Annapolis Rock

We hunted yesterday in the beautiful 70 degree weather. Location was Annapolis Rock (my favorite!). True to form, nothing happened for the first two hours and then we hit the "one o'clock fox" and had a 35 minute run over hill and dale and then we were all so incredibly hot (horses, hounds and humans) that we called it a day.

Of note:

• I drove the small trailer with Burton and my friend Amanda's mount. I was very excited, convinced it would all go better than last time because my only passenger was my friend Amanda, a supporting, soothing, wise and experienced soul.
• Everything went exceedingly well for the first two and a half minutes until I hit my friend Crystal's truck before we even left the barn yard.
• Please note that Crystal was parked in an extremely stupid place -- leaving barely any room to get between her and a stone wall. I elected not to drive the horses into the stone wall but instead to slide by Crystal's bumper.
• The aluminum fender of my driver's side trailer wheel made contact with the passenger side front fender of Crystal's truck.
• Amanda and I immediately start worrying. OMIGOD! I HIT CRYSTAL's TRUCK! Do you think Dale saw? (she was in front with the big rig). Shall I keep going? Was that really bad?
• We keep driving. Me: Do you hear that funny noise? Is the fender hitting the trailer tire? Amanda: I don't hear anything. Do you see the tire smoking? If not, it's fine. Me: You don't here that weird whiny noise? I don't see any smoke -- that's good. Amanda: That whine is the sound of your diesel engine. Kim: Oh. Dang that's loud. Amanda: What does the damage look like? Kim: Looks bad, real bad. Fender all bashed up. Amanda: Don't tell Dale until after we're done hunting. Kim: Dale's gonna KILL me! Amanda: I'd be more worried about Crystal if I were you. Kim: I'm going to die. [note we do not wonder how the horses are, oddly]
• I did in fact drive exceedingly well the rest of the way and even made a hairpin turn into the fixture with no problem at all AND I pushed the four wheel drive button with no problem.
• We arrive at Annapolis Rock. We get out and rush to the trailer fender. There is a dent and a scrape and the fender was touching the tire. But, being aluminum, I was able to pull it right back into shape mostly except for the dent.
• Then I actually have the stupidity to ask Amanda if she thought I drove okay. She looked at me sideways and said, "well, uh, except for hitting that other truck, yeah, you did pretty good. I wasn't really that scared. Once we got over, you know, hitting the truck and all."
• Crystal did not notice anything amiss, believe it or not, until I went over to her truck once she finally arrived and pointed it out. She said, "Oh, whatever, that's just rubber. Rubs right off." How 'bout that?
• So that just left dealing with Dale -- which we agreed to do much later in the day.
• Then we finally opened the trailer and looked at the horses. They were both standing there very wide-eyed, as if they were saying, "Gee, that was .... different."
• Main features of the hunt were I almost fell off at the walk because I was turned around talking to Amanda and a tree came out of the woods and got itself all tangled up in my hat/head/reins, etc. I was pulled all the way down like I was doing the limbo off the back of my horse -- I thought my hat was going to get ripped off. I stayed on amid shrieks of laughter from everyone else in the field and Burton looked back at me as if to say, "I'm SO EMBARRASSED."
• From then on for the rest of the day the man riding in front of me would turn around to say "Low branch Kim, be careful, hah hah hah." Whatever. This is, of course, why one is always told to try to face in the direction one's horse is traveling.
• Then, our run was notable because the hounds got the scent on a hot southerly wind which is apparently almost unheard of. Good hounds.
• Kathy Brighoff's horse tried to roll with her on it and she stood next to it on the ground with her reins in her hand kicking at him with the toe of her boot in a very funny looking way and hollering "get up you idiot! get up!" (letting your horse roll like that, even if you manage to get off in time, is a good way to ruin your saddle).
• When we were done, we took all the horses down to the river for a drink and a cool down.
  Then Rich Roemer's horse actually did roll in the water without any regard for Rich. This earned Rich the "Rubber Ducky Award" which goes to the rider with who takes the most interesting spill in the water during the season. People started singing "Rubber Ducky, you're the one! You make hunting lots of fun!" on our amble through the pine trees back to the trailers.
• The weather was so warm that it made the pine needles smell yummy just like summers down South in pine tree land. And the warm breeze and the visit to the river was all very summery.
• Later that night at the barn I show Dale the trailer. And you would never believe it but she says to me, "you actually did not make that dent. Ironically, Crystal made that dent herself a few years in a similar vehicular mishap." Can you believe that? What are the chances? No wonder she wasn't peeved. Dale also said she was perfectly fine with the scrape on the fender because at least now the fender looked a little bit shiny in one place and wasn't that nice?
• But we had a lot of fun with Robbie later on -- Dale made us a yummy venison dinner. I say very casually -- "so, I did a great job driving the trailer today. Went fast where I was supposed to and slow where I was supposed and didn't clobber the horses and even did the hairpin turn into Annapolis Rock with no problem. I was really proud of myself. You would have been really proud of me too." Robbie looks at me in wonderment. "Dang." A moment of silence. Then Dale can't help herself any longer --- "Yeah, she did real good. Great Except that she HIT CRYSTAL'S TRUCK BEFORE SHE EVEN GOT OUT OF THE YARD!!!" Hoots of laughter from me and Dale. Robbie literally sits down on the floor and looks at me with a totally shocked expression on his face. Dale finally explains to him that Crystal had in fact parked in a really stupid place etc. etc. but closes by looking at me and saying, "but nevertheless, I think it will be a while before we let you drive the big rig." Oh well.

