Keeping It Real

The Elusive Boot Fit

At last it was time to fit Roo's Gloves. Out came his boot bucket and the rubber mallet.

Roo's boot bucket, containing all his boots

When I first converted Roo to barefoot nearly three years ago, he wore an #0.5 on one front foot (the low heel side), an #0 on the other (the high heel side), and #00.5s on the back. More recently, after languishing in the paddock doing nothing for the last couple of years, his feet were now closer to both being #0.5 in the front, and #0s in back.

Before going further, I held the bottom of an #0.5 boot against the underside of his foot. I position the back of the boot level with his heels and then peer all around. By doing this "eyeball fit", you can see if there is any flaring that's likely to cause problems, if the toes are too long to get the hoof snugly into the front of the boot, and generally if you're even close to having the boot fit.

Side-to-side fit looks pretty good - very snug.

But looking further forward, I can see I'm going to have to work to get this boot on. It could be that if I re-evaluate his trim, I may find that his toe could be shorter.

In Roo's case I could tell that it was "sorta" going to work, but it was going to be tight - and even tighter given that this pair of #0.5 Gloves had Powerstraps attached to them.

Because I wanted my friend to get the idea of how to put the boots on, and because I knew this one was going to be a real struggle, I opted to put on a #1 Glove first, just to ease her into the whole enterprise.

Gaiter Flipping
First I showed her how to flip down the gaiter as far as it would go. New gaiters, being stiff, tend to not flip down quite as far as they can, resulting in a "poofy area" closest to the boot. If you're not careful this bulge gets pushed down into the boot as you're trying to fit it and stops the boot going on properly. However, as the boot gets worn in, the gaiter will flip down much more easily and this will be less of a problem.

A new boot gaiter is "poofier", so doesn't fold back as flat as the gaiter on the older boot shown behind. This "poofiness" tends to get rolled down into the back of the boot when you're trying to push it on the foot. Eventually the gaiter will behave itself and make boot application much easier.

To begin with, even the #1 boot wouldn't go on. Part of the problem was the aforementioned bulge which immediately disappeared down the back of the boot, necessitating its removal, re-stretching down of the gaiter, and starting again. It's worth mentioning that if we had been fitting the #0.5 boot, this would have been less of a problem because there wouldn't have been extra room in the rear of the boot for the bulge to fit down where it didn't belong.

Grungy Hoofwall
After some wiggling and puffing, I realised another problem was that Roo's hoof had a little dried lumpy mud glued to it which I cleaned off using the edge of the rasp. Our area is blessed with clay soil that sets like concrete. This may work fine as hoof-expander when dry, but as soon as we cross a creek, it'll turn into slime and have the effect of greasing the hoof. Not great.

Rubber Mallet Usage
The boot (especially a new, unflexible boot like the one we were using) tends to get jammed on the quarters, so you have to wiggle it side to side to ease it over this wide part of the foot. Once you're close to getting it on but it still isn't quite going on all the way, I had my friend give it a couple of whacks to the toe and then a couple to the heels to seat the boot.

To get best results when you hit the toe, angle your rubber mallet so that you're pushing the boot towards the toe, not towards the underside of the foot.

Fast-Fingered Gaiter Flipping
As you let the foot down, it's best to flip the gaiter up before it gets to the ground. If you don't, the horse will always stand on the gaiter and the back of the gaiter will always fill up with small rocks/mud/twigs, even when the horse is standing on a completely clean surface. It is written. 

Feeling the Toe
Once the boot is on (or you think it is), you can push on the bottom-front of the boot to see if there's any space behind it. If there is, your boot is not on all the way and usually a couple of whacks with the mallet, or a few steps trotting the horse will seat it properly.

Evaluating the Fit
As this point you evaluate the fit again. Is the V at the front stretched slightly, or is it loose? In a perfect world, that V should be stretched slightly, showing that the whole of the boot wall is tightly hugging the hoof wall. In reality, if you have a horse with flared walls (common when you don't trim them as often as you should... <inspect fingernails>) or more particularly, a flared toe, you may find that the lower part of the boot is fitting very tightly, but the upper part is gapping somewhat (this is a problem I fight constantly with Uno's over-enthusiastic toes if I don't stay on top of them). Sometimes the addition of a powerstrap can help this problem. And sometimes it'll make it so that it's impossible to get the stupid boot on, especially if you're using a brand new one, so you might need to wait a few uses before fitting the powerstrap.

Either way, rest assured that the more you do this, the easier it'll get. Not only will the boots become more flexible with use, your boot-applying technique will also improve and you'll struggle less. The use of the rubber mallet may become a thing of the past as your boots stretch to fit your horse's feet better, and you get a better shape to his foot as his transition continues.

With a #1 boot on Roo's foot, my friend was quite pleased with her handiwork. She felt that the boot was a good fit. On the other hand, I wasn't quite so sure. Knowing that in the past Roo wore a #0.5 on this foot, I couldn't tell if the #1 Glove seemed to be working because because I'd allowed his feet to grow too long or if his feet had actually expanded in stature. My gut feeling was that although the #1 boot would probably stay on for most riding, if we got into an extreme situation (foot twisting, rough terrain, steep hills), the boot would probably come off.

Pulling out the #0.5 Glove (with powerstrap), I worked hard and managed to smoosh it onto his foot. As anticipated, it was a very tight fit and would have been much easier without the powerstrap's "help". So my choice for him would be to keep him in an 0.5 (and remove the powerstraps).

And this is where a fit kit is worth its weight. You may find that you put a #1 boot on your horse's foot and are very satisfied with the results and think that you have the best fit possible. But if you then put on a size smaller, an #0.5, you may realise that that is the perfect fit.

Similarly, by holding each size of shell against the bottom of the foot, you can readily see how the boot is going to fit.

If you really fight to get a boot on, yet the fit isn't great, could it be that the horse's toes are too long? This is something I struggled with for many weeks with Roo's back feet in the early days. With what I felt were 'reasonable-length' toes, his rear boots constantly came off on steep hills. By holding the next size smaller boot against the bottom of his foot, I was able to see how much toe needed to come off to get a really good fit - and also able to see that the amount of toe that needed to come off wasn't much. I shortened his toes and the boot losses stopped.

