Ride Between the Rivers...or David keeps up with Goliath

Early on a Friday morning in early August, I loaded Gryphon in my rig and headed west on I-64, then south on I-81 to rendezvous with my longtime pal Jonie Brucker in Natural Bridge. Jonie had her 8-year old gelding Ghost, whom she bred and raised on her North Carolina farm along with Ghost's full sister, my 5-year old mare Siena. It was as if Gryphon knew Ghost was his pasturemate's big brother! They got along great despite the size disparity - Ghost being 5 inches taller and 350 lbs. heavier than Gryphon. 

This was Jonie's first time tackling Ride Between the Rivers in Randolph County (also known as "the Moonshine Ride"), and we agreed to use her larger rig and F-450 to travel the rest of the way, with my job being to help navigate all the twists and turns. It took three hours to travel just 165 miles, but we were rewarded with gorgeous views. Afternoon was spent setting up camp - we'd be able to crew from our trailer! - and visiting with friends and tack vendor Teddy Lancaster. We also went on a short ride and practiced crossing the Tygart River, during which time ride photographer Becky Pearman did me the favor of shooting some video for use in a work project about what co-op staff do in their free time.

Ride morning dawned cool and foggy. After Ghost saw several front runners gallop out of camp, it took about 5 miles for him to settle into a medium trot. Gryphon did his best to keep up, cantering whenever he started to fall behind. We missed a turn about halfway through and did a few extra miles, but both horses got excellent scores at the first vet check and at well in their adjacent paddocks. One of the front-runners, Laura from Ohio, was camped next to us and we shared some suggestions with her husband Chuck when we learned she'd had difficulty getting her horse to eat when it was in the first hold (she had already left on the second loop by the time we arrived).

Becky Pearman was creative in taking photos of everyone just as we started a long uphill climb; I call this one "practicing for Cougar Rock" (after the 100-mile Tevis Ride in California).

A enthusiastic young man in the 30-mile limited distance event, Roger from Northern Virginia, was going our pace on the tough second loop. We enjoyed talking with him and kept a lookout for large gravel chunks getting lodged in our horse's shoes during a long downhill grade. A few times one of us had to dismount and pry a stubborn piece out.

Back in the hold, the ride vets again gave our horses good scores and just before 2 p.m. we headed out on the final loop, a repeat of the first. About a half-mile out, was passed front runners Theresa Carroll and Laura, who had agreed to tie and not risk getting pulled at the finish. Austin Shafer, now old enough to ride unsponsored,  was about 10 minutes behind them.

I totally enjoyed the final loop, even with the threat of rain materializing into a steady drizzle. Ghost did most of the leading but by this point Gryphon kept up without too much difficulty. In the last 3 miles, we passed several riders who had slowed for various reasons, and finished just after 3:30 p.m. in 19th and 20th position.  The horses had a few hours to graze and rest while we packed up, with the goal of reaching main roads in Virginia before full darkness. This didn't quite happen! Jonie was a good sport about me routing her down a winding 8-mile "shortcut" south of Millboro that took 40 minutes to negotiate, but we got to my rig around 10 p.m. and I was home in my own bed by 1:30 a.m. Next stop: Virginia Highlands!

Further West to Wyoming..or "In Which I Survive My First 3-Day"

A few months back, I made plans to squeeze some endurance adventures onto a July trip to Vail, Colorado for a Touchstone Energy conference. I'd heard that the Shamrock ride in Wyoming was beautiful and arrived in Denver on July 4, the day before this three-day event started. Leslie Anderson from Longmont (who I'd met several years earlier through Brenda Baird Palermo, one of my oldest endurance pals), said she'd get me there and provide a horse for the first day, and the AERC Mountain Region folks put me in touch with another horse provider, Jack Evers.
Leslie's advice and gear were the key to my success. She had me start drinking water as soon as I reached her farm to adjust to the altitude and aridity. I downed 64 ounces while helping pack up, buying last-minute food and keeping her company on the three-hour drive north to Wheatland.

Held on the gigantic Dilts family ranch, this 21-year old ride is named for the nearby Shamrock saloon. Getting there requires 50 minutes of careful driving along primitive roads through two other ranches, so you end up more than 20 miles from any paved highway. The Dilts family is as likely to fly their plane to Laramie or Cheyenne for supplies as they are to drive! I heard Teddy with Running Bear Tack broke and axle the last time she negotiated this route.


