The Ides of August

 (I realize it’s only the 11th, but the ominous foreboding fits my mood)

Why shouldn’t I be thrilled to death? Zach successfully completed his 14-d forced march at the lab, tired & sleep-deprived but otherwise none the worse for wear. He was disappointed that taxes & withholding took a disproportionate chunk out of that overtime - sorry son!

Apparently my link to top-secret blog may be faulty, so I’ll just paste in last week’s entry:

Tuesday, July 30, 2024

The Finish Line

 Whelp who'd have thunk it?? You got your boy through college as he now enters Month 2 of Gainful Employment with the City of Dallas (so far so good as I still can't completely relax - ask me in another 6 mos!)... The oddest of co-inky-dinks considering his father was working for Dallas County decades ago when we first met.

But apparently the New Rules are:

1.) I'm not invited over unless Victoria is working

2.) Lunch or dinner are off the table unless it's a Very Special Occasion (which is a damn shame, considering how most of your life these days seems to revolve around your next meal!) Your own re-edumacation is definitely in order; it’s downright sad and pitiable to live this way.

3.) Phone calls are definitely rationed - whereas Z used to call me almost every day, now I’m lucky to get an unsolicited call twice a week, maybe? (I realize it’s only Tuesday - 3 more days left in this week! - but Zach has called me Friday & Monday, and Friday didn’t really count because he was calling to get payment through for his coworker)

Withdrawal is hard; the process is as painful as any other addiction. I know I must release my arrow & let him fly where he may… And hopefully he will carry on long after I am gone - my legacy

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My cousin’s ex-husband passed away rather suddenly (age 66 which sounds younger Every. Damn. Day) so I went by the visitation this afternoon to show my support for his young adult daughters. It was a good excuse to see my cousins as we haven’t had any significant family social events since Covid. Life gets busy, etc, etc - I wasn’t sure if Denise herself was going (I started to text her but I figured she had enough on her plate - if she was there, I’d see her! & she was) Turns out they were on vacation, so she had to cut things short & drive back.
If I’m lucky enough to outlive my ex, I will probably attend his funeral in pure support of my son (not to mention it would drive his widow CrAzY!). Maybe there’s my goal to shoot for?!?

(Photos still won’t load so I’ll have to put some pictures from yesterday‘s trail ride up tomorrow)

And here’s one last Tevis tale - from a non-finisher who made it exactly as far as I did in my attempt Way Back When in Y2K:

I apologize that this post has taken so long to appear, but Tevis  was, for me, an overwhelming experience. The people involved were simply wonderful. I don’t think I met a single soul who wasn’t kind, helpful, and happy to be there. experienced riders went out of their way to give me their best advice. Non-riders who are simply fans of my book recognized Shiloh across the fairgrounds and on the trail, shouting out greetings, comments on his beauty, and well wishes for our ride. It was amazing.

We settled Shiloh into his stall on the fairgrounds on Monday,  then spent a few days scouting out Robinson flat, Forest Hill, and Robie park. I rode the trail down to the river while searching for No Hands bridge before Jonni Jewell took me in hand and showed me the correct path. On Friday morning we headed for RobiePark. After setting up camp I took Shiloh out on the beginnings of the trail for a quick tack check ride.  It was emotional, seeing the sign that says Tevis start, and the view across the valley towards Watsons monument, especially since I knew it would be dark when next I saw that spot again.  Until that moment, I don’t think it felt real.

The rest of Friday was taken up with rider check in, initial vet in, a bit of shopping, crew meeting, first time rider meeting, dinner, and the ride meeting itself.  It was surreal, like stepping into my computer, to be in Robie Park the day before Tevis, where I had so often dreamed of, but only watched electronically.  We were now a part of it.  The dreamlike quality was only enhanced by seeing a sleek, confident, black bear, and her three cubs strolling leisurely through camp.

After an near sleepless night, the alarm at 3 AM, was something of a relief. Tacking up took a little longer than usual because of the requirements for the tracker to be placed in a spot open to the sky, and the number tag to be placed in a spot visible from a far on the left side but we finally got it figured out and I met Jonni for the walk to pen two.  After walking Shiloh around a few minutes, I found a quiet spot and took the time to savor the moment , feeling immense gratitude for the many people, and the wonderful horse that were allowing me to have this experience. Shiloh was so amped up by the darkness and horses that he actually fell asleep.

