Tevis Epilogue

Monday August 24 2009

Now that the dust of Tevis has settled (haha!) I can sum it up in one word - if that's possible - Amazing. (Well, maybe two words - Amazing, and Dust. : )

There is nothing easy about the Tevis, not from the moment you start at 5:15 AM, until you finish - wherever your finish may be. Every endurance ride has its challenges and difficulties, but the Tevis Cup has 100 miles of it. It's extreme, challenging, relentless, frantic, exhilarating, heart-breaking, exhausting, exasperating, insane, exciting, treacherous.

Yes, the Tevis trail is dangerous. However, though the Tevis has many (many) miles of perilous steep drop-offs and cliffs to ride along, many endurance rides have treacherous trails. You don't even have to have a dangerous trail to have a human or horse accident. You don't have to ride endurance to have a human or horse accident. Heck just being around horses can be dangerous. Anybody who owns a horse knows that even if he is just standing in a padded stall, he can find a way to kill himself. As for humans, just walking out your front door can be dangerous. You can die sitting on your couch. Everybody has to go some way, so you might as well not fret about it, and do what you enjoy doing.

We choose to take our horses on endurance rides, and hopefully, they do get some enjoyment out of it. I know my horse did. We put their lives at risk riding them, asking them to do things... but any horse is at risk, be it the most pampered pet horse or a wild mustang. Every horse has to go some way too, so it may as well be something he enjoys doing or excels at. Most riders tackling something monumental like the Tevis have some sense of what they are doing, and have prepared their horse well.

The death of Ice Joy was a tragedy, but neither his rider Skip Kemerer (over 4000 miles) nor Ice Joy (nearly 3000 miles) were inexperienced. May Ice Joy rest in peace, and may Skip eventually get some peace.

There's no certain winning formula for finishing Tevis. The best horse and rider combination is not guaranteed a silver buckle. (Although, if you study Hal Hall - 32 starts, 26 finishes - and Barbara White - 39 starts, 29 finishes - you'll learn a thing or two.)

And regarding experience on the Tevis trail, I am proof of the following points.

1) Ignorance is not necessarily a bad thing. By being somewhat unenlightened about things, you spend a lot less time worrying about things - which really gets you nowhere anyway.

2) Pre-riding the trail is not necessary for every rider and every horse.

Pre-riding the trail may help you mentally and it may help your horse... or it may not. One person once pre-rode his horse, who wasn't fond of river crossings, over the trail, taking him through the American River where he'd be crossing during Tevis, to get the horse used to it. The water was high, the horse got a little nervous, but they got across. During Tevis, the horse, remembering his previous experience, got uptight during the crossing, and tied up afterwards. Another person this year got lost in the last 4 miles; pre-riding the trail may have helped him not take a wrong turn in the dark. As for pre-riding the cliffs on the California trail... do you really need to do that? I preferred to see them for the first time during Tevis, because they weren't going to change at all, and you just had to keep going anyway.

What Tevis REALLY is all about, IMO, is Luck. Luck plays a part in any outcome with horses, and Tevis Luck plays a huge part in every horse's and rider's result.

It was good luck that the unfamiliar saddle I rode in did not bother my knee at all - or else I'd have had serious problems. It was great luck that this was possibly one of the coolest Tevises on record - or else I would have had really serious problems. It was luck I was riding a horse that had completed Tevis already, who knew the trail and was unintimidated by anything, was fit, and that I got along with. It was luck I was riding with some people who knew the trail. It was luck my horse didn't fall down when he tripped big time that one time in the dark. It was luck we spent just the right amount of time at vet checks. It was luck that we finished with 19 minutes left. It was luck we finished. The Tevis Gods were smiling on me that day and night.

Everything about the ride was absolutely amazing. The trails were amazing. Just the thought of crossing the Sierra Nevadas on a horse, just like so many pioneers did over a hundred years ago, on some of those same trails, with the same views, the same difficulties, was awe inspiring.

