Showing posts with label Wildwood Mistral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wildwood Mistral. Show all posts

"I Would Have Thought They Would Have Been Lined Up!"

Posted by Sharon Labels: , , , , ,


     I first started planning a trail ride in the Rainbow Mountains of Tweedsmuir Park in 2009. I asked two couples to go with me but several weeks before departure date in August, one couple backed out and the second couple was waffling. Plans went sideways anyway when wildfires closed the park. In 2010, wildfires again closed the park and I shelved the whole idea until last winter, when a young man I had given riding lessons to contacted me. He asked if I would be trail riding in the summer and if he could go with me. I told him about the Rainbows. "We'll do it," I said.

     After our conversation I brought up all the information I had on my computer – notes, maps, photos – and started making plans for a ride in August. Some time in the winter a second person approached me about riding with me. I thought I had a plan B but she soon decided it would be too much for her.

     As the months passed and still no one confirmed that he/she wanted to ride with me, I branched out. I asked two or three friends but due to commitments, costs or lack of interest, no one took me up on the offer. A Facebook post hinting at a once-in-a-lifetime trail ride adventure yielded a couple of "I would love to go with you's" that fizzled out. If I was going to see the Rainbows on horseback, I would be riding alone. Determined, I proceeded with my plans. I studied maps carefully and decided on a route but since I had not ridden these trails, I could not be sure my timeline would be accurate. I had originally planned a four day ride when I thought there would be two or three of us but I decided three days would be enough by myself. For safety reasons, I bought a DeLorme InReach so I could stay in touch with family and friends. I watched the weather forecast for the best possible three or four consecutive days and finally settled on August 19-21. I would be riding Mistral, a 6 year old mare who had been on only one trail ride (Where she was lost in the wilderness for five days. See Lost in the Potatoes) and Legacy would be the pack horse.

     I drove to the trailhead on the afternoon of the 18th, settled Mistral and Legacy for the night with hay bags and myself in the camper of my horse trailer. The next morning, I saddled and packed up (sounds fast but in fact took me quite a while by myself), slung a back pack on me with emergency items (in case I got separated from the horses) and my camera and headed into "unknown-to-me" territory.

 

     A sign at the trailhead warned of bears – no kidding! I had belled Mistral hoping the steady clanging would ward them off and, for the first time in my life, I had bear spray but I knew it would be a wreck if we came across a grizzly. Mistral, especially, was on looking for something to happen. I will never know what she saw on her five days lost in the wilderness last year but it's safe to say she saw grizzly. The experience changed her. I knew she was having déjà vous moments.

     I followed a rocky trail along what might be East Branch Creek with no difficulty though light forest sprinkled with fireweed with very little change in elevation. Mistral was fresh but the day was warm and sunny and I was relaxed and eager with anticipation. I woke from my reverie with a jolt when Mistral leaped into the air. (This was the first of a few times on the ride that a lifetime of riding saved a serious wreck – I stayed in the middle of the horse!) At first I thought Legacy's lead rope had slipped under Mistral's tail but that was not the problem. A stumpy tree had scratched her belly and apparently she thought something had bit her! I might thank her for the wake up call though because I discovered my oilskin coat, tied behind the saddle, had fallen off. I had to back track and pick it up (almost back at the trailhead).

     A sign (almost missed it because it was laying flat on the ground) indicated the junction of Octopus and Crystal Lake trails. I turned right to Crystal Lake.The unmarked trail wound around through the trees and over small streams for a few kilometers. I was tracking the trail on my GPS but was very conscious of not losing it in the bush. A few times I had to look closely as there had not been any recent horse traffic. I also worried about the bogs and once I stepped Mistral into one. Fortunately, she came right out and I found a drier way through. According to the GPS, we gained about 700 feet to a semi open area and, a short while later, a small lake where I stopped for lunch.

     The weather was perfect – sunny but not too hot – and, since I had skipped breakfast, I wolfed down a sandwich and coffee from the thermos. It was here, for the first time of several that I wished I could share this moment with someone. Instead, I sent a message on InReach that I was okay.
 
