Stories

For me, every endurance ride seems to start with the drive. Or maybe it begins with packing the trailer. For the Pacific Crest ride on July 2, 2005, it definitely began with the drive.

I'm sure I was spoiled in So Cal by living within a few hours of most of the PS region's rides, and I'm going to have to get used to the longer drives up here in the NW region. But, Friday's drive still seemed a bit excessive for a one-day ride. I had checked out the driving directions and according to Yahoo the drive would take a little over five hours. I figured I'd tack on another hour because of pulling the trailer. However, I failed to consider that it was the Friday before a holiday weekend. Woops.

I don't want this to turn into the Pacific Crest Drive Story, so I'll skip over the details here. Suffice to say it wasn't my favorite part of the weekend. If you are interested, do check out the details.

So, Phlyrt and I were finally at the ridecamp. It only took seven plus hours. It felt like a lifetime. We were one of the last rigs to pull into camp, verified by our ride number which was only one or two numbers lower than the number of 50s who started the ride Saturday. However, as late as we were, we were there prior to the vets. So, Phlyrt had time to settle in and there was no rush to get vetted.

The ridecamp itself was in a cow/hay pasture that had just been cut to allow us to park our rigs there. The ground was covered in newly cut grass, and horses were having a blast. The pasture was nestled in the trees and simply lovely.

Shortly after our arrival, the head vet arrived and a line formed instantly. Phlyrt and I joined the line to wait our turn. It was a slow-moving line, but we made it through and were good to go. The ride meeting was held just as darkness was falling and it was finally time to go to bed. I was already feeling like I'd done my endurance for the weekend and I hadn't even been on the horse yet!

After bundling up in ride clothes covered in sweats, I tucked into the sleeping bag and didn't come out again until 5am. I woke up a time or two, of course, but all I did was check the time and pull the covers over my head again.

At 5am I braved the cold to change Phlyrt's hay out for fresh, put on her Easyboot Epics, and force myself to eat some breakfast. Pretty soon it was time to tack up and mount up for the 6:30 start. Phlyrt was a bundle of nerves, worse than I've seen her in a long time. So, while I'd been toying with the idea of attempting to start the ride in her sidepull I decided not to risk it and the snaffle went in her mouth. Poor thing hasn't had it on since October and the start of her last 50. Come to think of it, maybe putting in the bit might be helping to trigger the ride-start excitement. I'm not sure I want to test that theory, however, by heading down the trail in a pack of horses and only the sidepull. Not yet anyway. For now she'll start rides in the bit, and I'll remove it at the first vet check letting her finish rides in the sidepull. Better safe than sorry.

The ride start was on the other side of the road. Since Phlyrt was so antsy, I decided to head over and just head out when start was called - forward motion rather than useless expenditures of energy. The result was that for the first part of the ride we rode along with the front runners. Phlyrt was enjoying herself, and lest my comments about her being "antsy" or excited make one think she misbehaves, let me clear that right up. All she does is perk up her ears and head down the trail. She does pull enough that she might go right through her sidepull, but she is always a good girl overall and respects the bit.

The trail started out on a dirt road, but quickly dropped off the road and out across a prairie. In the prairie we crossed a muddy stream, but it was far too early for even Phlyrt to consider drinking. Past the prairie, the trail headed up a gravel road. At this point I slowed Phlyrt down to get us separated from the front runners. However, as we were still catching glimpses of them, Phlyrt was still eager to keep going fast.

The trail then met up with an asphalt road that we crossed to go into a horse camp. The camp was loaded with people out enjoying the holiday weekend with their horses. We trotted through their camp and across to a stream, where the ride photographer was set up. Phlyrt, who "never" refuses to cross water, and has swum across rivers, decided she'd never seen water before and acted like a clown for the photographers. I swear they know when they have an audience. And particularly an audience armed with cameras.

The next section of trail was simply beautiful. We were trotting through the woods on the "Lake Trail" that skirted the edge of a lake. I would have loved to pull out the camera, but Phlyrt was still a bit too forward for me to feel I could do so without risking dropping the camera. The air was filled with the scent of camp fires.

We were still occasionally catching up with some of the riders ahead of us, but each time I'd just slow Phlyrt a bit and ask her to walk for a short stretch as I didn't want her feeling the need to pass them. Finally some riders came up from behind and passed us; I had been starting to wonder when that would happen. I thought it was a bit odd that we were still positioned in the "top ten" and was surprised it took so long for others to catch up.