Basecamp was in the front yard of the family's original homestead and featured plenty of green grass, although edible vegetation was almost nonexistent on the surrounding hills. Arriving at 7 p.m., we quickly built pens for Leslie's three Rushcreek horses (Ridge, Thunder and Quilt), registered for Friday's 55-mile ride and set up a pup tent so I'd have a place to sleep. I was up by 5 a.m. the next morning to help get ready for the 6:30 a.m. start.

Leslie warned that while Thunder had three years of endurance experience, he was still quite green, which I found out firsthand when I came around the corner of the trailer. He kicked without warning, striking the front of my upper left leg. I knew that   keeping my sore muscles moving would help more than anything so I finished tacking and we set out 15 minutes behind the others at a slow trot. Less than 5 minutes into the ride, Thunder was spooked by a rustle from one of my water bottles and took off running and bucking into the cactus and rocks. I lost my stirrups but never let go of the reins and with some calming words, he finally came to a stop about 50 yards east of the trail.

The rest of that 22-mile loop went smoothly, and my pitiful limp during the trot out was mitigated by both horses having great vet scores and CRIs. About 5 miles into the 19-mile second loop, we came across several riderless horses being held by one rider, with another rider sitting in the scant shade of a small pine tree. Turns out the wounded rider under the tree was my friend Claire Godwin from Maryland, who had been charged by a 2,000 lb Angus bull after trying unsuccessfully to shoo him off the trail. Bummed for Claire, who had planned to tackle the Big Horn 100 the following weekend on her other horse Rev, who'd just won the Old Dominion 100, we continued on. The first half of the loop featured a series of small canyons that required both hand on mane for a scramble to the top, followed by dismounting to lead one's horse on a careful descent on loose lava-rock type pebbles.

Later in the loop, Leslie and I took over as sponsors for Claire's junior of the same name, a tall 15-year old everyone hilariously referred to as "Little Claire." She had been riding with a local rider who started suffering the effects of the 90+ degree heat and stayed back to rest while the three of us set up on the windy "high plains" second half of that loop. At the second vet check, Little Claire's horse Salut was acting up without his buddy (Claire's horse Amos), so I explained the situation to the vet and helped Little Claire handle the restless and unruly gelding, distracting him with a big wad of hay.

Several other riders, including Libby Llop from New York State, accompanied us on the last loop, which was only 12 miles long and featured many crossings of the same little stream. As we passed through a small box canyon, the Wyoming weather, always unpredictable, turned violent and windy. We trotted the last two miles in a steady rain that had ended by the time we vetted through for our completions. Leslie was so pleased with the vet scores for both her geldings that she agreed to let me ride Ridge the following day, while she took out her mare Quilt.

Snuggled in my pup tent around 12:45 am Saturday morning, I was awakened by whinnying horses and flashes of lightning, followed by rumbles of thunder. Abandoning the sagging tent, I grabbed my sleeping bag and spent the "wee hours" in the cab of Leslie's truck as more rain poured down.

Saturday's ride went smoothly - Ridge was a calm, steady mount and I had time to enjoy the scenery and even snap a few photos with my I-phone. Whenever we came across Angus cattle on trail, we gave them a wide berth - despite the risk of encountering rattlesnakes in the scrub and rocks beside the established trail.

I had a good base tan and was using 50 SPF sunscreen, but at 8,000 feet elevation discovered that even these were no protection against sun poisoning. During the first hold, I saw the red bumps of sun poisoning on my left arm and quickly donned one of Leslie's extra long-sleeved fisherman's shirts and a set of gloves, then added a towel under my helmet to block the sun on my ears and already-red neck.  Also, if you don't re-apply lip balm every hour or so your lips might crack, blow up like balloons or both!

With my body better protected, the rest of the ride went smoothly. We again finished around 6 p.m., then enjoyed the Shamrock ride's legendary mix of fresh-cooked pork, beef and chicken BBQ for Saturday dinner. There was no sign of Jack Evers, so I started worrying about whether I'd have a mount for the third day or not. He showed up just before dark, along with two young college students Jesse and Joe who helped set up his corrals.

