Jersey Devil 2024

After Hector, my ride season came to an abrupt halt. We missed Chautauqua. After that, I set my sights on Mustang. Originally, I was planning to take Lucy and do her first LD. I was going to ride with Sam on Puma. Then Mustang got cancelled. We regrouped and planned for Jersey Devil. The plan was to ride Lucy in the 25 with Sam. Then Sam mentioned that she wanted to do the two day 50. It would be her first multi day. I decided to enter Lucy in back to back 25's. This way, if she completed one day and not the second, the miles from day one would still count. It would be more expensive, but since I ride pass fail, I was all for it. 

After the Essex hunter pace, I had my doubts about Lucy being able to do both days. Booger, meanwhile, was still rip roaring fit. I had no doubt she could do 50 miles in two days. It would be our first multi-day as well. In the end, I decided to enter Booger in both 25's. My train of thought was to ride the first day and see how it went. If I wasn't having a good time, I didn't have to start the second day. I was interested to see if she'd be quieter on the second day. I keep telling myself "no more sand rides for Booger" because she treats them like really long race track. But I had such a good time riding with Sam last year. I figured it was worth a try.

It turns out, Booger wasn't the problem that weekend. 

I seriously love this mare so much.

Jersey Devil 25

 One year to the day after Booger's first CTR, we went back to where it all began, finishing the season at the Jersey Devil. 

This was the moment she spotted Mike waiting for us at the in timer.

Booger's First CTR

This photo says it all. 

A Return to Distance Riding

This year, I took an accidental hiatus from distance riding. It wasn't something I planned. It just sort of happened. Life got in the way, not just for me but for many of the people I ride for or with. This is the first year since I joined AERC in 2008 that I haven't done a single endurance ride. I've missed endurance, and especially the community, but I was able to fill the time and sort of push it to the back of my mind.

My last AERC completion was in August of 2017 when I did an unplanned LD on Hombre in Maine. My last attempt at a 50 was in April of last year at No Frills. That's over a year and a half, and that is mind boggling to me.

Despite not riding this year, I still went to Biltmore, Old Dominion, and Mustang (which I still haven't blogged about) this year. I was supposed to ride at a handful of rides this year, but they all fell through for one reason or another.

I was also supposed to crew at a bunch of other rides (including WEG... can you imagine how fun that blog post would have been?!?), but decided that if I'm not riding, I need to put that on the back burner too, and devote that time to things that benefit Mike and me (like our vacation and all the hikes we did this year). As I mentioned in my 25 Questions post, balance is something I'm always working on. Balancing an active endurance season with the rest of life can be a challenge. In the past few years, endurance has really ruled our schedule (which I love) but this year was a nice change of pace despite the fact that I miss my sport.

Luckily, my endurance friendships are strong (seriously, I've met some of the best and most important people in my life through distance riding) and it appears that the dry spell may be coming to an end.

Jersey Devil 2014

I suppose I should talk about what happened at the Jersey Devil. Or rather, what didn't happen. *sigh*

After our successful 50 at Big Loop Boogie, Steel and I were lined up to do the Mustang Memorial this coming weekend. The Mustang is my annual 'birthday ride'. It's local and well-run and was both Ozzy's first endurance ride and his last fifty. Last year was the first year that Mustang was FEI, and I rode Diesel to a tie for first place, which was epic. I have never ridden like that in my life and it was a rush. I was looking forward to going back to Mustang this year, albeit at a more sedate pace.

After the Illinois ride, I took a month off of competing to treat Ozzy for his EPM. The treatment was daily for 28 consecutive days, and I didn't trust anyone but myself or Mike to do it. Silly, perhaps, but that's the way it was. I didn't go to Chesapeake. I didn't go to Shut Up and Ride. I also didn't go to Fort Valley, but that was for different reasons.

At the beginning of October, I talked to Dodie about our Mustang plans. She mentioned that she was taking Daisy to the Jersey Devil (which happens to be the last ride Ozzy and I ever did). She didn't have a rider for Steel, however, and the mare would be coming off a two month break to compete at Mustang. It's a long story, but they all  missed Ride for the Ribbons (which I was the photographer for, but more on that later). Steel was still in regular conditioning, but she hadn't done a competition since Big Loop.

On a whim, I volunteered to ride Steel at Jersey Devil. I'd been itching to get back to distance riding after my hiatus, and I do adore Steel. Plus, I'd been dying to ride with Dodie again. We have such a grand time together, and it's nothing if not totally fun.

It was settled. Dodie would ship the horses down on Sunday morning and we would ride the 25 together, treating it as a last conditioning for Mustang.

Sandy and I briefly contemplated taking Lilly and Mickey down to do the 10 mile CDR on Saturday, then staying to party all night before I rode a second day on Sunday, but that didn't pan out. Neither horse was really fit enough physically or mentally to be competitive. That was ok by us, and we had agreed that we wouldn't mind walking the whole ten miles and losing a ton  of points for being over time. But when we threw in Lilly's feet, transportation logistics, and all the vet bills we've both been dealing with lately, we decided to throw in the towel on that plan.

