But summer brings the twin terrors of heat index and biting flies and that, my friends, is even more unpleasant than the long dark slog between early November and serious snow.
Tuck and I have been talking it easy since we scratched from the horse trial -- and then the horse trial ended up having to cancel stadium on account of a jump field too wet to mow. If I'd known they were going to have to run as a dressage-and-XC combined test, I would have stayed entered at Training! Oh, well. They didn't know it, either. Poor submerged Vermont.
We've done a little flatwork noodling and some bareback jumping that went more smoothly than I'd expected given how long it's been! I kept the fences small and the turns generous -- the fences have never been the problem, but I've come close to sliding off sideways on a rollback during previous bareback jumping adventures -- and Tucker was a good egg.
Trail riding, meanwhile, has been planned like a military campaign for maximum avoidance of flies! Picked up on Thursday and did two hours around the park and property, keeping it slow and easy on account of the heat and also because -- Tuck was cheerful and willing and sound, but he felt down a gear and the rhythm was not fantastic, neither of which is unusual when he's had a few days off, but I was disinclined to push.
On Friday we hauled out to a local state park and spent six-plus hours in the woods. In the interests of honesty, I have to confess: I got lost. Like, really lost.
The worst part was that I knew where we were. I could look at the map and say, "Okay, this terrain feature is here, and the park boundary line is there, and we're coming from this spot and need to go towards the other." But the speed with which we'd lost the trail was stunning and the forest was dense dense dense and there was just no finding it again. Look: I am not an outdoorsy rockstar, right? But I have hiked a lot. I have backpacked. I have done Outward Bound and have some admittedly ancient map-and-compass training under my belt. I have gotten myself a bit lost and then unlost again countless times, no problems at all. I have never been lost like this in my life.
Actually the worst part is that I know better. I know better than to take someone's word re: a trail, no matter how good said trail looks from where we're standing as we discuss it, and I know better than to try to follow a suspect trail as it peters out instead of turning around and following it back to where I began. I also know better than to panic and keep moving even a little once I realize that I'm lost instead of stopping for a rest, a drink, a snack, and a chance for my brain to come back on line. I am not a rockstar, but I know better and it was striking and scary and now in retrospect educational how easy it was to make stupid decisions even while actively knowing better.
So I did some things wrong. And then I did some things right and I did get to reap the benefit of having done other things right when setting out, and we ended up back at the trailer significantly humbled (or maybe that's just me; Tucker was ready to go around again) but none the worse for wear aside from the damage to my wallet after I spent time on REI.com upgrading my survival kit. It's all gear that I've been meaning to assemble for a car kit One Of These Days, anyway, so no worries. It will live in my car along with my first aid kit and some big ziplocks, and when I am out and about, just like the first aid kit, the relevant contents will make their way into the ziplocks and then into my backpack and hopefully the result will be that I resent carting around few extra ounces and never need to use any of it.
Tucker had Saturday off; I went out to check on him and then took the young dog for a walk around the farm before it got too hot. I hopped on bareback on Sunday and we had a lovely relaxed 90min amble around the park complete with swimming-hole time. Still no actual swimming, mostly because I am a chicken, but he waded base-of-neck deep and my feet got wet even pulled up and back. That's progress! He felt super -- very keen and moving great.
In process of tweaking our set-up for the 25/25. Swapped out the hydration bladder for a couple of cyclist's water bottles that I'm liking much better than the bottles that came with the saddlepacks. Been experimenting with the connection between cantle pack and billet straps and think I've found an angle that keeps the bag up off Tucker's back. We're also test-driving a Toklat Coolback half-pad with inserts in hopes of better-protecting his back without adding thickness under our well-fitting saddle -- which means we're currently running the half-pad as the only pad; a bit unorthodox but if it works I am fine with it until/unless I locate a workable liner; a regular square pad would be too thick and I dislike baby pads -- and the one we're using is just a little bit longer than necessary for the saddle, which means the cantle pack can sit atop of that. So I hope it works out!
Meanwhile, I have suffered my first injury as a result of the big Dover Saddlery in the former State Line barn now being my local tack shop. I was this close to escaping with only the items I'd intended to buy when I walked past this magnificent skull-and-crossbones saddle pad...
The eyes are hearts, you guys. This, I cannot condone.
Clearly it had to come home with me before anyone else could be trapped.
I want that saddle pad!
ReplyDeleteThat is a cool pad, and I'm not even that into skulls! Glad you got un-lost, that would make me panic.
ReplyDelete