Elbe Hills Challenge: The ride

Ten miles is not very far. In terms of endurance, 10 miles is barely a conditioning ride. Heather and I will do 10 miles of road riding on a Sunday morning and barely blink an eye.

But note to self: 10 miles of flat road is not like 10 miles of Elbe Hills.

I knew this on some level. I did the LD at Elbe last year, and it was a hair-raising, white-knuckle, all-out RACE over some very gnarly trails. And even at that speed Laura and I barely completed in time. That memory is what led me to recommend to Heather that we might not want to take our not-very-fit, new-to-endurance horses into Elbe with a competition mindset. Also, we might not want to do 25 yet.

Good thing! This was our approximate route for the 10-mile Elbe Hills Challenge trail ride:

This is the simplified version. Add in about a zillion more squiggles for a more realistic experience.

 

Another rider likened the course to slalom skiing on horseback, and I have to agree. I didn't bring a camera on the trail. I don't know why not. It would have been good to get some pictures of the terrifying single-track switchbacks up a sheer mountainside. The perfectly clear view of Mt. Rainier was pretty incredible, too.

We had very few horse incidents to speak of, in spite of the difficulty of the trails. Both horses found one particular log too suspicious to go by (even with aggressive persuasion), so I got down and walked Blue past it as Bunny worried along behind with Heather still aboard. Blue also had a few moments of wanting to turn tail for camp, but he was so disoriented that he kept getting himself pointed in the exactly wrong compass direction. Hopefully he will learn that, in endurance riding, the way back to camp is always FORWARD.

The only other little hiccup was a water crossing. Bunny is so sensible these days that it is easy to forget that her first week at Heather's she wasn't 100 percent sure that grass was a safe surface. Fraser Downs was her entire world before this, and I don't think there are a lot of rocky creek crossings on the track. Blue and I chugged across it, and Heather ended up leading Bunny across after all other ideas failed. Anyway, she made it. 

Once we were back down on level ground, Blue recognized the trail and picked up speed. Like, a lot of speed. We zoomed through the smooth dirt trails back toward camp, but pulled up short at an odd sight: Two saddle pads were laying beside the trail not far apart. One was a Skito, heavy with sweat, and the other was another expensive brand—a Gaston Mercier maybe? We debated picking them up, but in the end decided we didn't need the extra bulk on board, and anyway, someone may have left them there to switch out later. We didn't want anyone to think that we stole them.

The last quarter mile into camp, Blue was very upset by the sound of horses calling through the trees. He couldn't see them, but they sounded very close. He clearly didn't know what to make of it. Suddenly, the forest cleared, and there was Heather's mom with the camera—we survived the hardest 10 miles I've ever ridden!

Funny thing: When we got back to camp there was no vet there waiting for us. Nor an in-timer. Nor any "official" Elbe Hills volunteers. The staging area was completely deserted except for Dean Hoalst, who had taken a rider option early in the 50 and was waiting for someone to check his horse. We all got to wait a good long while...

 

[Stay tuned for our exciting conclusion...]

Elbe Hills Challenge: Saturday morning

hrung... hrunggg... HRUNNNGGBRRRRRRRMMMMMMGGGGGG!!!! 

 

That is the sound of the generators starting up. I don't know why I bother with an alarm clock, especially at forested rides where the roar echoes through the clearing like a herd of dinosaurs at 5 a.m.

Heather, Laurie and I were all on our feet and under way soon after. There were people and animals to feed, nerves to calm, stretches to be done. Laurie is already getting a reputation for being a late starter, so I should have been watching the clock for her. It was 5:35, and Otto still wasn't tacked. At 6, Laurie hoisted herself in the saddle, then jumped down to make a few last-minute tack adjustments, and then, with our urging, actually mounted up and headed down to the (by then deserted) starting line. After mild bucking and rearing shenanigans, Otto was persuaded to start the ride. They were about 10 minutes behind the last horse. We would not see them again for eight hours.

Back to the campsite to start our own days. For me, being up as early as I was meant that I could take a leisurely approach to wrapping Blue's bad foot and tacking up. Heather had a baby to feed, so her routine was somewhat more hurried, I suppose. Frankly at that stage I'm pretty well in the zone. You have to say my name a few times to get my attention.

Laura stopped by with the awful news that Kcee had likely popped a splint in her front left and wouldn't be competing in the LD, or anything else for a while. Laura was of course devastated, especially given her amazing showing at another tough mountain ride: Renegade Rendezvous.

