More Seat Shimming - Fergus' 16" Eurolite

For past info on "Things I Have Done", refer to these two posts:
Fergus Saddle Update (scroll down to "More Tweaks") and
Saddles - Work in Progress (scroll down to "Shimming the 16" Specialized Eurolite")

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Cantle Bolster:

Fergus' new Specialized Eurolite felt great for Virginia City 100, but by the time we got to 20 Mule Team 100 it wasn't doing quite as well. A last-minute (literally - I added it on the Friday afternoon before the 100 miler - figuring I could always pull it out at the first vet check if it wasn't working) addition was to velcro my half-moon-shaped (Sensation) cantle bolster under the seat.

Despite the miles I'd done in this 16" saddle, I still felt like I was swimming around in it so thought this bolster might help for those accelerating-moments Fergus has occasionally (the ones that flip me off the back of the cantle). It probably makes the saddle a little too snug now, so I maybe have to make something similar that isn't quite as bulky, but at least it helped a bit.

Cantle bolster velcroed behind the seat. I raised it a little for NV Derby, so it was slightly less bulky,
but probably still need something a little narrower - right now, this is still a bit too much. 

That said, at about mile 55 on 20MT, my right IT band started to get whiny and by the end of the ride—despite repeated stretching whenever I was out of the saddle—it had seized up altogether. No more trotting for us. Luckily we were riding with Brenna and TWH Sky, so did a lot of big-gait walk, but it was disappointing all the same to no longer be able to trot at the end.

The only other time I've suffered from this problem was riding Roo on VC100 - never with Fergus before, so that was a bit of a mystery. Until I started thinking about how my feet are a lot more underneath me when I ride in my Sensation on Roo - and with the addition of the cantle bolster to the 16" Specialized, I was effectively moving me forwards in the saddle and bringing my stirrups more underneath me. Huh.

So another adjustment this month was to move the stirrups forwards on the Eurolite. I don't have them screwed in to the tree, so figure they'll self-adjust somewhat. They felt fine for NV Derby 50, but like I say, I only had the problem after about 55 miles, so that might not be significant.

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Seat Comfort:

Whether it was because we walked/gaited more during 20MT 100, so I was in the saddle more, or whether the padding I'd added for VC100 had already deteriorated, I'm not sure. Either way, my delicates and seat bones suffered greatly. So for the last month or so, I've been putzing around with some ideas.

The first option was to try using Supracor as padding. Ash had a strip lying around from another project so kindly sent it up to me. I cut a narrower strip to go under the seat and rode in it. Too wide under my adductors. So I shaped it somewhat and rode again - still too wide. I think Supracor is the wrong material for this - it works well as a sheet, but doesn't taper well at the edges, so was too bulky under my leg, instead of fading subtly into nothingness. Rode once more with that set-up and decided it wasn't going to work - too much padding - so took it out:

Holding the Supracor up, so you can see the Specialized shims underneath

Holding the Supracor up, so you can see the Specialized shims underneath

Supracor flopped into place and fat pommel bolster added.
You can see my attempts to shape the Supracor under my adductors

Supracor flopped into place and fat pommel bolster added
You can see my attempts to shape the Supracor under my adductors

Seat flopped down on top. The purple things are my Sensation knee rolls,
velcroed to the underside of the unfastened (at the front) seat

So I removed the Supracor and readjusted the Specialized shims under the seat a little and it gave me enough twist to work fine for the 50 at NV Derby last weekend:

Flat strips of Specialized shim to add twist to the front of the saddle.
The object of the exercise is to raise up the center, so your legs aren't being spread so widely apart.
With more bulk in the middle, your leg can hang slightly straighter.

Flat strips of Specialized shim to add twist to the front of the saddle (and the fat pommel bolster). 

Once the seat is down, who would know you had all that stuff under there?
unfortunately, the velcro on the pommel bolster peeks out of the front slit in the seat,
so it still needs the sheepskin on the top:

Sheepskin added and - voila - enough twist

Sheepskin added and - voila - enough twist

But the seat is still way too hard. No matter what, Fergus' way of going will never be described as "smooth" and being repeatedly slammed into the saddle for 50 to 100 miles is taking its toll. When asked "how is your ride going?" the correct answer is probably not "My crotch is on fire" (which was my response). 

On Sunday I prodded Brenda's new Specialized seat and - huh - that is way cushier than my old used one.

