12/12/2020 – Roadrunners and Monkey brains.
Cindy and I prepaid our entry fee's for the “Do you want to build a snowman” shoot at the Larkyn arena. We were on the road to New River by 11:00 am. Earlier, Cindy printed off two copies of AQHA transfer papers for Leslie, the gal that bought J'Lo. Leslie and J'Lo will be at the shoot. My neighbor had sent J's registration papers certified mail on Monday. According to tracking, the Aguila PO received them Friday afternoon. We stopped at the PO on our way to New River. Apparently, the Pony Express route between Phoenix and Aguila is based on dog years. The papers had not arrived. I text Leslie and let her know I would deliver them once they arrived. I wanted to check out more of the country anyway.
One hour, twenty two minutes and one U-turn later brought us safely to the Larkyn arena.
The small parking area was packed with the Scottsdale Saddle Club horse show. Western and English classes vied for the judges attention in the arena. There was no room for our rigs until the show was over. Ed, self proclaimed as the man assigned to take care of us for the weekend, directed us as to where we were to camp and pen our horses once the show rigs cleared out. In the meantime, We found a place to park along the road.
We unloaded and saddled with plans to ride the foothills around New River. We had parked next to a trail guide who was in the process of outfitting a young couple from Michigan. The man wore khaki shorts and the woman sat her mount in a pair of thin, stretchy yoga pants. We assumed neither had yet to encounter the ever present jumping cholla.
As I ride through the diverse landscape of the Arizona desert, I am often struck with an overwhelming sense of awe and wonderment. I can not believe I am here. I feel immensely blessed to be experiencing this amazing creation. Every aspect is a delight to my senses. From the Saguaro sky-lined against a vivid blue sky to the vibrant Palo Verde trees nestled in swell after swell. From the smells of grease-wood to the sensation of an arid landscape across your skin. The shrill screech of a hawk souring in the turbulent breeze hundreds of feet overhead can be heard as clear as if they are mere feet away. It truly takes my breath away.
We rode for a few miles before spotting the outfitter and his clients. We pulled off the trail and waited for them. Cindy flashed a big smile, waved and exclaimed on what a beautiful day it was. The guide, possibly smitten by this pretty girl on a good-looking sorrel pulled up and waved back. “I see by the way you sit a horse you must be from Idaho.” Oh brother. I rolled my eyes...”Yeah,” I said - “Or maybe you could tell by her license plate when you left the parking lot.” The bursting bubble was audible. I don't intend to be mean (most of the time) but sometimes I open my mouth and sarcasm spews forth. I'm working on it. I've gotten better...it's a 12 step program. I've been on step 1.3 for 50 some years. True recovery doesn't happen overnight.
The parking lot had thinned out by the time we unsaddled. The spot we were to camp was vacated. We parked the rigs and proceeded to settle the horses in their pens. Dave and Melodi Beckman had pulled in not long after. One other shooter pulled in next to us. I recognized the man from the Tombstone shoot as the guy on the gray horse that ran by Blake and me after the ride into Tombstone. Actually twice, as he'd taken the wrong trail...twice. It's almost refreshing knowing somebody out there might have a sense of direction worse than mine.
The horse pens are connected to one end of the arena. The same arena as the English class was currently being judged. A little arranging was in order to get the pens ready for the horses. Some panels needed to be moved and or removed. I wasn't paying any attention to the horse show and you sure as hell couldn't hear anything going on. Cindy grabbed one end of a panel and I the other. We were about to send it flying into the alley when a prim and proper lady all decked out in her English finery came trotting by the fence. She was all bug-eyed and a bit tense as her nicely collected English forward moving steed, equally bug-eyed and tense – realized we were about to send a metal panel flying in there direction. Cindy realized it before I did and suggested we hold off a bit. The grateful English lady mouthed a sigh of relief and thanked us for not getting her bucked off in the middle of her performance.
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| An English class: Be very, very quiet |
You could have heard a pin drop in that arena. You would have no idea there was a show underway if you hadn't seen it. The horses cantered around without making a sound. No leather squeaking...no horses grunting or snorting. Even the judges whispered! “now canter to the low end of the arena please.” I'd be like: “WHAT!? There's cantaloupe in the arena? Where!? I like cantaloupe!”
I stomped up the metal bleachers to get a decent view of the show in process. Spectators sat in complete silence. What the hell is with this horse show? I snapped a few pictures and bounced back down the bleachers. The sound echoed throughout what could have passed as a wake. I turned to a spectator: “Dang, are these things always this quiet?” She simply nodded. Hint taken. I meandered back to the trailers knowing full well Jack and I would never be show quality...and that's perfectly OK by both of us.
I tied the dogs to the trailer after taking them for a walk. I was on the other side when I heard a man yelling: “MONKEY! COME BACK! Monkey...get back here!.” What the hell...now we have monkey's on the loose? If they're them damn flying monkey's, I'm heading back to Aquila.
