April , 2002
My Leatherwood Quest by Howard Bramhall
PART ONE
We left town in the middle of the night, near 10:00 PM.
Somehow, I had convinced the wife that this was a prudent
course of action to take so we could get to our destination
by check in time. I figured the drive would take 11 hours or
more, and I had no intention of missing one minute of rental
time allowed at our Leatherwood cabin. No checks had
bounced, most of the credit cards still worked, and I felt
confident that as long as diesel stayed under two bucks a
gallon we would meet our goals of spending a week in North
Carolina near a wisp of a town named Ferguson. The wife
wasn't very keen on the idea of me driving through the
night, but I had convinced her the cool weather was good for
the horses. She and my daughter could both sleep during the
drive, and I was so pumped up for this trip there was no way
I would pass out while driving the Interstate at 3 AM. I had
tried to take a nap earlier in the day, but the excitement
running through my blood would not allow such activity; I
was acting like a little school girl anticipating ownership
of her first horse, except my new horse was the mountains of
western North Carolina. It had been three long years since
my last visit and I hadn't realized, till now, how much I
missed their beauty, especially when viewed from the back of
a horse. After I loaded up the horses (Rebel, War Cry and
the mare, Moonlight Princess) and made sure the trailer had
working lights (a rarity with my rig), we were on the road.
And we hadn't gotten a quarter mile from our house when I
noticed the fog rolling in. Damn, this will slow us down for
sure. And it did. Fog, off and on, till Jacksonville. And
way too many trucks. I don't like passing trucks while
hauling horses. My bumper pull trailer starts to sway if I
get a truck in front of me, one along side, and one behind.
And, for some reason, these new tires I just had installed
on my pickup did not feel right. I should have stayed with
the Michelins. Great; death on the highway, pulling 3 horses
in a dilapidated trailer while the wife and kid are
sleeping. And, why do so many truckers drive this time of
night? And what the heck am I doing out here with them? We
get to Charlotte at sunrise. I'm hoping to beat the rush
hour traffic, cause I know it's coming. And we do although
it had nothing to do with my planning. My plans never work
out so I don't even bother trying anymore. I just hope I get
lucky; and this time we did. The road to Ferguson, from
Wilkesboro, on Highway 268, winds and curves to such an
extent I knew we were very close to our final destination
named Leatherwood, a horse friendly community like no other.
Here horses come first; cars, trucks and the humans who
drive them, take a back seat. I found myself hoping nothing
had changed in the three years since my first discovery of
this remote, and very special, part of the world. I
recognized it right away. This picture had been appearing in
my dreams quite frequently lately. The valley of lower
Leatherwood, the winding creek named Elk, the low level
mountains surrounding the two barns and several other large
buildings. Luscious green pastures and lots of horses.
Nothing gaudy here (except, maybe, for me) and landscaped to
perfection. I had returned to paradise, and this time I had
bought my wife and daughter to witness it all with me. God
does visit this part of the world quite often and it's very
apparent he adores horses. I spotted Abby right away. She
was walking from the restaurant towards where I was parked,
waiting to unload some tired horse flesh. Abby is the
cutest, friendliest woman I know (next to the wife, of
course) and she gave me a hug to let me know this part of
our journey had been successfully completed. She showed me
where our stalls were and gave us all a quick tour of the
barn. As I was unloading all our tack and accoutrements I
had to interrupt Abby, on several occasions to ask her where
I could put a certain type of item. I had to explain that I
was not used to so much class in a barn. I felt a bit out of
place, but Abby made me feel so welcomed that I soon lost
that feeling. I could tell she was busy, getting ready for
the endurance event she was managing, which was taking place
in less than 48 hours, so I tried not to bother her as much
as I normally would have. Abby called the cabin rental
person in charge and persuaded them to let me and the family
check in 5 hours early. Man, I had made some really good
time driving here. You'd think I was in a hurry or
something. Anyway, I'm not sure if Abby did this out of
kindness or to get rid of me, but it worked. We got our keys
and after walking the horses around, then putting them in
their immaculate stalls and feeding all three, we headed up
to a cabin appropriately named "Top of the Mountain." To get
to our cabin you drive though a security system, after
punching in a code on a keypad, that raises a wooden
barrier. As I saw it come up I found myself hoping I
wouldn't break this system during the week. I tend to forget
codes and such, and after a few beers I might want to see
how strong and brave that arm is with my truck bearing down
on it at 50 miles per hour. The arm finished rising and away
we went. And, right away, we started climbing. Up and up and
up we climbed, for a mile and a half (that's what it said on
our map), around curves that circled round and round to the
point you were bracing yourself to keep your seat. What a
cool road this would be to skate board down, if one were so
brave to try such a thing. And we started getting some
mountain views that you just don't see in Central Florida.
Those Florida Gator rednecks had truly arrived and it kind
of reminded me of the Clintons living in the White House.
Like the Clintons, us being here seemed out of place, but
man, did we plan on having a good time while it all lasted.
PART TWO
I asked my wife, Erica, what she thought of the place so
far. I knew that I had really built up the whole notion of
Leatherwood months before leaving for our vacation, but I
was afraid I might of overdone it a bit. She told me, so
far, for once in my life, I hadn't exaggerated, and then she
looked at me and smiled. I love that smile and know when I
get it I'm not in the doghouse. To get to our cabin I had to
drive up an incredibly steep hill, which was actually our
driveway. The driveway wasn't paved like the road from the
stable, it was made of very loose gravel, which made the
climb an adventure. After making the 120 degree right turn
onto the driveway I realized the hill was so steep I needed
to back up onto the paved road, where it was more level, so
we could get a running start. Not much traffic in
Leatherwood to worry about, but I did look in the mirrors
just to make sure I didn't back into anyone going down the
mountain. Are you with me so far? I took the truck out of
overdrive and then floored the diesel peddle. The propulsion
caused the truck to go up the hill so fast and at such an
angle Jennifer and Erica both screamed, in unison. They were
scared and yelled out again when the back end of the truck
started to sway to and fro, as the rear tires lost traction
and it looked like we might hit a tree or two, while rapidly
climbing the road to our cabin. I remembered doing this
three years ago (I had stayed at the same cabin; why mess
with perfection?), but it was much more fun this time with
two screaming females. The driveway leveled off and we all
got out of the truck. "Dad, are you crazy? asked Jennifer as
she exited our truck. Erica said, "Jen, you're old enough
now to know the answer to that." haha. Then the three of us
just stared at what was to be our new home for the week. The
cabin was all wooden built in that log cabin design that's
so popular in this part of the world. It had two stories and
a very large outdoor Jacuzzi; something that comes in real
handy after a long day of riding. There was a porch around
the front and another one around the back, with spectacular
mountain views from both. A gas grill large enough to cook
out for a redneck hunting club, three or four rocking
chairs, a lover's swing and a hammock, tied between two
large trees, in the front yard. And, from our west porch,
there was an overwhelming view of the Blue Ridge Mountains
with the star attraction being Grandfather Mountain.
