My 1998 Tevis ride, inch by inch (Really, really long!)

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From: Judy Long 
Email: julong@cisco.com


I'm elated to be reporting that I had one of the Tevis "happy endings"
this year in spite of all my jitters and nerves.  We had a great ride
and I got to experience that magic moment of crossing the finish line
with a sound horse (and with only minutes to spare!).  This is an
incredibly long telling of my ride but I couldn't help myself.  I
want to re-live it and enjoy it for a long time.

We arrived at Robie Park very late Wednesday night, having waited to
avoid the incredible heat wave.  I was a little surprised to see that
there was practically no one there.  I like getting there earlier so
I can try to relax a little beforehand.  Yeah, relax, right.
I kept having intermittent attacks of nerves until the start, with
the worst being when Warpaint and I were the next in line to vet in on
Friday.  After we passed the vet-in without incident, I think I settled a 
little bit.  Warpaint did have a small crack in his hoof that appeared the 
Thursday before the ride.  It was from the bottom of the hoof up to one of 
the nail holes.  I think it was there just to torture me and give me 
something to look at 5 dozen times and fixate on.  After two shoers and a 
vet decided it was OK, I relaxed a little (NOT).

Samm Bartee's camp was next to ours so we got to visit quite a bit.  Samm
and I got to talk about Appys a bit. We also met a lot of RideCampers in 
the vet line as they went through photographing and interviewing everyone.
I drank so much water the whole time that I was sick of the stuff. The
weather was warm but had cooled considerably from the early part of the
week.  

Ride morning arrived with a wakeup time of 3:15.  I don't really wake up so
much as "come to" so I took some time getting out of bed and dressed.  I
was quite proud of myself for getting most of my cereal down without
gagging (too much).  Nick says its OK if I gag as long as I don't throw
up.  What a guy.  Nervous stomachs are the pits but at least mine has
improved somewhat.  I got outside and the crew helped me get my horse
ready to go.  We all mounted up around 4:30 and headed down the road for the
start in the dark. There was Nick, myself, Samm, and Brian Reeves all
headed for the start in the moonlit morning.  On my way down the road I tried 
to keep Warpaint travelling straight but he was doing his usual start dance 
and we ended up spinning around a few times.  Dominique Freeman greeted us 
and then warned her fellow rider rather matter of factly:  "That horse is 
crazy".  Warpaint then proceeded to demonstrate his craziness by doing a 
little bucking canter in a circle.  I have a few stock sayings about Warpaint
and one of them is "some men never change".  He's always been a lunatic at the
start of a ride and this morning wasn't terribly different.

Later on in the day I heard some tales about our crew's exit from Robie
point. Our fearless crew members Clair Dugan, Susan Dockter, Sue Riley
and Janet Berkey packed up the remainder of camp and set off to meet us
at Squaw Valley after Nick and I mounted up.  They had Janet being the 
"traffic cop" and signalling each of the three drivers when to leave. 
(There was a lot of traffic and dust in the dark).  She was supposed to
get in our truck with Sue when she  pulled out but it seems that Sue 
didn't have that same idea.  Apparently Sue went driving down the road 
with Janet chasing her in the dark!  Susan kindly picked up Janet and they 
started out on their way.  I believe they also got held up in Truckee by 
a train that didn't exist.  

In the meantime, I had found my way past the number taker and into the start
area.  I parked Warpaint in a little area next to the road where we might
be out of the way and not get kicked.  While waiting, we could hear someone
periodically yelling a countdown to the start.  "The ride starts in 15
minutes!" followed by 10 minutes, 5 minutes.  Then Potato Richardson on his
horse came walking through the crowd with his traditional cry of "the ride
is cancelled!  Everyone go back to bed".  Nice try and his offer of free 
breakfast was inviting, but everyone stayed and waited in the moonlight
for the start.

We finally took off at a walk.  It didn't seem as crowded to me as it had
the last time I started and there were many more horses this time.  Go
figure!  Warpaint jigged and danced but wasn't hopeless.  When we finally
started trotting I was able to keep him under control.  It wasn't until
later on I realized that I didn't get any blisters on my fingers and that
he hadn't tried to do the wild runaway gallop thing.  I was continually
on his mouth but he would listen (this is new!). As the sun came up we
wound our way on down to Highway 89 and Squaw Valley.  I dismounted to
cross the bridge that was covered in plywood and walked Warpaint across the
highway (I have pavement phobia).  Of course he managed to slip a little on
the pavement because he was crossing the road at a faster speed than I was
and was trying to run around me.  We made it across the road without any
more problems although I think it took a while for my pulse to come down
from that little scare.  

