Ontario Provincial Championships/Ace’s First 100
My friend Sylvia, managing to wrangle her passport in an expedited fashion from the Feds, came up from Pittsburgh on Tuesday, and we headed north with Ace for the 100 mile ride in Ontario on Thursday.
After our last two truck-adventure-filled trips, I am pleased to say that the drive and border crossing was blissfully uneventful.
There’s a certain casualness about the Canadian rides, much of it likely because the Canucks are so close-knit, and because they’re all familiar with where they’re going, how to get there, when various events are likely to happen, and to whom to go for particular information. I’m told that I’m as close to as a Canadian as an American can get (a high compliment, I’m sure) but I’m still often left scratching my head, perplexed – for example, Syl and I unhitched (complete with our written “unhitching directions”) to go out to the vet checks, armed with the lovely map that was in my registration packet. It.could.not.be.found.
When I found a Canadian chum to get some more information, the issue was easily resolved by the revelation that a road, clearly shown and marked on the map, um, didn’t really exist as a road.
Okaaaaaay.
Ace settled in beautifully, ate well, took me for a nice little spin on some of the close-by trails, and it was only late in the evening before the ride that we discovered that he’d fallen in love with our next door neighbor’s horse. When they took said new BFF for a walk. When Ace then began doing SRS-worthy airs above the ground in his paddock, and proving that you indeed CAN canter in a 14×14 square area.
Syl and I started scheming about how, precisely, we’d manage to get Ace tacked up and out of camp in the a.m., then hit the sack.
Got some sleep, and was up at 4 to prep for a 5:30 start. Tacking up was dicey, as the neighbor’s horse had been removed from his paddock. Ace was amped, to say the least. Since it was dark, and Ace was rarely still for more than a nanosecond, I could only hope that everything was straight and even and secure and in the right spot.
Syl and I both know that Ace is safer once you are ON him (Syl’s ridden Ace in a few rides for me) so I was on FAR earlier than I’d have wanted to be for a 5:30 start. Had the pleasure of dodging a loose horse in camp while mounted, but Ace was actually manageable, if not quiet and calm.
The 75s and 100s all went out together, about 30 horses or so total, and we were roughly in the middle of the pack. Ace learned a new trick, tossing his head. This was unpleasant. I tried all manner of methods to discourage this. I growled. I tried an arret (not too effective with a running martingale and hackamore). I boxed him once with my legs, but that ended with a near bolt, complete with more head tosses. I tried giving him more rein. I tried flexing left, then flexing right. I actually tried my husband’s method of slapping him on the side of the neck and saying “NO!” Then I just sat up and decided to try to survive it.
It was, however, punishing. As we trotted along, mostly passing horses, Ace tossing his head, swinging it left then right, I was getting tossed about like a pudgy equestrian ragdoll. Ace is a narrow horse, much narrower than Ned, and in general, he drives more like an SUV without shocks than Ned, who feels like a Cadillac by comparison. I was mumbling to myself that I was going to pay later for these shenanigans.
Ace and I had done much of this trail the prior year, so we recognized when we were coming into the vet check at 15 miles. Syl had landed a great parking spot, and we walked right in, let Ace have a drink from the tank, then headed right to the vets since his pulse was down. All As, CRI of 60/52, and a quick 30 minute hold. Ace ate just fine, if you think its “fine” that he’d take a mouthful, walk a circle, toss his head, sling slushie everywhere, then repeat. Ad infinitum. I gave him a half dose of electrolytes since he’d eaten a fairly good dose in the slushie he had NOT flung onto our shirts.
Did the first 15 miles in just over an hour so promised Syl I’d “try to slow down” on the next 12.5 section of trail.
We did, mostly, walking a long, gnarly section of trail, doing most of this loop on our own. Ace got slightly miffed when they modified the course from last year, leaving us to ride through a farm where we’d had a vet check here. Could almost hear Ace saying “hey, wait a minute, we stop and eat here – where’s the chow?”
We had a scary moment too, on this section of trail, where Ace took a 90 degree trail turn on a muddy section, slicker than it looked, almost going down. He managed to catch himself, and I asked him to walk a few strides, asking if he was okay, patting him, and wondering aloud if that near fall would catch up with us later.
For the time, however, he felt grand, and while we slowed down some, I was still way ahead of schedule when I reached the next vet check. Ace was a bit better behaved but I remarked aloud to several people how happy I was going to be when he actually got tired. All As again, 60/52 CRI, and another dose of lytes.
It was starting to get hot and humid, and here’s where I think I made my first mistake. Since we were seeing Syl roughly every hour and a half, I was not electrolyting on trail. This partly because Ace’s metabolic scores were looking good, but also partially because electrolyting Ace with a syringe is a bit of a battle. Ned can be given ‘lytes by pulling on the right rein, bringing his head around, and simply squirting the lytes in the corner of his mouth; impossible with Ace, who will throw himself (and you) to the ground if you attempt such a thing. (Ask me how I know.) So it must be done from the ground and is only marginally more pleasant.
