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Updated July 10th, 2002 This story appears in the published book "Community of the Horse" by Bruce Smart (pub 2003)
The lazy, hazy days of a Virginia summer -- a time of rest, relaxation, and taking time for a lovely roll in the dust!
It also is a fine way to end a very successful spring endurance competition season. Our final ride this spring was the famous Old Dominion 50-100 Mile Endurance Ride in the magnificent Shenandoah National Park, and George Washington National Forest on June 8th. We were extremely lucky this year -- Mother Nature shoved aside the miserable 90 degree heat and blessed that weekend with cooler temps and low humidity. Perfect weather for climbing the mountains and enjoying the views from atop the world! We were part of over seventy 50-milers who set off at 6AM to begin the climb up to Skyline Drive that runs along the top of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and then down the other side and across the valley to ford the wide Shenandoah River to the first hold at 12.5 miles.
Itch was full of himself and ready to roll. The controlled start was pleasant, but as soon as they released us a half mile or so down the road onto a mile long gravel trail leading up a long slope into Shenandoah National Park, it was like rush hour with horses jammed nose to tail. There was little chance to pass, but most of the horses weren't planning on slowing down for anything anyway. By the time we crested the top, and crossed of Skyline Drive, the trail opened to a glorious gravel path four horses wide. My pony came into his element then, and took off down the one mile slope like a slalom skier. Nobody can keep up with him when he's cruising downhill. He's absolutely incredible! I sat as quietly as possible, and just let him go.
However, my game plan was to ride the OD only to complete -- not place -- and to use the opportunity to continue learning our respective limitations/strengths/weaknesses. So, when we reached the first hold at the Shenandoah River, 12.5 miles out, I took my time, just making sure Itch had plenty of time to eat, and paid no attention to the riders who came in after me, and left before I did. I'm still spooked by his "running out of gas" in the Foxcatcher Endurance Ride this spring. (Interestingly enough, the other horse at Foxcatcher (that had also sputtered to a stop) that we had joined (with her rider) in hand-walking the 5 miles into the finish -- is now short-listed for the World endurance games in Spain! Doesn't that beat all!)
We left the first hold about 10 minutes past our initial out time (I had been waiting for a friend to arrive, but never noticed she'd already come and gone!), and headed towards the Massanutten Mountain in the George Washington National Forest. The climb up was steep and grueling -- the narrow trail deteriorating as it ascended, finally becoming nothing but shale and rock as it rose high above the valley floor. Itch was happy to tow me up with his tail, striding without hesitation up that rocky incline while I half jogged to keep up with him. I was sweating and breathing heavily by the time we reached the top, but my pony was quite refreshed, happy to carry me at a trot along the crest of the mountain -- or, as much as the difficult trail would allow. It wasn't until we wound our way down to the bottom on the other side that we had the opportunity to move along at any quicker pace.
We reached the second hold in fine style only to find that my friend Kitty (who had volunteered to crew for me) was stuck in a hideous traffic tie-up resulting from a bad accident at the entrance of Shenandoah National Park. A bicyclist had been hit by a car, creating a very nasty scene. The police were re-routing all traffic, and it wasn't until I was in the saddle and ready to leave the hold that Kitty finally arrived. Fortunately, we had dropped off food and electrolytes at each of the holds the night before -- so if the worse case happened, and Kitty failed to show, Itch and I would still have the necessities. Smart thinking!
Kitty finally arrived just two minutes before my out-time. After verifying that she would be meeting me at the next hold, Itch and I left the hold, heading out of the valley and back up the mountain again. We were facing the ungodly rocky pass of the infamous "Little Crease Trail" this time, but I had ridden it with my friend Adrienne a few weeks prior, and knew just how far I could ride before I had to get off and walk with my pony. The heat and humidity was beginning to rise, but the woods were still cool and comfortable, so it was no effort for me to walk behind my pony as the trail ascended.
Sure enough, our plan was perfect, and we actually passed several other horses picking their way through the rocks as they struggled to balance themselves and their riders. My pony strode along, however, with a big, open stride, dragging me along by his tail. I kept thinking that all those weeks of my own walking 4-5 miles a day were really paying off, even though there were times when I knew I would have been unable to keep up without the benefit of my guy's wonderful nice, thick, long tail.