Listening to people talk about their boot losses despite "a good fit", I often wonder how good their fit really is and if by trying a smaller boot and/or with a small adjustment to their trimming, they'd be able to get a "perfect fit".

(...or alternatively it could be that they have horses who move like gumby and deliberately twist off their boots just to annoy them.)

Putting Theory into Practice

It's always better to demonstrate to people how not to do things. I feel they learn so much more by observing others' mistakes, than for everything to go perfectly smoothly and voila - a trimmed horse with perfect boot fit.

My friend arrived a day earlier than I expected (I'm still confused as to what year it is) and my schedule and her jet-lag meant that we only had one evening for me to demonstrate the fine art of putting boots on; deciding if the fit was correct; how to figure out if the fit wasn't correct; and how to get the stupid boots off again if they were a tight fit (which is ideal... until you're trying to take them off).

Unfortunately, looking at the available hooves for this demonstration, it became apparent that keeping on top my trimming schedule over the Holidays and subsequent sickies hadn't been high on the agenda. All of the horses were long and all were in need of a trim. Hmm.

Being the easiest to trim (he doesn't fidget much), and having not put boots on him for a while (he's been growing out a rear foot abscess since October), Roo became our victim for the evening's entertainment.

I cleaned out his foot and carefully showed my friend how long he was, how his heels weren't supposed to look like that, how his toe needed to come back about half an inch, and how, yes, even thought he had a wonderful toe-callous, it wasn't close to being in the location it was supposed to be. It definitely became an exercise in "do as I say, not as I've done".

After trimming his first foot with a running commentary of what I was doing and why, I turned her loose with the rasp, the stand, and Roo's long toe on the second foot. Once the squeaking had subsided, I was able to guide her through the technique of reducing toe from the top - long vertical strokes perpendicular to the ground designed to whack off overgrowth.

Here Uno is demonstrating long toes, while I demonstrate the removal of them. Notice how I'm keeping the rasp perpendicular to the toe and rasping straight down towards the ground.

Her initial reaction was to try and shape the toe, but I explained that all she needed to do at this point was get rid of all the extra. I explained - as my farrier had explained to me years ago - the rasp is a two-handed tool and that using long strokes would remove more hoof than small, prissy up-n-down zips: you're not performing a manicure.

Working my way around the toe. The rasp is a two-handed tool.

How did Uno's toes get so long? He's been off since Thanksgiving so his feet haven't been getting the attention they need. Gloves prevent you rasping the skin off your knuckles when enthusiastically removing over-abundance of toe.

Once I was satisfied with the amount of toe she'd removed, I had her turn over his foot and work on it from the bottom.

There are few things more entertaining than watching a complete beginner trying to squeeze under a horse, with a foot between their knees, attempting to use an unaccustomed rasp in a competent manner. As anyone who's ever struggled to trim their own horse knows, when you're starting out you wonder how the heck anyone is capable of this. You can't even figure out how to get into the ludicrous contorted poses necessary to get the job done. Your body doesn't distort in that way, and the horse's leg won't bend in that manner either. Within about 30 seconds, your back is going into spasms and you lose all coordination and balance. And then you realise with dismay that you've only rasped one quarter of one foot.

This is all normal.

It takes a while for your body to learn hoof-trimming yoga (with such poses as "Horse Rips Foot Away" and "Can't Quite Get at That Overhanging Frog Flap") and learning to use the tools is a lot like learning to use chopsticks the first time - the food doesn't go quite where you expect it to.

After a good amount of laughter (not shared by Roo, who by this time wanted his supper), I guided my friend through taking the heels back, removing scraggly bits (technical term), and how to roll the edge of the hoof.

Keeping the rasp at the correct angle seems to be one of the things that is hardest for the beginner to get right - manipulating an alien tool while concentrating on what you're doing, how you're doing it, and whether or not you or the horse are about to fall over is tricky.

But at the end, we had a rasped foot. It wasn't perfect and there were a few things I went back and tidied up afterwards, but it was completely serviceable.

(Continued tomorrow)

--
Lucy Chaplin Trumbull
Sierra Foothills, California

A couple of weeks ago, a friend visited from England. She has just decided to take her endurance horse barefoot and compete him in boots. It sounds like she has found a sympathetic trimmer who is interested in what she's doing, so her plan is to schedule him regularly to do the main trim, while she makes touch-ups in between. As far as I can tell hoof boots are still far from the norm in Britain, with most "professionals" convinced that having horses barefoot just won't work and advising their clients accordingly <wry face>.

Initially she picked my brain over the internet...

What Equipment Would She Need?

My List

• A pair of gloves (v. v. important to avoid knuckle rasping)
• A hoof pick (I like the ones with the bristle brush on the back)
• A good rasp (blunt, rusty rasps are no fun and result in much puffing and frustration)
• A sharp narrow-bladed hoof knife (wide-bladed ones are designed for draft horses as far as I can work out)
• A hoof stand (this is a lot of money to invest in, but believe me, your life will be so much pleasanter with one than trying to do this without. Without you’ll be sad and tired and struggle)
• A rubber mallet

What Boots Would She Need?

She was a little confused by the difference between Glue-Ons and Gloves. I explained that although they were essentially the same base-model, Gloves were what she would be using for conditioning and events because of how easy they were to use and quick to put on and take off. You'd only really use Glue-Ons if you were doing a 100 miler, a multi-day, or practising the gluing technique. Once those puppies are on, they aren't going anywhere without the application of some brute force and a wide-bladed screwdriver.

What Size Boots Would She Need?

I explained about measuring the foot accurately to figure out what size boot her horse would need and then I explained that Murphy's Law dictates that your horse's feet will never fall within the confines of the "correct" measurements for a specific boot size, so EasyCare came up with the "Fit Kit".

Say your horse's foot measures something close to a 0.5, but not quite according to the sizing chart. You order the Fit Kit for 0.5 and EasyCare will send you shells in sizes 1 - 0.5 - 0. You can spend a happy session with your horse pushing shells on, walking him around, taking them off and repeating the performance with the other sizes until you are satisfied with what size boot you think is the best fit.*

* this is often not the size you think it's going to be. Case in point, none of the Glove sizes were close to fitting my pony, Jackit's, feet on paper, but in reality once I figured out the right size, his boots don't seem to go anywhere.

To give you an idea of what I was working with - I have small hands. I was fairly convinced that no Glove size would work for him, but it turns out 00.5 and 00s fit him fine.

