Competing at the 2008 National Trail Championship -- The Hazel Perspective (Part Two)

When it was time for our first class, I was summoned to the show ring. Tying to the hitching post went well, but my mind was scattered that I totally missed the gate, instead heading straight for the mounting block. Oops! My bad!

I lined Hazel up to the block, but she was in no mood to stand still and quietly sidled away from me. A few more attempts and she was closer, but she wasn't close enough. My trainer had brought a treeless saddle for her to use. Very comfortable, but I didn't find it very stable for mounting in this situation.

Finally, I was in the saddle and we were off--over the hills and through the dry lake bed. We did well through this section, although we were a bit rushed. After a few more hills we came to the ditch. This was parrellel to the fence where the crowd was gathered to watch. Hazel was not happy with the attention and blew right past the obstacle. I was no help, of course. I simply wasn't ready for this behavior and let her slip right through my hands. That said, I'm not one to stand down easily. While it took some power on my part, we did get through the ditch.

We then walked up to the bridge, which Hazel again blew past. Oops, I was a little late with the halt cue. Never-the-less, a few do-overs later, and we were crossing the bridge.

Personal observation: At this point I was a bit flummoxed. I've ridden Hazel a few times now and I've never experienced this behavior. Frankly, I wasn't sure how to handle the situation. You see, I don't always recognize when an animal is acting like a butt vs. when there is something actually wrong with them. I tend to lean toward the latter. In other words, I began to think that Hazel was bothered and therefore I shouldn't push her though anything.

A refusal (the walk-over box), a ditch (successful), and a less-than-perfect ground-tie attempt later, and our class was finished. I thanked the final judge and left the ring with a smile--the only way I know how to show.

Back in the warm-up arena, my trainer assured me that Hazel was taking advantage of me and asked me to trot her down some more. Gladly! We still had our class in the big arena ahead of us, and I wanted to be sure that we were prepared. I just knew something was bothering Hazel, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Fortunately, my trainer has a good eye. As I rode around the arena, she noticed that Hazel was spooking at the number and tassels that hung from the back of the show pad she was wearing. Eureka!

A quick tack change and I was back in the warm-up arena with a much calmer Hazel. Phew!

I'd also changed to my own saddle--one with a tree. The next class called for me to mount in the arena just like the last one. The fitted saddle gave me a bit more confidence for that obstacle. Hazel, however, still wasn't certain she wanted me up there, so she fiddled a bit before standing still.

Personal observation: I was starting to remember how I'd felt during my first big trail show with Maxine. We had to mount in the ring in the first class that year as well. I was 30 pounds heaver at the time and they didn't have a mounting block in the arena like they do now. I was so nervous and Maxine could tell. She didn't want to be anywhere near me. In fact, she broke away from my grasp and wandered away, leaving me standing atop a rock, feeling like a fool! The judge was kind enough to bring her back. Dreading a repeat performance, I asked, "Would you mind holding my stirrup? I don't normally ride in the wilderness alone."

Back in the saddle, we headed toward the hill. As we ascended the switchback, I was slow with my right-turn cue ("Use more leg") and Hazel went over top of a large boulder! "My fault," I told her as we eased back onto the path and headed up the hill.

At the top of the hill we reached the bridge and Hazel said, "I don't know about this." She dropped her head and inspected the footing. After some hesitation we were across the bridge and down the hill.

Hazel rode quietly through the next set of obstacles, cautiously exploring a ditch and picking her way carefully over rocks and trees. My favorite obstacle by far was the double-row of trees. These were set about four feet apart, with the limbs meeting in the middle. The object was to ride about twenty feet into the "tunnel" and then back out the way we came. Hazel did this well.

Then we were on to the skinny trail that led behind the lake. Hazel was cautious about the rock stairs that led up to the trail, but I urged her on with a "Step up" cue. Unfortunately, she was less secure about the trail behind the lake. After a few "almost" attempts, I ran out time and was waved on by the judge. We had the same struggle with the water.

Personal observation: At this point, I could've become very frustrated. There was no reason for Hazel to refuse these obstacles, and I'm sure that my trainer would've had her across in a second. That said, I know that I'm still learning. I simply didn't have enough tools in my toolbox to address the situation. One day I'll have a big fancy Snap-On, 20-drawer tool cabinet chock full of tools for every imaginable task like my trainer does, but at this point I'm doing pretty well with my heavy-duty, flip-top, portable Stanley tool chest. At least I outgrew the Fischer-Price kit long ago!

After that, it was smooth riding for the rest of the course.

The next two days got better and better. We had a few struggles, but what we did do, we did well. While I knew we wouldn't come in first in the big arena, we'd done well for our first time together. Donkeys can be a tough nut to crack, and I'm determined to become the best donkey rider I can be. Yes, I'm crazy.

Photo: Hazel and I prepare for the big trail show.

And So, It Begins -- Hazel's First Day (Part One)

I woke up bright and early this morning for the first morning of the National Trail Championship. As usual, my stomach was tight and I had no appetite, so we quickly got ready and drove over to the Oregon Horse Center.

This time, my husband, Travis, came with me. Usually he gets out of shows because of his work schedule, but this time he'd agreed to be there the entire time to be my groom. Not that the mules take much grooming for this show -- it's too late in the year to even clip them -- but it's nice to have someone there to run back to the stall when you forgot your hat.

Maxine was waiting in her stall when we arrived. It was strange to think that I wouldn't even have to tack her up this year. It would save a lot of time, but I was sad that we wouldn't be competing against the big boys in the Open class. Still, I was firm in my decision to put her health over my selfishness... er, happiness.

Hazel and Molly did have to be tacked up, but I wouldn't ride them until later, so it could wait. Instead, we wandered over to participate in the walk through.

Ah, the trail course walk through. This is one of my least favorite parts of the trail show. While I do appreciate the chance to walk through the course and ask questions of the judges -- I've learned a hell of a lot that way -- I am often annoyed by how much people over-think the course.

Here's how it works: First I get a course map from the show office. The map includes a primitive drawing of the course with the obstacles numbered, typically from one to 20. Above that is a description of what to do at each obstacle, such as enter pond, walk between two rocks, circle waterfall, etc. Then, I head over to the course to walk through on my own, deciphering the map as I go.