The word came down to move out, and we joined the line, headed for the Tevis start. I had worried that Shiloh would find the walking speed of the Arabians too slow, but he seemed willing to simply move with the herd. And then we were off, surrounded by trotting Arabians Shiloh and I simply moved along at the speed of the pack, but as they began to thin out, Jonni took the lead to show me the pace that her calculations had shown that we needed to maintain to make the cut offs. It was a good thing that she did so, for I had had no idea tha you needed to move that quickly, that relentlessly, at the start of this ride.

Shiloh felt good, and was eager but his heart rate was higher than I would want, and I became a little worried about keeping up the pace. Trail is largely very rocky, ranging from hard pack, gravel road consistency to dusty trail that hides predator rocks waiting to pounce. We went through forests, crosssed The highway, emerged above the old Olympic Village, and then climbed up under the ski lifts to Watson‘s monument.  This was the only place that Jonni let me stop to take a picture. Otherwise she was relentless. When I expressed concern about Shiloh’s ability to keep up the pace, she simply stated that without that pace, we would not finish.He drank well on the slopes of Squaw Valley, and recovered well at Watsons monument so I decided to ride the horse and not the heart rate.

It’s hard to adequately describe the beauty of the granite chief wilderness. The vista in the distance is rock, a harsh and savage land, but the area of the trail is alpine, covered in lush vegetation with Wildflowers tucked among gray and white rocks with a trickle of water making a lovely background melody.  It is also a vicious and unforgiving trail. The horses have to weave through rock beds where the rocks vary in size from golf balls to house sized and everything in between. In many spots, the vegetation completely covered the trail, making it impossible for Shiloh to see where to place his feet. The lovely trickling streams make many rocks incredibly slippery, and other spots are boggy. It’s no more tricky than many of the trails Shiloh and I have done at the big South Fork but in Tennessee I can slow down for them. Here they had to be taken, mostly at a fast rack.  At one point the trail made a fairly sharp right turn and Shiloh placed both his left feet on what turned out to be a slippery flat rock. Both feet slid to the left and for a moment I thought we would go down.  Shiloh twisted and recovered, keeping us both upright, but the movement required wrenched his back.

Up to that point, he had been moving out easily, and in good form, rounding his back and using his haunches to absorb the jarring motion of speed on down hills. Over the next miles however, he became more and more reluctant to round.  Even so when we reached cougar rock, he was still doing well. We headed towards the rock, and I simply told him “go for it. You were made for this! “ the volunteers at the rock, give you directions, because it is not clear where the best path to the top lies. Stick to the left in the beginning, and then turn right. Shiloh never lost his momentum and climbed that rock like a boss.  I have never been so proud of a horse.

At the first vet, check, a gate and go, Shiloh took a bit longer than I would like to pause down. At the time I attributed it to the heat, and the speed at which we had been going, but I’m now beginning to wonder if it was the pain in his back.  Jonni was kind enough to wait for me, but as we rode on, we both agreed that I should slow down and she should go ahead. After her kindness, I did not want to be the reason if she were overtime. So Shiloh and I found ourselves still moving fairly quickly but now alone.

We reached Robinson flat, and met up with the crew who were simply superb. They met us down the road and immediately began using the hand, held shower to pour cool water on Shiloh. When I dismounted at the trough, they quickly untacked and continued to spray water on him until he reached the pulse criteria and we could go to the vet. He looked good at the vet, alert happy to move out, decent scores for this part of the ride, but then his CRI was 60/72. The vet asked us to come back in 50 minutes for a recheck.

During the hold, Shiloh appreciated the shady spot the crew had found to set up our temporary camp. He had soaked alfalfa and mash, clear water, and brine and he took full advantage of all of it. Jo massaged his hind quarters, Lori showered him with cool water and Jonni sent over a member of her crew with handfuls of ice to help him cool down. I was told in no uncertain terms, to sit down, drink Gatorade, and eat a sandwich. I also planned to change here from my warmer longsleeved T-shirt to a high tech cooling, sunscreen shirt, in preparation for the heat of the canyons.  I just didn’t feel like walking all the way to the bathrooms to change, however, so I decided that wearing a sports bra constituted being decent, and I simply changed my shirt in my chair where I sat.  Now I know how many photographers were around. I find myself most grateful that there are no pictures on the Internet that I can find of my doing so.

