Endurance.Net Ridecamp Archives

Being one of the riders (one of the 100% completion Featherweights!!
Yeaaaa!! ), I have to say that this trail is perhaps the most incredibly
beautiful, most CHALLENGING trail I've yet to encounter.  

The start in the morning was under a clear, vast, cold universe of a million
stars, more stars than anyone could ever count. We followed a silver ribbon
of gravel road and lots of eerie green glow sticks hanging like ghostly
fingers from the roadside trees, marking the way as we kept going up, up and
up to the top of Edinburg Gap to a pulse and go at the 8 mile mark staffed
with a zillion volunteers all bundled up against the cold.  Stagg Newman was
so sweet -- he immediately stepped forward and grabbed my reins to trot out
my pony for me (he's a pony lover, too!) since I was not quite recovered
from a recent illness and unable to trot him out myself. I was quite
grateful, seeing how I was also a bit seasick ... no, let me re-phrase that
... I was VERY seasick . from miles of glow sticks waving up and down and up
and down in the dark. (Another reason I have absolutely zero desire to do a
1-day 100!).

Then off again, the trail crossing Edinburg Gap where we thanked the nice
volunteer there to control traffic on this paved road.  The trail now led
upwards onto less groomed terrain  heading to Curtis Field, 12 mile distant.
It was still dark and since I was suffering the effect of the glow stick
induced seasickness, my companion (Lightweight Division) and I were content
to walk for a bit while I struggled to recover control of my stomach.  I
bless her for carrying peppermints for her horse -- two was enough to calm
the internal revolt. I owe her horse a whole bag in gratitude. The bright
little stars slipped away, almost  unnoticed, leaving the skies to the grand
entrance of a magnificent dawn that swept in with regal bearing,
illuminating the heavens and mountaintops in a dazzling display of oranges
and golds.  We took up a trot, noting we could now see the many puddles of
water on trail, left from the rains on Friday.  This was the way the 100's
had come home, but now the hoof prints all led in the direction we were
traveling.

Within 3 hours we were at Curtis Field to meet our wonderful crew, bless
them! While waiting out our hold time the weather suddenly became quite
angry. The temps took an  unexpected tumble into the shivering cold range,
and a sweeping line of nasty rain clouds marched in, overtaking  the sky
like an invading army. A light sprinkle of rain began falling as a warning.
Riders girded for the weather, heading back out on trail in thick warm
parkas, horses dressed in warm rump rugs.  We headed out on the 2nd loop
that took us up the famous Veach Gap, heading up into the heights where the
sun was struggling to hold its position, lancing the clouds with brilliant
beams of sunlight in a valiant attempt to keep command of the skies.  I
could only hope it didn't begin to rain as we were now going to be on one of
the hardest, slowest section of trail, going across the top of the eastern
Massanutten towards for the 3rd check at Foster's Landing next to the
Shenandoah River.

The views from the top of the Massanuttens were drop dead *awesome* at
certain spots on the trail. Imagine riding through thick woods of crimson,
gold and yellows, your horse trotting along, sagely finding the perfect
sequence of where to put his hoofs among the rocks on a path richly carpeted
in brown and gold fallen leaves... and suddenly you look up at a break in
the trees where a breathtaking view awaits. You look down on one side of the
mountain into a valley bursting in gold and reds and yellows, and on the
other side of the mountain the Shenandoah River appears far below looping
among the still green fields and colorful woodlands in a wide ribbon of
glittering silver. I know these views... but yesterday there were times when
I twisted around in my saddle, trying desperately to drink in the very last
second of each scenic overlook before the autumn trees closed their leafy
curtain again to bring my all-important attention back to the trail. It
least my pony stayed focused, his hooves moving in a beautifully rhythmic,
expertly choreographed dance among the rocks.  How he does it, I just don't
know, but I knew to sit quiet and let him call the steps and rhythm, while I
orchestrated the music that set the speed and tone. We passed some riders
and then were joined by two other riders who were happy to follow our lead,
all of us chatting amiably as we rode along. 

Midway along the 2nd loop the battle between the sun and the clouds was
finally won, with full victory being given to warmth and sunshine. The
clouds and cold retreated to vent their frustration on an unsuspecting Front
Royal while the valley was left to bask in a warm flood of sparking sunlight
filtering among the autumn foliage.  The views transformed themselves from
lovely to magnificent.  We found ourselves ohhhing and ahhhing over every
vista, and practically every tree on the trail. At one point the trail lead
into a tunnel of brilliant crimson laden trees, with a thick red carpet of
leaves elegantly covering the entire trail in front of us.  The rider behind
me gasped at the sheer beauty of it.  All of us felt it -- it was almost
magical.  A moment that I will never forget.