I immediately liked Whynot, Jack's big Appy broodmare who reminded me of Shiloh. Jack is AERC number 208, which means he's been doing this sport for nearly 40 years! A rider from the "old school," he uses English saddles, plus had very little extra gear, so I borrowed a breast collar, running martingale and saddle bags from Leslie and tacked Whynot up to adjust everything before hitting the sack.

Sunday was the most fun of all, listening to Jack's many tales, but also was a true test of my horsemanship. On the first loop, Whynot needed quite a bit of "rating" to keep from going faster than her limited conditioning made sensible, so that running martingale helped me keep control. Two-thirds of the way through that long loop, we were talking about Jack's career as a part-time farrier (he's also a consultant and college teacher for oil drilling), when Whynot's right front shoe came loose. I dismounted and twisted it off so the loose nails wouldn't pierce her sole, stowing the shoe in my saddlebag since there were no spare horseshoes back in camp. Neither of us had an Easyboot on board, so I hand walked her a long 7 miles into camp, sending Jack on ahead to scout up some tools since he had left his tools at home and there was no ride farrier. By the grace of God, a young cowboy doing his first endurance ride happened to be in basecamp and loaned Jack his farrier tools so he could nail on that shoe while I fed both horses.

Whynot was sound with all "A"s on her vet card, but had an elevated CRI so I borrowed some of Leslie's electrolytes to help make sure she drank enough on the second loop. She seemed to appreciate my careful riding - I was careful to change diagonals regularly and also dismounted frequently to lead her down hills and open each of the Western gates for Jack (who is in his mid-70s), hand feeding both horses some grass whenever I found any. We carefully sponged and cooled both horses before the vet second check, but Whynot's second CRI was still high. The vets didn't seem too concerned since she had all A's otherwise. Rubbing Desitin and baby powder on galls that had started along her girth line, I borrowed one of Leslie's fleece-lined girths and fed my hard working mare all of our remaining carrots. saying "Just 12 more miles old girl!"


I dragged my heels on the last loop, I just didn't want those amazing trails to end. Whynot vetted through just fine (except for her CRI, of course) and I earned 165 more AERC miles under my belt. After helping Jack and Leslie pack up (both left that night), I crashed on a bed in Claire's trailer that she graciously offered since I staying one more night and was driving Libby's son's rental car back to Denver the following morning. Shamrock was my first experience with endurance riding out west, but it won't be my last. My body held up much better than I expected and I learned volumes about what to pack and how to prepare. Can't wait for next summer when I hope to return!

West to Ohio!

I'd wanted to return to the scenic Scioto trails in southern Ohio ever since I'd first ridden them back in 2005 on a borrowed horse. Under the auspices of OATTS, the Ohio Arabian & All-Breed Trail Riding Society, Mollie Krumlaw and her local friends put on two AERC competitions each year, one in June and one in September.

The week leading up to the June ride, I'd been in D.C. taking photos during the Electric Co-op Youth Tour (1,600 high school seniors from 43 states!), which wrapped up Thursday afternoon. The day before, I'd learned Lisa Green & her mare wouldn't be able to go with me and started calling other endurance friends, hoping I wouldn't have to take Gryphon by himself on such a long trip.

Jenny Poling, an old friend from West Virginia, came through for me - she said Liz Stout's mare was recovering from an injury, she didn't have any plans until Sunday and was game for riding my little mare Siena despite the short notice. Liz would travel with Jenny and her daughter Kelsie and we'd have time Friday afternoon for Liz to do a test ride on Siena.

The trip there went smoothly - I finished packing before dark, got 6 hours of sleep, and left home before 3 a.m. The miles flew by, aided by a book on CD. With brief stops for diesel and letting the horses graze near West Virginia's New River Gorge (the halfway point), I rolled into the sunny basecamp field before 11 a.m. Parking as close as possible to the crewing area, a set up my corral popup tent to keep the horses cool, then provided them big tubs of soaked beet pulp. I was even able to catch a quick nap before Jenny, Liz and Kelsie arrived at 1 p.m. Our test ride later that afternoon gave Liz a chance to see how my treeless saddle felt, and we moved the pop up tent to the crewing area, knowing it would help the horses cool and pulse down more quickly when they came off trail.