Now, I'll admit that the map is sometimes so crudely drawn that it's difficult to follow through some obstacles. Major, the gent who runs the show, is the first to admit that the drawings are less than perfect. In fact, he often claims that the map was drawn at 4:00 a.m.! Even so, it doesn't take too much common sense to figure 95% of the stuff out. The rest I just take at face value, but not everyone does.

The walk through starts with Major explaining the course while Mario, the head groundskeeper, walks the course. This is very helpful, if you can get in the front of the pack and follow Mario through the course. Unfortunately, folks start to pile up and go off course, confusing those behind them. This leads to the inevitable questions: "Do we go to the left of the right of the rock?"

Personal observation: Okay, call me a brash snob, but personally I really don't care what side of the rock you ride on. In my book, you take the side that (a) keeps you in view of the judge, (b) looks the most difficult, and (c) is, above all, safe. Nevertheless, the topic is discussed at length until every person who wasn't listening when the last person asked the same question has received a satisfactory answer.

The show starts immediately after the walk through, so I go and get Molly and Hazel ready. My first class of the day is with Hazel in the Logan Arena. That's the smaller arena that's intended for riders and/or animals that aren't quite ready for the big course in the Silverado Arena. My trainer suggested that I enter Hazel in this side because it was her first time being ridden in this show and there was a Donkey, All Riders class. Much to my disappointment, I was the only rider in the class.

Personal observation: Some folks would be exstatic to be the only rider in the class because it's a guaranteed blue ribbon. However. I'm highly competitive. While I enjoy my time in the class regardless, I'd much prefer to compete against at least four other riders. I have principles, you know!

About 30 minutes before my class I took Hazel to the arena to warm up. Anyone who's ridden a well-trained donkey knows that they don't need much in the line of warm-up. If you can get a donkey to trot you're doing well. Therefore, I didn't think it would take much to get her ready.

Much to my surprise, Hazel was sharp and ready to go. A little bit too ready. Like Maxine at her first show trail show three years ago, Hazel was dreadfully bothered by the unpredictable crowd in the warm-up arena. Unlike a regular show, the trail show attracts folks who don't normally spend time on the show circuit. Therefore, they don't quite have a handle on proper warm-up arena etiquette.

To make matters at little more intense, a few of the riders have horses that must be warmed up at a full-out gallop. While many of these folks are good riders, they sometimes forget that not everyone in the ring -- be it rider or animal -- is as experienced as they are. Hazel was in that group. Every time a horse would gallop alongside her, she would tense up and speed forward. Once or twice she even broke into a trot, headed for the gate -- not common for a donkey, especially Hazel. Each time she stopped obligingly, but I could tell that she was rattled.

To be continued...

Photo: Hazel loves attention!

Thinking With Your Head... Not Your Heart

Tomorrow is the first day of the National Trail Championship at Oregon Horse Center, and for once I'm not exactly excited about it. You see, Maxine's leg has just not healed 100 percent. She's so close to sound that it's tempting to enter her in the riding class, but I know that would be a big mistake.

For the last three shows, we've won the In Hand Open class. My goal is to win the class once again. As much as I want to ride her, I know that if I take that chance, I run the risk of injuring her leg on the rough terrain. That would ruin my chances of winning any class -- In Hand or otherwise.

Therefore, I've made the decision with my head, not my heart, to enter Max only in the In Hand Open this weekend. I will miss our chance to ride the course together, but her long term health is more important than this show.

Fortunately, I'm not out of the riding all together. My trainer asked me to ride Molly, the big Belgium-cross mule in the Mules, All Riders class. She also let me bring Hazel, the mammoth donkey to ride in the Logan Arena (the smaller course). Since I'm not riding Max, I've decided to enter Hazel in the Novice Horse class in the Silverado arena as well. It's her first time being ridden in this show, so who knows how it will go. Either way it will be a lot of fun!

When They Tug at Your Heart Strings

Today was lesson day. Despite some questionable weather, I headed to the barn to see what I could learn. There's less than a week until the big trail show, so I wanted to put some final tuning on my skills before the big weekend.

When I arrived, I noticed that the smaller field was empty, so I asked my trainer if I could put Maxine out for a little grazing. She said it would be fine as long as I could bring her in before she needed to use the trial obstacles for lessons, so I fetched Max from her stall and led her to the field.

Personal observation: I like to put Maxine out as much as I can, but she really can't be on pasture 24/7. When I bought her, I was told that she'd foundered a few years before. That being the case, I am cautious about her grass intake.

As soon as I removed her halter, Max was nose down in the dirt, looking for a place to roll. Within minutes, she was covered head to hoof in black soil. Her antics left me grinning from ear to ear. Little makes me happier than watching Max enjoy a good roll in the dirt.

When her attention turned to the grass, I wander back up the hill to tack up Molly. After a thorough grooming, I tossed on a saddle her back, slipped on a bridle, and headed up to the driveway (our makeshift arena). As I warmed Molly up for her first lesson, I'd often steal a glance a Maxine, who was romping in the pasture. She was having a grand old time -- running about, stretching her legs.

When it came time to bring her in, I wasn't sure what to expect. Typically, Max is easily caught. I simply walk up to wherever she's parked in the field, toss a rope over her neck, and slip the bridle on. This time, however, she seemed so happy to be out that I thought a chase might ensue.

I walked down the the fence and unclipped her halter from the fence. As I entered the pasture, Maxine's head lifted and her eyes met mine. As I stood near the gate, gently calling her name, she ambled over and dropped her head to grab a last bite of grass just a few feet from where I stood. I walked over, tossed the rope over her neck, and slipped her bridle on. A soft cluck and we were on our way.

Photo: Maxine grabs a bit of grass from the upper pasture -- also known as the front lawn. She's a great substitute for a weed eater.

FLASHBACK (September 2005): Buyer Beware! (Part One)

So much for buying my first mule. Donk was a complete bust -- horribly ugly with a personality to match. I should have know just by hearing his name, but I was willing to give him a look.

Here's how it all started...

A few weeks ago, I told my trainer that I think I'm ready to start shopping for my first mule. While I'm not sure how I'll swing the purchase, I've been assured that it takes a good long time to find the right animal, so I thought I'd have her begin the search.