The Old Fashion Race

I rode in our Old Fashion point to point today -- this is a horse race where the objective is to make it through three designated "points" out in open hunt territory in the fastest possible time. It doesn't matter what route you take or what order you do the points in -- literally, the fastest route between point A and point B wins. You have to turn in a poker chip with your number on it at each point to prove you actually made it around.

Points were the abandoned caboose on the Jefferson Farm, Wendy Tackis's Gate (we knew it!) and a fat log in the woods on the way to Brown's Chapel Road.

Thirty-three horses raced.

I came in fourth over all and Burton won the award for fastest non-thoroughbred horse.

The winning time was 27 minutes and something. We came in just over 31 minutes. Slowest time was an hour and a half.

Pretty much galloped the whole way -- jumped a stone wall and an enormous tree and some telephone poles, as well as several streams and banks. This means we were literally standing up in our stirrups for a solid half hour which is tiring even for those of us who ride all the time.

Footing was very slick so the horses worked real hard and were blowing for a good long while when were done and totally lathered.

Hardest part was heading for the finish line through what I call the "tube orchards.". Baby trees planted everywhere with plastic tubes around them to protect them. It's like skiing a slalom course on horse back only your hands are very sweaty at this point and it is hard to steer effectively because you can't grip the reins very well (no gloves on because that hampers one's ability to get the poker chips out of the pocket of one's ladies' hunting frock). So horses essentially bashed through the tube orchards and tubes flew everywhere.

Burton tried to manoeuvre around them all because he is rather nimble and also smart but didn't tell me which way he was going until the last minute for most of the tubes so at least once we had to sort of jump around a tube and at least one tube met its botanical demise and I'm sure I did not win any points for style. Robbie -- who was two horses ahead of me (came in second) -- basically took out an entire diagonal line of tubes up and over both orchard fields trying to catch Giggles. He made a stupendous noise. Steering is not his forte.

My barn cleaned up the awards -- we got first through fifth places and then seventh through tenth, and won fastest overall (Jennifer on Giggles), fastest non-thoroughbred (Burton), fastest woman over forty (Karen on Godiva), fastest woman under forty (chick who came in right behind me so I was TECHNICALLY the fastest woman under forty), fastest man under forty (Robbie), fastest staff member (Dale) and also fastest maiden rider (not me, even though I qualified for that too -- they try to spread out the awards).

My trophy is an enormous silver bowl -- The Margaret Gallagher Memorial Bowl -- with the names of the fastest non-thoroughbred horses and their rider's engraved on it back to 1988.

Pleasant Conversations While Fox Hunting

We went foxhunting yesterday for the first time in almost month. We have been snowed in and then plagued by an outbreak of equine herpes since the day after the Hunt Ball, which was Feb. 10.

