Ride Day

Ride Day!

We woke up at 3am and fed the horses. Time to get the day going. We were able to get ourselves ready plus make sure our Super Crew of Two (SC2) also had everything they needed along with reviewing the grand plan for the day. Tacking up went smoothly to my relief. Sometimes this is where things suddenly don’t work. The girth will decide to get stuck and not let me tighten or loosen (English style buckles; shouldn't be a problem, right!?!). I’ll forget the HRM and have to redo the entire mess. The saddle pad will stubbornly refuse to sit evenly across my horse’s back. Or worse scenario—my saddle will fall off the horse and the velcro’d panels will pop off (and this has happened before, once FOUR times in the same tacking up process with my can’t-stand-still little black monster). But all was well and soon we were ready to mount. Naturally, right after I easily got on, I realized I had forgotten my sunglasses. ARGH! I remembered where I had put them and they had not wandered off so the situation was quickly righted and I was back in the saddle.

With goodbyes called to the SC2, we were away, walking along in the darkness of Robie Park, moving towards the group 2 holding area. By the time we strolled up, the group had been released up the road. Dust in the air ahead showed us the way and we passed by the truck taking our numbers. It was a nice walk up to the starting area. I moved Boomer across the road from side to side using my leg and asking him to yield to the bit. He was responding well and loosening up nicely. Eventually we came to the end of the pack. Perfect timing as we only had to endure standing for a few minutes before the trail was open. Both horses were relaxed as we walked out and eventually got trotting down the forest road. Boomer felt strong as we moved along in the early dawn but he was responsive and not trying to go faster and faster. No fuss at all. A perfect start to the day.

The first part of the trail quickly becomes single-track. The views of the surrounding mountains are breathtaking as the sun rises and the light changes. We came to the four narrow wooden bridges which both horses crossed without any hesitation. Farley was in the lead and on a mission. He was feeling good! Boomer followed his buddy. We came to the snaking trail that takes you down to and then under Hwy 89. You come back up and then hook around to ride across the bridge, the sounds of hoof steps hanging in the early morning air. There are spectators at the crossing cheering on the riders. Our last bit of paved road until Foresthill. On we went towards Squaw Valley for more spectacular views.

We found ourselves behind Cathy Perry, the speaker at the first time Tevis riders' meeting. We figured if we were hanging with her, then our pace was good as she was after her 20th buckle. Who better to follow?! We stayed in her vicinity for a good portion of the trail through Lyon's Ridge.

Then the big climb over Emigrant Pass began. The trail is wide here—vehicle plus wide—so you can relax as you climb and look around. At High Camp, there were water troughs that the horses eagerly drank from. The technical trail and mountain air seems to bring about thirsty horses earlier in the ride than we are used to. On up we go. Near the top, we saw Cowman, a character of sorts who has done this trail as a runner and a rider. He was wearing a black running skirt along with his cow horn hat. Very fetching! We hit the top of the climb and I saw Watson’s Monument but with the sun glaring in my eyes, along with the dust that is making them tear, I forgot to look back at Lake Tahoe, focusing instead on the trail ahead. Still, what I do see continues to be breathtaking. This ride has no shortage of views to remember.

The trail now narrowed to single track and Farley continued to lead the way. We hung alongside the mountains on narrow strips of trail and trotted along. We trotted on trail that I would neer have believed I would have trotted on but you had to in order to make time. This is how it is the entire ride--trotting stuff you'd never dreamed of trotting. I'm sure those out west are used to such stuff but for a Florida girl, I was cringing. I kept silently apologizing to Boomer and praying all would be well with him.

The part of the trail I was dreading was approaching—Granite Chief, a 3 mile section of rocks, boulders, and bogs. This year the bogs were not bad; many had been washed clean of the dirt, leaving only the rock underneath exposed, sometimes with water on top and sometimes not. This section is a destroyer of leg protection as often the trail is in a narrow gulley with rocks on either side at the level of pastern, fetlock, and cannon bone. Many riders do this ride without using leg boots on their horses. I am not one of them nor am I one to not fully pad my horse’s hooves for protection against that rock with our name on it. Why take the risk? And hearing Sara talk of horses getting joint punctures from the rocks in this section, thus ending their ride and possibly their careers and even lives, I would recommend using as full of leg protection as you can. Unfortunately, I could not find a pair of full hind boots that would not rub Boomer so he wore his usual ankle boots. He only got a couple of scrapes above the boots but wouldn’t have had those had he been wearing taller boots.

We scrambled and stumbled our way through. At times, it’s not THAT bad and other times, I had to question what I was asking my horse to do. But on we went and eventually we got to a much kinder trail. We came into the trot by at Lyon’s Ridge. More water troughs but the water was so cold that our horses refused to drink it. We quickly gave some electrolytes though since they had drank well earlier. Then we did the trot by the vet, holding our breaths and hoping we didn't hear “STOP!”. We were good.