Thanks to the good care from my crew Shiloh’s CRI was 40 and 44 when we went back to the vet.  We left Robinson flat exactly on time and only a few moments behind Jonni. The next 10 miles are not particularly difficult trail, but they are hard packed, are often gravel roads, and have minimal shade.  Much of it is downhill, and Shiloh‘s reluctance to round his back became more and more of an issue. Eventually, I could feel him stabbing his back feet into the ground instead of allowing his hind quarters to absorb the shocks of each step. This is a direct result of a flat stiff back and I became more and more worried. He continued to drink well but by mile 45 I knew that I would pull at last chance.

The last 5 miles are the trail to and around pucker point. It’s a beautiful single track trail under tall trees that comes out on the edge of a cliff with a 350 to 400 foot drop to the American river on your right and steep hillside on the left. The views are spectacular and by this time in the ride I had done so much stuff that scared the spit out of me that pucker point was no problem at all. Indeed, I slowed down knowing that time did not matter when I would be pulling soon and planned to get some video of us going around poker point. I got a little bit of video leading up to it, but my phone died before the actual pucker point.  Sorry about that guys.

At one spot Shiloh and I came up on a woman with her mare pulled over slightly to the side of the trail. She was attempting to place a hoof boot but her horse was most anxious because their companions had moved on. I put Shiloh in front of her and offered to stay and keep them company until she was able to move on. That allowed her horse to feel comforted and stay still. Once she remounted, I moved over to let her pass, but her horse refused to leave Shiloh. I explained that I had given up, but would attempt to pick up my speed to see to it, that she reached last chance before the cut off and we moved out together. After a mile or two, her horse was willing to lead instead of follow, and I slowly fell back until she was out of sight.

That lady is the only reason Shiloh and I reached last chance before the cut off. But I still knew that I did not  need to take an injured Shiloh into the canyons. He pulsed down at last chance quite quickly, and we went to the vet where I explained that he did not feel right and I would be pulling. After close examination, Vet felt that he could go on. His gait was even, his CRI good, his back only slightly tender to palpation, and his hydration indicators were all within parameters as fit to continue. It didn’t matter. I know that I cannot walk the canyons, that our well-being is entirely dependent upon Shiloh’s strength, and that that strength was compromised.

We saw the treatment vet, a requirement if you are pulling, even if the other vet thinks your horse is fine, and she explained that we would be trailered out but that there were seven horses requiring a trailer ride and Shiloh was the one in the best shape so he would, of course be going to last . I understood. Shiloh found the waiting incredibly easy.  He was being enthusiastically, cared for by a group of 10 to 12 year old girls who saw to it that he had an endless supply of mash, alfalfa, water, carrots, apples, watermelon, and petting.  This was surely horse heaven. I sat on a bale of alfalfa and cried.  Just because I knew it was the right thing to do didn’t make the giving up any easier.

We actually didn’t have to be the last people out of last chance. There was a horse who would not load, and they finally looked at me and asked if Shiloh would. Of course he would. And we began the four hour 40 mile trip to Forest Hill. On arriving in Forest Hill we were greeted by my entire crew who had gathered there. It turns out they had spent some hours thinking that Shiloh and I might be the pair who had gotten in to so much trouble in the canyons. The hours that I spent feeling sorry for myself they had spent thinking Shiloh and I might be dead, and next to their obvious distress, my own disappointment seemed quite petty.

In Forest Hills, Shiloh was required to see another treatment vet and get a final clearance to go back to his stall in the fairgrounds. I have to say the dedication of the vets to seeing that every horse is cared for, that no horse slips through the cracks, was very impressive. After waiting a while for some of the rigs around ours to clear out, we once again found ourselves on the road to Auburn, where Shiloh got his comfy stall, clean water, abundant alfalfa, and a chance to rest.

Tevis was an amazing experience. Just to ride that trail, with all the history, both the history of the California gold rush and the history of the sport of endurance, was quite a privilege. The effort that Shiloh put into this, the care he took with me, fills my heart. My crew was nothing short of amazing. Six women and my brother, who didn’t know each other and barely knew me before this experience became friends. The volunteers of Tevis are nothing short of miraculous. There seemed to be nothing I could ask for that they did not have for both Shiloh and myself. I think I could’ve asked for a chocolate malt and someone would’ve found it

If you ever think you might like to do Tevis, I strongly recommend it. It was a life-changing experience. That said, I do not believe that I will try again. I would love to experience that trail at a pace where I could enjoy it. I would love to experience that trail, when I did not feel that speed was of the essence. I am very glad I tried, but far less concerned that I did not complete than I would’ve thought that I would be. I had a wonderful experience that I got to share with the worlds greatest horse.  I got a cougar rock picture. I met great people. A buckle would’ve probably been too much icing on the cake for this old woman.