2018 AERC Convention

So I’m still catching up…March has been a busy month that’s seen me head down to Florida for the FITS ride for work (company rep), back home for a few days, and then off to Reno for the AERC Convention. Coming up, I’m catering one of my mom’s workshop events, and then will be setting up at The Mane Event expo here in Scottsdale at the end of the month. Whew.

In a nutshell, Florida was awesome, and I even got to sneak in a short training ride on some of the most beautiful footing I’ve ever seen.


Dandy Gold, a super-fun cutie Arab x QH mare. I fell in love with her, the same way I fall in love with all good horses.

AERC Convention

This was my 7th year attending the AERC Convention, and it was the best yet. I had some phenomenal help in running the Renegade Hoof Boots booth (Tim & Lara, who helped me out at Horse Expo last year, and are AZ-based long-time Renegade users/dealers, with Tim also being a trimmer), I got my annual All-You-Can-Eat sushi fix, it was probably the best-attended convention to date since I’ve started attending…and the topper…



I threw the vast majority of my tickets into the National, SW Region, and MT Region buckets — cool stuff in the National bucket (scored a $100 Riding Warehouse gift card out of that, as a matter of fact), and both SW and MT region had ride certificates up for grabs for rides I was likely to attend.

Only a few of my rather substantial number of tickets went into the separate Tevis entry drawing…just for fun. Because what are the odds, right?


Barbara White (holder of the record number of Tevis buckles) is my new best friend, because out of all those tickets in the bin to the left, she pulled mine out. That’s got to be good luck…
photo by Merri Melde

I still don’t know if my epically stunned face after the announcement was ever captured on camera, but I’m pretty sure that was a good minute+ of “wait, was that my name?” processing going on before I managed to make my feet move from where I had been standing. I also think that’s one of the first times I’ve been stunned into silence…normally I announce my excitement with ear-piercing shrieks. This time, I was reduced to nonsensical babbling.

Four days later, I’m still pinching myself. I actually have the Tevis entry printed out and sitting next to my desk. Not filled out yet, obviously, but I’ve got time, and I’ve already reached out to my endurance network to see if anyone has a spare horse they’d like ridden…I’ve got ideas, and a possibility or two in the pipeline, so it’ll be interesting to see how the next few months shake out. All I know is, this is my 10th year attending Tevis, and I can’t think of a more fitting way to celebrate that than to ride it, God willing.

Obviously, winning the entry was the absolute highlight of the weekend, but even without that, it would have been an outstanding weekend. Reno is my favorite place to have the Convention (even if the hotel was more smoke-filled than I’ve ever experienced…even in the “nonsmoking” rooms, the stale smoke smell permeates the entire place), if only for the fact so many of my endurance friends attend. And it seemed like in was really well-attended this year. Definitely more vendors than in the last few years, and while I can’t speak for other vendors, I know we had a steady stream of people at the Renegade booth all weekend.


Working the booth. Not sure what I was in the middle of doing or saying.
photo by Merri Melde

Tim & Lara were great to work with — they’ve been using the boots for almost as long as I have, and Tim is a trimmer, so is an incredibly knowledgeable resource to have available, as he can directly address trimming questions that people may have, or take a barefoot horse-keeping conversation far deeper and more involved than just “how do I put the boot on?”

I had a new display format for this year — a popup display with velcro-receptive fabric panels that allows me to print out photos/posters, attach velcro to them, and then change them out at will or to match a particular event/discipline. I really like it, and although I had to play some major “photo Tetris” while setting everything set up, the end result looked phenomenal.

I also did my annual “drool over ReactorPanel Saddles” booth visit. I finally got to ride in one down in Florida, and it totally sold me on them. I think I’ve finally narrowed down my favorites to the Tribute Trail with the endurance knee blocks (which, curiously enough, on a sawhorse, I’m like, “meh” about…but on a moving horse, they are phenomenal), or the HTT (flapless Heraldic on Tribute Tree) with the scooped bumps. Methinks I need to buy some raffle tickets for the RP drawing at Tevis this year. Because raffle luck…

Reno is also known as the AYCE (All You Can Eat) sushi capital of the world, so it’s become somewhat of an annual tradition for a group of us to go out one evening. And it’s really fun with a larger group (we had 10 this time), because you end up ordering so many different varieties, and getting to try everything.


yummmmmm — AYCE sushi at Jazmine

I also had to keep my resident tack ho status firmly in place, and came home with a pair of mohair reins from Wild West Endurance Company (formerly Hooves N Whiskers), and a saddle pad and Myler bit scored from the tack swap. (I also brought stuff to sell at the tack swap and most of it sold, so the karmic sales/purchase ratio remains in balance.)


Shopping and drooling. The purple/black/natural braid is a sample of the same colors as my reins. I want the black/turquoise combo on a future chestnut, though.

I failed to get any photos of getting dressed up for the Saturday night awards dinner, but I wore a dress, and had sparkly glitter high heels. I can wear more than just riding tights and running clothes.

I’ve learned the hard way not to schedule early morning flights out of Reno, since Saturday inevitably turns into a late night…that always coincides with the changing of the clocks for Daylight Saving Time. That’s one hour of lost sleep I’m never gonna get back.

Anyway…flight out wasn’t until the afternoon, so I could sleep in a bit, grab breakfast, and then wander down to catch the last hour+ of the AERC board of director’s meeting, which was quite interesting. I ran for SW Region director this past election cycle and didn’t make it, which I look at now and realize was a good thing. I would have been eaten alive. You have to have some pretty thick skin to be on the board, and not be afraid of confrontation and conflict. So maybe not now…but maybe in a few years. I like that they open up the meeting to members, so if I attend a few more of those and get a better feel for how the whole thing works, I’ll be in a better spot down the road to run and subsequently hold my own if elected.

Flying home was uneventful, even if Sky Harbor airport was an absolute madhouse zoo coming home. I think my parents will thank me if I can avoid flying home on a Sunday evening again any time in the near future, since that’s two Sundays in a row they faced down hellacious airport traffic for me. ;)

Starting now, my goal is to cram in as much saddle time as I can…I’ll be chasing down catch rides left and right, in addition to seeing what the pony may be feeling up to in-between. I’m also planning to up my fitness/workout regime to more than the 2x/week I do now, so that no matter what horse I end u[ riding, I know that I’ll be ready for it.

Plus, I’ve got new toys to play with…not that I need any excuse for good saddle time.

Ride Story: Tonto Twist 50


photo by Susan Kordish, Cowgirl Photography

Alternate titles:

“Not According to Plan”
“How Not To Start Off Your Ride Season”
“At Least We Did An LD”
“Did We Get the Bad Stuff Out of the Way Early?”

In short: Lameness pull after the first 30-mile loop. <insert lots of sad trombone noises here> Minor, but consistent, on the right front…the same RF the vet was looking at suspiciously on Friday at vet-in.

Lesson #1: Always trot the horse out at home before you load them into the trailer.

Of course, this doesn’t preclude them from bonking themselves in the trailer along the way, or thrashing on the high-tie, or stepping wrong on the pre-ride, or…or…or…

In short, I still have no idea what happened. No heat, swelling, or reactions to anything on his shoulder or leg. Current working theory is maybe some lingering foot soreness from trimming, because he displayed more of a consistent choppiness/short-striding on that leg versus a pronounced head-bob/limp.

Lesson #2: You will second-guess yourself about everything. Welcome to endurance.

Every pull, I armchair quarterback. I look back and go, “What could I have done different? If I had done such-and-such, could I have changed the outcome?” And then there’s the dangerous path of “maybe I should have just played it safe and never tried.” Because that comes with its own set of “What ifs” to the tune of, “What if I had tried and it worked? Now I’ll never know…”

Yes, endurance riding can sometimes be a metaphor for life.

Luck wasn’t on my side this time around, so it didn’t all go as I had hoped…but I know myself well enough to know that if I had elected to not start, I would have spent the whole weekend wondering.


settled in camp; time for a pre-ride

So, to the actual ride. Originally, the plan was for Barb to ride K-Man and for me to take Junior. Middle of the week, she texts me that plans changed…she and K had an incident while clipping, with the end result being her on the ground and one very bruised and sore body/tailbone. In other words, “50 miles in the saddle wasn’t going to happen.” But I should still take the rig and Junior and go to the ride.

Ooookay, then. Nothing like mixing things up a bit. Fun fact: This would only be the second time going to a ride all by myself, in 12 years of endurance. I guess I’m pretty adaptable, because I like going with a ride buddy, but I was also okay by myself. It was kind of nice/different to be able to operate entirely on my own schedule/timeline and feel that independent.

This ride won the award for “closest and most convenient ride ever” — only half an hour away from my house, and a little over an hour away from Barb’s. Friday morning saw me gathering up all my stuff (including a last-minute “bring all the jackets I can find” round of packing in response to the 60% chance of rain now being forecast for Saturday) and heading up to pick up the horse and the rig. Got everything transferred over to the trailer, loaded up Junior, and we were on our way. I even got to drag the trailer through my hated nemesis of a freeway exit, which features two roundabouts instead of our standard stoplights. So dumb, so confusing, and so not made for large trailers. But we did it, without a single curb check or running anyone else out of their lane. Not bad for only my 6th time hauling a gooseneck.

In camp, I set up next to some friends, got Junior settled in with food and water, got the lay of the land and some socialization in, fitted and adjusted Junior’s boots, then saddled up for a short, “blow out the cobwebs” pre-ride.


heading out to pre-ride; those are the Superstition Mountains

One of the things I really appreciate about Junior is how solid he is under saddle. Tacking up, he was all kinds of squirrely and fidgety, but as soon as my butt hit the saddle, he was all business, marching through camp and out to the trails. We got a good stretch in, and Junior felt strong and happy to be out. Back to camp, and I checked in, got my vet card (all printable material such as maps had been emailed to riders ahead of time so that we could print out as much or little as we needed/wanted, and management had extras on-site if needed, but it was really nice to have that material before the ride), then fetched Junior for vetting in.

He felt so good when we were pre-riding, so needless to say I was completely thrown for a loop when the vet said, “trot him again, I think there’s something on the right front.”

Uggghhhh. In my experience, being asked to trot out again has rarely ended well.

After going again, the vet said there was something really subtle there…subtle enough that if it was during at at the finish of the ride, she certainly wouldn’t pull me…but something to be aware of at the start of the ride, and she wouldn’t prevent me from starting.

Back at the trailer, I immediately called Barb and detailed out what was going on. After chatting for a bit, she ultimately told me to go ahead and start, and if he was off along the way, pull him. He was completely nonreactive to any poking or prodding of his leg and shoulder, and his movement (slightly “short” on that side), coupled with Barb’s comment he had seemed slightly sore a couple days after trimming when she had taken him out the weekend before, had me contemplating if maybe he had some bruising or soreness.

To that end, I promptly starting digging through my supplies for anything I could use to make some pads for his boots. After some digging, I ended up jerrying rigging something together out of spare heel captivator liners, duct tape, and double-sided carpet tape. Not pretty, but certainly innovative…

By the time I got that project all wrapped up, it was time for the potluck dinner and ride meeting. And boy do people know how to potluck. There was a huge spread of food set out, with all manner of main dishes and sides (and desserts). No problem with going hungry here…or worries about dropping below your weight division.


if you find a buddy to share the chocolate-chip cheesecake with, it doesn’t count

The ride meeting went over the usual — trail markings, water stops, check points, loops (there were 3 — 30/14/6 miles, with a 1-hour hold between loops 1 and 2, and a gate-n-go check between 2 and 3) — although this ride would feature something new: the option to use the “Ride With GPS” app, a turn-by-turn audio track of the trail. The trail was fully marked with traditional ribbons, but we were going to be using some highly-populated, very popular shared trails (other horsepeople, hikers, bikes, ATVs, jeeps, campers), and there was some concerns about removal of trail markers, or the potential for sabotage. Having the app on our phone would give it turn-by-turn directions along the way and act as a back-up in case of questions.

The subject is really deserving of its own post, but the CliffNotes version is that I overall liked the idea. A few times, I got a bit tired of listening to my phone yapping at me so frequently — the directions were very detailed — but I’m also coming from the perspective of knowing and being very familiar with probably a good 85-90% of the trails that were being used and I tend to have a good sense of direction. But what was nice was hearing the voice telling me to do something, see a ribbon, and keep going, versus the worry of “I haven’t seen a ribbon for a while…am I still on the right trail?”

Post-briefing, I took Junior out for one last stroll around camp (the Tour de Water Troughs), tucked him in with a fresh bag of hay, and retreated to the trailer to tuck myself in. With a 7am ride start, I didn’t have to be up ridiculously early — 5am left me plenty of time to dress, walk and feed Junior, feed myself, and get tacked up. I put his newly-padded boots on, and trotted him out in-hand…and he looked good. I had told myself that if he was still off, even after the pads, I wouldn’t start. But he looked good, and when I hopped aboard and walked and trotted him around, he felt good. So off to check-in at the start we went.