Grandfather was the largest mountain on the Blue Ridge chain
coming in at just under 6,000 feet. I knew cause I had
looked all this up on the Internet. And there he was,
staring right back at me from my twelve o'clock porch view.
Howdy, Gramps, you and me are going to get to know each
other's face purty well whenever the lack of clouds allow me
to see ya. Now, my wife, she likes to hike. And I knew we
were going to do some of that during the week, but my plan
was to ride horses every other free moment. I wanted to
learn the trails of Leatherwood better than anything. I was
even planning on taking the horses to other mountains in
North Carolina, especially to a place called Cold Mountain,
but when I came to realize the logistics of it all, I
concluded this would not be possible. I decided to stick
with learning Leatherwood. Distances have a way of getting
longer and longer when you sit down and figure how fast you
can travel trailering three horses up and down these
mountain roads. Time travel comes out of warp drive and
takes the pace of our ancestors traveling by covered wagon
here in the mountains. For the next week, to make up for the
fact I wasn't going to have the time needed to visit that
part of North Carolina, I decided to pretend Grandfather was
Cold Mountain, every time I looked to the west from our
cabin porch. One day, before I die, I will achieve my
personal quest of finding Inman's tracks back to his beloved
and the place they called home. I highly recommend ya'll
reading this book ("Cold Mountain", by Charles Frazier)
sometime if you haven't already done so. My hardback copy,
worn and tattered, was sitting in my truck cab. The picture
on the cover of the book, depicting those mountains, was
identical to the view from my new porch. OK, enough of all
that; I've probably bored most of ya'll to tears with my
rendition of those mountains. I'll stop for now, but please
forgive me if I have a relapse. After a much needed nap, the
three of us headed back down to the barn. Some of the
endurance riders were arriving from different parts of the
south, and I noticed we even had a few Yankees. I met Skip
and his wife, from the land of pleasant living (Maryland), a
couple from New York, who actually wanted to meet me,
probably to find out what I looked like in person (and I
don't think it's an older version of Harry Potter, as
someone has suggested, although I do still act like a kid).
Even though it's rare for anyone to want to do this, it's
been my experience that I know I will disappoint them in
person; I always do. I'm not sure what they're actually
looking for, but I do know I ain't it. lol. Michelle, from
the panhandle, was there. She had been camping by Elk Creek
since Monday, and like us, was staying a full week. Michelle
loved these mountains and trails and said it was the best
place she has been to for endurance training. Michelle has
been all over the world, including the infamous United Arab
Emirates, competing in the sport of endurance. We all
decided we had to hit the trails together as soon as
possible, which would be early tomorrow (Friday) morning.
Duane and Nina were, also, there. They come out to
Leatherwood, from Raleigh, every free week-end they can, to
do some serious training. All of these folks, Michelle, Nina
and Duane, are top competitors, and just the idea that they
talk to the likes of me touches me deeply. I go out of my
way to try and make them laugh, with little success, just so
they continue to do this. Duane offered to take us all on a
trail ride the next day, if we wanted, to show us one of the
more popular views from a place called Raven Rock. Erica,
Michelle, Jennifer and I readily accepted the offer. My
horses would have more time to rest up from the trip and
should all be fresh tomorrow. And then I saw her; across the
road at the other barn. She has an unmistakable look to her,
that blonde hair, those legs, and she usually wears shorts
when she's not riding, no matter how cold it is. She's my
favorite endurance rider, even ahead of my gal, Val, and the
mere sight of her, here at Leatherwood, just about made me
cry. Nina's mom, Susan Kasemeyer was here, and I knew there
would be some serious joke telling going on this week-end.
If you ever want to know anything about anyone or an answer
to any question including the big one, "What's it all
about?" just ask Susan K. If she don't know, there is no
answer. When God has a question, he goes to Susan.
[RC] Back from Leatherwood.
BACK FROM LEATHERWOOD
Man, I gotta tell ya'll, I'm moving. I'm moving to the
mountains, just as soon as I can. Course I still have a year
or so left on my probation, but as soon as that's over, I'm
heading north, but staying south, if you know what I mean. I
just fell in love with the mountains of North Carolina. 34
degrees in April? NO problem. I loved it. What a view I had
of Grandfather Mountain! To die for, and if you ride those
trails like me, you just might. Actually, I might not be
able to afford those North Carolina real estate prices, but
I hear the mountains in Tennessee are a real bargain, and
just as pretty. Watch out Susan K., you might have a new
neighbor. I'll write about Leatherwood tomorrow sometime, as
soon as I get some sleep. Just rolled in from a ten hour
haul and I am truly exhausted. But the horses did great and
I'm a proud flatlander. And anyone who completed that 50
miler at Leatherwood, my hat is off to you. If there is a
more difficult 50 anywhere else I would sure like to see it.
Abby and Phil did such a fantastic job at this ride; I can't
believe I missed the 2nd and 3rd year. I'm so glad I got
there this time. I bet next year they fill up quick when the
word gets out as to how this year's ride went. It will never
be another Biltmore cause I think they can only fit in a
hundred or so riders, and that's a good thing. The bad thing
is they might have to start a waiting list for next year
already! All I can say is save me a spot for 2003 cause I'm
coming back. I miss it already.
PART THREE
I tried to sneak up from behind on her, but she was way too
sharp for that. "Oh, heck, I heard you was here," she says
to me. "Yea, I get that response a lot from folks when they
find out I actually did show up to a ride," I responded.
Then, Susan starts in right away. "There were these three
men sitting in a bar, talking......" Another terrific joke,
and I just love listening to her tell em. I spend some time
with her, watching her do stuff to prepare for Saturday's
ride. We discuss how tough doing a 50 at Leatherwood is, and
I let her know that I'm only doing the LD, which is the most
difficult 25 mile ride one can ever do. I'm one of the few
folks who will drive over a thousand miles (round trip) to
ride a horse 25. "Is the wife doing it with you and Jen?"
