ridecamp@endurance.net: Chapter Two of Thumper the Quarter Horse or How we became 50 milers--by accident!

Chapter Two of Thumper the Quarter Horse or How we became 50 milers--by accident!

Joane Pappas White (lyoness@castlenet.com)
Sat, 02 Aug 1997 21:48:12 -0700

>To: TBlazer051@aol.com
>From: lyoness@castlenet.com (Joane Pappas White)
>Subject: Chapter Two of Thumper the Quarter Horse or How we became 50
milers--by accident!
>
> CHAPTER TWO OF THUMPER THE QUARTER HORSE OR HOW WE BECAME 50 MILERS--BY
> ACCIDENT!
>
>You might recall that at the end of Chapter One, I invited Thumper to
consider a 50 mile ride at Deer Springs Ranch outside of Kanab, Utah for the
Fourth of July. This "tongue-in-check" invitation was extented more to
chide Thumper for leaving me on the trail at Parowan than to actually
encourage thoughts of a longer ride. Afterall, we had not even finished a
Limited Distance ride without some noteworthy event! Doubling the distance
sounded like a good way to double the trouble so I was more than content to
stay in a nice, predicable 25 miler on my wonderful quarter horse. However,
once again Fate intervened and Thumper and I found ourselves in a new, and
to say the least, challenging adventure.
>
>The trip to the Deer Springs Ranch is a long and beautiful ride, even for
those of us who live in central Utah. The brochures we all received in
February showed a lush, green ranch in the mountains north of the redrock
desert town of Kanab located on the Utah/Arizona border. I would later have
reason to remember my husband's words as I departed--Kanab in July--are you
kidding! For those of you who have never seen this country surrounded by
Zion's National Park, Bryce Canyon National Park and the new Clinton
Staircase whatever Park (this is a sensitive issue that you don't discuss in
Rural Utah unless you are prepared to defend yourself--physically!), it is
some of the most magnificent, rugged (and hot) country in the world. This is
the realm of Butch Cassidy, Zane Grey, John Wayne--and the Deer Springs Ranch.
>
>The start of the trip was amazingly easy. I later decided that Endurance
Gremlins planned it that way to lull us into a false sense of security.
Tonda and Snowy River were only one hour late (this is very forgiveable for
a mother and wife who has a husband, two young sons and a veritable "herd"
of horses, dogs, sheep, ducks, miniature pigs and numberous miscellaneous
other members of the animal husbandry world to provide for before she leaves
for a ride). We had stumbled into the most incredible good luck on
accommodations when my cousin Karen suggested contacting her inlaws, the
Allamans, for advice and they turned out to be the ranch's nextdoor
neighbors. They loaned us their motorhome to take to Deer Springs (of
course the Ranch had great cabins of its own but we had not reserved one in
time). My metamorphosis from a City Slicker who used to joke about roughing
it at Little America, a luxury hotel in Salt Lake, to Cowgirl is not
complete enough to entertain the idea of "tenting it" just yet. So equipped
with all the latest conveniences, we settled in for a peaceful, simple 25
miler---GUESS AGAIN!
>
>The logical lawyer-side of me has struggled all week to find answers for
what happened (afterall we don't want to do it again). The former
teacher-side has searched for the lessons to be learned. But mostly my
equestrian-side has waited for the return of my sense of humor which took a
short "leave of absence" that weekend. I have decided it must be returning
tonight because my mind is mulling over appropriate titles-- Perhaps a
parody on Kippling "Out of the Valley of Death Rode the 4??"--or perhaps
newspaper headlines-- "Deer Springs Gives New Meaning to the Word
Endurance". Trust me--this is a big improvement over the epitaphs I was
writing in my mind for Thumper and me last Saturday afternoon--Here Lies
Thumper the Quarter Horse with an Identity Crisis and His Misguided Rider
Joane who Thought She Could Read Maps.
>
>Well, I am getting ahead of myself so I will start at the beginning and
hopefully spare a few novices some scary lessons.
>
>LESSON ONE: DON'T MISS THE RIDE MEETINGS--ANY OF THEM--AND RIDE MANAGERS
SET TIMES FOR THE MEETINGS SO ALL RIDERS CAN BE PRESENT.
>
>The morning dawned as bright and beautiful as any morning I can remember.
There was not a cloud in our outrageously blue Utah skies (boy, would I come
to regret that statement and that fact by the end of the day). Tonda and I
had memorized the map of our ride and familiarized ourselves with
directions. The horses were in excellent condition and we had a sound, safe
ride strategy. We had missed the 25-miler ride meeting even though we were
in camp because we were wandering around and no real time for the meeting
had been set, but we asked a lot of questions later and thought we
understood the instructions and the map.