Junior is also a really good boy at the start. Will walk out on a loose rein, no matter how many horses around him. But when you trot, you had better be ready, because it will not be a quiet little 5mph dib-dib jog. Nope, the turbo will kick on, and he’ll be ready to roll. He’s one of those horses whose natural, comfortable speed is a little bit on the faster end of the scale, and it’s taken me some time to get used to that and re-calibrate my own internal speedometer, which is used to a much slower default setting. But the more I’ve gotten used to it, the more fun I’m having, and the more comfortable overall I’m becoming in the saddle “at speed” so to speak.

We had a controlled start out out base camp, and through several hundred yards of single-track trail that opened up into a wider, double-track road, at which point we were turned loose. Junior had gotten a nice walking warm-up in, so as soon as we hit the road, I let him trot out, and we actually had our own little space bubble in fairly short order. The first several miles went by really fast — mostly good footing and fairly flat as we made our way up to the Goldfield Mountains and the pass that would take us through the mountains out spit us out on the north side of them.


photo by Susan Kordish/Cowgirl Photography

Photographers Sue and John Kordish were waiting for us part of the way up a steep slickrock climb, and, as always, got some amazing ride photos. I love tackling technical trail on a solid, athletic, trail-savvy horse, and Junior scampered up the rock like no big deal.


photo by Susan Kordish/Cowgirl Photography

Once at the top of the climb, we started hitting the more technical, rocky, slower-going sections of the trail. But we were also on the top of a ridgeline overlooking the most amazing spread of desert and mountain ranges.


who cares about going slower with that kind of view?!


there’s all kinds of legends and lore of gold in the Superstition Mountains (look up the Lost Dutchman mine if you’re curious), but I got a different kind of gold this morning

The predicted clouds and cold front also started rolling in more enthusiastically by this time, and what had started out as breezy, with a few wisps of clouds, was rapidly turning into full cloud cover with a cold wind.


got rocks? I think I found where I need to go when I want to practice for Virginia City

Fortunately Junior was pretty agreeable about pacing, and had enough experience and trail sense to slow down on his own in the worst of it, and was willing to listen to my suggestions of “no, we are going to walk this section” when requested.


there’s some sort of cave tucked in that rock formation behind the saguaro

The trail wound us through a wash, and eventually spit us out onto a forest service road. We’d been warned about it — rocky, hard-packed, would probably make people grumble…but also the only way for the trails to be connected and for the ride to happen. It wasn’t dissimilar to the road on the 50 at Man Against Horse, so I just employed the same strategy — trot when you can, walk everything else. We had our own space bubble by that point, and Junior just motored along, steadily eating up the miles as we made our way through the mountain pass and down to Bulldog Canyon.

Bulldog Canyon is about 4 miles of mostly sand wash…take it far enough, and you run into the Salt River, but today, we were heading uphill in the opposite direction. We had caught up to a few people at this point, and four of us took advantage of being off the slow-going road and moved up into a trot and canter through the wash. The company was nice at this point, because there were campers set up out there, so you’d come around a blind turn and there would be a huge campsite set-up off to the side, and more than one horse was somewhat startled by the slightly unusual sight.


along the road; once we were clear of it, I didn’t end up taking any more pics due to the “moving out and making time” factor

Just a short way up the wash, we had our first water stop and checkpoint, 12 miles in. They also had hay and carrots, so we stayed there for several minutes. Junior drank a little bit, peed, ate several carrots, and chowed down on some hay. There wasn’t much to eat along the trail, so having hay at most of the stops was very welcome, and well worth the extra few minutes of stopping.

The next stop was 4 miles away, at the main trailhead/entrance area to Bulldog Canyon. It’s gorgeous footing, and the wash isn’t too deep, so we had fun boogieing through this section. We were also on my familiar turf now — I’ve ridden Bulldog multiple times, so know what to expect and where we were going. We had a bit of trail traffic through here — it’s a popular off-roading destination for ATVs and jeeps — but everyone was courteous and polite about passing/yielding the trail.

Into the water stop at 16 miles, Junior drank really well, and settled in with a nice flake of alfalfa. They also had volunteers there handing out Platinum flax snack bars for the horses (Junior approved) and trail mix and fruit to the riders. I got a water bottle re-filled, and downed a packet of trail mix while Junior ate. Another 5 minutes there, but Junior ate the whole time, and then when he was ready, he moved himself away from the hay and back towards the trail. Okay, then…on we go. We had our own space bubble back at this point, and picked up the trail that would take us into Usery Mountain Park.

Ah, some of my home trails. I’ve been riding, running, and hiking these trails for probably close to 20 years now, and I love them. Lots of single-track that twists and turns, climbs and drops…mostly good footing, and definitely a trail to enjoy if you have an athletic, agile horse. Lots of trail traffic here — Usery is a major county regional park, so very popular with hikers and bikers, especially on the weekends. I passed numerous hikers in this section, and everyone was really polite and curious.

Management had done a ton of advertising about the ride ahead of time, and there were signs posted at all of the trailhead access points, informing trail users of an event going on that day. That said, we were still on shared trails — and while horses always have the right of way, I try to be cognizant of not abusing that right. Yes, we were in a competition setting…but that doesn’t mean “run over everything in your way.” Part of being out on these trails and using them is to be ambassadors for the sport. Stopping and walking by hikers, exchanging greetings, or even pausing to give a brief explanation of what you’re doing, all go a long way towards building and keeping good trail relationships. They also tend to get a kick out of seeing Junior’s Renegades — I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Hey, those look like Crocs for horses!” or “That horse has hiking boots on!” over the years when using Renegades. Again — it becomes something they can relate to (special gear that has a purpose, just like their own hiking boots) and fosters that sense of trail community.

Okay, PSA over…I just feel like because I’m on shared-use trails so much, I spend a lot of time on trail practicing said etiquette, building community relations, and educating people about trail sharing, so it’s something that’s a pretty big part of my riding (and running) life.

Mile 20, at one of the Usery trailheads, we had another water stop and checkpoint. Junior had done so well in the eating department at the last one that we just stayed here for a couple minutes, long enough to get a drink and to wait for a very large group of hikers to come in off the trail. Back on the trail, this was one of the super-flat, easy sections that eventually ended up at the “Channel” trail — a completely flat, perfect footing trail at the base of a flood control levee. It’s one of the most fun trails for a straightaway canter…and Junior thought so, too.


from a training ride with Mimi, the “Channel” trail…for years, I have longed to canter this trail in a ride setting…got my wish

It was one of those “superbly in sync with the horse” moments…he was locked on to the trail and focused on nothing but moving ahead, I was balanced and super-secure, and we flew down that stretch. So much fun, and I’m pretty sure I was giggling with glee when we finally pulled up and got back on more single-track trail.

And right about this time, the predicted rain caught us. It started as just noticed a spot of water or two on my saddle pommel, and then a couple drops on my arms. So out came the jacket again, and as we made our way closer to camp, the rain started coming down heavier. Apparently getting wet at numerous events in 2017 wasn’t enough…we have to carry the tradition forward into the new year.

Volunteers stationed at all the road crossings made it super safe and easy to get across the roads (3 of them) on the way back to base camp. One last water stop at Prospector Park, just a couple miles from camp. It was raining quite steadily now, and the last couple miles into camp got a bit interesting. Junior threw a mutiny, basically…sulked his way out of the water stop because there was only water there, and no hay, and he decided at that moment he was starving as he tried to grab bites of nasty dry desert vegetation on our way out. He also isn’t a fan of the rain or the cold. I had a rump rug on him, but he still wasn’t amused, and I could also feel him hesitating slightly on one side, especially at the trot when I would post on that right diagonal. Crap. Combination of all those factors = equine mutiny.

I was pretty sure I knew what would happen when we got back to camp, but also had decided that if the vets didn’t pull us, I would…even if the last 20 miles were much easier, and way kinder footing, I’ve ridden Junior enough to know he is not a “pedal” horse…the fact I was having to pedal him, even that close to camp, meant he was telling me in the only way he knew how that he was done for the day.

We pulsed down as soon as we got in to the check, and he was already down to 56, and the vet said he looked phenomenal — all As on metabolics, fantastic gut sounds (those minutes at the stops to let him eat paid off)…but when we trotted out, agreed that there was something on that right front, and it was a more apparent than at vet-in. Given what she saw, and my own feeling, and the fact that, as much as a pull sucks, I would rather be safe than sorry, especially with someone else’s horse, we reached a mutual “He’s pulled” decision. I think the vet was almost as sad as I was, because she commented multiple times on how good he looked otherwise, and his metabolics were amazing.

Meanwhile, it was still raining, so back at the trailer, I did a quick yank of all of Junior’s tack and bundled him up in a couple layers of fleeces and blankets and installed a mash and more hay in front of him while I scuttled around cleaning everything up. Somewhere along the way, the trailer batteries had stopped holding a charge…so if the sun was out, the solar panels provided enough juice to run everything…but since it was raining and completely cloud-covered, the batteries were completely tapped out. Which meant nothing worked (and the carbon monoxide detector was chirping like crazy with its low-power warning)…no water pump, no water heater, no shower…how quickly I’ve gotten spoiled. :)


ghetto-blanketing…no neck cover? just add a second blanket and strap it around the neck

Couple all of that with the fact it was still raining, and Junior was standing outside and pouting and shivering, I looked at the clock and figured I had enough time to pack everything up, drive Junior and the rig back to Barb’s, and then drive back to the ride for the rest of the afternoon and for dinner. So that’s what I did. Junior got some more recovery time while I worked on getting everything packed up and wrapped up (why does it take so much longer in the rain to pack everything up?), then I loaded him up and we headed back.


back home…sun was shining, he was feeling fine enough to chase K-Man around, and he got mash leftovers

Once home, he was feeling good enough to chase K-Man around the pasture and away from the mash leftovers. I got everything unpacked and spread out to dry in the now-shining sun, and all my stuff thrown into my truck, then headed back down to the ride to hang out for the rest of the afternoon. It was so worth coming back for the dinner (homemade Indian fry bread tacos), and it was wonderful to see such a large turnaround stick around for the dinner and awards.

Of course I’m disappointed in the pull (sucks when it’s your own horse, doubly sucks when it’s someone else’s), but I couldn’t be happier with the ride itself. Management was absolutely top-notch, and you would have never known it was a first-time ride. Normally they come with some growing pains and things to be ironed out for subsequent years, but I honestly can’t think of anything I would have changed on this ride. Well, except for maybe the getting rained on part. I loved having a ride so close by, on trails I know so well. This felt like a classic endurance ride — challenging in some areas, and super fun in others. Really hoping it sticks around and becomes part of the regular AZ ride circuit.

Renegade Pro-Comp Glue-Ons at VC100


Striding out; I guess she likes her boots. Photo by Gore-Baylor Photography.

After 11 years of competing in Renegade Hoof Boots, I did something a little bit different: used the Renegade Pro-Comp Glue-Ons when I did Virginia City 100.

Up to this point, I’ve never felt a need to bother with gluing on. All of the strap boots I’ve used (both Classic and Viper models) have worked well, and any problems have been minor, easily resolvable, and/or a side effect of being a part of the R&D process.

But 100 miles over lots of rocks is a different kettle of fish. To help mitigate the effects of the concussion from that much hard-pack surface, as well as the rocks, I really wanted to use the pour-in gel pads Renegade offers. For most horses and most circumstances, they’re not necessary…but these were not usual circumstances. The downside to the gel pads is they do take up some space inside the boot where the hoof would normally seat. On some horses, it doesn’t seem to make a difference, but on others, it can change the fit enough so that boot retention becomes more of a challenge. Using the glue-ons in conjunction with the gel pads would (hopefully) mitigate that and be one less thing for me to obsess over during the ride. (All that said, strap Renegades have been used at Virginia City 100 before and successfully completed the ride.)


“care package” from work: all the hoofwear a girl can dream of (glue-ons, extra glue-ons, and strap Vipers to carry as spares)


The Gluing Process

I follow the basic protocols as outlined on the Renegade page: http://www.renegadehoofboots.com/glueon.html, with a couple of modifications along the way to accommodate using the gel pads.

Gluing is pretty much a three-handed job, so I didn’t end up with any pictures of the process other than the finished product, but the videos in the above link give a really good visual demonstration.

Hoof prep is critical. I can just about guarantee that the vast majority of glue-on losses are from either insufficient/incorrect prep, or the wrong size.