I took Blue down to watch the start of the LD. It was a bit of an anticlimax. There were fewer than 20 riders, and they came to the start in dribs and drabs. There was no cavalry charge, which was what I really wanted Blue to see.

Disappointed at the missed training opportunity, I mounted up, and Heather's mom took pictures. She got lots of us in camp and sort of milling around the start area. It was nice to be riding a horse who didn't consider the starting line his own private rodeo arena. We walked in sensible circles and kept it low-key.

They called the start. We left camp at an easy walk, with all but three other trail riders in front of us.

Elbe Hills Challenge: Friday

The first challenge of the Elbe Hills Challenge was getting there.

Laurie, Otto's new owner, had agreed to haul our horses (and my fat butt) the five-plus hours over White Pass. We got a very late start because of some drama she's having getting her new property fenced. Luckily, Heather, Heather's mom and the baby had hit the road a couple hours before, knowing that they'd make more stops because of the infant—and also because I had warned them about the limited number of campsites. 

Laurie and I got the ponies loaded up shortly after noon and burned rubber toward Yakima. We were still in the greater Prosser-Mabton-Sunnyside metroplex when we got a call from Heather: White Pass was under construction, with one-way traffic and up to two-hour delays. She and her mom had elected to take Chinook Pass instead  (though they were calling us from the base and hadn't actually gotten into the pass yet). Heather just wanted to give us a heads-up so we had time to make an informed decision.

Well, semi-informed anyway. The last time I went through Chinook was 1999 or something, and it was foggy both in reality and in my memory. I couldn't remember if it was trailer-friendly or not. Laurie didn't know either. But on our side is the fact that she has done some commercial hauling and believed that she could take a trailer anywhere she could take a car. We decided it would be better to take a chance on Chinook than to sit with the horses for hours in 100-degree heat at the base of White Pass.

Personally, I think the scenery was worth a few hairpin turns and some long stretches of steep up-and-down. (But then, I wasn't driving.) Also, when we reconnected with the White Pass road near Packwood, we saw a long line of cars backed up down the highway—Yay! We made the right choice!

During the course of this little adventure, I had been studying a state road map and found a seasonal road that went from Packwood to Ashford—a road that might cut 20 miles off our drive. A very nice man at a gas station in Packwood confirmed that the road was indeed paved and trailer-worthy. And we found as we drove it that the scenery was just a bonus. It was basically lined with camping areas the entire way. Gorgeous forest and mountain streams.

We rolled into camp in fading evening light to find the tents already set up at a primo spot right next to the registration table, across the road from the meeting shelter. I have to admit, this location made me a little giddy. Not only that, but our fellow Walla Wallite, Dean Hoalst, was coincidentally in the same area and had arrived not long before us. Team Walla all vetted in together as the last rays of daylight filtered through the trees.

I skipped most of the ride meeting in order to set up my camping accommodations, but I heard it was short and well-run. 

I more or less collapsed onto my air mattress and proceeded to my customary eight hours of tossing and turning prior to a ride. The facts—that we were going only a short distance, we weren't competing, and I didn't have to ride naughty Otto—didn't help my pre-ride nerves as much as you might expect.

Sourpuss

Ok, not just "barn" sour. It would be more accurate to say "whatever we left" sour.

So maybe it isn't an ideal quality in an endurance prospect, but I will tell you this: When we were pointed back toward the trailer, he FLEW!

Thank you, Shana, for capturing this moment.

Winning

There is a very real difference between the horse who wants to go his own way, and the horse who WANTS TO GO HIS OWN WAY.

Otto is the uppercase version. He has his own ideas about where he wants to go and what he wants to do—and he doesn't care if you come along or not. In fact, I think if it were up to him, he'd rather go alone.

Blue is the lowercase version, which I much prefer. If he has one behavioral fault, it is a tendency toward barn-sourness. He isn't particularly concerned about being away from the other horses, but he does want to turn toward home whenever there's an opportunity to do so.

Case in point, Heather and I went for a short ride on Monday night. Bunny again proved her worth by being fearless and unflappable. Blue, on the other hand, had a couple of fits about being taken away from The Pen. 

As we come out of the tree farm, we have the choice of turning right to cross the bridge and go up the hill to home or turning left to go up the hill past the firing range. I gave Blue every possible cue for left, which he interpreted as "speed up and make a sharp right." D'oh!

