He settles, eventually. More or less. I ponder the rearing thing, and realize that the junior cowhorse bit we tried at home -- in a much lower pressure situation -- may be too much for him. It doesn't have much leverage, but it does have some. I'll switch at the check.

Speaking of the vet check, it's...interesting. Ledger stomps his hinds as if to threaten the vet (ACK!!!). Or is he just annoyed by his boots, like Jammer tends to get when we're standing still? Speaking of standing still, Ledger doesn't. I apologize to the vets, who are very understanding of my first-time-pony woes. Ledger proceeds to run me over during the trot-out. 

Okay, so there's room for growth. I swear we practiced ahead of time. We'll practice more. And we'll leave his buddy home next time, because that seems to be where all his brain cells have gone.

At least he gets all A's.

He eats. I find a mullen mouth twisted wire D-ring snaffle and make the switch. Mr. Sweaty brings me food to eat as I change both my boots and Ledger's. He drinks. I drink, though not the beverage I might have liked to enjoy. Just water, alas. 

And then we're off. In a bubble, thank goodness, no horses in sight. We bob and weave our way out of camp again, then hit a steady trot as Starfish's hollers fade. Ledger is still pretty wound up, and I'm dismayed to catch up with a group of riders just a couple miles along. A few more come up behind us, compounding the potential for overexcitement. Oh well, he has to learn sometime!

I stay aboard for more of this loop, but still walk plenty. Ledger does not lead nicely. He wants to GO! I get tired of his bad manners ~ not something he's displayed at home, but we all know rides bring out new behaviors! ~ and start making him back up the trail every time he gets rushy in hand. He does a lot of backing.

Some strangers on a four-wheeler ask, "Aren't you supposed to ride him?"

"Ride him?" I say, "I'm lucky he doesn't make me carry him!"

It's an old joke borrowed from an old friend, but it still makes me smile. Actually, I've smiled most of the ride. (Hike. Whatever.) I went into this knowing I'd probably have my hands full, and I'm content to deal with the situation as it develops. I'm not in a hurry. And for all Ledger's fire-breathing nonsense, I'm really loving what I see. 

Back to the trail. By mile 20, I have decided that if the junior cow horse bit was too much, the mullen mouth isn't enough. We need a happy medium. Where's Goldilocks when you need her?

Though Remi has come a long way, she still has an occasional out of control, high spirited Arab moment when she wants to go flying down the trail and ignore her brakes. So I was thinking "no way in hell with my anxiety can I ride this horse by myself with endurance riders zooming by in all directions right?" But, I signed up anyways hoping that just maybe I would get a wild hair and JUST DO IT!
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So the day comes to load up and go to Broxton. It was 30 degrees and misting with winds blowing 20mph. A year ago, I would have never even tried to load her in those conditions because she would rear up and bolt out backwards. Well, Remi decides she’s going to try an old trick.

​Anticipating I would give up like I’ve done in the past, Remi spun around in the trailer, hit her head, and bolted out of the trailer. Except this time, before allowing myself to get anxious I immediately sent her back in. It took me over an hour to load her up but I FREAKING DID IT and didn't once allow her high energy to affect me. Once in the trailer she settled down and chomped on hay quietly for the next three hours. FIRST WIN for the weekend! ​
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As soon as we pulled in camp Remi turned into a fire breathing dragon spinning around in the trailer, screaming, snorting, and pawing at the sides of the trailer to the point of making my entire trailer rock back and forth. She made quite a scene!

I somehow remained calm...how I'm still not sure. Maybe from all those times watching Elise work with Remi seemingly unaffected by her crazy. We found a good parking spot to set up camp but because her behavior was seemingly escalating, I wasn’t sure if it was safe to get her out so I called Elise for help. I did not want to reward her bad behavior by letting her out before she settled. Elise came over and calmly let her out and reassured me that she would settle down if I just walked her around and stayed calm, which I did.

The last 5 miles of our ride was AMAZING! Remi went out on a loose rein, she stopped to eat grass with horses cantering by, and drank from the water troughs. She finally figured out that it was ok that the other horses were leaving us.

Sure enough, the second, 25-mile loop went off without a hitch. Halfway around, black clouds rolled over to drench us with rain and pelt us with hail, but the storm passed on a rush of wind and we arrived at the next hold with reasonably dry clothes and happy horses. Acey again vetted with all A's except a B for gut sounds, which I knew would rekindle as soon as she had a chance to dig into some much-desired feed. Indeed, she ate and drank well and continued to look content and eager to move on.