Everyone was most excited.
Notable events:

• We had nine horses to get ready in the morning. Our three person crew was a little rusty from its hiatus. I was the leg, belly and hoof lady, Robbie was the head, face and back guy, and we fought over who had to do the tail. Brittany was the tack girl (mainly). Dale roved around and told us all what we're doing wrong, as per usual.
• Two hours later, once all the horses were cleaned and tacked, it was time to make our human selves beautiful. I was very excited to wear my new proper ladies' hunt frock that I had purchased on a recent shopping trip to Virginia hunt country along with a genuine English vest with a wool back (very hard to find, oddly). My frock is as heavy as a curtain and lined with wool and very smart. My vest has 6 buttons down the front, way more than the lousy 4 buttons on my nasty old sateen-backed vest.
• We load up the trailers and then I go to put my stuff in the truck for the big rig, where I usually ride with Dale. Robbie usually drives the small trailer. Instead, I am waylaid and told to put my stuff in the small. "Put your stuff in here." "Why?" "Cuz you're driving this trailer." "Oh. What are you going to drive?" "Nothing, I'm passengering with you." It was Dale's plan to train me to drive the trailer. I think this is all good and well except I suspect that having Robbie as my chaperone would be like learning to drive with a cross between your father and your despised ex-boyfriend.
• And I was right. As soon as we pull off the property it begins. "Speed up. Okay, slow down. Speed up. You can go the speed limit. The speed limit is 40 here. Slow down. Don't go so fast. Why are you going so slow. You just clobbered the horses. Hope the horses are okay. Easy on the turn. Don't stop at this stop sign. STOP AT THE STOP SIGN! Okay, that's okay. Pretty good, I guess. Beep and wave at the landowner ('HELLOOOOOOOOOO landowner!"). Okay, you can speed up again. You don't need to go so fast on the curve. Make a hard right but don't stop. Roll. Roll. Roll. Don't stop ("but Robbie there's a car coming") okay stop but be careful about the horses. No brakes down this hill use your momentum. Put on your brakes down the hill! Etc." At one point he made his point about how I could go a little faster by leaning over and physically pushing my foot down on the gas. I got the point. Every now and then I got "hey, I really like this song" or "you got any cookies in your fancy new ladies' frock?" but mainly it was stop go slow fast left right, etc.
  Our exhausting 15 minute drive culminated with me pulling into the yard at the kennels to a sudden outburst from him "PUSH THE BUTTON! PUSH THE BUTTON! YOU NEED THE BUTTON! NOW! NOW! THE BUTTON!!!" I had no idea what was going on. What button? There is total chaos in the cab of the truck. Are we going to explode? We both start screaming. Finally Robbie leans all the way across me and pushes a tiny, hidden, virtually invisible button between the steering wheel and the driver's side window to turn on the four wheel drive. He thought without it we'd get stuck in the four feet of grass we had to drive across at the kennels.
• We were so ridiculously early, despite all that, that we stayed in the truck with the heated seats and started sipping our flasks and eating cookies. The angst of the drive was quickly forgotten. Other trailers arrive and note that I am in the driver's seat, not Robbie. Many of the women nod with approval (you go girl!). They do not know what it took to get there.
  The hunt itself was quite wonderful. There was lots of ice and snow in the woods, and we stayed mainly in the woods. Horses, hounds and humans were most happy to be out. It was cool -- mid-40s, but my curtain-esque ladies' frock and wool-backed vest kept me warm and toasty. Burton was one of the few horses still in shape from the snow storms (lots of people couldn't exercise their horses at all of late) so we cruised effortlessly up and down all the hills, through the mud, muck, ice and snow, through the creeks, over the bean-fields, etc.
• I learned how to gallop down hill on a sheet of ice. Not as hard as you think. You basically just can't think about the fact that it is ice.
• I learned how to jump down hill into clouds of kicked-up snow. I used to be terrified of jumping downhill AND of riding in snow. And now I think my favorite thing may just be jumping down hill in snow!
• Robbie was whipping a little and went off into the woods to get a hound that had become inappropriately obsessed with a groundhog. He starts whopping at the hound to "leave it! leave it!" Sounded a lot like his driving instructions, actually. The hound ignored him and broke the groundhog's neck and then brought the groundhog over to the field and presented it to us with great pride. Carter then starts in on the hound, "leave it! leave it!" Hound moves up the field and passes me and I say "leave it!" too even though I'm not sure I'm supposed to as a mere lowly member of the field and not staff or honorary staff or even a person with colors or anything. Amazingly, the hound drops the groundhog right next to me and Burton! Burton looks at back at me in shock, as if to say, "Dang woman! The hound did what you said!"
