Icelandic Chaps

Happy New Year, all!

This is the third year I've taken ALL pressure to ride off myself for the 10 darkest weeks of the year (November 16 - January 25), and it's been wonderful. However, my motivation to get out and ride is returning with the slowly lengthening days, so I expect the blog will slowly come back to life as I have more to write about. 

In the mean time, I wanted to share a short, funny story from Iceland.

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After our week-long riding tour with Stóri Kambur, Siggi and Atli drove us back to the city to meet the bus and head to our next accommodations. Some folks took the bus straight to the airport, while others, Kate and I included, had a few extra days to spend in Reykjavík and the Golden Circle. We stayed for three days, soaking it all in. 

As I briefly mentioned in the caption of an older post, I got very drunk on Icelandic “burning wine” our final night at Stóri Kambur. The following morning brought the worst hangover I’d had since June 2018. It was wretched. While I thankfully avoided the vertigo that plagued me in 2018, the nausea was intense, making for a very long drive from Snæfellsnes to Reykjavík.

I was back in the truck with Kate, Jacqueline, Tanja, and Siggi, the same group from our drive out to Stóri Kambur at the beginning of the week. After seven days together, they could all tell how miserable I felt by how uncharacteristically quiet I was.

Eventually, Siggi drew me into conversation about all things horses and Iceland, which helped distract me as the miles and hours passed. 

One of the topics that came up was the stunning custom leather chaps worn by all of our guides. It turns out Siggi works with a local leather worker who makes them and handles much of the tack used by his herd. I mentioned how much I’d love a pair, but wasn’t sure the timing was right and worried I wouldn’t get enough use out of them back home due to our increasingly long, hot, humid summers (ugh).

Siggi, undeterred, did not take my uncertainty as a no. At our next pit stop, he called the leather worker. By the time we climbed back into the truck, Siggi informed me that the leather worker could see me that day and that after dropping everyone else at the bus stop, he would take Kate and me to his workshop. From there, he would drop us at our guesthouse just up the hill.

Thank goodness for that, because my hungover self was not looking forward to schlepping my luggage uphill in any capacity.

And so Kate and I found ourselves zipping through Reykjavík in Siggi’s giant F350 Super Duty, headed to a leather worker who operated out of his home.

Siggi and the leather worker chatted in Icelandic while Kate and I admired the many beautiful wares on display. Before long, Siggi helped broker a deal, my measurements were taken, and the leather worker promised to have my custom chaps completed by that evening within four to five hours. He offered to meet me in town so I could try them on, and if any adjustments were needed, he would fix them and bring them back the next day.

We agreed he would meet me in Reykjavík either before or after our 7:00 p.m. dinner reservation with a few other riders from the trip.

With the deal done and payment exchanged, Siggi dropped us off at our guesthouse, where we rested before heading out to dinner.

Shortly after we were seated at the restaurant, I received a call from an unfamiliar number. Expecting the leather worker, I answered. Sure enough, it was him. He was already on his way to meet me at the guesthouse. The whole dinner reservation detail had been lost in translation earlier. Whoops.

With his broken English and my complete lack of Icelandic, we fumbled through a conversation trying to redirect him to the sushi restaurant downtown. Eventually, I had to hand my phone to the hostess because I couldn’t pronounce the name of the street we were on.

It took about 15 to 20 minutes to sort out. During that time, I stood outside on a narrow sidewalk along a one-way street, chuckling at how ridiculous and wonderful this story was becoming, while scanning for a jeep-like car.

Finally, I spotted him. I waved and smiled, and he pulled up, stopped right in the middle of the street, smiled back, and hopped out to make sure the chaps fit.

Yes, he stopped his car in the middle of a semi-busy one-way street in downtown Reykjavík to put full leather chaps on a random woman from the U.S. An absolute sight.

He gave a few tugs to the chaps once they were zipped and looked them over with a professional eye before asking me if they felt right. I beamed at him and confirmed that they were perfect. 

After exchanging apologies for the miscommunication and excessive gratitude on my part for his willingness to deliver them into town, we said goodbye. He jumped back into his car and drove off before too many drivers were stuck waiting behind him.

I unzipped the chaps, folded them up, and headed back into the restaurant, where four very giggly horse ladies were eagerly waiting to see them and hear the full story of my impromptu street fitting.

Only in Iceland.

In the end, I'm so very happy with my decision to get these chaps. I wore them all fall and they kept me warm, waterproof, and protected from thick brush on my trail riding adventures. I look forward to a lifetime wearing them. 