The volunteers were unbelievable - there to help you at every vet check/trot by. "Food, water, hold your horse, do anything else for you?" There are 6-800 Tevis volunteers - a statistic that is in itself astounding. Friends were amazing: some showed up to cheer me on, some showed up at different crew spots to help us and other riders.

My Idaho crew and fellow Idaho riders were amazing - I couldn't, of course, have done it without them. I know now I sure don't want to CREW this ride, because it was a very stressful job for them (3 crew, 5 riders) - especially that first vet check at Robinson Flat! I wouldn't have known how fast to ride my borrowed horse; and of course I wouldn't have had a horse to ride in the first place without Nance. Quinn was all ready to go for Tevis, ready to just hop on... which is literally what I did. Got on him for the first time Friday, for 30 minutes, and the second time Saturday for a hundred miles.

And speaking of my horse Quinn: he was utterly amazing. Nance said, "Oh, he'll perk up when the sun goes down." He was never NOT energetic. He got stronger as the day went on; I even had to put gloves back on leaving Francisco's at 68 miles. The power that was coming up from those legs, mile after mile after mile of challenging and demanding trail, was simply astounding.

It deserves to be said again that thanks go out to Tom Noll who cancelled, to Kevin and Julie who absolutely had no doubts (like I did) about me riding and finishing, to my crew Bruce and Chris and Gentry, and fellow riders Nance, Kara, Laura and Chandler; and most of all, thanks to Nance, who just gave me this horse to ride, and to Quinn, who did it all. (Really - I just sat in the saddle.)

Three weeks have passed since the 2009 Tevis Cup. Every night I pull out my silver Tevis buckle (when I can get it away from the Raven) and look at it and think... Did I really ride in the Tevis? Did I really complete it? Still can't believe it.

I don't think I need to ride the Tevis again. I'm not obsessed with it. It took my friend Judy 9 years to want to ride it again, and heck, the oldest finisher was 80, so I have a couple years to go yet before I have to think about trying it again. Besides, I really am proud of my 100% Tevis completion rate. That may well have been 50% Luck, 50% Horse, but nevertheless, it's MY Tevis record.

Then again, I HAVE already been offered a horse for next year...

And then again, there's always new challenges on the endurance trail. Like the Bighorn 100...

Just Like a Good Neighbor

Sunday August 23 2009

...Lost Juniper Ranch is there!

Carol backed out of riding today on new trails so that Connie, Steph and I could go in our 3-horse trailer. It was to be Connie and Finneas' first Field Trip!

Everybody got up early enough and quickly downed enough coffees, and we left at 8 AM. Hauled up Bachman Grade road closer to the Owyhee mountains to our starting point. Unloaded the horses. Saddled up.

Uh Oh.

Three helmets, three bridles, three saddles... two girths. Argh!

Now what - unhitch, Steph drive back to get a girth? It would take over an hour. Got anything in the trailer or truck we could jerry-rig a girth with? While Steph rooted around, Connie - who happened to bring her cell phone, and who happened to get reception - called Carol and Rick next door. ("You talk to her." "No, you talk to her!" "No, here, you talk to her!") The Brands don't only sell trail and endurance horses at their Lost Juniper Ranch, they run a neighbor rescue operation.

Connie left several messages on their busy phone, sounding pitiful and pitiable ("I'm leaving tomorrow, I really want to ride..." - with a chorus of "PLEASE!"s harmonizing in the background).

Connie got Carol on the third try, and Carol was horrified Steph had almost gotten a possibly workable girth she was tightening on Rhett, made of reins, a shipping boot, and latigo strings.



Heck, it might work, we were only doing a 3-4 hour ride!

"Wait! We'll be right there with a girth! Need anything else?"

By now the skies were quite overcast (I checked the forecast... only "showers" and not "thunderstorms" predicted, and I was pretty sure those clouds held only rain), light rain was falling all around us, and drops had already started spitting on us too. "Yes, bring some rain jackets!"