A few miles later, there it was—Cougar Rock. My plan was to go around, taking the bypass. I’ve seen the videos and photos and heard the tales of falls on the rock. While a cool photo is nice, I was after the buckle. A few years ago, a rider from MO on a beautiful half-Arab pinto got the most gorgeous photo on Cougar Rock. However, the next 2 photos in the sequence showed what happened next and it wasn’t pretty as the mare slipped and went down on her knees. She was pulled later in the day for lameness. The next year, they returned, skipped the rock (after all, they could not have improved on that one awesome photo!), and got the buckle.

I asked Chris what she was going to do and she said “I’m going over the rock!” and away she went when the spotter at the base sent her. I stood there with mouth open and heart racing. What was I going to do?? Go for it or go around? The spotter said I could go and I said that I wanted to watch my friend first because I wasn’t sure I could do it. Chris and Farley cruised up and over the rock like it was nothing. They made it look so smooth and easy. Boomer watched his buddy go and wanted to follow. I took a deep breath and said OK and away we went. I was terrified! I knew from my jumping days that I had to think forward and ride the same. The trick is to follow the arrows painted on the rock for the safest pathway. The volunteers call direction and encouragement to help. Boomer never hesitated, never slipped, never stumbled. He motored right up and over that rock like it was something he did every day in the pasture. The feeling once we reached the top of the world (rock!) was amazing. I whooped and hollered with exhilaration! Boomer had done it!

As I rode away to catch up with Chris, I heard a clatter and “Oh no!” I looked back and saw someone running over on the top of the rock. I wondered if I had spooked a horse with my celebration and worried about that as I caught up to Chris. I told her I thought something had happened back there but she correctly said there was nothing for us to do but ride on as there were plenty of people there to assist in whatever had happened. No one came up behind us, despite there being a lot of people behind us across the last few miles. It was a bit later when other riders finally caught us. I asked what had happened and learned that one of the photographers had fallen, striking his head. The riders said it was a horrible thing to see and were understandably upset. I was relieved I hadn’t sent a horse over the edge but saddened to hear about the poor photographer.

From later reports, the photographer had stood up after I passed because there was a gap behind me. He went to stretch and stepped back. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any rock behind where he stepped so he fell 15-20 feet, hitting the rock below. One of the other photographers was a former Marine and experienced in field emergency response. Medivac was called but could not land so a smaller highway patrol helicopter was brought in to move the man to a location that the larger medical chopper could get to. Both wrists broken, one broken leg, and a broken nose. He spent a night or 2 in the hospital and was released to recover at home. He’ll never forget Tevis 2010!

Due to the emergency response to the downed photographer, the riders behind us HAD to go over the rock. The bypass was no longer an option as he fell on that side. And insult to injury, no photographs were taken of their scramble over the famous Cougar Rock due to the remaining photographers helping their injured friend.

The next challenging portion of the trail is Elephant’s Trunk. I can’t say for sure which portion was actually it but there were 2 intense portions of trail, one that had you riding on the side of the mountain on a small level (well, kinda level) trail with mountainside sloping above and below with nothing to stop your slide down if you "left the trail." Another portion was a steep climb up and up and up a center trail with slopes of rocks on both sides. That climb was harder than Cougar Rock due to the length of it. The horses were working hard but still they went on.

After all this fun, things settled down on the trail and became much easier (all is relative though!). The trail widened to a jeep track, allowing for more relaxed trotting (breathe Debbie, breathe!). Soon we were coming into Red Star Ridge, a bit later than I had hoped but still OK. This is the first gate and go vet check. The place was swarming! Milling horses everywhere in a tight area. I’d seen this spot a few years ago on a pre-ride jeep jaunt. It did not look as confined as it was on ride day. Amazing how the addition of dozens of horse and riders and volunteers can really tighten things up! The horses were thirsty and drank well. The vet line was long and slow moving. I got in it, hoping Boomer’s pulse would be down by the time I got through. Chris was ahead of me. I vetted through in good shape but didn’t see Chris waiting at the end of the trotting lane. The vets do the assessment, hand you back your card, and have you trot out one way. If they don’t yell, you are good to keep going. This is done to decrease the congestion in the gate area.

I fought my way back to the swarm, looking for Chris. The vets had not liked how Farley was moving and told her to come back in 10 mins for a recheck. What!?! I’d been behind him for 28+ miles and he was moving fine. When it was time, Chris fought her way to the front of the line for the recheck. The vets hemmed and hawed but I told them he looked fine to me and I should know since I rode behind him frequently and had seen him when he wasn’t fine. They let Chris go reluctantly, telling her to “watch him.” OK, now how do you “watch” your horse that might be moving funky behind?!?

The recheck slipped us further behind on our goal time for Robinson Flat. I wanted 11:00. I would settle for 11:30. On we went. Farley decided he was done with leading which is normal for him. Boomer doesn’t care where he is in the pack and he was still interested in going although uphills he was now taking at a walk. Fortunately, this 7.5 miles is fairly level on a hard packed forest road. There’s enough rocks and holes and ruts to call for some caution but you can do a decent pace through here (again, all is relative!). I did it in an hour.