Supplies– Renegade Pro-Comp Glue-Ons
– Vettec Adhere glue
– Vettec Dispenser gun (I really like the Deluxe one)
– Vettec mixing tips (I allow at least 2/hoof, plus extras for ‘oops’ moments)
– 36-grit sandpaper (I use 3M “Green Corp” file sheets, which have a mineral blend in them that makes for a sharp-edged grit that will actually score into the hoof, versus a rounded grain that will polish it)
– sanding block
denatured alcohol (rubbing alcohol is not the same)
– small spray bottle
– paper towels
– latex gloves (unless you want to be peeling glue off your fingers for the next week)
– flathead screwdriver
– rasp
– hoof stand (optional, especially if you have a clean, flat surface)
– hoof nippers (or straight edge blade; these are to cut the tip off the Adhere

– Extra Helper (it is possible to glue by one’s self, especially with a very well-behaved horse, but it is so much easier to have a helper there to hold the horse, or pick up a leg, or hand you something)

  • Start with a well-trimmed, well-balanced hoof. Make sure all hoof wall edges are rolled, and that any flare is removed.
  • Begin prepping the hoof wall. Using the smooth side of the rasp, clean off the face of the hoof wall, including back to the heels. (Stay clear of the coronary band and at least 1/2″ below it.)
  • Sand the hoof wall. This is a critical step. The rough sandpaper creates micro-grooves in the hoof, which in effect gives a larger surface area to which the glue can bond. When in doubt, sand more.
  • “Dry fit” the boots to each hoof. Make sure they are a good fit, or if they need modifying. The sidewalls/glue flange of the boot can be trimmed to improve the fit.
    • The most common modification is cutting “v notches” at the toe quarters to adjust the toe angle.
  • Gel Pad Modification: Because the gel pads allow more “movement” of the hoof as it sinks into the gel pad upon landing, this is a really important modification in order to help maintain the glue bond and give the boot multiple points of attachment. If the boot shape needs modifying, use the v-notch method. If the boot is a good fit, then just make two vertical splits, one at each toe quarter. This will allow the boot to better follow the hoof movement without cracking the glue bond at the quarters. (If it does crack, the boot is held on securely at the toe, and because of the splits in the boot, it will not keep cracking the bond all the way up to the toe.)

the split can be seen, especially on the left boot, at the inside toe quarter

  • Once the boots are dry fit, scuff the glue flange with sandpaper. They come from the factory already pre-scuffed, but another few swipes with rough sandpaper is that much more grip.
  • Apply latex gloves and spray the boots with denatured alcohol and wipe them out with paper towels. Try not to handle the glue flange after it has been wiped down, and do not touch any of the inside of the boot with bare hands, or it will leave oils and residues. Set boots aside.
  • Spray the hoof with denatured alcohol and thoroughly wipe clean with paper towels. I like to put a spare glue-on on the hoof at this time to keep it clean; otherwise, you’ll want to make sure they stand very still on a clean surface like a piece of cardboard or linoleum square.
  • Assemble glue in dispenser, nip off the sealed tip, equalize the cartridge, and attach the mixing tip.
  • Gel Pad Modification: Apply the glue to the toe glue flange. Set glue gun aside, slide the spare glue-on (if using) off the hoof, and apply the prepped boot to the hoof, making sure it is well-seated at the toe and the tread pattern is aligned with the central sulcus. Carefully either set the hoof down or bring it forward and up onto the hoof stand. (If they fidget or are prone to try to twist the hoof, use the stand method.)
  • Gel Pad Modification, step 2: If the hoof was up on the stand, set it on the ground. Now use the flathead screwdriver to pry the sidewall flange away from the hoof at the quarters; insert the mixing tip and squeeze glue into the space between boot wall and hoof wall on both quarters. (If it took a couple minutes to get the toe gluing done, you may need to change the glue tip — if the glue does not easily flow, it has started setting up in the tip and a new one should be used.)
    • This two-step method also really minimizes the amount of glue that can get under the hoof wall, since the most common spot for that to occur is at the quarters, when the hoof is shoved into the boot, and can scrape the glue off the wall. Having the hoof flat on the ground means there’s nowhere for the glue to go but the space between hoof wall and boot wall.
  • Give the boot several minutes to set up and move on to the next hoof. Repeat the same steps from cleaning with denatured alcohol onward.
  • Allow a couple hours of quiet time for the glue to really cure, but Adhere is fast-setting and I’ve seen boots glued on the night before a ride without any problems.

The finished job


Removing the boots can be fairly strait forward, or more time-consuming. They are intended as a single-use product, as it is difficult, or at least time-consuming, to remove all of the old glue from the boots, and a re-glue rarely bonds as well as a brand-new boot.

The quick-n-dirty way is to take a straight edge blade (like a box cutter) and cut along the spot where the boot wall meets the boot sole. The bottom can then be popped off, and the side walls peeled away from the hoof wall with hoof nipper or pliers.

If you really want to save the boots (either for re-use or, like I did, R&D purposes), then it’s the old “screwdriver and mallet” process: Insert flathead screwdriver at a point between hoof wall and boot wall (I find it easiest to start at the quarters), tap with mallet until it cracks the glue, work your way around the hoof.

An alternate to this, thanks to a suggestion from Lucy, is to use a tool used for changing out motorcycle tires — a “tire spoon.” It has a rounded head on it that has a slight curve — position it properly and it actually curves away from the hoof wall, preventing gouging into the wall.


Why I wanted to “save” the boots — to see wear patterns in the gel pads, as well as glue in the boots. Nothing under the hooves, and I had an equal mix of glue that stuck to the hoof and what stuck to the boot.


Tread wear. Not bad for 76 miles of very rough trail.

Personal Thoughts/Wrap-Up/Misc Notes

They stayed put for 76 very rocky miles, and as tough as they were to get off, I doubt the last 24 (easier) miles would have done anything to budge them.

For a trail that eats hoofwear (I saw all manner of boots, multiple brands, laying along the trail), I am extremely pleased with how my gluing process did. I don’t particularly like gluing — it’s kind of a pain, especially when you have strap boots that are easy to apply and stay on — but glue-ons do have their place, and it’s a good tool to keep in my arsenal of tricks.

Beeba had one hoof that was a little funky in how it sized — the 0 was way too tight, but the 1 was a little looser than I would have liked. But the same principle applies to fitting Glue-Ons as the strap boots — loose is better than tight; a bit of excess space can always be filled with Adhere, but too tight of a boot will end up popping off the hoof. It was the right front, and in the photos above, you can see how much extra glue I ended up using, and I was never pleased with how it looked…but it stayed on.

I experienced a slight panic attack crimp in my plans when a major storm came through where we were camping the Wednesday before the ride, flooding the horses stalls and making soggy hooves unavoidable. Crap. This was problematic on multiple levels:

  • Wet hooves are soft hooves. Soft hooves over over 100 miles of rock would be more sensitive and susceptible to bruising, even with the protection of boots.
  • Hoof moisture levels can change hoof sizes. Wet = larger, dry = smaller. Potentially not good for the glue bond.
  • While a “normal” level of moisture in the hoof is actually beneficial for glue adhesion, “soggy” is not. But I’m also not a fan of heat guns//torches to force-dry the hoof. Not only is that level of extreme dryness unnecessary, it’s really taking a risk with some very delicate, temperature-sensitive hoof structures. People do it all the time, but I prefer to leave creme brulee as a dessert technique. Denatured alcohol does a really good job of drying out excess moisture from the hoof, as well as removing any oils and residues on the surface.

So I dumped a bag of shavings in the stall to sop up any excess water, sent a couple of texts to the bosses to go over gluing protocols, got reassured that some extra denatured alcohol would take care of the problem, and tried to put aside my worries for the rest of the evening.

The next day dawned sunny and breezy, which dried things out in no time, so some of my concerns started fading. I did a couple sprays of denatured alcohol on Beeba’s hooves before we loaded up to head over to ridecamp, and between that, the trailer ride over, and then hanging out on the very dry parking lot at camp, by the time I was ready to glue on Thursday afternoon, any excess moisture levels were a total non-issue.

This has been a summer of gluing for me, between practice rounds on Mimi, and gluing for/at the Tevis Ed Ride. It’s not hard, per se…it really just takes being able to follow directions, be organized, and have the right tools.

Ride Story: Virginia City 100


photo by Gore-Baylor Photography

I still don’t know the exact clear, concise words to use to describe my Virginia City experience, other than there will be a lot of them. It was an absolutely amazing adventure, with highs and lows, and enough “highlight” moments seared in my brain to last a really long time.

Long story short: We did get pulled at 76 miles. We were overtime to be able to make it through the last loop in enough time, but Beeba was also off on the right hind at the trot. We went in knowing that a finish was an extremely tall order: it was the first 100 for both myself and Beeba, and we had picked a notoriously difficult 100. Nothing like a challenge, right?

It ended up being one of the most amazing ride experiences to date. I am completely in love with the “over 50” distance; had we had the time and been cleared to go, I would have been completely ready to tackle that last loop.

Advice that I got from a friend for doing 100s was “start with a horse you really like spending time with.” That was certainly the case with Beeba. Three conditioning rides ahead of time had me firmly convinced I liked the mare; after 76 miles and a ride environment, that relationship is solidified even more. Maybe I’m just drawn to horses with “interesting” personalities, but some of my favorites in my life have been mares with very strong personalities.

I’ve long-suspected that I would enjoy 100s — that was the main goal when I got into endurance, after all, but sometimes the reality ends up being different than the expectation. Well, I loved it. We didn’t get the full 100 miles (yet!), but I loved the mentality of even being entered in a hundred. On a ride that is a “standalone” 100 like Tevis or Virginia City, there is a different vibe than a multi-distance ride. Endurance is already a small group, but the world of 100-milers feels even more special, like you’re a part of something really unique. I’ve been on the periphery of that vibe with the number of times I’ve crewed Tevis, but standing there listening to the ride meeting as one of the riders was really something else. It’s taken me over 10 years in the sport, but I feel like I really found my niche with this distance. It’s like every fiber of my being was screaming “This is why you’ve been doing this for the past decade!

There’s also a different mentality that happens during the ride. When I’m doing an LD, 25 miles kind of seems like “huh, that’s a bit of a ways.” But 25 miles was our first vet check, and when we hit it, it didn’t seem like it was that long. Same with going out on the second loop after 51 miles. Normally I’m used to being done at 50, so around 46 miles, I start thinking “almost done” or “are we done yet?”. This time, I didn’t feel that same mental fatigue…I felt like I was definitely in the right “head space” for tackling a hundred.

There is no question that VC is a very challenging ride. This year in particular was especially challenging — an extremely wet winter took a toll on the trail, leaving behind a lot of erosion and even more rocks than normal. Multiple time finishers concurred afterwards that this was the toughest they’ve seen the trail in recent history. So I feel extremely good about getting as far as we did, and like everyone said, we did the hard part.

A week-long adventure makes for one heck of a story, so this’ll probably be a bit long-winded and disjointed as I try to gather my thoughts together into something of a cohesive fashion.

If you missed the earlier blog posts about the subject, my Virginia City story started with the offer from my friend Kim to take her mare to the ride. Kim was already planning to go to the ride, and offered to take her mare Beeba along if I wanted to ride. The mare hadn’t done a 100, and as Kim put it, “The stars will all have to align for her to finish” but she was available if I was interested.

Actually, back up a little bit: the whole idea of riding VC started percolating at Tevis this year. Since it was the 50th anniversary, excitement was already running high for it, and the Sunday after Tevis, Lucy started dropping hints at the awards banquet about how I should see if I could ride it this year (actually, a little less subtle than hints…she was straight out farming me out to people who might have an extra horse, or know someone with an extra horse…).

Anyway, whatever vibes she put out there must have worked, because it was that next week after I got back from Tevis that I got the offer from Kim. And so the adventure began. We had about a month before VC, so I was able to get three good training rides in on Beeba. I  enjoyed riding her right from the get-go, since, although she’s got an attitude (“chestnut mare”), she’s sensible and not spooky, which are the kind of horses I get along with the best.

Since Virginia City is a good 900 miles from Phoenix, we were splitting the drive into two days, as well as adding an extra day in there to give the horses some more recovery time. We were also going to be participating in a research study in conjunction with the ride on dehydration and weight loss in endurance horses — horses were to be weighed within a couple of days before leaving home, then weighed upon arrival to the ride, and then throughout the ride at all the major vet checks, and then at the end. It was really fascinating to see the numbers fluctuate, and once the results are emailed to us, I’ll do a separate blog post about the subject.

Our small caravan (Kim, her husband Garry [crew], and myself had the 3 horses: Nort [Kim], Beeba [me], and Lily [Andrea]; Andrea [the third rider in our group] and her husband Mike [crew], and their 3 dogs had all of the hay and extra gear in their trailer so that the 3 horses could travel together) left Tuesday morning, on the road by 7.

(Leaving was not without some drama on my end first: Mimi colicked Monday night, and I ended up having to bring the vet out Tuesday [coordinating all of this while I’m on the road] to clear up what was a minor impaction…she was all good by Tuesday evening, but that was some major stress and anxiety for me most of the day Tuesday.)

We drove about 9 hours to our first overnight stop in Tonopah, NV. There’s a nice rodeo grounds on the outskirts of the town, so we were able to turn the horses out in the arena for a leg stretch several times, and they had nice stalls to overnight in. It was also close enough to be able to unhitch the truck and make a grocery run into town. Some weather blew in during the evening, and we had off and on thunderstorms all night long.