So I have two choices - apparently Specialized have some discounted leftover seats from random sources. If I trace my seat and send them the tracing, they will try to match it as best they can. This might be a good option, since I may be able to get something that will cover the knee rolls a little better (the attachment-velcro still pokes out the front a little and I keep snagging my rope reins on it).

Or Option #2 is to invest in one of these $55 Thinline Seatsavers. This might help. But it might not. But it's probably cheaper than the Specialized seat. And money is tight right now.

Still musing on my options, so will see. Leaning towards the new Specialized seat.

Thoughts on Small Thing

At the weekend, I heard Small Thing whinny. It was about 4 a.m. and it woke me up. Except it wasn't him whinnying because he went away.

I always described him as the most fun you could have on horseback.

• He made me laugh. Every. Single. Day.
• I loved how small he was, because he was so easy to be around. He came in a manageable package and was the perfect size for me.
• He hated to be fussed with - like a small school boy, if you tried to tidy his hair or brush his face, he'd duck out of the way. That didn't stop me giving him his daily hug, though.
• His thought processes were subtly different to the big horses. He'd make choices about where to go and what to do that they never would - mostly because he could. It kept me on my toes. And it made me laugh.
• He was always the most vocal one out there - in the mornings if you weren't going out to feed straight away, then you'd better be quiet around the house, because he'd be whinnying the second he heard any signs of stirring. 
• He had a deep-throated frog whicker and a high-pitched whinny, and he was always very chatty and would talk as you came up. Any time you took him out in the trailer on his own, he'd whinny at you any time you stopped and in peered through the window. He did it that last day when I stopped to check on him going through the canyon.
• He could drop and roll and jump up again and look gumby-like doing it - there was nothing lumbering about him. 
• He was light on his feet and could jump like a cat from a standstill. Clever on his feet, he was never clattery - he would take quick little steps in rough terrain.
• He almost never panicked when he got stuck - he'd jam his feet in spaces then have to figure out how to get them out - not panicking, just mildly irritated that he'd gotten stuck.
• He hated going through overgrown yellow star thistle on the trail when it spiked him in the legs.
• He was good-natured (although could pin his ears and act crabby at feeding time), and although he never kicked me, I never quite trusted his rear end. It's not that he'd kick maliciously, more that he'd kick out reactively before he even knew he'd done it. 
• He was very herd-oriented - if we were out with others and got too far ahead, he'd stop and wait for them, looking back, waiting for them to catch up - even if it was just pft on a mtn bike. 

Losing Small Thing was more than just losing a horse. He wasn't just a horse, he was something different - something so fun and so uplifting - and most of all he was mine - he was the product of a specific path that I took on my own, with no support group. He wasn't a horse who would ever be passed on to anyone else and I figured I'd have him for the next 30 years at least.

From 15 months on, I was there every step of the way. I watched on anxiously when he was gelded, I watched him grow up (with anxiety as he got closer to needing saddle training), sent him to summer school for basic saddle education, and then went through his continuing education step-by-step. Every ride was an adventure and every excursion was fun.

I'm mourning not just what was, but what could have been in the future.

This was to be his year - as soon as 20 Mule Team 100 was over with, he was going to be on-deck and at the forefront of my energies. I was so excited about what we were going to achieve this year. I had no idea if the goal I'd set for us (Tahoe Rim Ride 50 mile) was even achievable and was more nervous about it because of that than anything I've done in a long time. But I was excited to try and see where we ended up.

I was thrilled by everything we'd achieved in the past and how every time I'd set him up to succeed, he'd amazed me as to how well he'd performed. Virtually every time we went out, I'd come home proud of how he'd done.

In losing him, I lost the goal, the direction — I don't even know what to call it — the hope? that began back in 2005 in wanting a welsh pony of my own and everything that goes with that.

And now that's all gone and I'm not sure I'm ever going to get it back.

By a series of events, I ended up with too many horses, so he got put on the back-burner too many times. In reality, I only have time for three - and I still have four. There'll be no new ponies for me for a long time yet. At age 55-60, will I be willing to start again from scratch?

In a superstitious way, I almost feel like I caused it by considering letting go of my "insurance horses" (either Hopi or Uno). You have to keep them so that you never need them. I thought about passing them on to someone else and the obvious happened.