The trail finally began to descend, down, down, down, until we hit the wide
gravel road that would take us the final miles to Foster's Landing.  Here,
finally, was a chance to stretch out, letting the horses canter and
hand-gallop as the river flowed alongside to our left, peeking at us from
among the trees as we flashed by. The Massanutten rose in a forbidding wall
to our right, a billion year old geological signpost telling us we still had
miles to go, stern and insurmountable, following our progress like a
schoolmaster, almost urging us along if we lagged.  The road ran on and on
without stopping, dipping up and down, neatly shouldered by the river and
the  mountain range, on and on until the open sweep was suddenly narrowed to
half by a herd of trucks parked off to the side. We looked up to see people
waiting in the distance, watching us.  It was time to breathe a sigh of
relief. We'd finally reached Fosters.

In the hold my pony more inclined to nap than eat. No problem -- I packed my
saddle bags with carrots and apples to feed him along the way. The hold was
over almost before it began, and  the forbidding Hebron Gap rose straight
above us, like Mt. Everest, as we left the out timer.  Up, up, and up even
more we climbed that narrow trail of loose rock and sandy dirt. Up and up we
trudged, like mountaineers scaling the side of the mighty Massanutten.  Even
the trees were angled, leaning hard into the mountainside in a game attempt
to remain upright. Several times our horses had to stop and rest, just
catching their breath for a moment before gamely tacking the trail once
more.  I got off and walked at one point, taking frequent stops at scrubby
outcropping of grass which my pony eagerly consumed.  The trail mentally and
physically beat at you, at your resolve, and your grit and determination to
continue.  But we did continue, because the prize was only 11 miles distant.


Eventually, the trail capitulated, and we found ourselves at the top of the
mountain range again. However, the trail had not ceded defeat, and once
again we were led into a merry dance among the famous OD rocks all festive
in their Halloween dress of colorful fallen leaves.   Down, down, then up
and up, then down and down the trail led us into the valley, throwing mine
fields of rock cropping at us in strategic spots so that progress forward
was stop and go, sometimes fast, most times slow and careful.  I parted
company from my friend where some lush grass that had taken over a small
clearing in the woods.  She continued on as I stayed to let my guy relax and
eat.  He chowed down on the sweet grass, and we sallied forth a short time
later, both in a brighter mood. 

My guy and I were now on our own, affording me the chance to really look
around, taking in all the geological wonders -- the rocky tumbles of
ancient, lichen covered boulders gathered in long, steep rock-slide heaps
from the last great ice age, the mountain springs that gushed out of the
sides of the mountain, so crystal clear that I was tempted to sample them
myself as my pony drank the pure water to his heart's content.  All of my
senses took in the silence of the deep colorful woods, and the determined
trail as it bent and dipped along the winding folds of the mountainside,
leading me from one breath catching beautiful spot to another.   In truth,
this is a trail that is meant to be seen from the quiet solitude of
horseback where the woods wrap around your shoulders like the arm of an old
friend, escorting you through an endless gallery of Nature's finest, and
most ancient, artwork in wood and stone, and sky and water. Everything was
so achingly beautiful. 

All too soon the tour had come to an end -- the last and final vet check was
in sight.  Within the last mile I had passed several other riders and re-met
my companion just two minutes after her in-time.  She preceded me out of the
hold, but the finish line lay only a mile down the road, and my pony,
refreshed and exuberant, was happy to fly past his former companion, just
for the fun of it,  yards before the finish line.  A quick trip back to base
camp to get cleaned and spiffed up for the final vetting, and then my most
wonderful-in-the-whole-world crew person did the final trot out with my pony
for me. And a big smile from the vet told us -- we had our completion.

What an experience! 

I want to thank the wonderful, WONDERFUL volunteers who treated us so nicely
all day long, to Stagg Newman for trotting my pony out for me at the pulse
and go, and to the nice man (also at the pulse and go) who filled my pockets
full  of horse cookies for my pony (since I'd forgotten mine when I left
base camp) - I want to let him know my pony loved them. To the volunteers at
ride camp, Curtis, Foster's and Hickory who had big smiles on their faces
regardless of the cold, the dark, the gnats (at Hickory!) and the crush of
riders and horses at certain times. There were so many hands eager to help
that one just doesn't realize until afterwards how they really smoothed the
way and made the whole ride a terrific experience. The vets were fabulous,
super friendly,  the ride management outstanding, and the riders a great
group, one and all. My companion's crew and mine were the absolutely the
best anywhere.  

In all, the trail exceeded expectations - being both visually beautiful and
the best test anywhere for an AERC NC.

I also want to make an observations on the start --  two OD board members
(riding in the completion) saw the accident with Irving McNaughton.  His
horse had spooked sideways, and he'd fallen dead center in the road just
over a rise -- a dangerous situation to be on a pubic road in the dark.  One
rider stayed with him while the other raced back to the start to get help.
Fortunately, another OD board member was a Search and Rescue -- she was
already in her truck at the start, and came to Irving's aid.  Not only did
these two riders take precious time from the race for the needs of another,
but also John Crandell (a past OD board member), who was also riding the 50
and was in the front, turned aside to corral and capture the three horses
that raced past him running loose, taking the time necessary to tie them to
a gate so that the riders could find them. (One was Irving's horse).  All
three of these riders deserve great credit for putting the needs of others
first and foremost above that of the competition.



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