she asks. "Nope, I think Erica is going to volunteer at this
one since I scared her a bit. I made the mistake of letting
her know it took me just under 6 hours to finish a 25 here
three years ago. Course, that was my rookie year in the
sport. I'm hoping to shave off at least 30 minutes this
time." As I continue talking with Susan I notice we are
constantly interrupted by folks who know her (she's like
Mayor Guliani at these rides she's so popular and well
known), saying things like "Hey, Susan, I see you got
Trouble with you today." And they weren't talking about her
horse. haha. After awhile, I let her be since I see she has
lots to do and I know our talking is slowing her down. I
didn't want her to get too much of me all in one swoop, it
was going to be a long week-end, even though I knew it would
all go by quicker than a blink of an eye. Life has a way of
traveling that speed when you're enjoying yourself as much
as I do at a well run endurance event like Leatherwood. But,
between you and me, I could have stayed with her all day
long, just listening to her talk. I did see Phil a few times
while hanging around the barn. Phil is the only person I
know who lives at Leatherwood year round. I hadn't seen his
place yet, but I heard it was the most beautiful thing you
ever did see. I think Phil owns something like 80 acres,
which is just an incredible amount of land, especially here
in the mountains. Anyway, the Leatherwood Extreme Challenge
Endurance Ride was all Phil's idea 4 or so years ago, and
with Abbie's help, they both have put together something
really special. Phil was busy on a 4 wheeler with a chain
saw on his lap. Looks like he was heading off on one of the
loops to cut up some recently fallen trees that were
blocking the trail. I started hoping none of them landed on
me or Jennifer during the ride. The next day the three of us
awoke feeling fresh and ready to go for a ride.
Unfortunately, my mare, Moonlight Princess, had lost one of
her shoes. We all agreed that Jennifer would sit out the
ride to Raven Rock so Erica could experience the trail with
Duane and Nina leading the way. Funny thing is I had told a
few folks about this endeavor yesterday and when we all
started saddling up I counted over 25 riders. Duane had
expected about six. Nina started in on me, right away,
saying to those around her that there's the telephone, the
telegraph, and the tella-Howard. I thought it was quite
humorous her saying this since Nina is one of my best
sources of information, next to her mom. haha. Now Duane is
more on the quiet side compared to his informative wife. But
even Duane seems to enjoy teasing me when he gets the
chance. He told me that he really enjoys coming out to
Leatherwood on the week-ends and was wondering just how
often I planned on sticking around, since he knew I enjoyed
it also. He said he would hate to have to give up those
week-ends all together. I told him not to worry, I can only
afford to do this once or twice in a lifetime, so he
wouldn't be seeing too much of me here at Leatherwood. Funny
thing is, I remember Phil and Abbie wondering the same
thing. As I saddled up War Cry and Erica saddled up Rebel,
we both seemed to have a little trouble with the new
cruppers we had recently purchased. Couldn't figure out
which way the end thing went around their tails. Erica told
me, "No, I don't think it goes that way. How they gonna
poop?" I said I thought that the poop will find it's way out
and that part of the crupper will just get a little brown.
Yuck! As we waited for the other 30 riders to start saddling
up (yea, the number kept growing) it was apparent that War
Cry did not want to leave Princess, who was causing quite a
commotion in her stall. Both horses started talking to each
other, each lamenting on how terrible it was for them to be
separated like this, and War Cry was bound and determined to
act like I was making him go without his consent. This
caused Rebel, my only safe horse, to start acting up with
Erica. She started talking, to no one in particular, like
she does when a horse makes her a bit nervous, and I knew
our adventure was just beginning. Of course, everyone else's
horse did not perform in such a manner; any rider nearby
found out that Howard's poorly trained horses were gonna
give them all quite a show. If you've ever wanted to know if
your personality affects your horse's behavior all you gotta
do is ride with me. Craziness is contagious and it can cross
over to different species. You should meet my dog! Finally,
we headed out along the road that parallels Elk creek. We
went down this normally non busy road, but of course, today
there was much more traffic than normal due to riders coming
in for the endurance ride. Duane eventually led us off the
road, through someone's side yard to get to the trail. War
Cry made noises the entire way, to let everyone know how he
got his name; you'd swear this guy was a stallion instead of
a gelding. Rebel and War Cry look like brothers, they both
have that flea bitten gray coloring and are about the same
size coming in at 15 hands. War Cry does have a shorter back
and his gray coloring runs a bit darker than Rebel's. Erica
had calmed her horse and herself down a little and started
to enjoy the scenery as we began to climb up the mountain.
The terrain was quite rugged and I remember having to duck
under one branch that one of the front riders had caused to
swing back and forth. I wasn't used to avoiding one that
actually was moving, especially since I had to sit at an
angle while climbing a mountain, but everyone seemed to get
through it unscathed. Up and up we went with not much room
to trot and a canter was out of the question. I kept saying
(you know I can't keep my mouth shut with all these
endurance riders around me) how beautiful it all was and
telling Duane, our leader, how he was "the man" for taking
us all out here. He responded that a good tip would be
appreciated so I gave him one. I said, "Don't do Leatherwood
without some fresh shoes on your horse." Seemed like a good
tip to me, but I think Duane already knew that.
PART FOUR
Debbie, from New England, who happened to be stalling her
horse next to ours at the barn, was riding behind me. She
seemed to be enjoying the trail, and even thanked me for
inviting her along. I told her anyone who rides along with
me is very brave indeed and thanked her back. I truly enjoy
the company of endurance riders especially when we aren't
all racing and actually get a chance to talk with one
another. Even though most of the trees were bare missing all
their leaves (I don't think Spring had yet sprung here in
the mountains) the mountain views were incredible. To the
west I know I spotted Cold Mountain, even though most locals
would say such a thing is not possible. I saw Inman trekking
along those mountain paths, fighting off the Home Guard who
kept trying to kill him, and getting closer and closer to
his beloved. Throw in a running brook alongside the trail
and I knew things couldn't get much better. Even War Cry had
finally shut up and was taking in the scenery. One thing I
noticed is neither of my horses did their normal Arab
sidestep spook during this ride. Such a thing could
literally take you over the edge but the horses seemed to
know this was not the day for such silly behavior. These
creatures know how to survive. I've been riding with spurs
lately, just to get more control of my horse, and I was glad
I had them on today. When War Cry would get a little too
close to the edge, where some of the drop offs were quite
intimidating, I'd spur him (just a touch) on that side to
get us closer to the safe side of the trail. After about an
hour or less, we had all reached our destination. Now, Duane
announced, comes the fun part. We were to tie our horses, or
have someone hold them, and hike down the western side of
the mountain to get down to the ledge that was Raven Rock.
He said it would be safer to go down in two separate groups,
so Erica went down with the first one while I held on to
Rebel and War Cry's reins. I had no intention of tying my
guys to a tree on top of this mountain. When the first group
got back it turned out that the second group consisted of
only me and Nina. Seemed like no one else in the second
group wanted to risk their lives climbing down a mountain
with me tagging along. Nina led the way and pointed to a
rope tied to several trees that led down to the Rock. "You
might want to use that," she says. The trail was so steep
this rope was the only thing to keep you from falling off.