The horses got to graze, and 28 minutes later, a fast moving streak of dust was headed our way on the road: Brands to the rescue with girth and raincoats! "I drove 70!" Rick said. (Not through Oreana, of course; our neighbors want us going 25.)

Our heros departed, we saddled up for real this time, left at 11 AM, and headed up a road along the foot of the Owhyees. About three miles of the road was rocky, but the rest was great footing. It was new trail for me too - Day 1 of the June Almosta Bennett Hills ride came this way, but at the time I was whinging about a broken toe and sat it out.

We made a right turn up and into one little canyon I dubbed "Eyeball Canyon" because the raindrops were stinging Jose in the eyeballs and he didn't like it. Steph saw a pig's snout in some of the rock formations. I saw a deer (a real one) and figured there must be cougars up here, because if I were a cougar, this is where I'd hang out. Some of the Juniper trees' branches were bowed from the weight of blue berries (technically, they are cones, not berries). No bears in these mountains, so hopefully something is enjoying them.

We turned away from the mountains and headed for the Browns Creek drainage, and came upon a field of bright sunflowers, their heads up east still waiting for the sun to appear. It was a great place for a picnic stop for the horses, and a picnic for us out of Connie's always-present Goodie Bag. The horses wanted in Connie's Goodie Bag too.





The boys got sunflowers in their bridles. Jose was entranced by a bumblebee that was stuck in a tangle of sunflower leaves.

On down the trail, we passed an old cabin and mine on the creek, then a little further passed another old cabin. Back up onto the flats, and we had some good long trots and canters, and a few gallops, heading back for the trailer. The boys had fun. The girls did too.

I love all our trails here, but I just love covering new country, riding over new trails, especially good footing where you can move out. It's all a wonderland, this high desert with its surprise canyons, and the Owyhee Mountains with their hidden creeks and gorges.


Thanks to the rescue by our neighbors, we got to see a little more of it today.

(I think from now on this 20-mile loop trail will be known as the Forgotten Girth trail.)



More photos at Forgotten Girth Trail on Endurance.net

Anatomy of a Roll

Saturday August 22 2009

The best spot for rolling in Owyhee!

Sacrosanct Wilderness

Tuesday August 18 2009

Take a day to recharge your batteries, to go it alone on your own two feet for a while, to reconnect with the Real World. Take an epic (for a low-lander) hike into the Sierra Nevada Mountains - the Hoover Wilderness and the backside of Yosemite National Park. Pick a perfect August day when the weather is almost like it is in late September: cool, slight breeze, no thunderstorms.


Start at the Green Creek trailhead at 7800'. Plunge into the Jeffrey and aspen forest. Hug a Jeffrey tree, smell the vanilla bark. Don't bother hugging an aspen - the aspen aren't interested. Hug the infrequent, splendid grandfather Western Juniper tree, feel the soft bark against your ear.

As you climb, the Jeffreys will give way to the lodgepole pines, sharing space with white fir and red fir and the great Western Hemlocks. Hug a lodgepole, scare an indignant mountain chickadee out of the branches. "Chick-a-dee dee dee DEE!"


Skirt Green Lake, continue climbing to where the lodgepole forest bows to the Western White pine. They are short, scrubby; the soil is thin and this is where the wind howls in the winter and snow can be measured in dozens of feet. Some of the pines are permanently bowed from the wind and snows.


Hike below rugged sentinel peaks reaching to 9 and 10,000', guarding alpine lakes that are the sharp blue color of the Mediterranean: East Lake, Nutter Lake, Gilman Lake, each one higher than the next. Pass under Epidote Peak, whose snow patches still cling to its sides and drain into the twin Hoover Lakes.

Stop to touch the lakes - cold. Inviting. Watch little fish leap in the air because you didn't bring a fishing pole. Smell the flowers blooming by the lake.