You get to keep the Fit Kit for 30 days because everyone knows the second a horse item arrives on the premises, it guarantees instant horrendous weather/sickness in human operator/sudden unexpected business travel.

Unfortunately, not living in the US, my friend doesn't have access to fit kits, so she had (hopefully) the correct size Gloves shipped to my house, and I also sent her home with a couple of old boots the next size up 'just in case'.

She was ready to move on to the next stages - basic trimming and boot fit.

During November, Uno and I were on the final 30-day period of his suspensory rehab, at the end of which--provided all went well--he would be pronounced "healed".

November's instructions were to "add terrain" so I was to gradually introduce hills, uneven footing, etc, instead of having to find creative ways to "trot for six continuous minutes on the flat" (no mean feat when you live in the foothills of the Sierra). It finally started to get fun.

Throughout his rehabilitation I have been riding him booted in front and barefoot in back. This was mostly because we have to negotiate my long large-rock-gravel driveway, followed by a mile or so of gravel road every morning. The few times I tried him un-booted, he'd invariably get a rock lodged up the side of his frog, causing funky-lameness and a small melt-down on my part until I discovered the culprit. Wearing boots is easier on both of us.

The most interesting thing is that during this time he has been wearing exactly the same pair of Gloves on exactly the same feet (right/left). And from that I've been able to see the wear pattern from how he travels. Although he's wearing down the medial (inner) part of the toe quicker than the distal area, I was pleased to see that the wear is even on both feet. He's no longer travelling like a banana which was a problem last year.

This pair of boots are like old friends.

I did the math and if you add in the two 50 milers at the Washoe Valley endurance ride in May, some Tevis Trail pre-riding, the 25 miles of NASTR 75 that we managed to complete before he injured himself, followed by the 450 miles of "little and often" over the last 120 days, these boots now have approximately 600 miles on them - nearly all of the last four months on abrasive gravel roads and pavement. And they are looking pretty good.

(In the same time period, if he'd been shod in steel shoes, we would have gone through four sets of shoes. Hmm.)

His left Glove (on the right in the above photo) still has the remains of the yellow duct tape we plastered on it way back in May during the the Washoe Valley ride when Uno's flared toe was causing gapping at the top of the boot and he was scooping in sand, which in turn was filling up the front of the boot and causing it to come off. Unfortunately at that point his foot was too big to squish on a brand new boot with a PowerStrap so we added the duct tape assuming that it might stay on for the next 20 mile loop. In reality, it took about 500 miles for the tape to fall off - not bad for a "quick fix".

However, after six months it's definitely time to add a PowerStrap as I can now push this boot on with one finger. It's a good fit, but not a tight one and I anticipate the upcoming varied terrain will put more stresses on the boots than trotting on the flat has*.

(* note it didn't - final month of rehab now completed -- and I still haven't gotten around to putting on the PowerStrap).

Now we are into January, Uno is at the "healed stage" I can finally turn him out with his buddies, which in turn means I get to take a break from daily riding. Whilst I loved it when I was out there every morning, it really didn't balance well with my 60-hour work weeks. Time for me to take a month of vacation before gearing up again for the 2012 endurance season.

Lucy Chaplin Trumbull
Sierra Foothills, California

This year the 44th Annual Virginia City 100 was held on September 17th. Sadly, because of Uno's leg injury I wasn't able to ride but did the next best thing - crewing. The temperatures were very mild - lows in the 50s overnight, with highs in the 80s with a light breeze - a welcome respite from the continuous Nevada wind that so often accompanies this event. NV rides are always very laid-back affairs and VC100 is no different. There's great cameraderie amongst the volunteers, many of whom have been helping out at (or riding) the ride for decades. Riders come back time and again because this is one of the very best 100-mile rides in the west region.

Virginia City itself is an old silver mining town perched at 6,200' on the side of a steep pink hillside. The main street is at the top with the side streets step-cut progressively lower into the slope below. The start of the ride at 5 am is on the boardwalked C Street outside the Delta Saloon (1875), home of the "Suicide Table" - one of the more peculiar starts to an endurance ride. From there riders wend their way north through town, past the old cemetery (the finish line) and out into the surrounding sagebrush-dotted mountains towards Lousetown (really).

This is a course that has a bit of everything to offer riders and their horses. After 20 miles of up and down rocky foothills, you negotiate the old Toll Road four-miles down Geiger Grade - a 1,700' drop - to the first vet check at the "Market" located right on the outskirts of surburban Reno.

Looking down on Washoe Lake, around 45 miles into the ride

From there, you undergo an hour-long test of your horse's sure-footedness through what is effectively a rocky creek bed: the remote and seldom-used Bailey Canyon. After a climb over Jumbo Grade and a trot-by to check the horses for soundness at Washoe Lake, riders climb the first of many typical NV ascents - gradual, yet brutal in their neverendingness. But the views from the top overlooking Washoe Lake are stupendous. This section contains the infamous "SOBs" - three short but ridiculously steep V-shaped drops in the trail that many riders negotiate on foot, tailing the uphills. Once you make it over the ridge, you then drop down Ophir Grade back into Virginia City for the 51 mile check.

The next 26 mile loop takes you back out into the Virginia Range, skirting the remains of old mining buildings which appear eerily as if they came from an apolcalypse movie. You climb again to the backside of Mt Davidson and follow the ridge up to 7,600' before dropping once again down into Virginia City for the 77 mile vet check.

The final 23 mile loop, usually starting around 11 pm unless the rider is a front-runner, takes you along the relatively flat "Long Valley", past herds of wild horses to the Chalk Hills, which glow in the moonlight, through another "out check" at the Cottonwoods (an old corral) and back up the final rocky clamber to the cemetery outside Virginia City.

This year's winner, Rachel Shackelford riding Ray of Hope, arrived at 11 pm, with best condition winner Lori Stewart on LA Bandit arriving just 17 minutes behind them. But this is a 100 mile ride where it's common for riders to take almost the full 24 hours to finish: the final 8 riders all came in after 3 am.

One of the things NV rides are known for is rocks. Although VC100 isn't easy, it is very doable. While the elevation gains are over 20,000', very little of the trail is super-technical provided you can take your time and pick your way through the footing. Racing it is another matter and many riders are defeated by the rocks. Good hoof protection is a must regardless as to where you hope to place.

