The American
River Ride, April 29th,
2006
Smile: (noun)
1- a facial expression in which the eyes brighten and the corners of the mouth
curve slightly upward and which expresses especially amusement, pleasure, or
approval. 2- Nick’s face at the end of the
American River Classic. You will have to
read on to see why!
I have said this many times before, but I really like doing
rides for the first time. The American River ride is the oldest continuing sanctioned
ride there is, except for Tevis, I believe, something like 33 years now. It’s right on my door step, but for some odd
reason I have never tried it, although Judy has. It’s a point to point ride that starts
outside of Sacramento and heads up to Auburn, Ca, with extra
loops that mosey out into the mountains for the 50 and 70 mile distances. Paul Klentos took over the ride management
chores this year, keeping the classic ride alive. The ride worked perfectly into my schedule
for my horse Don, (with one exception!) who is having a great ride year so far. Unfortunately Judy did not attend, as both
her horses are not quite ready yet, (and she’s taking care of our best elderly
cat), so my riding buddy Sally Abe came along to help me out by driving my rig
for me, since it’s a point to point ride.
We drove up on Friday afternoon to the Negro Bar Park right on the
American River, in Folsom, Ca. There
were not as many riders this year as have been in the past, due partially to
the crazy rains we have had out West up until just two weeks ago. I think there were about
eighty something on the three distances.
Paul (or someone) had a great idea for the ride dinner- they had it
Friday night, since riders would be finishing the three rides in Auburn spread across something like 10 hours. The dinner was yummy, except for the darn
mosquitoes. I passed my can of Off around during the ride meeting. I HATE those stupid things. I was signed up for the 70 miler that started
at 5:30 am- groan! Egad- that’s
early. It was dark as I led Don over to
the start, which I could not even find.
It was across the paved parking lot about a quarter mile away from
camp. There were only 14 riders in the
70, and most had left before I got to the start at 5:35. You know how you always do or learn something
new at every ride? Yep- I had mine here at the start.
I gave Erin my number and without any
horses in sight, I hopped up on Don.
Something felt weird, though. He
started to walk, but started sort of kicking out his front legs a little. He was walking funny, and the saddle felt
just bizarre. Oh well, let’s go! I started to trot a bit, but realized no,
something is not right at all here. I
stopped and started to hop off, but as I got off the saddle came along with
me. Huh? I looked under the horse and saw my nice string
girth hanging straight down, being held up by the breast collar. It had come completely undone while walking
over, and I neglected to check it before getting on. Real smart! It was bumping his front legs as he walked,
hanging straight down to the ground.
What a good horse! How in the
world did I get up there with the girth attached to only one side of the
saddle? Why, with superb balance, skill,
and unbelievable ability, naturally! Uh huh. Good thing
there was no one to see my expert display of stupidity. I snugged it down and hopped back on- much
better. We headed out all alone on the
dirt shoulder of a bike path for a bit: very urban. We were in town, sort of, riding next to some
paved roads on the dirt shoulder for a while.
This is strange- going by houses and cars and stuff. I was told this ride was all single track, my absolute favorite.
Oh, here it is- we turned off onto a trail that disappeared in to the
trees. I started trotting along, but
found rocky spots I had to stop and walk through. I had made kind of a dumb decision to start
the ride with 5 week old shoes due to my riding schedule, but heck, I had an
easy boot, and how rocky could it be, right?
(Long pause for more stupidity points to soak in) After a couple of miles a rider came up behind
me; we started to chat, I asked her where she was from, she said Carmel Valley,
it had to be an Eaton!
It was- Sarah Garcia, Bob Eaton’s daughter. We rode along together on these urban single
track trails. It was so strange- you are
on a nice trail in the woods, and then you pop out on a road, with business and
houses all around. Back in the trees on
a trail, and then along side more paved roads next to more houses. Kind of neat, just not what
I’m used to. We finally reached
the dam at the end of Folsom lake and rode along side the huge lake on gravel
roads with some rocky spots, but not bad.