Farley and Chris started to fall back. I debated what to do. Do I stick with them or press on in case Farley wasn’t right enough at Robinson Flat to go on? The cut-off for Robinson Flat is noon and once you start pushing cut-offs, things get a bit nerve-wracking or at least they do for me. Maybe it’s the 19 years of military service that has embedded the adage “Early is on time; on time is late” which results in anxiety whenever I start running behind. Farley pulsed down much faster than the much thicker Boomer so he had the advantage coming into vet checks. I decided to push on, figuring Chris would only be about 5 mins behind at the most and I could always use the extra 5 mins on the hold to let Boomer eat.

I rode down the road into Robinson Flat and spied the SC2 in their snug pink Team Florida t-shirts. We got Boomer’s tack off and my brother and I continued up the road to the vetting area. He did not know where Sara had set up the gear, having arrived much later than she did. I asked how the rig moving went and was relieved that all went smoothly and that I still had a rig (and a brother!). Boomer was very hungry and grabbed at the alfalfa hay near the vetting area. The pulse parameter was 60 here (as it was at Red Star) but Boomer came down well and we vetted through without a problem. I didn’t care what marks I was getting on the card. I just wanted to be handed back that card. The B for gut sounds is a normal finding for Boomer and the way he was looking for food told me he’d be fine. But, I could not find my stuff and after stumbling up a churned up hill and back down, stumbling over roots and rocks of the freshly marred soil (thanks to logging in that area a few days before the ride), I gave up and walked back down where there was a bale of alfalfa and water. I knew eventually Chris would arrive and Sara could tell me where to go. Chris finally arrived and vetted through without a problem. She came in 14 mins behind me but I decided to wait in hopes we could continue to ride together. The hold went by too fast. The horses ate enthusiastically and we less so but we got enough plus more fluids. Time to go. This year, the exit CRI check was gone. Hurray! We got to the timer and went out a couple of mins late. ACK! Now I was really stressing. At least the next part of the trail was such we should be able to make decent time.

Leaving Robinson Flat, you trot along the trail under huge pine trees. Then you hit the open side of the mountain, bare due a fire several years ago. Dust, dust, dust. I’ve not mentioned much about the dust before but it’s there the whole ride. Sometimes almost not there but other times so thick and heavy that you can’t see the ground in front of you. It got heavy here. Farley started to lag again and again I was stewing about what to do. In the end, I rode on, knowing my anxiety level about the cut-offs would only increase unless I got a decent margin built back up.

The trail from Robinson Flat to Dusty Corners soon becomes an easy to ride trail with no terrifying drop-offs. I fell in with a few others trotting down the trail, taking this bit of “easy” trail to relax some. At Dusty Corners, the volunteers offered watermelon and refills on our water bottles while the horses drank. I left out of Dusty Corners for Last Chance, falling in as last horse behind a string of about 6 others. Trot, trot, trot. Dust, dust, dust. The guy in front of me commented how nice it would be to ride this trail at a slower pace so you could enjoy the scenery. There were parts of this trail that got scary and I joked that instead of looking for “Pucker Point” I wanted to know where “Puckerless Point” was because I needed to unpucker! I was too scared to look out over the canyon as we hung on the side of the mountain, many thousands of feet above the bottom.

I came into the Last Chance gate and go and Boomer once again drank well but when I offered him some hay, he just stood there, looking tired. We had just covered 50 hard miles of trail in 9:25. Take out the hour hold and the 20 mins at Red Star and we are talking a ride time just over 8 hours for 50 miles. I’ve done FLAT 50s in FL in more time than that! I offered him some oats and he took some, then some more, and then some more. He perked back up and took the hay and I let him eat while I drank a few glasses of lemonade and ate some watermelon. Again, this was a check where the vets did their assessment, handed you the card, and told you to start running to trot your horse out. They’d yell if you were good or not. I got the “Good!” call and kept going, only stopping at the stepstool to get back on. The first canyon was next and I knew we’d be slow so wanted to get to it.

I found the first canyon a bit intimidating going down. Narrow, well, it’s ALL narrow! Lots of ruts and rocks. Due to my trashed ankle, Boomer was stuck toting me the whole way. We picked our way down, traveling behind a man from Canada who had ridden Tevis many times before. I asked him questions about the rest of the trail and the cutoffs. He said usually you start picking back up some time as the day goes on but you needed to keep moving. So move we did, even if it was at a walk. At the bottom is the Swinging Bridge. Some riders dismount; others ride across. I elected to ride for fear that if Boomer got upset, he might step on me as we crossed the narrow bridge. He’s not good about my space not being his space on a good day and if he gets worried, forget my space being mine. So I rode across. I felt the bridge sway some but Boomer didn’t seem to be bothered. No biggie. After all those miles in the back of a moving horse trailer, what was a swinging bridge?! Some riders go down into the river but while you can really cool your horse down, you can spend a lot of time there. On the other side of the bridge there’s a creek that you can sponge from and let your horse drink from but Boomer wasn’t interested in drinking from it. I told him that he’d be sorry in a few minutes as we began the big climb with 36,000 switchbacks. Well, it seemed like 36,000 but I think it's really something like 36.