May stylin' in her new rear Glue-on Wides

This year I was aware of seven riders who were using hoof-boots in one form or another, five of whom completed the ride. There were 25 overall starters - a much lower number than usual due to the proximity to the rescheduled Tevis (three weeks later) - with 18 finishers.

Fire Mt Destiny at 40 miles - with this completion he reached 5,000 miles (AERC)

Gina Hall, completing her 12th VC100, finished in 6th place on her outstanding big chestnut Fire Mt Destiny, who himself was completing his 7th VC100 (his 14th 100 mile completion). They also completed the Triple Crown this year (NV Derby 50, NASTR 75 and VC100 with same horse and rider).  His completion earned Destiny his 5,000 mile AERC milestone - 86 rides with no pulls.  He wears Original Easyboots over shoes.

Nicole Chappell and Golden Knight getting ready to leave the first vet check

Nicole Chappell was riding her striking buckskin friesian/arabian cross, Golden Knight, with size 2.5 Glue-Ons on the front. Completing the Triple Crown (including winning and being awarded Best Condition at the first phase - NV Derby 50 - in the spring), they placed 8th overall at VC100 and won the "Pioneer Division" (riding the entire ride with no outside help), securing Nicole her 19th VC100 completion - she promised herself as an 11 yr old that she would finish the ride 20 times by the time she was 30. She didn't quite make it but is close. This was Golden Knight's second VC100 completion.

Nicole Chappell and Golden Knight arriving at Washoe Lake "trot-by"




Rushcreek Okay gawping at a flapping flag shadow,
raising his heart rate during the 51 mile vet check

Another horse who always competes in boots and is hard to miss is Rushcreek Okay - a huge grey arabian who eats like... well, a horse, and sports size 3 Glue-Ons on the front. This was Okay's second VC100 finish with rider Carolyn Meier and this year they also completed the Triple Crown. After a warm-up performance last year (Okay tends to be a nosy thing - gawping at everything around him), Carolyn was thrilled with how well he looked after himself this year - getting progressively better and better at each vet check.

Okay showing off his flexibility and range of motion
the morning after completing his second VC100



Okay's great big size 3 feet




Tami and May prepare to leave vet check #1

A fourth Triple Crown booted finisher with a 13th place at VC100 was Tami Rougeau's Amatzing Grace - and she'll no doubt tell you more about their exploits in a separate post. Suffice to say May has been a challenge to fit but her Glue-Ons held up beautifully for this ride.

Nina Cooke and Gryphen at the road-crossing water trough at about 20 miles

Rounding out the "booters", Nina Cooke and Gryphen finished their first 100 mile ride in glue-ons.

Pat Chappell resetting her horse's shoes at 51 miles Two of the riders in the Pioneer Division had shoeing problems during the ride. One was sadly pulled at 77 miles after having to abandon her Pioneer status by using the services of the ride farrier - to no avail: the horse was still lame. The other, Nicole's mother, Pat Chappell pulled out her shoeing tools and reset both back shoes on her horse at 51 miles. Remembering how tired I was last year at 51 miles, I can only imagine the toll it would take on a rider to have to do this. Last year at that point in the ride I'd lost both front glue-ons (a product of trying to stuff too small a size boot on Uno's expanding feet) but it was a very simple remedy to just pop on my spare Gloves. My biggest "problem" was removing the gobs of glue from the hoofwall (I admit, I wimped out and asked my crew, Renee Robinson, to do it for me). During another memorable 100 mile ride, Roo did an impressive side-spook, tweaking a back shoe in such a way that it stuck out sideways by half an inch but wasn't going to come off without serious tools. Luckily for me the incident happened when my regular farrier was also riding the 100 miler and he was just ahead of us and able to reset the shoe at the vet check - but that was the last time I wanted to be at the mercy of a shoer (or the hope that a shoer would be available) during a ride. You put so much into a 100-miler that to have it all go down the drain because of lack of control over your horse's footwear is heartbreaking. Yes, sometimes I lose boots, but I can still fix the problem.

This was my 7th year either volunteering, crewing, or riding Virginia City 100 and it has become a highlight of my year. The ride has changed little over the years - it started in 1968 (two years after I was born) and the fact that it is still going is a testament to just how special it is. It should be a must-do ride for any 100-mile rider - and preferably many times over. 

(p.s. my husband Patrick points out that the Ferrari Club of America holds the annual Virginia City Hill Climb - spectator-able from the ride camp - the same weekend as the endurance ride. Just saying.)

Lucy Chaplin Trumbull
Sierra Foothills, California

Patrick and I spent another three days luxuriating up in the Sierra two weeks ago. We slept late, lounged around reading for most of the day, and then went out and rode 6-9 miles in the late afternoon - just about perfect.

Of course the weekend was not without its hiccups. On Friday evening Uno dumped me while we were out on our rehab ride. It was partly my fault - the day before I'd given him the day off, reasoning that he'd be in the trailer for 2.5 hours so that could count instead. All that it actually did was fill him with joy and enthusiasm so that within five steps of our first trotting session he began to leap about, leaving me dolloped in the thick soft grass (how glad was I that I opted to ride him in the meadow, rather than the hard dirt road in camp?). Friday Fergus also undid his halter and we glanced up to see him wandering off.

On Saturday, while trying to scratch his head, Uno managed to catch a back leg on his overhead tie rope and flip himself over, wrapping the soft cotton rope around his pastern in the process and trussing himself up like a goat. Thank goodness for quick release snaps and for cotton ropes. He has a rope burn and is gimping around very pathetically, but will mend in time. Luckily he doesn't seem to have wrenched anything from thrashing around.

I've been using overhead ties for years and this is the first time I've had a horse get tangled up. No containment system is perfect, but overhead ties such as EasyCare's HiTie are quick and easy to use - and about as safe as you can make them for horses who's main aim in life seems to be injuring themselves. That said, I think I will be investing in another couple of Clips to provide more safety.

Sunday morning, Fergus also managed a Houdini escape involving unsnapping two quick release snaps and completely demolishing his cotton rope. I still have no idea what he did and how he did it, but with both Jackit and Uno tied to the trailer, he wasn't going to go far.