Lunch break
 After lunch the mares and I followed a sometimes faint but reasonably easy to follow trail with ever amazing vistas opening up all around us. The semi-open terrain was much more to my liking than the trees and I was beginning to see where I was going and what was ahead. A few cairns marked the hard-to-read trail and once in a while an orange ribbon was tied to a tree. I felt like I had a better chance of avoiding a grizzly encounter when I could see more around me.


I knew I should reach Lester's camp before long and had no problem recognizing it when we did. It would have been a great place to camp had the timing been right as it is sheltered and boasts a bear locker and a toilet (open air kind), water and grass near for horses. I tied Mistral and Legacy, finished my coffee, checked the InReach and took a few photos.

 
     I am going to try to describe this experience now but words will no doubt fall short. First, it is rather humbling to be so insignificant in such vast wilderness, which could be unsettling but in fact for me is deeply peaceful. To be surrounded by nature, indeed, wrapped in it, is therapeutic in a way that multiple visits to a psychiatrist is not. The stress is simply washes off.   Combined with that, though, is vulnerability -  I am at the mercy of the elements I so love and admire. I am never more aware that my horses are my legs and how much I need them.
     It is the responsibility when I ride alone that eventually exhausts me mentally – I am 100% responsible for 100% of the elements of the ride 100% of the time. That means I must find the trail, stay on the trail, keep a keen eye out for possible problems and/or wildlife, keep the horses safe day and night and take great care to not be thrown for any reason. That being said, seeing that pristine lake, that sparkling stream or that snow-capped peak for the first time is a feeling like no other. It is a privilege.



     I stopped for the night at a little lake that had grazing for the mares. I would have liked to ride farther but according to information I could glean from internet sources there would not be a place to camp for several kilometers. I saw that horses had been tied at a small clump of trees so I tied Mistral and Legacy and put my little tent up. Although I have in the past hobbled my horses to self graze, in light of the problem last year and the fact that I was alone, I did not. Thank goodness the flies were not too bad at the edge of that lake where the grass was! I gave them a half hour, ate, and took them back for more before tying them up for the night. Both were belled to scare away bears. This is when the trouble began – the mares would not settle down!


 
     I cannot say how many times I got up in the night to check horses. Finally, I hobbled both. I knew there was more chance of them escaping if they were agitated and that truly worried me. Mistral had been on high alert all day, no doubt remembering her "lost" time in the bear country last year. And they were probably cold and not completely satisfied with their dinner. For whatever reason, they trashed my sleep. (I did appreciate an awesome night sky, though. The stars really are brighter when you are closer to them!)
 
And I was cold even with long underwear, sweats and my oilskin coat on top of the sleeping bag. Then I remembered the foil "emergency blanket" that had been in my back pack for years. (I don't think I ever believed it would work!) What did I have to lose? I opened it and wrapped it around me. Gradually I felt heat - wonderful! Around 5:00 AM, I slept for an hour or so, comfortably warm for the first time in the long night.

I woke to a cloudy sky, quiet horses in their hobbles and ice on the water in the basin. I needed coffee! I downed a couple of cups, then grazed Mistral and Legacy. Then came the arduous job of breaking camp and packing up – by myself. My aching shoulder didn't help – lifting the boxes on Legacy especially – but I got it done.
 
I had had lots of time to think in the long hours of wakefulness. I had planned a circle ride going to Crystal Lake, then Rainbow cabin on this day and back via Octopus Lakes. I knew now that I might not be able to get back to the trailhead in one day from Rainbow cabin, in good part because it took me so long to pack up in the morning. I could take an extra day though if I let my people know at home with an InReach message.  But my shoulder was getting progressively worse. What if I could not pack up? And the weather was changing. It worried me that the horses were so ready to leave me too. If they ever got loose… A bear walking in to camp would mean a wreck that could result in me being horseless and I was pretty sure there was even more possibility of bears where I was headed – down in to the MacKenzie Valley. I decided the sensible thing to do was to be happy with what I had done and try to stay safe. I would head back the second day.

Not before I had seen Crystal Lake though. I calculated that I could go forward to Crystal Lake and still make it back to the trailhead. It would be a long day but if I didn't stop much...