Instead, I would give my regular lessons on Friday and Saturday, sleep in my own warm, cozy bed on Saturday night, and drive down bright and early on Sunday with Mike to meet Dodie and the horses in camp for vetting.

It turns out that plan wasn't meant to be either. We were coming down to the wire on the Devil and nothing seemed to be going according to plan.

It rained and rained and rained the week leading up to the ride. As a result, Mike was asked to come into work on Sunday. Being the sweetheart he is, he offered to tell his boss he couldn't do it, but I told him not to worry about it. The Devil is a CTR, which means no crews are allowed. Yes, I love that he takes photos of me on my adventures, but I could bring the point and shoot and make do. I've ridden these trails a million times and I was sure the group of us would end up taking pictures of each other regardless of whether we had our stellar photographer with us or not. Besides, Mike's boss has been amazing all year about letting us go all over the country, often with little notice. I could survive at trip all the way in south Jersey by myself. I would be needing Mike for the Mustang way more than at the Devil. I told him not to worry about it and sent him off to work.

The Friday before the ride, I suddenly started to panic. I couldn't 100% remember whether I was riding Saturday or Sunday and I started to second guess myself. I dug through my emails and Facebook messages, but couldn't find an answer either way. I messaged Dodie in a tizzy on Facebook, but she didn't reply until after I'd gone to bed.

Grinning, mid-rant.

As it turns out, Dodie wasn't going to be making it to the Devil either! She had been battling some crazy death flu and still wasn't healthy enough to ride. She had messaged me on Facebook about it, but I didn't get to the messages in any sort of a timely fashion. If I had, I would have told her not to worry about it and we all would have stayed home, relaxing. By the time I finally got to the messages, however, Dodie had already arranged to send Steel ahead with Cindy. (Thank you, Dodie, for bending over backwards to get the horse to the ride for me, and thank you thank you thank you, Cindy, for going out of your way to get her AND taking care of her AND everything else that weekend.) With all that heart-warming effort from everyone, I couldn't back out. Still, I had a sinking feeling about the weekend.

No lucky charm Mike. No fun-filled, cheery, sunshine Dodie. No Daisy the Incredible. *gulp* I was just hoping I'd at least get to ride with someone I knew. From the looks of everyone's posts on Facebook, everyone I know had been there on Saturday and was already done riding.

So I gave my lessons, went home, and tried to go to bed early. I didn't sleep a wink that night. I had every sort of nightmare imaginable. Dying in a car crash on the way to the ride. Getting lost on trail. Getting dead on trail. Steel being bad. Me being lame. Not having the right address for ride camp. I tossed and turned and worried, which is very unlike me. I get excited coming up to rides, but I don't get jittery or nervous. What the heck?

I was up at 4am and out the door by five. The drive was just under two hours, but I know the route well. Down 206 to the Red Lion circle, along 70 to mile marker 32.5, right into the cranberry bogs, and follow the hoof prints to the gun club.

The drive was uneventful, though I was surprised at the number of cars on the road before dawn on a Sunday. I arrived safely in camp (no fiery crashes to be seen) and found Cindy's rig parked right where she told me it would be. (Thank you Cindy for your excellent in-camp directions.)

Steel in her pen. Photo by Cheryl.

I got out of the car and greeted Cindy with a grin.
"You can have your mare now. I'm done with her," she scowled. She was half-joking, I think. Ok. Maybe not.
"O no, what happened?"
"I don't even know how you put up with her..." Cindy hissed. Uh oh.

It turns out it had been an eventful night in camp. Another horse had gotten loose around 1am. He took down the pen that Steel and Cindy's horse, Bailey, were sleeping in. Thankfully, Bailey is a good boy and didn't go very far. Also thankfully, Steel didn't want to leave her buddy. Cindy was able to grab both of our horses within a few minutes, but she wasn't taking any more chances. She, very wisely, tied both horses to the trailer for safe keeping.

Unfortunately, Steel is not great about tying to the trailer. It must bring back some sort of horrible memories from her former show horse life. As you may remember, she flipped herself over while tied to the trailer at Cheshire this past spring, and she hit her head so hard that I was convinced she wasn't getting up. She sort of has a history with trailer tying. Now, I will say that she has come a long way since then. Nonetheless, she spent the whole night weaving on her tie. When I arrived in the morning, she was standing in a two-foot-deep rut that she had paced into the sand.

Not a good sign.

"I hope you didn't wear yourself out before we even started," I muttered, untying her and rubbing her face.

Steel did seem happy to see me, and she settled down quickly as I walked her around camp.

"You're here awfully early..."