We trotted and walked up the road to Squaw Valley on the shoulder.  The rental
string was remarkably unperturbed by the whole thing.  I think they were
having breakfast and I'm sure that was more of a priority for their
attention than 200 plus horses trotting by.  They were probably wondering
where that bunch of fools was headed.  We all stayed on the shoulder of the
road -- I looked down at the evil bike path.  In the pre-ride meeting the
night before, Larry Suddjian had repeatedly stressed "stay off the bike
path!".  I like to think of this as the "Judy rule" since I was one of
several people that slipped on the path a couple of years ago.  I was
happy to be past it as we walked carefully through the parking lot at Squaw.
Crew members Susan, Janet, and Clair were all there and I stopped briefly
to let Warpaint drink.  I also thought this would be a good time to re-apply
the magic A & D ointment to some critical areas on my body.  So there I was
with my hand down the front of my pants at Squaw Valley, greeting a 
fellow rider from our group "Hi Norma!".  You really lose all sense of 
modesty on these rides!  Well greased, I thanked the crew, got on my horse, 
and headed up the Mountain Run.

I like this part of the ride because it's a big long hairy hill and I could
get Warpaint to settle down a little bit.  I could at least put the reins
in one hand and get a drink of water.  Or so I thought.  Warpaint thought
it would be wonderful to just gallop up the first part of the hill.  I
managed to slow him down and say hello to Lucy Chaplin Trumbull
as we started up.  As we motored up the hill I took a couple of peeks at the
heart monitor.  I usually try not to look at it during the beginning of a
ride because of the ridiculously high heart rates that Warpaint has.  He
gets into what I call the "stroke zone" because I'm scared he's going to
drop dead under me.  I think if I didn't have the monitor on him I wouldn't
be as worried -- I also wonder how much is due to adrenalin.  He seemed to
be doing OK and I had to continue holding him back until we were almost all
the way up the hill.  We walked up some of the last part of the hill so I
got to see the breathtaking views.  Not only do you see the Sierra Nevada,
but you get a great view of Lake Tahoe.  I rode part of this with the
people from Kansas so I got some of their excitement about the views as well.
They seemed like they were really enjoying themselves.  I think they liked
the patches of snow on the hill.

We headed over the top to the part I dreaded, the Granite Chief Wilderness.
This part of the ride turned out better for me than I had expected.  Warpaint
was still in a hurry and I was still on his mouth but he was listening!
I didn't crash into anyone and he didn't blast through any part of the trail.
I was actually feeling pretty good - not relaxed - but pretty good.  I also
think I didn't call him by some of the other names I use when he's being
a butt-head.  We made it through the rocks and bogs but got beaned by a
Western States trail marker on our way to Lyon Ridge.  They are made out of
something sort of springy and the rider in front of be bumped it.  It 
sprang back and goosed Warpaint into jumping sideways.  

I got to Lyon Ridge, passed the trot-by (yeah!) and saw that Nick and Samm 
were there.  We got to talk for a couple of minutes before they went on. 
They were having a good ride and so was I!  For me, the worst part was over.  
I stayed there for Warpaint to drink and to let his heart rate recover. 
The great volunteers filled up my water bottles while we waited.  I also gave 
Warpaint the first of many electrolyte doses and we headed to our next stop, 
Red Star Ridge.  I really was thinking only one point ahead at a time.  All 
my nervousness had disappeared once we got going and I felt strongly and 
positively that we would do OK.  

The views on the next part of the trail were spectacular when I remembered
to look at them.  I think the early morning light is the prettiest (not that
I'm an early riser).  It makes everything look crisp, fresh, and new.
I thought the trail looked pretty good as we headed up toward Cougar Rock.  
I knew that I was going around, not over.  I already have a
lovely photograph of Warpaint and I going over and I just didn't want to
risk it.  My decision was reinforced by watching a horse uncertainly 
trying to go over.  Once they get confused it gets kind of scary because
they are stepping forward and backward, trying to choose the way over and
the rider is trying to get them to go the way the arrows point.  The sound
of metal horseshoes on the rock is unnerving, especially when you hear the
uncertain feet.  Some of the horses go over boldly and easily, some not
as well but they all go over with a tremendous amount of heart and effort.
I was happy to go around and be on my way.

I arrived at Red Star Ridge just as Nick was leaving.  It was still good
to connect even though it was brief.  I stayed at Red Star for probably
fifteen minutes while I let Warpaint drink and waited for his pulse to
recover again.  In retrospect, I was not riding with the attention to time
that I should have been.  I probably had already spent 30 minutes total
at Lyon and Red Star ridges.  Since it was so early and we were moving
along briskly, I felt that we were doing OK.  At about 10:15 am or so
Warpaint and I headed out of Red Star Ridge and into Robinson Flat.  Easy
going for seven miles or so.