We weren’t fast going down into that canyon and got even slower climbing out. Boomer self-regulates his pace. When his pulse gets into the 160s, he stops. Once it drops, he’ll restart. I’ve found if I sit and let him rest about 30 seconds, he’ll go again when I ask. Otherwise, he balks and stops even more frequently. So I’ve learned to be patient. Thus became our pattern . . . walk, climb, stop, walk, climb, stop. A rider tailing came up behind us. I offered to get over at the next spot but he said he was OK being behind. His horse, however, wasn’t and was full of power. The rider just needed a break! Eventually they did go around. You can move over on the switchbacks and let others pass. I did a lot of this climbing out of the canyon. Maybe Boomer would have gone faster but I didn’t want to burn him up. Plus, it was hot. Not Florida hot with humidity that saps the air out of your lungs but just plain hot. And Boomer was working hard to cool himself.

It was on this climb out of the canyon that I saw a sight I’d hoped not to see: a horse down off the trail. Oh no! But unlike Ice Joy, this horse was alive and none too happy about her predicament. A volunteer (an ultrarunner getting in a run after helping at one of the holds) was down in the gully with her, keeping her calm until they could figure out how to get her back onto the trail. The rider was OK. It had to be a horrible experience but both were OK and the mare escaped with just a few scrapes. I heard she was initially upside down with her neck pinned but they got her upright. Glad I didn’t see her in the upside down state. I did not see the memorial to Ice Joy, probably because I was focusing on looking straight ahead due to the drop-offs.

One hour and 22 mins after leaving Last Chance, we crested the canyon at Devil’s Thumb. There used to be a Boy Scout troop working that area, eager to pour water and sponge hot horses and riders. Unfortunately, they disbanded and no other group has stepped forward to help at this location. But there were still volunteers there, just not the hoards of young eager scouts. I tossed water on Boomer and let him drink. He was really blowing to dissipate heat. The gate and go at Deadwood was a mile away and I decided to get going at a walk, utilizing the ultrarunner technique of “relentless forward motion” to get us there while giving Boomer a chance to cool down along the way. The pulse at this check was 64. It took several mins to get Boomer’s pulse down but it got there. I let him eat and drink while we waited for his pulse to drop. I think this is where a vet said that Boomer looked tired. I wanted to say “Well DUH!” but refrained. Boomer was eating and drinking and had recovered. Total time in that gate and go was 12 mins.

On we went to El Dorado Canyon. I had hiked down into this canyon from Michigan Bluff a few years back so had an idea of what was on the other side. In contrast to the first canyon, I found this one had a lot of trot-able trail going down so trot I did. Yes, it was scary because once again, the trail was narrow and hanging on the side of the mountain with a looonnnggg dropoff. I actually passed someone going downhill! Her horse decided to trot after mine so down, down, down we went. We were passed on the uphill side though, by this horse and several others. Sigh . . . but I can’t expect a FL horse to be able to climb out of canyons with any great speed.

The climb out was a repeat of the previous canyon. Long and slow with frequent stops. Fewer switchbacks. I got into Michigan Bluff at 6:26. Cut-off for Chicken Hawk, 1.5 miles away was 7:30pm. Boomer drank well but I wanted to toss water on him. I saw someone I knew from the Big Horn who was crewing for his wife and daughter. He had a small bucket so I borrowed it and dumped several bucketfuls on Boomer. Away we went out of Michigan Bluff. I longingly looked at Gary and Judy Hall’s home, thinking of the time I’d spent there on previous visits. I knew there was beer in the bar refrigerator. Had we stayed there prior to the ride, Boomer would have quit for sure, especially after those 2 canyons. And I may have been OK with that!

The hard packed road to Chicken Hawk allows you to move out a bit which I did until the road turned and started to climb up to the vet check. Boomer slowed to a walk and I decided to just hop off and lead him up, giving him a break from carrying me while we were on footing I could walk on without fear of upsetting my ankle. Boomer again drank and ate. As soon as his pulse was in the 60s I got in the vet line, knowing he would be down to 64 by the time it was my turn. Instead of trot on and go, we had to trot back to the vet. B’s for gait and just about everything else. It was time for a break which would come after the next smaller canyon but I had to keep moving.