With a 6 a.m. start for the 50 milers and 6:30 for the 25s, everyone hoped to get most of their miles done before the temperatures became too toasty. But by the five mile mark, zigging up and down short but steep changes in elevation, I could tell this was going to be a long day, with only occasional breezes to break the humidity. During the first hold, we made some tack-related changes, borrowing a breast collar for Gryphon (since one of mine had been left behind at Lisa's) and adding rear interference boots on both horses (the technical footing plus a several-week old shoeing job were causing them to knock their inside fetlocks more than usual). Gryphon has come a long way in just nine months, evolving from a worried, difficult-to-handle rescue horse to a bright-eyed, confident endurance horse, but it was still helpful to have his buddy Siena for company. I dosed them every two hours with electrolytes and buffer and they drank - and ate - well all day despite temperatures reaching over 90 degrees.

The second loop included three miles of gravel road, which we rode with Emily Richardson, who is a foxhunter and endurance rider in her late 70s showing no signs of stopping her horse pursuits! During the vetting at the halfway point hold, one of the vets thought Siena took some bad steps on her left front foot. Wishing she had a more recent shoeing job - there were more rocks on trail than I'd remembered - we soaked that leg in ice water and re-trotted her ourselves before heading back out. She seemed fine, but we decided to go slower and hand walk down all the longer hills.

All was well at the final hold, but we stayed in camp a few more minutes to let our horses rest. I also dosed them with honey for energy and massage both horses' haunches and inner thighs, which were starting to get stiff from all the climbs. Jenny and Kelsie successfully completed their 25 mile ride (they had six hours to complete but Jenny's horse pulsed down with just a minute to spare, after a hair-raising adventure on the first loop when her young horse Vinney got loose, making that loop take longer than expected!)

Liz was able to borrow Kelsie's saddle at this point - her legs weren't having an easy time adjusting to the Wintec stirrup leathers on my saddle. The last loop was a repeat of the first loop from earlier that day, but seemed like a brand new trail, given our slow pace that gave me time to savor the scenery. Liz, a biologist with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service in Elkins, WV, was able to listen to a bird call and tell right away what species it was. She also knew most every type of tree and plant we encountered, including an invasive Chinese grass, which was everywhere. On a common section of trail used for both the 3rd and 4th loops, we passed Ranger and Michael, who were carefully leading their horses. I shared some of my extra Gatorade and cautioned that they'd need to get back to camp by 4 p.m. or might not make the 6 p.m. cutoff time for the 50-mile ride. We also caught up to two ladies from Louisville, KY and finished just ahead of them around 3:30 p.m.

With the sun beating down mercilessly, we untacked and cooled the horses as best we could (no ice left!), then headed to the vets for the completion exam. Worried about Siena, I trotted her out for Liz and the vet shook his head. "She's off both coming and going on that right front," (which meant a consistent grade 3 lameness and no completion), plus he noticed that she had a flutter in her flank area called "thumps" that results from an electrolyte imbalance.

When bringing two horses instead of one, I'd forgotten to pack extra Enduramax, developed by Jeannie Waldron, DVM for East Coast heat and humidity. Even though both horses had been frequently electrolyted all day, the mix was mostly Perform'n'Win and just didn't have enough oomph in the mineral department. Gryphon completed just fine - his 7th 50 this year - and we headed over to the shade to give Siena some calcium gluconate, which quickly cleared up her thumps, and continue cooling both horses while letting them graze.

Emily Richardson had left 45 minutes earlier than us on the last loop, but we never passed her on trail and she was not in camp when we completed, so I alerted her crew and ride management, who took a four-wheeler out looking. It was past 5 p.m. and ride management was getting ready to send out hired and alert the local EMS/Fire Dept. when happily Emily and Comet showed up unharmed. Emily was tired but in good spirits and as best we can figure, they somehow did much of that last loop twice.

With Emily was safely back in camp, we finished packing up and I also poultice both horses with a heavy dash of "Sore No More" squooshed into the paste. Both rigs headed out to the highway as cooler evening temperatures creeped in, Jenny turning left on Rt 35 and me turning right. By midnight, I'd reached my friend Lynne's place off I-81 in Virginia, where she'd generously offered use of her guest paddock. The horses looked wonderful when I woke up Sunday morning to load them up for the last three hours to get home, and they both trotted out joyfully (and soundly) when I let them loose in their home pasture.

