The Great Griffin Getaway

The next ride Grif and I enjoyed was a quick jaunt to the West Fork rail trail outside Glady. I park on a USFS road in a wide place I can turn the trailer around. It means I've got 0.6 miles of riding on the road to get to a connector trail to the rail trail, but I rarely see cars so it isn't a big deal. 

As with our other fall rides, the weather was perfect. Low humidity, lovely breeze, sun and clouds. The drought sucks for many reasons (and I'll be grateful for precipitation if/when we ever get it again), but the reliability of such stunning weather for riding is lovely. 

Grif and I set out from the trailer and made quick work of the road section. When we reached the connector trail, I turned on my audiobook and we walked along toward the rail trail. I took a moment to ponder how Grif would be with the small stream crossing, but didn't dwell on it much. I knew I could lead him over if he was having an I-hate-small-stream-crossings moment - something he does entirely too frequently for a trail horse with the miles and experience he has. 

Unfortunately for me, this was an I-hate-small-stream-crossings day for Grif. First, he eyed the bridge that he hates more than all bridges - a bridge we don't cross anymore due to it's slickness wet or dry. I don't wholly know if it was the presence of the bridge (about 15-feet from where we'd cross the stream) or something else entirely, but Grif plum refused to walk within 15-20 feet of the stream crossing. It was like an invisible forcefield propelled us away. Each time I'd ask him to walk forward, he'd hit the invisible barrier and spin around. I executed Kate Little's 4-second rule with my asks so he could think, but it didn't result in a different outcome. 

With exasperation, I dismounted. I unclipped his reins from the bit and clipped one end to his halter and took the other end and led him forward. I trudged into the water and Grif planted his feet firmly on the side of the creek. Cue more 4-second asks and nothing but firm "NO" answers from Grif. Around the third ask and tug on the rein, Grif did his signature head toss of defiance (always his go-to refusal move in ground work) and my reins broke. 

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool. 

Griffin and I shared a split second of staring at one another in disbelief before he whirled and trotted away from me. 

COOL. 

COOL, COOL, COOL.

I called the dogs to come with and swiftly set off after Griffin, calling him intermittently, but not trying too hard because I knew he wouldn't listen. 

Fortunately, he quit trotting after 200 feet or so and picked up a brisk walk. He maintained this bubble of distance from me as I trudged after him muttering under my breath and pondering how this was going to play out. 

Where the trail met the road, he paused for a moment and let me get within 8 feet of him before darting away at a trot again. -_-

At this point, all I could do was hope he had the wherewithal to stop at the trailer. The treats were in there! And that's where the saddle went to live so he could be done with "work"! And it was the magical vessel back to his friends!

I trudged along after Griffin - who was now a solid 500 feet or more ahead of me - continuing to mutter under my breath while I pondered how this would play out. The way I figured, if he didn't stop at the trailer, the dogs and I would hop in the truck and drive after him. Once we could get in front of him, I'd stop and jump out and hopefully catch him. If that failed, there were plenty of folks out enjoying the day in Glady and someone was bound to catch him for me. 

As we approached the trailer, Grif paused at another trailhead. This trail headed toward home, but would be quite the trek. It would also take him into a wilderness area. 

"Don't you dare you, asshole," I threatened him. 

He turned and continued down the road at a trot. And continued right on past my trailer. 

Motherf---er...

About this moment, a F150 pickup came down the road behind me. They saw this all unfold and came up beside me. It was two older gentlemen who had spent the morning fishing. 

"You wanna hop in the bed and we'll take you to him?" the driver asked me. 

I sighed, smiled, and told him, "That'd be great."

I dropped the tailgate, had Taiga jump up, and grabbed Gidget before plopping on the tailgate and signaling I was ready.

Off we went. As we passed my trailer, the driver sped up to 25-30mph. I couldn't see ahead, but his acceleration told me Griffin must have really boogied down the road! Asshole. 

About a half mile from my trailer, the truck slowed as it came alongside my now walking horse. As the truck came to a stop, I hopped off and grabbed Griffin. He seemed a little disappointed to see me, to be honest. 

I thanked the fishermen and wished them a good day before turning to lead Grif back down the road to the trailer. 

"You thought that'd get you out of work, but guess again, buddy! I've got more reins in the truck. We're still going to do 10 miles today," I told him as we walked. 

And that's exactly what we did. 

With the addition of a riding crop and two smart smacks at the stream crossing on our way to the rail trail, it was a complete nonissue the second time. The rest of our ride on the rail trail was completely (and blessedly) uneventful, and the crossing on the return was a nonissue, as well. 

All in all, we did 10.5 miles - including the miles we were separated. It ended up being a really good day, and I'm really glad I didn't let the beginning of the outing deter me from making the most of another beautiful fall day.