Hmmm. My weather curse apparently *hasn’t* broken yet. Might as well resign myself to getting rained on at some point at every significant event I do this year.

Wednesday was a shorter drive, about 5 hours up to Washoe Lake State Park, only about 30 minutes away from ridecamp. Camp didn’t open until 2pm Thursday, so this was as close as we could get while still getting that extra recovery day. Washoe has a great horse camp set-up, though — we had a couple of covered stalls, plus another arena to turn them out.

Once we got the horses settled, we made a quick run into town (Carson City) to the Tractor Supply Company for a few forgotten items (kind of digging this whole “nearby conveniences” thing on this trip), and by the time we got back to Washoe, a major storm was blowing in. And by major, I mean about an inch and half of rain in less than a couple hours, bean-sized hail, thunder, lightning, and apparently some mini-tornados closer up to Reno. Eek.

I also had some concerns about the moisture levels in the stalls; the sheer volume of water meant water was coming into the stalls, and they were standing in puddles. Soft, wet hooves…another concern for both gluing boots as well as all the rocks. Oh, well. Nothing to do but dump shavings in the stall once the rain stopped and hope things dried out.

Thursday morning we killed some extra time with ride “housekeeping” items — glowsticks on breastcollars, saddle packs filled, etc., before we loaded back up and headed over to the ride. Up to this point, I felt like I was on a relaxing horse camping vacation. I was also working, but even with that, I still had some relaxation and down time, which was probably a really good thing for my mental state.

We pulled into camp just a few minutes before 2, and were given a very choice spot close to the middle of everything. (Okay, so *everything* is close at the Ice House parking…it’s a very “cozy” ridecamp and there is some creative parking involved.) Ridecamp is literally right in town — you end up riding through town several times, and the start is on Main Street, in front of the Delta Saloon. (Start at a saloon, end at a cemetery…there’s got to be some kind of humorous tagline and/or life lesson out of that, right?)

The Ice House base camp is just that — the old ice storage house from when Virginia City was in its heyday as a mining town. It’s now used by the county as a storage lot for gravel and asphalt grindings piles, so it’s pretty rocky/gravelly footing. We got camp set up and the horses settled in, and got our arrival weights done on the horses.  After eyeballing the gravel, I decided to glue boots on then instead of having Beeba stand around on the rocks all night.

I’ll do a whole separate post on gluing protocol for those that are interested, but suffice to say…I got the job done. It wasn’t gorgeous, but those suckers stayed on.


Boots on. And only a few dozen bad words were uttered.

Once gluing was over and done with, I was able to relax a bit more — one more stressful thing checked off the list. Camp was already filling up by Thursday evening, and they started sending larger rigs down to the overflow parking at the rodeo grounds, and by Friday morning, they managed to shoehorn in a couple more rigs at Ice House, and then everyone else got sent down to the overflow lot. (Normal years, this ride sees maybe 40-45 riders. This year, they started 70!)

Thursday night dinner was a fun affair — Kaity was also riding, so we made arrangements to join forces and do dinner that evening. She made chicken fajitas, we took care of sides, and had a wonderful group dinner.

Friday morning was a leisurely hang-out in camp. Kim and Garry made a supply run, and I hung out with the horses and socialized — a number of friends were at the ride, so it was really good to be able to have a couple hours of relaxed conversation. Normally I’m used to getting to camp and scurrying around like a cracked-out ferret trying to get stuff done, so to be this relaxed and together was a bit of a novel concept to me. The biggest ride challenge I’ve tackled to date, and I was still surprisingly chill about the whole thing.

Andrea also had Cristina come in as crew, so we spent some time catching up, as well as going over some overall crew logistics for all of us.

Once Kim got back, we saddled up and headed out through town for a pre-ride to be able to see at least the first couple of miles we would be riding in the dark. And that’s when things fell apart a little bit. The horses were actually doing really well for the first bit through town, but then things started escalating  — construction air guns hissing, children at recess running and screaming, the train whistle going off, the school alarm going off. The horses started getting more and more amped up, and so we all hopped off and walked the next mile or so to the edge of town where we got back on and rode out another mile or so on the trail and then back-tracked. Once we hit pavement, I hopped off again and walked most of the way through town until we got back to the familiar streets around camp we had hand-walked several times, so was comfortable enough to get back on and ride back into camp.


Heading out to pre-ride. L to R: me, Kim, Andrea

Hmmm. Not the most auspicious pre-ride. Not sure how this was going to bode for the start. Granted, at 5am on a Saturday there wasn’t going to be construction, or screaming children. But still…consider my ride nerves officially activated.

But I did my best to not think about that, and instead concentrated on what needed to be done that afternoon – once we were back to camp and had the horses untacked, they had rider check-in set up, so we wandered over and grabbed our packets, and went back to the trailer to examine our goodies. They had some great ride sponsors this year, and we ended up with some nice coupons, some samples of Hammer products, and a sample of Squirrel’s Nut Butter, which, contrary to how the name may sound, is not for spreading on your morning toast.

Vetting was supposed to start at 3, but unfortunately both of the vets were delayed and it wasn’t until a little after 5 that we ended up being able to vet in. Normally this kind of thing really stresses me out and throws me and my carefully coordinated planning into a tailspin, since delays tend to have a trickle-down effect…meaning dinner would be later, and ride meeting later, and bedtime later. I know I was a little bit stressed/anxious/annoyed at this point, but actually shook it off pretty fast…not like there was anything I could do to control the situation, and stressing about it would just waste valuable energy.

Once vetting starting, we scuttled over to get in line (advantage of being parked close), and only had to stand around for 15 minutes or so. Beeba vetted in beautifully – stood politely, trotted in-hand well. I found it interesting she had a couple of B’s on gut sounds, especially when she had been stuffing food in all day long.


Waiting in line to vet. Photo by Lucy Trumbull

The ride offered an option to buy dinner Friday night, which always makes me happy. Whenever a ride offers me the chance to buy a meal, I do so, since that’s one less thing for me to cook/clean up after. They had really yummy smoked tri-tip (or chicken) and sides, and I’m a sucker for a good tri-tip.

Between dinner and ride meeting, we scuttled over to throw another layer of blankets on the horses. Desert rats (especially Beeba) weren’t too fond of the cold, so we ended up double-blanketing them most nights. Right about the time we were blanketing, everybody picked up and migrated from the outside dinner tables to inside the Ice House for the ride meeting, and we ended up packed in there tighter than sardines. (70 riders plus their crew and associated persons make for very crowded conditions…I actually want to come back on a non-anniversary year just to experience the “normal” ride conditions.)


Sardined riders. Yours truly is up against the wall, snuggled next to the stove pipe (no, it wasn’t lit) in the purple hoodie and pink/orange puffy jacket.

Briefing was highly entertaining – the NASTR club really knows how to have a good time and the pride and joy they have in their rides really shines through. We got a really good description of the trail, as well as tidbits and insight into good natural water sources that would be out there this year. Head vet Jamie Kerr got up and gave us our vet check parameters for the holds, as well as spent time reiterating the importance of hydration in our horses.

Major takeaway: 30 swallows = 1 gallon, so when you’re at a water source, count those swallows and know how much your horse is taking in. He emphasized this several times, and it is one of those tidbits that is now stuck in my brain. It was also really useful out there on the trail – there’s quite a bit of peace of mind that comes from the surety of knowing “my horse just drank a gallon and half at that stop” versus “well, I think they drank pretty well???”.

After the ride meeting was the Calcutta, which apparently auctions off riders and people bid on the riders finishing high up in their weight class. Or something like that. I was a little fuzzy on the details when it was explained to me ahead of time, and I didn’t stick around for it – I was way more interested in getting to bed early.

We checked the horses’ food and water for the night, then hustled off to bed; I’m pretty sure I actually managed to be in bed by 9. 3AM rolled around way too fast, but I actually managed some pretty good sleep for the night before a ride and was technically up before my alarm (which was set for 3:15).

I got dressed, got coffee made, and sat down and slowly tried to gag down a bit of breakfast. It was a relief to finally just get up and go out to tack up. As I was tacking up, Lucy came over to give me a hug and a bit of early morning moral support. Beeba was being a squirmy wiggle worm as usual for tacking up, so it was useful having an extra hand for a couple minutes. Lucy’s been a huge part of my endurance journey, especially towards 100-milers, so that quick morning visit meant a lot to me and was a huge morale booster. Ride nerves had started taking hold, and the specter of the ride start loomed large.

We did a quick “start weight” of the horses on the scale, then gathered together and started walking towards the start about 4:30. Andrea was mounted and Lily was being a saint. Kim and I were both hand-walking. A little ways out from camp, Kim swung up on Nort, but unfortunately I just don’t have “fast mounting” down as one of my appreciable skills, and I basically would have held the other two up waiting for me to gather myself together and get on…so I kept hand-walking.

Beeba was getting pretty prancey as we were walking – we were getting passed by other people, and she just wanted to walk out at her really fast flat walk…but that would have put her ahead of our other two, and the whole point was to try to keep Nort especially under wraps. So I kept getting more and more intimidated as Beeba kept getting more wound up. Finally Cristina offered to walk Beeba for me, and after a moment of warring with my pride and ego, I handed the mare over and dropped back to try to gather myself together. I was really stressed out at this point – crying because I couldn’t get it together, mad at myself for not being braver, and frustrated about how easily I transfer emotions to horses – I was turning a normally calm horse into a ball of nerves with my emotions, because as soon as I handed her over to Cristina, she started walking out calmly.

Kim’s husband Garry was a solid rock for me at that point. He hung back with me, talked me through my emotional fit, and got me calmed down and re-centered. By the time we reached Main Street, I was feeling much more put together, enough so that he and Cristina held Beeba and I was able to swing aboard. We did a couple walking circles, and then the ride started.


Getting ready to mount up at the start.

We were towards the back of the pack, and everyone was calmly walking out of town. As soon as I mounted, Beeba had settled down, and she was happily walking out, just as curious as I was about this novel and unique ride start. I chattered to her, pointing out different historic sites and saloons, mostly as a way to keep myself calm (you have to breathe to be able to chatter). This was, hands down, the most unique ride start ever, and absolutely magical. With the roads closed down, and everything lit by the soft glow of streetlights, it’s not hard to imagine back a couple hundred years to miners and prospectors walking or riding these same streets, in front of these same buildings.

start vid 2

start vid 3

We walked a good part of the way through town, then turned off and dropped down a couple street levels to go past the cemetery and out onto the trail. This was what we had pre-ridden the previous day, so we able to pick up a slow trot. There were a few spots that had some trail wash-out and erosion, and management did a great job of marking the spots to avoid with blinking red hazard flashers.

We were a few miles in, starting to climb up to Sign Hill, when Andrea’s mare mis-stepped when passing from one trail track to another and stumbled, going to her knees and sending Andrea over her shoulder into the ditch in front of her. That’s always a scary moment when you have a rider off, in the dark, with horses behind you, in a trail area that has maybe 12” of passing space. Fortunately Lily is a saint who stood like a rock, Andrea was able to get back on, and we continued on our way.

The short climb up Sign Hill tops off at the highway, then drops down a steep embankment, and opens up onto a wide road (with dirt shoulder) that turns into a nice open dirt road. We made it down the embankment without incident (it’s steep enough to be potentially very *exciting* to a horse that’s a bit wound up) and once we hit the road, were finally able to let the horses really move out.  Beeba and I had our one and only “discussion” of the ride at this point, as she really wanted to move out, and I thought a dull roar was a bit more prudent, as it had lightened up just enough to see that the road did have some ruts and dips along the way.

She tossed her head, I growled at her. Another head toss, I made threats of a martingale for the future. It continued this way for the several miles we were on the road, but considering she wasn’t even trying too hard to dislocate my shoulders, I chalked it up as more of a minor annoyance than major problem.

We turned off the main road onto a wash that cut up to another road – “road” being a bit generous in definition, as it had a pretty impressive layer of rocks overlaying it. And so began the “hmm, if a hoof can fit in between the rocks, we should be trotting it” concept. This road took us up into the Virginia Highlands, and we wove through different streets and up and down some hills (got off to run a steeper downhill, discovered Beeba is a great running partner), past the volunteer fire station that’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere, and up and around the whole northern part of the Highlands.

I have no pictures through this section because the cold had zapped my phone — went to take pics and it was all “No Battery Life.” Lame. Zombie!Phone came back to life once it warmed up a bit, by mile 19, so I was able to get pics later.

A very nice homeowner had put out a trough in their front yard around mile 15, and the horses tanked up here while we gave very appreciative thanks to the homeowners, who were out spectating on their front porch. There had been water earlier (a trough at mile 4, plus a natural stream crossing about 10 miles in) but this was the first one Beeba decided was acceptable…and then she started tanking up at every water source from hereon after.

