Tevis, 2001
One of the toughest ones ever?
Nick Warhol
Another Tevis ride is in the books. There is just something about this ride that keeps people coming back, year after year. Like me. This was my fourth attempt in five years. If you look at the odds, most people who do this ride a lot have about a 50% completion rate. That only makes sense, since statistically about 50% of the riders don’t finish in any given year. Before this year I was 3 starts, 3 finishes, with 2 completions. Okay, only 2 finishes, but I count being pulled at the finish line finishing, just not completing. Okay, Okay, I’m two for three. I guess I should not exaggerate, since I have this pet peeve about the ultimate exaggeration, “Reserve Champion.” Why do they use that? Why not say “second place,” or “runner up?” How come there is no “Reserve Reserve Champion” for third place? “Reserve Reserve Reserve Champion” for fourth? All right, I digress, but it still bugs me. At any rate, I tried for Tevis number four this year. Did I make it? You will have to read on to find out.
We had a couple of adventures on the way to the ride this year, which makes sense, since it seems that Tevis just compounds everything. I charged up the camper batteries a few days before the ride, but the morning we left, they were deader than a sun dried tomato. No juice. What a great way to start. Judy had a good idea- we just call up Camping World in Sacramento and have them charge up a couple of batteries, then I’d just install them in the parking lot. We got there without any problems; Judy kept the crowd in the parking lot entertained with Warpaint, while I changed over the batteries. No problem- we were on our way in no time with lots of nice, new amps, tucked tightly in the two new batteries. We headed up highway 80 and made it almost to the Donner summit, only to stop in a traffic jam. On Thursday afternoon? Oh yes, it was a traffic jam, and a doozey. Caltrans was doing roadwork and had only one lane open, right on the steepest part of the summit climb. We crawled along at 1-2 miles an hour for about an hour and a half in the heat, the truck coming so close to overheating it was scary. One of the saving graces was the car show we got to see along the way. There is this big show in Reno called Hot August Nights for old classic cars going on the same weekend, so lots of people drive their old beauties up to Reno for a few days. Except these old beasts are not built to idle for 90 minutes on a hot uphill in the mountains. There had to be at least 50 old cars pulled over with the hoods up. We saw lots of nice, hot cars (literally) and some pissed off owners, all sitting on the side of the road. We made it to the ride site at Robe Park without further problems, although a little later than we wanted. No problem- my riding partner this year, Rebecca Jankovich, had a nice spot all set up for us in the trees. Rebecca owns Moose, the horse I rode at the 20-mule team 100 in February. This was his (and her) first attempt at Tevis, so they paired up with me and the mighty Warpaint, the Wonder Appy. The turbo Appaloosa has started four Tevis rides and finished 3, with his only pull being after he fell down on a paved bike path at Squaw Valley a few years ago. Ouch! He and I finished in 32nd place in 99; this mottled skin, monster of the trails knows the course and loves to go.
Much of our pre-ride time was spent eating. Not eating my usual camping stuff, mind you, but really eating. Berecca’s (That’s Rebecca spelled sideways) buddy Warren is a gourmet chef or something, at least that’s what I say now. Ready for our menu? Remember- this is camping in the woods, without using a camper or stove. Thursday for lunch we had pasta salad with big prawns, homemade pesto, seasoned with basil grown in the garden at her home. For dinner we had chicken tomatillo with eggplant, onions, and veggies with spices, cambozola cheese and white cheddar cheese.
Friday night: sea bass marinated in garam masala (Indian spice that was brought
home from Jaipur) (where the heck is that??) and rice wine, baked in dutch oven, with green salad and pasta salad. For breakfast, we had oatmeal. Not Quaker Oats stuff, mind you, but Oatmeal that came from freshly stone ground oats from Ireland, caramelized walnuts, fresh strawberries. Boy- these guys know how to eat! It was pretty incredible. I had to laugh when I saw the burgers cooking at the vendor booth.