Personal observation: My requirements for this mule are few -- safe to ride on the trail, older than nine, and younger than 20. Other than that I've made the decision to keep my nose out of it and let my trainer do the shopping.

A few days ago, my trainer called to let me know that she had heard about a mule that might be a good fit for me. After a brief discussion, I agreed to let her set up an appointment with the owners. The next evening we set out to meet him. The owners lived nearby, so it was a short trip.

As we drove up to the house, we saw Donk tied to a tree out front. I was struck by his appearance. This had to be the ugliest mule I've ever seen! He was pure white with beady little eyes. His mane had been roached, but the forelock remained. Not a good look in the mule world. To top it off, his head was huge and horribly unattractive.

I'd be lying if I said that my heart didn't sink a bit at the sight of him. That said, I was still willing to take a look. I'm familiar with the saying, "You can't ride pretty," and I don't plan to be the one to challenge that wisdom. I would let my trainer guide me in this little expedition.

The owners came out and introduced themselves. They seemed like a very nice couple. They said that they'd purchased Donk to take on hunting trips, but found that it was more trouble that it was worth to bring him along. Made sense to me.

Then the husband, "Bill" said he'd give a riding demonstration and proceeded to tack up the mule. (My trainer never rides an animal that the owner won't ride.) Donk showed a little annoyance when accepting the bridle, but Bill did not have gentle hands, so we gave him a pass.

Once he was ready to go, Bill climbed aboard and rode Donk quietly up and down the driveway. The mule was calm and willing at both the walk and the trot. Bill didn't canter him, but I was in search of a good, safe trail horse, not a show animal.

Things were looking pretty good at that point. Despite his appearance, Donk appealed to me. He was gentle and sweet. In fact, he reminded me a little of Winnie the Pooh.

On the drive home, my trainer and I discussed Donk's advantages and faults. Since I wasn't buying a show animal, the looks weren't important. Plus, I liked his demeanor. We quickly came to a conclusion -- though I wasn't ready to buy him, I'd gladly take him for a trial period.

That evening, my trainer made the call and the owners agreed to let me try him out for two weeks. We would pick him up the next day...

Photo: Donk, the wonder mule!

I'm So Glad Maxine has a Gash in Her Leg!

I went out to check on Maxine today, eager to see if the swelling in her leg was still visible and give her some TLC.

When I brought her out of the barn, I was delighted to see that the swelling was nearly gone. Then, as I reached down to take a closer look, I found something entirely new.

Much to my surprise, I noticed a sizable gash halfway between her knee and pastern. WHAT!?! How had no one noticed this before!?!

After further inspection the answer was clear -- the cut was in the back curve of her leg so the swelling had essentially closed the cut, making unnoticeable.

Personal observation: Maxine and her antics will never cease to amaze me.

The hose was in reach, so I gave her leg a through soaking with fresh water and then packed the softened wound with Neosporin -- God's gift to horse folk. After a gentle in-hand workout, I put Maxine back in her stall and, knowing the wound would eventually heal, breathed a sigh of relief.

Personal observation: I know it's cliche, but one of the most important lessons I've learned during my short time learning about equines is to never sweat the small stuff. Instead of being upset, I was ironically ecstatic to find the cut on Maxine's leg. Why? Because up until then, there was no explanation for the swelling. My trainer and I had discussed possibilities, but that's never the same as a good, logical answer. At her age (17 going on 18), I'll always be concerned about her future, so to find out that this is just a temporary ailment means the world to me.

So, how did she cut herself in the first place? I can't say for sure, but I'm fairly certain that she tried to climb over her stall wall to get to a bucket of grain bags. Yes, Maxine loves her food that much. Silly girl.

Photo: Maxine's cut is healing quite well. You can also see the hole in her right hoof. This was caused by a nasty abscess she had last Spring. It left a crack in her hoof, which broke out once it had grown out about half way. Fortunately, her steel shoes keep the hoof from flexing and it doesn't bother her one bit. Just more of that small stuff I try not to sweat.

You've Been Cheating on Me!

When folks found out that Maxine was unable to go to the Trail Clinic this past weekend at Oregon Horse Center, I was quickly elected to ride two other mules. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I loved every minute of it! (Sorry, Max!)

The first mule I rode was Molly. She's a 16.2 (and 3/4) Belgium cross that belongs to my trainer's mom. Now 7 years old, Molly has been in training at the barn since she was four months old and it shows. She's incredibly quiet and obedient.

I've only ridden Molly once before this weekend, so we got to know each other (with the help of my trainer) during the two practice nights. Then we were on our own for the four hour clinic -- which couldn't have gone better.

Since Molly's so easy-going, I took the opportunity to brush up on my show skills. The upcoming trail championship has become so competitive that it really comes down to finesse. I typically place in the top ten or higher, but I'm looking to improve my scores even more. This was the perfect opportunity to practice.

The other mule I rode was Sis. She's a 16.2 Clydesdale cross that belongs to Lynn, a client at the barn. Because of a foot problem, Lynn was unable to ride, so she asked if I would ride Sis in the clinic for her. I jumped at the change. I've never ridden Sis, but I've seen her in action many times and I thought it would be a lot of fun.

Sis is also a calm, easy-going mule, but she's not trained to the extent that Molly is. Though she's 19, this was her first weekend in the trail arena. Lynn had introduced her to all of the obstacles during the practice evenings, but she hadn't been ridden through them, so I was eager to see how it would go.

I'm happy to say that she did surprisingly well. While she got a little tense at the far end of the arena (I swear there was a goblin lurking behind the wall), but that didn't keep her from completing each obstacle. Toward the end of the clinic, we performed a near-perfect back-though "L." When I rode over to Lynn after, she was thrilled because that was the first time she's seen Sis do that obstacle. I have to admit that I was pretty proud of our efforts myself.

Personal observation: The back-through "L" is my least favorite obstacle, and therefore my least polished one. Of course, my trainer will have none of that, so we've been spending the past three weeks brushing up on that obstacle -- at a snail's pace. NO RUSHING!

Of course, this isn't the first time I've ridden animals besides Maxine. I have been riding as many as I can get my hands on during lessons. While I love Maxine, we do create bad habits for each other. Riding other mules and donkeys helps me work out my issues so that I can transfer the training to Max.

Photo: Riding other animals has definitely paid off. This summer I won Reserve High Point on Hazel the Donkey.