>
>There were only four 25-milers: Tonda and Snowy; Debbie, whose horse's name
I never learned, and who worked in an emergency room (something that gave me
some comfort later in the day); Traci and Lasaad, an 11 year-old Arab
gelding, who had never been on a ride before and who had a crew which
consisted of the soon to be terrorized father Roy, husband Todd, children
Kristen and Ryan and nephew Brandon; and Thumper and me.
>
>Since there was a two day 100-miler going on, we were not the center of
attention--YET. We had never seen the maps for the 50's or heard any of the
instructions for their routes.
>
>LESSON TWO: GET ALL MAPS! KNOW POSSIBLE AREAS OF OVERLAP IN THE COURSES.
RIDE MANAGERS--USE DIFFERENT COLORED RIBBONS!
>
>The LD Teams all rode out of camp with instuctions to go down the wash and
follow the red and orange ribbons. Tonda and I immediately shifted into long
trot mode and were off--piece of cake--or as I would later say--humblepie?
We followed the map in our minds, made the sharp bend to the right about 2
miles out and were cooking. Suddenly, all the ribbons ended! This must be a
test. We immediately went into a search pattern (afterall we had been
tracking and hunting with the cowboys all winter). We found the trail a
quarter of a mile away--just as the other two riders topped the big wash.
Now we were all off--ON THE WRONG ROUTE. Who would have guessed that the
novices would track out of the area where the ribbons had been intentionally
removed! There were no other ribbons in another direction--honest!
>
>At this point we had ridden about 5 miles of our own course. It had also
been the first 5 miles of Loop Two of the prior day's 50-miler. Somehow (
we'll know more when the second day 50 maps get here), we followed ribbons
onto Loop One of the PRIOR day's 50. Strangely enough, the directions and
landmarks were close enough to keep us following the same red and orange
ribbons for a long time before any question of the accuracy of the map
developed. Everything seemed perfectly normal and matched what we had
expected--although it seemed a little more rugged than described.
>
>We rode through 15 foot wide canyons with 100 foot tall cliffs on both
sides. It was awesome and beautiful and a little cold at 8:00 a.m. Who
could have guessed that we were going BACKWARDS on the prior day's Loop One
through the high mountain deserts of Southwestern Utah with no waterwagons,
no vet checks, no checkpoints and no maps to give us information about where
we were or where we might find water. The ride was planned to end in the
deep canyons to protect the riders from the hot afternoon sun. It was
planned to start through the deep, dry riverbed washes of the desert during
the early morning when they are still relatively cool. Well the "best laid
plans" can be can be totally messed up by novices.
>
>LESSON THREE: NOVICES NEED CHECKPOINTS AND MORE INSTRUCTION. ASSUME THEY
DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!
>
>When we came out of the cool canyon, we were at the water trough, as
indicated on the map. WRONG! Traci had fallen behind and now the remaining
three of us relaxed and watered the horses. We were in high spirits--all was
well with the world. I drank about half of my 16 oz. bottle of water and
poured the rest over Thumper's neck (for this I went to college--stupid
act). Tonda followed suit. I think Debbie had more sense and saved a
little water, but afterall, we were just around the corner from the vet
check at the fishing ponds--the ones in the brochure with children in
rowboats--children swimming!
>
>LESSON FOUR: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE DEMANDS OF THIS SPORT OR THE TERRAIN
IN WHICH WE RIDE.
>
>After resting, we headed off down the path in the direction indicated on
the map. What--no ribbons again. This cannot be right. The ribbons have
to be here. It never occurred to us that the map was wrong or that we were
in the wrong area so we just went in the "correct" direction (following the
hoofprints of some lost 50 milers from the prior day) and rode about 4 miles
up a left fork on a old trail. Even when we reached the box canyon and the
impassible gate, we just laughed and headed back down. At the fork in the
trail, Debbie and I decided to check out the right fork. Tonda cut back
toward the trough looking for ribbons-- afterall this was a ride and her
strategy was to find the route and get back on it as fast as possible (that
is how she ended up alone--something we would all have in common before the
day was over). She eventually found the ribbons and headed out in a
direction entirely opposite to the one on the map.