I went up to the gun club to sign in, and found out that there were even more complications to be had before the ride even started. There was no record of my entry. (!!!) I had received a confirmation email and a ride information packet, as well as directions to the ride, so I was stunned to hear this. Ride management handled this snafu very well, for which I am grateful. Since Dodie had pulled her entry, they were able to simply swap my name into her place and give me her ride number. They were also kind enough to transfer her unused entry fee to my name, and lower my outstanding balance, which was over-the-top lovely of them.

After what felt like a decade and a half, I finally got my paperwork done and went back outside, where Cindy was very patiently holding my antsy little gray horse. I thanked her for the millionth time, and took hold of Steel to go for the vetting.

I had been warned that the vet at this ride was being extra hard on everyone. I recognized her from some other events. She's new to the sport, and seems to generate a lot of complaints from participants. She also can't seem to judge soundness on gaited horses, which is a very frustrating attribute to have within the distance riding crowd. Still, good ride vets are hard to find, and it's so important to be grateful for the ones we have. It's also important to welcome any vet who is willing to give vet judging a go. Seriously, we were lucky to have a vet at all on the weekend of Fort Valley in Virginia (the third jewel of the east coast triple crown, and where my Endurance Trifecta cohorts were partying it up without me that weekend).

I will say vetting went much more smoothly than it had last year. We were in line for less than three hours, which was a big improvement on its own.

Seriously, though, Steel and I vetted right through. Perhaps my favorite part about this mare is that she makes me look like I'm capable of trotting circles. Steel stood quietly while the vet poked and prodded her. Her pulse was low, her gut sounds were good, and she wasn't sore anywhere. The vet noted the scuff on her forehead and some old marks on her legs, and I was pleased to see that her interference wounds have closed up entirely.

I already knew the answer, but I asked if I could use bell boots at CTR. No go. Damn. I wasn't sure were the line between leg protection (not allowed) and hoofware (ok in some circumstances) was, and it didn't hurt to ask.

We trotted down, circled left and right, trotted back, and completed our vetting. I thanked the vet judge and went back to the trailer with my mare in tow.

The ride briefing had been delayed while all the horses went through, and I was happy to see that Kara had pushed back the start times accordingly. We would be going out in the first group, at 9 o'clock on the dot. Good. I might even be awake by then.

Meanwhile, I joked with Kara about my ride entry mix up.
"I hope I didn't screw up your whole system!" I laughed. "I seem to wreak havoc everywhere I go."
"What ride number are you?" she asked.
"Eleven."
"Good. Then I don't care about your name, your face, or what horse you're riding. As long as you have a number, we're good." We had a giggle and moved on to the subject of ride t-shirts (they had a great design this year). "So do we get one for completion or do we have to buy them?"
"I don't know. Did you bring the boyfriend?"
"Sadly, no. He had to work."
"Well then, I have to charge you."
"It's funny you say that," I told her. "I told him you'd miss having him help around camp, and he wasn't sure you knew who he was. I told him you probably only know me because I'm with him!"
"Pretty much!!"

Mike, boosting my name in the endurance world since 2011. Hahaha.

The ride briefing was short, informative, and to the point. After they explained trail markers (orange stakes with arrows at turns), someone asked, "How will we know the difference between the ten mile loop and the fifteen mile loop?"
"You can't get lost at this ride," I chimed in. The markers NJTRA uses should be the new AERC standard."
Seriously. If there's one thing NJ does best, it's marking trails. I'm sure it helps that they're all flat sand roads that are easily accessible by vehicle (trucks on the main stretches and dirt bikes on the side trails).

From there, we went to the trailer to tack up. I ride Steel in my saddle with Dodie's pad, girth, breast collar, and bridle. I briefly debated just riding her in her rope halter. Unfortunately, the girth that was sitting on top of the saddle at Dodie's was a dressage girth, and my saddle is an AP. For a second, I was worried I wouldn't have a girth to ride in! Thankfully, Cindy came to the rescue once again, and offered me her brand new fleece girth, which happened to be sitting in her trailer. It was a little loose on Steel, but I was able to get it snug enough for me to mount safely, and that's really all I need.

Before I knew it, we were mounted up and ready to start. Ben was doing the timing and we chatted amicably while we waited for 9am to roll around. It turned out Cindy and I would not only be riding together (hooray!) but we would be riding with Cheryl (double hooray!) Cheryl and I haven't ridden together since Cheshire and I was excited to see her TWH, Crash, in action.

At nine o'clock, we were given the go-ahead and we were off. Crash and Bailey went up the powerlines like bats out of hell, and I held Steel back. She is not fussy about being left behind and I was determined to ride this ride at our own pace. For a moment, it seemed like we would be riding the day alone, but I caught back up to Cindy and Cheryl at the lake-side water stop.

Even when it doesn't go well, distance riding is my happy place.

After that, the footing was much better, and we were all riding at about the same speed.