And on Sunday I also managed to fall off Jackit. Frankly I was surprised it took this long - there's not that much real estate to balance on. It wasn't either of our faults really - we were trotting along at high speed following Patrick and Fergus and there was a tree down across the trail. Jackit knew there was a new trail to the right to detour the obstacle and started to turn, only to realise that Fergus was still going straight. There was a moment of indecision on both our parts as to which direction we were going and I opted for right while Jackit chose left. He looked pretty shocked that I'd come off, while it just made me laugh. Falling 2' does give you bruises, but not a lot else.

Over the three days we managed to ride about 25 miles  (a miracle in itself, given how lethargic we were), including a really fun cross-country exploration. This wasn't preplanned - we'd originally just intended to ride across the meadow and through the trees to some lakes, but the ridge to the east beckoned and off we went. I felt a little badly because Fergus was only wearing Gloves on his front feet, barefoot in the back, and the barren volcanic ridge was pretty abrasive in places, but Fergus seemed to take it in his stride and didn't seem at all ouchy. Jackit's little feet were encased in Gloves all weekend - I just loosened the gaiters in between rides.

We even came across several patches of snow - quite odd for the end of August. Neither pone was sure what to make of it. Fergus approached with extreme caution, then promptly ran away.

On the last day, we again rode out towards the waterfall, as we had on our previous visit. This time we didn't go as far as the rock steps, but did encounter Jackit's arch nemesis - the Large Boulder of Death.  I'm unclear why this particular boulder is considered such a hazard, but we spent a few minutes sniffing it and insisting that he walk past it in a calm, adult fashion.

And of course the trail did require some clambering:

A great long-weekend - and now I'm home, I'm eyeing various sets of feet with dismay. How did they get so long?? Has it already been *four* weeks? Apparently so.

An attack on Hopi's rock-like hooves last weekend marked finally being caught up on all my feet (24 of them). And now that all the horses extremities are back under control I'm hopeful that I'll be able to maintain regular and sensible trimming intervals (best laid plans of mice, etc, notwithstanding <mutter>).

My "real job" work schedule continues to be bananas (this has been going on for well-over a month, so I don't think I can blame it on the full moon) so I've been taking the riding when I can - which has meant for plentiful night riding recently.

To say I've been enjoying the big fat moon would be an understatement. Uno continues with his daily rehab rides and Roo gets ponied along as a chaperone/confidence booster. They both went through a peculiarly (read "unnatural") mellow period last week. It seemed that night riding with a full moon gave enough light to keep them comfortable, but not enough light to provide items to spook at. Several times I even rode Roo bareback and ponied Uno, an activity I haven't done in over 30 years.

Predictably all good things come to an end and last night the moon didn't come up until we were done with our excursion. Both horses reacted to the darkness accordingly by leaping around at inopportune moments and treating the trash can at the bottom of the driveway (the same trash can they'd passed four times in the last two days) like a lurking eye-plucker.

Awk! Too much toe!!!

Uno continues to grow wodges of toe that need removing (remember, he's recovering from a suspensory injury so one of my prime directives is to keep his toes as short as possible to avoid stressing the ligament any more than necessary), but he's also living on rubber matting and his feet aren't exactly getting the callousing they need. As a result he was a little ouchy on our long large-gravel driveway this past week so I have been popping front Gloves on his front feet. And these doubled as anti-skid devices during his trash-can evasion techniques when we were on the only 100 yrds of pavement we have to negotiate. <phew>

On Friday my husband (who was working at home) very kindly offered to bring Jackit to the trailhead at Cool so I could squeeze in an after-work solo ride. Unfortunately Small Thing had other ideas and, although for once the traffic was light enough that I arrived on time, Patrick spent a happy 20 minutes chasing a giggling Small Thing around the paddock so they didn't appear until around 8:10 pm - sunset was a 8:05 pm. Hmmm. No matter - the moon was huge so I figured we'd ride until we were able and I could always hand-walk Jackit in if it became too much for him.

Small Thing is currently wearing a set of 00.5 Gloves on the front and 00s on the back. Even though his feet are still somewhat of a funky shape and I don't consider the fit to be ideal, they are working great. They take about five minutes to put on but the rush is usually to get them on before he poops and stands in it (a pattern I've noticed the last few outings). Because he's still green and excited, the poop that comes out is particularly squishy so even more pleasant (not) to have to work around. Quick, quick, get those boots on!

As it turns out, Jackit had no worries about being out alone in the dark. On the contrary, he seemed to think it was quite fun and even when we started to make our way back towards the trailhead, he tried to take all the turn offs that headed away from where we were parked.

To begin with, I kept us out in the open where the moon glowed down on us while the cicadas chirrupped and the bullfrogs boomed in the nearby lakes. His main objection was to the overgrowing star-thistle that was poking him in legs (planning to dig out some splint boots for him for times when I know we'll be in the thisle). After an hour or so, I opted to take a trail that he'd been on before but was much more tree-covered and narrow. He was less happy about this development (that, or he didn't like my singing), but even so he still managed to get us around a downed tree (that confused me - I didn't remember any large bush on that particular section of the trail) and through some thick brambles without incident.

We finished up around 10:15 pm - mostly driven in by my hunger (he'd been stuffing grass in the whole way so didn't have that problem). So much fun!

In fact, it was such fun that the following evening Patrick and I went out and rode at Cronan Ranch (another wide open area) until past 11 pm. Patrick doesn't particularly like riding at night but told me that riding when it's as bright as day doesn't count. The views along the river and up on the high ridge were just magical and I can't help but think how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful place and get to share it with our equine buddies.

(note, I admit it. The above wasn't what I was thinking last night during the trash can evasion activities. But you know what I mean).

Good times.

Lucy Chaplin Trumbull
Sierra Foothills, California

Late last night we pulled in from six days of horse camping in the High Sierra - tired, filthy, and with a laundry bag the size of a small car - but boy did we have fun.

This was Jackit's first camping trip and he took everything in his stride, travelling over 35 miles in five days - not bad for a little guy who only started in real work six weeks ago and effectively doubled his lifetime mileage.

The first couple of days, we rode barefoot. The trails close to camp were in a soft meadow and boots were totally unnecessary:

Small Thing gawps at the boulders in the meadow

Gradually, however, as we got further afield, the footing got rockier and by the end of Day Two I decided it was time to boot him to keep him comfy.

