More Death Valley Encounters-Long

[Jennifer Heim <JHEIM@gunder.com>]

This is very long - I apologize.  But RideCamp is so cathartic for me,
here goes!

Let's see....how to describe the Death Valley Encounter for
me....exhilarating, inspiring, disappointment, frustration, exhaustion,
you name it.  I ran the gamut of emotions with this Encounter.  The
original game plan was do day one and plan from there.  A simple,
straight-forward plan.  If he did one day, wonderful!  If he did more,
superb!  I had no lofty aspirations of finishing all four days, this was
our first multiday and I wanted us to enjoy it.  We did enjoy it.  I
also found myself WAY out of my endurance comfort zone.  Live and learn,
and this ride was quite the learning experience.

My friend/crew, Sunman and I left the Bay Area early Friday morning and
had an uneventful trip down to Ridgecrest.  Sunman will not eat and will
barely drink while traveling so I wanted to get to Ridgecrest quickly
and get him settled in with grub and drink.  However, here was where I
learned my first lesson of the week.  I bought a electric corral to get
us thru the week.  The dream is a metal corral, but alas, this ride was
too close to Xmas for me to budget this.  I turned Sun loose in his
large electric paddock; he got zapped by the fenceline and promptly
sulked in the center of the pen.  Head to the ground sulking and refused
to eat or drink anything.  He did nibble here and there Friday night and
throughout Saturday, but nowhere near the amount of food this guy
normally eats.  He vetted in fine and I talked to the vet about his not
eating.  He said Sun looked fine to start, maybe a day's riding will get
him eating again.

The ride itself was wonderful.  Sun started well behind the pack and we
had a minimum of arguing about a pace.  Sun gets along with the desert
great - if he spooks there's nothing to spook into.  Actually, there was
little spooking, he was businesslike.  So businesslike, in fact, that I
wondered if he was ok.  After all, he didn't eat that much.  The HRM
showed he was running very well, a good strong trot and a 110 reading.
We breezed into the lunch check, pulsed immediately and we went to the
vet.  Barney, the vet, said his gut sounds were very decreased, but as
he was saying this Sun was trying to find any scrap of food he could.
He said to bring him back at the end of the hour and we'll see then.
Worked for me.  If Sun didn't eat at lunch, I wasn't going to let him go
the last 20 miles anyway.  However, Sun stuck his face in the hay trough
and probably didn't raise it again for 30 minutes.  He inhaled his bran,
scarfed carrots and apples and when Barney evaluated him again, he
smiled and said "much better.  Go have fun."  And we did.  His heart
rate after lunch was higher at the same working pace so I backed off for
the deep sand and rocks.  We finished just at dark, vetted out well and
were give the ok to start day two.

This was where my week started to go haywire.  My friend and crew
started to complain about a stomach ache after dinner and retired to
bed.  No problem.  I finished taking care of Sun, walked him a few times
and passed out myself.  Now, I'm used to waking up to an alarm at
endurance rides.  The day of the second ride I was awakened to my friend
getting sick.  Joy.  I would have preferred the alarm.  Or Marilyn
Manson for that matter.  Or maybe a good 7.0 earthquake.  I got up and
gave Sun his electrolyte dose and morning bran mash.  He sniffed at the
bran and walked away.  New hay did not entice him.  Gut sounds were
fine.  Vitals were fine.  Vet said he was ok.  But he was my
responsibility and I made the choice:  Sun would not start day two.  

This turns out to have been one of the better decisions I made that
week.  I loaded up Sun and we drove over the Slate Range to Ballarat.
As we crested the summit, we gazed out over the Panamint Range, the
mountain range the gang would be climbing that day.  My disappointment
in not starting was immediately replaced by a voice in my head singing
"Good Call!"  These were evil looking mountains.  Beautiful to gaze at,
but you admire the bravery of the teams riding day two.  Sun got all
settled in at Ballarat and to my immense and immediate joy, he started
to eat everything in sight and would grub for more.  He turned to the
water tank and drank it dry, this was followed by two more.  Lesson
learned:  Sun needs a day or two to settle in if we're going for
anything more than a 50.  Lesson #2 learned:  I should have let him stay
a couple of days in the electric paddock at home.  After a blissfully
hot shower I fell asleep to the delightful sounds of Sunny chewing hay -
the most peaceful sound in the world.  I awoke around 4:00p or so, and
wondered why the camp was so quiet.  Ok, there were the 25-mile horses,
I saw no 50's that had started the day.  When the riders did come in,
they were progressively grumpier and grumpier as they came in.  A tough
day for all involved.  As the last rider finished after 10:00pm, and I
was very glad I had made the right decision to take the day off.