The first fifteen miles flew by, partly because I know the trails, and partly because I was in great company. We laughed and gabbed and ranted. We talked about Mike and the story behind Crash's name and the drama that went down at the Ribbons ride.

We trotted along for most of the loop, but there were a few places where we could really move out, including the long stretch next to the railroad tracks, where we saw a big raccoon ambling along the trail. At one point, we reached a particularly broad stretch of access road and we let the horses go.

We were shouting back and forth  about the ability to gallop on a loose rein, and I waved my arms like a bird and shouted, "Like this? Look, ma, no hands!!!"  Steel, being the good girl she is, didn't change stride for a minute.

"Dom, you're a nut," Cheryl laughed.

At one point, we came galloping past a spotter, and shouted our numbers as we flew by.
"Wait!" the woman shouted after us. "I have candy!!"

Steel and I almost did a roll back.

Sweet girl.

"Note to self," Cindy giggled, "Dom only stops for candy!"

Seriously, though, we had a great time. The horses were moving out beautifully and we were eating up ground on the flat, sandy terrain. The only technical part of the ride was the dirt bike moguls in the woods, and Steel figured those out in the blink of an eye. She rode over them with more grace and coordination than any horse I've ever sat on. I was thoroughly impressed.

Cheryl was keeping an eye on her GPS and informed us that we were averaging 8mph when we weren't galloping. Our game plan at that point was to let the horses keep moving on the first loop, then go really slow and steady on the second loop so the horses would be fresh and rested at the finish.

The trails, as usual, were beautiful. There was enough variety in the sand and pine trees to keep things interesting, and riding the narrow paths between cranberry bogs never gets old. There was just enough fall color to be festive, but the pines threw in splashes of green. As always, there was plenty of water on trail, but there weren't huge puddles that required us to stop frequently, as there have been in years past.

We also had a lovely time at the five mile to go water stop at Elsie's farm. They had beautiful, sparkling clean troughs out for the horses, and when none of them seemed terribly interested in drinking, they floated apples in the water. Bailey was a pro at bobbing for apples! I really got a kick out of it. Steel, of course, doesn't eat apples and couldn't be bothered to fall for the silly human tricks.

With that said, Steel was taking better care of herself on that first loop than I've ever seen her do. She drank deeply at the water troughs, and even stopped to slurp out of a few puddles, something which is unheard of in her world! She was also eager to munch grass on the few occasions we saw it, and when we got back to the hold, she was ready to eat her food and everyone else's.

We came into the hold going strong. Steel felt great, and with plenty of sass left. I was grinning from ear to ear and having a good time.

We waited the requisite ten minutes before going to pulse down and vet. Steel was at 52bpm despite being very excited about her buddy leaving her. Her respiration was slow and steady. The vet ran her hands over her and there wasn't an ounce of soreness. We could hear her guts without a stethoscope.

I had heard Steel forging out on trail, and had given up monitoring it after several miles. No matter how fast or slow we went, the clack clack  clack of hoof against shoe echoed beneath us every few strides. I was scared to death to see the damage she'd done to herself, and was hoping she wasn't interfering badly enough to cost herself the Mustang in two weeks.  I was delighted when I dismounted to find Steel standing happily without a mark on her! This was the first time we'd ever gone a loop without at least a rub. Things were looking good!

And then I trotted down and back, and when I got back, the vet was shaking her head.

"Your horse looks worse than she did this morning," she told me. "I cannot let her continue."
I was in shock. "What? She's lame?" I glanced at Cindy, whose brow was furrowed. They offered to have someone else jog her down and back so I could see for myself.

Sure enough, there was a visible head bob. She was off in her right front. My heart sank.

The vet was ready to defend herself, but I put her mind at ease, "I wouldn't ask her to go another step, even if you were willing to let me continue. We have a fifty in two weeks. Or not," I frowned. The vet seemed grateful that I wasn't putting up a fight. Getting pulled sucks, but it's part of the sport.

To be honest, though, I was ready to cry. I have never been pulled on any horse but Ozzy. Prior to the Devil I had only ever been pulled twice. Never on a catch ride. Never at a non-AERC event. And not in three and a half years. I was taking it pretty personally.

I texted Mike, and he thought I was messing with him.

I let Steel hang out in the hold with Bailey. She ate, drank, and looked like a million bucks. When Crash and Bailey went out without her, she looked confused and upset. I hand walked her around camp while she settled down, and while I gathered my thoughts. I was seriously, seriously bummed.

Eventually, I took Steel back up to the vet in between competing riders. The initial vetting hadn't revealed any cause for the lameness, and I wanted her to take a closer look before I contacted Dodie. Sure enough, her right front tendon was starting to swell. There was no heat, but it was definitely puffy. There was also some asymmetry in her shoulders, and she seemed a bit tender in the right one, which she hadn't been when we first got pulled.

The vet's advice was to ice the leg and give her some bute, but I opted not to do either. I wanted to make sure Dodie saw the full extent of the lameness so she could make an accurate assessment of her own horse.