Fergus and Patrick

This development was apparently very well received. On Day Three we went out and did a solo-ride and Jackit did the best he's ever done - stomping through the rocks with much enthusiasm and trying to trot at every opportunity - regardless of the footing (something that was discouraged - I don't care how comfy you are, we still don't trot through rocks).

On Day Four, we did our longest ride yet - 10+ miles on the Pacific Crest Trail and surrounding dirt roads. 

Snugging up his gaiters prior to setting out on the PCT

This ride really stretched him, with both the footing and what he was required to do - clambering up and over granite boulders, not to mention several miles of on and off trotting - all done at 8000'/2400 m. I seemed to be the only one suffering from extreme puffiness - I'm hoping from the elevation, not from trying to keep up with Jackit.

Day Five was the crowning moment of proudness for me. Having enjoyed our solo ride so much, I persuaded Patrick to come with me to explore further along the same trail. The ride started interestingly when a large downed tree blocked our path, necessitating climbing down some rocks and detouring via a creek. Not a problem. The next few downed trees were simple enough - just crash through the woods to get around.

We met some hikers who told us they'd been "as far as the waterfall" and that there were "some steps to negotiate". Hah. A few mingy steps - we can do that easily.

The first rocky area seemed simple enough - just a quick reccy to figure out where the trail went and if we could make it OK. In our boots on the grippy granite rock, no problem. Then came the first step - about 3' down a 10° rock. Hmm. Jackit did this without hestitation, while Fergus managed to scrape a front leg a little.

The second step was just 1' down - no problem.

And then we came to the last one. Uh oh. This was more like 4' and wasn't nearly as straightforward. I figured I'd go down and then get out of Jackit's way, lest he try to jump on top of me (bin there, done that - got some good bruises). Predictably, both horses managed this maneuver very tidily and we continued down the trail, through a willow tunnel, over a couple more creeks, and negotiated a grove of aspen before deciding it was time to turn around - and go back up the steps.

As you can see from the photo, Jackit didn't have too much problem with the "up" part. In fact, when he came to the last/first step, he cat-jumped it and the look on Patrick's face was priceless at how gracefully and unconcernedly he did it. We unclipped our reins to make sure nothing would get snagged by mistake and sent the horses up the rocks on their own so they could figure it out in their own time. They were actually more interested in the eating of grass while Patrick and I stood around with wide, admiring eyes after each leaping session.

I have to say I'm not sure I would have asked the pones to do any of this rock climbing if they were barefoot (and definitely not if they'd been in steel shoes - talk about a recipe for disaster), but with the grippiness of the Gloves it was almost a non-event.

Once again, so very proud of my Small Thing and how far he's come in just a few short weeks. He may be barely 13 hh, but he's about the most fun you can have on a pone. A most excellent trip and we hope to go back in a few weeks - with luck when there are less mosquitos and biting horse flies.

Last weekend I volunteered at the local Dru Barner Fun Ride held just east of Georgetown, CA. They offer 5, 12, and 25 mile marked trails and all proceeds go back to the trails. Funnily enough, this Fun Ride was the first organized event I ever took a horse to in 1997.

On the main route, there are three locations where you have to cross pavement and two of them are ridiculously slippery if your horse is in steel shoes. They station volunteers at both spots to encourage riders to dismount and lead their horses across before remounting using the thoughtfully-provided mounting blocks.

Slipping on slick pavement is an activity I put very high on my list of "Stuff to Avoid at All Costs". A few years back I got to watch a friend's horse doing a skates-on-ice impersonation and they both went down. Luckily the horse was uninjured, but my friend had some interesting gravel adornments to his elbow, necessitating stitches. Not good.

This is, of course, one of those times when you can be smug in the knowledge that a horse wearing rubber boots or completely barefoot is A Good Thing.

I can think of several other times when I have been oh-so-grateful that my horse was barefoot. Many of them were pavement-related - for example that time when the friend riding behind us inadvertently knocked the wire fence we were riding alongside, causing Uno to levitate sideways straight down a 12' bank (I thought I was a goner) onto the paved road below. As we plummeted down, I knew he was going to do the splits at the bottom and it would end in tears - completely forgetting that he was barefoot. Result = non-event.

Then there's that mile-long stretch of pavement running through the middle of Foresthill during Tevis (premier 100 mile endurance event in the west). By then your horse has gone 70 miles and you don't want him falling down. Slipping here has cost at least one person I know of the chance to finish Tevis. In boots, no problem.

Another endurance ride I know of has a trail that crosses a paved road. To avoid having motorized vehicles accessing the trail, they have put tall logs across the entrance - easy enough for the horse to hop over  ...except that the hop lands you straight on the pavement, so equally easy to do the splits on the other side. In boots, no problem.

The short section of pavement we have to negotiate on our rehab ride.

While out on Uno's rehab ride down the lane a few evenings ago, Chili Dog startled Roo (who I was ponying), who in turn startled Uno (who I was riding), causing him to scootle forwards. In his scramble, his back feet slipped underneath him (a reaction I took to be another of his recent Trigger rearing impersonations <sigh>), but it turned out to be a non-event. Had he been in shoes, I suspect we would have been on the ground.

And there have been non-pavement related incidents when I was glad of bare feet.

About a year ago I made the mistake of trying to remove a fly mask from Hopi's head in the dark. He was already jumpy from some local visiting wildlife (mountain lion? bear?) and when I undid the velcro, he leapt forwards, running straight up over my body. I was pretty lucky not to be injured more severely - he stood on my instep, then my leg, clouted me on the back of the shoulder and then clipped the back of my head as he went over, causing my cap to fly off. But he was barefoot, so all I had were some nasty bruises. In shoes, I would have been a lot worse off.

Jackit tormenting Hopi

In another incident featuring Hopi, I was watching from the house when he double-barrelled Jackit in the shoulder and heard the crack from where I stood. Jackit limped away and I rushed outside fearing the worse. But it was nothing more than bruising and Jackit deserved it (he would delight in nipping at, then running circles around the other horses).

All in all, I would say I am pretty happy that my pones are barefoot - for my safety, and theirs.