• Roger our master was quite entertaining on this ride because he told us that our Old Fashioned Point to Point race would be at this same fixture on Saturday. This is basically an intra club races where you have to get from start to finish by going through three designated "points" and the fastest one there (who is usually the one who knows the territory the best) wins. So the whole day he is dropping hints like, "well, here we are at the bridge on Long Corner Road -- could be a point!" Or, "some of you may know that we call this Morris's Pond. So if that's a point, now you know!" Or, "this is the fence line on Wendy Tackis's property. So would you have any idea what I meant if I said Point 2 is the intersection of the gas line and Wendy Tackis's gate? Hmmm? Anyone? Get the point? Hah ha!" Everyone took careful note of everything.
• Afterwards Robbie did not let me drive (shocking) and instead we went to lunch at a place in Mt. Airy. Being in the truck when Robbie is behind the wheel is like going on a personal guided tour of Vehicular Mishaps Through the Ages. Imagine Boomhauer from King of the Hill, or a Maryland tobacco auctioneer, describing the first time he ever drove over this particular hill in a sports car with his buddies in high school ("I tell you what, we had NO IDEA this hill was here until we were 30 feet up in the air looking down at it! Dang!), or whether that rotted jeep in so-and-so's drive way could pull his jeep out of the river, or how we could hunt so-and-so's farm if only we could get the rigs up the road without getting stuck like the time he did with a 27 million horse trailer and only a 2 cylinder motorcycle engine (or maybe it was just a bicycle chain, can't remember) but he SUCH AN AMAZING DRIVER that he was the only one who made it in (dang), or describing the time he called 911 cuz some woman went off the road into the river Right At this Very Spot Here on Daisy Road, Kim! and was screaming her head off so at least he knew she wasn't hurt that much, ("I tell you what Kim, If you're screaming, you can't be that hurt."). I also learn every iota of his work schedule for the week, even the extremely boring parts of it. I learn his views about Country Music Old and New (he prefers New).
• I observe a pretty bird flying in the air. I say, "that's a loon, my Mom told me all about it." Response: "Dang that ain't nothing for a big bird -- once I saw this pterodactyl, and it was 27 million inches wide, and it had brown AND black feathers and was carrying a baby tyrannosaurus rex in its mouth which it almost dropped on my jeep but I tell you what me and my buddies GUNNED THAT THING and got back to the Outtatheway Cafe just in time but it sure was a close call...." Etc.
• We get to our lunch spot. It still strikes me as odd to drive up to a diner with two fully loaded horse trailers in full hunting attire (we are careful to take our spurs off before entering), and walk into to sit down to an hour+ meal with a bunch of people who have just come from church. Horses just hang out in the parking lot in the trailers. What if someone stole them? What if they got in a fight? What if they get cold? Don't people think we're weird in our canary vests and tall boots?
• At lunch I learned that somewhat unexpectedly that not all country people demand the same level of polite cocktail party chit chat that I'm used to or that my colleagues require at firm outings or that Robbie appears to indulge in while driving the truck. There I am, shell shocked from my cacophonous truck ride, vainly trying to make conversation with everyone, asking them about their upcoming plans, seeing if they enjoyed the day's sport, etc. I notice that no-one else is talking much. Dale eventually says, "you know Kim, we don't normally talk this much." I say, "oh?" She says, "yeah, if you weren't here, we'd be sitting in companionable silence." I look at Robbie suspiciously (surely HE would not be silent?). Robbie smiles and suggests I practice some companionable silence.
• And the irony of that just takes my breath away.
• So the next time the boy is hollering at me in the trailer, or one-upping my nice loon with pterodactyl stories, or claiming to be totally non-plussed by a damsel in distress cuz "screaming equals consciousness" or some such nonsense, I plan to holler right back at him "Hey! Give me some Companionable Silence!" Like Castanza on Seinfeld -- SERENITY NOW!

And of course, that has become our new favorite joke.