Going down wasn't that hard for Nina so she talked and
talked about life and such. I didn't say much cause I was
having trouble breathing, walking, and holding on to this
rope all at the same time. I found her conversation quite
interesting and if I ever spent an hour or so with her I'd
have enough information on every endurance rider in the
Universe to write a book. I even tried to tell her some
things that I thought Nina might not know, but every time I
did she'd say, "Oh, yea, I heard that." Next time I'll just
have to make up some stuff to see if I can get her on
something she doesn't know. I do believe Nina has some sort
of photographic memory. We finally got to Raven Rock and,
from there, had the most fantastic view of lower
Leatherwood, the creek, the winding road, the two large
barns and pasture. You could see where the riders were
pulling in and parking their rigs. It was quite a sight.
Then it was time to climb back up that hill since we didn't
want to keep them all waiting for the two of us. If it was
only me down here I bet they would have taken off, except
maybe for my wife, but since Nina was with me, they were all
still there when we got back up. This time even Nina didn't
talk very much, climbing that mountain literally took one's
breath away. I'm going to fast forward here, just cause I
feel like it, and thought ya'll might get a kick out of this
one. It's Saturday, the day of the ride, and my wife is one
of the volunteers working in the P & R area. My buddy, Jim
Holland, who is in the 50, has just finished his first loop.
For those of you who don't know, Jim has been around the
sport longer than anyone can remember. In fact Jim has told
me it was he who actually invented the sport of endurance
while working for the Pony Express, but this has yet to be
validated. Jim's crew area was located close to the P & R
location where my wife happened to be working. Joan, Jim's
crew of one, was performing her duties, which normally
consist of doing everything while Jim sits in a chair and
takes a break. Since Erica wasn't very busy at the time, she
happened to witness the following between Jim and Joan: Joan
had just finished taking Jim's horse, Sunny, through the P &
R and the subsequent vet check. She handed the vet card to
Jim who studied it closely to see what grades the vet had
given Sunny. When he was done looking at the card, he said,
"Now Joan, I happened to notice it took you one minute and
22 seconds to remove Sunny's tack before you started
sponging. We need to shave off at least 30 seconds from that
time so here's what we're gonna do. When I come in next time
I want you to position yourself on Sunny's right side. I'll
get off the left side and as I'm loosening the cinch I want
you to remove the breast collar and crupper. Then you remove
the saddle like you normally do and proceed with the
sponging. That should do the trick." Now I don't know about
you, but when Erica told me about this later that afternoon
I gagged on some food I was swallowing and had to spit it
out, or die, because I was laughing so darn hard. The phrase
"shave off 30 seconds" stuck with me that entire night and I
can't tell you how much fun I had repeating it to Jim and
Joan when I saw them at the award's ceremony. My NASCAR hat
is off to Jim and I'm going to send Bill Elliot Jim's email
address so Bill can get some good advice on how his pit crew
can shave off a few seconds while refueling and changing the
tires. haha OK, let's get back to Friday. Sorry to do that
out of chronological order, but I just had to get that one
out. It just cracks me up every time I think about it. And,
Jim, remember you did say I could write about that one, even
though I waited until you had finished a few gin and tonics
before I asked. The 30 or so riders completed their Raven
Rock adventure without any injuries, horse or human. War Cry
began letting Princess know we were on our way home as soon
as we hit the paved road back to Leatherwood. And, even
though it was a mile or so away, I could hear her answering
back. The power of a mare is awesome and must be appreciated
for what it is. That night Abbie gave us all a preview of
the show to come as she discussed, in detail, the three
separate trails. The 50 milers were leaving at 6:00 AM on
the pink trail, the 25 milers at 6:30, also, on the pink. It
was obvious that Abbie knew every inch of the three trails
and she let us know where we'd be able to trot or canter our
horses and where it would either be a steep climb or
descent. I picked up on the fact that there wasn't much area
to let your horse run, most of the trails were steep, going
up or going down. Welcome to the Leatherwood Extreme
Challenge! Tomorrow, the adventure would truly begin.
PART FIVE
I must say sleeping in a heated cabin on top of a mountain
does one's soul a world of good. And for the first time at
an endurance ride, I actually did get a good night's rest
the night before Showtime. What a difference it makes,
having your horses in a barn over a mile away. It's a heck
of a lot safer than sleeping in your tent wondering if a
loose horse is going to stampede your campsite maiming all
inside. I do believe this is why you see so few endurance
riders sleeping in tents anymore. The fear of death and a
great line of credit will get you a safe goose neck trailer
with sleeping quarters every time. It rained late Friday
night. I even heard some thunder and had to get out of bed
just to make sure I was really in North Carolina, and not
back in Central Florida, where that particular sound is
almost a daily occurance. As I looked out my window,
spotting an occasional flash of lightning, I could see the
bolt's reflection illuminating those Blue Ridge mountains.
Whew, I am where I was supposed to be. All was well, so I
went back to bed. Jen and I woke up early, around 5:00 AM,
without me having to knock on her door. My kid is so into
this sport and the fact that I don't have to get her out of
bed this early shows me how much. I wanted to let Erica
sleep in as long as possible, but knew we had to be at the
barn before the 50 milers started. Once 6:00 AM came around
I figured they would close off part of the road that we
drove down to get to the barn. I found myself wanting to be
in the 50 miler, but I just had a feeling none of my horses
were ready for a Leatherwood 50, even though all three of
them had done that distance down in the flatlands. Although
we do train in deep sand, I don't think anything prepares
the horse and rider for mountains and rugged terrain except
spending time in that environment and doing serious training
there. Erica got out of bed and the three of us made the
drive down the mountain to the barn. It was not raining but
you could tell, from the puddles, that it had earlier. Erica
and Jennifer had both slept so soundly that night they
hadn't heard any of it. I bet most of the endurance riders
who were camping out heard it. As we pulled in to the area
near the barn I couldn't find anywhere to park so I ended up
in front of the restaurant where a sign said "Restaurant
Parking Only." I made the gamble that they wouldn't ticket
or tow away my truck. I almost wrote out a sign that said,
"Phil and Abbie told me I could park here," but decided that
might get me towed away for sure. Erica said she'd move it
to an open spot close to the barn as soon as one became
available. She knows how much I do love my diesel truck. Jen
and I both got our tack ready and I fed the horses. All
three of them were so jumpy, with all the activity going on,
I became concerned that they wouldn't eat like I wanted. I
started thinking I should have come down here at 4:00 am to
feed them, like I normally do at a ride. That cabin is
spoiling us for sure, but what a way to go. I saw Michelle
walking around and asked her why she wasn't on her horse
getting ready. She told me she had decided to pull out of
the 50 because of the rain. Since I knew she had already
ridden the trails earlier in the week preparing for this
ride, her decision, which I know wasn't made lightly,
concerned me. But I had come too far, and there was no way I
would pull out of a ride because of rain. I had driven
almost 600 miles, one way, to take my horse and Jen's a
measly 25 miles and we were gonna do it; I didn't care if it
starting snowing (wouldn't that be exciting?). The weather
was cool and damp, temperature was in the low 40's with a
forecasted high close to 70. Even though the humidity was
high, I found myself enjoying the change from Florida where
it actually hit 90 degrees last week. I started wondering
how much longer our credit cards would keep us here hidden
away in the cool clouds of the North Carolina mountains. Not
long enough, that's for sure. Jen saddled up Rebel and I did
the same with War Cry. I had planned on riding my Paint for
this ride, but she looked like she had lost some weight to
me recently, so I decided on going with the Arab, who so far
seemed to really enjoy this rugged terrain. Our start time
was getting closer and I heard Nancy, time keeper of the
South extraordinaire, announce, "ya'll got 5 minutes." Here
we go. I didn't bother with the crupper; I just don't like
using them (messy, messy, messy) and didn't think it was
necessary. Breast collars though are an absolute must here
and I tried to make sure my adjustment was just right, not
too tight and not loosey goosey. War Cry doesn't have much
of a chest or a gut, for that matter; he's the only horse I
own that takes a 30 inch western girth. And I had to get
really creative with the breast collar to get it anywhere
close to his chest. Jen told me she was "ready to rumble" so
we both exited our stalls with our horses simultaneously.