The third leg of the trail, which took us back to the base camp, was great fun, with one section of knee-knocker trail that would have left Ned in knots, literally. Ace trotted and in some cases, cantered, sections of it, neatly avoiding smashing my knee caps. Barely. We rode with some of our Canadian friends here, and Ace knew he was heading back to camp and was just as goey now as he’d been at the start.
Did that 12.5 miles in under an hour, leading me to believe it had to be a wee bit short, walked in, pulsed down, then vetted through. Art, the vet, was really impressed by Ace, said we were passing horses at every check by riding smart and pulsing down so quickly. Forty miles done and things were looking good.
More feed, more electrolytes and out for a 17.5 mile loop which was largely repeat trail from the previous loop. This was the first time I felt Ace get even vaguely demoralized; I am pretty sure he was convinced that we were going to repeat the entire 40 mile loop, but when we took the short cut to return us back to camp, and were joined up by some other horses, he was all racy business again, pulling me down the trail. We stopped for water a couple of times where Ace drank well, but no electrolytes on trail.
We were changing leads, switching diagonals, going from two point to posting to half seat. I was feeling a little tired, I think the heat was getting to me, but did the loop in under 2 hours (I was WAY ahead of my projected schedule for Sylvia). Got a little queasy when I dismounted, asked Syl to vet Ace while I hit the potty (hard to stop and pee when you’re going that fast) and met her at the vet area post-potty.
Watched Ace trot away and was “OH NO!” immediately. He was tight in the RH. Art assured us we could work on the cramp and have him rechecked at the end of the hold to see if he was better, but I told him no way was 40 miles going to be therapeutic for a tight hind end.
We took him back to our crew spot, let him eat, and damn if I didn’t discover a knot WAY high up on his right hindquarter, directly to the right of his anus. BIG knot. Took him up to show Art, pulled officially, and Art remarked that he’d never seen a knot so high up. We talked electrolytes, agreed that that was probably where I went wrong (although the near fall probably didn’t help and may have been the start of the problem), and talked about getting him rehydrated and full of feed then bute him.
At this point, the heat was getting to ME, so we wandered back to the trailer, where Syl, an angel, fussed over Ace, fed him, lyted him, rubbed him with Sore No More, and gave him some probiotics (I was less than impressed by his gut sounds when I rechecked them back at camp) while I mostly sat and drank warm Gatorade, trying to get the energy to change and shower.
I felt horrible for the next couple of hours, so there was probably some divine intervention in the timing of Ace’s cramp. I’m figuring that adrenaline might have kept me going, but who knows. We’ve certainly had little heat, so I was unprepared for such a hot, muggy ride, particularly when Ace was making me work so hard.
We putzed around all evening, eating our favorite ride camp food, cold pork lo mein and Lay’s potato chips (all the food groups covered), and fussing over Ace, who remained chipper but definitely tight in that right hind. Buted him and Surpassed him when we were certain that he was metabolically fine.
The next morning he was somewhat improved, but I think he backslid a bit when he piaffed for an hour or so, certain that he was going to be tacked up again and taken back out. <rolling eyes>
Saw Tom Paleczny, with whom I rode quite a few miles, especially on that last loop (he finished at 9 p.m. or so nursing some badly broken ribs from a fall a couple of weeks prior – what a tough nut!). I was anxious to ask him if he’d seen Ace looking “hitchy” behind because he rode right behind me a lot during the last several miles we rode. Nope, he said, Ace looked great right into the hold, which at least comforted me that he hadn’t been able to see something I didn’t feel. At all. (I usually can feel, pretty well, even a slightly NQR horse, but I was concerned maybe I’d lost my feel, since I was feeling a little unwell myself.)
Syl and I pulled out our written “hitching directions” and were following them to the letter, when we discovered that even when fully raised, our trailer hitch was not clearing the flatbed of the truck. Fark. Between emptying the water tanks, and the foot of the trailer settling a bit on the wet ground, it was just enough to prevent us from clearing.
Syl, a genius to be sure, grabbed three of the women camping near us, convinced them to sit/lie on the flatbed and voila, just enough weight to allow the hitch to clear and we lined up, backed in, and got the hitch hitched on our first try.
Women power! (Can you hear us roar?!)
I only wish I’d gotten photos of the ladies ducked down under the gooseneck as Sylvia backed the truck in, with me, with my total lack of depth perception, running from the side of the truck to the back of the truck, to make sure we were lined up in both dimension.
Loaded Ace, still not happy about hauling such an owie horse but not having much of a choice, and headed back to the US of A, with not so much as a near miss or a border dispute on the way home.
So one mission accomplished. I didn’t hit a darned thing with the truck.
And 58.5 miles completed with Ace, and a bunch of lessons learned.
This morning, Saturday, I trotted Ace out and he is entirely sound, thank heavens. So I am going with the electrolyte (or lack thereof) theory combined with a delayed reaction to some particular owie from the near fall.
Onward and upward.