Looking at him lying there, still warm and still so recently "just there", I looked at his feet and somehow wanted to take them home. They were his feet that I cared for, that I shaped and worried about, and worked on to try and improve. And now they were stuck on a shell that wasn't coming home with me.

And I feel like I let him down - I took him there to fix him, and instead I left him there.

Uno Does 20 Mule Team 100 - February 2011

I wrote this for Easycare back in 2011, but wanted to keep a copy here in case that blog every disappears.

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Uno Does 20 Mule Team 100

Thursday, March 10, 2011 by Lucy Chaplin Trumbull

Yesterday morning I let Uno out of his paddock to roam while I mucked and fed everyone else. Within a few minutes, he was running in and out of the hay barn doing drive-by gallops and bucks, leaping about like a spring lamb. For such a chunky horse, he always amazes me how light on his feet he can be.

Best of all, I was thrilled to see him feeling so good after completing the 20 Mule Team 100 and the returning 13 hour trailer journey just over a week previously.

We made the trek down to Ridgecrest overshadowed by a less-than-promising weather forecast, but I was fresh off following the Yukon Quest sled dog race where they had to deal with -40°F for days on end so a bit of light snow wasn't going to faze me. As my friend Renee says: "no-one likes a sissy".

As usual we started our trip off with a bang - literally in this case - I blew a trailer tyre about three hours from home. Luckily I heard it go and was able to pull off the highway before it shredded and ripped the fender off.

My jiffy jack lives permanently in my tack room in an easy-to-get-to spot, so it only took me about half an hour to get the tyre changed. I was glad it wasn't raining, though, since the only way I can get the wheel back on the hub is to sit on the ground and balance it on my feet.

We arrived at 9 p.m. on Thursday to gusting winds which didn't really let up until late on Friday. Welcome to the desert!

Friday lunchtime, my friend and most-excellent crew-person Kaity Elliott (she's mine, all mine, and you can't have her) showed up and we spent a happy 45 minutes glueing on Uno's boots. This went very smoothly and the only time I was forced to mumble impolitely was when Uno knocked the schnozzle off the glue gun at an inopportune moment. We also had to interrupt the proceedings twice - once for a passing plastic bag (remember the wind?) and once when a low jet passed overhead - neither time Uno reacted, but I'd rather not be underneath him at these times "just in case".

(Many thanks to Kevin for not only prodding me into glueing, but also making sure I had what I needed when I discovered I was missing half the necessary ingredients... like a pair of front boots.)

We'll call this composition"Plump pone with blanket tide marks and glue-ons".

The ride itself was one of the more relaxed ones I've ever done. Although the forecast was for both rain and snow, it never reached us and instead we were blessed with bright sunshine the entire day. It was cold, but that worked out great for the woolly horses.

We started at 6 a.m. and although Uno was somewhat cheerful in the crisp air, he settled down fairly quickly when he realised his buddy-for-the-day wasn't acting like an idiot the way he was. Despite having never met face-to-face, by the power of the internet, I'd arranged to ride with Crystal Stutz from AZ and her horse Groovy on his first 100. We both wanted to keep a sane pace and as it turned out the horses travelled beautifully together, keeping each other enthused without making each other crazy.

Shortly after the first vet check, we also gained a third rider, Rebekah Loscar, who was doing the 65 mile ride (same loop) and who's horse, Misty, was having a confidence crisis. Both ladies made the day very fun and I thank them for their good humour throughout.

Laurel Mtn with a fresh dusting of snow. At the ride start, they thought they  were going to have to divert the trail away from the higher elevations to avoid the snow, but by the time we reached the first vet check at  17 miles, the original route was back on the menu - which was great as it was unbelievably beautiful out there.



So much of the trail was perfect footing - the ride was probably a good candidate for a completely barefoot ride.



Uno and I, for once looking like we know what we're doing. (photo: Rene Baylor)



Beautiful views about 25 miles into the ride.



Vet check #2 at ~35 miles - Uno is pretending to be good during pulse-taking (not). It got really warm at this point. The riders all wished they were wearing less clothing and the horses were ultra-itchy and sweaty. (photo: Kaity Elliot)



Leaving vet check #2 on the next leg. (photo: Kaity Elliot)



The gang ~40 miles, left to right: Rebekah and Misty, Lucy and Uno, Crystal and Groovy. (photo: Kaity Elliot)



Looking north at around 45 miles. Sadly, shortly after this, Rebekah's horse came up lame, so we bid her farewell and continued on. She hand-walked Misty another 7 miles to where she was met by the horse trailer.