It was cold and windy. Whereas the first day I rode in a tank top, this day I rode in underwear and my oilskin. As we climbed to the barren highlands, the wind blew harder. The sky was threatening rain but thank goodness we did not get wet! Of course the cold wind jazzed up the mares and they wanted to keep moving. I didn't want to get off because I didn't want to have to mount multiple times with backpack, camera and my damaged shoulder. Once my cap blew off, necessitating a dismount I had not planned. I jammed it in my pocket and went bare headed so I wouldn't have to get it again.

The scenery was incredible but all photos I took from Mistral's back. What I would give for a photo of the mares and I with this beautiful back drop, impossible of course by myself. There was not a tree to tie to so I could handle the camera without the horses. I regret that I could not take advantage of such wonderful photo opportunity but thankful for those I did get. Another time? Maybe.
 

    
     The trail across the highlands was really not there at all. If it had not been for the many cairns (thank you, hikers!), I would have been lost. I swear even Mistral started looking for the next cairn! I did find Crystal Lake and, for a moment, considered continuing on through Boyd Pass and down to Rainbow cabin. I really wanted to see that cabin. However, for all the reasons aforementioned, I knew I should turn back. I was incredibly tired and two more days with unknown problems….

 
Crystal Lake
     Mistral was a handful when I turned around! Apparently she thought we should "get out of Dodge" as fast as we could! For almost all the way back to the trailhead, I could not ride her on a loose rein. Poor Legacy, trying to keep up.
 
     I stopped where we had spent the night for lunch, then headed down the trail again. I had tracked our trail with GPS but I didn't need it. I was reminded once again how well a horse remembers the trail. Mistral knew exactly where we had travelled the day before, even on which side of a tree we had gone. We arrived back at the trailer around 6:00 PM - tired, a little sore but healthy. The mares thought it looked like home.
 
     As I untacked and unpacked, I thought about the ride and what all those that I had asked to go had missed. Again, I wished I could have shared the experience with a friend or two. And I thought about the short-but-to-the-point statement of a man whose business it is to take groups into the Rainbows when I told him I was alone because I couldn't find anyone to go with me.
 
     "I would have thought they would have been lined up!", he said.
 
     Indeed. But we both have to remind ourselves that priorities are not the same for everyone. For me, this is the ultimate experience but for others, it is not. Or is it just not worth the risk?

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Lost in the Potatoes

Posted by Sharon Labels: , , , , , ,

          Not a leaf stirred. Not a bird chirped. Not a cone dropped in the forest in those moments we rested on the steep, rocky trail. But for the steady rhythm of Legacy's heart against my leg, the soft expanding and contracting of her rib cage and the occasional licking as she moistened her mouth on the bit, the stillness would have been absolute. Grateful for the presence and strength of my little bay mare, I waited for her to air up so we might continue climbing.

      The adventure had started well. On August 8, 2014, Lynne and I happily tacked up at Tatlayoko Lake for a 3 ½ day pack trip into the Potato Range. Lynne rode her good gelding, Free. I rode Mistral, my 5 year old mare and led Legacy, packed. All three are well-bred, trained reining horses.
 
Tatlayoko Lake
We planned only to ride to the top and overnight in a rancher's cabin. The three-hour plus ride, an elevation gain of over 3000 feet, would test the condition of our horses but the weather was perfect, the horses healthy and Lynne and I eager and excited. By nightfall we had grazed the horses, feasted on Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes and tucked ourselves in our sleeping bags on the wood benches. The comforting soft clang of the bells on my horses assured us all was well with our companions.
 
August 8 - Mistral and Legacy when just after we arrived at cabin
 
August 8 - Free (at back), Mistral and Legacy grazing at the cabin
     The next day, under warm sunny skies, we rode the historic Potato Trail to the south end of the Potato Range, taking in ever-changing, spectacular scenery and stopping for a late lunch above Fish Lake, our destination for the night.

Mistral and I leading Legacy with our supplies

Lynn and Free in Gopher Basin

August 9 - Above Fish Lake
 We set up our little tent beside the lake, grazed the horses, and then tied them to trees since there were not any tall enough to high line. We shared the meadows with a few cattle on their summer range but, thankfully, the grizzly, cougar and wolves that inhabit the area didn't make an appearance.