Day Three dawned red, cold and beautiful.  Sun was bewildered at getting
saddled again, but he was a dream to ride; just what I was hoping a
couple of 50's would do for him.  Just a touch of contact, steering by
just the legs and weight, very much a team; it was wonderful.  He got
stronger and stronger throughout the morning until we fairly loped into
the lunch check.  I figured after loping in sand he'd take longer to
recover, but as he was drinking he recovered and kept dropping until
just 3 minutes after I loosened his cinch he was in the low 40's.
Hallelujah!  He stuffed his face, my friend holding his lead rope and
hanging off the side of the pickup (I'm very glad she picked a spot away
from most people).  Now don't think I was insisting on a sick person to
crew for me!  I asked her if she wanted me to hire a driver - she said
no, she'd drive.  I gave my crew supplies to Dave Chaton, Karen's (of
DreamWeaver fame) hubby; he very kindly offered to bring my things to
the check for me.  Karen then asked me when I was cleared to go.  She
was leaving now, but the vet noticed a slight stiffness in Weav's hind
end; Karen decided to walk the rest of the way in.  I said, sure, I'll
catch up to you and Sun and I'll keep you company.  I was in no real
rush.  We had almost seven hours to make a very easy 15 miles, I wasn't
worried about time.  I gave Sun an extra 20 minutes to eat and then left
to catch Karen.  I found her around 5 miles down the trail leading Weav.
We let the boys drink and eat at the water stop and then hand-led them
all the way down a 7-mile stretch to the highway.  No Karen, you didn't
complain (much) <g>.  Anybody worried about their horse has gripe
rights, anyway.  It was pitch black when we made it to the highway and
with a shock realized we had another 5 miles to ride down a 65-mph
highway and around 1:15 to do it in.  Steph and John Teeter caught us at
the highway crossing and the four of us jogged easily down the shoulder
to the finish.  Sun led the way, Karen behind with a glow stick on her
back to ward off traffic.  It maybe slowed traffic down to 60 mph or so.
The day capped beautifully with Sun recovering to the low 50's as he's
doing his final trot out, by the time I have his saddle off at the
trailer he's at 40.  I love this horse.  

Day Four:  My friend is now pretty sick.  I resolve to skip day four and
take her home.  However, after all the riders leave for the last day, I
notice that Sun is pretty sore on his heels from all the rocks.  Barney
evaluated him and said if I didn't have to drive him home, don't.  Good
enough for me.  My friend gave me a look that could curdle cement when I
told her that we weren't leaving until the next day.  But she's a human
and can think for herself.  Sun is my responsibility and I have to do
the thinking for two.  After all that he did for me, an extra day was
the least I could do for him.

All in all, it was a wonderful experience.  As I was heading to the café
for some much needed caffeine and carbo infusion, I asked myself to sum
up DVE.  Disappointing, I told myself.  Then the wiser side of me kicked
in and yelled "Jen!  You got to watch beautiful sunrises and sunsets
from the back of your horse!  He completed not one, but two 50's, and
you two haven't completed a ride since March!  You got a rush seeing the
camp buzzed by F-18s!  You got to spend blissful hours just you and your
boy all by yourself in a magnificent desert with all-encompassing views!
You were thrilled with his fantastic recoveries!  You got to test your
meddle in a fantastic setting and you want to do more!  You're not sore,
in fact, you're pretty thrilled you haven't taken one painkiller all
week!  Grow up, girl!"  Sometimes, I can be pretty clueless.

Let's see, some lessons learned:

Lesson #1:  Scuba gloves.  If you're going to be messing around with
freezing water, get scuba gloves and your hands won't be splitting and
chapping.

Lesson #2:  Let Sun have a full two days to get settled in if it's a
longer ride than a 50.  Put him in the electric corral at least
overnight at home before the ride.

Lesson #3:  Even in cold weather, Sun needs twice the electrolytes as
the normal horse.  I believe this doubling the dosage of electros for
this guy is what helped his recover so well at this event.

Lesson #4:  Crew should be required to bring a health certificate.

Lesson #5:  Cell phones don't work in the desert.

Lesson #6:  Don't leave the trailer halogens on for hours.  Truck almost
didn't start.

Lesson #7:  When's XP?

Thanks for letting me talk, guys.  It was truly fun, it really was!
Jen & the Sunman (560 miles!)

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