Riding in the sand of NJ is sort of a roll of the dice, as far as I'm concerned. One one hand, it's flat and not at all technical. On the other, depending on the weather, the sand can either be packed rock hard, or turn into tendon-ripping deep fluff. There are a lot of horses who simply can't handle it, and I know there was a high pull rate for lameness at the Devil this year.

However, I suspect Steel set herself up for this pull before we even started. The fact that her shoulder was out makes me think that weaving all night long did take its toll on her, and the stress of working through sand for fifteen miles was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

Either way, I felt terrible when I called Dodie, "I'm sorry I broke your pony."
Dodie, as always, was understanding and laid back. She didn't freak out or point blame or get upset. For that, I love her. I tend to over analyze and stress out, and Dodie tends to bring me back to earth. Thank you, Dodie, for being a great owner to ride for.

When Kara saw me in camp later, she quipped, "At least it's not your horse that's lame!"
"I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse," I pouted. At least with my horse, I'm not letting anyone down but myself.

Eventually, I grew tired of walking Steel around aimlessly in camp. I was also super hungry (I suck at packing for rides, and without Mike to nudge me along, I really hadn't taken care of myself). Cindy had given me a PB&J (thank you, Cindy!), but it had worn off.

Finally, I decided to give this trailer tying thing another go. I wasn't sure how Steel would cope by herself at the trailer, but there were a few other horses within sight, and I was hopeful. I tied her and hung out with her for a bit. Then I walked out of sight and kept an eye on her. She seemed happy to munch on her hay and nap. I asked another rider to keep an eye on her while I ran to grab a bite to eat, and when I came back, she was still hanging out peacefully. By the time Cindy and Cheryl came back, she was totally at ease, and I wasn't the least bit worried about her.

I took the opportunity to park myself at the finish line to wait for my friends to come in. There was no photographer on Sunday, and I figured I could at least get pictures for them if I wasn't riding.

They came in grinning from ear to ear, and informed me that they had walked nearly the entire second loop to make up for the lightning-fast first fifteen miles. The horses definitely didn't look tired!

I hung out with them while they pulled tack, fed the horses, and waited twenty minutes for P&R. To my relief, both Crash and Bailey passed their vet checks with flying colors! I was thrilled that they both got their completions, especially Cindy who has been battling some metabolic issues with Bailey this year. I also stayed for hands on, and noticed that the vet seemed to really like Bailey, both because he had come through the ride really well and because he was so well-mannered (unlike a horse who had tried to kick the vet's head off earlier and lost several points on attitude).

Once Cindy, Cheryl, and the horses were settled, I got my stuff put away, helped Cindy wrap up the pen and her gear, and excused myself from camp. I would have loved to stay for awards, but I still had to take care of the horses at home, and I was hoping to get there before Mike was done with work. Plus, I was emotionally exhausted. Cindy dismissed me and gave me a big hug before I hit the road (thank you, Cindy, again!)

I really should have stayed for the awards. It turns out that Cindy and Bailey got GRAND CHAMPION!! I am 100% thrilled for them. Cindy must be over the moon.

As for Steel... she rode home in Cindy's trailer and was met by Dodie. She trotted sound up and down the driveway, and the swelling in her leg had reduced even without treatment. She did dip her right shoulder for a few days after the ride, confirming our suspicions about the root of the lameness. One week later, she did nine miles of mostly road riding and was sound as a dollar. We were ready to give the Mustang a go.

...and then Julio had to have an unexpected surgery and Dodie texted to tell me that I didn't have to feel obligated. I decided it would be wise to spend my weekend making money on lessons instead of spending it on competing. This will also give Steel more time to rest. I would be curious to know how she'd do against the sand again. I'm wondering if it was a fluke, or if it's not a footing she does well in in general.

Over all, I have gotten over the pull. It was going to happen sooner or later, and it's better to get it over with. It would be way more disappointing to get my first pull on a catch ride five years from now thank currently. The only thing that's still a big bummer is that this might have been my last ride of the season. I'm pretty disappointed that I had my best season to date, and it may have gone out on a sour note. Still, I can't complain, and the fifteen miles I did get to do were glorious.

Jersey Devil Preview

It was wonderful to ride Steel again, but today was not our day. I got pulled for the first time in three and a half years. I have never been pulled on anyone but Ozzy before. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but I'm still super bummed. Still, better ECTRA than AERC.

Jersey Devil 25 Mile CTR

Last weekend, Ozzy and I went down to the Pine Barrens for the Jersey Devil, opting to ride in Saturday's 25 miles CTR. It was the first time I've entered him in any kind of competition since he got hurt at Foxcatcher in 2011. I had accepted long ago that our 50 mile days are behind us, and didn't hold out much hope for LD's either. We've been doing some hunter paces here and there, and I had toyed around with the idea of doing some local CDR's next year. After our 25 mile drag ride in Maryland, however, I started to hope that Ozzy might still have some competitive miles left. Sandy talked me into signing up for the Devil, and also twisted my arm into not riding pass fail and into wearing a costume during the ride. It turned out to be quite a weekend.