I found myself riding with my 2 Big Horn saviors, Jack Evers and Sue Basham. Without them, I’d have never finished that ride. It was neat to ride along together. I mused about how you don’t hear a lot of comments about this third canyon (Volcano Canyon) so maybe it wasn’t much to worry about. Ha! Probably nothing to the locals but still something to Florida peeps! But then we hit the paved Bath Road that leads up into Foresthill. Took 55 mins with another 2 mins to pulse. I was in at Foresthill at 7:58, 32 mins before cutoff.

The SC2 were waiting well down Bath Road. There’s a point past which crews are not permitted. They seemed to be close to that point for which I was grateful. We pulled Boomer’s tack and started throwing water on him. My brother and I walked up the road and to the timer while Sara waited for Chris. Once in the main area, Boomer went for the water troughs and hay. He was starving. This is when I learned something new. Boomer’s pulse drops when he’s allowed to eat. Didn’t know that but then he’s usually not ravenous like he was during this ride. Just needed a handy pulse-taking volunteer to help me discover this.

I held my breath as I trotted Boomer out. The vet looked happy and then made my day when he said “I want to tell you that your horse’s trot looked really good; lots of energy and impulsion.” I wanted to kiss the man! Those that know Boomer know that he’s pretty laid back about vet check trot outs. To have him look lively after 68 miles of tough trail was wonderful. I was grinning from ear to ear as my brother and I walked back to our little area. They had done quite the setup, complete with pop-up canopy and multiple chairs. A buffet of horse feed and hay was laid out which Boomer dove into. I kept looking at my watch. It was rapidly approaching 8:30, the cut-off for Foresthill and no Chris. A few mins after 8:30, she walked up with Sara, having just made it in—the last horse to pulse in by 8:30. Farley looked good and was doing well but they were no longer just dancing with the cut-offs; they were stepping right on them. I was 32 mins ahead of them which really wasn’t much but I knew from past experience that Boomer can really come to life after dark. The trail was pretty much downhill from Foresthill. Little did I know just how you got downhill!

I was waiting to go out before my out time. Those of us waiting were definitely happy and ready to move out. Once you reach this point, the odds of you completing go up dramatically. I went out with Jonni Jewell from TX. We trotted along in the dark, approaching the “downtown” area of Foresthill. You cross the road, ride along a nice path, then cross back for more path. Then it happened . . . the path ended. No warning in the dark. Dirt, then a dark side road. Jonni was in front and yelled “road!” and checked up. I saw sparks fly under Hank’s hooves as he slipped. I said “whoa” to Boomer. Don’t really know if I physically pulled him up or not because at this point in the day, he has a really good “whoa!” Regardless, he pulled up fast, too fast, and slipped on the road. Down we went. I don’t know how I landed or if I even really hit the ground or instead just stepped off. All I remember is the horrible feeling of Boomer going down and all it implied as he hit the asphalt. I saw him down and scrambling to regain his feet, still slipping. I remember seeing the cars on the road on the other side of us, a long string of lights heading through town and back to Auburn. Boomer finally got up and started to walk away and I jumped and grabbed the reins with visions of him running out into the traffic. I could see some scrapes on him but no active bleeding. Just road rash stuff. Left hock, stifle, elbow. Thought he had one on his knee but it wasturned out to be oil or black dirt as it was gone by the end of day. He looked upset so I wondered if he was injured somehow. Jonni apologized for forgetting about the side road but it wasn’t her fault. It really should have been marked somehow or had a spotter there as most people are trotting on the good trail while they can. I knew the roads around Foresthill had taken down horses in the past and had said I would dismount and lead my horse through the town but that thought had never entered my mind prior to the ride when I needed to remember. I felt terrible for Boomer. He didn’t deserve to fall and had done nothing wrong. My ride was probably over, all because I wasn’t careful and aware. And who knew how injured Boomer might be.

Jonni said to trot him and I jogged and Boomer trotted alongside sound. I was relieved but also wondered if it was adrenaline helping him to ignore the pain. I told Jonni I would stay on foot through the town until I got off the pavement. She was able to move out better than I was on foot and soon Boomer and I were alone as we walked through the little town. We turned at California Street and walked to the end where the dirt once again resumed. There was a volunteer there to make sure we made the correct turns. I found a spot to remount and got on, still shaken by the fall and the possible consequences, wondering if I was doing the right thing by continuing on or if I was a better person to turn around and return to the vet check and call it a day. I asked Boomer to trot and he felt fine. Not even a bobble. So I rode on, watching and feeling for an aberration in gait, any hesitancy. There was nothing.

Into the dark we went, alone on the California loop. It took a few minutes for my eyes to fully become accustomed to the moonlit night. The trail narrowed and went under trees, blocking the moon’s light. Now and then I’d see light down below. Then I realized what I was seeing—it was the river with the moon reflecting off of it. And it was waaaayyy down below, some 2000 feet or so. The trail was narrow and had switchbacks that were marked by a glowstick. Turn and drop. I got scared. Very scared. It was hard to breathe. One wrong step, one missed turn . . . . Sure my horse doesn’t want to fall. He’d just proven that back in Foresthill. It upset him to fall. Lions can eat horses that have fallen. But the horse doesn’t know that if he falls on this trail, lions are the least of his worries. He might have a chance with lions. He won’t have a chance falling hundreds of feet. I told myself to stop thinking that way and trust. Trust Boomer as he’d not done me wrong in the dark before. Remember how he stopped and dropped his head in the final yards of Longstreet’s Charge when we came down the trail under thick tree cover and a moon that had yet to rise. He took care of us then. I just had to believe he’d take care of us now. And, if I wanted to complete this ride on time, I HAD TO TROT! So I trotted, looking straight ahead.