Got the scenic tour of more of the Highlands via dirt/gravel roads, and wound our way down to the highway crossing at 19 miles. There was another water trough there that we stopped at there before we did the trot-by, and Beeba started to drink well, only to be interrupted by a lady coming up and letting her horse barge in and snarl at everyone. Fortunately Beeba returned to drinking after the horse moved off, but that was a major annoyance.

Did our mounted trot-by, all were cleared to go, then we scuttled across the highway and headed down the Toll Rd, passing photographer Rene Baylor on the way. (The top pic was at this point as well.)


photo by Gore-Baylor Photography

Once the road started descending (it’s about 2 miles down), I hopped off and started running with Beeba. Of course now that the sun was up, I quickly started warming up in my layers, so I pulled off probably one of my most impressive multi-tasking efforts to date. While still running, I managed to: hold the horse, remove my water pack, strip off my jacket, replace the water pack, and tie my jacket around my waist. All without falling or tripping.  The steeper or more rutted out parts of the road, we walked, but otherwise we were running. Beeba again proved to be a wonderful running partner, staying either right behind me or with her head at my shoulder, on a loose lead, matching her pace with mine.


hoofing it down Toll Rd

Once the road leveled out a little bit, I hopped back on and we did the rest of the grade at a trot, making our way past the turnoff for Bailey Canyon (we’d be back here after the vet check), and into the residential area that would take us to the first vet check – a 45 minute hold at Kivett Lane.

Coming down Toll Rd; photos by Sanne Steele

This was the flattest trail we had seen for the last number of miles, and it felt really good to let the horses move out on flat ground at a good trot. There was a little creek running right through one of the streets, so all of the horses stopped and had a really good drink – perfect timing, not too far out from the check. Beeba and I ended up out in front through the residential area, and we had a few moments of “Arabian pinball” as we zigged and zagged past some spooky residential happenings…but I employed the “faster you go, the faster you get past the scary object” methodology, and we made really good time into the check.

It was a bit of an adrenaline rush coming into the check – that was probably the most intense 25 miles I had ridden, and during it, I felt very “in the zone” but coming into the vet check was definitely a “holy wow, what was that?” moment. It was really good to see smiling, friendly faces that I knew, and to get a few cheers and waves as I came in.

I took Beeba over to the trough to get a drink and get her pulsed. I had no idea where she was at – I basically knew “she pulses really well” from what Kim had told me ahead of time. The pulse checker had just started taking her pulse when Lily reached out across the water trough and bit Beeba right on the face. She was really startled, but all she did was jump in place – and she still pulsed in right at 60, even though the pulse-taker said she spiked right when he was pulsing her. (So who knows how low she was at that point? Ah, well, 60 was the parameter, that’s what we were at, so that’s all I cared about.)

Whisked her right over to the vet, where she proceed to stun all around her with a CRI score of 56/40. Yes, really. The same B’s on a couple of gut sounds, and A’s on everything else. Hopped over to the scale to get a quick weight, and then we made our way over to the crew area Garry had set up.


I am so not used to having a crew, so it was a major novelty to have the horse taken from me, and be pointed in the direction of food, drink, and a chair. I had done some good snacking and hydrating on the trail, so topped off my hydration pack, re-filled a water bottle, re-filled my snacks, and then sat down with breakfast.

We actually went into the ride with a small rub in front of Beeba’s girth – a small spot of pink skin that wasn’t in direct contact with the girth, and of unknown origin. But how would all of the downhill we were doing end up impacting it? So far, so good. Slathered it with more Cowboy Magic, rolled up her rump rug, attached a scoop and sponge to the saddle, electrolyted, and then it was time to mount up and head out, right on our out-time.

Back through the residential area, with a stop at the stream to drink again (despite tanking up well at the check…yay!), then re-traced our steps up to the Bailey Canyon turnoff.


making our way to Bailey Canyon

I had heard stories and seen a few pictures of Bailey Canyon. I knew it was rocky. I knew it took an hour to get through whether you were fast or slow.

Well, I prepared myself for the worst, and was ready for an hour+ of misery. What I got was actually quite a bit of fun. I wasn’t too sure at the start of Bailey, when we did a bit of ribbon-to-ribbon navigating through rocks and sagebrush, then a very tricky drop into a stream crossing in order to get to the trail, but that was some of the worst of it, and we spent the next hour perfecting the art of walking the rocks, and trotting all 20’ of smooth trail.

If you’ve got a horse who just wants to go, I can see where this suck would suck. If they’re the kind that don’t watch their feet, and tend to do more spazzing and flailing than actually paying attention, I would hate this section. But I was on a mare with really smart footwork, who could “see” her own clear path through the rocks, and I just concentrated on stayed balanced and staying out of her way.

With three people riding together, it can be hard to practice traditional trail etiquette for these kind of scenarios. Normally, the polite thing to do is wait until all horses are clear of a rough area, then start trotting. But when the clear sections are so brief, by the time the last horse is clear, the first horse is in rocks again. So we employed the “trot whenever” strategy. Both Beeba and Lily are fine with being left when the horse in front of them trots off, so Kim and Nort set the pace out in front – they would hit a clear section and trot, then Andrea and Lily would trot when they reached it, and then Beeba and I, bringing up the rear, would trot when we were clear. This worked marvelously, and we made pretty good time through here once we figured that out.

The next section after Bailey had some good areas (comparatively speaking) to move out again. A couple longer downhills that were a good excuse to get off and walk/jog, and we wound our way through the mountains and down towards Washoe Lake, where our next vet check was waiting at 39 miles.

The couple miles of sagebrush flats into Washoe were a blast. Beeba and I led the way, blasting through the single-track at a speedy trot. She was a little spooky to start with, peeking at the sagebrush, or off in the distance at the irrigation wheels, but I just kept asking her for a bit more speed, and the faster we would go, the more focused on the trail she would get. This was one of those trails that really paid to have an athletic, compact, nimble horse, and I was laughing like a loon by the time we hit the Washoe Lake check.


coming into Washoe; photo by Gore-Baylor Photogrpahy

There’s a 20-minute hold there at Washoe. Some time during that 20 minutes, you have to go see the vet for a full exam, but there’s no “gate into hold” where you have to pulse down before your time starts – they just have to be down to parameters by the time you go see the vet.


entering the check; Beeba and I are both going “wah, why’d we have to stop trotting?”

Garry had a nice crew area set up for us again, so the horses were able to settle in and eat for a few minutes  while we topped off waters/snacks, then went over to the vet. Unfortunately, since we were at the back of the pack, they were down to only one vet, so to get all three of us vetted through took almost 15 minutes.

This check was probably Beeba’s lowest point; I didn’t get a photo of the vet card at this check, but from what I remember, her CRI was less phenomenal (52/52, I think?), I think she had a couple of B’s on the movement scores, and her trot-out was a little half-hearted.

We left the check probably about 10 minutes late; but at least the horses had a chance to eat while we were waiting. Only 11 miles into camp and a one-hour hold, but before that, we had to get through the SOBs (yes, it means what you probably think it means): three infamous, v-shaped pits of hell canyon things that you basically drop straight up, climb straight back up, die a little bit, climb down, climb up (only not as bad as the first time), die a little less, then meander down and back up a third time.

Oh, and there’s about a 4-mile climb to get to that point. Just keep climbing. Up, up, up. The views from the top are amazing. Beeba slowed down and asked for some bites of whatever grassy stuff was growing alongside the trail several times, but she never quit on me.

We stopped at the top of the first SOB, made appropriate “oh, #^%*” noises, then hopped off and started picking our way down. The footing was loose and rubbly, and I basically zig-zagged my way down. Beeba kept a safe distance back from me, and dutifully followed behind me, opportunistically grabbing grass whenever I paused to ponder my next move.



Surviving the down is actually the easy part. The climb up is what really sucks. I thought I would “probably be okay” – after all, I did a 50k this spring with some massive hills, and had stayed in decent shape all summer. Well, those climbs might have been long, but they were nowhere near as steep as SOB1, which also featured really gnarly, loose, rocky footing.  Beeba knows how to tail, and we had even practiced it beforehand. What I didn’t count on was her ravenous appetite. I put her in front of me, clicked to her…and she walked up a couple feet and promptly darted off to the side of the trail and started grazing.

Well, this isn’t going to work. Part of a hill like this is momentum. Stopping every two feet wasn’t going to cut it. I also wasn’t going to be standing below her in this stop-n-start routine on a steep angle with crappy footing.

New plan. Time for a wagon train. Andrea, riding Lily, got in front. Kim tailed off Lily and lead Nort. I tailed off Nort and lead Beeba. Beeba trailed behind me, waiting for the opportune moment to dive for grass. And we managed to make it up the first SOB in this fashion. Paused at the top to remember how to breathe. (Did I mention this is also at  6500’ elevation?) Then continued downward on foot, slightly less treacherous of footing…and mounted up at the bottom.


Tackling the second SOB

Sorry, Beeba, I gave you the first one, mare, but the next ones are on you. Maybe next time I’ll tackle the second one on foot as well, but I’m calling tailing the first SOB a pretty good deal for my first VC.

Past the SOBs, the trail is rocky (what else is new?) but levels out, so we were able to get in some decent trotting as we made our way past the reservoir and to the Jumbo Grade water stop. They have water trough, and hay, and mash, as well as cookies for the riders. We took a 5-minute cookie-and-mash break there, then we continued onward – only a few miles from camp.

The reservoir road/Ophir Grade is fairly flat, and pretty hard-packed, but the rocks aren’t as bad, so we hit that road and turned on the trotting afterburners. Nort and Lily both have a bigger trot than Beeba does (or at least than she prefers) so once we escalated past about 9mph, she kicked over into her wonderful rolling canter. It’s not fast, but it’s super fun and really easy to ride. Plus it’s exhilarating to know that at 49 miles in, the horse feels good enough to want to canter and is asking for more.

We came trotting off the grade, crossed the highway, and headed down the road into camp. Since the trailer was *right there* and it was a tack-off check, we grabbed our time slips, dumped tack at the trailer, then headed over to pulse and vet.

Again, I totally failed at taking a picture of my card, but I know she was improved from the Washoe check on everything and her trot-out was once again perky and cheerful and the vet said she looked good.

Then it was back to the trailer where she got a bucket of mash, and I put some ice boots on her front legs while I ducked inside and grabbed some food for myself. I was kind of disorganized in terms of food for myself here; I wasn’t sure what I wanted, I felt a bit frazzled because we were running way later on time than what I had planned, and didn’t quite know what I needed to do at this point.


Stuffing in whatever she could find during the one-hour vet hold at Ice House

I also knew we would be out in the dark for part of the loop, so partially changed clothes into a couple warmer top layers, plus added my jacket back on to the saddle.

With 15 minutes or so until out time, I pulled Beeba’s ice wraps off and started tacking up again. I was fully expecting dirty looks at this point, since she’s never done more than 50 miles, and here we were at 50 miles, untacked and eating, legs iced…surely she was done? To my surprise, I got a polite “hmmm, whatcha doing?” ear tip in my direction, and she kept on steadily munching through her hay as I slung the saddle back on and got everything ready to go.

Kim was doing some reinforcement work on Nort’s boots during the check in the form of adding Sikaflex for extra padding and hold (her glue-ons had been eaten by the trail along the way, and by the Washoe check, Nort was wearing all of his spare Gloves), so it took a couple extra minutes to wrap that up, and we were out 5 minutes after our out-time.

Beeba quite happily moseyed over to the out-timer and meandered her way out to the trail –this time, we were heading out of the back of camp and would return through town. She wasn’t in a major hurry at this point, but she also wasn’t arguing the idea of going out again.

We picked our way down the hill out of camp, down another embankment, over a set of railroad tracks, and down a single-track that took us through a little canyon. It was a fun little section of technical trail…a section I had been told was probably worth hand-walking, but we were sneaking in little trot sections whenever it was at all possible, so I think we made better time staying in the saddle on this particular occasion.

Once clear of the canyon, a couple miles out of camp, there was another water trough waiting…horses drank, then we crossed the highway again, and started winding around through a mining area. Some of the building were really old and abandoned, but there were other spots that still had some kind of activity going on. (At one point there was some kind of large water holding tank/mini reservoir that was doing something that involved a couple large jets of water spraying into the tank, which earned some serious “What the heck?!?” looks from Beeba…but she was a good girl and kept on trotting by, even as she gawped at it.)

This section was kind of fun in that it meandered around…down some dirt roads, through a creek, up some hills, down another long, rocky downhill. We were chasing the sun now, trying to get as far as we could into this loop before we lost the light. The trail was marked with glowsticks starting at the Jumbo Grade stop, but getting to that point would only be ribbons and lime blobs on the ground. We really hustled through parts of this section, and it was an absolute blast trotting and cantering down some of the dirt roads, everything around us getting darker by the minute.