The Predictably Unpredictable Maxine.

When I was in high school, Huey Lewis and the News came out with a single that included the time-honored phrase: "The more something changes, the more it stays the same." At the time, it didn't really make sense to me. How could something change but stay the same?

Fifteen years of experience later, and I know all to well the meaning behind the quote.

I went out to ride Maxine last night and noticed that her front leg was slightly swollen. I decided to see if it was something that would improve with exercise, so I tacked her up and slid into the saddle. We had a slow 20-minute ride that included walking an some easy trail practice over small logs. This lesson was more for her brain than for her conditioning.

After our ride I wandered into the house to say hello to my trainer. Once inside, she said that she'd noticed Maxine's leg earlier in the day. She had planned to use her for lessons, but when she saw the swelling, she chose to have someone walk her by hand instead. She and I are wishing, hoping, thinking, and praying that it's just an abscess, but she's keeping an eye on things to be sure.

Whatever the reason, I am once again faced with a minor injury before a major show. Yes, the National Trail Championship is in three weeks and I'm not sure if I'll be able to compete. I've already made the decision to drop this weekend's trail clinic. That's no-brainer. Fortunately, I should be able to get a vet-out slip in time to recoup my entry fees. I went through the same thing for last years trail challenge at the same location, so I know the staff should cooperate with my situation.

I used to get frustrated when this happened, but now I can predict that she's going to abscess twice a year -- once in the spring and once in the fall. I just wish I could schedule them so they would be more predictable. But that's the beauty of owning an equine, isn't it? Their predictable unpredictability.

Photo: Maxine at I in the In Hand Open class at the 2007 Northwest Trail Challenge. We won the championship ribbon.

FLASHBACK (June 6, 2007): Yes, My Husband Rides... But Not Often.

Travis came out to ride with me tonight. Believe it or not, it's only his second ride on Maxine! He's taken lessons here and there, but he usually takes them on other animals so that I can ride my lesson on Max.

I must say, he does look good on a horse. Sometimes I wish he had a little more cowboy in his blood, but I'll take what I got. He has come a long way with this riding. He's much more relaxed and confident. We'll have him showing in no time.

Photo: Travis and Maxine, his favorite mule.

The Pack Trip from Hell... Sort of. (The Final Day)

Needless to say, by the fourth day of our trip, Travis and I were exhausted. At 5:40 a.m., I woke up to start Maxine's breakfast. After about fifteen minutes, the pellets had turned to slop. I carried them through the trees where my gal awaited, anxiously.

Then, I went back to the tent, where I slept until 7:30 a.m. The night before, Travis and I had discussed hitting the trail by 8:00 a.m., but we were dragging after the night's "activities." No one else was eager to get moving either, so we settled in for a relaxing breakfast of oatmeal and hot chocolate.

Personal observation: Despite my worries to the contrary, most everyone slept through our little sleepover.

With our tummies full, we wandered up to break camp and pack up The Brat. I began calling Maxine that about a year after I got her. She's typically so calm, it's an ironic title. Of course on some days, and this was one of them, it's a very fitting nickname.

My first job was to clean off my tack. The day before, Maxine had done her darnedest to get to the rock where I had safely laid my tack for the evening. Not only was she successful, she made a game of tossing and stomping every piece in the dirt while I was down at the lake washing up. Now it was covered in grass and sticks.

Once I had picked every sticker and burr from her pad and saddle, I doctored her wounds, gave her the last swallow of Banamine for her rope-burned leg, and started tacking her up. Her girth sores were healing nicely. The day before I had pulled her cinch back from the sores by tying the cinch buckles to the rear D-ring on her saddle. This successfully kept the cinch from rubbing her tender skin, so I used the same method to keep her comfortable for the walk back to the trailhead.

Unfortunately, Maxine wasn't nearly as thankful for my thoughtfulness as I'd hoped. Eager to get home, she refused to stand still. She nodded, pawed, and continually threatened to roll as I tried in vein to fill her pack.

"Well, now we know why the pack outfit sold her," I said to Travis in frustration. "Tomorrow on Craigslist: 'Over the saddle pack, barely used.' Give me the hobbles. I swear I'm never doing this again."

I buckled the hobbles on to Maxine's front legs, but they were not much help. That gal is smart as a whip, and she quickly knew exactly how much activity she could get away with, despite her shackles.

Fully aware that my mood was not helping the situation, I took a deep breath and consciously worked slowly and steadily. I continued the packing process while regularly correcting her as I'd been taught by my trainer. Again, Maxine decided that she was too smart for this and quickly turned it into the "I Can Stand Still Until You Step Out of Reach" game. Ha ha!

Personal observation: I have both been told and witnessed the fact that each mule takes after either their horse or donkey parent. Those that mentally take after the donkey side tend to be smarter than those that mentally take after the horse side. Both make good animals, but the smart ones really know how to get under your skin because they're constantly looking for ways to out think their human. Maxine is definitely donkey-headed.

Fortunately, I've learned to recognize this game quickly, so I don't get drawn in the way I once did. Plus, I had Travis to come to my rescue. That allowed my to put all of my attention on Max. He dutifully filled her pack while I held my ground -- and her attention.

At one point, Mom relieved me by taking lead. Maxine was on to this like white on rice. As soon as I began to work, she began pacing and pawing for attention. Mom did her best to keep her occupied. It's fun to watch her try to reason with my unruly mule.

"Now, why don't you just stand there and be nice," she softy suggests. "If you would just be nice this would get over faster and the sooner you'd be back in your nice trailer that's filled with yummy hay."

It was a valiant effort, and Max did play along for a few minutes. Luckily, that's all it took to finish up. We were ready to hit the road. I just had to remove the hobbles.

I unbuckled the first hobble and moved to the second one. As I released the latch, Maxine raised her knee and caught me in the side of the head. It was not a kick by any means, but it was definitely a sign of disrespect -- the way a child might accidentally poke there sibling in the eye when a game of "I'm Not Touching You!" gets out of hand. I knew that if I didn't regain control, she would be increasingly unruly throughout the day. A quick but firm smack to the shoulder brought her to her senses.

Personal observation: Yes, I smacked my mule. In much the same way she recently kicked my cousin's gelding when he was being equally annoying to her. I don't go out of my way to swat Maxine, but I've been trained that a well-placed smack at the appropriate time is an effective training tool.