This week Uno and I embarked upon Phase 2 of his suspensory injury rehab - once a day I have to ride him at a walk for 30 minutes on "firm, level ground". The 30 minutes a day is manageable, but the "firm, level ground" is a joke when you consider we live on top of a hill and our driveway is 300' long and goes down vertically about 120'. So we tiptoe down the driveway before reaching the relatively "firm and level" lane below. Despite being on stall rest, Uno has settled down and we are completing the rides with a minimum of histrionics (if you ignore the few days of leaping about). He goes for another ultrasound in three weeks time to check his healing.

Uno during the diagnosis-phase of his injury. He got very tired of being poked with needles.

Although I hadn't ridden Uno in a month while we were figuring out his diagnosis and just hand-walking for short distances twice a day, I have been riding Jackit the pony - and the juxtaposition of the two is quite amusing. Uno is about 15:3 hh, big, solid, square, with long graceful strides. Jackit is not quite 13 hh, with short, quick, busy steps, and very pointy on top - staying with him in that sweet-spot is quite a challenge.

Jackit and Fergus modelling their relative sizes

As far as the riding, I'm not used to this "little and often" concept. Usually if I saddle up a horse, we're going to be out there for a minimum of three hours. Dressing a pone up in riding clothes for 30 minutes is odd.

But while I'm in the habit of shorty rides, I've been doing the same with Jackit and it has been really good for him - a little bit of riding every few days without boots is hopefully toughening up his feet. He's still ouchy on rocks, but starts to accelerate as soon as he hits the hard-packed dirt. 

Last week he was fitted for Gloves. When Roo first went barefoot a few years ago, he wore 00s on his back feet. Once his feet started to blossom, he outgrew that size and I passed his rather tatty Gloves on to another friend. Her horse's feet also expanded and the 00s no longer fitted him either, so last week she passed them back to me. The Gloves are now completely sans toes, but hey, I need protection on the bottom of Jackit's feet not the fronts, so they will work fine.

I shoved the boots on his front feet and whilst I got them on and his toe sat neatly in the front of the boot, clearly they were not a good fit side-to-side. His hoof wall was bulging over the sides... alas, he's one of those dreaded short-toed, "Wide"-footed pones (new style of Glove due to arrive on the market later this year)(And sadly Easy Care won't be making the new Wides in Jackit's small size <sniffle>).

With Uno out of the picture for real riding for a while (his ultrasound results show a suspensory ligament injury which is going to require about six months of rehab to fix - so I have lots of hand-walking in my future), I turned my attentions to Roo.

Roo, realising the imminent possibility of having to actually work for a living, promptly stuck his leg in something in the paddock in order to produce a fat, scraped leg. No riding for him for a couple of weeks. Hum.

So I turned my attentions to Jackit, my Section B welsh pony. You may remember that Jackit was started last summer (see October 2010 blog entry), had the winter completely off (I wasn't keen on slipping around in the mud on a greenie) and hadn't been saddled since November. This week he got put back into work. I was a little leery to start with, not being sure what he'd do or how he'd react, but he performed flawlessly all week, acting like a grown-up and winning praise all around for his level-headed approach to life.

In fact, he did so well that by the end of the week he and I went on our first solo outing on the trail, ambling two and half miles along rolling oak-studded grassland, exposing ourselves to barking dogs, other horses, leaping turkeys, horse flies, mucky creek crossings and tree stumps. All of which he took in stride with interest but lack of alarm. To say I'm proud of my Small Thing would be a gross understatement.

Most of the work we did earlier in the week was on my gravel pad out back. The gravel is large, sharp and pokey - and Jackit was telling me he wasn't particularly comfortable. On the second day, I gave him a light trim, and interestingly, he was slightly less ouchy than before the trim - but still flinching if he stepped in the wrong place.

I got out a transparent plastic ruler and spent a happy 30 minutes in the paddock with him loose - trying to measure a foot, write down the number, and then chase him down for the next measurement. He thought it was most amusing, even when I felt the need to thwack his departing bottom with my ruler. Eventually I got him measured and was interested to note how similar the measurements were to the ones taken eight months ago. Evidently his feet are fairly static.

A fit kit will be ordered soon to find out which size boot best suits him - his feet still don't fall into any sensible range - but in the meantime I'm vascillating between what to do. At present we are only walking and are unlikely to be going further than a few miles at a time. Under that workload, wear on his feet isn't going to overtake hoof growth, so I've no worries on that count. In theory, the more I ride him on rough footing, the stronger his feet will become and the more comfortable he'll be - but I don't want him to get sour from sore feet. It's a chicken and egg situation. What I'll probably resort to is something I did with Uno in the early days of barefoot transitioning - alternate between putting him in a pair of front or back boots to give him some relief. But first he'll need boots, right? Get ordering, Lucy.

Normally I wouldn't mind so much. Giving Uno time off between rides is part of our usual protocol. But we're due to do NASTR 75 on June 4th and I was hoping to do that ride a little faster than our standard putzing-along-at-the-back speed - which would mean conditioning a bit harder than usual to ramp him up for that. My reason for wanting to go faster is that the NASTR ride was to be our last test before deciding if we were going to sign up for Tevis this year - which is six weeks after NASTR. ...Well, best laid plans and all that. I'll just sit tight and see how things develop and keep repeating the mantra that "a well-rested horse is better than an over-conditioned one".

So this weekend saw me with some unaccustomed time on my hands and I turned my attentions to "Project Horse" Hopi.

Hopi slightly less fat than he is now (but only slightly)
grazing on the lawn last year.

Hopi came to us when we were horse-shopping for Patrick back in the fall of 2007. He wasn't suitable for Patrick, being too green, but I loved the horse, saw so much potential in him, and he has a walk to die for (something I always wanted in a horse). I reasoned that since Roo was going so well and Jackit was too young to ride, I could buy Hopi as something to play with in the interim. A week later, we acquired Uno and after he dumped Patrick four times in a row, he became my project horse instead. So Hopi has stood in the wings, #4 horse in line for the last three and half years.

Hopi is the most peculiar mix of horse. Once you're on top of him, he's actually very solid and doesn't feel like a green horse at all. But on the ground he's a mess. Despite living with us all this time, he's still convinced we're "out to get him". He's difficult to catch because he doesn't want you near him. He is very thin skinned so doesn't like to be touched or brushed. He's explosive and doesn't like to be contained in small spaces or constrained - say by being tied-up or cornered. He will run right through or over you if necessary. He is uncomfortable having his foot gripped between my knees to trim him. He's scared of anything you bring up to him - never mind if it's a small brush or a large blanket. If you duck under his neck while he's tied to the trailer to pass in front of him, he'll pull back in alarm. The first time I fitted an Easyboot on his foot, he took one look at it and reared to get away from it. He's frightened of people walking towards him on the trail or in the arena. As a result of all of the above I've been run over, kicked, and stood on. Needless to say, he needs work - and lots of it. But through it all, you can see he tries. He wants to be secure. He wants to have the attention. And he has a nice soft eye. So he's still here and still holds the "Project Horse" title.