 
August 9 - Horses grazing as we set up camp at Fish Lake.
 
"Super Moon" rising over Fish Lake
       Lynne went to bed early but I stayed up to watch the moon rise, one day shy of full "Super Moon". I was not disappointed although the photos I took don't live up to what I witnessed. Once, during the night, wild clanking of the bells woke us and we leaped out of the tent to see the horses, obviously startled but still tied, staring into the bush. At 6:00 a bellow from a bull woke me again. Apparently we were camped on a trail he wanted to take. I shooshed the cattle back but, awake now, grabbed the camera and took a few photos of steam rising from the lake while I waited for Lynne to get up. After an hour or so, I decided to graze the cold and hungry horses. Since Free would not have been happy if I left him tied, I turned him loose with the shank dragging as Lynne had done the night before (because his hobbles were soring him), hobbled and belled Mistral and lead Legacy away from camp.
August 10 - I wonder if that's the cow that started all of this?
The horses had grazed a half hour or so when it happened. A lone Charolais cow skirted the trees above the grazing horses, distraught and looking for her calf. I saw her only a few seconds before Free who, for reasons known only to him, trotted briskly to the cow.
 
I just had time to think "That isn't a very good idea," when the cow burst out of the trees. Free turned and bolted. Mistral, in her hobbles, lunged after him. Lynne, now up, could only watch as they raced through the trees above our camp and over the hill. I made my way back with Legacy, now agitated that the others had left, quickly saddled her (and yes, I was plenty upset because I know how bad this scenario can be...) and rode down the back trail. When I didn't see tracks, I returned and searched areas around the lake.  Failing to find any trace of the pair, I packed for a longer ride. I suspected Mistral had broken her hobbles but Free's dangling lead shank, sure to get tangled in brush, worried me.
 
August 10 - Lynne took this photo of Legacy and I returning from our first searches. We now know Mistral and Free did run into the trees, then bushwhacked until they got on the trail a few km north.

This shows the vastness of the area Mistral and Free were lost in.

"I'll have to ride down the back trail," I told Lynne." If I don't find them down the trail a bit, I won't be back tonight." Lynne had an InReach, a satellite communicator, and after a crash course in using it, she gave it to me since I was tracking the horses. I told her there was a cabin a short distance away and how to get there but she said she would stay at camp in case the horses returned.
 
"I hope I see you in a couple of hours," Lynne said. She didn't see me for more than two days.
 
I picked up Free and Mistral's tracks (and the mark of the dragging lead shank) about three kilometers down the trail and all the way to the open meadow west of the cabin where we had spent the first night. I felt hopeful – obviously they were headed back to the trailers. I checked the cabin and when they were not there, started down, about a two-hour ride. My optimism evaporated. I didn't see another track.
 
When I got to the trailers, I immediately looked up a phone and made some calls. That's how I met Len and Joanna Knight, who live at Tatlayoko Lake. Then, and in the following days, they provided a base contact, a phone and a lifeline to local connections.
 
I was convinced Free and Mistral had turned toward the lake (and the trailers) when they came off the trail into the meadow at the top but somehow had missed the trail down and tried bushwhacking. If they did that, Free's halter shank could easily tangle in the brush and stop them. I hoped, though, that they would find their way back to the trailers during the night. When they were not there in the morning, I saddled Legacy and headed up to the top again. Much of the trail wound through heavily forested terrain, grizzly habitat. Once Legacy abruptly halted, alert, ears forward, and I yelled. A loud crashing in the bush confirmed what I suspected – a bear was close by. After that, I sang "The Bear Went Over the Mountain" for a kilometer or so
 
Legacy, not in condition for this much riding, was tired. I stopped several times to let her blow. Those tender, bonding moments alone in the bush encouraged me to "dig deeper" for strength – if Legacy could do this, so could I.
As I came out of the trees at the top, I eagerly looked for two sorrels grazing the meadow where I had lost tracks the day before. Nothing. I knew I must rest Legacy for a few hours so I continued on to the cabin and unsaddled. There, I communicated with the Knights and friends from home on InReach to coordinate search efforts. My first priority was rescuing Lynne, who had already spent one night in a tent in grizzly country. I had been told before I left the trailer that Alex Bracewell (Bracewell Alpine Wilderness Adventures), who took guided tours into the Potatoes from the other end, would pick her up (a huge relief) and was waiting for confirmation of that. Again with the help of the satellite communicator, I learned Jordan Grier and Pat Jasper would arrive the next day to assist us in our efforts to find our horses.
 