Honestly impressed they fit so easily over these wide leg pants

The photo Kate took and sent to our Stori Kambur group chat for all of the week's participants to see and celebrate

2025 Swan Song Ride

With the time change in effect and winter weather incoming, I planned my final swan song trail ride for November 8 while conditions were still pleasant. This ride, unlike my others this year, would be point-to-point - a first for me on my solo trail ride adventures at home!

Because I now know Huckleberry trail to the summit of Spruce Knob is easily passable by horse, I planned for a point-to-point summit ride beginning at Swallow Rock and ending atop Spruce Knob. While the ride could be as short as ~10.5 miles, I decided to fit in two trails I had yet to ride on in the Spruce-Seneca backcountry area, which would make my total ride ~15.5 miles with over 3,500 feet of elevation gain. It was slightly ambitious (there's no going back when you've got zero cell service on a point to point ride knowing you have to reach your trailer on the far end), but I felt confident enough in Griffin's fitness and my navigation skills to get it done in 6 hours or less.

The planned route went Swallow Rock (3.4 miles) → Seneca Creek (1.2 mi) → Judy Springs (0.7 mi) → Horton (0.7 mi) → High Meadow (2.1 mi) → Lumberjack (2 mi) → Huckleberry (4.6 mi) + a jaunt to the boulder field once atop Spruce Knob (0.8 mi). 

Across Gandy onto Swallow Rock

Nice to see a little more water in this stream!

Through the little rhodo tunnel

Lovely morning light

I love that Gidget always checks in on me

Across Seneca Creek

Seneca Creek trail superhighway

Saw several native brook trout along this section

Arriving at the start, I made quick work of tacking Grif up and heading out. With the crisp morning air, he was peppy and eager as we trotted down the road to the start of Swallow Rock trail. Thanks to rain the day before (FINALLY! we are in such a severe drought), there was a bit more flow in Gandy Creek, Seneca Creek, their tributaries, and along the trails for this ride. While Grif refused to drink all day (normal for him; it takes a longer and/or hotter ride for his brain to realize water is helpful/needed), the dogs were delighted with so much to drink. 

Grif powered up and down Swallow Rock trail easily, only balking mildly at one of the small stream crossings (something like our 6th one; you'd think he'd balk at the first one, but no, he waits for a rando one in the middle). Once we reached Seneca Creek, we were able to trot most of it to our junction with Judy Springs. Judy Springs took us up our second climb of the day, which Grif handled beautifully. We took it easy, me enjoying the scenery while he plodded along steadily. 

Judy Springs trail entering the open meadow area

At the next trail junction, we headed downhill on Horton to seek out the High Meadow trailhead - a trail I have never been on. Griffin was a bit unhappy to discover that Horton trail, while still incredibly easy to travel down, was consistently rockier than other trails so far that day. I felt like I could see his brain just oozing out of his ears from lack of comprehension about how to effectively position his feet as we traveled along. He has to work so hard to figure out how to put four (FOUR!) different feet down and move through the terrain. I lent him patience and encouragement as we traveled along though and in no time we found the High Meadow trailhead.

High Meadow trail intermittently traveled through dense successional habitat along meadow edges, meadows, and wooded areas that connected the meadows/successional habitat. Due to Grif's lack of confidence/ability with technical rocky areas, I did dismount and walk him through a few spots. None of them were dangerous or overly tricky, I could just tell that Grif needed the support of a leader and lack of rider so I gave it to him. 

I'd heard that High Meadow trail boasted some thorny sections, and I certainly found them, but nothing was impassable or overly frustrating. I do think the leaf-off period we're in helped with that and I think I'd only choose to travel the trail during leaf off for ease of passage in the future, but overall it wasn't as bad as I worried it might be. Due to the habitat types this trail passed through, I saw more birds than I did anywhere else on my travels, which was super cool. I bet that trail in the spring and early summer is an incredible birding spot!

Turning onto High Meadow from Horton. 

Open area of High Meadow trail

Back into the woods

Thinning woods about to open back into a meadow

More meadow

And back to the woods

Griffin's brain was oozing out his ears because of the rocks. They're not even that technical, but his poor head just doesn't naturally get it. I guess it's like making an arts/languages savant do calculus? We all have different strengths!

Laaaaaast little bit of High Meadow right before it merged into Lumber Jack

The farthest remote point on my ride this day was where High Meadow trail turns in to Lumberjack  trail. As we approached it (indicated by our elevation and mileage), I thought to myself how cool it was to be the only human out so far in the wilderness on this day. And on horseback to boot! 