After we had passed several more riders in the saddle, we came upon another rider walking his horse. He wasn't quite as fast as us, so he graciously let us pass, then fell in behind. We struck up a conversation and had a marvelous time chatting. He himself had done some running marathons (I think he mentioned the Marine Corps marathon in DC) however, his mare was already starting to have questionable metabolics, which is why he elected to walk and give her a break. He was grateful for my knowledge of the trail and did his best to keep pace with us, constantly encouraging his little mare to hurry and keep up. She was looking a bit tired and stressed by the horrid rocky stretch, and several times she stopped, unsure where she was supposed to put her feet next. I felt keenly for her -- the trail really was a nightmare. At one point I had turned my head to talk to my companion, not watching the trail as I should, when Itch climbed over a particularly large boulder. As he casually dropped off the other side his tail gave my arm a huge jolt, launching me completely into the air! In surprised shock I scrambled my feet in mid-air over the boulder, trying to land on whatever tiny fractions of ground peeked through the rocks and boulders on the other side. Miraculously, I landed safely, although my life was still flashing in front of my eyes. My left ankle had already turned three times just trying to keep up with Itch, and I was scolding myself to watch the trail like a hawk instead of chatting with the rider behind me, otherwise I was sure to wrench something bad enough to force me back in the saddle for the rest of the ride.
The path finally crested the mountain and the trees opened to give us a spectacular view of the Shenandoah Valley below, and the shimmering Shenandoah River folding back and forth in great looping ribbons of water. (I had planned to carry my camera with me on this stretch, but at the last minute decided against it. In retrospect, I'm still kicking myself because the air was crystal clear --very rare in June in Virginia!! -- the views were to die for!)
The trail then began to wind down the other side of the mountain, still a nightmare of rocks and boulders, but even more narrow than before, hovering on the edge of a cliff that dropped straight down -- far too steep for comfort! Itch never missed a beat, continuing to stride along like he was walking on a flat track. Walking behind him afforded me a unique view, and I watched in awe how his aluminum shoes -- re-enforced with steel wear plates in front and steel set-screws in the heel -- just grabbed and gripped the rocks, never sliding or slipping even a fraction of an inch. However, the rocks were still deadly, and at each twist of his ankle I caught my breath, but it didn't seem to bother him in the least as he just kept on marching down the mountain. I only stopped him once when my companion behind me couldn't get his mare to continue -- him tugging on the reins and trying to encourage her while she stood, uncertain and tired, at the top of a nasty drop between two huge boulders. (I suspected she needed to relieve herself, which she finally did towards the bottom of the trail, in the middle of the path on the rocks. Her eyeballs must have been swimming at that point -- poor dear!). Itch waited patiently without complaint until she scrambled down the rocks, then, at a soft cluck from me, continued onward leading us at a march down the slope.
Silently I gave grateful thanks that my pony was such a wonderful trooper -- so willing and agreeable. This was to be our last ride for the spring, and he was slated for a nice month long vacation afterwards -- a nice break that I was determined he would enjoy to the fullest.
The trail finally joined up with another that would take us down the remaining mountainside to the river. I led my companion to the point where I knew the trail was OK to ride. We mounted and rode down together until we reached the gravel road at the bottom, joining up with some other riders who had preceded us. At that point we separated, leaving he and his mare walking while Itch and I went into a canter heading towards the third hold at McCoy's Ford next to the Shenandoah River. Kitty met me there and held Itch while I sponged him off, waiting for his respiration to reach parameters. He came down quickly, and we vetted through with flying colors. He was getting really hungry at that point, so it was fortunate that the field we were in was full of lush, green grass. While he grazed I arranged a clean saddle pad (something we missed at the prior two checks) and chugged down some human electrolytes with my lunch. The heat had risen, so the shade trees along the edge of the river were very much appreciated.
We were only 12.5 miles from the finish line as we left McCoy's Ford, crossed the Shenandoah River, and headed towards the fourth hold at Liberty Hall. We were pretty much alone on this stretch, and it was nice enough to open up into a canter at times, enjoying the cool woods and less trying footing of dirt paths and gravel roads. We reached Liberty Hall, Itch's pulse immediately dropping to parameters. All along his CRI numbers were excellent, and even at this point, only 4 miles from the finish, his CRI numbers actually dropped at the trot out. The vet gave me a huge smile, and told me Itch was doing great. I could tell the vet was more than happy -- all around me vets were quietly talking in concerned voices to attentive riders, and more than once I heard the words "marginal", and "it would be wise to take it slower". The good weather had encouraged quite a few to push their horses towards their metabolic limits, and several riders were being strongly encouraged to remain at the hold for a bit longer to allow their horses a chance to recover.
While I was pleased that my pony was physically doing exceptional well, I could also tell he was becoming mentally tired. It was the hottest part of the day, and the sun was blistering out in the open. This was the only hold I left on time, but since the mind drives the body, we walked out and continued at a walk for about a half mile before moving into a trot. It was all uphill for two miles -- nice wide open gravel trail, but tough to do after you've already gone 48 miles up and down mountains. Itch dropped into a slow jog trot, conserving energy. About a quarter mile from the top we slowed to a walk. I got off and walked beside him just as five riders came trotting up the slope. As they passed us Itch pricked his ears. Their horses were breathing heavily and I suspected they had pushed the trot the entire way. I watched as they slowed to a walk at the very top. "OK, Itch", I said as I mounted up. "We're rested enough. Let's go."