The only really eventful thing on that seven miles was seeing a vintage
Triumph motorcycle parked on the side of the trail.  I love old bikes and as 
I came around a big sweeping turn at an intersection, I saw this bike that
looked like it was late 60s/early 70s.  I probably scared the rider as
I cruised up on Warpaint because when I realized it was a Triumph I just
yelled out with "WOW!  A Triumph??! That is too cool!".  If you're not into 
bikes you just won't understand, but this was a vintage, fully restored 
Triumph dirt bike out in the middle of nowhere.  I had to ask a few 
questions about it (he had ridden Barstow to Vegas on it a looonng time ago)
and this was the first time he had the bike out since he had restored it.  
I just wish I was there when he started it up because I would have loved to 
hear it. It had a little sign on the side in fancy letters that said "SNORT".
I liked it.

Anyway, dirt bike excitement all over, we rolled into Robinson Flat just
before 11:00.  I saw familiar faces on the trail as I walked in with 
Warpaint and hooked up with my crew at the water trough.  We removed
all of Warpaint's tack and got him to our crew area to work on getting
his pulse down.  He came down but kept popping around 15/16/17 beats
and the criteria was 60.  We gave him a few minutes and then headed
over to P&R.  The way it was set up, you went straight from P&R to the
vet.  I was a little nervous because this is as far as we got last time
we attempted this ride.  The vet checked Warpaint over and looked at the
couple of wounds he got on our trip through Granite Chief.  He got a scrape
on his knee that looked superficial and he had some rubs on his heels from
the bell boots I had put on him.  Bell boots can be such a pain - I'm sure
if I didn't use them he would have had some sort of disasterous injury but
since I did use them, he got nasty rubs on his heels.  After the vet
looked him over and everything seemed OK, I sort of held my breath for the
trot out.  Sally Pringle trotted him for me and I was elated to see him
jog soundly down the lane.  Sally was the one who trotted him out when
he was pulled two years ago -- this was a much better experience!

We headed back to the crew area in a very happy mood.  I sat in a chair and
was washed and re-sunscreened (Jeannie Schrieber takes such good care of
us) while the crew took care of Warpaint.  Nick and Samm were getting 
ready to leave.  Before she left, I went over to Samm and I said "I bet you 
didn't go over Cougar Rock" and I was surprised to have her tell me "I did!".
Coujur just went right over with no trouble. I think it was a very emotional 
moment for Samm -- just talking about it got me all happy-sappy emotional.  
They headed on out down the trail and that was the last I saw of Nick 
until the next morning.

The crew had gotten Warpaint all dressed while I was eating and they had
him ready to go on time.  I never get him ready on time, I'm elated when I'm
only 5 minutes late getting out.  I don't think I ever be a competetive rider
because I can't get anywhere on time.  I got on and headed up the trail to
catch Brian Reeves.  Even before I was 100 yards out of Robinson I realized
that Warpaint didn't have his splint boots on and wavered over going back.
I caught up to Brian and he looked at how Warpaint was traveling in front.
He thought he looked fine so we kept going.  Too many boots on going in to
Robinson and not enough boots leaving!  It turned out that boots were not
an issue at all and Warpaint did just fine without them.  Every so often
during this next part of the ride I would tell Brian "maybe I should go
back and get those boots".  As you can see, you get pretty hard up for
humor in the heat and dust of midday.  

There was a new part of trail from Cavanaugh ridge that was really just
along the side of a mountain.  It was single track with deep dusty dirt and
had major drop offs on the side.  There were some unbelievable views down
into a river canyon. Part of what made them unbelievable is "I can't believe
how far down that is!!!".  I got to ride in front on this part and from what
I heard from Brian about the dust, riding in front was a very good thing.
After we got out of the dust I made a comment about my contact lenses and Brian
could not believe that I had them on.  He thought the dust would be killing
me.  I told him I never had had any problems riding with contact lenses.
Ha!  Was this tempting fate? Or merely a foreshadowing of future events?

We rode together into Dusty Corners where there was quite a crowd of riders.
We let our horses drink and waited for their pulses to recover. We ate juicy 
watermelon while the friendly volunteers refilled our water bottles.  
During Warpaint's trot back for the vet I got a little scare as the
vet leaned over to the other vet and said something that didn't sound
positive.  I must have had a terrified expression on my face, because
the vet looked back at us and said, "Oh no, not talking about you, you're OK". 
We passed the vet check!  We waited for Brian and Goofy to do the same and
we all headed down the trail.  Next stop, Deadwood!