Approaching vet check #3, Uno and Groovy flew into this check on the  twisting singletrack trail - probably the most fun section of the entire day. (photo: Kaity Elliot)

We managed the 9 miles between VC#3 and VC#4 (65 miles) in a mere 1 hour, 15 minutes. The horses felt great and I was sure we were going to have a fun last loop.

But it wasn't to be. As often happens when you move up in distance, what had worked fine for 50 milers didn't work over that mileage - Groovy's saddle was bothering him and he was suffering from a sore loin and was pulled from the ride. This was really a bummer as he'd been going so well the whole day and I felt bad for Crystal.

The even bigger bummer part, however, was that after having spent a really fun day with Groovy and Crystal - Uno and I were going to have to go out and do the last 35 mile loop on our own - and Uno doesn't do "on his own" very well.

So the first 65 miles went excellently and we had a blast, but from 65-75 miles it got "interesting".

Uno and I left around 8 pm and after an initial "I think it would be better if we either moved in sloooowww motion or went back to camp" for a few blocks, I got him to pick up the trot and maintain it for several miles while I chatted continuously to him (although we had to stop and inspect each glowstick with care before starting to trot again). After that was a long gradual hill that ride manager Melissa Ribley had warned me all horses get floppy on - and as promised he did. Once we were up on the ridge, I got him to trot nearly the whole top part (albeit with many spooks and frequent stopping to walk carefully past each glowstick/bush/trail marker). As we started to come off the ridge, he was getting less comfortable about the idea of trotting. He wasn't physically tired, but I think mentally was wilting. But we'd done 10 miles in the dark, so I was pretty pleased.

My most excellent crew Kaity Elliott met us at the road crossing, and the food break for him and hot chocolate break for me helped us both. After crossing hwy 395, we trotted for another half a mile or so, and then Uno was done. The trail was quite hard to follow - no moon and the glowsticks a little too far apart and designed so that you just had to "follow the trail you were on" until you reached the next one. Unfortunately, they didn't take into account the many side trails that (probably in the daylight) didn't look anything like the "main trail", but in the dark you couldn't tell, so you had to go carefully.

So we walked. And walked and walked and walked...

It was another 7 miles before we got over that ridge and down in the valley and it was blowing cold the whole time. I didn't dare get off because I'd probably fall on my face and not be able to find a suitable mounting block, so stayed on and got progressively colder and stiffer. Uno, on the other hand, was walking along, very cheerfully in his power walk. After 7 miles, we rejoined the afternoon's trail and I thought he'd perk up and be willing to trot, but the trail was singletrack and even harder to follow in the dark (several times we veered off it and I was worried we wouldn't be able to find it again [it was only 10" wide]. The glowsticks were very minimal.). He did perk up, but we didn't speed up noticeably. If I asked him to trot, he'd stop dead and start backing up, so was telling me very clearly that he couldn't. Left to his own devices, he was forward-moving, content, and walking fast.

Finally we got into VC#5 at 92 miles at about 1:30 a.m. - it had taken us about 2.5 hours to go the previous 10 miles (which actually isn't that bad in the pitch black). At that check he ate ravenously and I ate a banana (score!). It was 36°F/2°C. I was wearing two layers of fleece legs and Kaity helped me poke hand warmers down along my quads and we put a couple in my gloves. We got out of there about 2:15 a.m. when Uno finally started to come up for air from his buffet.

After re-crossing hwy 395 again, the trail was wider, more obvious, and had less close bushes to be alarmed by and I thought I'd be able to talk him into trotting. But no, Uno was done, so still we walked.

Around 3 a.m. I started to sleep on and off (nice warm hand-warmers in trousis). He followed the trail, I hallucinated things (including an entire stock trailer at one point - couldn't figure out why Uno wasn't reacting to it ), kept an eye on the glowsticks, and tried to stay balanced, but was still more or less asleep.

After an hour or so, I woke up and started to worry that we were off trail - almost no glowsticks and I didn't recognise some of the landmarks. But no, we were still in the right place. Looked at my watch and thought it said 3 a.m. Was very impressed that Uno had done 5 miles in 45 minutes in the dark with me asleep, before realising it was 4 a.m.. Not quite as impressive, but still pretty good considering he'd been flying solo for the last hour.