We would pop up to the top of the levy and see the lake as the sun was
starting to come up. Wow, that’s
pretty. The lake is big- we finally
turned away and headed onto more trottable tails that led us to the 7 mile trot
by check, where we trotted on by. Sarah
and I were trading places in front a lot- it was great practice, but we were
the only two horses on the planet at that point. There was a pond off to the left of the trail
at one point that was like a mirror- it had yellow Wild Iris flowers all around
it that could have been used in a poster or jig saw puzzle. The nice trails did
their chameleon act as we got up towards the end of the lake. It was all single track trail,
but it became Sierra Nevada mountain
technical. Lots of
rocks, steps, and very slow going, at least for us. We walked a lot through here, and it went on
for several miles. What’s this? A woman on a grey horse came up behind us- I
thought it was the leader of the 50. Nope, a late 70. We
plodded through this very rocky section, and it was in here I started wondering
about my shoes. Every time we would get
to a nice section and start to trot it would get rocky again. At long last we emerged onto more trails that
rolled along behind some homes up on the hill.
We followed these a while through the trees- very nice riding. Some
muddy spots, but nothing at all bad. We
showed up at the rattlesnake check at 19 miles and had a quick 15 minute
hold. Both horses looked great, so we
started right back out onto more single track trails. We were heading for the American river, and
when we got there, I knew it. Wow! That thing was big, and it was full! It was also a few hundred feet below us as
we trotted along on very narrow trails that had zero shoulder to the
right. This would be the wrong place to
turn right! Next stop, cold water! These trails were incredible to see and ride
on, but I can see where some people may not be too comfy here if they don’t
like heights or steep drop offs. We did
do a little walking through some moderately rocky sections, but the never
ending trails kept winding along the river as we headed East.
There was an incredible waterfall across
the canyon, dumping cascading water down into the river from a cliff a few
hundred feet high. What a sight! It was like being in Yosemite.
It was here I first heard it- that horrible sound of a shoe
coming loose. It starts with a little “ting”,
then becomes a “tang”, and before you know it, it’s
going “clong” every time the hoof touches the ground. Darn it!
A rear was coming loose. We had
about 8 miles or so to the 30 mile point in Auburn; I just hoped it would hold on until
then, and I could find a farrier. I kept
yelling at myself- dumb! I know better,
but I wanted to do the ride. The trails got technical again as we neared Auburn; and most were
rocky. We had two more horses catch up
to us here, but both were on the 70. The
ride sent us past the infamous cardiac hill in favor of the bypass hill. It was way less steep, but was still a pretty
good climb. “Clong, clong, clong” goes
my shoe. Where is Auburn?
We started riding through the edge of town, like in the morning- across
paved roads and around buildings. We
crossed a road and made a wrong turn down the trail next to the little culvert
that runs through the overlook. Kind of cool, but wrong.
We got to a wooden sluice box that Sarah would have trouble crossing on
her feet, let alone with a horse.
Oops! Turn around, go back. “Clong, clong, clong” goes the shoe, annoyingly
reminding me how stupid I was. We found
the correct turn and worked our way on more single track trails over to the
Tevis trail, where we hung a left and climbed right up to the lunch stop at the
overlook. I made it! Don pulsed down immediately, followed shortly
by Sarah’s mare. Sally and Hugh Vanderford were there
and took over. Sally had made me lunch
and was cooling the horse, since it had gotten hot outside. I told Hugh about the rear shoes- he looked,
and said yikes! They were about as thick
as a yellow post it note. He could have peeled it off with his
hands. He went and lined up the farrier
(THANK YOU RIDE MANAGEMENT!) who whipped two new rear shoes on Don as we fed
him his lunch. (The
horse, not the farrier!) He also
took a look at the fronts, which he described as marginal, but in his opinion
would probably get me through. We vetted
through with Don looking great! What a
relief! I would have kicked myself into
the next county if I had blown the ride due to a poor shoeing decision. When Don trotted for the vet it was SO good
to hear than nice clomp sound coming from the rear again. Thirty miles down, forty to go.
I finished up my lunch; we headed out back down the Tevis
trail and rode the few miles just up above the incredible river to the no hands
bridge. I have been on these trails a
bunch- it’s kind of nice knowing where you are.
Across the famous bridge we went, in reverse of the Tevis direction, and
in daylight, no less. The river was so high,
and had rapids rushing like mad all over the place. No swimming in there this weekend, in fact I
never saw a raft or kayak either. We
made the little turn to the right, up the trail past the bridge and came to
this thing called the training hill.