Except funnily enough, right as I was entertaining those thoughts, I heard and saw two hikers ahead of me. Griffin, convinced he was never again going to see horses or people bugled his high pitched whinny to the two hikers. Both of them jumped out of their skin, which gave me a small giggle before I apologized profusely. (Being scared like that absolutely sucks, but I will never cease to be baffled at how hikers don't hear/see me on my horses traveling in these remote areas. We aren't exactly quiet in our movements through rocks and leaves + Grif in particular is large and white(ish) in color, which stands out starkly against the surroundings.)

After we passed the women, I wished them well on the rest of their hike. Shortly after, we turned onto Lumberjack trail. This trail afforded us many opportunities to intermittently trot, which was lovely after the slog of walking we'd had to do due to the terrain since Seneca Creek trail. 

We passed one person on Lumberjack, a bow hunter, and Griffin did not scream at him. I paused long enough to share the location I'd seen an absolutely GORGEOUS buck earlier in my ride and wished the hunter well. He was very grateful and sat down to scour his map to see how my beta aligned with his current location as the dogs and I carried onward. (Usually I greet hunters and move on, but when I encounter backcountry hunters I almost always share any beta on wildlife with them. They're out there really doing the thing compared to so many who just walk a short distance to a blind or treestand and wait.)

The start of Lumber Jack

So lovely!

Seriously lovely

With red spruce patches throughout

The rest of our travels on Lumberjack were smooth and the junction with Huckleberry popped up right when the mileage said it should. 

Huckleberry, while uneventful, was very slow going. Griffin's brain was absolutely OVER rocks at this point. You'd think that he would have learned how to travel through such terrain after 15 years of life in West Virginia, including over a decade under saddle on trails, but he just hasn't. I patiently sat on his back and helped guide him along with steady encouragement and praise, but it was painful for me to maintain patience with him as the miles went on. 

Griffin was such a good boy and he gave it his all, but oi vey. Rocky trails are just something that don't come naturally to him one little bit. And after so many miles on Q through the years and then experiencing the Icelandic horses for so many miles in September, Grif's struggles were just so much more apparent to me. 

It was a really lovely observation to make, to be honest. And thinking about it critically helped keep my brain busy while he poked along Huckleberry at a snail's pace. It's good to be honest with myself about what my horses like and are capable of so that I can keep setting them (and me) up for success in our rides. Grif is a fantastic trail horse in all other aspects, and I will 100% continue to enjoy him on trails, but with adjusted expectations around how we travel through technical rocky areas.

The start of Huckleberry

Right about here Griffin just stopped and stood. We hadn't been going fast and he wasn't breathing hard. His poor brain was just having a hard time recognizing that the rocks just. wouldn't. stop. He'd get slower and slower through this section of trail as the rocks wore on.

But at least it wasn't all rocks all the time!

Though they did always pop back up

But then we'd get a lovely little break

Before seeing rocks again

Thank goodness for humus and needles and moss

Because the rockiest bits came after

No one tell Griffin about the Old Dominion 100 trails.

I'm pretty sure the OD100 would put him into a psych ward

Rocky, but straight forward. Unlike parts of the Sods!

I was cheering for Griffin here. The end of the rocks! The top of the mountain! The parking lot was right ahead! Wooo Griffin, you did it!

Fortunately for Grif, all things come to an end and after what probably felt like entirely too long for his poor brain, we reached the end of the trail. He perked up quite a bit as we entered the parking lot. I made note of where my truck and trailer were parked before veering in the opposite direction to head up to the boulder field. 

While I'd initially thought that I may not go to the boulder field to spare an exhausted Griffin from one more footstep, the way he perked up once we were off the rocky trail made me change my mind. Especially considering that the path to the boulder field was predominantly along a road and then up a short grassy trail. I think it was the best move, in hindsight, too because it helped us end our day on a really easygoing note vs. a semi demoralized one after so many rocks. 

All in all, it was a really outstanding way to close out the riding season. I'm proud of Grif and I for getting out there and doing the damn thing. While I hate that Q got injured and I had to sideline her this fall, it was great to put in time and miles with Griffin. He's in fabulous shape and other than technical rocky trails, really loves getting out on these adventures and zooming along. I have a feeling his winter vacation won't be his most favorite thing, but c'est la vie. We will be back on trail soon enough!

Sinks of Gandy

Ridges/knobs without trees in the distance is Blister Swamp, a privately owned tract of land that has a very unique ecosystem. One of only six places in the world with such an ecotype if my memory serves. Grif has stood atop those open ridges! We even chased some cattle there. 

Approaching the boulder field

He stood watching something in the distance for many long minutes while I ate my sandwich. He LOVES having a high area to observe the world from. I hope I always have property with a high point for him to watch the world go by. 

Looking east toward Virginia