Fast Forward

Having my own place meant I could keep more than one horse! For several years, between 2003 and 2012, Shiloh rested after each competition while I switched my attention to training other horses. Several were "off the track" Arabians that I got used to trail situations and then resold, providing a much-appreciated supplement to my income. 
In 2007, I was given a young Saddlebred Arabian cross bred by Dana Reeder and named for Frank Farmer, a well-known Virginia foxhunter and endurance rider who'd been part-owner of Frank's sire Brown R Sashaa.
"Brown R Frank" was wonderful to ride - the above photo shows us at the Broxton, SC ride on Easter Saturday 2010. However, Frank started having issues with his hocks and by 2011, the year 19-year-old Shiloh passed the 5,000 AERC mile mark, I regretfully accepted that he just wasn't cut out for one-day rides of 50 miles or more. I sadly returned Frank to Dana and he's now happily resettled in a non-endurance home.

In July 2012, with Shiloh deserving a full retirement and Siena, the 3-year old mare I'd purchased from another friend, not yet old enough to compete, my friend Barb Horstmeier convinced me to adopt a scrappy little mystery horse from a Pennsylvania rescue. We were given no information about this horse, not even a name, so I came up with "Gryphon," the mythological cross between an eagle and a lion. How prophetic this choice proved to be!

The January 2013 issue of AERC Extra leads with my article about how I rehabbed Gryphon, who became quite a challenge to work with as he gained weight & strength. He clearly had been abused and was very nervous and mistrustful in certain situations, but my experience working with different horses - plus ability to stay on board no matter what - paid off. In April, Barb found out Gryphon was part Saddlebred like Frank - his neck and back are longer than a pure Arab and he has a super comfortable stride, so I wasn't that surprised. As a strong bond of friendship grew between us, I recognized a puppy-dog personality like Frank's lay beneath the "gangsta" behavior. Adding magnesium pellets to his diet as a calming agent helped too! By June 2013, after eight 50 mile rides in nine months, I could finally post to Facebook that my scary, defiant little rescue horse had morphed into a confident, happy endurance horse.

In 2002, I realized a lifelong dream in purchasing my own 6-acre place just 23 miles northeast of Richmond, VA. I'd no longer need to board and Shiloh could come home! My dad designed a supercool house with a view from my bedroom windowseat of the front pasture and we moved in just before Hurricane Isabel struck in September 2003. I was shell-shocked by the destruction, but my now-husband Shan fetched a chainsaw and generator from his North Carolina relatives and we leapt into the never-ending cycle of grass cutting and tending our "farm"

The Grumpy Old Man

There's a 1970 photo of me as a three-year old, petting a chestnut horse with a white blaze in Colonial Williamsburg soon after my parents moved back to the U.S. from London, where my dad had earned his doctorate degree.

After many years of my begging for a horse, the year I turned 13 our family's eccentric but kind friend Lila Young offered me a gangly, slightly lame old chestnut Thoroughbred with a white blaze.  I dug post holes and strung electric wire in the field behind our house while my dad converted an old smokehouse to store hay and provide shelter. No trailer was available, so I rode "Wether" the seven miles from Lila's to our house. In the years that followed, we covered miles and miles together in all weather -- especially on evenings before a big test, which I found helped me study better. When I left for college, Wether was retired to Mr. Huber's farm near Smithfield.

For most of the next decade, horseback riding was an elusive pursuit. I took a semester of jumping in college and borrowed some Indian ponies to a ride around the mesas of Northern Arizona the year I lived in the Southwest, but otherwise focused on finishing graduate school and being able to provide for myself.

By age 27, I accomplished two major life goals: landing a "real" job with benefits and purchasing my first home in Richmond, Virginia. I turned my focus to a lifelong dream of purchasing my own horse. This was in the days before the internet, so I bought a February 1995 issue of the 79 cent "Trading Post" and my eye immediately fell on a brief ad for a flashy chestnut half Arab, "e/on trails."

My first glimpse of Shiloh was love at first sight. I didn't bother looking at any other horses before buying him for $1,100 and getting Trish (his breeder) to haul him to my first boarding barn, near New Kent Courthouse. Shiloh was barely three and only green broke, his wise, kind disposition was already in evidence and we went on to survive many adventures over the next two decades. This blog is dedicated to my "Grumpy Old Man," the horse who helped me discover how wonderful the sport of endurance riding can be.