On Friday we did our usual pre ride stuff- go for a nice warm up ride, check out the vendors and do a little shopping, say hi to lots of friends, and get vetted in. Judy was much more relaxed this year, especially when her horse checked in fine. Rebecca had a bit of a time, since a vet thought they saw something in a leg, but no, Moose was fine and okay to start. Strange thing this year- there seemed to be no line for the vets. I have seen a 40-minute line to get vetted in every year, but this year it seemed to go really fast. It’s still fun to be leading around one of the very few non-Arabians at this ride. Everyone stops to look at the spotted wonder and say, “Hey, it’s an Appy!” We got all our stuff ready for the ride in the afternoon and relaxed until the riders meeting, which only took 35 minutes. Wow! It was nice to have it be over quickly and efficiently. I remember these long, drawn out meetings in the past, now this one was nice and brief. We had our amazing dinner, packed up the crew cars, and went to bed.
Saturday morning brought more of that wonderful oatmeal and really cool weather. It was even a little overcast. We got everything packed up and got the horses ready, then sent our drivers off to do their massive crew thing. As Judy drove our rig out the dirt road in the dust, she saw a site that gave her a start; a full size truck with a big camper and horse trailer, laying over on its side! As in rolled over! Ouch again! That is certainly not the way to start one’s ride. Luckily there were no horses in the trailer, and no one got hurt, but the rig was kind of a mess. Apparently the driver missed a turn in the dust and went over the side and crashed. Judy said it just looked weird to see the thing sitting like that. In the mean time, Rebecca and I headed over to the start 30 minutes before the ride began, with me telling her how crowded the start is. Surprise, surprise, the start has been fixed. I want to give the ride management some real credit here, for what they did to the start. See what I wrote in my Tevis story in 1999?
“The Start! I was riding by myself this year, which helped me on Warpaint. We started moving up the road, and as always the pack would stop, then go, then stop, then go, etc. This would drive Warpaint nuts! Once we got going we only stopped a few more times, but I hate to think of what some of the riders were thinking of me and my sideways horse. Maybe Tevis needs a three tiered start, sort of like a foot race? Let the people who are planning on going faster leave at 5 minutes until 5, let the next group go at 5, then let the slower people leave at 5 after. Who knows, it might help the crazy congestion and dust of that start.
Someone was listening, because they changed the start since 99. They used a method of putting the faster riders up front and the middle ones in the middle. But more importantly, they used a long, straight hunk of the first road for the start area. It was way, way, better than in the past. There was plenty of room, there were no crowds and massive piles of horses, and when the ride started, it was absolutely mild. It was like the start of any other ride, except for the dust. Okay ride management, hats off on the start, now how about that water truck for the first three miles?
We rode off in the choking, blinding dust at a nice trot and really never had any delays or crowds at all. It was actually a nice trot to the single-track trail, where we headed up through the forest on our way to the first road crossing. Warpaint wanted to hurry, but he was being very good, considering the way he is. Our little group of riders formed up early- Mike Maul was riding my buddy Zayante, the legend horse. (That’s legend as in he’s one of the best horses ever, not the drug) Gary Fend was riding Cinabon, Er, sorry, Cinabar, with his daughter, on wife Laura’s horse Katrina. (Isn’t it cool how these wife’s do the crewing, and the hubbys get to ride? I better watch it here.) She must have had a great deal of trust in her dad, since Gary has been known to get lost on many occasions, and has even been known to frequent many lakes, streams, and water troughs. I think he even fell into the ocean once, but that’s an unconfirmed rumor. Maybe an urban legend? Brenda Binkley and Karen Botiani were cruising along together with Corey Soltau and a small band of riders. It was a long string of riders up the new single track trail that climbs up the south side of the Squaw Valley area. The pace up this climb was perfect this year- trot, walk, trot, walk. Just right. Warpaint was pulling hard, with Moose on his tail. The dust was not bad at all, thank goodness. The weather was cool already, and we were not even half way up the mountain! I saw those guys in tee shirts and thought “you are going to be cold pretty quick!” I hopped off Warpaint for a moment when there was a quick stall on the trail, since Warpaint is not known for standing still, especially on single track. (Here’s where Gary reminds everyone of when Warpaint and I took a dive off a steep hill at Oakland Hills in the same situation, but still finished!) Poor Brenda- the horses stopped, so her horse took the opportunity to pee. What a good boy. Here’s Warpaint moving all over the place, and here’s Brenda thinking she’s going to be the one responsible for Warpaint going over the edge again. No problem, I just hopped off and waited. Safety first. I wasn’t about to take a trip down that mountain again. Thanks, Brenda- I appreciate your concern for my “well behaved” trail horse. Off we went with no problems, until I got nailed by two yellow Jackets, right under my left knee. That hurt! I think I have been targeted by all yellow jackets in the state of California, but that’s another story. We continued up through Squaw Valley with happy horses, and my leg burning. A water stop at High camp let both horses drink well. Up and over the top past Watson Monument at 10,000 or so feet, but it was cold up there in the wind. What a view! Everyone should go up there and see that view.
