Grey skies still

Harley and Rolex tearing it up Sunday morning

The weather has continued to cast a perpetual greyness over us. This might be good in that it will keep me from overdoing things until my hand heals. But Sunday morning's fresh snowfall made the trails look so inviting. The woods looked like powdered sugar had been sprinkled overnight. The gang is always happy to romp in fresh snow. One of the great things about this winter is they can't get all muddy when they roll--just receive a nice snow bath instead!

John had a yearning to get a new halter for Ruffy, since some hooligan, aka Fuzzy B. broke her's when he had a spooky fit in the floor-less barn. I gave John a halter nameplate at Christmas, so we decided it was time to get her a replacement halter. We checked the boiling sap before we made the trip to Dover Saddlery, arriving back with the halter and other "essentials" just in time to rescue it from burning off. One and half more pints in the fridge. The trees are still giving us a nice amber run, far from the molasses colored syrup of last year.

The girls have become quite the pocket pickers. You can see in the above picture, Rolex and Ruffy sticking their noses in Johns hands, looking for carrot treats. Rattle a plastic bag, rummage in your pockets, and no doubt, you will be mobbed by horses. It can be tricky when Vance gets involved since he's the head of the herd and warns them away. If I manage to wave enough carrots in different directions, I can keep the peace. All those velvety noses nudging you, "Me next. Where's mine?"

Today John had time to get on Harley and Rolex for their first workout in weeks. He took each on a little jaunt up to Orris Falls and through an adjacent logged area. He reported back that Harley was good--they even had a nice fast canter. I held horses while he swapped tack and took Rolex out next. She wasn't so keen on crossing the brook--granted she hasn't seen it in weeks--but decided that without Brave Harley with her, she'd rather come home. So lucky John got in a double-header today, even though they were short. And the best news, he was coming back to the barn at 5 p.m. and it was still light out! Well, as light as the grey, snowy sky would allow.

Check out John's new mucky muddy riding footwear--who new Bog's had spur rests? Perfect for the upcoming mud season!

From the boggy bottoms to the summit

Today we took Nina and Harley on another ride with mud, but none so deep you could lose your horse in it! As John said, "You know the mud's deep when your horse is using his chin to get out!"

Our plan, was to ride to Second Hill, a sub-summit to Mt. Agamenticus. This is a ride with mud, brooks, and foot bridges. We rode out the Orris Falls Trail to Emery's Bridge Rd. A half mile later, we turned off into the woods on, what I call, the Bennett Lot Trail (a cut through the woods to Bennett Lot Rd). We took a little break here so John could adjust Nina's saddle a bit. The air was steamy and it was shaping up to be a hot ride, but our plan was to take our time and enjoy the ride. Mushrooms carpeted the forest floor with splashes of mustard yellow, orange, red, pale purple, olive green, and ghost white. Some were just gelatinous masses, some were just peeking out from under a carpet of hemlock needles or leaves. It smelled like fall, crushed sweet fern, ripening berries, and dead leaves. Our last wildflowers,  autumn asters, bloomed in sunny spots along the trail edge and roadsides. A last gasp of color.

Our first obstacle: a giant mud puddle in the old woods road, complete with frogs leaping in and out. Nina would have no part of it! Harley, just following Nina's lead decided, "if she won't go, I won't go".
Finally, with much urging, I convinced him to step into the water. He opted to stay "close to shore", hugging the edge. But it was enough to convince Nina to follow. Then came the first foot bridge. Once again, Harley took the lead, ears up and looking off to both sides at the tumbling brook below, but calmly walked across. Again, Nina followed. We then doubled back around to make them cross the water. This proved more difficult than the bridge, but they did it, both ways.

Break  en route up Second Hill

The trail up Second Hill is built for human foot traffic. It winds between narrow tree gaps (watch those knees!) over rocks and roots, and between ancient stone walls. I tried to picture what this area might have looked like in the last century. Were these hillsides all pasture? We stopped for a break and decided to lead the horses for a bit. We should have brought lunch with us. At least we had some crunchy carrots for the horses. They deserved treats--it was a bit of a climb for them!

The trail turned to granite ledge near the summit. Here we stopped again for a water break and to determine which path to follow next. The last bit to the summit was a scramble over rocky terrain. I was ready to turn back, and Ariat boots are NOT make for hiking. John willingly agreed--we'd already been out for a couple of hours and it would take us the same to get home.