>
>Debbie and I started up the switchbacks of a very steep and unused road to
a high ridge. You would not believe the theory we had concocted to justify
that side trip. The white sand got so deep, the both horses and riders were
having difficulty walking through it. I realized that nothing had left
tracks--not even cattle would come up here. When we hit the ridge, my heart
went into my throat. I was looking out over the most godforsaken land I had
ever seen! As a child my beloved father dragged me all over the deserts of
Southern Utah--I know how unforgiving the desert can be. When I looked over
what I would later find out was named "NO MAN'S MESA", every alarm in my
childhood system went off. This was no longer a game. This was very, very
serious. We had been out of human water for some hours. I was riding in
one of those cute and very exposed riding tops with no hat. Smart counselor,
get on the long-sleeved shirt, hat and sunscreen NOW!
>
>Debbie talked about going down the other side--are you kidding--it is 3000
feet down there and there is nothing alive in view. It looked like the
moon. We had now ridden another 3 or 4 miles and had to turn around.
>
>It was noon and I was heading back to the trough and the last red ribbon I
had seen! Enroute, I found an old pipe leading to the trough--it was
spraying from a leak and I filled my water bottle. At least it was not
hatching three generations of frogs like the trough. Even Thumper had his
doubts about the water when the polliwogs tickled his nose. As the afternoon
extended into eternity, I would be very glad I had collected that water.
>
>Every lesson the cowboys had quietly instilled in me over the last year
came to the surface that afternoon. I remembered a particularly poignant
story of their rancher father who would take his 6 and 8 year old boys into
the desert around Moab and then just disappear (at least in their minds). I
remembered the laughter of the eldest when he said that "after you quit
bawling you learn to start tracking your way out. By the time we were a
little older, we could track Dad anywhere". Funny that Tonda would also
remember that same story before the day was over. We both, separately and at
different times, started tracking back from the trough.
>
>Debbie actually saw the first ribbon that signaled the cutoff and yelled
that she thought the map was nuts! If we had ever seen the maps of the 50's,
we would have known that all their water was off the course (our map showed
all water right on the course). We could see the prints left by Tonda and
Snowy and, just at the right moment, Traci came out of the first canyon.
She had been about two hours behind us, thank God, and we saved her the 12
mile detour up the wrong road. Of course, we thought that we were now back
on the path to the vet check--a mere two hours late. WRONG AGAIN!
>
>LESSON FIVE: TAKE NOTHING FOR GRANTED AND PREPARE FOR THE WORST!
>
>Traci left for the trough and Debbie and I headed to the vet check? You
know, the one with lakes! In the middle of this desert? Where? Oh well, we
were lost for quite a while sooo--I mean how long is 19 miles (the location
of the vet check on our maps) to a novice. On we went! The sun got hotter
and the land more barren. Everytime the vegetation raised hopes that we
were entering possible areas where water could be found, the trail would
veer back toward even more desolate terrain. About 7 miles out from the
trough, Debbie decided to rest in the shade. She said she would wait for
Traci to catch up. Since Thumper's walking gait is a little slower, I kept
going, thinking that they would catch up at the vet check which HAD to be
somewhere close. WRONG!
>
>Now Thump and I were alone. Debbie was alone since Traci never caught up,
and Traci and Lasaad were also alone.
>
>Thumper sensed that something was wrong. He was all business after we
separated from Debbie. The washes got deeper and sandier and hotter.
Thumper was doing really well as he had had water several times, but my
tongue felt like it filled my whole mouth. Blocking out thoughts of ecoli
and other nasties, I rinsed my mouth out with the water I had
collected--great--just what is needed--get sick out here too! The
metallic-tasting water just made things worse.
>
>The red ribbons got harder to find (might have something to do with the
fact that the trail was intended to come from the other direction) and they
got a whole lot farther apart. After being lost, one tended to go back and
double check the trail just to be sure you had actually seen a ribbon so
even more time was lost in the hot afternoon sun. Shade was nonexistent.
>
>In these circumstances, your fears tend to surface. Mine are heights and
snakes! Riding in deep, dry riverbed washes in the desert is likely to bring
you into contact with both. The good news: even snakes are not stupid enough
to stay in a dry riverbed in the middle of the day. The bad news: all of a
sudden, Thumper and I were looking straight down a 75 foot embankment!
Normally, I would "whimp out" and walk or roll down. RIGHT, didn't you
learn that lesson at Parowan--don't turn Thumper loose or risking losing
control of his 5' roping rein! Have you ever tried to lead a 1300 lbs.
quarter horse down a vertical slope on a 5' rein--it's like being chased by
a locomotive!