August 11 - I took this photo when I searched the slope to the crest above Tatlayoko Lake
 
August 11 - I took this photo from the cabin the night I stayed there.
I searched several places in the area in the afternoon and evening, still convinced the missing pair were close since they had not taken the trail down. Then I grazed and watered Legacy and tied her to a tree by the cabin. Even though I had not found Mistral and Free I felt somehow close to them on the mountain. I hoped they would come to Legacy in the night. 

August 11 - Legacy tied by the cabin.
My strength was starting to wane a bit now. I forced myself to eat and drink but I didn't have much food and wasn't sleeping well. After a fitful few hours on a wood bench in the cabin, I made the worst coffee ever on the wood stove and rode the area again – still no clues and no response from Legacy either, who I counted on to alert me if they were near.
 
Jordan and Pat arrived around noon with extra horses. This is when I found out Lynne had not been picked up – now two days in the wilderness alone! With this information, we quickly ate the lunch they brought and continued down the Potato Trail to Lynne's camp by Fish Lake.
 
August 12 - Jordan and Pat arriving with extra horses.
 Lynne was not at the camp when we got there but a note confirmed that Alex Bracewell had taken her to the wilderness cabin I had told her about. We packed up the camp on Legacy and I rode one of Jordan's horses to the cabin.
 
My reunion with Lynne was bathed in relief. She assured me she was fine but had been worried about me.

"I thought you were laying along the trail somewhere," she said.
"You had the hardest job," I told her, "Just waiting with no information."
Lynne said the cows comforted her. They were around the tent the first morning but there was not a cow in sight when she woke up the second day.
When Alex picked her up, he cleared that up for her. "Did you see the big grizzly?" he asked.
"No," Lynne said, "But I guess that explains why the cows disappeared!"
 
Lynne had handled her time alone very well. She told me she kept up a camp routine to keep busy; she studied the little cow herd and their habits; she watched the fish jump in the lake and counted tadpoles (Thousands…). I know she would have much rather been searching with me but she knew how to survive.  Still, the situation was dangerous and one of many times luck was on our side in those trying days.
 
 From Bracewell's cabin we descended to the lake again – at the south end this time, a two hour ride, loaded all five horses in Jordan's trailer and arrived back the north end at 10:00 PM. After unloading Legacy, out rescuers drove home to Hanceville.
 
Lynne, Sharon, Legacy and tack were now back where we started – without Mistral and Free. The next morning we re-grouped.  Get the word out – posters, contacts up and down the road, phone calls in case the horses came down somewhere else – and keep searching. We tried to hire a small helicopter to fly the area but most were out fighting wildfires. Mike King was flying over every day and he checked the Potato Range every time. We talked to a Clifford Schuk, a local rancher, about tracking and he agreed to help. One thing we knew for sure – we were not going to quit! Legacy, however, needed to rest. I had a commitment at home so we decided I would take Legacy home and Lynne would stay with Len and Joanna at the lake. And this is when the full force of the last few days hit me – when I was going to leave the lake without Mistral. Backing the rig out of a tight spot with well-intentioned people yelling directions triggered a melt-down. – everything from "I can't do anything right!" to "I know she's dead!". I cried all the way to Tatla Lake, the only time I cried during the entire ordeal.