There were a couple more train track crossings we went over, then veered off the large dirt road we had been on and onto another single-track through a section known as “mini Bailey Canyon.” It’s not as long, only a couple miles, but we were in total darkness at this point. For what I’ve been told, maybe it was better I couldn’t see the trail? The most disconcerting part was were couldn’t sure 100% sure we were on the trail, although it was one of those places that would be hard to get off the trail since there was nowhere else to go. We managed to spot a couple ribbons along the way (orange ribbons are hard to see with red headlamps), and eventually we went up a short, steep climb, and there were more ribbons and lime blobs at the top, directing us down another road. We passed below the same reservoir we had gone by on loop 1 on the way to the Jumbo Grade stop, and stayed on a road that paralleled the earlier trail from earlier.

I think the hardest part here was how dark it was, and unfortunately, any kind of lights (headlamps or glowsticks) from any of us were having a very adverse effect on Kim and making her really nauseous. So it was hard to tell what exactly on this road was trottable, and how much of it was rocky and would be better off walking. Fortunately it wasn’t too long until we reached the Jumbo water stop again, with more water, hay, and mash. We only stayed here for a few minutes, though, as the wind had picked up, and it was getting cold, so standing around didn’t sound like a great option.

As promised, the glowsticks marked the way, and we could see them winding their way up the Mt Davidson climb. This was another section I had been warned about. It’s several miles of climbing, with a few spots here and there where it levels out, then gradually climbs again. Nothing particularly steep, but just long, steady climbs. We trotted here and there when we could, but for the most part, just moved along at a nice walk. I was also getting chilly at this point, despite my 3 layers, so reached behind me and rummaged through the saddle pack (Beeba just kept trucking along, reins on her neck while I was doing this) for my super light wind shell. It’s one of those super-packable, featherweight shells that blocks wind and will temporarily block rain – a glorified garbage bag with pretty designs, basically. But that thing actually did the job and blocked enough of the wind so that I stayed a lot more comfortable.

Periodically Beeba would drift over and snatch a bite or two of dried grass from alongside the trail, but she just kept trucking up the hill. Eventually we reached what I presume was the top, or near to it, and could look out over the city lights of Reno. There were a few areas where we were able to trot a bit, and then we started descending.

Gotta say, this was my least favorite part of the whole ride: the descent off Mt Davidson. There were a series of short, steep downhills, with some washed-out, technical spots – lots of red caution flashers. It was really slow-going, and there were a few moments where I wasn’t having a whole lot of fun. The city lights in the distance were a little disorienting as well – it was *so* dark on the trail, but then the lights were bright enough in my peripheral vision to affect my night vision, so that made it seem even darker. I just wanted to get through this section as quick as possible, but a lot of the trail really didn’t lend itself well to that, and once we were clear of the technical stuff and back out onto dirt roads, we were really far behind on time and pretty much resigned to the fact we wouldn’t end up making time.

We crossed the highway yet another time (vehicle headlights are the worst; someone please tell me why there are vehicles out at 11:30 at night?), made our way through some more quiet semi-residential streets, and onto a section of trail that would connect us up to Sign Hill and the shared trail from the morning.

Beeba and I were leading through a lot of this section, and I had some really strange hallucinations start to kick in. I was a bit disoriented from the headlights in the distance, and while it wasn’t making me sick, it definitely felt a bit weird. Plus I was getting sleepy, and still cold, and my brain really started playing tricks on me. I kept imagining we were crossing a giant land bridge (just a lighter-colored section of dirt), and there were towering rock sculptures next to us (just a tree).

And then I had one of those “bad human judgment” moments. I saw one glow stick, and rather than look for the next one, just reined Beeba over to where I assumed the trail was. Mistake. All of a sudden she dropped out from under me and when I clicked on my headlamp, I could see we were standing in a rough ditch, a couple feet deep, with embankments on each side and no clear way out except to keep going up the short slope we were on. So that’s what I did, and topped out on a flat area – where there were glowsticks. Hindsight, I should have just stayed there – turns out the trail just went *around* the little ditch/hillock thing I had just blundered through, and up onto the rise where we were standing now. But Kim and Andrea were still below us, and they couldn’t see the next glowstick, so I made my second mis-judgment and went back down the ditch to re-join them and find the actual trail.

Which wouldn’t have been so bad except I was gripped with a sudden need to *see* what I was doing, so turned on the white light headlamp option. Big, big mistake. Beeba was not happy, and she tripped and stumbled her way back down the ditch and rough footing. I immediately turned the light off, and she settled right down, picked her way over to the actual trail, we found the next glowstick, and continued on our way. She started taking charge a little more after that, tugging the reins from me and making her own decisions about where the trail went, since clearly the idiot human couldn’t be trusted.

Heading back down Sign Hill we were running into a lot of traffic of riders heading back out on their third loop. Made me a little sad since I knew we were so far overtime at this point, there was no way we were heading out…and I had a niggle in the back of my mind that Beeba also wasn’t 100%. She was a bit tentative on the downhills, and the trot was feeling a little crunchy. She was still walking out at this smooth, gliding walk, and still very much an energizer bunny, even “parade horse” prancing in place when we briefly stopped along the trail.

Crossing the chalk line at the cemetery was a bit bittersweet, since I knew we wouldn’t be crossing it a second time as the finish line. I was cold and tired, but also knew myself well enough to know that a change of clothes and hot meal would be been very restorative, and I fully believe I could have gone out on that third loop if we had the time.

Walking through town was peaceful and quiet – we were on the backside of all of the Main Street businesses, and the same horse that had been all wound up and dancing through the streets Friday afternoon was now calmly striding out on a loose rein, confidently making her way back to camp.

Garry met us at the entrance to camp with the tack cart and blankets, so we stripped tack off and dumped it in the cart, then immediately went over to the vet. Yes, we were way overtime – it was just past midnight when we got back to camp, and suggested cutoff time was 11. And sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed on Beeba’s trot-out – she was off on the right hind. Pretty sure I know the culprit – she had tried to do the “two feet occupying the same 4 square inches of space” trick back in Wildcat Canyon (between Bailey Canyon and Washoe) and the right hoof had slipped and she had knuckled over at the fetlock.

We took the horses back to the trailer, bundled them up in blankets, tugged a pair of the Equiflex “sleeves” on Beeba’s front legs, made sure they had plenty of hay and water, then retreated to the trailer. I was still cold, and hungry, so heated up water and made a quick cup of ramen noodles. The hot broth/noodles warmed me up, and with filthy clothes exchanged for warm pajamas, fell into bed and was out…until about 7am when the sun was up and I was no longer able to stay asleep. Facebook got a quick updating of how the rest of the day had gone down:

Well, ultimately the stars weren’t quite in alignment for us yesterday and we were pulled at the 76-mile point…a combo of being both overtime and Beeba was off on the right hind at the trot.

Still, can’t complain…that red mare poured her heart out for me all day long over some incredible and challenging trail. This was the longest either of us have gone before, and she headed out of camp for that second loop after 50 miles without any fuss or question. She was an energizer bunny all day, steadily eating up the miles, and eating and drinking amazingly well.

And me? More 75s and 100s, please! There’s something special about these longer distances and I can’t wait to do more of them.

Much more later…this was an incredible ride and I’m glad to have had the chance to start it this year. The VC magic got its hooks in me and you can be sure I’ll return for another go at it!

Once Kim was up, we took the horses for a walk up the street a little bit – Beeba was a little stiff on the right hind, maybe a grade 1.5 at the trot, but moving well at the walk and already looking way better than she had a mere 8 hours prior.

Once the horses were taken care of, I had the chance to grab a shower, then went  wandering around camp, clutching my coffee, in search of friends who might also be awake. I eventually found Lucy, and spent some time talking with and confiding in her – this was my one “emotional overwhelm” moment that had me a little weepy – various little stresses, disappointment about not finishing, and still a bit overly tired all combined , but once I got that out of my system, that was it, and I’ve actually been pretty darn cheerful about the whole endeavor in the aftermath.

Sunday morning breakfast was part of the ride entry – great spread of eggs, potatoes, and steak. I gobbled up breakfast, then went over to grab my ride photos from Rene Baylor. He got some really great shots that captured so much of the joy and excitement I had in those moments along the way.

Parts of the awards ceremony included plaques given out to those who participated in the research study with their horses, so we didn’t come home completely empty-handed, either!


We also managed a quick trip into town for ice cream at one of the local shops…I managed to get my hands on a huckleberry cone, which is an almost unheard-of flavor. Yum.

Sunday afternoon, it was amazing how fast camp wrapped up and people headed out, to the point where there were just three rigs left in camp.

Sunday night we went into town for dinner – found a really fun Mexican restaurant that served some really good food with generous portions (enough that half of my jumbo burrito got boxed up and eaten for lunch the next day). Part of the fun of the ride is having town right there, which makes for a more entertaining experience for crew people or family members who may not be endurance riders. There are even hotels in walking distance from basecamp.

We had most of camp packed up on Sunday, so Monday morning, it was straightforward enough to pack up the last few remaining items, clean up the area, get the horses loaded, and hit the road. We had easy travelling (including seeing big horn sheep at Walker Lake), made a quick lunch stop at Tonopah where we let the horses out in the arena to stretch and roll while we ate, then loaded up again and pushed onward to Las Vegas, where we overnighted at Cathy’s place.

It was great to see Cathy again, and re-connect with Dean, my little Tevis Ed Ride pony. We all went out for dinner that night, and after dinner, did as endurance riders do – play around with saddle fit and hoof boots. Beeba got to spend the night out in Cathy’s round pen, which meant she did some really good moving around, and all of her legs were cool and tight (she’d been harboring a little bit of puffiness, especially on the hinds, after trailering) by morning.

Tuesday morning, we headed out bright and early – on the road by 7, managed to hit Vegas rush hour, then it was smooth sailing the whole way home – a brief stop in Kingman for gas, and a pause in Wickenburg to water the horses, and then we were home early afternoon. Got the trailer all unloaded, Garry helped me remove Beeba’s boots, got all my stuff shoved back into my truck, and managed to make it back home by 2:30ish.


Still talking to me — unloaded at home, turned her out for a drink and roll, then had to retrieve her to pull boots. And she came right over.

Beeba was totally sound by the time we got home, and the horses are getting a few weeks of well-deserved rest. I absolutely want to go back and try again – I am hooked on the idea of 75s and 100s. The trail itself was a good challenge, and the ride was impeccably managed. I’ve got a laundry list going of “takeaways, lessons learned and what to do next time” so I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to implement it.

I’ve got a couple more posts coming that’ll detail out gear, plus go into more detail about boots and gluing.

Happy trails for the rest of the 2017 ride season!


Ride Story: Tevis Educational Ride 2017

One step closer to my Tevis buckle dreams.


The Tevis Educational Ride has been on my radar for a number of years, for obvious reasons. 1) It’s Tevis-related. 2) Chance to see the trail ahead of time. 3) Chance to be mentored by experienced Tevis finishers and learn appropriate pacing and other ride strategies.

The Ed Ride is held every other year (alternating with the “Fun Ride” which doesn’t cover as much of the trail, and isn’t quite as involved with mentoring/education), and includes two days of riding over basically 2/3 of the trail in a small group (2-3 people/mentor), as well as extra clinics and seminars that are particularly relevant to Tevis. To give an idea of the experience and educational value earned, despite the fact you cover 64 miles over the two days, completing the Ed Ride counts as 150 qualifying miles, for those trying to make their 300 qualifying miles to ride Tevis.

However, it’s a big time and $ commitment, especially if you don’t live in the area, so for those reasons (as well as timing, horse suitability, etc.), I’d never managed to make it to the Ed Ride. Fortunately, over the last few years, I’ve had a number of opportunities to do various and sundry pre-rides on the Tevis trail, usually coinciding with my mostly-annual crewing trips to Tevis.

This year, I was offered a chance to do the Ed Ride. A friend was going up to be an Ed Ride mentor, and had an extra horse she wanted to also have see the trail. I didn’t even have to think about that one at all — count me in for sure!

Fast forward to the Wednesday before the Ed Ride. I flew up to Las Vegas, NV early in the morning, Cathy picked me up from the airport, and we headed back to her place to finish packing and prep work. I met my ride for the weekend, an 8-year-old Al-Marah-bred gelding named Dean. This is his first season of endurance (after flunking out of both reining and dressage training) and he’s done 7 50’s to date, so went into the weekend with a good fitness base and some good seasoning and exposure to the sport (he’s done several XP rides, so technical trail was nothing new to him).


AM Magestic Dean (AlMarah Mr Dream x Al-Marah HRH Domaine)

We got tack sorted and cleaned, stirrup lengths adjusted, and then glued hind boots on, a process that actually happened with minimal swearing or teeth gnashing.

While both horses have good hooves and tend to wear boots well, both of us opted for the extra insurance of using Renegade Pro-Comp Glue-Ons for the hind boots for the weekend. The canyons on the Tevis trail are a notoriously difficult place to keep boots on, thanks to a combination of climbing, some technical spots, some water crossings, and the amount of sweat that ends up coming off the horses.