In a short time we reached the single track trail that would take us
down to the first canyon.  I had only been on this trail once so I wasn't
sure how long it would be.  It was narrow, rocky, steep, dusty, and had
a warning sign at the top about drop-offs.  Very reassuring (NOT!).  
Brian and I dismounted and walked our horses down the canyon.  Halfway down
there was water on the trail and we probably spent about 10 minutes there
trying to get water for both horses on the narrow trail.  Thinking about it
now, I should have just kept going down to the river, especially since
Warpaint didn't seem to be that thirsty.  I started thinking about what
time it was.  I knew I wanted to let Warpaint go in the river because the
climb to Devil's Thumb was long and steep.  That would mean another 10 
minutes or so.  When Brian and I finally reached the river we realized that
we were getting close to cut off time.  Warpaint waded into the water and
looked like he was enjoying it.  He took a big drink and gave out a big
sigh.  I was giving him some electrolytes when I heard my name.  
Carolyn Schultz was crossing the swinging bridge. I knew Carolyn had been 
at least a half hour behind us at Robinson.  I was saddened to hear that 
our friend and Carolyn's riding partner Marilyn Russell had pulled at 
Robinson Flat.  I was starting to get anxious.  Brian and I went up to the 
swinging bridge and walked (or tried to walk) our horses across.  All I 
remember is half way through the dang thing was wiggling back and forth so
much that I had to grab the rail (a rope I think) and Warpaint whacked my 
foot with his while he tried to stay balanced. Brian just yelled at us to 
keep going.  It's a very disorienting feeling when the bridge gets going. 
It makes you kind of dizzy.  But it was short and we were across.  There 
was some water on the other side and a couple of riders watering their 
horses there.  We passed and then started up the long haul to Devil's Thumb.  
Now I was really thinking about cutoffs because Deadwood was almost 2 miles 
past Devil's Thumb.  

This is where Warpaint did an amazing thing.  There were no horses in front
of us and about 3 or 4 behind. He just started to power up the hill and
leave the rest of them behind.  He wasn't running, just walking, and his
heart rate was at a reasonable level.  I was amazed to see Brian and
Carolyn on switchbacks that were further and further away from us.  After
a while I couldn't hear their voices anymore.  I passed a couple of other
riders just before the top and popped up to water, volunteers, and 
cold drinks.  I never did see Devil's Thumb and I did look this time.
I stayed mounted because now I was worrying about the time.  I was having
such a good ride that I didn't want to blow it by being late.  Warpaint
drank deeply, then we went on the easy downhill to Deadwood.  I knew Brian
would catch us if he could.  I didn't want to take any chances on missing
the cut off time.  

I made it into Deadwood with about 15 minutes to spare and was greeted by
in-timers Karen Schwartz and Roberta Dunn.  It was nice to see familiar faces
and I let them know that their buddy Carolyn Schultz was just behind me.
Once again the great volunteers helped out with sponging Warpaint, refilling
water bottles, and getting me more watermelon (I never eat the stuff any
other time but it certainly hits the spot on this ride!).  Since I had pretty
much trotted from Devil's Thumb to Deadwood, it took several minutes to
get Warpaint's pulse down.  He was also very very hungry.  I walked over to
the vet who checked him out.  After our trot out and back, the vet
commented that he thought Warpaint looked tired but he might be thinking that
because he had been looking at arabs all day.  This is one of the disadvantages
of riding a non-arab.  Appies don't float, that's for sure!  We passed this
check and started out down the long canyon towards Michigan Bluff.  I started
out on foot with an armful of hay, hoping to get Warpaint to eat some of it
on our way.  Just as I was leaving, Brian was going to the vet.  He wouldn't
be too far behind on the way down.

The trail down this canyon was one I had been on before but I still couldn't
remember how long it was.  I think it was 3 miles (very long miles) down.
I knew the climb into Michigan wouldn't be as long as the one into Devil's
Thumb.  I had to get to Michigan by 7:00 pm.  I started on foot, walking
and jogging.  The trail was narrow but good and seemed to travel downhill at
a very slow rate.  We were mostly going across the side of a mountain and
it looked like the bottom was a million miles away.  Three riders caught up
to me and we finally found a spot for them to pass (this was a narrow
trail).  I decided after they passed that it would be smart to get on and
trot since most of this trail was trot-able.  It seemed to go forever and
the closer you got to the bottom, the warmer and more humid the air was.
The sun was going down and things were cooler -- this must have been a
scorcher during the middle of the day.  We finally came to some switchbacks
that headed down at a more realistic rate and I started to feel a little
less nervous.  I heard Brian and Carolyn somewhere behind me just before
I hit the bottom.  Believe it or not, I was glad there was no water available
at the bottom because we just didn't have the time to stop right now.
As we started up the other side, Warpaint stopped a few times.  At first I
couldn't figure out why because he wasn't working hard and he didn't want
to pee.  Then I realized that he was waiting for company.  He walked up the
canyon slowly until Brian, Carolyn and some other riders caught up.  Then
it was another story and he was happy to move on up.  

