Trail Ride Adventures

                                    by Laura Crum

            After reading Linda’s post about her adventures riding the Tevis, my trail ride adventures seem pretty tame (!) But as a middle-aged mama riding with my kid, well, tame is us right now. We still have adventures—but they’re not like a horse balking in the midst of doing Cougar Rock. But for what its worth, here are some of my current trail ride mini-dramas.

The other day my son and I decided to go for a ride. Since we were in the mood to be “adventurous”, we decided to ride a trail we hadn’t ridden in six months—the swing set trail (this is a trail that plays a starring role in my 11^th mystery novel, “Going, Gone”). This trail isn’t particularly difficult overall, but all our local trails have become very overgrown and aren’t much used—perhaps because of the proliferation of big houses that don’t like horses. Nonetheless there is still wild land out there outside my front gate and we rode for two hours without seeing another human on the trails. We did see lots of other interesting things.

            First we had to get across the busy road. Have I mentioned that I hate crossing the busy road? We stood by the side of the road for many long minutes as the traffic whizzed by. Every time we saw a gap and started to cross, another car would zip into view, speeding merrily along. We must have started the poor horses forward, then stopped and backed up, maybe ten times. They are such good horses—they stood quietly and obediently, alternately stepping forward and backing up, and ignoring the noisy traffic rushing by about four feet away from them. Finally a kind motorist stopped and indicated he would wait for us. Unfortunately this is also problematic, as one must study the cars stacking up behind said motorist and be sure that none of them, unaware, decide to zip around the stopped car. Yikes.

            Finally we got across the road. Next up, pushing our way down the narrow, poison oak-draped singletrack trail that winds along the steep sidehill. Besides the poison oak and brambles, we discovered a newly tipped-over tree. Fortunately we could hop over it at the low end—which was about two feet high. But the very solid overhanging branches—the headbonker trees—are getting harder and harder to get under—every year those branches grow in girth. These trees are impossible to detour around, due to the steepness of the slope and the heavy brush. One must go under. The lowest branch whacked me hard in the shoulder. Ouch.

            Once we got over the ridge onto easier trails, I started to relax. Eventually we reached the swing set. This is an old swing set which appears to be abandoned in the woods. The ruins of a house and an abandoned car are nearby. The whole place is kind of ghostly (again, it features in “Going, Gone”), under the right circumstances. On a sunny day, not so much. Here’s the swing set. Look past the window made by Sunny’s ears. Its there. Somewhat buried in the brush.

            Not far after the swing set, we met another tipped over tree. I elected to ride under it. Poor choice. It was pretty low and whacked me in the shoulders again. Double ouch.

            The trail is kind of pretty through here in a narrow, sun dappled way. It isn’t difficult to ride, so I took photos. I never have any photos of the places where mildly exciting things happen, because I am always too busy riding and paying attention to take pictures. So here we have peaceful sun dappled woods.

            I took all these photos as my horse was walking along, so they are a little blurry, but I think they capture the feeling. Now we’re getting to the redwoods.

            After this we reached a section where the middle of the trail had become a deep ditch. The horses are used to this, and plodded reliably down the ditch until Sunny somehow slipped and scrambled for a minute, clambering up the steep sides of the ditch and generally staggering around and making me nervous. But he straightened himself out and was fine. No harm done. Henry never put a foot wrong.

            Finally we reached pavement. Here is where, in the past, we rode down a narrow, seldom-used paved road until we struck a trail that would lead us back towards home in a pleasant loop. Unfortunately, someone has recently built a big monster of a house where that trail used to be and fenced it off. So now we just turn around and go back. Sad.

            But the trail back was pretty and had different views. Isn’t it interesting how different a trail looks when you ride it in the opposite direction? It was pleasant under the redwoods.

I love the quiet sun dappled woods and the aromatic summer smell of trail dust and oak leaves mixed with sage.

 We rode without talking for the most part. Once my son said to me, “Its good to have friends to trail ride with. And it’s best when that friend is your mom.”

I was just basking in this sweetness, when my stirrup caught on the outthrust branches of a dead sapling lying beside the trail. Before I realized what was happening, the sapling (which was about eight feet long and five feet wide at the crown), became thoroughly tangled in my saddle. Ignoring/pushing through it was not an option. It was too big; I didn’t want to puncture Sunny or trip him. I wasn’t, in fact, sure how Sunny was gonna feel about having this largish dead tree attached to him.

I said, “Whoa.” Sunny stopped. He didn’t seem bothered, so I took my time and untangled us from the tree—or tried to. The tree was persistent about staying attached. Eventually I had most of its claws pried off—I asked Sunny to sidepass away from it. He complied readily despite the narrow trail bounded by thick brush. Good horse. Finally we were free. No big deal. No drama. It’s a joy to ride a solid horse.

 We had a peaceful ride the rest of the way back. I went around the one low tipped-over tree and led my horse under the lowest headbonker tree, so I didn’t get whacked again. Perhaps I’m getting a little smarter?

            Eventually we crossed the busy street and headed back up the hill to my front gate. The whole ride took us a little less than two hours and we probably covered five miles—which is a typical ride for us. Go ahead and scoff, endurance riders.

            But there were plenty of hills and the horses cracked a light sweat and puffed a little here and there. Just enough to be exercise, not enough to be hard work. Their ears were forward and they were marching out the whole way. We did some trotting up hills. Mostly we walked and looked at things. Both horses and riders had fun.

We saw two spotted fawns and three other deer that were just moving shapes bounding away. There were few other horse hoofprints in the dust, but some. No people to be seen. I noticed that the patches of wild iris along the trail, though not in bloom now, are spreading and apparently thriving. It was fun to ride a trail we hadn’t seen in awhile. The redwoods were, as always, beautiful. The temp was about 68.  Other than my sore shoulders, it was a just-right trail ride adventure.

And when we got home, I saw this.

A bobcat mama has, for the second year in a row, raised her family behind my barn. It is great fun to see the kittens, but the whole process can be hard on my chickens. Still, isn’t it worth it?

I hope you all are having a fun summer with pleasant trail ride adventures of your own. I very much enjoy reading your blogs and your comments here and hearing your stories. Cheers--L

PS--Since a couple of people have asked, the above photos are a bobcat kitten--I think about three to four months old. Here is a photo of the mama, taken last year. I have seen her often this year, but not gotten a photo. It is definitely the same cat--she is distinct in being very tall and spotted for her kind. They can be solid tan, and other variations--range in size from only slightly bigger than a domestic cat, to this gal, who is as tall as my thirty pound dog.