did we learn. Don't go out in large groups if you want a relaxing trail ride. Put bells on your horse to warn wildlife. Buy a German Martingale. Monkey Butt Powder does work, but not on the parts you don't apply it to. Don't ride angry.
But as I like to say, any ride that doesn't involve a phone call to 911 is a good ride! And you know I'll do it again in a heartbeat.
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