Continue a steady ascent, walking over rock steps and walls and water breaks that you put in on the trail crew years ago. Climb to Summit Lake, a blue jewel hanging on the roof of the Sierras, and Summit Pass at 10,250'.


Stop and sit a spell by Summit Lake, and listen: the silence of the mountains is different than the silence of the desert. Close your eyes, and you feel and hear their immense presence in the soundlessness. The mountains are... big. Significant. Permanent. In the mountains, you know how unimportant you are. The mountains will still be here after the trivial humans are gone and the Ravens have inherited the earth.

Up here, it's just you and the wilderness: you and the forest, the mountains, the lakes, the chipmunks, deer, birds, marmots. The bears are here, somewhere. Taking a nap, maybe. Or grazing in a lower meadow. Maybe there's a cougar. I complained to my Ranger friend once, that in all my years here, I hadn't seen a cougar. "Oh," he said, "but they see you!"

You (the lowlander) may be a bit tired after your hike up to 10,000'. But you can't stop now and turn around. If you go one step further west, you will step into Yosemite National Park. You can hike down into Yosemite, loop back into the Hoover to Green Lake on a different trail. A little extra mileage maybe, and another climb, but new trail you haven't seen before. You must go on.

You step over Summit Pass into Virginia Canyon in Yosemite. "Pass" indicates 'uphill' in one direction, down in the other. It's a long steep descent. Nearly a thousand feet.

Down into Virginia Canyon and the headwaters of Return Creek. At the bottom the trail forks: left - deep into Yosemite, trails to follow for days, weeks. Right - Virginia Pass, and back into the Hoover. Another "Pass" means another 'uphill'. The sign says it's only 1.6 miles to the pass. It takes you well over an hour.


The first part is a moderate climb, following the tumbling creek. The trail opens up into a spectacular meadow, surrounded by a crown of mountains - a cathedral of peaks in the wilderness. Virginia Peak, at 12,001' is the crown jewel. You are the only one here to soak it all up. You were meant to be here today.


You lose the trail in the meadow. You really don't care. You are in no hurry. You pull out your map, decipher by the topo lines where the trail is supposed to go, where the pass should be, in which saddle - otherwise, Virginia Peak will draw you in the wrong direction like a magnet to its top. Too late in the day, too tired to do that.

You may be too tired to even make it up to Virginia Pass. You have to bushwack straight up the mountain, blaze your own trail, and it's quite steep. One foot in front of the other, a few steps and rest, as you regain back the thousand feet you gave up to experience the wilderness kingdom. Turn to look over your shoulder as you climb, at the circle of peaks around you: Soldier, Stanton, Virginia, Twin Peaks; to the distant south the jagged ridge of Shepherd's Crest, still holding pockets of snow.


The pass you are aiming for is on the shoulder of Camiaca Peak, one you've climbed in years past. The high peaks seem more reasonable now, as you gain altitude. You are looking almost across at some of them, instead of up. Across the vast meadow now far below, Virginia Peak looks doable. But not today. It will still be there next time.

It takes you a long time to gain the pass. You don't mind. You get your second wind at the top, as you step back into the Hoover Wilderness, and say goodbye to Yosemite, and your private, sacred cathedral meadow.


Several times you lose the un-maintained trail in the descent through Glines Canyon back to Green Lake - but you don't care, because it's an easy climb/scramble down - down boulder fields, across little pocket meadows, through hidden little fields of flowers, past secret tarns, always with imposing peaks on both sides lining your insignificant passage. Little springs and snow run-offs become little creeks which join to form a roaring stream that - far below - dumps into Green Lake.

After 12 or so miles, and two high passes, you (the out-of-shape low-lander) are pretty whooped now, but when you rejoin your loop trail below Green Lake, you have a skip in your step for the final 2 downhill miles.

You just had a good long-awaited dose of the Hoover Wilderness and a glimpse of Yosemite; you discovered a new wilderness paradise that you had all to yourself for a brief time.

Something to hang onto until the next time you return.


More Hoover Wilderness-Yosemite photos