Oakland Hills 50, 1999
Or, How NOT to behave on a single track trail.
The long time tradition of the Oakland Hills ride took place on Saturday June 26th this year. It was a memorable ride for me, to say the least. Since Shatta is still up on blocks in the garage due to his suspensory injury, I was lucky enough to ride my wife Judy’s Wonder Appy Warpaint in our second ride together. We had a blast at the Castle Rock 50 a few weeks ago, finishing in great shape after a really fun ride. The Oakland Hills ride would be my last ride before attempting Tevis on the App. He’s 2 for 3 at Tevis- I want to make it 3 for 4.
The ride is managed by the ever-capable ride manager Laura Fend, along with her husband, some guy named Larry, or Barry, or Harry- maybe it’s Chet. No, Gary, that’s right. Yeah- Gary Fend. The guy who is solely responsible for me getting totally lost in an endurance ride, thus bequeathing me with the nick-name “Wrong Way Warhol.” I’ve never missed a turn in my life, and thanks to Gary, I get lost one little, tiny time, and now I have a legacy. Oh well- I’ll get even with him someday.
Gary made it clear that he had used a lot of ribbon to mark the course, just so I wouldn’t get lost. The ride was indeed well marked, with one human exception. We started out in nice cool weather up the long, gradual climb from Bort Meadow towards Redwood park. I rode with my endurance riding buddy Sally Abe and her spunky little Arabian gelding Ahkiba. Spunky little horse? I sort of consider him a beginner but he is really coming along. He has done 6 or 7 fifties now, I think, and has developed into a strong, reliable horse. Sally’s plan is to do a few more fifties, and attempt her first 100 down at 20 mule team in February. I know he misses his friend Shatta but boogies along regardless. Joining us was Kathy Webster on the red horse Alaarm, or better known as Alaarm clock. He was a strong son-of-a-gun at the start and was telling Kathy he wouldn’t be back here with the slow folks for long. We trotted along up the ridge, down the other side, across Redwood road, and up the Golden Spike single track trail where a spotter directed us to the right. Except the trail was supposed to go to the left. Uh oh. We were in about 30th place or so as we trucked along the narrow single track trail in a long string of horses. The War Pony was jamming and feeling great. Suddenly we stopped! There was a long bottleneck of horses on the trail. We heard shouting coming from up near the front of the line of horses. “Turn around! This is the wrong way!” “We can’t turn around!” “This is the wrong way! Turn around!” “What?” “Will someone please move? Move!!!” The problem was that the first thirty or so horses came to an arrow that was pointing backwards on the trail. They realized the entire pack was going the wrong direction on this tight trail. In their excitement they forgot, or didn’t realize, or something, that there were about 60 horses right behind them facing the way they had just come. They tried to turn around, but not every one would, or could. There was no way to see around the tight turns, all we could do was to try and get people to calm down. I actually turned around at one point, as did Sally, but had to turn around again. It was really frustrating, since no one seemed to be able to take any control of the situation, but due to the physical location of the horses no one could. Ron Waltenspeil tried to.
(Ron) “Everyone up there, just keep going!! Let’s get off this trail!”
(leader’s voices) “No, it’s the wrong way! Turn around! Go back!!”
(Ron) We can’t!! There are 60 horses back here. This trail is to narrow to mess around. Go forward!!”
(Leader’s) “NO!! It’s the wrong way! Turn around!!! We need to turn around!! There’s an arrow here!!”
(Ron) Listen up! This is dangerous! Just get going! We’ll figure this out when we get somewhere safe!”
(Leaders) No!! Turn around!!
There are now horses trying to turn around, in both directions, all over the place on this really narrow trail with a really steep drop off to the downside. Warpaint isn’t helping. He doesn’t stand still anyway, and on this tight trail he’s moving too much. The scene is ugly. People shouting, yelling, turning around, bumping into each other, no one seems to be listening to anyone. Total confusion.
(Ron) Listen, Dammit!! Get going forward! This is not safe! We’ll all be lost together and then we can sort it out. Move!! We are going to loose a horse…….”
Just as he says this Warpaint takes a big step sideways and plunges off the side of the trail. CRASH! Down we go, rolling down the very steep hillside. I actually sort of stepped off and rolled only once, but the Appy was on his way down the canyon with Gravity doing it’s part. I jumped down the hill after the horse much to the surprise of Sally. “I’m fine,” I shouted, “I’m going after him!” Down I went, slipping and crashing down the steep hillside, trying to keep Warpaint in sight.
The line of riders suddenly got very quiet. Some people got off their horses. Ron saw what happened.
“Okay! We lost a horse down the hill. GET GOING, NOW!” That did it. The word spread forward that I had gone over. Everyone started moving forward down the trail. People kept shouting after me, asking if I could see him, was I okay? I just kept crashing down this bank, thankful it wasn’t a cliff. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep up with the horse. He bulldogged his way down the steep bank while I kept falling down, through trees, bushes and shrubs. I had no problem following his trail since he was mashing all the plants flat as he made his way down. Who knows what I went through, I just know I kept falling down because I could not stay on my feet and move forward.