Down on the back roads in Ridgecrest, I finally got him to trot for about three blocks on a wide, wide, asphalt road - nothing either side of him for 50' and the moon had come up, so he knew he was safe. His trot was smooth and clean and forward - nothing wrong with him physically, that's for sure. Then the road narrowed again, and we continued our 20 Miles of Walking Experience.

We finally completed the 100 mile ride at 5:10 a.m. (we had been on track for about a 2 a.m. easy finish prior to Groovy being pulled). Uno and I walked the entire last 20 miles because he was too mentally "done" to be able to trot, even though he was physically capable of doing so.

No matter - I was absolutely thrilled with him and how he did. For a horse that doesn't do "alone", he stayed happy and cheerful and forward almost the entire time... we just weren't going to trot :))

The following morning, the only real indication of having done anything was a lot of foot resting, so we turned him out in the arena and he lay down, Baby Jesus-style, in the warm sand for a few hours. I didn't wrap or poultice his legs and he had virtually no filling whatsoever.

Post-ride, Baby Jesus enjoying the dry sand of Ridgecrest

So Uno, once again, became the Pone That Could - impressing me with his happy demeanor the whole day and his willingness to go forward in the face of his fears (just so long as we didn't have to trot in the dark). For a horse who wasn't going to make a 100-mile horse, he's not doing too badly.

Briarfair's Jumping Jack Flash

7 July 2005 - 14 January 2017

For several years in my early teens, around 1979-onwards, I went on riding holidays on Dartmoor in Devon. There I had the pleasure of riding "Snowlander Fury" a little grey welsh pony who matched his name - he was so fun to ride.

2005:
Fast forward to mid-2000s when I met a lady at Point Reyes riding a tiny welsh pony. Up until then, I was sad about my lost youth - how I'd never be able to repeat the fun I had on welsh ponies. This lady proved it wasn't true - that welsh ponies were quite capable of carrying adults - and still keeping up with the big horses. She gave me the names of some local breeders and some pointers on what to look for, and I found a small-scale breeder not 30 minutes away in Shingle Springs - Briarfair Farm. Irene had a colt for sale from Bristol lines - old style breeding - i.e. a useful pone with substance, instead of a weakling fancy show pony. Bristol Farm believed that Section Bs "...were bred to enable the shepherd to work the hill with his dogs. Can anyone, quite frankly, see most of the B's today working the hill? Most of them today could not take my maiden aunt down the high street without going lame, and certainly not without its rug on." [Welsh Pony and Cob Society Journal, 1975, Wales]. 

In September 2005 I went to look at Briarfair's Jumping Jack Flash - and, when I told her wanted him, Irene asked me: "You are going to keep him for ever and ever?". I promised I would.

At the time, I thought we'd have him until he was 40.

On October 1st Jackit came home with us. Up until then, he had never been in a trailer that moved. Getting him in didn't require too much encouragement - stepping up into it was hard, and he did a weird flailing of feet the first time - almost like spanish walk. Apart from producing a copious amount of poop for such a tiny pone, and one whinny coming up Marshall Grade, he got off the trailer at the other end with a great deal of nonchalance - amazing, given that he was only 15 months old.

Walking the fence in his new home, October 2005

Fenceline completed, time to let him explore on his own, October 2005

The stupid grin that accompanied most of everything to do with Jackit, October 2005

New roommate, Roo (himself newly-arrived a couple of months before), October 2005

From the first, he made me giggle. Almost every photo I have of me and him, shows me grinning like an idiot.

2005-2010:
For the first five years or so, he just hung out in the paddock, tormenting the big horses. He'd bite them on the bum, then canter a circle around behind them so they couldn't get him. He had absolutely no respect for any "authority" and I reasoned that if the other horses couldn't get the upper hand with him, I stood no chance. Although he was so funny, I was anxious about how exactly I was going to put any proper training on him.

Video: Working on his trot-outs as a long three year old, April 2009

Out for a walk, January 2010

First saddling, April 2010

In the summer of 2010 I sent him back to Irene for saddle training. At that point we'd put a saddle on him, but that was about it. Irene did some excellent work with him - basically dealing with my benign neglect. She had to break him down to "no, you are not the center of the universe" and then build him back up again. The pony she returned to us was polite and a pleasure to be around.