This is where I really started to worry.  Once again, I couldn't tell just
how far we had to go but I certainly could keep looking at my watch and
fretting over the time.  This was going to be close.  Up and up and up.
How much more?  When you look around and above you on the trail, there
are no hints that there is a community anywhere.  We really kept moving
up the hill and finally arrived at Michigan Bluff with about 5 minutes
to spare.  It was a much quieter scene than in previous years because
there were no crews there.  Once again the volunteers came to my rescue.  My
stomach was starting to feel bad and the anxiety of trying to make it up
the hill before the cutoff time kind of made it worse.  There were volunteers
helping me sponge buckets of water on Warpaint.  He had worked hard to get
up the hill and his pulse was hovering around 80 for a few minutes.  I
remember Lucy Chaplin Trumbull saying something to me here and all I could
do was look at her and say "blah blah blah blah?".  Once you get off the
horse your adrenalin really shuts off.  I really started to fade and
had a hard time responding to any question asked.  Warpaint, on the other
hand, responded to all the sponging and his pulse came down.  I walked 
over to the P&R area.  I think this is when Brian said he was going to pull. I
didn't know if I would be going on either because we had a vet check to
get through.  I got psyched out while waiting as I listened to the
vet talking to the rider in front of me.  I think her horse was a little
iffy on one foot and the vet was saying "Well, here's what we're dealing
with here.  You're really going to have to make time to get to Foresthill
before 8:30 and I don't know if you want to do that with that foot".  Then
I heard the other vet telling a rider that they would be holding hard to
the cutoff time at Foresthill.  I was so out of it I didn't even look at 
what time it was.  As I walked up to the vet and his secretaries, they looked
at me and asked if they would be doing me a favor by pulling me.  They were
joking but I probably looked pretty queasy.  I got one of the secretaries
to trot Warpaint out and the vet said "You've got plenty of horse to get
you to Foresthill".  I felt better after this, especially in light of the
conversations I had been listening to before.  I took Warpaint to get a
little bit to eat before leaving and a volunteer offered me an antacid.
This actually helped some, and so I perked up a bit and headed to the
out-timer.  Since I'm usually late, I handed her my card and said "I think
I'm probably out already".  "No!", she said, "You have 15 seconds!".  
I had to laugh, but it took me 30 seconds to tighten the girth and get back
on the horse.  I maintained my late streak.

I knew I was going to have to keep moving the whole way to Foresthill if I
was going to make it.  Once back on Warpaint I felt much better and he
felt pretty good.  He wasn't that thrilled to be traveling by himself but
was willing enough to keep going.  I knew there was one more canyon!  We
trotted everything we could trot until we came to the downhill single track
and then trotted as much of that as we could.  When we headed down that
trail and the sun disappeared, I really didn't think we were going to make it.
I wasn't going to give up until 8:30 but I knew it was going to be close.
I passed a couple of riders and another rider caught up to me.  He and I
kept moving along and caught up to Carolyn Schultz and another rider. 
Carolyn's horse had recovered before Warpaint (as does almost everyone
else's).  Now we were on the uphill climb to Bath road and I didn't want 
to hold Warpaint back walking up behind other horses.  He is a tailgater, so we
passed the two riders and kept moving.  When we came to Bath Road I believed
that we were really going to make it.  As you got closer there were many
people on the road and even some familiar faces.  Warpaint and I arrived
at 8:17.  Once again, it took a lot of sponging to get him down because
we had moved along to get in on time. They told me that they had just
send Nick out on the trail about 10 minutes before.  My crew went to work, 
stripping all the tack and sponging water on him.  I'm very grateful for 
them because by this time I was not feeling well.  I mostly felt weary and 
didn't want to talk, just wanted to sit and be quiet.  There was a long 
line for the vet, so after Warpaint got his P&R, Sue Riley stayed with us in 
line and let him eat.  Everyone kept asking me what I wanted but I had the most
difficult time responding.  I wanted to not be hungry, but I didn't want to
eat anything.  The only thing that sounded good was the little crumb donuts
from the camper and a glass of milk.  Janet ran to get them for me and I
was able to eat probably half of one mini donut.  I was able to drink the
milk, but all other food would go in my mouth, stay for a while, and get spit
out.  What a charming dinner partner I was!  When we finally got to the vet,
Sue trotted Warpaint out for me and I was pleased to see that he still 
looked good.  The vet was concerned about his gut sounds - he couldn't hear
any.  Everything else looked good, so the vet kept my card and told me to
take the horse to eat and come back 10 minutes before my out time for a 
re-check.  I wasn't terribly worried but I was still in a fog.