We broke into a trot, reaching the other riders as they paused on the edge of Skyline Drive, all deciding who would lead down the trail on the other side. As one gal agreed to lead and trotted across the road, we caught up and trotted across with her, the rest of her group fanning out behind. The head of the trail leading down the mountain was a narrow single track that had precious few opportunities to pass. We both reached the head of the path together. At that moment the other horse hesitated just a fraction of a second as he looked at the log step-downs (for erosion), but it was enough for Itch to zip past and take the lead. It was all we needed. Refreshed and ready to go, he flew into his downhill mode, instantly leaving the others far behind as he cruised down the hill at a flying trot.
I could feel his enthusiasm returning as the cool woods closed around us, and by the time we reached the end of the mile long hill, he was back in focus, his trot strong and ground covering. I knew at that moment that my riding had worked to perfection. I had kept all the stress points to a minimum, and he had responded, doing a wonderful job. I had plenty of pony left under me -- more than enough to continue. We turned onto the hardtop road, only a half mile left to go, my pony's ears pricked ahead towards home. For the first time I felt a huge surge of excitement. Within sight of home, we were going to make it...we were going to complete the Old Dominion, and do it in terrific style!
The ground flew under our feet as we flew down the road, rounded a corner onto a gravel road and made the final turn into the woods leading towards the finish line. I asked Itch for a canter, and he replied with a hand gallop as the path exited the woods and rose up and down the grassy dip before leveling off at the far end of the field at the top of base camp. I could see a crowd of people at the finish line, and as we turned up the speed to a gallop up the final slope, I could hear the cheers and applause. It was the most memorable moment of my life as Itch galloped, strong and happy, across the finish line. I pulled up with the biggest grin on my face, glowing in the clapping and cheering enthusiasm of the crowd. Unfortunately, I had told Kitty to meet me back at my trailer, so she didn't get to see, or photograph, our triumphal completion, but I was too happy to care. Glad to be back "home", we walked back to the trailer to meet a delighted Kitty. We turned Itch loose in his pen and watched as he made a bee-line for his straw bed, stretched out, and peed for what seemed like an eternity. Poor boy! I had suspected that his "tiredness" coming out of Liberty Hall and on the last stretch of the trail was actually due to the fact that he had to pee, but for some reason he had held it in -- unusual for him.
At any rate he was now ready for the final vetting, which he again passed with flying colors. For all our extra time relaxing at the holds, and not bothering to worry about going out on time, we still ended up finishing 31 out of 74 horses. Amazing... and quite encouraging! Come the fall we will begin to get more focused and treat the rides with a greater level of attention to timing details, but for now we've done what we've set out to do. Which is learn all about the ins and outs of endurance riding.
As a reward for such a great job well done I took that coveted OD completion award -- a gorgeous brass Old Dominion belt buckle -- and had Journeyman Saddlery in Middleburg make a custom (bright blue!) lizard skin belt for it. Itch's reward was he got his shoes pulled and a whole month's vacation. It was well worth all the work!
Its interesting to note that Itch's aluminum shoes -- St. Croix Forge Eventers -- held up far better than I could have ever hoped. Despite the hideous conditions they were subjected to, I was astonished, and very delighted, to find they had worn barely at all -- I actually could have taken them another 50 miles and still had wear to spare! The steel wear plates drilled into the toes, and set screws drilled into the heels, had taken the brunt of the punishment of rocks, gravel and paved roads -- and had held up beautifully. I had counted a vast number of lost shoes, lost EZ boots, and riders struggling with both scenarios enroute throughout the whole ride, but my shoes had stayed on tight as a tick, even with Itch's "Mach 1" flights downhill. Mentally I patted myself on the back -- since I'm his farrier. I took the shoes to the master farrier in our area, Paul Goodness, who had helped me decide on how to protect the wear on the shoes, and whose staff had graciously drilled and tapped the heels for me, and showed him the end results. Even he was amazed, and delighted to know that his suggestion had been so successful. I was grateful to him for his expert help, and generosity in allowing me to use his staff and equipment. A great neighbor, and gracious professional!
So now as the summer deepens, and Itch dozes happily in his stall -- when he's not rolling in the dirt! -- Libby and I have been enjoying the cool mornings in our daily long-lining stroll down the roads and cross county. She's such a sweet, loving pony, and I adore working with her. She's already learning to pull weight with her breast collar -- something she takes to like a duck to water -- and stands quite uncaring as I drape myself across her back, ready to start accepting a rider. We'll continue working this month on the basics of being a riding and carriage pony, and next month will be ready to introduce her to actually pulling a cart.