I heard Shade growl. I stepped around to her side of the trailer to find out what the commotion was. An overstuffed yellow lab was smack in the middle of Shade and Hanks personal space. Anybody that's camped with me over the years is aware that Shade is protective about her trailer. She's never bit anybody, but she has taken them by the hand and escorted them away from her trailer.
The man fumbled around with Monkey's leash...finally gets it attached. Monkey lurches against the leash and drags the man right in the middle of Shade and Hank. Monkey dashes underneath Shade and literally lifts her off her feet. A few years ago had this happened, Shade would have had Monkey brains for dinner. Today, however, Shade is old, deaf and broke down in the back end. The man, still trying to pull off his dog, thought it was kind of cute I guess. He laughed. Probably more nervous than malicious. Shade gave it the best she could, threw her weight into it and got Monkey on his/her side with her mouth around her throat. She didn't bite down, but Monkey figured out in a hurry she'd picked the wrong playmate. Shade doesn't have the agility to heft herself off Monkey. The man finally drags the dog from under Shade. Then he proceeds to try to pet Hank and Shade. Dude! Do you want to get bit? Even docile Hank looked like he wanted a piece of him.
Monkey was just being a goofy dog that wanted to play and picked the wrong trailer to do it. Had all the dogs been loose they probably would have played and got along fine. As it was, the whole ordeal shook Shade up pretty good and it hurt her. She wanted back in her trailer away from guard duty and overstuffed Monkey's flying or otherwise.
We pulled the “girlie card” on Dave and shamed him into unhooking and taking us all into the Roadrunner for dinner. Cindy and I noticed the restaurant/bar on the way in. It looked way too cool to pass up. The roadrunner did not disappoint. The food was great, the atmosphere inviting and the bartender/waiter didn't bat an eye when he brought me the fix'in's for my Jeep'in Juice formula.
That evening, I drug out the man magnet (propane fire ring) and set it up between Cindy's and Beckman's trailer. I'm fresh out of cranberry juice. Fortunately, Fireball goes equally well with apple juice. What doesn't go well with Fireball? Mayonnaise maybe? I doubt Fireball goes well with Mayonnaise.
We sat around the man magnet, took the obligatory feet picture and solved the worlds problems until the wind came up and blew our ambitions back to our trailers. As I type this – my trailer is rocking back and forth and not for all the fun reasons. I am not a fan of the wind. I hope it stops before our shoot tomorrow. It will be interesting to see how Jack reacts to seeing J'Lo. Hopefully she doesn't make him stupid as past experience dictates will happen. It will be my first competition on Jack in some time. We have a full class, which is cool. My goal is to shoot all my balloons and not worry about placing. I think we will do fine.
12-13-2020 – Do the Clint Squint
My hopes of a wind free and warm day were dashed the minute I woke freezing my butt off. I'm in Arizona for Pete's sake, this is not supposed to be happening. I switched the heat on and pulled up the security camera set at my property in Idaho. Three inches of snow and 19° put things in perspective. Suck it up buttercup – it's time to put on your granny panties and kill some balloons.
I wasn't planning on competing off Jack in a CMSA shoot until we got some time and practice under our belts. I figured on sticking to jackpots and clean shooter events until we worked on our rating and control. I'd already signed up for the “Do you want to build a snowman” shoot in New River before I sold J'Lo. It was pre-pay, so I'd be going with the intent of putting in for the clean shooter side pot and not worry about the rest.
Jack let me know J'Lo was in the area as soon as she arrived. He was tied at the trailer while I finished getting geared up for the shoot. I could tell from the first nicker J-Bird was in the building.
Those two horses drew together like two fuzzy magnets. It was sweet and sad at the same time. They nuzzled. Jack arched his neck and gave her his sexiest nicker. J'Lo nickered back, pinned her ears back and gave him her usual benign nip and that was that. Just like old times.
J'Lo looked so good; immaculately groomed and tacked up like a superstar. Best of all, she looked happier than I've ever seen. Soft eyed, ears forward and content. This is the life I hoped and prayed for her. Leslie was beaming. Leslie and I chatted while Jack and J stood quietly nose to nose. Leslie was a little nervous...this would be her first time shooting off J. What!? I was shocked...that is one brave girl. I could no more compete off a horse before putting them through their paces than fly. She was nervous, but confident. Each run was better than the previous. This is going to be a team to watch out for. I was so happy, I didn't care how me and Jack did. Best of all...this would not be the last time Jack and J got to see each other. We will be going to the same shoots, practices and clinics this winter and Leslie and I agreed to keep in touch and go trail riding as well. I sold a mare and gained a friend.
Our first stage was smooth and clean. Cold and windy, but clean! It was one of the new courses, #82. Frankly, it sucks IMHO. There are multiple ways to run it. I opted to run up the middle and shoot most of them off...letting the wind work for me instead of against me. It seemed to work. We weren't fast, but we were clean. Our time was better than I expected though - especially since we broke into a trot in the random. Jack's gait is deceiving. His long stride is faster than it looks and feels.