The crew had set up the corral panels and had everything ready for Warpaint.
They also had everything ready for me but I wasn't ready to eat anything.
I sat, drank milk, and tried to eat tortellinis.  They had all sorts of
food spread out for me and I couldn't eat any of it.  I remember Clair
looking very seriously at me and saying "You know you don't have to go on
if you don't feel well".  I knew I didn't feel that bad because I wasn't
throwing up and I didn't have a headache (Oh, 100 mile endurance rides
are fun!).  Susan listened to Warpaint's gut while he was eating and it
was making a lot of noise then.  They got him all ready in time and Sue
and Clair walked him back to the vet area.  I lost them in the dark but
managed to figure out where I was going (follow the big lights). I sent
poor Susan back to the truck to look for glow bars, but it turns out that
they weren't where I thought they were.  It turned out that I did just
as well without them (and never used my flashlight either). The
vet re-checked Warpaint and thought his gut was still very quiet.  He
seemed to be leaving it to me to decide to go on.  I was confident that 
Warpaint was OK.  The vet let us go and I put my queasy body back in the
saddle.  Just like magic I started to feel better as soon as we walked off
towards the road.  This relieved some of my concerns because I didn't
want to spend the whole night feeling like that.

There was a woman leaving at the same time so I caught up to her (she 
had glow bars!) and asked her if she would like to ride together.  She said
yes and we headed off down the main drag of Foresthill at about 9:30 pm.  
We had to cross the road twice and it was a little hairy because there 
were lots of rigs leaving.  I just had to hope that Warpaint's white butt 
would make a decent reflector.  

We picked up the trail a few blocks away with the help of some volunteers
who guided us over a nasty part of trail.  The moon was bright and we
started on the trip to Francisco's.  This part of the trail was fairly
easy to see because of the moonlight and not a lot of trees.  It wasn't
long before we passed a few riders and got into the darker parts of the
trail.  It was on one of these dark parts that I got whacked in the face
with a branch.  I couldn't believe it, but the branch took one of my
contact lenses with it.  I should have never told Brian that I was
incident-free with contacts!  I had tempted the Fates and they got me.
I am extremely near-sighted with vision of something like 20/700 and I
never do anything without contacts or glasses.  Those of you with bad vision
might be able to understand what it looked like out there in the dark.
If I looked at the moon, I saw two images.  One was sharp, small and clear
and the other was a huge fuzzy light about 10 times larger.  It was a 
disorienting experience to say the least.  It turned out to not be that 
big a problem in the dark parts because I couldn't make out anything with 
my good eye or my bad.  It was when we were in areas of light or I saw a 
glow bar on the trail that I would have to close my left eye to make out 
what it was.  Arrrrr matey, I was a pirate fer shur.  A fearless, one-eyed
leader.  

Penny (the woman I was riding with) and I kept moving down the trail at a
very steady pace.  We had to make Francisco's before 1:30 am and it was
about 17 miles.  Pretty soon we had caught up to Carolyn Schultz and Dick
Dawson, who let Warpaint and I get in front.  The four of us trotted on
in the dark as the trail went up, down, dipped, and turned.  It was 
like riding a roller coaster in the dark.  We caught up to a group of 6
that didn't want to let us pass because there were so many of them.  There
was a gray horse on the end and as we caught up to them the rider 
pointed at the horse's back end and said "this horse kicks".  I kept asking
the man if he could move over or go faster and he didn't respond.  Then
I asked (in all sincerety) "do you speak English?".  Well, he didn't 
respond to that either.  It turns out that I was behind the Japanese
gentleman and "this horse kicks" seemed to be the extent of his English
vocabulary.  And boy, did that horse kick.  Here we were miles into the 
ride and this horse would lay its ears back and fire off a back leg like 
it was a piston.  A definite leg breaker.  There was no hope of passing what
I began to refer to as "that nasty white horse".  We ended up catching
up and dropping back from this group for the next hour or so.  The group
had gotten a lot larger when we got closer to Francisco's.  Being the
anxious ones because we were in the back, we kept yelling up to the
front to keep moving.  The stop and go riding was difficult, especially with
the kicking horse being in front of me.  I'm just grateful that it was a
gray because a bay would have been nearly invisible.  There were quite a
few spots on the trail with water and there would be a wait of some
minutes because only one horse could drink at a time.  Since there was such
a train of horses on the trail, this took a while.  I remember looking
down to my left at the drop-off to the river.  The moon was shining on
the gold colored grass and I remember thinking it looked quite pretty.  It
didn't really register that we were on a single track trail next to a 
pretty steep drop off.  Sometimes DIMR is a good thing.  I think I recall
Dick Dawson telling some story about falling down to the river, another
reassuring item that I let go in one ear and out the other.  