Yep- it’ll train you, if you try and climb it. It’s a hair under a mile long and goes pretty
much straight up all the way, and is rocky and nasty in spots. I hopped off Don and decided to walk up it with
him on foot. The first section was like
climbing stairs! A third of the way up
and I had been trained, all right. Sarah
was riding her mare up the grinding hill; I hitched a ride from her mare and
tailed up the steeper sections for a while until Sarah got off and joined me on
the ground. Exercise? You bet!
It gives you great appreciation for what your horse does for you when
you walk up something like that. We
stopped ten times or more for a breathing break, which Sarah noticed my horse
did not seem to be doing. Hmmm- very nice.
Every time we stopped he just went for the green grass. I like it!
It took forever to crest that monster, and for those of you who condition
on this thing, good job! We were mixed
up with the 50 mile riders now and had some company at the top of the
hill. I believe this section of the ride
was all new this year; we ended up on a dirt road that was littered with rocks
and up and down hills that we walked up and down. We were not making great time due to all the
walking we were doing, but that’s okay.
We spent some time splashing around in a big stream, which was great for
the horses after that climb. The rolling
roads continued along into an area outside of Cool that was just lush, grassy
meadows covered in deep green grass.
There were trails all over the place; this is a nice area to ride in for
certain. We kept seeing trail and
mileage signs for Cool, yet we never seemed to get there. We had to cross a pond, literally, that was
covering our trail. It was neat- we
slogged across it slowly, but had to negotiate some muddy slop on the other
side. We could finally see the town of Cool and began trotting
along on some nice trails that ran right behind people’s houses. Sarah’s mare took a few funny steps, and
after stopping to check her out, we continued on and arrived at the 45 mile vet
check. What a nice place! There were several water hoses for cooling
down the horses, which we gladly did, as it was pretty warm out. It took Sarah’s horse a few minutes to pulse
down, but no matter, she took some bad steps while trotting and was
pulled. Darn it! We were having such a
great ride all day, and the two horses were going so well together. Poor Sarah was pretty depressed, sine she was
hoping to do Swanton, but now she’s not so sure. Don, however, looked just wonderful; in fact
the vet was quite impressed. They were
looking at horses on the 70 pretty closely here, since
they were about to head off into the wilderness with little access for help if
you got in trouble. I left the check
alone, wondering about how my horse would be without his new friend. No worries at all- he called once or twice,
and even went past the road sign with the “OH NO!” wall mart plastic shopping
bags tied over it. He HATES those
things. What a good boy! We trotted along on more roads that turned
into some trees; Don saw some horses ahead and scurried along to catch them,
which we did in short order. I was
wondering where the 50/70 trail split was going to be, and just as we caught
the horses, they hung a left and we turned right. He was so good- he continued on down the
trail, which turned into a nasty, steep, rocky, yucky down
hill road that started the Wendel Robie trail.
I got off and we walked down the thing, and passed three horses that
were riding together slowly down the cruddy road. We finally reached the bottom, where I hopped
on; off we went at a nice trot, right to the highway 49 crossing. Once across, we entered the forest that we
would be in for a while! It was about 10
miles to the last vet check, at a place called Alt (What’s an alt?). The trail was 100% single track; it was tight
in the beginning, with so many bushes and branches hanging over the trail I
just gave up trying to avoid them, poison oak and all. There were some really nasty, boggy, muddy,
steep little sections to negotiate, including lots of deep ruts and rocks to
climb over. It was pretty technical, and
I realized it would take forever to walk 9 miles of this stuff. Not to worry- the trails got better the
deeper we went in to the forest, and the last 3 or 4 miles of the Robie trail
was as nice as anything out here. It is
a narrow single track cut into the side of the mountains that just rolls along
for a few miles- just wonderful. Until I started hearing the dreaded “ting” of a loose shoe up
front. Oh great! The trails here were nice and soft, though,
which was good. Don was being so neat-
just trotting along as happy as can be, having no idea in the world where he
was or where he was going. He and I had
been by ourselves for a couple of hours now, which I was really enjoying.