On the 14th, Lynne and I talked several times on the phone. I organized things at home with the plan to return on the 15th. Clifford took his quad part way up the trail, then walked. He told us Mistral and Free were trying to return to the lake (and our trailers) but were probably stopped by grizzlies foraging on the slope. This was the area I had stayed in for 1 ½ days with no sign of them but I suspect Free's lead shank was tangled until he broke it, which may account for the fact they didn't come to Legacy when we were there. Lynne and I agreed we had to get back up to the area as soon as possible! Lynne was trying to rent/borrow a horse in the area and said she would start up in the morning if I was not there. With that information, I packed up as soon as I could, loaded Legacy, and drove back to Tatlayoko Lake, arriving at 1:00 AM so I would be there when Lynne was ready to leave in the morning.
 
I rose early and packed up Legacy to go up the mountain again but there was no sign of Lynne. I had no means of communicating with her so I left a note and pointed Legacy up that mountain for the third time. This time I buckled the cow bell around her neck. It would serve dual purpose – to ward off grizzlies and to alert Mistral and Free, who were familiar with the sound. I was prepared to stay on the mountain two days to search and just be there for them to come to. The long term plan was to organize a group to go for a week if that did not work. (Later, on Facebook, a friend commented "I knew you would never give up.", which is how I felt but I suppose the time could have come when we would have to...)
 
I stopped several times on the ascent to listen and even veered off the trail to search for tracks in the trees on the slope. When I reached the open meadow where I had lost their tracks before, Legacy showed no sign of interest in anything besides putting one foot in front of the other, the bell clanging in time with her footfalls. Then, to my right, I sensed movement. I turned my head and what I saw I did not believe – two chromed-up sorrels racing through the brush to Legacy and I! Heads high, manes flying, they tore down the long incline with abandon, with joy and, I think, with much relief. I knew as they ran toward me that they were all right. My chest swelled, my heart pounded and all I could say was, "Oh, my God!" over and over. It is vision that will be forever etched in my memory.
 
I took this photo on the 11th from almost the exact spot Mistral and Free ran from when they came to me on the 15th. Where were they? In the bush with Free's shank hopelessly tangled in trees?
 Mistral and Free were a little buzzed. They milled around Legacy as if they couldn't stand still. Free no longer dragged his long black shank and Mistral's hobbles were gone. The bell was still around her neck though and they both still wore their halters. Free had some marks on his face from the halter, testimony to his struggle with the dragging lead shank and both had scratch marks from trees on their sides but they were okay other than being super alert. I snapped the shank on Mistral's halter and, with Free following, started down the mountain. About half way down I met Lynne (on Sabina Harris' nice little mare) and Clifford.
 
"They're okay, Lynne," I hollered when I saw them ahead of me on the trail.
 
The inner strength Lynne had called on for the preceding five days weakened as she dismounted and approached Free. On Legacy, with Mistral in hand, I watched her attempting to keep emotion in check. I lived that moment with her, a moment we had prayed for for five days.
 
We are acutely aware of how lucky we are to have these special horses back unharmed and are grateful for the many people who helped us achieve that - kind, caring Chilcotin people who put their own lives on hold to help us. I am also grateful to my patient, gutsy mare for carrying me close to 100 km searching for Mistral and Free in unforgiving terrain. Legacy has always been special to me since she is the fifth generation of a strong maternal line of Wildwood horses but the connection is deeper now. If I close my eyes, I am on her back on the Potato Range again. I can feel her muscles under me. I can smell the sweat. I can hear the clacking of her shoes on the rocks. And I can see her head bobbing, ears flicking. It's a memory I cherish.

 

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Do They Just Happen?

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I was talking to a friend, a horse trainer, on the phone the other day and he made a statement that I have been pondering ever since.

“I’ve come to the conclusion,” he said, “that futurity horses just happen.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you have to do the work, of course,” he explained, “But regardless of breeding, conformation and training, there are only a select few who will be great futurity horses and it's hard to predict which ones those will be.”

He couldn’t quite put his finger on why the great ones were great but he thought an undefinable “something” made superstar futurity horses. We discussed the subject a little more and I came to the conclusion he might be right but I think that "something" is the six inches between the ears - the horse's, that is (although it's a given that the space between the rider's ears should not be a vacuum either). Training a horse to competive level for his futurity year as a three-year-old is a huge  commitment on the part of the rider and horse. Of course, the horse does not really commit to the goal - he is talked into it. The staggering mental demands on a young horse in a futurity program cannot ever be underestimated and only the mentally strong horses will accept and even thrive with the challenges. For me that is the undefinable something that separates the great from the good.