My best boy near the summit

We are notorious for heading out into the Agamenticus region with maps, but we were prepared this time--compass, map, and GPS. There are blazes on the trees, and some signs at junctions, but if you're not sure where that trail leads, you're sunk without a compass. We guessed which trail  would lead us back towards home, and John was right. We came out on the Porcupine Trail (saw none) which led us to the Cedar Trail (saw none, but there must be some there). This trail had two low foot bridges crossing boggy areas (pretty dry this season, but I certainly wasn't going to test it after yesterday). Harley looked hard at them, but willingly stepped across, cloppity clopping with Nina right behind.

Once more, we had to face the first foot bridge, but since that didn't seem to be as much of an issue as water, we opted to make them cross the brook. Harley was happily playing "dude horse" and plodding along as second. So when I asked him to pass the snorting, spooking Nina, and go in the water, he wouldn't budge. "Ladies before gentlemen". Right, Harley. So we waited it out until Nina decided it wasn't so scary after all, and they both waded across.


By the time we came out onto Bennett Lot Rd., I was beginning to get stiff in the knees. I kept dropping my stirrups and swiveling my legs to loosen things up. The last time I spent this many hours in the saddle, I was 20 something! And just to make sure I didn't think Harley was really a "dude horse", he'd have a nice little spook every now and then--a gentle reminder!

The last leg, back through Orris Falls, was a relief. I'd been riding for over four hours and, boy, did I feel like it! As soon as we came out onto the road for home, Harley stepped up the pace, passed Nina on the inside and lengthened his stride, even jogging up the hills. I'm not sure who was happiest to be home, us, the horses, or Echoe, standing with gang at the gate, nickering to his long lost love, Nina.
Tomorrow--a short ride, only 2 hours!

The bog down in the valley-o!

John is stabling Nina with Harley for our week of vacation so we can ride together. This will be good experience for Nina, and we'll have the added benefit of not having to do the switch and ride! I dropped John off at Nina's home and then went out to get Harley. The plan was to meet about halfway and ride back home together. What a trip it turned out to be!

First, I got a late start. Harley was in a lollygagging frame of mind and I had to really push him to step out. I tried to make up for lost time in places where the footing was good and soft. But by September, most of the dirt roads are baked to the hardness of concrete. So we mostly walked, slowly.

As I headed down Dennett Road at a brisk trot, Harley slammed on the brakes--something in the woods to the left! He spun around, only to see a man and two dogs coming from behind! They're coming from both directions, Harley...turkeys, man, and dogs. What's a poor horse to do? The man kindly waited, but I told him to walk past; it would be best for all. Then Harley skirted the turkeys and we resumed our amble down the road. John called and I told him I'd meet him in about 5 minutes. Sure enough, there he was, Nina all ears up, Harley all ears up--who is that horse? 

We made a couple of wrong turns trying to find a short cut to eliminate a long road walk. The logged areas are always so confusing--twisting trails that just stop at a pile of brush, or just peter out. So we opted to try the pipeline route that, theoretically, will take us right to the lower pasture gate. Hah!

Finding the turn offs which resemble game trails more than established riding trails proved to be nearly impossible. We did a lot of bushwacking, resulting in banged knees, elbows, scratched arms, and a load of pine needles down my shirt. Then came difficult stream crossing #1. Now I know Harley has been through this one before, and we're heading home. With some strong leg, he stepped right in and crossed to the other side leaving Nina stranded on the other side. I finally dismounted, holding her line while John urged her from behind. The game little girl nearly jumped the entire stream bed!

John undoing the lead line while Harley watches

Our next attempt at difficult stream crossing #2 proved to be less successful. We seemed to be cut off on the wrong side of a large swamp. John knew there was a crossing somewhere in these dense woods. Harley was bravely bashing head first through the trees, on a quest for home. I think he knew just how close he was. I finally found a spot that had a lot of vegetation and presumed this might be solid enough footing. WRONG! Next thing I know, Harley is belly deep in a quagmire. I launched myself off of him and roll away so he can get himself unglued,  and crawl as quickly as I can for the edge, grabbing at roots.

Poor Harley got out and (thankfully) stood quietly, quivering, on the other side while I spoke in soothing tones and removed his splint boots (all down around his hooves now). I stuffed them in the saddle pad pockets and told John we were striking out for home. I suggested he turn back and make for the road.

We thrashed our way through the woods until we hit the trail leading to the lower pasture gate. When Harley got to the gate, he would have galloped for home if I'd let him. We squelched our way up the hill to the barn where I gave him a nice shower. After being assured everyone was fine, I got laughed at--I was head to toe mud, like I'd just come out of a mud-wrestling pit. About half an hour later, John rode up the road, missing one shoe--another victim to the viscous black mud of the South Berwick bogs. What a grand finale to the ride!