After a mile or so, I caught up with someone. Ah, someone who will hear my screams if we take a bad step. Someone to guide the way. Turned out he lived a few hours away and had actually ridden the trail about 15 times during the daylight. A brave man, riding this trail when you can really see the drop-off! He was on a KY Mtn Horse that had a big walk on him. We moved along with him gaiting and me trotting but soon I learned he was also scared, despite the familiarity with the trail. He’d never ridden it in the dark and his horse was young so the trust wasn’t fully there yet. But he did well, moving out on the stretches he was comfortable with. A few people caught up with us. We came into a lit wide spot on the trail—the start of Cal 2. There were water troughs there along with people. The horses drank well and we went on. Eventually others joined us so there was string of riders clinging to the side of the mountain, going along, switching back and dropping, criss-crossing down towards the river. I know some may have been able to go faster but I did not hear any complaints in this section. Only when the trail got gentler, more open, and less scary were there some grumbles and as soon as it was safe, we let people pass.

Finally, the lights of the Francisco check appeared in the distance. I saw a few riders on foot leading their horses towards me. They had been pulled. I expressed my sympathy. Would I be joining them? I was worried if the effects of the fall would rear their ugly head. My goal was to get in, pulse down, vet through, let Boomer grab something to eat, and keep going. The volunteers were eager to help and I had one trot Boomer out. He looked good and I let out my breath. We were OK to go on. I let Boomer eat some more, made a pit stop of my own, and we got going again. I lost my gaited horse friend who had helped me get through that scary trail. I decided to ride on, knowing with the numbers still out on the trail I’d either catch up with someone or someone would catch up with me. And I’d not gone half a mile when others caught up with me and even passed me. I slipped in behind and away we went towards the river crossing.

The trail was much gentler here although there were still sections that were narrow with drop-offs. You just wouldn’t drop as far! I’d actually seen a piece of this trail years ago, enough to scare me (yet I still wanted to do this ride!?! Crazy people!). It was actually a bit wider than when I’d seen it which was a relief. Early on in this section, I ended up finding myself riding behind Steph Teeter. Her friend had a red light headlamp which seemed to work well. Then a rider came up behind me with a white headlamp that was very bright. Not good at all as it would cast a huge black hole in front of me. I told her that as soon as the trail was safe I needed her to pass me because the headlamp was not working for me and actually making it unsafe for my horse. She didn’t seem to get it and it took several explanations before I felt she got I wasn’t being mean or nasty but that it was a problem riding behind someone with a bright light. I got her to pass me and all was good. No problem riding BEHIND a rider with headlamp and it was actually a comfort. She asked if I was scared and I emphatically yelled YES! I told her I was terrified at times but you have to trust and ride on if you want to make it.

The river crossing was deeper than I thought and my feet got a bit wet. Boomer is 15 hands so that gives you an idea of the depth. I’d heard that it was cooler down by the river but not this night. It stayed warm so the river was refreshing. Boomer was strong and moving well, willing to do whatever pace I asked, unless it was uphill when the only pace he was doing was walk at his speed. I was OK with that.

Once across the river, the trail is mostly driving width. Trot, trot, trot. We had a little uphill at some point and a guy next to me started fretting about time and the cutoffs. Now we were WALKING on a WIDE trail and he was fretting. That tells you how messed up and non-functional your brain can become. Plenty of room to go faster and pass. I told him he could go faster, “just like this” as I asked Boomer to trot and we quietly wove our way around slower riders. We weren’t flying, just trotting easily along.

The moon was so very bright that night, almost too bright and glaring, especially after the miles on the California loop. But it was beautiful. And now that the miles left were dwindling down, I relaxed and looked around and up. Unfortunately, so did my headlamp wearing friend . . . FLASH in my eyes as she swiveled her head. Sigh . . . I just learned to watch what she was doing so I could avert my eyes. There was no sense getting in a tizzy about the situation as we were all trying to reach the same goal. There were some other riders that could have learned to think that way as they complained and grumbled, wanting trail when there was no place safe to pass. I know I told one that I’d much rather get out of their way than hold them up but unless they wanted to die, they’d have to wait because I wasn’t going to scoot over on the drop-off side. This made me think back to the runners I’d encountered on trail races and how encouraging and polite they are, something that is sometimes lacking in endurance. We could do better.