Princess started acting up, but War Cry didn't seem as
agitated about being separated from her as he was yesterday.
I think my coolly named horse knew what we were about to do.
I just love the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach at
these rides; the excitement, the adrenaline kicking in. I
don't think I'll ever tire of it. I wonder what Jen feels?
It must be the coolest thing in the world for her. Probably
what I'm feeling times ten. Jen and I mount up, Nancy gives
her count down, and Abbie leads the controlled start in a 4
wheeler. A good size group of just under 60 riders departs,
slowly at first. Jen and I inch up in the middle of the pack
cause I know, once they release the controls, it will be
difficult to pass anyone for quite some time. We follow
Abbie along the horse trail that bypasses around the wooden
arm barrier (I had yet to destroy this thing with my truck)
and we all continued down familiar territory for me and Jen.
I know most of the riders haven't seen this area because
very few are renting a cabin here. And I only gave that
security code out to thirty or so riders who wanted to see
my cabin. Bring along a six pack of beer and you receive
time in my Jacuzzi and the magic code that lifts that arm.
haha. Abbie turns a corner, pulls off the road and shuts off
the 4-wheeler, letting us all loose on our own. The first
part of the trail is actually a narrow paved road, and up it
goes, right away. We travel past the covered swimming pool,
the tennis courts and a camping area with a large erected
Tee Pee, which I bet is just full of young kids in the
summer time. The road soon turns to dirt and a rugged rocky
trail. I remembered Abbie telling us last night this first
loop begins with a two mile climb. And, so far, it looks
like she was not joking. The pace is mostly a quick trot
with an occasional canter. Some folks try and pass, but most
riders seem to be content staying where they are. War Cry is
in front of Rebel and he's raring to go. Up and up we go and
War Cry acts like it's nothing. I have yet to hear this
horse pant, but I bet I hear it sometime later today. He
wants to pass the horse in front of him but I hold him back.
This magical feeling of true horse power, first thing in the
early morning mist, with 60 other horses and riders is just
so damn cool!
PART SIX
The drop offs are so steep I don't want to endanger us, or
others, by trying to pass anyone right now. The time for
that will come soon enough. Most of the riders seem to feel
the same way, but there is one guy (there always is) behind
Jen and me who goes flying past us, like he is racing for a
million bucks in FEI prize money. I see him coming and
position my horse so he has to pass us on the outside of the
trail; the side that drops off. If he's in such a hurry it
will be his neck that takes the risk of breaking, not mine
or Jennifer's (when War Cry moves to one side Rebel follows
immediately). I know AERC has a rule about blocking trail
for riders who want to pass, but I wonder what the rule is
when passing while going up a narrow, dangerous mountain
trail? Being a flatlander I truly did not know; I must ask
Susan about this later. If this rude rider falls off the
edge, he'll be lucky if anyone stops to help him. I'll stop
for the horse, but this rider is on his own. There are two
distinct groups in front. I see the front runners, a group
of 7 or so, separating from the second group, the one Jen
and I are in. The front group is doing more cantering, and
the leader of our group has slowed down to a trot and
occasional walk. I can tell others want to pass her, but
because of the narrowness of the trail, they wisely elect
not to do so. Jen and I are getting horses and riders
breathing down our necks because the non-elected leader of
our group is going too slow. I find this first loop quite
awesome because you can see most of the riders ahead of you
as the trail zig zags up the side of the mountain. At
Florida rides I'm lucky to see two or three riders ahead of
me, the trees and level ground only allow short distance
views; here I see twenty or more riders ahead of us, and if
I turn around I'll spot the other 40. After the 2 mile climb
the trail widens and levels off. We're on some kind of ridge
line here and a coup takes place changing leaders in our
second group. Jen and I follow the new guy making his charge
(a male appropriately wearing a helmet with an American flag
type cover) and start passing several riders who have yet to
join the revolution. I'm surprised at how wide and level it
is here and we go at the pace we travel frequently down in
Florida, the canter. For quite some time the inclines and
declines are not at all steep so we stay in that gait, or
the extended trot, for quite a bit longer than I thought
possible here at Leatherwood. The air is cool, the footing
firm with little to no rocks, the horses fresh, and if this
feeling isn't the most exciting and exhilarating one in the
world, I don't know what is. The fighter pilot can have his
jet aircraft, the NASCAR racer his super fast car. All I
want from life is to be on a competitive horse, right here,
right now. And this quick paced ridge line, with beautiful
views, just adds to the thrill and enjoyment of it all.