After going off-trail briefly at "The Arm," a wide open clearing and creek crossing, I relocated the trail and we trotted up a short stretch of dirt road and finally onto the Pacific Crest Trail. On the PCT there would be no ribbons, except to let us know if we were to turn off of it.

We went up and up the PCT. It's a beautiful winding single track trail through the woods. A few more people passed us, and another horse & rider (Karen) rode with Phlyrt and me for a while. The two of us (four if you count the horses) finally reached Vet Check 1 at mile 19 a bit after 9:15am.

Phlyrt sucked down water while I struggled to remove her bit, and then she got her pulse taken. Just then a huge group of riders came into the hold. I knew that meant we'd finally be passed by more riders on the next leg. I covered her butt with her leopard print rump rug and took her beet pulp and some hay for her to munch on while waiting for the vet. After her trot out the vet commented that Phlyrt was the first horse she'd seen that didn't look tired. She then spent the remainder of the 30 minute hold chowing down. I watched the horses trotting for the vet and saw at least two pulled for lameness. Single track trail with all the rocks and roots will do that.

After the hold I mounted back up and managed to leave only a few minutes past our official out time. The trail went up a gravel road and then back onto the PCT. A short way out from the vet check, I pulled out a protein bar and had a snack myself. Some riders came up behind us and rode along at our speed for a while. As we crested a rise we had a beautiful view of what we decided must have been Mt. Shasta. The trail descriptions said something about Mt. Baldy, but the other riders felt sure the mountain we were seeing was too big to be Baldy.

Finally the other riders decided to go on faster than Phlyrt and I were going so we were alone again. I pulled out the camera and shot some photos of the beautiful wild flowers growing in the woods. There was an array of flowers, almost all of them white, and I was engrossed in enjoying them and the bird songs and just walking and slowly trotting along this peaceful single track trail.

At the water stop 6.5 miles away from the vet check we caught up with the three riders who had passed us earlier. Two of them were together, but after several miles of leap-frogging the third rider and I decided that as we were going generally the same speed we might as well stick together. As it turned out Mack (Mr. Mackenzie), a 15.3 Quarab, and Phlyrt were so well matched in speed that his rider, Sky, and I stuck together for the rest of the ride.

The next section of trail was "Browns Mt. Trail" which was more single track with numerous water crossings. Then we went down some gravel road, where the two (four) of us passed the other two riders again. After another water stop we headed into a section that weaved in and around smaller trees without a clearly defined trail. The four (eight) of us leap-frogged each other through here as first one set and then the other would miss turns.

Three hours after leaving Vet Check 1 we reached Vet Check 2. This was exactly my target time for this 17 mile leg. Phlyrt pulsed right down, and I pulled her tack for the vet. After vetting we settled down in the trees for our hour hold. Mack and Phlyrt peacefully stood by each other and shared beet pulp and hay, while Sky and I ate our lunches and rested ourselves.

An hour is over faster than you know. We got tack back on the horses and headed out (only about five minutes late) for the last 13 miles back into camp. Most of this leg was old dirt and gravel roads. The two (four) of us enjoyed the ride, alternating between walking, trotting, and cantering and we leap-frogged with various other groups of riders, some groups passing us for good since we were in no hurry and just enjoying the beautiful day. Mack is a canter horse, and while Phlyrt would occasionally canter with him if I asked her to, she would mostly trot along next to him without a problem. Don't tell her she's a good six inches shorter than him.

Like the other legs, this one had lots of water, both natural streams and troughs, where Phlyrt and Mack both repeatedly proved that they're good drinkers. Phlyrt also was enjoying munching on grass when we'd walk past tempting morsels. She's so good at taking care of herself and has become an opportunistic eater, even on conditioning rides.

Before we knew it - or at least before I knew it - we'd come down a dirt road, rounded a corner, and there was the finish line. We finished this leg in just over 2 hours with a ride time of 8:13. Exactly in the time frame I'd hoped to complete.

After walking back across the road, untacking and giving Phlyrt a quick brushing, we met back up with Sky and Mack for our final vetting. Both horses finished strong and sound.

Sky and I spent a while hanging out and eating dinner, then I took a nap waiting for the awards. After the awards and one last walk around camp with Phlyrt, I passed out for the night. Frighteningly, I was back up again at 5am. It was much colder Sunday morning than it had been Saturday. The grass was covered in frost, and I'm sure Phlyrt's water would have been iced over if she hadn't drunk all of it overnight.