It was along this section that I saw what I thought was a sign on a tree. We were going through a dark tree covered section of the trail when the sign appeared in front of me. I kept trotting and the sign got closer but slowly closer. Hmmm, why was it taking me so long to get to that sign? Another minute passed and then I realized what I was seeing. It was a rider on her horse and the “sign” was her lighter colored shirt contrasting against her dark horse. No wonder I didn’t run into that “tree” with the sign on it! It was obviously becoming a long day!

The lights of Lower Quarry can be seen some distance away. It seems like an eternity passes before you reach that check. The trail actually goes a bit past and then you drop down to the vet area. Ah, a downhill approach to a check! Finally!! Again my plan was to vet through as soon as Boomer’s pulse was at parameters (68). He had other plans as he draggedsme to the hay that had been set out. I worried about him stiffening up so grabbed a handful of hay and coaxed him to the vet. The vet could certainly see my horse was eating so that should give me points. I again had a volunteer trot Boomer out. Still looked good but I could see some fatigue showing. The vet commented on this. I told him about our meeting with the road in Foresthill and he actually sounded mad that I didn’t stop. Maybe it was just me and the late hour. But, he handed me back the card with its boatload of B’s. B for gait . . . no problem! I’ll take it! I’d seen Boomer trot and he was moving evenly so I was OK with the marks. I took Boomer over to some hay and told him he had 5 mins to stuff his face. It was after 3; 2 hours to do the last 6 miles, 6 miles that I’d pre-ridden with 3 miles of it that we’d done 3 times. I left the check at 3:24, giving me just under 2 hours to finish it up. We’ve walked 8 miles in 2 hours at the end of Boomer’s 2nd 50 when he’d given me such fits all day and worn himself out, resulting in a poor recovery at the previous check and me staying more than an hour to let him eat and rest. 6 miles ought to be a snap.

I was alone at first, trotting along under the moon on the wide trail. It was not too far along here when I saw my 2nd “thing” of the night and this time, I wonder if what I saw wasn’t a ghost. I could see a rider ahead of me, riding along the right edge of the road, the side above the river. I wondered why the rider was riding there when the road was so wide and had such good safe footing, unlike the edge that often had eroded places and holes. Before I could catch up to the pair, they were gone! I shook my head. Sure glad I was almost done.

I could see the rig for the pulls coming towards me in the distance. Super courteous driver—turned off their headlights so not to blind the oncoming riders. I hoped it would not be of much use. Unfortunately, it was used to haul out my gaited pal when they were pulled at the last check. So close! 4 were pulled at that 94 mile mark. What a heartbreaker.

I got to Hwy 49 with some other riders. It was manned by volunteers and a police officer. As we crossed, I noticed Boomer hesitating. It took me a moment to figure out what the problem was—he was worried about slipping and falling again. I let him carefully step across the road. He never slipped but he must have remembered that last encounter with the road and didn’t want a repeat. We were across safely and climbing up the trail, minutes from No Hands Bridge. Closer to the end. The moon was still very bright and blinding at times but now the dark of the night was starting to soften as dawn approached.

There were a few people at No Hands Bridge calling encouragement. I crossed it and enjoyed the moon. I couldn’t believe I was there and so close to the finish. Just a bit more. Boomer seemed to know where he was but he was so hungry that he was looking at every little thing along the trail as a possible snack. There wasn’t much and I told him that soon he’d be home and could have all he wanted. Several of us rode along in little groups and I found myself with my Big Horn friends. I joked about repeating our Big Horn finish. Sue had been told to walk her mare in but she went on to complete. Jack had gotten lost last year in these last miles, going overtime at the finish. There would be no repeat of that this year as he also completed (Sue said it was because she was there to keep him straight). I ended up passing them. We climbed to Robie Point and went back down and turned right. At this point, Boomer really knew he was almost done and he started moving out. Nice strong trot. I let him move out and soon we were alone again. Step by step, we got closer. The trail narrowed to single track with a drop-off on the left (by comparisons, it was a sissy drop-off!). I heard something on the upside of the trail scrambling. Great, something was about to spook my horse in the last mile and we are going to take a spill. But Boomer was on a mission and all he did was flick an ear to the side as he trotted along. I was told it was probably a bear and it did sound clumsier than a deer. Maybe it was a bear because had it been a deer, I’d have been on the ground because Boomer doesn’t do deer!

I could hear noise above and see the sky appearing brighter from artificial light. Another turn and we started the climb to the finish. Boomer stopped trotting because it was uphill and he was done with trotting up hills, even if he was almost home and could eat. We walked out of the trees and into the light and the waiting people. Cheers went up and I saw my brother Joe there smiling. We’d finished the 100 miles. Now to get through the final vet check.