Hooching over his back prior to first mounting, August 2010

First ever ride, August 2010

From then on, we just went out and had fun. He was pretty fearless (unless it came to crossing small bodies of water, which he totally overreacted to) - wooden bridges, clambering over rocks, trailering, ...he took it all in his stride.

Second ever trail ride - Meadowbrook, October 2010.
Wherever Fergus went, he would cheerfully follow

Overreacting to a tiny creek, Cool, November 2010

Gerle Loop, Magnolia, November 2010

Settling in at Cool

2011:
By the following year, we were starting to gel. By then he'd happily go out alone, in the dark, and basically go wherever you pointed him. We met a bear one evening out at Cool and he reacted more to the scary water trough at the trailhead than the "alarming wildlife".

July 5, 2011 (two days shy of his sixth birthday):
"As soon as we hit Cuz's Trail on the way back, though, he knew where he was and took off after Fergus like a real horse - trotting at speed and even cantering a few strides (<gulp>) shortly before this photo was taken (hence the large grin). It's the first time I've ridden him like a real horse - just letting him rip. Big Fun."

That summer we went horse camping at Faith Valley. At that point, he was pretty much over the greenie stage - we could more or less go anywhere (not necessarily with any finesse, but we'd get there) with confidence. And I discovered how much fun he was on difficult footing. He was like a mountain goat.

Faith Valley, September and October 2011 - hanging out with his buddies.
He liked having the spring tie facing backwards so that he could see Fergus and try to steal his hay. 

Any time we got to anywhere a bit tricky, I'd take off his reins and turn him loose to figure it out on his own. 

Coming home after one of the most fun rides ever on the PCT near Blue Lakes

Demonstrating that Cougar Rock wasn't out of the question

His arch-nemesis - a large boulder on the trail in Charity Valley.
Here I'm asking him to at least touch it with his nose.

I absolutely adored riding him in tricky terrain - the more difficult it was, the cleverer he was. I reasoned that if I could stay with him (not always easy - he had a tiny "sweet spot" to balance on which took me a really long time to get used to), then he would likely stay upright underneath me.

I have a vivid memory of riding him at Cool in slippery footing and him acting like a cartoon horse - legs going everywhere, but I sat tight and he stayed upright - not something I think a bigger horse would have done in the situation.

The only time I came off him was a misunderstanding which went a bit like a Mexican standoff, with us each independently trying to decide which way we were going to go around a particular tree. The fall must have been all of 30".

Playing stud muffin on the high-tie when Fergus and pft went for a solo ride.
I never stopped loving watching him - he was so beautiful.

Autumn 2011 at Cool - still grinning

At Christmas time we went on our annual desert camping trip to Joshua Tree and he was outstanding. Again, perfect type of trail for him and I was so proud of how he took it all in his stride. We had a most memorable solo ride together one of the days - he was absolutely perfect and we had a lovely time.

Video: Letting off steam on the way down to Joshua Tree, Christmas 2011

Letting off steam at Bridgeport on the way down
(you need to do this when they've been standing in mud)

Enjoying the sunshine at Joshua Tree

Exploring Deer Trail at Joshua Tree. Once it became clear we'd lost the trail, we took a gully down to the main wash. And again, turning him loose was the best option, so he could pick his way down by himself. 

Joshua Tree. So. Much. Fun.

2012:
In May 2012, I deemed us ready for his first limited distance ride. By now, rechristened Small Thing—at least on paper—we went to Washoe Valley. Patrick and Fergus were to chaperone us. Worried about difficulties booting him the morning of the ride, and worried about losing boots, I bought him a brand new set of gloves and powerstraps and we put them on the night before. It was near freezing that night and the boots showed no sign of going on, so we heated them up in front of the heater to soften them and whacked them on firmly with a mallet. Small Thing was perfect the following morning, even walked calmly around camp on his own while pft was finishing getting ready. We crossed the start line and about 100 ft later started to trot - and he was dead lame. I suspect having boots heat-shrunk to your feet is an immediate recipe for this.

Washoe Valley fail, early May 2012

Later that month, we went the furthest we'd gone thus far - 22 miles on the California Loop for the Tevis Fun Ride. This was the first time I'd (successfully) taken him to an organized event and ridden him in unknown mixed company. The ride went flawlessly, with the exception of two exciting moments:

• while I was off and leading him, he got startled and he shot off up the trail, squeezing passing Fergus and I thought he was going to go over the side (I figured he'd end up in the bottom of the creek, unscathed, but with no way for us to get him out), but he gumbied his way out of the situation
• on the narrowest, most exposed part of the trail (about 12" wide), he decided to stop  turn sideways to snack.