Michelle, you're gonna regret not going out today when I
tell you about this one. The trails, so far, are so dry you
wouldn't even know it rained last night. You can burn out
your horse traveling too hard and too fast during that first
loop. I've seen it happen quite often and I think it's the
gallop and fast canter that will do this quicker than
anything. That's why the horse has, or should have, an
efficient extended trot: my most favorite gait to travel in
during either an endurance or a limited distance event. And
I downshift War Cry into this gear after ten or fifteen
minutes of cantering. I'm still amazed at the pace we can
travel here. Even going down hill we stay in the trot. The
descent is not a great one, so Jen and I just sit back in
the saddle and down the hill we go. It's not the extended
trot, but it is the trot. Halfway through the loop, at a
water stop, I realize that we are almost traveling at the
pace we do in the flatlands of Georgia and Florida. Erica
will think we've lost our minds when we pull into the vet
check. But, I'm guessing that there are over 20 or so riders
ahead of us so we won't be the only ones covering ground
like this. Even here at Leatherwood, the Limited Distance
training run is what I've seen it transition into at the
other rides I attend. Make no mistake, it's a 25 mile race,
nothing more, nothing less. And if anyone who comes in at
one of the top ten positions tells you otherwise, they are
not being entirely truthful. I'm not saying everyone who
enters a Limited Distance run races like they just stole a
horse and are running from the law; but I am saying that the
front runners do, and God help them if their horses are not
prepared. You won't feel like much of a winner if you're
sitting under a tree holding your horse's lead rope making
sure the IV needle doesn't come out. I know, cause I've been
there and don't want to ever go back there again. Our horses
are really into this cooler weather; they aren't sweating
and, as I sponge War Cry off I notice his skin is not warm
at all. Just amazing! Temperature, along with humidity, is
everything to a horse. Maybe living in Florida, training in
that awful heat with matching dew points, is paying off
after all. War Cry and Rebel have both turned into
mega-horses this morning with this 45 degree weather. And
it's quite obvious they are enjoying it as much, maybe even
more, than Jen and me. I'm loving this all so much I want to
let out a really BIG SCREAM as in YESSSSSSSSSSSSS, but I
don't only for fear of a horse and rider reacting to the
noise and falling off the ridge line into oblivion. The
field finally starts to spread out. Jen and I continue
keeping up a good pace. I'm starting to wonder if, maybe, we
should have entered the 50 here after all. Ah, but it's
still early, we have much more to do. And there's always
that dreaded vet check. Both of my Arabs, lately, seem to
come up with this subtle head bobbing, and the Eagle eyed
vet never misses it. "So sorry Mister Howard but your horse
appears lame and I'd advise you not to continue." Ha, I just
love hearing that one when the horse was perfectly fine out
on the trail for the last 14 miles. My favorite is when all
the vets get together and make you trot out your horse one
more time. You know you're toast when this happens. I think
I still hold the record for the most trot outs at one vet
check (7). By the time I was done I was Grade Three lame and
no longer fit to continue. My heart rate would not come down
and my respiration was inverted. Someone suggested I remove
all my tack and hose off everything except for the rear end.
Another suggested an IV and started to shave off some of my
chest hair. Then this guy comes over, shoves a funnel down
my throat and proceeds to pour Lite Salt into my stomach,
which happens to be loaded with ulcers. The affect from all
that salt makes me burp and fart, simultaneously. The
subsequent pain in my stomach, from the salt eating away at
the ulcer openings, causes me to freak out completely. I
remove the funnel, pull out the IV and begin screaming to
the crowd that has gathered around me, "Pull me, please. As
God is my witness I can go on no longer. And will someone
please hand me my clothes?" And, Nancy marks me down as
pulled, "RO", for Rider Option. haha I
PART SEVEN
From that last paragraph you could probably surmise that
I've gone completely whacko when it comes to the sport of
endurance. If I were a younger man, and could find the horse
to do the job, I would actually consider doing a hundred
mile ride (yea, I know, I've changed considerably from those
early days). Since I cannot turn back the hands of time and
haven't found a horse that I think is capable of such a
feat, I stick to 50's and 25's. I do believe that one day
soon my daughter will attempt a hundred mile ride. Heck,
she's ready now, but I don't have the horse that is at that
level. But, I do know a few folks who do and I'm working on
them for her whenever I can. One of the things that did my
heart good was to see Nina, of all people, riding her young
horse in a 25 here at Leatherwood. It was the first time,
and probably the last, that I would ever see her doing a
Limited Distance event. She and her husband are both
renowned hundred milers. And I knew she knew Leatherwood
better than most riders here since she and Duane come out to
train on a regular basis. And, believe it or not, there was
a seasoned Pan Am rider here at Leatherwood also in the 25.
They were doing the LD as it was intended: for training. Jen
and I are still on the first loop, colored Pink, and we have
4 miles left. So far, the loop, except for the beginning, is
much easier than I ever expected. We seem to be descending,
gradually, so I think we'll be in the valley sooner than
expected. Rebel has yet to pass me and War Cry; Jen has
actually told me to slow down a couple of times. This is a
first, but I do as asked. I think trotting down these hills
actually makes my overly competitive daughter a bit nervous.
We still descend and I hear the running brook which means
we're close to the valley. We go past an old barn, cross a
creek, which connects to the brook (OK, I have no idea what
differentiates a brook from a creek; I'm just trying to be
creative here) and follow the trail that parallels the road
leading to the two large barns signifying the end of this
loop. We pull our horses back to the slow trot and even walk
for a little hoping to get their heart rates down. Both my
Arabs have fantastic metabolics and I'm hoping to slip ahead
of some folks at the vet check. Competition is in my blood
today (yea, I know it's just a training ride); I'm in total
shock that we've done the first 14 mountain miles in an hour
and 45 minutes. Quite a change from the last time I was
here. We get to the vet check area and there's a lot of
activity going on. Michelle spots us and asks if we need any
help. Are you kidding? I should have a sign on my back that
reads, "I Always Need HELP!" I know that my wife is busy in
the P & R area volunteering so I jump at Michelle's offer.
She has large buckets of water, racks for your tack and just
all kinds of cool stuff she had set up for her 50 mile ride;
the one she didn't go out on. I make sure not to tell
Michelle I think she might have made a mistake. I know she
has a temper and a stupid remark like that might set her
off. Michelle has a very cool hand held electronic heart
monitor and starts playing around with it. Jen and I take
our tack off and start sponging. In less than 5 minutes time
our Miss Helpful announces Rebel is already down. And so is
War Cry. Just amazing! To the vet area we travel. Michelle
yells out, "Walk, Howard, don't run, they're close." Erica
is busy with another horse and rider, and I don't think it
would be appropriate for her to P & R us anyway, so we go to
one of the other volunteers. They give us both a time in and
we proceed to another section where the vets are located.
The line is small and there are three vets working. We vet
through just fine although both Rebel and War Cry got B's on
gut sounds. The vet asks, "Are they eating on the trail?"
Obviously, this man has not seen the trail. I wanted to say,
"Ah, well, I haven't gotten them trained on eating rocks and
downed trees yet, but we're working on it." I kind of lied
and said they were eating fine, which they would soon be
doing in their stalls. I had already messed up their morning
feed so I was planning on making up for it right now. We put
the two Arabs in their stalls, Princess lets out a sigh of
relief, I throw together some soaked beet pulp with grain
and electrolytes and then I wander over to watch the wife
work. I bet she has a few stories to tell me about some of
these timid (sic) endurance riders. And, when she gets a
break she does. She told me the Jim thing, which I already
let ya'll in on (next time you see Jim ask him why Howard
calls him "30 second Jimbo"), and then she tells me about a
50 miler who got upset with her a little while pulsing in.