Now for the fun part! The Granite Chief Wilderness! About 4 miles of the gnarlyest, nastiest, rockiest, treacherous trail there is. It seems to change each year, based on the work the snow does to the trail. This year it seemed rockier in places, but it was sure drier. The bogs were nothing, there was no snow at all on the ground, and even the cool little waterfall you have to ride up was dry. The nice thing about this year was we rode through it with very few horses around us. Mike and Zayante the mountain goat led the way through the snotty rocks. We got through with no problems and started down the rocky and dusty road to Lyon Ridge and a trot by. No problems, we let them drink and eat for a few minutes. We spent one of our “dawdling credits” here. You can’t dawdle in Tevis, since if you dawdle for five minutes every hour, it will cost you two hours over the 24 hours of the ride. We were ten minutes ahead of schedule, so we let the horses eat for a while.
We headed out on the rocky, dusty trail that headed to Cougar Rock, watching two fools ride up it together. They were really lucky they did not both crash down the thing. We rode on, and there in the middle of the wilderness, was none other than Teresa Cross, directing traffic at Elephant’s Trunk! She was helping one of the Japanese film crews do their thing. I’ll probably be on their shows, since they seemed to like the way Warpaint looked different from all the “solid color” horses. The next stop is the new vet check at Red Star Ridge, a pulse and go stop put here by the Vet committee to calm things down a bit before Robinson Flat. It was a non-event for me, since I walked Warpaint in and he recovered in a couple of minutes. The ride workers at this ride are the best! They come running up to you, asking what they can do. Water, hold the horse, sponge the horse, whatever. It is plush. We headed down the 7-mile dirt road to Robinson, trotting nice and slow the whole way, with an occasional walk up some grades. We hit the first real check, Robinson Flat, at 10:45, right on time. (I kept forgetting the ride started fifteen minutes earlier this year) Warpaint vetted through just fine, although the vet seemed to be doing a pre-purchase exam. That’s okay with me, but it took ten minutes! We went over to the blood donation station, since the Appy was enrolled in the blood and weight study. Then it’s off to the best part of the check- our crew spot. Long time good buddy Jean Schreiber (two for two at Tevis) always comes up here a day early and stakes out a great spot in the trees and treats the riders like royalty. She and Judy took complete charge of everything- it is so nice to just sit and eat while they do all the work. Crewing this ride is much more work than it sounds like. I was disappointed to hear that Moose was pulled due to lameness. He had a popped abscess on his left rear foot, right at the coronary band. Darn! Rebecca was out. She was disappointed, but took it well, and was actually very happy, since Moose had come through the toughest part of the ride and was in fine shape and eating very well. She had been having some concerns about his eating at other rides, but not here. Way to go, Moose.