Maxine lowered her head and began to softly lick and chew. She knew the game was over and it was time to move on. I scratched her behind the ear, patted her on the neck, and set off down the trail with her in tow.

Though she was eager to get home, she respectfully followed behind me, showing that she'd remembered her training from the first two days of the trip. We descended through trees and past meadows, slowly leaving the lake basin in our memory. I knew that as time passed, the trying moments of the trip would fade away, leaving only fond memories of our riding adventures and time spent wallowing in the meadow.

After a few hours, we saw the familiar sight of the horse trailer.

Travis and I quickly unpacked Maxine so that she could take a well-deserved roll in the grass (though preferably in a spot that wasn't filled with burrs). Once she had successfully covered her entire body with dust and sucked down some water, she stepped into the trailer where she was met by a full hay bag.

Our trip had come to an end. We still had a long drive home, but I knew Maxine would happily snooze in the trailer as we rolled down the highway.

As we drove home, I thought about the events that had taken place during the past four days. Though the trip did have some tense moments, I was certainly glad we'd taken this little adventure, because it taught me that:

1. Though I may be a novice, my eagerness to listen to my trainer, heed the advice of experts, and know my limits resulted in a safe, albeit adventurous, trip.


2. One is the loneliest number -- especially when you're a mule in a crisp, moonlit clearing on a gusty night.


3. I can overcome an irrational fear of the unknown to protect my gal and make her feel safe.


4. Tough love -- when used thoughtfully, sensibly, and sparingly -- is sometimes answer.


5. Highlines are not my cup of tea. (I see an portable electric fence in our future!)


6. I'm definitely a campground/day ride kinda gal!

Photo: Maxine is less than amused with her grass-free parking spot. Thank goodness for hay pellets!

The Pack Trip from Hell... Sort Of (Day Three)

After the previous night's excitement, we woke up to a promising day. I fed Maxine her breakfast and then went to see how much damage she'd done to her leg the night before. Further inspection showed that she had a somewhat nasty rope burn, but was otherwise unscathed. I went to our pack and returned with the Neosporin and a tube of Banamine to sooth any pain.

Banamine -- Never leave home without it!

Maxine's breakfast and first-aid session was followed by our breakfast, which was followed by a discussion of the plans for the day.

Most of the group was planning to take a day hike to the top of the cliff that surrounded the far side of the lake. Ken had already hiked to the top of the cliff and back the day before. Since he had horse experience, I asked him what the trail looked like. I've been on cliff hikes before, so I know how skinny and treacherous those trails can be. I was not looking to set out on a Grand Canyon-style ride that day.

He said that the trail was very good. Mostly wide with a few sections of loose shale. He had noticed hoof scrapes on the rocks, so horses had been up there before. He also mentioned that there were three spots where a rider might feel more comfortable leading their horse instead of riding.

I knew I wanted to take Maxine for a ride, but I wasn't sure which direction I wanted to go. Being the only rider in the group, I knew I'd be out alone, so I had to consider a route that would be the safest for us. After a bit of thought on the matter, I decided to head off on a mile loop around Donna Lake. Like the first day, I'd never be too far away from camp and I had my whistle to call for help if needed. I tacked up, showed Mom where I was headed, said I'd be back by 12:30 p.m., and set off down the trail.

Maxine was eager to go, until we came to the fork that led to Donna Lake. When I turned her down the trail and she stopped in her tracks.

Personal observation: Here's the thing I've learned from my trainer about mules in the wilderness -- they have a strong self-preservation instinct that they inherited from their donkey side. That's what helps makes them such safe trail animals. The key as a rider is to trust their instinct. That doesn't mean you need to turn around and head home at the first sign of hesitation, but it's a good idea to assess the situation before you proceed.

After a look around, I urged Max forward. She politely obeyed and trod on -- for about 100 yards. Then, she stopped again. Hmm... that's interesting. I looked up the trail, but saw nothing. Of course, my senses are human. They're not nearly as attuned to the environment as Maxine's, who was now standing alert, looking into the brush. I took another look around and then glanced down at the trail. Oh my, that looks like a big kitty print.

Abort mission: turn around.

Now, I'm no sissy, but I was riding on my own, so I wasn't taking any chances. It's not worth forcing Max into a potentially dangerous situation for my benefit. I decided that this time I would listen to her instincts.

Undaunted, I backtracked and headed down the cliff trail that the rest of the group had taken. I figured I'd ride as far as I was comfortable and then safely turn around and return to camp. Besides, I'd told Mom that I'd be back by 12:30 p.m. and I didn't want to worry her by missing my deadline.

Maxine was cruising down the trail and we quickly passed everyone in our group. I waved to some campers who'd set up camp in a restoration spot (tsk, tsk, tsk) and continued up the trail.

Ken had been right. The trail was wide and easy. Though we were gaining a lot of elevation, it wasn't a steep climb. Maxine had no trouble as we ascended the trail. We passed the sections of shale that he had mentioned and were treated to gorgeous views of the lake basin below. We were soon following the edge of the cliff. Maxine clearly had respect for the edge, but she showed no signs of fear, so I rode confidently up the trail.

As we came around a switch back, I looked down the trail. Just ahead, the trail whittled down to about 2.5 feet wide. Two large, smooth rocks jutted out into the trail, sloping down to a section of solid ground about a foot wide, just before the edge of the cliff. "This," I thought, "must be one the sections Ken was talking about." To make matters worse, this section of trail was going downhill, so I knew Max would be less stable passing the rock than if it were uphill. Should I get off and lead, or take my chances?

Maxine helped me answer that question.

Just before the questionable spot, Max gave a hint of hesitation. I quietly halted her, dismounted, and lead her across the offending patch of trail as if that's what I'd been planning all along. As I said before, I'm no sissy, but I consider Max to be an equal partner in this relationship, so I was happy to trust her instincts. Plus, this gave her a chance to rest after a long climb.

We continued up the trail, side-by-side, for another 100 yards or so. We had reached our destination! I gave Max a big hug and thanked her for a job well done.