Erica, evidently didn't yell out the in time loud enough for
Nancy, the gatekeeper of all records, to hear. So this rider
says to my wife, "You need to be more aggressive." Now,
those with a short fuse probably would have lost it, right
then and right there, to show this lady just how aggressive
they can be, but my sweet wife just walked over to Nancy and
got the time for Miss "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right
now" endurance rider. (Don't ya just hate that stupid
commercial?) Jen and I were tacking up for our second and
final loop when a volunteer comes rushing in to Abbie and
announces "a horse is down" out on the trail. They figure
out where the horse is located and Abbie and the head vet
all take off lickety split. This does not sound good and I'm
wondering if it's on the same trail I'm about to head out on
since the 50 milers are doing the same order as us, just
sooner. Remind me to fill ya'll in later on this horse down
story. It might sound familiar. So far we've completed 14.5
miles and have 11 to go on the yellow loop. Now Michelle has
already told me the Yellow loop is the killer; the most
difficult one here. The third loop is the Blue one but only
the 50 milers get to experience it. Anyway, the first part
of the Yellow coincides with the Pink, so we get to do that
2 plus mile climb all over again before branching off to the
East. The horses travel a bit slower now, they're not tired,
but not as excited as they were early this morning when
traveling with 60 other fresh pace setters. We spot a rider
up ahead and I remember seeing her in that very first group
earlier. I tell Jen we're gonna follow her for a while. And
we do. One thing I've learned is if you can get someone else
to take the lead, and they set a good pace, your horse will
follow and it will be less stressful for him than it is on
the lead horse. Sort of like what the NASCAR guys do when
they "drag" (tailgate) behind another race car, but with the
horse it has nothing to do with cutting down the wind
resistance. We're cutting a little off his anxiety level and
giving him an incentive to keep moving.
PART EIGHT
This time, the 2 mile climb seems steeper and much more
difficult than the last time we were here. At one point War
Cry just stops, while going up a hill. Jennifer passes me
and continues upward. War Cry is panting so I ask Jen to
stop for awhile cause I can tell Rebel is breathing hard,
also. The weather has warmed quite a bit, maybe close to 60
or so, and that, added to these mountain climbs, are
starting to take their toll. We walk up the last stretch of
climbing and stop again where the trail levels off. The
horses catch their breath, and we proceed to trot, but it's
not a fast one. As soon as we branch off where the Pink and
Yellow separate, the trail turns into the rocks from Hell,
everything becomes incredibly steep and rugged. The footing
is the worst I've seen all day. We get to an area
appropriately named "Slick Rock Trail." Some of these rocks
protrude upward of 18 inches or so and they are everywhere.
And, we have found the mud Michelle was so worried about,
remnants from last nights rain. This is the Leatherwood I
remember from three years ago when it took me six hours to
do 25 miles. And the steepness just increased dramatically.
We walk down the hills and are lucky to get a trot out of
the horses going up. I think the canter just said Bye Bye
for the day. On and on it goes. We stay behind our newly
elected leader, but quite often she'll get ahead of us, and
then we eventually catch up to her. Jen stays ahead of me on
Rebel, who seems to be faring quite well but I think it's
because he has "The Flea" on his back instead of me. It's at
this point, midway on the yellow loop going up an incredible
incline, that I know I made the right decision not entering
that 50 miler here. Whoever came up with this route has one
sick sense of humor. We reach the last water stop and a
volunteer tells us we have 4 miles left to go. He then
announces there are only 5 riders ahead of our group of 3.
Uh oh, someone just threw a carrot in front of us. I did not
want to hear that and I'm wondering what happened to the 17
riders I know were in front of us after that first loop? And
the answer is we passed them all at the vet check, no doubt
about that one. So, of course, we all take off, knowing that
riders behind us will be gunning for our positions. I make
the mistake of telling Jennifer how this ride offers the
coolest prizes of all the rides I've attended; even to the
LDers. I see the look of greed on her face as she whispers
something in Rebel's ear and he begins to canter up another
steep incline. And, as I predicted, three other riders from
our rear gain ground and try to pass. One of the riders from
that group says, "50 miler coming through," so I slow down
and let her pass. As she does I see a W on her horse's butt
and realize she pulled a fast one on me; she's a 25 miler,
with a very good sense of humor. I've seen some riders do
unusual things to get that coveted top ten award, but this
one is a first, and I did think it was quite clever. The
other two riders, young girls who look to be 16 or so, pass
me and Jennifer. As the three of them canter up the hill
while Jen and I walk I tell my daughter that we'll get them
in the P & R. "Their horses looked tired, Jen. And remember,
we're here to train and ride all week long so if we come in
at eleven and twelve it's still pretty awesome." No comment
from my teenager. Sometimes, I wish the volunteers wouldn't
tell us what place we are in cause I'd rather not know. The
last 4 miles were the most toughest, grueling miles I've
ever experienced anywhere. The sun is out, I'm now wearing
only a sweated up T-Shirt, with my jacket wrapped around my
waist, and I'm started to think of getting off and walking
my horse. The only thing that stops me are these Ariat boots
I'm wearing, that are not made for walking. Next time I'll
be wearing sneakers if I can find a pair that will allow me
to keep my spurs on. I've never experienced this kind of
fatigue so early in the game. It will be quite interesting
to see how the 50 milers do as far as completions. Last
year, here at Leatherwood, the 50 mile completion rate was
less than 50 per cent, and it's no wonder. Quite a few folks
exceeded the time limit. Up to the very last mile we're
still climbing. This has got to be the toughest and longest
4 miles I've ever experienced. I will keep this loop in mind
and will avoid it like the plague during my week long stay.
I will experience the Blue loop, which I hear is almost as
bad, just so I can do it, but I think my week will be spent
traversing, over and over again, the lovely, much more
level, ridge line pink trail. Princess, my mare, looks great
in pink anyway. We come upon a rider who is walking his
horse, our former leader earlier this morning, wearing his
American Flag designed helmet. He hears us coming and mounts
up, not wanting us to pass. We start descending and I swear
if this isn't the final trek into the valley I'm going to
seriously question the distance of this loop. Down and down
we go, leaving the rocks from Hell, and finally, praise
Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Confucius, and all other spiritual
entities, we get to the paved road that takes us back to the
barn. I'm exhausted, War Cry is definitely tired, and I will
never forget this loop till the day I die. Yellow has just
become my least favorite color. We lumber back to the barn
trying to avoid Princess' gaze. It's going to be difficult
enough to get our horse's rate down to 60, which will
signify the order of the 25's. That's our finish line and
it's one of the rules that really do make the LD a learning
experience. Even though I do feel Jen and I have an
advantage by doing 50 milers, I know that we would never
have completed one here at Leatherwood. If you complete a 50
here you should seriously consider stepping up to a 100
miler. Michelle is fresh and perky, compared to Jen and
myself. She helps us again, wanting us to top ten. I think
it's a Florida thing; we all do feel kind of out of place up
here in these mountains and stick together. Out comes the
magical monitor and Rebel is mid 70's. We sponge, scrape,
sponge, scrape, over and over again. Michelle checks out War
Cry and he's just a bit higher than Rebel. I'm wondering how
he's going to do his trot out for completion once he does
come down? Well, I won't drag this out much longer. Aren't
you glad I'm not writing about a 50? We'd still have two
more loops to go if I did that. haha, Howard at Leatherwood,
part 49. Bear with me just a little longer. Because Steph
and John have this 17K limit put on any post to Ridecamp, I
will have to go to part nine, but it will be the final part,
I promise. You do want to hear about that downed horse,
right? Besides, I'm really anxious to hear Lisa's version
knowing how some of her ride turned out. Get to typing Lisa,
and don't forget those Wendy jokes. Wendy was one of the few
folks brave enough to visit my cabin, and when I took her up
our driveway she screamed louder than Jennifer and Erica
combined. lol.