I'm just putting the first few rides on my two-year-old filly, Wildwood Mistral. Is she a futurity prospect? Absolutely. Will she be great? Possibly. With a good training program and three older brothers performing opening numbers for her (Running With Wolves, Wildwood Liberty and Walking With Wolves - all futurity horses), she has every chance of excelling, but I don't know for sure 'cause, as my friend says, "Futurity horses might just happen."

Feb 3, 2011 -Wildwood Mistral trying out the saddle and bride.

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A Clean Sheet of Paper

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Last week I brought my two year old filly, Wildwood Mistral, in to begin her training under saddle. She's a quality filly, a reining prospect, with the conformation and pedigree to make a excellent reiner. Still, she won't excel with those attributes alone, as good as they are. Without a solid program of training, she might never enter a reining pen - or be as good as she can be! Although I have handled her since birth (in fact I attended her birth), and I cannot trivalize the importance of any and all experiences she has had up to now, Mistral is entering a new, crucial era of her life - under saddle. There will never be another more important time in her life. Mistral's performance career is a "clean sheet of paper" and what is written on it will be there forever. The responsiblity is mine and, as I do every time I start a colt, I am mindful of writing only good stuff on that paper. It can be difficult to "erase" negative experiences, so I try to keep that from happening. I would go so far as saying the first 3-6 rides (or works) are the most important ones in training. It's kind of like writing a novel - without a good beginning, the story fails.

Since Wildwood Reining Horses is a one-woman operation and everything depends upon me staying healthy, I must also be aware of my safety. Starting colts is, by its nature, risky, but I minimize those risks as much as I can. The first day with Mistral, I put her in a stall (with a buddy in another stall), brushed her, picked up her feet, rubbed her all over with the saddle blanket and eventually saddled her and cinched it down. If she had been at all uncomfortable with the saddle, the training session would have ended after I pulled the cinch up snug around her belly. I would not have cinched up. But, since she did not seem to mind, I cinched tight enough to ensure the saddle would stay should she fuss. She didn't. I left her saddled in the stall for about an hour, unsaddled her and turned her out. I had written something on that sheet of paper and it was all good...

The next day, I bitted Mistral before we left the barn with a snaffle with no reins attached, led her out to the main arena, lunged her in the snow. It didn't take long before she wanted to quit. At that point, I led her to the round pen, which had not been used all winter and had two feet of snow in it. There I saddled her again (with some difficulty on my part in winter clothes, with a hurting shoulder and in the snow). Normally I would have had her on a lunge line at this point to control any bucking if it should occur. Since she could not move much in the stall the day before, I knew she might buck when she broke into a trot or lope. I would prefer to "shut down" any bucking but since I was awkward in the snow, I deviated from my usual program just a little. I did walk her a few steps, then took the shank off of the halter, stepped out of the pen, closed the gate, and picked up my video camera. Through the rails, this is what happened.
After this very short "explosion", Mistral did not buck again. In fact, she followed me everywhere in the pen.


I left her saddled and bitted for a couple of hours, then led her to the barn, still saddled, took the tack off, brushed her and turned her out. Day two. Another entry on that sheet of paper and again, with the exception of the bucking, all good stuff. She had moved around a lot with the saddle, had stayed out of any wrecks (me and her!), carried a bit in her mouth and, most of all, learned that she had nothing to fear.
Since these photos were taken, I have worked Mistral once more. I saddled her in the barn, led her to the round pen, free lunged her a little, stood at both shoulders and brought her head around with the rein a few times, then lunged her again. She did not spook, buck or jump. She's on the program. That clean piece of paper has something written on it now and I like what is there. I'm going to do everything possible to continue to "write" positive chapters.