Max and I wandered toward the edge of the cliff (but not too close!) to see if we could spot Mom in the campsite below. It was so far down that all we could make out was her red shorts and tie-die shirt. "Hello!" we hollered from our perch. "I changed my mind! I may not be back by 12:30 p.m.!"

I waved my arms and thought she waved hers, too, but it was difficult to tell. We took in the views and then I returned to the saddle for the trip back down. I'm sure Mom had seen us, but I didn't want to dawdle, just in case she hadn't.

We soon came back to the skinny spot in the trail. This time, however, Max trudged on like a pro. She definitely had more power going uphill over that section. Good girl!

A few switch backs later, we met up with the rest of our group. We stopped for photos and a quick chat and then continued down the hill. Maxine was trucking! We reached the bottom and found Mom five minutes before our deadline!

After a drink from the lake and a nibble from the shoreline, I untacked Max and returned her to her clearing. I pulled up a chair and we sat in content silence, taking in the view of where we had been. There's a good chance we both dosed off a bit, too.

That evening, we went to bed pretty early -- about 9:30 p.m. Sleep was quick to come and I crossed my fingers that the day's ride was enough to keep Maxine quiet for the night. If only! At some point in the night, I was roused by nervous pawing.

I rolled over and asked Travis what time it was. I prayed that it was at least 5:00 a.m. so that I would have an excuse to start her breakfast to quiet her down. Travis checked his watch and replied, "It's 11:00 p.m."

WHAT!?! IT'S ONLY 11:00 P.M.!?! ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME!?!

Tired and groggy, I rolled out of the tent and walked to Maxine's clearing. The nearly full moon flooded the wilderness, so I could see without a flashlight. A strong wind had come up -- the haunting tree-top wind that brings monsters and ghouls from lands far away. I looked at Maxine. She was calm in my presence, but I could see fear in her eyes. "Momma, how could you leave me tied here, alone, as bait for a cougar or whatever creature might be lurking in the shadows?" My heart sank.

I turned to walk back to the tent. As soon as I passed the trees, Max started to fuss again. I knew what I had to do...

"Psst. Give me my sleeping bag," I said to Travis.

"What?"

"Give me my sleeping bag," I repeated. "She's scared and I can't leave her up there alone. She might tie herself up again. I'm going to sleep with her."

"Do you have to?"

"Yes, I do."

I quickly returned to Maxine's clearing -- sleeping bag in one hand, chair in the other. "This is nuts," I thought, as I placed the chair near her head, hopped in my sleeping bag, and settled in. Fortunately, my sleeping bag unzips from the bottom, so I was able to stick my feet out, in case I needed to get away in a hurry.

With the bag warmly over my head and flashlight in hand, I closed my eyes to get some sleep. Max stood quietly above me, making happy mule sounds.

I wish I could say that we fell asleep then and there, but that wasn't the case. Max was quiet but still very aware of her surroundings. Every so often, she'd freeze, staring into the woods behind us.

Now, the sensible part of my brain knew that there was nothing to be scared of. We weren't in bear country and it was highly unlikely that a cougar would attack a giant blue worm in the middle of the night. Still, I was surrounded by darkness and the unknown, so I wasn't quite so sure about my safety.

I drifted in and out of sleep for about an hour. Then, at about 12:30 p.m., Maxine locked on something in the distance. Something was walking toward us -- an animal that sounded to be about 120 to 150 pounds. I froze, cursing myself for bringing my flashlight but leaving my knife safely in the tent.

"Sit or stand?" I thought. "Sit or stand?"

Finally, it was too close for comfort. I leapt from my chair and shined my light into the forest. The animal gave out an eery cry, "Eeeugh!" It turned and headed further into the forest. It cried again, this time from a much greater distance. I stood frozen for a moment, then I looked around at Maxine. She dropped her head and began quietly licking and chewing. Content the creature was leaving, I returned to my chair and sunk lower in my sleeping bag.

Personal observation: I never did see what crossed our path that night, and no one else heard our visitor except Travis (so I'm not completely insane). The general consensus amongst the group the next day is that it was a deer that was headed to the lake for a midnight drink. Mom had seen a doe in the area twice, so it made sense. Travis and I later listened to some deer sounds online, and it's quite possible that it's what we heard. Deer or not, it was creepy as hell in the middle of the night!

I woke up again around 2:00 a.m. The wind had died down and the moon was about 20 minutes from dropping beyond the horizon. I knew it would be dark soon and I'd be much happier if I were safe in the tent. I'm not sure why I feel safer behind a millimeter of nylon, but it's true.

Maxine was sleeping soundly, so I tip-toed to the tent. I waited for her to stir as I unzipped the door, but she remained quiet. I happily snuggled up next to Travis, who hadn't gotten much sleep either. He was too busy worrying about me.

Exhausted, I was soon in dreamland.

Photo: Max and I cross one of the shale patches on the the return trip down the cliff trail.

The Pack Trip from Hell... Sort of. (Day Two)

After a less than restful night, I woke up to get Maxine's breakfast started. The week before I'd done a little research to see what kind of forage we'd have for Max during the trip. The general consensus was "little to none," so we packed in food our girl.

Each morning she received five pounds of hay pellets, plus her usual bag of grain and goodies. I know that horses can have trouble eating dry pellets, and I didn't want to take any changes out here in the middle of nowhere, so I wandered down to the lake to fill a bucket with water to soak the pellets. After a good soaking, Max eagerly dove in to her breakfast, contentedly munching as we prepared our own meal.

Soon, everyone started to stir and wander to the campfire. Plans for the day were discussed as we ate breakfast. The general consensus was that we should break camp and move another two to three miles up the trail to check out a campsite with superior views and lakefront footage. I was not so easily convinced, but we went along with the group.

It didn't take long before we were on the trail again. Maxine reluctantly left her coveted meadow and renewed her game of "I can walk faster than you!" While she was better than the day before (training works!), she was definitely perky after her good night's rest.

The uphill climb was getting the best of me, as it had the day before, and I'm not the best at keeping a smile on my face when I'm hot and cranky. As we trod up the trail, I became increasingly frustrated as Maxine's manners slowly declined. There was also another problem that most women will understand -- my hormones where hard at work. In other words, I wasn't exactly the picture of mental health as we walked up the trail. I did everything in my power to keep my composure and my patience.