I didn't want to start up the truck until more people in camp were awake, so I walked Phlyrt around some and started my initial packing up. By 6:30 camp was waking up and I felt it wasn't too rude to head out. We hit the road at 6:40am. Yes, we took the "long, easier" route back to the freeway, which turned out to be a lovely scenic drive through the forest. The drive home was nice and uneventful with none of Friday's challenges. It also took just about six hours, which had been what I'd planned on for Friday.

At home I turned Phlyrt out in her pasture. If it hadn't been for the numbers on her butt, you'd never know she'd gone anywhere. I sure love that horse.

Friday morning I was ready to roll by 10:30 and headed out with Phlyrt packed safely in the trailer. Incredibly, the drive through Portland wasn't all that bad; that was the one area I was dreading the traffic. It wasn't clear sailing, but not awful.

Somewhere south of Portland and already over two hours from home I realized that I didn't have the checkbook, and I'd need it to enter the ride. After my initial panic attack I realized I would just have to get cash out of an ATM when I stopped for gas, and that it was no big deal.

Then, cruising south of Salem traffic came to an abrupt halt. Seven miles & 45 minutes later we finally made it past the accident. I was seriously starting to consider the ramifications of hauling so far for a one-day ride. If I hadn't already gone so far, there was a real temptation to turn around and head home. But, I knew that by now there would be ugly traffic going through Portland - not to mention going north back past that accident - so forget it, I was going to keep going and eventually I'd get to the ride.

In motion again, I was constantly reminded of what odd drivers Oregonians are. Here I am hauling a monster of a four-horse trailer and I actually had to go around cars in the slow lane. I've never seen people so eager to drive under the speed limit. And, of course, the freeway was packed with holiday weekend traffic. At least there was only one more accident to get past, and that one didn't have the super long hold up like the one earlier.

About 250 miles from home, somewhere still north of Grants Pass, my gas light came on. And, true to form, it was while going up and down in the hills, so I knew I shouldn't push my luck. I passed several tiny hamlets without much at their exits and finally gave up and pulled off at an exit with "gas" on the sign. Just my luck, I'd found a gas station without an ATM. In fact, I'd found a town with only a gas station and nothing else. The gas station itself even looked abandoned, but it was open. Nice chatty gas station attendant, if you could look past his lack of teeth.

Now, the directions to the ridecamp said you could exit at Medford and drive some additional 40 miles or something in the mountains, or you could exit at Ashland and drive about 15 miles in the mountains. As I'd already gone almost 300 miles and over six hours and was getting quite cranky, I decided to go for the "short steep" route out of Ashland. I figured given our road and driveway, I could handle short and steep.

Not knowing what would be at my Ashland exit, I got off one exit prior to top off the gas tank and get cash. I'm not sure how it's possible, but the major chain gas station that I stopped at didn't have an ATM. At the attendant's suggestion, I ran across the street, dodging traffic, to check at the gas station across the street. Guess what? No ATM there, either. The cashier, however, told me that the convenience store at the bottom of the hill had one and that I should be able to get in and out with my trailer. I'm not sure he saw my trailer, since it was across the street, but I was running out of options.

Running back across traffic, I then had to pull the trailer out across traffic yet again. Did I mention I must have found the busiest street in southern Oregon? There were more cars at this exit than I'd seen in the last several hours on the freeway.

I drove down to the convenience store, and viewed the parking lot with horror. I could get in, but could I get back out across traffic?? No choice for it, however, as I was going to have to get turned around one way or another, and that meant back across traffic again.

Just in case you were starting to worry about me (or poor Phlyrt back in the trailer!), let me assure you that I got cash to pay for my ride entry and somehow got the trailer safely back across the busy street and then back onto the freeway to go down one more exit. Of course, there were gas stations there. I bet they even had ATMs.

Now we headed up that "short steep" route to ridecamp. I didn't think it was all that terrible. I only had to pull over a couple times to let people pass me. And the truck didn't blow up. However, when I got into camp and later told a few people that I'd taken that route I was greeted with shock that I had tried it and made it. Must have been worse than I thought; I guess after the rest of the drive, it didn't seem like that big a deal. Everyone told me to be sure to take the other route out on Sunday. Ok, no problem.

Seven plus hours after leaving home in SW Washington, we'd made it to the bottom of the state of Oregon. Guess it wasn't all that bad if you look at it that way.

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