PART NINE
Anyway, Jen and I did top ten (8th and 9th). To be quite
honest, I fully expected to get pulled, especially when
attempting to trot out War Cry. He stopped on me half way
and I was tugging on his reins the entire time. He,
obviously, did not want to go on. But, by some miracle, the
vet said, "Completed, we'll hold your card for BC. Next."
Now, lets get to that horse that went down, and guess where
it happened? Yep, you got it, on that dreaded yellow loop.
Now, keep in mind what I'm going to tell you falls under the
category of rumor and innuendo and has no element of truth,
whatsoever. I don't want to bad mouth anyone (I'm still
recovering from my battle with that woman from North
Georgia) and this entire story falls under the category of
complete and total fiction. Anyway, the downed horse was
ridden by a 50 miler. It was this horse and rider's first
ride (Rookie Horse, Rookie Rider), ever, in the sport. No LD
training, no visiting the ride as a volunteer, none of that.
The horse was a Quarter horse and the rider was from the
local area. I head that he was bragging to some folks before
the start of the ride of how he was going to kick some Arab
butt with his incredible horse, cause he knew these trails
and they had trained for this very hard. He fully expected
to win his first ride here at Leatherwood. "50 miles ain't
nothing," he said. Well, he did come in quite fast after the
first loop, which was the pink one. Then he hit yellow, and
I hear he kept pushing his Quarter horse, to the point where
the poor fellow went down on him. Just laid down on the
trail. By the Grace of God, one of the riders who witnessed
the whole thing just happened to a vet, and she carries
stuff with her while riding. She administered something to
the horse, my guess is a shot of banamine, but I don't
really know. She then made sure a volunteer was contacted
and that they were to go running back to the barn to get
some serious help up here, right away. Abbie, the head vet,
and a volunteer with a trailer, were contacted and they all
went up the mountain for this horse. If you've read my story
on this subject (Death Visits Ridecamp) you can probably
tell I have more than a passing interest on this aspect of
endurance. Even though I didn't start out on a 50 miler my
very first ride, I did pick up on the competitive nature our
sport has to offer and, when I did do that first 50, I had a
similar thing occur to me. It's something you never forget
and it let's you know that you really don't ever completely
know your horse as well as you may think you do. It has
changed my attitude about endurance totally and, hopefully,
for the better. (He who thinks he knows, doesn't know. He
who knows that he doesn't know: knows). That's from Joseph
Campbell, btw, not me. Anyway, the gentleman was quite
humbled on that trailer ride back to the barn. I got to talk
with the person who brought he and his horse down that
mountain and the rider was just so apologetic and upset with
himself, you couldn't stay mad at him no matter how wrong
you might think the whole thing was. He, obviously, loved
his horse, and was just extremely green to be attempting to
win a 50 mile ride here at Leatherwood. He didn't even know
about electrolytes and some of the other useful information
you learn along the way. And, he certainly did not know that
you should start out this sport traveling slow. And, I knew
if someone were to tell him, before this all happened, to
train with LSD in mind, he would think you were trying to
sell him illegal drugs. But, I bet he knows what LSD stands
for now. The horse recovered and I don't think it even ended
up on an IV. I'm not sure if the rider stayed on for the
awards or not; I doubt if he did. But, I can guarantee you
he left camp with an entirely different attitude, and
respect for this new sport he had decided to become a part
of. And, as serious as it all was, I bet he never forgets
the experience and I hope he returns to try it all again
someday. I know I took off almost 6 months after it happened
to me, and I came very close to quitting the sport all
together, only to crew for my daughter, a job in which I
performed quite poorly, because, you see, I still wanted to
ride. I knew that I was meant for this sport, but felt,
somehow, that, maybe, the sport might not be meant for me.
At the awards that night Phil presented us with some great
prizes. (Jen and I both received this embroidered blue, long
sleeve shirt that says "Leatherwood top ten, 25 miles). You
should have seen what the 50 milers, top ten, received.
Custom made jackets, also embroidered, that had to be worth
more than their price of admission. I bet Phil kicked in the
money for this from his own coffers, cause the math would
not add up to allow for these incredible awards, after
paying for the vets and other debts incurred when putting on
a ride, especially one with the class of Leatherwood. The
coolest thing they did was give Nancy, time keeper
extraordinaire, one of these jackets. And, as Nancy went up
to get hers, she received a standing ovation. We all just
love Nancy to death. When Susan Kasemeyer went up to receive
her completion award Phil made the mistake of given her the
microphone. Actually, Susan, who is anything but shy, took
it out of Phil's hands. She started talking about how
terrific the ride was and then she said something to the
effect that she may have been hallucinating out there on the
last loop, cause she was so high, literally, up there on the
mountain top, she swore she saw a male pilot flying one of
those jetliners up close, and damn, if he wasn't wearing any
clothes. And she looked right at me while she said it all. I
almost started to cry, cause I knew she was alluding to one
of my stories where I swore I had a conversation with a
female, dressed in similar fashion, on my last loop, when I
actually did complete my first 50, almost 3 years ago. These
endurance friends, if you're lucky enough to keep em, will
last you a lifetime. Thanks to everyone: Michelle (we never
would have done so well without your help and knowledge),
Susan (for just being so damn cool), Abbie (I bet I'm not
the only middle aged male who thinks you're the cat's meow),
and Phil (the inventor of the Leatherwood Extreme Endurance
Challenge and a super fellow). I'm finished now. I bet ya'll
are relieved to hear that. Please email me, personally, not
on ridecamp, if you enjoyed it. Even if you didn't, if you
bothered to read all this, tell me how bad you thought it
all was. cya, Howard Potter (the chirpless and wingless bird
who is able to take flight while atop the spirit of a horse)
<< BACK TO
NEWS AND EVENTS |