After a couple of hours, we came to the first potential camp site. We arrived just in time to find everyone sitting about, eating lunch. No a bad idea, but there was one problem -- my lunch was at the bottom of Maxine's pack. We hadn't planned on eating on the trail because, as Dad so often puts it: "It's a really easy hike. We'll be there in no time." Therefore, we'd only packed water and our trail snacks in Travis's backpack. Thankfully, you can always count on Mom. She whipped out her next two day's lunches and passed them to us (in trade for two of our future lunches). Thanks, Mom!

Unfortunately, the lunch stop wasn't as relaxing for us as it was for everyone else. Max was obviously bored and decided that it was her duty to dig out and pull down the tree to which she was tied. Not wanting to bother the others or let Maxine get the best of the tree, I spent most of my lunch keeping her amused.

Personal observation: Hmm... It's funny how a mule who can get a perfect ten on a ground tie at a trail show can't stand still for 15 minutes on the trail! Nevertheless, no matter how much see needed schooling on the matter, I didn't feel like we were in the appropriate place to administer an effective lesson at that point.

Soon were back on the trail. The campsite where we'd stopped for lunch was hot and dusty, so everyone decided to trudge on. About 1/2 mile up the trail, we came to a fork that led to campsites in either direction. Our scouts went ahead to check things out. After much deliberation, we took off to the right.

As we came in to camp, I quickly realized that while this site was perfect for humans (secluded tent sites with grand views of the lake and cliffs above), it was not going to be the most attractive site for Maxine. Unlike the last location that came complete with a meadow, this site merely had a bare rocky spot where Max could be highlined. On top of that, there was no place to put our tent in view of Maxine. While we were only about 15 feet away, a line of trees somewhat blocked our view of her.

Still, I was glad to be off the trail, so we quickly unpacked and got Maxine settled. The pack girth had rubbed her sides a bit, so I decided not to ride that afternoon. I doctored her sores instead. Thank goodness for Neosporin! I should buy stock in the company.

After Max was comfortable, I doctored myself with a dose of Midol! Then I set up a chair near Maxine and we dosed in the sun while Travis set up camp. Yes, ladies. He is fabulous!

As the day wore on and Maxine recovered rested from the day's hike, I could tell that she was becoming increasingly annoyed by her forage-free location. After a while, she started a new game... how far can I stretch the highline! Plus, she was giving one of the trees quite a thrashing (even though it was wider in diameter than the legal limit), so I had to adjust things a bit to ensure that we'd leave as little damage as possible.

Another personal observation: As a longtime backpacker and Girl Scout, I know the importance of leave no trace camping. However, I quickly learned that the concept is easier said than done when equines are involved. Nevertheless, I did my best.

Of course, the most exciting part of the day didn't happen until much later.

Content with her dinner, Max was quiet all evening. Around 10:00 p.m., we checked her water, wandered to the tent, and crawled in to bed. At some point, I was stirred by the sounds of a bored mule. She was pawing the ground, dragging her steel shoes across the rocks -- scrape, scrape, scrape. Then she started rolling and pacing.

Ugh. She was really making a racket, so I decided to take a peek to be sure that she was okay. I put on my boots and walked through the trees. There she stood with her innocent "what did I do" look on her face. You gotta love her (thought I can't say I was feeling it at that moment). I made sure she was safe, told her to be quiet (which I know is utterly absurd because she doesn't speak English), and went back to bed.

Not long after I'd snuggled back into my sleeping bag, she started to fuss about. Then, she started to thrash about. "Dammit," I muttered as I scrambled for my boots and flew out of the tent. I may be a novice, but I know the difference between "impatient and bored" horse sounds and "uh-oh there's trouble" horse sounds. This was definitely the latter.

As I burst through the trees, Maxine froze and looked at me with that innocent look again. As I looked down, I realized what the fuss was about -- she'd stretched out her lead rope and wrapped it around her hind leg when she rolled. Silly mule. I quickly unwrapped the line and walked her around the clearing to see if she'd done any damage. Content that her leg was still firmly in place, I tied her back to the highline and dragged myself back to bed.

Fortunately, Maxine had once again humiliated herself into submission and stood quiet for the night. Travis and I, on the other hand, were so frustrated that we were just about ready to pack up and head back down the trail. We weren't sure we could take another night of her antics. I was also coming to the conclusion that highlines aren't my preferred method for tying Maxine for the night, so the thought of camping where she could be safely tied in the trailer was tempting.

Yet another personal observation: I will admit that much of my stress was brought on by the fact that the rest of the group was not made up of horse folks. Because I didn't want them to be annoyed by Maxine, I was super sensitive to her behavior. I've always gone out of my way to be courteous to those around me, even if I have to change my behavior. That's why I'm the one who rarely gets to canter a full circle in the warm up arena. Out of safety and courtesy, I just can't bring myself to cut people off for my benefit. When I do by accident, I just know they're going to hate me forever.

It took a while to calm my thoughts, but sleep finally caught up with us.

Photo: Always a sucker for attention, Maxine smiles for the camera as she waits patiently to be packed for the trail.

The Pack Trip from Hell... Sort of. (Day One)

Recently, I took my first pack trip with Maxine. It wasn't your typical pack trip, with strings of horses and mules meandering down the trail. This was really just a backpacking trip with Maxine in tow.

Just so you know, I have little prior horse-packing experience. For the last three years I have intently listened to various speakers and watched many demonstrations during the Horse Packing and Wilderness Skills Clinic in Klamath Falls, Oregon. I also went on a day-long pack trip with my trainer's barn a couple of years ago. That does not make me an expert, I know, so I treated this trip as a learning experience, nothing more.

Fortunately, I have Maxine, a mule who used to pack in the wilderness of Montana. This gave me confidence that while I might make mistakes along the way, we'd all come out happy and healthy. And that we did... mostly.

The first day started out great. We packed up the pickup and headed down to Creswell to hitch the trailer and load Maxine. My parents were along, and they were very helpful as I went through the motions of getting the trailer ready for transport. (I triple check EVERYTHING so that I know nothing is left undone.) Once Max was loaded, we were on the road.

The drive went well and we arrived at the Sky Lakes trail head around noon. Maxine was eager to stretch her legs, so I lead her over to a small meadow. True to form, she dropped to the ground and began to roll in the tall grass. As she stood up, and the lead rope shifted in my hands, and I felt a small prick in my finger. I looked down to see that lead rope, Maxine, and everything below my knees was covered in burrs. What fun! Fortunately, the shoes I had on were not those that I'd be wearing on the hike.