At the last minute, our shipping arrangements got pretty complicated. Originally, Sandy and I were supposed to take Ozzy and Ember down together, but the week before the ride, Ember brewed a giant abscess and was too lame to ride, let alone compete. Sherry's horse, Scutch, is also out of commission with a suspensory tear.

In the end, Sandy borrowed Melissa's horse, Emu (French Fyr) and Sherry borrowed Dodie's mare, Daisy. At the same time, a young girl named Chelsea, who boards a mere six miles from my barn posted to the NJ trail riding Facebook group asking for shipping for her horse, Clay, an older National Show Horse who had been rescued from the Amish. So we had four riders from two states, four horses from two states (but not the same towns), and a three horse trailer. Confused yet?

Sherry took the three horse from her house in PA and drove through the entire state of NJ to pick up Emu, Clay, and Ozzy. Kevin, who was also competing that weekend, saved the day by driving by Dodie's to get Daisy. Sherry and I drove down together. Sandy, Mike, and Chelsea joined us later, each in a separate vehicle. But we got everyone there, settled, and paired with their horses. More importantly, we got everyone dropped off at their respective farms at the end of the weekend. Phew!

Ozzy was delighted to see me when I went to fetch him from the pasture. By now, I think he's realized that I only come to get him when we're doing something fun. He was talking at me and prancing as he came to meet me at the gate. Good boy! We did have to do a little shuffling with the horses in the trailer since Ozzy can't ride in the last slot of the slant-load.

The ride down was brief and uneventful. Sherry and I caught up on the latest news, exchanged stories, and laughed hysterically at the poodle sticking its head out of the sun roof in the car in front of us. I knew where we were going from rides in the past and from hiking with Mike and Herbie the other winter.

We arrived and got parked at the back of camp. We only had half the property this year because a haunted hay ride was running next door. I was grateful for the relative privacy of our location, but I was a bit concerned about the sand pit, and we had to unload the horses before we could pull the rig into the spot.

As soon as Ozzy unloaded, he looked around, peed, walked a few steps, and dropped to roll in the glorious sand. I think he missed the Pine Barrens. Emu, who lives where it's muddy, rolled repeatedly as well.

Mike wasn't far behind us, with the dogs in tow. Herbie was also delighted to be back in ride camp, and Julio was in for his first every ride experience. Between the group of us, we got the horses settled in, the pens set up, and everybody fed and watered. I paid  my entry fees, showed proof of rabies for everyone, etc.

Sherry and Daisy.

We made the decision to vet in on Friday night instead of waiting for the Saturday morning rush. I had begged Sandy into jogging Ozzy in for me. I still haven't done any running since my accident, and I wasn't about to tackle running, sand, and trot circles at the same time.

Vetting in that night was by far the most frustrating part of the weekend. The vet was new and this was his first CTR. That, however, wasn't the problem. The problem was that the lay judge was chatting up a storm, not really paying attention, and spending more time bossing people around than actually doing her job. I've had problems in the past, but I try to keep my head down because the CTR world can be pretty political.

By the time we got over to hands on, we had been standing in line for about an hour and a half (there were not that many horses to vet). Ozzy was completely amped up and raring to do his trot out. Sandy and I had stood together the entire time. She got vetted and asked to jog. Then the lay judge took the horse behind me instead of Ozzy! By the time that horse was done, we had run out of daylight. Ozzy had stood in line for an hour and a half instead of eating and walking around. He was ready to explode (and so was I, but in a different way). Now I was going to have to come back at dawn and do the trot out, despite the fact that we wouldn't be starting until 10am or so. I was boiling over as we marched back to our campsite in the dark. I had some pretty nasty comments to leave on my ride evaluation.

That night, Mike and I slept in the Yukon while the girls crashed in the bunk house. The temperatures dropped into the 20's, the coldest it's been so far this fall. I blanketed Ozzy since he was confined to a small space and the wind was blowing pretty bitterly. I am happy to report that I slept pretty well and stayed very warm that night. I had two down blankets, Julio on one side, Mike on the other, and Herbie across my feet. Unfortunately, the dogs pulled the blankets partly off of Mike and he had a draft from the door. He was pretty frozen by the morning, an unusual occurrence for him. In fact, he claims it's the coldest he's ever felt in his life. Poor guy. How does he get wrangled into these things?