The second stage was another new course, #85. You have to shoot two gates but I like it. I thought we were going to smoke it. We picked up a little speed – shot the random clean and headed for the rundown. I slipped hammered on the second to last balloon causing me to leave two standing. Shit. So much for the nice clean shooter check. Still, I was happy with the way Jack ran and rounded the barrel and with clean shooter out, we had nothing to lose.
I tied Jack to the trailer between stages. I wondered how he would do having J'Lo out of sight but within earshot. They whinnied back and forth some, but stayed put and patient. My boy is maturing.
I didn't know for sure where we stood in the standings. I felt like we might pull off a 2nd if I didn't miss any balloons on the last stage. 1st wasn't out of the question if I shot the last stage clean and didn't dilly-dally. We aren't ready to move up to the SL4's. J'Lo is outrunning Jack by an average of 3 seconds per stage. I would be happy with 2nd. In order to pull off second, I could not miss a balloon...my closest competition to 2nd place was 2 seconds behind me.
Course #26 is a big T that starts at the far end of the arena by the rundown barrel. Jack and I sat in the arena waiting for the range master to give us the go. Hum...with Jack's long stride...we could make up the 2.6 seconds needed to win this thing. No pain, no gain. No safety'ing up. I decided to ask for a little more speed heading down the arena. Jack complied with that big long stride. Unfortunately, it takes a football field to get him turned around. Especially when his rider doesn't Q him to do otherwise. We blew out the random barrel...I miraculously hit the first two strong shots and ended up in the middle of the T wondering which way to go next. We overcompensated trying to hit the cross shot. Jack's hind-end whipped around taking out the #7 rundown balloon with his big-ole butt. I felt it and new we knocked it over but I had no idea if the balloon had popped or where it ended up. You can knock over a rundown target without penalty if the balloon does not pop and you pick it up on your way through the rundown. First place was out even if we did pick up the balloon. We took up too much time floundering around in the middle of the T trying to get back on course and hit those damn balloons.
We rounded the rundown barrel and picked off #6. The #7 balloon lay outside the rundown covered in arena dirt. It was still intact. I've never had to pick off a grounded balloon, but I can now say you feel kind of bad-ass when you do! That balloon was going down. I stretched out, squinted my eyes (not because I think it looks cool...but because I can't see worth shit that far) and shot it dead. The rest of the rundown didn't stand a chance. It wasn't pretty....it wasn't fast, but we got it done.
Cindy has had a bad case of the last course curse. Her and Cowboy smoke every single run...almost always shooting clean up to the last course when the curse strikes. I was sure she was going to break the curse this time. I was filming her so didn't see what happened until I looked at the video later. She made her usual smoking run that defies physics, rounds the rundown and suddenly, Cowboy inexplicably drifts into the center of the rundown plowing over a target. Cindy couldn't shoot it unless she shot between his ears.
We almost packed it up and left but I was fairly certain I might get a 2nd place check. I knew Cindy was bummed and felt bad holding her up to wait while I picked up my major reward..if there even was one. We went in search of the over-all results, if there were any. Maybe we could tell if we needed to stay or not. The results were posted at the far end of the arena. We didn't have to do any calculation...they had the results posted. I took 2nd place. I still felt bad for Cindy. I was about to tell her to head on without me and I'd follow as soon as I picked up my check. Jack deserved that much. We glanced down the results page to Cindy's SL5 class...winning her class by over 7 seconds: Cindy Crandall. Wow...I'm not a hugger, but I was so happy for her, for Cowboy, for me, for Jack...for J'Lo ...that I had to give her a quick hug...and not a lame, awkward side-hug I'm famous for, either.
I always take lessons away from my experiences. This shoot was no different. It wasn't a fancy shoot held in a fancy arena and the weather was less than ideal. It was a simple, one day shoot put on by some hard working people that put on multiple shoots every year to give us mounted shooters something to look forward to. It wasn't the biggest check I've won, but it wasn't the smallest, either. It paid enough that I was able to shoot and have fun for less than 10 bucks. Can't complain about that.
The lessons I took home are worth that and more. I learned that I am not the only one that can give my critters the home they deserve. Knowing that J'Lo is cherished and cared for warms my heart. The fact that her and Leslie are a better match than me and her is priceless. I've learned much from watching Cindy shoot. Her and Cowboy go out there and give it their all each and every run. To safety up is not an option. Even in a clean shooter Jackpot...they run as hard as they would if they were entered in the worlds. I admire that.
While I realize Jack and I have a lot of work ahead of us, I learned you don't really know what yo
u need to work on until you get out there at an actual competition and see what you got. I cringe when I see the videos of me pulling his head up to my face because I'm still getting the hang of short reins. I can fix that. I learned to be more aggressive on the hammer to prevent slip hammering. I learned we need to work on rating and snappy turns. I don't think I ever did Q him to make that barrel turn...how is he supposed to know!
I learned to reach out and track every single balloon – just like you would if you were hunting and tracking the one your horse blew out of the rundown with his big'ole butt and your 2nd place check depended on you hitting it. If you need to channel your inner Clint Eastwood and squint your eyes to get it done, so be it. You might feel a bit bad-ass when you do, too.
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