Slightly annoyed but undaunted, I dragged Max back to the trailer and began packing her for the first time ever. At the last clinic in Klamath Falls, I purchased an over the saddle pack specifically for this trip and I'd spent the previous weekend packing the bags on a saddle stand in my living room, so I'd be ready for the task. Unfortunately, Maxine wasn't so ready. She stood by the trailer, pawing and jigging about. She was simply too excited to stand for packing!

And so, out came the hobbles. I'd never put them on Maxine before, but knowing that (1) she'd been part of a pack string and (2) she quietly adapts to anything, I decided to cautiously give them a try. The first minute or so was somewhat amusing as she tried to foil the new contraption around here legs, but after a couple of stumbles she realized that the hobbles had won and stood calm and obedient as we finished packing her bags.

Aside: One of the friends in our group later said, "Those hobbles just look so demeaning and humiliating." To which I replied, "Yup. That's why they work so well!"

Then we were on our way! I was so excited to get on the trail. There were eight in our party: Me and Travis (my husband), Mom and Dad, Randy and Donna, Brian, and Ken (an long-time friend with horse packing experience). I was glad to have Ken on the trip because I knew he'd be able to step in and help if something out-of-the-ordinary were to happen.

As we started up the trail I slowly began to realize three potential issues: the trail was all uphill, we were hiking at over 5,000 feet elevation (I live at 500 feet), and Maxine really wanted to walk faster than this out-of-shape gal can hike in the given environment. Therefore, the first day turned into a bit of a battle of wills -- Maxine trying to overtake me while I try to keep her in her place on the trail.

I did my best to keep my patience as Maxine challenged me to no end. You see, the problem with Max is not that she's a bad mule -- she's a smart mule. Too smart. In other words, she quickly figures out what you want her to do and then devises ways to circumvent what's expected of her without being "bad." She's like the kid in class who's always bending the rules without ever breaking them.

Still, I forged on and kept my wits about me. Though I'm sure my mother got tired of hearing, "Wup, wup" every ten seconds. That's Maxine's "slow down, please" cue. (followed by a whip tap when not obeyed, of course). The best part was when she'd kick the back of my heels. For this little indiscretion, she was required to immediately back up five steps. By the end of the hike this turned into the "kick heel, back up before she even turns around to cue me" game. Like I said -- smart.

Fortunately, our hike was only three miles that day, so we were in camp by 3:30 p.m. Knowing that Maxine definitely needed a little more of a workout than she'd received inching along behind me, I decided to take a little ride while my husband set up camp.

Being the only one with a horse in a group, I obviously had to ride on my own, but we've done that in the past, so I wasn't worried about it. The great thing about the Sky Lakes area is that there are many loop trails that are little more that a mile, so I knew that I would never be more than 1/2 mile away from camp. After showing the group what trail we planned to take, we set off down the trail with an emergency whistle, a copy of the map, and a curfew. (Come looking for us if we're not back by 5:00 p.m.)

As soon as we hit the trail, the mood changed. Maxine was relieved to be walking her own speed and shuffled speedily down the trail. When we came upon sections of the trail that were free of rocks and debris, we'd break into a posting trot and I'd watch the scenery fly by. I sang songs (too keep the cougars at bay, of course), while Max eagerly carried me down the trail between lakes and meadows. We were fast friends again and before we knew it we were back at camp.

And the camp was great. We set up across the trail from Isherwood Lake. The site opened into a meadow that was surrounded by dense forest, rock cliffs, and a smaller lake. I was very comfortable letting Maxine free graze in the meadow (grazing is permitted after August 1). Every now and again I'd look out to see her enjoying a roll in the grass, followed by a healthy snack.

That evening, I brought her over to the highline and got her set up for the night. Dinner included soaked hay, alfalfa, and beet pulp pellets, as well as her evening grain bag. She ate heartily and then relaxed, ever so often adding her opinion to the fireside chat. Everyone was amused by her cheeky comments.

As night fell, we retired to our tents to get some shut eye. I'll admit, this was one of the moments I was least looking forward too. I simply didn't know how Maxine would take to the highline overnight. She's been safely tied to trailers for long periods at horse shows, she's spent some time in a tie bay with other mules, and I once tied her to a hitching post overnight at a trail head as I slept in a nearby tent. Frankly, I was more worried about her waking up our fellow campers than about what she might do to herself. Fortunately, the afternoon ride had paid off and after bit of pawing and rolling, she was quiet for the night.

Photo: Me and Maxine at the trail head just before heading up the trail. Her blanket made a great pack cover. We didn't lose a single item.

FLASHBACK (May 2005)

I've recently rediscovered the joy of horses, and regressed to my fifth-grade self, thanks to a dear friend at work. I apologize ahead of time if I talk your ear off about my recent equine adventures the next time I see you! Fortunately, Travis has been taking my new hobby in stride; he swears he does not think I'm nuts!

Besides, this is more than just a passing fancy; I already have boots and a helmet and I've started taking lessons. I can even say I own a pair of spurs!

Lessons have been wonderful! I take them from a fabulous gal down in Creswell, and believe it or not, most of the lesson mounts are actually mules! There's not a stubborn one in the bunch.

I can happily say that I'm not too bad, but I have to admit there's more to riding a horse than what you experience on a trail ride. Voice commands, leg commands, reign commands; the cues are endless. And did you know that you can actually tell a horse to go forward just by moving your butt? You can. Trust me, I know!

Want to know more? I'd be happy to tell you about. Do you have an hour or two? In the meantime, here are a few links of interest (to me anyway!).

Photo: Riding Charlie during a lesson in the summer of 2005.

Those who know me are more than aware that I've been riding mules since early 2005. Throughout the years, my friends and family have been subject to myriad stories about my adventures on "muleback."

Since I have so much to share about my adventures, I thought this would be a great place to log my journey. I'll even be sure to include some flashbacks to some of my favorite riding experiences.

Photo: Me and Travis in early 2005 during a beach ride with C&M Stables in Florence, Oregon. We're riding Freckles and Stylus (I bet you can't tell which is which).