I got up just before sunrise, fed Ozzy his breakfast, and went down to finish our vetting. Sandy was a good sport and trotted Ozzy for me. By now, Ozzy knew we were competing and he was totally psyched. He had possibly the worst trot out of his life. He paced, cantered, and reared while doing his best wild mustang stallion impression. Thankfully, he was polite about being a jerk and did so well out of Sandy's personal space. We were all laughing as he came back across the line. The judge was less amused. Sandy informed me that this might work in our favor. It's better to have a bad trot out at the beginning and a good trot out at the end than the reverse. He wasn't likely to lose points on his final trot out unless he was lame! (This is why I'd like to stick to endurance, btw.)

We went to the ride meeting, calculated our start times, donned our pinnies, and ate breakfast.

Then it was back to the trailer to get the horses tacked up (and the costumes put together). Upon Sandy's request, we went as the cast from the Madagascar movies. I was Alex. Ozzy was Marty. Sandy was one of the penguins. Emu was Melman. Sherry was the skinniest Gloria ever, and Daisy got to carry the rest of the characters, including King Julian, around on her cantle. I thought it was pretty hilarious, and that Ozzy made a fantastic zebra. I even wrapped his tail in zebra print vet wrap (and asked him to pretty please not buck because of it). I had a pretty sad excuse for a lion costume. I made it for under $20, including the world's ugliest sweat suit, and it scared the daylights out of my dogs. The best part was that it was cold enough for our decorative rump rugs to actually serve a purpose, hooray!

Before long, we were mounted up and heading for the starting line. Ozzy, despite his earlier antics, was on his best behavior, and I rode along at a lively walk on a loose rein. Our starting time was 10:13. Ideal ride time was 4h20m to 4h50m, including a half hour hold. I did the math in my head, and glanced at my watch.

Sherry, Sandy, and I rode together, but I spent most of the first loop a good distance in front of them to keep Ozzy settled. I didn't want him swapping gaits back and forth to go behind the other horses, and I didn't want him chasing to keep up. We'd trot until I lost sight of the girls, then walk until they caught back up. It made for a nice 6 mph average, and kept Ozzy from wearing himself out, especially in the deep sand.

And then I came off my horse less than five miles in. Whoops! We were going at a pretty good clip down a long, straight stretch of trail, when Ozzy spooked at a big log on our left. He did the stop dead, teleport left, and spin all at the same time. I lost my left stirrup and didn't have enough rein or neck to help catch myself. I did try to push myself back into the saddle, but I was on my bad leg and decided it would hurt less to take a tumble than it would to try to stay on.

Good zebra.

All the miles and miles of soft, sandy trail and he had to dump me on the hard-packed road. *sigh* I had a bruised butt, but no other injuries. I'm actually glad to get it out of the way. I've been dreading having a fall since I got hurt. It's good to fall off an have it be no big deal. I'm hoping that will be the last mental block from February.

Ozzy trotted back up the way we came, where Sandy and Sherry caught him. Sherry told me that she didn't quite put together what was going on at first. She described it as, "OMG! What just jumped out of the bushes at Ozzy? Is that a lion?! O, it's Dom..."

I re-mounted my horse and carried on. Thankfully, the other 22 miles were far less eventful.

The trails this year were gorgeous. We got to see a lot of water, and a variety of sand and pine tress (I joke, but there really are different landscapes if you pay attention down there). I even had a pretty good idea of where we were the entire time. I guess all those Pine rides are finally paying off.

After the first 15 miles, we had a half hour hold. Mike, who hadn't gotten roped into volunteering for a change, had set up our hold stuff and was standing by to help us as needed. I electrolyted Ozzy and he ate and drank well, dozing in between bites of food.

Ozzy vetted well, with good gut sounds and no sign of his arrhythmia. His P&R was 64/36 at 10 minutes. I also finally sucked it up and trotted my own horse. He did significantly better than he had at the vet-in. We had no soreness, no lameness, and no reason not to continue.

Sandy wasn't so lucky. Emu looked slightly off, and she decided to RO, especially since he's not her horse. It was the responsible decision, but we were sad to see her pull.

I had come in a few minutes before Sherry, but decided to wait for her out time so we could ride together. We did the last ten miles with Ozzy and Daisy trotting side by side. They were actually pretty well matched. We made good time, and mostly walked the last three miles or so. Ozzy still had plenty of energy to go, but we were going to beat our minimum time if we went any faster.

I think my favorite part of the ride was when we rode up to a big puddle across the trail. There was a little sign put up by ride management with an arrow pointing down. The sign simply read, "Water."
"O, is that what that is? I never would have guessed!" About 50 feet down the trail was another, equally big puddle. This one was not labeled. "Better be careful... this might be lava or something!"

Before I knew it, Sherry and I were riding down the power lines back to camp. We waited our required 20 minutes for final P&R. Ozzy was at 48/14, which is phenomenal for him!!!

It only took me six and a half years to get him one of these...

Then we did our final trot. He trotted out beautifully with good impulsion and willingness, but we don't ever practice in-hand circles, so we lost all that when it came time to circle. It's all handler error (and I was pretty much dying by the time I got done running in the deep sand). He paced a bit on his circles and was a little sluggish following me back, but the good news is that there was absolutely no sign of lameness. Good man!

