Fell Off At Cougar Rock

[DVeritas@aol.com]

     (DISCLAIMER:  I write this and provide it for those with an interest in 
surviving this sport.  Flames, fingerpointing and lectures are okay, too, but 
are not necessary.  The lessons I learned from the following experience are 
much better teachers than anything anyone sitting in the comfort of their own 
home could pontificate.             
    Everything was ready, we had arrived ready...my horse, me, etc.
    Then we fell over backwards at Cougar Rock.
     I had just witnessed LuLu (Frank Smith's mule) slip and fall to her 
belly and resolved to go around the rock this year.
    Then the horse ahead (shod all around in Easy Boots) of me made it and I 
changed my mind.
    Typically, I listen to my  intuition....
    Ranger was taking his final step over the rock when his back right foot 
slipped (shod in iron).
     Then, he moved both back feet up under his girth area and we lost our 
center and started over backwards.
     I turned my head to my right and saw nothing below but Cougar Rock and 
at the base (some twenty feet below or so) bushes.
   (I had forgotten to load my helmet, had it in my hand, phone rang, set it 
down, finished the call, walked to the truck and headed to Tevis.)
    I thought of that as I dove (headfirst) for the bushes.
    I didn't make it, but managed to deflect some of the concussion with my 
hands, arms, hip and legs.  My face just grazed the rock as I deflected down 
into the shrubs.
    I got up immediately, nauseated and looking for Ranger, afraid of what 
I'd see.
    He had landed on his right side, head on the downhill side of the rock 
and appeared to not be moving, eyes closed, breathing shallow.
    People sprang from the crevices and went to him.
    I asked them to stay away from him and made my way to him.
    I tasted my own blood and felt my body began to swell.
    Climbing up the rock, I felt my right hand and noted my ring finger was 
pointed in the wrong direction.  Not wanting to, I put it back into place.
     Reaching Ranger, I touched him and said his name through the choke in my 
throat.  He didn't respond.   I touched the cinch strap to loosen the girth 
and his eyes opened and he jumped to his feet.
    Then, he fell the balance of the way down, scrambling headfirst, fighting 
for purchase.
    A young man grabbed the reins and led him out of the shrubs and he walked 
him gingerly around the rock and up to the trail where I would meet them.
    A nurse at the rock, washed my wounds (which were numerous), pulled 
pieces of wood from both my hands (puncture wounds are so nasty) and Ranger 
stood, his breathing getting normal.  His pulse was 88. We checked him over 
very carefully.
    He had lost five or six patches of hide the size of quarters, but 
suffered no other visible wounds.
    I thanked everyone and started walking up the trail, while some 
photographer remarked loud enough for me to hear that "I've taken pictures 
here for the last five years and that was the worst crash I've ever seen."
    I bit my lip, still feeling my own blood run down my throat.
    We walked like this for a while, then I decided to mount him.  I did, but 
as I did my right ring finger got dislocated again.  Again, I put it back 
where it was supposed to be.
     Needing more time to assess the condition of my horse as well as myself 
we walked a while longer, then Ranger, hearing a horse coming up behind us, 
eased into a trot and he was SOUND!
     More than that, he was eager to get moving.
    The nausea had all but left me and we worked to Robinson Flat, arriving 
forty-five minutes before the cutoff.
    Ray Randall vetted the horse and witnessed the trot-out and gave him 
mostly A's and B's.  Then I asked him to look at Ranger more closely please, 
cause we had tumbled down Cougar Rock.  Now noting the torn and bloody 
garments I wore, Ray did a thorough exam of Ranger and said that we were 
lucky.  (It was more than that, in my opinion, I felt the hand of God in all 
this.)
    I went to the treatment vet and taped up my fingers while the family 
Pruss and Lynn's mother Lauri took care of Ranger.
    Long story shorter, we were up against the clock from there on out, as 
well as some other things that seem to always rear their ugly little heads 
during a ride of this nature and we had to HUSTLE through Deadwood Canyon and 
the canyon before Michigan Bluff.  When one tails an Arabian gelding of 
Ranger's size (over 16.0hh) out of a canyon, you will find yourself flying 
and we did.  
    But, my mistakes of the day reached a terminal state at Michigan Bluff.  
He reached criteria okay, but his CRI was less than impressive, and he was 
tired, needing more time to eat and drink and we were pulled.
    Mistakes?  Yeah, several, but the biggest was not going around the rock.  
That changed the nature of our ride and we never recovered from it.
    Perhaps next year I will be rider equal to my mount.  I pray it will be 
so and will work harder at it.
    We trailered back to Nebraska, which he handled with ease and now is in 
his pasture awaiting the next time I approach with the halter.
    I love Ranger and it sickens me that I was capable of making such a 
stupid decision (riding over the Rock).  Not for loss of the buckle, but for 
the potential loss of an irreplaceable member of my family and large piece of 
my soul.
    
     Regards,
         Frank.
    PS:  My crew at ForestHill had been informed that we had been hurt at 
Cougar Rock and would be medivac'd out.  (I never found out who informed them 
of that.)  They were besides themselves, then they saw our number clear 
Robinson Flat, then Pacific Slab, then Deadwood,.....their day must have been 
hell.  Glad mine wasn't...I got to ride. :^)
    Ranger has not evinced any ill-effect from the fall and I only suffered 
one fractured finger and am covered in road rash that will heal. MY HELMET IS 
IN MY TRAILER NOW AND WILL BE THERE AVAILABLE FOR ALL RIDES, TRAINING OR 
OTHERWISE.