We finally came off the single track trail and the large group went on
ahead.  We kept moving along but we walked up some of the longer hills.
Finally we could see the lights of Francisco's below us in the distance.  
It looked surreal, but very very welcome.  Most importantly, we had beat the
cut off.  The whole vet check is very well lit and fairly quiet.  It's all 
propane lanterns, no generators making any noise.   I got off Warpaint, 
got my in-time, and went to the water.  Once off the horse, I realized I 
did not feel well at all.  My stomach was queasy and I didn't want to eat 
or drink.  That was when a volunteer named Dale came to my rescue.
  
The two times that I have been to Francisco's, the volunteers have been
fantastic.  This guy Dale helped me sponge off Warpaint to get his pulse
down (we had come in at a trot), and he got a blanket for the horse's butt.
He got me some orange slices, a soda, a chair.  Since I was one-eyed and
queasy, he got someone to lead me over to the outhouse.  He took me and my
horse to the vet.  He got someone to trot out the horse.  He took us back
to the crew area and got mash and hay for Warpaint.  It was great, it was
wonderful, it was helpful and boy did I need it.  Thanks, Dale!

Francisco's is also the place where I started throwing up the first time
I did Tevis in 1993.  I thought for sure this was going to be a replay.
Well, it sort of was.  I was really nauseous when I was led over to the
outhouse.  Here's a hot tip for you all: don't go in an outhouse if you
are trying to keep from throwing up.  I realized once I was inside that
taking care of business was going to be a challenge.  As this realization
came to me, I started laughing to myself.  I was able to keep from hurling
just long enough so I could turn around and throw up down the hole.  
(Endurance riding is fun, right?).  I felt a little better and I was
still laughing when I went outside.  I gave my sage advice about nausea and
outhouses to the volunteer (who had very sweetly waited for me to come out).
While still laughing about it, I had to excuse myself to throw up again.
Suddenly, I felt great!  I went back to Dale and my horse, all happy because
I puked and felt so much better!  I think they may have thought I was a
little strange.  I drank some more of my soda, Warpaint ate some more hay,
and we got ready to go.  I had seen Carolyn as I was going to the vet and
she told me that Echo was off and that she was pulled.  Penny had managed
to keep track of me and she was ready to go.  I think Dick had gone on
ahead of us.  We went to the out timer and then to the trail.  Neither one
of our horses wanted to stop eating.  They both were reluctant at the
little trail head, but went on with a little encouragement.  We were on
our way to the river.

This part of the trail is mainly single track and the moonlight shows it
well.  It was pretty easy trotting down towards the river.  The setup
there looked very inviting - there were christmas-type lights and propane
lanterns.  It looked like they were having a little party down there.
We went down to the water and were a little puzzled about whether to go
to the left or the right of what looked like one row of glow bars across the
water.  Trilby had just gone in, but her horse had stepped in a hole and
become frightened.  We stayed at the edge of the water for a few moments as
our horses drank.  I could see the bottom of the river in the moonlight and
it didn't look too deep to me.  I wasn't quite sure about what had 
happened to the glow bars marking the channel.  I could see several of them
had drifted downstream so I wasn't sure if there had been two rows
originally or if we were to stay to the right of the one row.  We headed
across and the only problem we had is that I forgot to pick my feet up
out of the stirrups.  I didn't get too wet, just surprised.  The trail
on the other side of the river goes steeply up to a single track.  I
think this part of the trail was new, at least I hadn't been on it in 1993.
It was dark but looked fairly trot-able.  There was a rider in the back
who was familiar with the trail and said we could safely trot, so we did.
At this time Debby Lyon and Trilby were in front of Penny and I.  

I think we moved along in this section but not as fast as we did to
Francisco's.  Penny was concerned about getting in on time and I felt that
we were doing OK.  I was pretty calm about the whole time issue which is
somewhat unusual.  The normal case is for me to be late and to be stressed the
whole time I'm trying to get to my destination.  After the single track
trail we came out to a wider trail that roller coastered towards the
quarry.  Finally we could see the lights of the quarry vet check!  
The environment had changed quite dramatically since the last time I was
there.  I remember walking in to the quarry on the road, but this time we
came at it from above and turned down in to it.  Once again there were
great volunteers there who put a blanket on my horse, gave him a drink
and walked him around to keep him from stiffening up.  It was sort of
chilly at this check.  I was grateful that they kept Warpaint moving -- a
horse that came in just behind us trotted out lame in the rear end and it
looked like a cramp.  It's tough to go that far and get pulled. (Nick says
yeah, tell me about it). I don't know what time we came in but I looked at
my watch when we left and saw that it was 3:30.  I thought we had plenty
of time and would be in around 4:30.  Ha!