It wasn't long before we were back at the vet for final hands-on. Ozzy had some back soreness on the right side, by the cantle. I wasn't having any leg pain so I suspect it's actually a saddle fit issue now. I had meant to put him back in the foam riser pad for the Devil, but I left it in Sandy's trailer after our Hangover Ride, and it never made it to ride camp. I really hope this isn't the start of a saddle fit battle. I've done multiple 50's with him in the Wintec, and he's never been even remotely sore in it. Then again, his body shape has changed significantly in that time (and I suspect he's a good candidate for swayback).

The awards ceremony was shortly after the final hands-on. I was thrilled to get our completion. Ozzy had officially made a comeback and it was all I could have hoped for.

Then I got my score card and was pleasantly surprised. We lost a point on P&R (required parameters were 44/12), and we lost two points on the back soreness. Ozzy also had some fill in his legs by the end of the ride (he has wind puffs all the time, and stocks up from standing in one spot for too long, so I'm not at all surprised) so we lost 2.5 points there as well.

And of course, we got butchered on the trot out, and lost another 2.5 points (intermittent pacing is frowned upon). Thankfully, we didn't get any lameness, toe dragging, muscle soreness, or lack of coordination. A look around revealed that everyone had gotten knocked pretty severely for their trot outs. At the risk of sounding like someone who is always making excuses, I think having the trot outs in deep sand in the middle of the parking area probably didn't benefit anybody. Sherry lost 4.5 points on her trot out, and I thought Daisy looked pretty good, if slightly slow/lazy.

So our final score was 92/100! I was delighted. Apparently, I have a CTR horse after all. Maybe I'll give the sport a fair shot after all. This also gives me hope that Ozzy might have some LD miles left in AERC still, but let's not get ahead of ourselves...

That night, we made a small bonfire and sat around drinking and having a good time. The dogs were delighted with all the attention (and snacks) they were getting, and we were up late laughing and joking. The highlight, of course, was Sandy trying to break a log only to have the log win. Julio looked very concerned as she lay flat on her back in the sand, her head lamp shining like a lonely beacon into the night sky, but the rest of us were too busy laughing to help her.

The following morning, Mike and I got to sleep in a bit. This time, Mike had wrapped himself in his subzero sleeping bag, and shoved the dogs over to my side of the truck. We both stayed toasty. With Chelsea riding another 10 miles on Clay, we were in no hurry to get home.

Herbie and Julio were basically having the best weekend of their lives. At home, people frequently cross the street to avoid my two 'scary' dogs, but at a CTR, they were surrounded by animal lovers and people who aren't afraid of big dogs. They got loved and petted and fed and complimented. They even won over the affections of some teen girls from a local intervention program, who were initially scared of them. Before long, they were getting face kisses and butt wiggles galore! It's hard to say no to that.

After getting Ozzy taken care of and camp basically wrapped up, Mike and I took the dogs for a walk to the neighboring sand pit in the woods, where we played a rousing and exhausting game of fetch. Julio is starting to catch up to Herbie in speed and fitness, and I don't think he'd ever played in sand before that weekend. Both dogs were completely delighted.

I spent the afternoon volunteering for P&R while Mike and the dogs relaxed. There, I got to meet a giant mule named Billy John. It wasn't long before I realized that he looked familiar because I knew him! It was the mule who was competing in dressage at DVHA when I had CP there last summer! Apparently, Billy does it all, including driving. This was his first CTR!

Once Kevin was done for the weekend, we sent Daisy on her way. Then, once Chelsea completed, we got the other horses loaded up and were on our merry way. I was the first stop of the afternoon and had Ozzy put away and Dancer fed before dark. I thanked Sherry profusely for picking us up, but let her go ASAP since she still had a long drive ahead of her.

From there I went home to wash the sand and grime off of myself, then sat back to edit photos and video.

It feels so good to compete successfully with Ozzy again. I never thought I'd see the day!

As usual, I've got a better feel for what works and what doesn't. The LyteNow really does the trick for Ozzy. It gets him drinking when I need it and keeps his heart under control (I could actually see it kicking in on the heart monitor at one point). I need to invest in saddle bags (I've been doing it long enough, don't you think?) The endurance stirrups fix my right knee issue completely (and my leg seems to be getting stronger with every ride). I am a little concerned with this new back soreness issue, but I'm hoping being more vigilant about swapping diagonals, and putting him back in the 'miracle pad' will resolve that. More than anything, I'm just glad to see him stay sound and stay peppy. I'm glad Sandy and Sherry talked me into giving it a try.

I actually remembered to charge and bring my helmet cam. I tried to get our four and a half hour ride down to under ten minutes, but I haven't bothered to fix the sound. Feel free to fast forward.

Sunday Stills: Jersey Devil Preview