Boomer didn’t want the water in the fancy trough. I didn’t waste time standing there but led him across the parking lot and then the little wooden bridge over the channeled water. The final vet check was being done in a field. There were water troughs set up and Boomer dragged me to one for a long drink. I took him towards the vet and asked if there was someone who could trot him out. My brother is not a horse person; he is good for holding but we didn’t practice trotting out. They found a volunteer happy to do the job. Turned out she was a friend of Sara’s and very happy to help one of the Florida riders. I pulled out my ride card and handed it over to the scribe and blinked when I recognized Judy Hall. How cool that Judy was there to see my finish. She and her husband Gary had opened up her home to me on 2 previous visits and patiently answered my questions about the ride. The vet completed the assessment and it was time for the fat lady to sing. Off Boomer went at a trot. It was beautiful!! He was moving freely and evenly and with IMPULSION!! I was so happy and stunned the same time. Boomer had done it!! We finished with 28 mins left on the clock too, 74th out of 96 completers. I hugged Judy a 2nd time as I left with Boomer and my brother.

The stunned joy I felt at the knowledge that we had completed Tevis stayed with me on our walk back to the fairgrounds. Boomer was still dragging me everywhere so I handed him off to my stronger and more rested brother. We went down to the stadium where I got on Boomer for the last time so we could do our victory lap. I was a goofball and got all into whooping and hollering and fist pumping as I crossed the finish line in the stadium. My finish line photo shows this “celebration” as Boomer sports an “Oh brother . . . like she trotted 100 miles or something” look. I got off once we finished and we walked up to the trailer to pull all the tack. My brother said he’d have carried it from the barn to the trailer but it was a bit far to do that and much easier to just get it done in one step.

The walk back to the barn was very dangerous as Boomer went for anything he thought he could eat. I was glad there were few people around, people who may have been carrying feed and hay. It would have gotten ugly. I got him back to the stall he’d been living in and he dove into the feed, hay, and water, moving all over as he went from one thing to another. This added an element of comedy as I attempted to poutice and wrap his legs. I got knocked over several times before it was all done. I had problems with the tape I use to secure the wraps. My brother assisted and I didn’t pay attention. When I looked, one leg was almost completely covered in tape! Definitely that bandage was secured!

My brother had already given me the bad news that Chris had been pulled at Franciscos for going overtime. That dampered my spirits. I had hoped she’d get ahead of the cutoffs and give up that dance with time but time had gotten her. Sara had an update at the barn. Chris was on her way back but Farley was awaiting transport. Both were OK and that was what was really important. Chris arrived to witness the knock down, drag out expo Boomer was doing to me as I wrapped his legs. She said she was OK but that trail had gotten to her when she found herself alone in the dark on the California loop and realized how freaking scary it was. She’d slowed to a crawl and had even gotten off Farley to lead him, thus being found by the drag riders who dragged her into Franciscos. She’s now an unofficial drag rider member.

There’s a post check 1-2 hours after your finish. It is mandatory. I dragged Boomer out at the one hour mark. The SC2 had gone to bed as had Chris so it was staggering me and my still hungry horse. Back to the stadium. Pulse was 60, eh, not too happy about that but the rest was OK including the trot. This is a safety check. The fact Boomer was mugging everyone and everything for food helped the vet not to worry about the 60 pulse. I’d had a fleece cooler on Boomer and that may have contributed to the pulse as it was still warm out, having never really cooled down. I pulled it off him once we got back. Boomer was very happy I did that because he could really roll and scratch those itchy places. I left him eating and drinking and rolling. He looked happy.

I then realized I’d screwed up. I wanted a shower. The showers were at the bottom of the hill below the barns. Where was my shower stuff? In the camper waaayyy across the fairgrounds, over by the railroad tracks. Uphill. Ugh. Nothing to do but hobble along. I crept along and when I got to the base of the hill, looked up. I now knew how Boomer felt. Another darn hill! It was a slow process but I got up the hill. It was past dawn now and pretty light. Life was stirring around me. At least I had my shower and post ride stuff all put together in a bag already. Just wished I had told my brother to grab it and take it to the barn. While I was at the rig, I got the handy dandy walking stick I’d bought but not yet used. I wanted it in case I felt unstable on my ankle as I was going around Auburn but hadn’t felt the need. I needed now. I crept along back to the showers, walking stick in hand. I’m sure I was a sight as I know how dirty I was. A volunteer at Deadwood had brought me a washcloth to clean my face. She said it was pretty bad then. It had now been over 9 hours and 32 miles since I last cleaned my face. We won’t discuss the amount of dust and grime on me. Glad they had a good drainage system in those showers! The shower was worth the effort and it felt wonderful to be clean and dry.

Before going to bed, I walked back up the hill to check on Boomer. Farley was back, having been put into his stall by the nice transporters. His head was up with ears pricked, looking at me as if to say “Whaz up!?!?” He had plenty of hay, feed, and water and seemed content and healthy. He also looked like he had a lot left in the tank. With the knowledge that both horses were set, I hiked to the camper, finally getting to bed at 8am, some 29 hours since I’d gotten up on Saturday. Yep, definitely a loooonnnnggggg day.