The one-hour hold went quick, especially since I spent a quarter of it with a vet. After my egg salad sandwich, (that’s me cooking) I headed back out towards Cavanaugh Ridge, all by myself. Warpaint was pulling me and jigging as usual. I passed Kristin Bernsten, who was doing her first Tevis, then Karen and Brenda. I got down to the freeway dirt road and trotted along, where I caught up to Gary and his daughter. At least Gary was on the trail. We trotted along, making up some more time on the easy roads that led to Dusty Corners and a vet check. No problem- we zipped through and went on our way, down the neat single-track trail that takes you along some serious ridges above the American River. There is this one spot that you really don’t want to turn right at. It would be about a thousand feet down. Not for the faint of heart. It’s just one little turn, but if you look down, you think: “wow.” I was riding all-alone with the Appy just trucking along, him feeling stronger than he did in 99, if that is possible. This turkey is 17 years old now! We zipped through the trail and headed down the first of the big downhill canyon trails. This trail is so beat up it is almost like riding in the wilderness in spots. I led him all the way down to the river, where we went in for a drink and a cooling off. It was hot, but not nearly as hot as it has been in the past. We went across the infamous swinging bridge, letting a horse follow us that didn’t want to go across alone. Now for some uphill- I tailed the horse all the way up that climb to Devils Thumb. That’s a lung buster for sure, but Warpaint jams uphill at a walk, passing several horses on the climb. People would just watch him power by in amazement, with me dragging myself up along behind him. The water stop at the top is a welcome sight. He drank very well, as did I. A mile and a half to the next check at Deadwood, it is 3:40 pm, so far everything is perfect. We trot over to the next check and say hi to the in timers, Karen and Roberta from my riding club. I show up right at 4:00 pm, 15 minutes better than last time. Off to the check, Warpaint recovers, trot for the vet, and WHAM! He’s slightly off, left front. NO! Dianna Hassel is the vet, she knows the horse, and says, yep, it is slight, but it’s there. If this were the quarry, you walk in for a completion, but not with 45 miles to go.
DARN! I’m so depressed at this point, but that’s the way the ball bounces. The horse is eating everything in site and still has another hundred miles worth of fire going on inside. I dejectedly go over to the trailer waiting zone and get in line. Here comes Mike and Zayante, they get pulled for a slight lameness as well. Gary and his daughter come in, they are standing about 50 feet away. Gary sees me with a saddle-less horse and shrugs a “what happened?” look. I respond with a finger across my throat and a thumbs down sign. He looks back and raises his hands in a “What’s wrong?” motion. I take my two fingers and do a little trot / run in front of me. Gary grabs his ankle and asks with a shrug; “Leg?” I nod “yes.” He then takes his two hands and makes a “BIG?” gesture, then a “little” gesture with his fingers. I respond “little” with my fingers. He nods, I see the “sorry” in his gesture. Cool- now we are doing endurance sign language. Maybe we can create a new wordless horse riding language, or go scuba diving together.
My ride ended at Deadwood. I had to wait a while for a trailer ride out of there, which I wish I never got on. The driver thought he was in the Baja 1000 the way he was driving. The poor horses were being bounced around and were scrambling way too much. He hit a dip so hard the safety chains on the trailer popped off, I had to tell him to stop to put them back on. No matter how many times I told him to slow down (from the back of the truck) he kept racing. He had to lock up the brakes to avoid a head on collision with another rig coming the other way. I’m thinking, “great, 3 horses and five people killed by idiot driving off the side of a mountain at Tevis.” Ride Management- tell these guys to take it easy. The poor horses have been through enough, they don’t need that kind of treatment. We made it back to Foresthill and got cleaned up, then loaded Warpaint and Zayante up for the trip to the fairgrounds. That’s two pretty cool horses in that there trailer, I don’t mind saying. We got them bedded down in their stalls and all trooped over to dinner at Chevy’s to drown our sorrows in Mexican food. I sat there in the restaurant, looking out the window at the full moon. It was just about midnight, I should have been down by the river, through Francisco’s maybe. I closed my eyes and saw Warpaint and I trotting along on the trails down there, in the dark. He just cruises through the night, no fuss or bother. We only have a few miles to go, then…. Dinner comes. Darn again.
It was a rough time for finishers this year, with 91 finishers out of 225 starters. Yikes, that’s a lot of pulls. Gary made it to the finish, his daughter had to stop at Francisco’s. Brenda and Karen both made it, congratulations to both of them. Mike Tracy was 13th or 14th on his great horse Arron Moon, Joyce Souza finished well on Jim Bob. And special congrats to Barbara White- her 25th buckle! That is so impressive I can’t say enough.
I know Warpaint still has it in him, it’s just those darn 17 year old bones. We think it might be his foot this time, making it another short recovery for him. Will we try it again? Don’t know, depends on the horse. I’ll be back next year if I have to steal a horse to ride, but I’d much rather be back on our magnificent endurance appaloosa, Warpaint.
Nick Warhol
Hayward, Ca.