Between Cathy, Cathy’s husband, and myself, we got both horses glued in less than an hour, taking into account boot sizing, gathering of materials, and then the actual gluing itself. Not too bad. The process for gluing Renegades isn’t necessarily difficult, per se…it’s just precise, and if the proper steps aren’t followed or followed sufficiently, then the glue job won’t be successful. And spoiler alert: they all stayed on through the whole weekend.

Thursday morning the horses got a quick bath, then we loaded up and were down the road. Because it’s a good 10+ hours between Vegas and Foresthill with a trailer, we had opted to split the drive into two days and overnight in Fallon, NV on the way up.


driving by Walker Lake

It was a 6-1/2-hour drive on the way up, including one gas stop. Around Hawthorne and up past Walker Lake, we ran into some unexpected clouds/rain, which was a welcome relief and dropped the temperatures down into the 80s.


settled in at the Churchill County Regional Park/Fallon fairgrounds

They got a chance to do a quick leg stretch in the arena (although were more interested in rolling in the dirt) before we settled them in a pen for the night. For us humans, luxury came in the form of power hookups and water at the campsites…hello, air conditioning and shower! I could very easily get used to this.

Friday morning, we loaded up and were back on the road bright and early after one last leg-stretching session in the arena. While they hadn’t done much the previous evening, they put on quite show in the morning — running, leaping, twirling, the full Arabian routine.

It was about a 4-hour haul through Reno, over Donner Pass, into Auburn, and onto Foresthill (including a fuel stop and stop at the CA/NV border ag station).


stopped at the ag station. still snow on the mountains!

We pulled into camp at the Foresthill Mill Site (same location as the Foresthill vet check at Tevis) shortly before noon, and there were already at least a dozen rigs there.


settled in at camp

Once they were settled on their respective Hi-Ties, we went over to check in for the weekend (Cathy as a mentor and myself as a rider), and go lighten our wallets at the Tevis Store. (My most-abused phrase of the weekend any time I would spend $ was “But it’s for a good cause!” as it all benefits the WSTF and the Tevis trail.)

I impulse-bought a couple of Kerrits IceFil items, as I was rapidly cooking in the hot sun and decided that the long-sleeve IceFil shirts were probably my best bet for weekend attire…and since I only had one long-sleeve shirt to bring with me, well, impulse shopping took care of that little problem.

Vetting in started at 3, and I believe we were over there shortly after it started. Fortunately there were patches of shade we were able to stand in while we waited in line.


We’ll take it. Given he had eaten all night previously, and in the trailer, and all afternoon at camp, I wasn’t too concerned about the couple of B’s on gut sounds.

He even trotted out nicely for me…which he does when he feel like it. However, once the ride starts, his general attitude towards trot-outs is “Can’t Be Bothered.” Can’t complain about his other ground manners, though — stands politely, doesn’t fuss or trod on people, and an angel for vet handling.

Late afternoon the riders all gathered for a meet-n-greet with their chosen mentors. For the first day “long ride” option, there is a entry cap of 20 mentors and 60 riders, keeping the groups a nice, manageable size of 3 riders per mentor. It’s a pretty casual, relaxed affair — the mentors list their names, and the speed they intend to pace at (“fast”, “medium”, or “slow”), and riders can then sign up with their preferred mentor. Obviously since I was traveling with Cathy and riding one of her horses, I was signed up with her. :)

In-between the meet-n-greet and one of the educational seminars, I was called upon for some emergency boot-gluing services for one of the ladies who would be riding with our group. The gaiters of the boots she had been using the previous day had rubbed on her horse, making him sore enough to be off, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to ride the next day or not. Cathy had extra Renegade glue-ons packed with her, so we offered to glue them on and see if it made a difference.

20 minutes later, front boots were glued, the horse was standing happily, and after a couple hours of letting the glue fully set up, he trotted sound. I made no promises as to how it would hold up, given the fact that, despite helping with doing glue-ons for a number of years now, I had yet to actually tackle an entire glue job on my own.

I guess that’s on-the-job training?


Spoiler Alert 2: They also stayed on ;)

The evening lecture was from Susan Garlinghouse, DVM, and she gave a really good lecture on feeding and electrolyting, specifically with 100-milers in mind, and some Tevis-specific relevant tips. She is always so generous with her knowledge on some of the Facebook groups, and really knows her stuff in regards to nutrition and performance. She’s also a highly entertaining speaker (bonus points for working in the phrase “take it worth a grain of salt” when discussing electrolytes), and knows how to distill down information into easily-digestible tidbits for us laypeople.

A local taco truck came in and set up shop on-site for Friday meals, and three tacos later, I was quite satisfied during the ride meeting. The ride meeting was pretty straight-forward, covering logistics: we would meet down at the Mill Site entrance at our designated times, load up into shuttle trailers, and be taken up to the start at Mumford Bar trailhead, where we would be dropped off and then ride the 25 miles back to Foresthill along the trail.

A note regarding the Ed Ride trail this year: Due to the absurdly high snowpack levels in the Sierras, the Ed Ride followed a slightly different route. The first canyon (with the “Swinging Bridge” at the bottom) had suffered some trail damage from a mud/rock slide, and while it had been open for the Western States Run last month, it wasn’t safe for horses, and while repairs will be complete by the time Tevis rolls around, an alternate start was designed for the Ed Ride.

Instead of going up to Robinson Flat, we were dropped off at Mumford Bar trailhead, about half an hour drive from Robinson Flat, and rode down Deadwood Road to the Deadwood vet check, bypassing the first canyon entirely. (At this point, I am convinced that I will not actually see the first canyon until I actually ride Tevis.) 

From Deadwood, we picked up the actual trail and took it the rest of the way in to Foresthill. Obviously, this shortened the mileage from the standard 32-mile day to about 25 miles, so for the small handful of people who needed the full mileage of the Ed Ride for their Tevis qualifying miles, they also had an out-and-back segment added on to their route to make up the miles and the descent/climb.

Day Two also experienced some trail alternations. The American River is flowing at a rate that is almost 5x what is ideal/safe for horses to cross — the winter rain/snow and subsequent snowmelt has the river flowing uncontrolled over the Oxbow Reservoir spillway. Because the river is normally dam-controlled and under regulated release, the high point of the water releases normally don’t hit that far downstream at the river crossing point until late afternoon, making it safe to cross in the earlier parts of the day. The dam-controlled aspect is also what allows the river to be held back for the duration of the Tevis ride day, making is safe to cross even in the late night/wee hours of the morning.

Normally the Ed Ride would get to the river and cross it early enough in the day to then continue on in to Auburn. This year, however, we were re-routed after Francisco’s to continue up Driver’s Flat Road (the road that is used to access the Francisco’s vet check) and finish at the Lower Driver’s Flat parking area for an approximately 20-mile day, and then be shuttled back to Foresthill from there.

Friday night was a bit restless, as it usually is for me, interrupted by Dean busting loose from his Hi-Tie at one point. Fortunately he didn’t go anywhere, but that involved having to r-attach his rope to the Hi-Tie.

So when my alarm went off, I was happy to get up and get on with things. Because saddles had already been packed the previous evening, all I had to do was pull on riding clothes, drink my coffee and eat some breakfast, then go tack up.

Cathy’s horses are used to being trailered with their tack on, so that was one less thing to mess with — just walked them down to the meeting area and they hopped right into the trailer, and we were on our way.


our group: Gayle/Bo, me/Dean, Cathy/Tempest, Liz/Boon

From our drop-off point at Mumford Bar, we mounted up and headed down Foresthill Rd for a little less than a mile to the turnoff on Deadwood Rd. Fortunately it was early enough on a Saturday morning that traffic wasn’t an issue.

In my typical catch-rider fashion, I climbed on Dean for the first time there at the trailhead. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from him…he had done a number of rides already this year, and only a tiny handful of minor indiscretions since Cathy had him…but old habits die hard (for me) and I still have a hard time relaxing and just jumping on board without wondering if the explosion will follow shortly thereafter.

He was just fine, and handled all of the commotion at the trailhead and heading out onto the street without fuss. He did start trying to jig and get really bunched up about 1/4-mile in when Tempest started outwalking him, so rather than get into an argument or have to get too in his mouth, I just jumped off and started hand-walking him down the road until we reached the Deadwood Rd turnoff. Once I climbed back on, we started trotting, and we found a better rhythm from there.

It was about 7 miles down Deadwood Rd to water, and we alternated walking and trotting, switching off and rotating through who was leading. We got passed by several groups — riding a faster pace than we were, but got a later start for shuttling or getting on the trail. No biggie — it was a great place to pass, since it was a dirt road. However, once we had been passed, Dean suggested to me a couple of times that “Wouldn’t you like to catch those horses ahead?” Nope, dude, we’re hanging back and taking it easy today.

We connected up with the actual Tevis trail about 7 miles in, at what would normally be the top of the climb out of the first canyon — the Devil’s Thumb water stop. They had troughs out, so the horses were able to tank up really well, and then we moseyed in the mile +/- into the Deadwood vet check.


Devil’s Thumb area. The break in the fence on Cathy’s left is where the normal trail comes in.


single-track trail into Deadwood (sorry, horrible mixed light meant most of my photos aren’t the greatest)

There was quite a back-up for the vet line at Deadwood, so we had some time to let them drink and eat. There was a volunteer there doing courtesy pulses — since I had no idea what to expect, I had her check Dean and she said he was at 68 just coming in.


waiting in line at Deadwood

Once he got a drink, we did the actual P&R…unfortunately, the pulse taker was just putting ’60’ on the cards if they were at or below criteria, so I don’t know what Dean actually came in at since all pulse taker said was “he’s way down, so as long as they’re down, I’m just putting 60 on the card.” :/ Would have liked the accuracy for information’s sake, but what can you do? <shrug>


when you’re waiting, you take pictures. this guy just makes me grin.

I took advantage of the downtime to fill my bottles and water pack, and grab some snacks and stuff my face. Practicing efficiency was one of my goals for the weekend, so I felt good about using my time in line well.


clean-up crew at Deadwood

Dean vetted well, and after everyone in our group was ready to go, we scuttled off down the trail towards El Dorado Canyon.


in line at Deadwood

There are a couple of exposed areas going down the canyon that make me squeak a bit. Funny enough, I’m actually better about those spots when I can trot through them, but on this day, we ended up walking some of those areas, so I jumped off and lead for a little bit. Dean and I were at the back of our group, so it was more efficient for me to power hike or do some jogging than to be doing the speed up/slow down thing in the saddle.

This trail can really mess with your head in parts. At one point, I swore I was seeing what looked like a little trickle of water/mud across the trail — which there was — that then opened up into a puddle of water that was reflecting the trees and greenery. Ummm, not so much on the puddle part. It was actually open air and really tall trees. That was kind of an “eep” moment for me, and I doubled down on keeping a really strong leg on Dean, reminding him that there was a drop-off there.

It was hot, hot, hot down at the bottom of the canyon, so we only lingered for a brief moment before continuing onward, bemoaning the fact that El Dorado Creek was so difficult to access. However, they had the route detoured to the little creek that is just off the trail a little ways, and we were able to let the horses drink and give them a good sponging.


climbing up the Michigan Bluff side of El Dorado Canyon

The climb up to Michigan Bluff is long, and hot, and the horses all start thinking you’re a little bit crazy. Fortunately there’s actually a good amount of shade along the way, but being in a canyon, there’s not much air movement, so it gets pretty warm when you’re walking up the climb.


manzanita tunnel at the top of the canyon

Once you hit the manzanita tunnel, that’s a sign that you’re near the top of the canyon and almost to Michigan Bluff.

On ride day, Michigan Bluff is a water stop only, but for the Ed Ride, they did have a vet check there. All of the horses drank well as we sponged them down, and Dean was at pulse criteria within a couple minutes of coming in and drinking.

There was a line for the vet here as well, so we found some shade and hay and again let them eat.


Yeah, happy with that.

Rather than get bogged down in another line at the Pieper Junction/Chicken Hawk check, we elected to hang out a few extra minutes and let them eat at MB before moseying out and making our way the couple miles to the next check.


“Frat Boy” at MB — eating, drinking, chillin’ in the shade


riding out of Michigan Bluff. An iconic Tevis moment when doing the ride…being there at the Ed Ride was enough to give me chills

The road between MB and PJ/CH is pretty trottable, although I had forgotten that there’s a little climb slipped in there (~400′ in less than a mile, but it’s right before the check, and all the little climbs add up).

Our strategy initially paid off when we reached the check, as there were way fewer people in line ahead of us…unfortunately, while we were pulsed down and standing in line at one of the troughs, a group behind us slipped in to an open trough ahead of us…and then decided that was “their” place in the vet line. Lesson learned: if you’re in the back of the line and people come in behind you, make sure they know you’re the back of the line. Or don’t leave a gap in-between troughs that people can slip into.

