The Tevis Fever is contagious at Desert Bred Arabians (aka The Riding Center of Freeburg, IL), and many of our boarders and friends caught the bug. Paula Kaigh (pictured at left, on AAS Sivad Yasmeen during a Tevis training ride), shared her story:
I first wanted to try Tevis from talking to Casey Davis. At one of my first riding lessons, she asked me if I was afraid of heights. Little did I know...
I tried it twice, 2001 and 2002. I went out in 2000 to check it out and to cheer on Yasmeen who was eventually pulled.
In 2001, my horse Lyric went lame at 46 miles. I wasn't looking so good either. In 2002, Prince, looking perky and refreshed, and I, looking anything but, arrived at Francisco's, the 86-mile mark, about 2 hours over time.
I was most surprised by my motion sickness in the night ride. I usually only get motion sick if I'm spun around, but I was really tired, and those #@@^%$% glow sticks appeared to be floating all over the place making me very disoriented.
But I still can't wait to do it again. Absolutely. Now that I am more accustomed to long rides and have a faster horse (DB Dahman, pictured at left, and DB Ibn Desert Dhellal), I think I will hold up better and finish earlier thus limiting the amount of night riding.
My first Tevis attempt in 2001 is a vivid memory. My first Tevis attempt started smoothly enough with a single-file, nice, steady trot just before sunup. I was reassured by the less-than-frantic pace and started to believe for the first time that I might not be in quite as far over my head as I previously thought. Then everything changed.
The Riding Center had nine horses in the race. One rider, Mike, started toward the front of the field of 200-plus horses. Sarah Sanders and Kate Jordan were the last to leave camp because Kate was on an excitable stallion. The rest of us—Rodger Davis, Katie Davis, Sally, Amanda, Elena Macia, and I were somewhere in the middle. Within minutes of the start Katie’s horse Amiga tied up, so she and Rodger, her sponsor, were out. We trotted on. Sally was sponsoring both remaining junior riders, so a short time later when Elena’s horse Fabayah tied up, the three of them proceeded very slowly toward water and assistance for the mare while I trotted ahead on Lyric, an upset gelding whom I barely knew. As Lyric nervously climbed Squaw Peak tugging on the reins and franticly calling out, absolute dread of the next ninety miles replaced those earlier, more confident feelings. Robinson Flats, the first vet check and hold located 36 miles into the ride, might as well have been on the moon!
About the time I thought our situation couldn’t get much worse, my jittery mount freaked at one of the 37 gazillion rocks along this incredibly scenic trail and tossed me over the side. Here is where I strongly suspect divine intervention. I landed without my characteristic THUD, cradled by sage brush on the steeply banked side of the mountain. I cannot begin to explain how I managed to hold onto the last two inches of one of my split reins. As I lay there on my back, rein in one hand, arm stretched way over my head, head cocked back, staring straight up Lyric’s nostrils, a female rider came to my assistance. First, she yelled “Rider down” just as loudly as possible. I’m not sure if she was only trying to embarrass me further or if she had a valid reason for broadcasting my predicament. Regardless, she then dismounted and held Lyric so that I could roll over and climb out of there. I thanked her, she remounted and rode on.
I stood beside Lyric catching my breath and wondering at the futility of mounting again just a few feet from the scary rock that set this whole scenario into motion. Then, miraculously, a cherubic voice called out my name. “Paula, how’s it going?” This is where my faith was truly renewed. Turning to my right I spied two horses approaching out of the dust, one a springy young bay gelding, the other a no-longer-so-excitable black stallion, and their riders Sarah Sanders and Kate Jordan. Perhaps I had conked my head a little harder than I realized, but in that moment I thought I saw halos, not helmets, on their heads, and as the three of us trotted off together, Robinson Flats was once again within reach.
The Riding Center had nine horses in the race. One rider, Mike, started toward the front of the field of 200-plus horses. Sarah Sanders and Kate Jordan were the last to leave camp because Kate was on an excitable stallion. The rest of us—Rodger Davis, Katie Davis, Sally, Amanda, Elena Macia, and I were somewhere in the middle. Within minutes of the start Katie’s horse Amiga tied up, so she and Rodger, her sponsor, were out. We trotted on. Sally was sponsoring both remaining junior riders, so a short time later when Elena’s horse Fabayah tied up, the three of them proceeded very slowly toward water and assistance for the mare while I trotted ahead on Lyric, an upset gelding whom I barely knew. As Lyric nervously climbed Squaw Peak tugging on the reins and franticly calling out, absolute dread of the next ninety miles replaced those earlier, more confident feelings. Robinson Flats, the first vet check and hold located 36 miles into the ride, might as well have been on the moon!
About the time I thought our situation couldn’t get much worse, my jittery mount freaked at one of the 37 gazillion rocks along this incredibly scenic trail and tossed me over the side. Here is where I strongly suspect divine intervention. I landed without my characteristic THUD, cradled by sage brush on the steeply banked side of the mountain. I cannot begin to explain how I managed to hold onto the last two inches of one of my split reins. As I lay there on my back, rein in one hand, arm stretched way over my head, head cocked back, staring straight up Lyric’s nostrils, a female rider came to my assistance. First, she yelled “Rider down” just as loudly as possible. I’m not sure if she was only trying to embarrass me further or if she had a valid reason for broadcasting my predicament. Regardless, she then dismounted and held Lyric so that I could roll over and climb out of there. I thanked her, she remounted and rode on.
I stood beside Lyric catching my breath and wondering at the futility of mounting again just a few feet from the scary rock that set this whole scenario into motion. Then, miraculously, a cherubic voice called out my name. “Paula, how’s it going?” This is where my faith was truly renewed. Turning to my right I spied two horses approaching out of the dust, one a springy young bay gelding, the other a no-longer-so-excitable black stallion, and their riders Sarah Sanders and Kate Jordan. Perhaps I had conked my head a little harder than I realized, but in that moment I thought I saw halos, not helmets, on their heads, and as the three of us trotted off together, Robinson Flats was once again within reach.
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