>
>A week before this ride, I had gotten off Thump and jumped (on my own feet)
over a section of bad trail--almost. I was 3" short and literally fell
"flat on my face" or actually my nose. I thought I broke it--I could still
hear the cowboys say "stay on the damn horse, he has more feet than you do!"
These Lessons jumped out at me as I looked helplessly down that slope--sheer
drop would be more descriptive. Okay Thump--The tracks say the other horses
did this--Tonda and Snowy did this--I know you can do this--but can I! The
footing is good. Let's go for it. Gee Thump we can do the Man from Snowy
River thing too! Fortunately for me, I didn't know that Tonda had walked
off (she has a much longer rein and a much lighter horse) and all the other
prints were from the prior day and they went UP not DOWN!
>
>It was mid-afternoon and the whole course just baked in the desert sun.
Each time the panic level would start to escalate, a red ribbon would
appear--like some bazaar invitation into a Poe short story. Thumper was
angry at the sand and would cut every curve in the riverbed, searching for
sounder footing.
>
>Suddenly, two red ribbons appeared--going opposite directions! Sadist,
accompanied by a few stronger expletives, was the label I affixed to the
person who designed this course. My ears were ringing, literally as well as
figuratively, and I really didn't know what to do. I chose the higher of
the two routes in hopes that I could see more. As I rounded the little
hill, I saw a beautiful, lush green seep with a water trough. I really
thought I was seeing a mirage--that I had totally lost touch with reality.
It looked like the Garden of Eden. Suddenly I remembered that Eden had a
snake and that brought me back to reality fast. This garden did not have a
serpent; it had a very big black bull! At that point not even a nasty bull
was going to keep me from getting Thumper to water and that wet fresh grass.
We stayed about half an hour so Thump could eat and drink. Searching for the
beginning of the seep did not yield a drop of human water. The trough
supported life previously unknown to me and I was not comforted by the
Cowboys' past reassurances "that I could drink any water that a bug could
live in." My previously collected water left such a bad taste in my mouth
that I didn't dare swallow it but at least it didn't stare back at me like
the water in the trough.
>
>Thump and I returned to the trail since there was no protection at the seep
from the hot sun. Thump was anxious to get moving and that seemed the most
logical course of action. I refer to this part of the afternoon as the
"resigned" stage. I began to wonder what my "personal injury lawyer
friends" would say when they read of our demise. I do know that the Release
I signed would not have impressed them much. I made a mental note to
recommend a lecture on Assumption of the Risk and Releases for a future
convention--I could leave it pinned to my saddle--kind of a Last Will and
Testament. Oh my God, this must be the end--I'm telling lawyer jokes!
>
>Suddenly, Thumper picked up the pace. He went into a long trot and headed
up the riverbed. What are you doing Thump? You are running TO A
MOTORCYCLE! You were frightened by a mountain bike at Parowan and you RUN to
a motorized ATV coming right at us? Thumper delivered me to the motorcycle
where a very kind and worried man asked if I needed a drink. What an
understatement!
>
>We sent the "Angel of Mercy" in search of the other riders and headed on to
the Ranch basecamp by following the bike track. I don't remember much about
arriving at camp except walking Thumper to the water trough. Bev Gray
handed me apple juice with instructions to "get it down now"! The Ranch
owner Jay Rex and his wife were very concerned and were trying to get a
search underway for the others. Tonda had arrived earlier and alerted them
to the problem. I was very worried about the others, particularly Traci
whose family was anxiously hovering at the edge of the wash. About a hour
later, Debbie made it in and then word came that Traci and Lasaad had been
located and were all right.
>
>The horses were all checked and pronounced in excellent shape--which is
more than could be said for their riders. I do recall that as I approached
Vet Nicholson I warned him, "If any person dares say that this incredible
quarter horse has a "B" attitude, I'll punch him right in the nose". I
meant every word!
>
>A week has now passed since the Deer Springs Ride. Tonda and I have
laughed and joked about the whole experience ever since. As we were making
our plans for 1000 Lakes in two weeks, we decided that we would be the
first to register for next year's ride at Deer Springs (we would even
remember to reserve cabins!). Thumper agrees--Afterall, he never got to see
the lakes, fishing ponds and lush green meadows of Deer Springs Ranch!
>
>Joane and Thumper the Wonderful Quarter Horse "with an Attitude"
>
>
>
>Joane Pappas White
>Lyoness@Castlenet.com
>390 Madison AVe.
>Price, Utah 84501
>(801)637-0177 (office)
>(801)637-5681
>
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