Only 12.5 miles to go.  Home free, right?

Sure...until we mounted up and started walking out of the vet check, just as someone lifted a big water tub directly behind Acey. It wasn't too close behind her -- the person didn't do anything stupid -- but Acey's ranch-raised brain isn't used to all that human activity.

A replay ensued. Bolt, attempt to pull up, buck. Stay on...stay on...stay on...come off.

This time, I landed on my back. Again, I hopped up and back astride before Acey seemed to realize what had happened. She was still shaking and water tubs were still being loaded, though, so I got back off and led her a short way down the trail before mounting up again.

Yeeeeesh.

I'm pleased to report that the rest of the last loop went fine. No more lost boots, no more spooks, no more unscheduled dismounts.

Linda kindly kept Ted an extra distance back, since Acey was a bit shaken, and we'd picked up a junior at the hold because her sponsor was pulled. As we rode, I had time to ponder the connections between Acey's spooks -- always something from behind, always a bolt followed by major bucks when reined in. I formed my theory about the bucking be a panic reaction to being constrained. I began planning to teach her a single-rein stop (duh), and decided that if she bolted again, I would let her run a bit if possible and pull her up with pulsing instead of firm reins.

We all returned to camp in good spirits. Acey's energy remained high and she earned all A's again, though I could tell by a hint of unevenness in her gait that she was finally getting tired. I couldn't blame her! It was after 6:00 and she'd never travelled anywhere near that far before.

All things considered, I was downright proud her. All day long, she was nothing if not game. She covered almost the entire ride, including the rocky 2nd loop, barefoot in back, and never took a bad step.

Best of all, she had fun.
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So we have a couple issues to work through -- hoof protection, behavior when spooked, excessive nervous energy in camp -- but, all things considered, my hopes for the wee little firecracker are higher than ever.

The second of the two loops features the real climb. Up and up and up and up and up!  We trot much of it but walk some as we follow a creek bed, then a gulch, up from the sage desert to where the lupines grow. Near the top, we take a short detour to visit a water tank that fills from a slow spring; Karen knows it from prior years, so our horses get an extra drink without having to add more than a few extra steps to the ride. Lucky horses. It's really hot now. Sunscreen stings my eyes.

Finally, we reach the top. We'd be thrilled, except that we know what's coming. The long lollipop. And I do mean long. Lots of rolling hills of the variety that tend to slow you down unless you want to beat up your horse's legs. Looooooooong lollipop. Lots and lots of rolling hills. We ride all the way out to the Emmett highway before circling back, then have to go past the quickest route toward camp and come down the long way to add even more miles.

It's somewhere in that last stretch that Karen exclaims, "This ain't no lollipop -- it's an all day sucker!"

She's right. Boy, are we glad when we finally drop into the valley and hit the homestretch!  Jammer knows where we are and trots in strong, all day sucker notwithstanding. Good horse.

The timers cheer us in and congratulate us on our turtle placement.  "Ummmm...."  Uh-oh.  We can't have turtled. We know for certain (thanks to lollipop trails) that there were riders behind us when we came into the hold. Nobody passed us on the second loop.  Something has gone wrong.

We pull out our maps, discuss the issue with management, and figure out a likely scenario. It appears that the three riders behind us missed a turn on the second loop, which brought them into camp too early, without having covered all the miles. Drat. The ride manager heads over to their trailers, where they are already unsaddled and changed into shorts, to discuss their options.

Meanwhile, Jam vets through with top marks. His pulse is low and he looks fantastic. The vet suggests we try for BC, but Jam's trot-outs aren't spectacular (training oversight, totally my fault!) so we decline. In hindsight, maybe we shouldn't have. Ah, well. Maybe next time.

Management re-appears to let us know that the mistaken riders have decided to head out again and finish the miles. They'll trailer out part way to save time, ride the missed section, and earn completion only. That puts me and Karen in 8th and 9th place, with a ride time of 8:38. It's dang hot and I feel badly for those poor teams that have to go back out, but I'm impressed that they've decided to do it. Real endurance riders do what it takes instead of throwing in the towel.
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Back at our trailer, Jam drinks more water and dives into a pile of hay while we riders find a scrap of shade and some beer. First 50 done! It was a tough one, but Jam made it feel easy.

Yep. Sure do like this horse!