If it had been an actual ride, chasing the clock, I would have been more upset, but we weren’t being timed, and we were already out there…what difference was an extra ten minutes going to make, under the circumstances?

Dean was a little lackadaisical in his trot-out, earning him B’s on gait/impulsion/attitude, and for me to quip, “B for ‘Can’t Be Bothered.'”

One out of the check, we collectively as a group decided that we’d like to try a slightly faster pace whenever appropriate for this last canyon, as it was getting pretty warm and we were all about ready to be done for the day.


down into Volcano Canyon

Volcano Canyon is the “baby” of the three canyons, but what it lacks in depth it makes up for in being much rougher and rumblier footing. I last rode this canyon in 2014, and was able to jog-trot a good part of it…this year, we were reduced to a slithering walk on a lot of it.

The Volcano Creek crossing itself was a bit exciting. It’s always pretty rocky and slippery, and this year, Volcano Creek was a lot higher and faster-flowing than normal. Dean and I were in the lead at this point, and when he got to the edge, he decided, “Nope, not happening.” I jumped off as he contemplating back up the uphill single-track with a few drop-off areas, knowing I was probably going to have to get wet in order to get him across. I glanced at a couple of rocks, briefly contemplated rock hopping, concluded my odds of slipping on the rocks and ending up all the way in the creek were probably greater than not, and resigned myself to trudging across.

Yes, ultrarunner is a wimp who doesn’t like getting her feet wet.

Sure enough, the rocks were slippery, and Dean had a few slip-n-slide moments down in the creek, with a quick scramble at the end to get the heck outta there.

The water was cold, but felt really good, and I ended up about mid-calf deep after we cleared the main part of the stream and moved off to the other side to allow more of our group to fit in. This was another great chance to sponge the horses down, and since I was already partially wet, I squeezed several spongefuls of water over my own head/neck.

The last bit of climb out of Volcano Canyon goes by a lot quicker, and then we were at Bath Road. Now that is the part that takes way longer than expected. It’s the road that just keeps going.


heading up Bath Rd, almost back to Foresthill

Dean was still perfectly happy to keep offering to trot, especially when some of the larger horses would out-walk him, and a few times, I obliged…a few other times, I insisted he needed to work on his “walk out” skills.

And then we were back at Foresthill and the familiar entrance to the Mill Site…a path I’ve traveled a number of times now with crewing. We got the horses pulsed down and while Dean initially was presenting to the pulse person at 64, as soon as dummy here realized I forgot to loosen his girth, his pulse immediately dropped to 56. (How long have I been doing my vet check routine of dismount and immediately loosen girth?)

We dumped off their tack at the trailer, then immediately went over to vet. Dean gave me the most unimpressive trot-out ever (seriously, can’t be bothered), although I guess he still looked perky enough for A’s on his movement scores, and the vet had some useful tips for teaching smart trot-outs.

We discovered he did have a slightly sore girth rub (coincided with the nylon edge of the billet keeper strap), as well as some scrapes and dings on a hind leg from slipping in Volcano Creek, although those were all surface.

Once we were vetted out for the day, it was back to the trailer to clean them up and let them eat, and our riding group hung out in the shade and re-hydrated ourselves until it was time for the BBQ dinner.

They served some delicious grilled chicken and tri-tip, plus salad, watermelon, and garlic sourdough bread. I know I’m pretty easy to feed, especially after a day of riding, but this really hit the spot, and we wrapped up the evening with a Q&A panel of half a dozen experienced Tevis riders answering open forum questions posed to them.

Some interesting tidbits were picked up, but my biggest takeaway from the panel is “you need to figure out what works best for you and your individual horse.” If you get the same/similar enough answer on a subject from half a dozen very experienced people, then it’s likely that is a reliable tidbit to file away as “critical information” for later.

But things like shoes/splint boots/electrolytes are all such personal topics that depend very much on the individual horse and rider, and you can try to emulate a person and everything they do as much as you want, but that isn’t going to guarantee you the same level of success if that particular protocol isn’t appropriate for your horse or you as a rider.

Anyway…after the panel wrapped up, Cathy and I made a quick decision after looking at saddles, Dean’s girth rub, and girth options…since we had each saddle set up for ourselves with our individual packs, etc., and since the saddle Cathy was riding was rigged just slightly different than the one I was riding, rather than switch everything between the saddles, we would keep our saddles and just switch horses. Unconventional, I guess, but it worked.

So Sunday morning saw me crawling out of bed and repeating the same morning routine of riding clothes/coffee/breakfast. I had already filled my water pack and set saddle snacks out, so I just had to stuff bottles and snacks into the pommel pack, put front boots on, tack up, and we were ready to go.

Sunday’s route was a point-to-point of California Loop up Driver’s Flat Rd, at which point we would be shuttled back to Foresthill. I did this exact same route last summer with Lucy and Kaity, and while I had a few “squeaky” moments, overall I was surprised by how “not scary” I found Cal Loop to be. (I’m sure it’ll feel different in the dark, but with my overactive imagination, it’s far better for me to go into a scenario knowing “yep, have already done this trail, we can handle it” than to be wondering just what the heck we’re traversing over.)

I also had the advantage today of being on the experienced horse — Tempest finished Tevis last year, so she knew where we were at as well. From the get-go she felt good, snorting softly as we trotted by the cemetery (another “I see dead people” horse), and striding out through town. Even if she did have to stare suspiciously at the liens in the road and any stop sign/crossing writing on the road.


“Slow? I don’t wanna go slow.” Theme of the day.

Dean and Cathy initially lead out once we passed through town and hit the trail, but Tempest was in fire-breathing dragon mode (which I’m familiar with thanks to Mimi) and was having way too much fun breathing down the more slow-moving Dean’s back, so I shuffled her to the front at the first appropriate moment and we led the way down Cal Loop.

I wasn’t sure what to expect the second time through — now that I had seen and knew what parts I considered kind of “scary,” would I be looking for them? Would it seem worse? There’s one exposed section with very little “catch vegetation” before Cal 1 that I hadn’t cared for, but for whatever reason, it didn’t even register in my brain this time. We reached Cal 1, and I had a moment of going “wait, we’re at Cal 1 already?”

Now, we did have a “moment” at one of the Dardanelles Creek crossings on the way to Cal 1. There was a very large step-down into a very rocky crossing — hard to find good footing, and the water depth was hard to see. I once again hopped off, this time making it across without getting soaked, but when Tempest went to cross, she slipped and did a very impressive flail/scramble to get through. If it gives you an idea of the degree of scramble, one of her fetlock interference boots ended up inside out and up near her hock.

Lesson learned: try to stay on the horse if at all possible on water crossings. I just wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get her to cross it without a major fight or a ridiculous cross-country leap over it. Hindsight, even the leap probably would have been better.

So much of Cal Loop is so trottable. The footing is good, for the most part, and the grades are gentle enough to allow for some good stretches of continuous trotting. Which Tempest was more than happy to oblige.

Just after Cal 1, we switched it up and put Dean in the front again. Fire-breathing dragon mode activated on Tempest again, and I got some good practice in riding off my core, and using seat and legs to keep her an appropriate distance back versus hanging in her mouth the whole time. We reached a fair-to-middling compromise on the issue.

The section between Cal 1 and Cal 2 was a little longer than I remembered, although fortunately there were some natural springs/creeks flowing for the horses to drink. But we did reach Cal 2, and set off down those switchbacks. I swear, this whole trail flows like a time warp, because the Cal 2 switchbacks were a lot shorter than I remembered.

The Ford’s Bar section — where you climb up, and then climb right back down — was just as nonsensical as I remembered. This area was a part of last year’s Trailhead Fire that burned just a few weeks before Tevis, but some of the greenery is already starting to come back.

The next section, between Ford’s Bar and Sandy Bottom, also had some “exposure” sections I hadn’t been real fond of previously, but I actually felt comfortable enough to trot through a good part of it this time. Tempest is really sure-footed and smooth, so it’s easy to feel really comfortable on her. She tended to “look” at things, especially rocks/logs, but all she would do was tip her head and start a little bit, and I never felt worried about her slipping or stepping off the trail.

Down at Sandy Bottom, we were fortunate enough to find an access point down to the river, so we took several minutes to go down and let the horses drink, and stand in the  water and cool off. After the previous day’s water-crossing episode, I was pretty immune to the whole “I don’t wanna get wet” thing, so tromped right into the river myself, getting knee deep, and using the horse sponge to thoroughly drench my head/neck.


Cathy with Dean in the foreground; me and my obnoxiously fluorescent sponge (and a sulking Tempest) in the back

Tempest didn’t find the river nearly as amusing as the rest of us. She drank well, but had to be begrudgingly dragged fetlock-deep into the water so I could more easily sponge her. (Also not an amusing trick, per her.)

That was the most refreshing 5-minute break ever, and totally worth the time spent.


down at Sandy Bottom

From there, it was a couple more miles along the river road to Francisco’s. Normally a check on the ride (an initially supposed to be a check for the Ed Ride), this time the road down to the check was too rutted out to be able to safely get vehicles/volunteers down to that point. They were able to get several troughs, hay, and some people snacks and waters, down to a spot just before Francisco’s, so we had a chance to get more water and let the horses eat for a few minutes before heading up to and through the Francisco’s meadow and up Driver’s Flat Rd.

We passed by the turnoff the trail takes to Poverty Bar — Tempest glanced that way, and then kept peering off to the side as we climbed the road, as if to say “Umm, don’t we go that way?” Nope, not this time. Climb, climb, climb we go, up ~1800′ in ~2 miles. Tempest was a climbing machine — any time I’d offer to let her stop in the shade, she’d brush off the offer and just keep marching.

The Lower Driver’s Flat parking lot was a welcome sight — hay and water for horses, food and cold water for people, and lots of shade to hang out and take a breather for a bit. They made this our finishing point, so when we vetted out, we were done for the day.

I forgot to get a pic of the vet card, but I do remember Tempest vetted out very well (she does a gorgeous in-hand trot-out), and had pulsed down to 52 by the time she was finished drinking.


hanging out at Driver’s Flat

We hung out around the troughs and in the shade for probably about 10 minutes after we were done, letting the horses eat and drink. At one point, I was sitting on the edge of the trough, and Tempest decided she was so thirsty, she was getting to that trough no matter what…pretty sure she was intent on pushing me in if I hadn’t slid out of the way fast enough. (That would be the side of her that qualifies for “mare ‘tude.”)

Then we moseyed up to the Upper Driver’s Flat parking lot where we were able to shuttle back to Foresthill with a couple of other riders. Got the ponies untacked and cleaned up, and while Cathy worked on packing up the trailer, I worked on removing hind boots.

There are a couple of ways you can go about removing glue-on boots. You can use a flat-head screwdriver and chisel between the hoof wall and boot wall and break the glue bond. You can chop the boot wall off in pieces with hoof nippers. Or you can cut the sole of the boot away and then peel the boot wall off the hoof wall. I opted for the third option.

You do want a horse that stands quietly, as you’re going to be working with a knife. If they don’t stand well, or have a tendency to fidget, maybe use one of the other options. Even with a quiet horse, be careful. It’s still an exposed knife blade. I use a straight edge box cutter, something I can adjust so that only a small amount of the blade is sticking out, just enough to penetrate the thickness of the boot wall. Cut around the outside of the boot, at the point where the boot wall joins the boot sole. Since there’s no glue on the sole of the hoof, once the cut is complete, you can pop the sole of the boot off the hoof. Then grab a corner of the boot wall and start peeling it off the hoof wall.

I had both horses hind boots off in about 15 minutes.

Very pleased with my experience in using glue-ons for the weekend. I love the ease and convenience of using a strap boot for training and the vast majority of rides I do. But for certain scenarios, it is really nice to have the glue-ons as an option.

The afternoon wrapped up with an awards presentation for our completion certificates (pictured at the top), and a giveaway prize raffle. (I actually won an ice pack shoulder wrap thing.) The ultimate prize, of course, was a Tevis entry. Nope, didn’t win the Tevis entry. ;)

Cathy headed out after awards — Tempest is slated to go to Tevis is year, so rather than haul all the way back to Vegas, and then back up to Tevis less than a month later, she found a place outside of Reno to keep the horses and will fly back in ahead of Tevis.

And I headed for Tevis Low Camp (aka Lucy’s, aka my Sierra Foothills home away from home), where I got a shower, pizza, beer, and lots of laughs and great conversation. Monday morning, Lucy deposited me off at the Sacramento airport (seriously, I know this place as well as Phoenix at this point), and I came home to two very happy pups.


It was an absolutely amazing weekend…ride management and all of the volunteers put on a fantastic ride, I learned a ton, and had a blast. I can’t thank Cathy enough for providing me the opportunity to participate in the Ed Ride weekend, and for sharing her ponies with me.

Next up: Food/Drink/Clothing/Tack/Afterthoughts