The front shoe continued its little metallic symphony as I
finally reached the turn for the last vet check at 57 miles. The sun was
getting low in the canyon, cooling things off a little at last. This was a neat place, though, a little
campground tucked back in the forest. There
was a horse in the check, a big white mare, I believe. Don walked in and pulsed down with a 56/52
cri, which I sure liked. (He was at 44
in a couple of minutes, which I liked even more) We spent the 15 minute hold
eating: him the green grass, and me, pretzels and a power bar the other horse’s
rider’s husband gave me. Boy, I owe him
big. I had not realized how hungry I had
become. I had been drinking plenty, but
I needed that food. I led my beast out
of the check with him eating hay I was carrying down the trail. Luckily he finished it quick, since I came to
one of the nastiest things I have ever led a horse down. Maine Bar road? Yuck!
I’m glad it was only a quarter mile or so- straight down, steep, and
nothing but rocks, trenches, tree roots, just horrible. And me here with a shoe
that just promoted itself from “ting” to “tang.” Not now!
Please, shoe, stay on! There was
a rain rut so deep in this “road” that a horse would not fit in it, so a make
shift trail had been cut out into the trees.
Don had to stop and hop down little sections of it, since it was really
just rock steps in places. It did not
end too soon for me, right at the river, and the Tevis trail. Okay, cool, I know where I am now. I joined up with the woman riding the white
mare and started trotting down the nice roads that run along the West side of
the big river, which was flowing so hard it was difficult to talk in a couple
of places. River
crossing today? Not even in a Sherman tank! Don went right in front; he was just trucking
along at a great trot. We came to a
section of the trail that was no more- washed away by the river. Gone!
There was a rocky little bypass that had been hastily made, but once
past that it was just a mile or so to the lower quarry, and on a couple more
miles to the road crossing at highway 49.
The shoe in front was still “tanging,” and not “clonging” yet, thank goodness. We crossed
the highway and headed up the short little trail up the hill, but my friend
said she was going to hang here a bit to let her horse eat a while, and told me
I should go on ahead. Don and I walked
the trail up and down to the no hands bridge again; I mounted up and rode on
across. We trotted across the bridge-
that was neat. There were several people
hiking in the area- I love the traditional question: “Where did you rent the
horse?” Uh huh. Not this one!
We trotted along towards Auburn on the road up above the river as the
sun started to set. It was one of those
moments you get to experience once in a while.
It was just beautiful out, the river was rushing below, the air was
cool, it’s just me and my special horse, bopping
along, just enjoying life. We got to the
single track that heads up out of the canyon too soon for my taste, and made
our way up the rocky trail. I missed a
turn and climbed up a road that led to a gate, but quickly backtracked and
found the right trail. Don knew where he
was- we trotted up the single track trail, and right
into the finish at the overlook. We made
it! He drank a ton, as he had been doing
all day. We finished in fifth place,
Don’s first top ten, and as a result got to show for BC. It was getting dark, so they turned on some
headlights for my first real BC presentation.
Melissa Ribley and Michelle Roush looked him over and gave him very good
grades overall. I trotted him out, back,
and in the big circles in the parking lot, his clanking front shoe staying
within the “tang” parameters. Thank you
god of horse shoe nails! He looked
absolutely great, CRI 48/44, and Melissa complemented him, saying he looked
very “perky.” Hmm. I like that.
Another name for this horse- Perky Don. They said thanks and sent us back to the
truck to eat. He started power eating,
as did I the spaghetti Sally had cooked.
I was on my second Asahi super dry when Paul came over to the truck and
told me to hang around, since they were doing the BC math. Huh? I
finished way behind the winner, and assumed that would preclude me from any
chance at BC. Nope- it was awarded to my
Forever Dawn. (That’s his real
name.)
Remember that smile from the first line of the story? It started right there, and has not stopped
yet. I don’t think anyone can imagine
how proud I am of this horse. He’s
sixteen for sixteen now, and is looking better with every ride. Melissa asked me if I was planning on riding
Tevis on him- I was going to wait for 07, but not now. If I had any doubt whatsoever about his being
able to do it, it was dashed on this day.
Next stop- Wild West 3 day (one of my favorite rides
of the year), Oakland
hills or Gold country, and the big mac on August 8th.
Still smiling-
Nick Warhol
Hayward,
Ca