We headed out the wide road from the quarry to the highway crossing.  We
were jogging fairly slowly and Warpaint seemed to be fading a bit here.
I didn't think he was out of gas but I did think he was mentally tired of
travelling and wanted to stop and eat.  After you cross the highway it's a
short way along a single track and down to No Hands bridge.  I remembered
this part of the trail but as it turned out, I thought I was a lot closer
than I was.  We dismounted to walk our horses across the bridge and I
nearly fell on my face tripping over a metal bar that was the base of
the gates on the bridge.  I managed to pick up my feet to cross the bar
on the other side of the bridge.  Penny and I mounted up (rather stiffly now)
and started up the trail.  Warpaint was still in front but was really
showing very little enthusiasm.  He would jog slowly and then walk.  
We caught up to and passed Trilby again - she said she wanted to walk in.
I was starting to get concerned about time and kept looking at my watch.
It was getting later and later.  I wasn't panicked yet because Trilby was
still behind us and I have faith in her ability to finish even if it's
at the last minute.  We could see a light ahead but I knew it wasn't the
finish.  It was Robie point and I had no idea how far we were from the finish.
When you're out there, you can't see any sign of civilization except for some
lights up on a hill to your left.  I think they belong to a mine or something,
but they weren't where we were headed.  We went downhill, we went uphill, I
looked at my watch -- 4:45!!  I was anxious!  Warpaint started to pick up
speed and we were zipping on dark trails with no idea of where we were.
Suddenly there was a horse and rider in front of me.  It was the nasty
white horse and the Japanese gentleman!  We were all speeding on the trail
and I thought I heard voices.  I thought I saw a light!  It was the end,
I knew it!  Suddenly the white horse stops at the last turn to take a drink!
I wanted to get by but I didn't want to get kicked here.  I started to go
by and the white horse started to go.  I just yelled at the rider "GO! GO!".
Luckily, he went!  

As we came up the last little rise into the lights and the crowd (yes there
was still a crowd!), I started getting teary.  We made it!  It was 4:49!
I could hear Nick and Brian and the relief in Nick's voice.  I stopped
crying because I had to start smiling!  

As I got off, Nick threw a blanket on Warpaint and took him to get a drink.
I nearly had a heart attack as I realized he was walking Warpaint behind the
nasty white horse, but he made it past without an incident.  It was rather
chilly at the finish and I thought I saw Warpaint take a short step in the
rear.  I started to panic because I knew we had to get his heart rate down
but I didn't want him to stand still.  We took him over to the vet area
and Jamie Kerr checked him over.  I told Jamie to not make it a husband/wife
thing and pull me at the finish  (Jamie is the one who had to pull Nick at 
the finish last year).  Warpaint trotted out sound!  Now, off we went to the 
stadium for the final vet check.  They checked him out and Nick trotted him 
(after we managed to untangle the blanket straps from his tail).  Sound 
again!  I declined to take a victory lap as I did NOT feel like getting back
on and I thought a victory crawl would be too humiliating.

It was over and we had done it, or more accurately Warpaint had done it and
taken me along for the ride.  I was amazed at him, at how strong he was and 
how willing to go he was all day.  It had been 5 years since Warpaint had 
completed a 100 mile ride.  Between then and now had been a colic surgery for
enteroliths, a quarter crack, a stifle injury, the hock injury from the bike 
path slip, and last year's splint.  Our great crew (Clair Dugan, Susan 
Dockter, Janet Berkey, Sue Riley, and Jean Schrieber) were all together at 
the stadium to share the moment and my happiness along with their success in 
getting us through.  Shatta greeted Warpaint and the two of them chowed 
down. It's hard for me to put in words the feelings that I had but I'm sure 
that a lot of you have a similar moments when you felt such a bond with
your horse.  We had passed our test and now we could eat and rest.   

My Tevis ride this year turned out to be everything I had wished for.  I
had finished the ride with a sound horse that was fit to continue.  I
don't know what odds I would have given us on that  before the ride. After
getting over my serious case of nerves before the start, Warpaint and I
attacked the trail a step at a time.  We travelled in synch over that
wonderful, beautiful, wicked, long, tough trail.  Some times the trail wins.
This time we won.  


Judy Long and Nachi Sunshine (Warpaint)
2 for 3 at Tevis
1993, 1998
To finish is to win!