Bunny, ever the angel, headed left without him. He didn't care what she did. He was making a beeline for the bridge. I pulled him around in a variety of tight circles, backs and spins before I finally got him turned back toward Bunny and the firing range. He was huffy and mad, but I kept my hands light and spurs ready. He went forward begrudgingly at best. If he was a toddler he would have been stomping along with his arms crossed.

Unlike Otto, he never tried a buck or a rear. Yes, he was a butthead, but he was a manageable butthead. 

Later we were trotting downhill in the wheat stubble. I saw there was a deep cut at the bottom (basically an 8-inch-deep hole across our path, semi-obscured by loose straw). I tried to slow Blue down so he would see this hole. His opinion was that perhaps we should go faster. Yes, we got a lovely canter out of the experience, but I didn't care for the attitude, thank you very much.

On the way back, I kept making him turn and do circles away from home. Again, tons of resistance, but no dangerous behavior. Just stubborn and crotchety.

Bunny walked along quietly, basically ignoring his childish antics, as I forced him to turn and weave and pay attention. With Bunny headed toward home, I turned Blue back out in the opposite direction. After a long battle, I got him to take three steps in the "away from home" direction and then halt without spinning. I decided that was enough of a victory, and we again turned toward home and caught up to Little Miss Perfect, who was lolloping along as if none of this nonsense were taking place.

When we got back to the trailer, Heather tied Bunny up and started untacking her. I decided I wanted to make Blue walk away from the trailer before we quit. I needed to be sure that stopping for the night was my decision, not his.

I could almost hear him whine, but moommmmmmmmm, the other horse got to stop!

Another battle of tight turns and backing ensued. He was coming dangerously close to running into one of the cars or my truck, so I relented a tiny bit. I dismounted. I dismounted just long enough to jog him over to the arena. If he thought he was done with working for the night, I was going to prove him wrong, dagnabbit. We did hard arena work for 20 minutes before he decided I was in charge. Circles, serpentines, sliding stops, rollbacks, sidepass, walk, trot, canter, halt, faster, slower, spiral. Had enough yet, Mr. Blue? 

In the end, I WON. With Otto, it felt like I was never winning. With Blue, on Monday, I won.

I know I won on Monday because on Tuesday he was the softest and most responsive he's ever been. He had canter transitions to die for. He wasn't exactly happy to see me, but he was unusually respectful.

So the plan going forward is to work very hard at home until he begs to go somewhere else. It is so crazy, it just might work. We're doing things on my terms, buddy. I AM the boss mare.

PS: We'll be at Elbe. Laurie offered to haul the horses, so my cost is cut nearly in half. For that, it is worth the effort to introduce Blue to life in camp. Thank you, Laurie!

Endurance Ladies

Even if this valley were going to be known as a hotbed of PNER endurance, and perhaps, per capita, it is, the more notable riders here have always been the men.

Ernie, Dean, Bob, and a rotating cast of occasional cowboy riders all hail from the valley and all ride like their shoes are on fire. I think this is a guy thing. I get competitive at rides, but there are limits. Farthest, fastest and best aren't really in my endurance vocabulary... yet.

So it is fun to be part of a slowly forming cadre of relatively low-key female endurance riders. And on Saturday, most of the group went for a nice, slow trail ride at Bennington lake.

Annie and Justin, Laurie and Otto, Heather and Bunny, me and Blue, and Sinwaan's ears. Photo by Shana.

The slowness was necessary for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, Blue's fitness level doesn't even register. He is breathless after only a few minutes of lunge work. Also, this was Bunny's first trip out into the wide world riding with a group.

Bunny was an absolute trouper the entire time. Hurray for Team Sensible! She put up with Otto's occasional bucking grumpiness and Justin's romantic attention with only the minimum of cranky mare ears. Mostly she was the lop-eared lady she always is at home. I'm really happy that Heather decided to get her!

We live in a beautiful place.

Aside from giving us a chance to chat as a group and get to know each other better, the walk also gave us time to talk about our riding plans for the rest of the year.

With Blue's rapid return to soundness, a trail ride at Elbe is again possible. Now the question comes down to money: Is it worth the fuel cost to give Blue the experience of camping and vet checks, or would this money be better spent erasing his medical costs from my credit card? Hmmmm...

I'll give it more thought while I'm riding tonight.

Back in the saddle

You want to know why I love this horse? Here's why: After more than a month of no riding—three weeks of which was 24-hour stall confinement—he wasn't a lunatic. This afternoon, I just got on and rode. No drama.

That's why.