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Everything Happens for a Reason

Posted by Sharon Labels: , , ,

Since it's Thanksgiving, I would remiss if I did not remember what I have to be thankful for. Having just returned from a less-than-stellar weekend at the Canadian Supreme, where my financial plan went up in flames at the horse sale and Wolf's only run in the Derby did not place, it could be easy to wallow a little in my disappointment. I admit watching everyone pull away on Sunday night while I camped alone by the barn, discovering the next morning that I had driven away from a box containing four wool saddle blankets when I re-parked my outfit for the night (the blankets were gone the next morning) and driving 1100 kilometers home with only my thoughts for company, snuffed out any euphoric thoughts I might have had but I "dug deeper" and started driving . Monday evening I stopped at Jim and Lorene's in Clearwater to break the trip up.

"I gave one filly away and brought the other one back," I told him. We unloaded Wolf and Mistral (the gorgeous filly I didn't sell) and it was then that Jim said something that I have reminded myself of ever since.

"Everything happens for a reason," he said. "There's a reason you still have Mistral."

The next day I, as I drove the last 350 kilometers home, I felt better. I thought how glad I was that I did not have mechanical issues for the entire trip; I re-lived dinner with my children and grandchildren in Red Deer (definitely a high-point!); I day-dreamed about the trail rides I would take in 2011... And I thought about the fall work waiting for me. I tried not to think about the lost saddle blankets.

I am thankful - thankful that I can still see my way to feed my four-legged friends for another year; thankful that, though I can't work the long days I used to and I "sore up", I can still manage the strenuous physical tasks (like cutting firewood, putting in posts, and cleaning pens); thankful for family, friends and neighours; and thankful for the honest Albertan who picked up my box of saddle blankets!

I didn't stuff myself with turkey or even see anyone yesterday, but I ate roast beef and garden fresh veggies in front of the fire and talked to my daughter on the phone. At the end of the day, more posts were in the ground, more potatoes and carrots were out of the ground, more pens were cleaned and Sapphire (my two year old) was back under saddle. Now that is something to be thankful for!

As far as Mistral goes - I'm still waiting for the reason I still own her, but I know there is one!

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One Good Mare

Posted by Sharon Labels: , , , , , , ,

In 2002, I wrote a short article about Duchess, a mare I had just lost. I called it "One Good Mare". One good mare had founded a dynasty of good horses. One good mare had been with me 34 of her 36 years on this earth. One good mare had left an impression on me that would last a lifetime. When I penned that little piece, I thought the phrase would apply to only one mare in my life. I might have to rethink that.

I bought Peppy Del Cielo in 2000 as a yearling and promptly named her Prima (She would always be first!). She was a untamed little thing and we had a few arguments. She didn't want to be caught and she had no intentions of letting me pick up her feet. Several days and mutiple patient lessons later, I could do anything with her.

Everything about Prima screamed reining - her breeding, her conformation, her willingness to please. I had great plans for her . . . but it was not to be. In the fall of her yearling year, she developed a neurological condition caused by a parasite. Thankfully, with drug treatments and many hours of my own brand of physical therapy, she regained her coordination and I trained and rode her but, after careful consideration, I decided not to show her. She had not made a complete recovery and I was not confident that she could stand up to the rigor of reining shows. I turned her into a broodmare. She would take the long way to prove herself. She would have to produce horses that perform. No problem.


In my barn now are two stallions: Running With Wolves and Walking With Wolves. In another barn in Alberta, is another - Wildwood Liberty. All three are extremely talented, good-looking reining horses, two proven and one a promising prospect. Running With Wolves has a 2008/2009 performance record; Wildwood Liberty entered the pen last year to earn a performance record; Walking With Wolves will be competing in reining futurities this year. Paired with three different sires, Prima produced all three. All three are extremely talented. All three will be showing this year. Next year, all three will be eligible for reining derbies. Picture it. Three stallions out of my mare competing in 4,5,6 year old Derbies in the same year! Can it get any better? It might...

If statistics mean anything, Prima's 2009 filly, Wildwood Mistral, has a 100% chance of excelling in the reining pen. I hope she sells to someone who will promote her. But then again, why wouldn't they?

I didn't breed Prima last year (go figure...), but in 2011, with three of her progeny competing in reining derbies, she will drop yet another well-bred, drop dead gorgeous, athletic foal. She deserves the same tribute as Duchess because . . . she is one good mare.

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