We finally reached the bottom of the ravine where the hill started to flatten out. I saw a creek bed to the right but the horse tracks I was following said he didn’t go that way. I started to run through the shrubs and caught a glimpse of him as he hit the paved road at the bottom and took off trotting up the road. Great! The road that leads to Oakland. I had visions of a Kenworth with a spotted horse plastered on the front. Damn! This isn’t even my horse! I hit the road and took off running, fast. I sprinted a half-mile or so until I had to slow down. I came to a fork in the road. Double Damn! Which way? I was panting like a dog as I stopped to ponder what to do. Just then up drives Gary in his car. He sees me standing there in the road, panting, with no horse. I just KNEW he wanted to say something about being lost, but when he saw the look on my face he just said “What happened?” I told him I took a dive and lost the horse. I sent him down the right fork in the car while I took off again on foot to the left. Not too far later I saw a parking area, and lo and behold, there were the horses coming down the hill from the single track trail I just fell off. The parking area was the first vet check, but we were about 10 miles early since we were riding the course backwards at this point. Well, at least everyone was but me since I took my “short cut.” In the confusion as I ran up I saw someone leading a horse. Hey, that’s him! He had run into the check. And who should be leading him, but Judy! She had a worried sort of look on her face that changed to bewilderment as she saw me come sprinting up, huffing and puffing. Her first thought was “Why is he in first place?” since WP had hit the check before any of the other horses. He trots fast by himself, especially on a paved road. Only problem was: no rider! Amazingly enough, just as I got my hands on his reins and swung back up into the saddle, here comes Sally and Kathy. They look at me like they’d seen a ghost- I hadn’t even lost a place!
Thank goodness Gary and Laura can think quickly. They just sent everyone back out on the trail backwards to complete the loop in the other direction, then back to this check in about 10 miles. This way the leaders were still the leaders. Off we went, with me pulling sticks, twigs, and general shrubbery out of my clothes. We climbed a hill and began trotting again on a wide road. But the War Pony was off in the back. Big time. I hopped off and jogged him. He seemed okay. I got back on and trotted. Nope- he was struggling in the rear end. Bummer. I broke Judy’s horse. I sent Sally on her way and started to lead the horse on down the trail to towards the check. Everyone and their mother passed me and gave me their condolences as I walked along. Or tried to walk along. Warpaint has about the worst ground manners of any horse alive, especially when excited. He was excited, too, as all those horses kept going past. He kept smashing into me, pushing me all over the trail. I had about enough of that and picked up a stick. I’d poke him in the side when he moved into me- the stick broke. Okay- bigger stick. Broken again. Hmmmm. I grabbed a hunk about the size of my thumb and used it for a while until he broke it. Okay- enough. I picked up a nice redwood branch about three feet long and the diameter of a small baseball bat. That one worked. We had a “swell” manners lesson as we walked for over an hour to the check. Man, what a pain in the ass. As superb as he is under saddle, he really stinks on the ground. He began to respond to my “bat.” Wouldn’t you? I guess some people saw me carrying it into the check as I walked in and got quite a chuckle. It was for my own self preservation!.
We crossed the stream and walked into the camp from the other direction, cutting the course by a few hundred feet. I assumed I was done for the day. The check was about deserted when Steve the vet came to look at the horse. I trotted WP- he was perfect. Circles, no problem. Out and back five times- he looked perfect. Steve said he looks fine. Where’s the saddle? We tacked him up in record time as Steve told me just take it easy to lunch and let me see him again. Judy told Steve that WP has had a cramp episode in the past a couple of times that he walks out of. I headed out of the check in about 100th place out of 105 starters, all by my self, with no horses in sight.
Not for long. Here’s where this horse comes alive. Judy has always said he goes real well by himself. I spent what could have been the neatest 5 or 6 miles of my riding life after we left that check. Warpaint turned into a machine and just started trucking, powerful, smooth, strong, solid- It was really something. You just let him go and he sails along through the forest. We began catching riders quickly- Warpaint would just dispatch them and sail on. We were talking it easy- he worked his way past about 20 horses or so on the way to lunch.
Into the check- he recovered fine and looked great for Steve. Okay! I was still way in back but now had no problems. After a nice lunch break we got him ready for the second 25 miles. All of my friends had left lunch before me. I thought I might catch a few before the finish since he felt so good. Understatement! We left lunch with Warpaint on his endurance mission. His mission: catch and pass horses. We did. This was our last conditioning ride before Tevis, so I did want to let him extend a bit. We spent the rest of the ride catching and passing people, most of who had seen us or heard that we fell down the mountain in the morning. We just trotted along, fast and smooth, passing everyone we came to. We came up on internet buddies Kathy and Jennifer- Hi guys, see ya! They disappeared in our dust. This nutty horse isn’t even working hard! Along the big lake- passed five more. There’s our friend Carolyn on Echo- hi, and bye! We caught up to Sally and rode along with her, until she and the lady she was riding with didn’t want to keep up with the flying App. On to the last check at 40 miles- here’s where the Arabs come in handy. We walked in for a long way, had a big drink, and spent his usual 10 to 15 minutes getting him down. He always comes down, it just takes a while. Sally came in with Ahkiba- they recovered in 2 minutes and left the check before us. I miss Shatta! But Warpaint wasn’t worried- we left the check after looking great for Steve and motored along. We caught Sally again and then rode the last 10 miles or so together. We finished in 28th and 29th place at about 2:30 pm.
Like I said before- now I know why Judy hasn’t dumped this horse. On the ground you’d probably shoot him if possible. Up in the saddle like today there isn’t enough money to get him from under me. What a trip. What a Jeckyl and Hyde. What a horse. Next stop- Tevis.
The lessons to be learned are three:
1- Don’t let the frenzy of a ride and the excitement of being in front cloud your judgement regarding safety. For all that happened I was lucky. Think about the safety of the other riders when you get into a situation that calls for some decision making. No ride is worth winning if a horse or rider were lost.
2- When on a single track trail- keep moving, even if it’s wrong. If I had my chance I promise you I would have let anyone go on ahead of me rather than taking my untimely detour.
3- When someone experienced like Ron Waltenspiel is telling you something, LISTEN! The man has a lot of experience in this sport. He knew what was wrong, he was trying to solve the problem, he knew what could happen, and it did. Thanks, Ron.
Nick Warhol
Hayward, Ca.