Because of all this and despite my best intentions, trimming Hopi is one of my least favorite tasks (see above re. being run over, kicked, and stood on) so his feet become woefully long. I usually enlist Patrick to hold him and every foot is a struggle involving dodging and manipulating, trying to do the best job possible in the shortest amount of time (i.e. the nanosecond Hopi will hold his foot up and be compliant). The saving grace is that he has really good, round feet so even when they are long, they grow out nice and evenly without any weird distortions.

So there we were on Saturday, no Patrick in sight but Hopi and his way-too-long feet standing in front of me, so I decided to spend some quality time with him.

To begin with we played "Softly, softly, catchee monkee" involving pretending to catch Uno and Fergus, all the while keeping up a running commentary to Hopi about how awkward they were being and how wouldn't it be nice if they'd just stand still? Not being the object of interest, Hopi stood in the way and surprisingly accepted some butt scritches and tail tugging. He would move out of the way, but wasn't his usual explosive self. After about five minutes, I haltered him before he knew what had happened and took him up onto the driveway for some groundwork refresher.

One of my biggest weaknesses is lack of consistency - which is probably one of the things Hopi needs most and probably why we haven't progressed very quickly. But he does respond to groundwork when I manage to do it with him. During this 20 minute session, I insisted that he kept his attention on me, asked for some backing, asked for some gives, worked on asking him to move his butt away from me, worked on giving to the rope from the wrong direction (i.e. walking all the way behind him until I stood on the other side and put gentle pressure on the rope), etc. Satisfied that he was at least somewhat primed, I took him down to the barn.

I trim all the other horses in an empty 12 x 12 stall in the barn - place a hay bag in front of them - accessible from both sides of the panel - and they cheerfully hang out with their buddies - and I often trim them loose. On the other hand, trimming Hopi in an enclosed space is not usually something I'm comfortable with. I'd much prefer to have as many escape routes as possible by which to vacate the area when he has one of his frequent melt downs. But I figured I'd give it a go.

Rather than embark upon trimming right away, I decided to go for extended grooming. He looked a mess with much of his shedded out coat still clinging to his body in fluffy clumps, so out came the furbee - the perfect de-shedding tool. I ran it all over him very, very carefully so as not to poke or pull in an unpleasant manner. A few times I hit one of his sensitive spots and his whole skin rippled with discomfort, so I knew to be more gentle. At the end he looked a lot better and seemed relatively relaxed and comfortable, so I decided it was time to start trimming.

We began with the right front. First I brought over my hoofpick and hoof knives for him to inspect. Predictably he snorted at them, looked alarmed, moved away from me, and acted like something very bad was about to happen. So I stood there waiting for him to conclude that they weren't actually torture implements and once he settled down, I picked up his foot and kneeling on one knee next to him, propped the foot on my other knee. That way I wasn't constraining the foot or alarming him unduly with my hoof-stand. This went very smoothly and I was able to progress to the nipping stage - again, introducing him to the nippers politely by allowing him to sniff them and stand quietly for a short while with them in sight before starting the torture, uh, I mean trimming.

With that part done, I needed to work from the top to remove extra toe and any flare. The [evil] HoofJack was going to be necessary. The normal modus operandi for the hoofstand is I get his foot up on it and start to rasp. He tolerates it for a short while before rearing up and pulling back (thus he is always tied on a Clip). This then spirals into a a "you will behave" battle of wills. But this time around, things went much better. He only removed his foot once from the stand and did so relatively politely. One foot done, three to go.

Half-way through the right rear, things started to degenerate in the usual way. He'd tolerated propping the rear foot in the cradle and I'd trimmed about 80% of it before he decided he'd had enough, removed the foot (and having been kicked in the past for having the audacity to hold onto the foot to prevent its removal, I wasn't going that route again) and then refused to pick it up again. No amount of pushing and pulling resulted in compliance. Hmmm. Time for more groundwork.

Off we went, up to the driveway again (not much flat on my property, so the driveway is usually the groundwork location of choice). This time I asked him to turn tight circles around me, stopping every so often and asking him to pick up the rear foot. If he didn't, then he'd be turning circles again. After a short while, he got the idea, so we went back down to the barn whereupon he promptly forgot the lesson and ignored my "foot up" requests.

O-kay... I guess we're going to be trimming on the driveway afterall. I took all my tools and him back up and had him turning tight circles around me and the equipment. Again, fairly soon he got the idea and decided that maybe he could allow his foot to be worked on.

And here was the great part. Once he'd concluded that he was going to have to do something unpleasant (turn small circles) if he wouldn't allow me to pick his feet up, he also realised that standing quietly and being compliant might be the way to go. I was able to trim both back feet, using the cradle on the HoofJack with him standing basically ground-tied and relaxed while I did it. Nice!

Once we were done with the back feet, I rewarded him with a short grazing session and then we went back to the barn to finish up the last front foot. At the end, I had a nice relaxed horse, neither of us were at the "argghhh" stage and his feet looked really good. Yay!

To finish up, I gave him a haircut (he'd rubbed the middle part of his mane off on the fence, so had long sections top and bottom and a short section which stood up in the center) and (courtesy of quarter of a bottle of ShowSheen) brushed out his tail which was a felted mess containing quite a bit of gravel and twigs.

And then off we went up to visit Patrick up in his shop, still relaxed and contented, allowing me to lean on him, scritchle his nose with enjoyment, and generally hang out.

This is the best session I've ever spent with Hopi and I was so very pleased at the end. Hopefully this will be the shape of things to come - maybe we've finally turned a corner and he will actually start to enjoy being interacted with - in turn making interacting with him a pleasure - and thus breaking the cycle of us avoiding each other.

Hopi and Jackit playing. Jackit started it but soon realised he'd bitten off more than he could chew. (see how athletically Hopi can rear!)