I thought by the time we reached the river road on the CA Loop, he'd be pooped out and dragging.
The reality that I was pooped out and dragging (starting to suffer from heat-stroke) and
he ran off with me along the road to catch Fergus (who Renee was borrowing that weekend)

Laying on the picnic bench at Francisco's, trying to de-crick my back and recover from overheating. 

Small Thing very concerned that I wasn't moving

In October, he and I went up to Donner Summit and rode the Castle Peak solo. This was the longest ride we'd done on our own - and it's a tough one. He was demoralized in places, but ultimately did an excellent job:

Castle Peak Loop Video

The following Christmas, we again went to Joshua Tree. I took pft up on the Cliff Trail and set ST trotting on the twisty trail among the cholla. At that point, ST was much handier than Fergus on those types of trails, judging by pft's squawking. A few days later the weather deteriorated and we rode in the snow.

Christmas Day 2012 - this wasn't the only tangle he got into with his hay net

Joshua Tree, January 2013

2013-2015:
From 2013 onwards, I got busy with other horses. Fergus and I were embarking on our 100 mile career and I was trying to get Uno up and running again. The pendulum wouldn't swing back in ST's direction again until the summer of 2015 when I tried to use him as "Horse #3" at Faith Valley when we had visitors from England. This ended up being a disaster from his point of view. He was anxious and agitated from the start - flipping up and down on his high-tie and being almost impossible to control when taken out for a hand-walk. When it came to riding, he got left behind, got upset, I got clutchy, he reared... and it ended badly. But I set him up to fail and regret that, and it regressed our relationship somewhat. I got frightened to ride him.

Trying to get things back under control - August 2015

That Christmas, I aimed for a reset. He and I spent some quality time - little and often - under the guidance and chaperone of Kaity. I learned how to avoid the clutchy-negative spiral that I'd get into when he got anxious, and we got back on track.

Day 1 of our reset nearly ended in tears when, in my nervousness, I totally forgot to put on his breast collar.
Thankfully nothing bad happened and we were able to borrow Ani's breast collar to finish the ride. 

Video: Upset that Fergus has been taken from him

2016:

July 2016

Sept 2016

ST's new blankie. When we got back from Christmas break and found he'd ripped his old blankie down the back,
I jokingly said that he'd never be allowed to wear this new one. As it turned out, that ended up being true. :(

One of the last proper rides we had - exploring at Donner Summit, October 2016
We had the best day and it was so fun to have him up there, playing on his best type of terrain

Enjoying the sunshine, November 2016

Video: ST demonstrating his mini-arabian look

2017:
Back to where we should be, I entered the lottery for the Tahoe Rim Ride, reasoning that it was the perfect trail for him - we'd both have fun and he'd get to do a 50 miler. I was thrilled when we got in and excited for the new goal ahead.

* * *

Saturday 14th January I went down to feed and noticed him "lying in the sun". Didn't think much about it until I glanced up and noticed him rolling in a different spot. Took his hay bag into his shelter and he came running up - only to turn tail and go running back down to the bottom of the paddock and flop down again. And I knew we were in trouble.

There followed four nightmarish hours of horror. Of him getting cast in the field, getting stuck under the fence, going down over and over in pain. Patrick walked him in circles while I ran indoors to get dressed and grab my wallet. I drove him to Loomis Basin and didn't even get out the end of my road before he cast himself again in the trailer. Every time I stopped, the whole truck and trailer were shaking from his thrashing.

At Loomis they sedated him, gave him pain medication, gave him IV fluids, but ultimately it became clear that it wasn't going to work out and the decision was made.

The vets were kind enough to do a necropsy on him at the end of the day and discovered he had a small intestine strangulation. He would not have survived colic surgery.

* * *

As I said, I thought I'd have him until he was 40 - that we had years ahead of us. He was the best pony a girl could want and will never be replaced. There are some things you don't ever get back and he was one of them.

I thank him for the laughter and fun he gave me over his 11.5 short years - during 10 of which he was the apple of my eye.

Run free, Jackit, and I hope you get to bite Provo on the bum wherever you two are - because you know how much he hated it.