"You can't ride here, we're under quarantine."

This morning I got an SMS from Mell saying, "I won't come to your place for 8 weeks." I actually cried. First no arena, now no trainers, because of the quarantine?

I asked my husband to call my vet and get to the bottom of it. The vet agreed that we should avoid other stables and other horses, and not let anyone visit, either. And that the Herpes (Rhino) vaccine isn't really much help against EHM.

I called Mell and sniffled a little as I spoke to her. "Look, everyone is cancelling on you, but I'm not. Please don't tell me 8 weeks - I am committed to selling this horse if she's not better this year, and I need your help!" She said she'd keep in touch with the vet offices to track the illness and she'll let me know. See, I really believe in the power of bleach.

Again out of my defiance about being told what I can and cannot do, I saddled Mara. This time with supplies for a long ride, and a Garmin.

Yesterday was Rosenmontag (Mardigras) and all the crazies in costumes were out before and after the parades (glad I didn't go, with all the Charlie Hebdo themes and proven threats from terrorists that cancelled some parades). Even our village has its own parade, and I couldn't get to the grocery store because the street was closed for it.

Anyway, everyone not at the drunken parades was out in the woods as my husband and I did a very long Geocaching loop. I've never been accosted by so many loose dogs in my life.  What is this, an offleash dog park? (They don't exist in Germany.)

The thing is, I always hate to cache where I could ride, because I think "Why am I not riding, or at least leading my horse on this trail that is reachable from our house?" There were more hoofprints than people prints, I was moping along. Then we found some really nice, steep single track and I thought, "This is it, I'm bringing Mara here tomorrow and putting her to this hill!"

It's pea soup out today. Fog so thick you feel it like droplets on your face. I thought Mara would like it, but I was mistaken. She didn't like the way things would suddenly appear out of the fog. Probably didn't help that the crows were eating the world's largest dead jackrabbit on the side of the road - oh my, the German rabbits are massive.

It's 45 minutes on the street to get to the trailhead by the Icelandic farm. That's me walking as fast as I can. Mara was jumpy and her heart was beating out of her chest at times. I was starting to lose my nerve.

The Icelandics looked at us curiously, and Mara was actually afraid of them at first, they're so hairy.





I asked him if he'd put his hoof into an electrical socket, because all his hair was going all directions. I loved the snip on his nose!




You can tell by her expression she's not happy here.

Finally I got brave and got on my horse to ride down to the water. This is my first time riding down that steep hill, and she was wary the entire way, but complied.
At the bottom we walked into the stream and a sweat-covered Icelandic horse crossed toward us. We politely gave room. Disease!

Then I did some deep breathing as I rode her along a very popular trail along the stream that has a cliff going up on our right, straight up into heaven and Mara kept peering up there, worried. The trail takes a lot of turns with the stream and every blind corner is stressful for her. But then, as if sent to save us, there was a couple of hikers ahead of us, and I said, "Let's play my stalking game, let's stalk them!" but then Mara snorted out her nose and they looked back at us. "You ruined it, horse."

But the fact that there were those people on that scary, new to Mara trail really helped. I pretended they were "with us" and asked her to walk very slowly so we wouldn't pass them. She was game, and we followed them a great ways. A couple of stumps scared Mara and she did her best to convince me, "I cannot, this is too horrible, let us run home!" and I bent her and tapped with my heels and was actually able to convince her to pass without too much time wasted. Much better.

Then the hikers asked me for directions, I couldn't help them but they soon found a trail map and then I heard rapid tolting from behind us and I did an emergency dismount. I didn't know how Mara would react to someone tolting up her butt. I wonder why people don't clip their Icelandic horses - they're shaggy as dogs, and working hard out there, soaking wet. Perhaps it's sacrilege?

Finally we were at that straight-up single track with all the stones jutting out of the ground. I knew it would get Mara's attention. She huffed her way up. I was so pleased. She never once gimped on those jagged rocks - although she preferred to find soft places to walk when she could.


Later on a road, I took a photo and video of her covering some less jagged rocks as if she were alking on concrete. I was able to capture it on video how she moved over the flat rocks, although, admittedly, the smaller, loose jagged rock was more difficult and she had to slow down.

At the top I asked her to keep going up another road and I just hoped I could remember our path from the day before. I let her jog up some very long hills (well, long for here, not long for home) and she was panting and ..oh  my, damp on her neck!





She was quite stressed as we made our way down again into a creekbed with cliffs going straight up on both sides of us. Really an uncomfortable place for a horse, but lovely. The sound of the creek seemed to soothe her finally, and we reached our destination, a little hut in the woods. That's it, Mara, let's go home.



"Don't you see the danger, fool human?"




"The danger is all around us!"

I turned her around and in her brain backtracking meant we were going the wrong way. She hesitated and tried to convince me it's all wrong, wrong, wrong. I talked to her and sang Johnny Cash.

She spooked, she looked, she never could relax, she was trying to save both our lives apparently, from whatever she imagined was out there.



This was her expression most of the day. DANGER!



Look, sweat on my horse!

It wasn't fun, like it rarely is, but I could feel that we were making progress.

I was thrilled when I finally recognized where we were and it looked so different from Summer last time we were there. Mara didn't recognize it either, until we came to a stream crossing and she strode right in like a veteran trail horse. I may have smiled.

She saw the way home and I said, "See, that next turn is our last one, and then we're on our way up again." Just as we made that turn, a lady on an Icelandic stopped us. She said we are not allowed to ride up that trail, because it's closed. I said, "I need to get home, and this is the way I came!" She said, "You cannot ride past our farm, it's under quarantine. You must go another way." She described the other way to me and I knew it from Geocaching - it's a paved road. SIGH.

I turned Mara away and thought to myself, is it true, is it possible that this stable can close a public, marked horse trail, simply because it passes by their farm!?!?? I was grumbling and then I realized Mara was too, she said, "But you promised!" and started looking behind us, trying to turn around, and trying everything she could to tell me, "This is not the way home!"

I had to urge her on almost continually, and then I realized what a good training experience it was. Mara was about to be shown, again, that I was right, and her arguing about where we were was useless.

When we got to the steep, paved road going up to the Icelandic farm, I asked her to jog. It's so steep she was panting but her hooves were ringing loudly through the deep woods on both sides.

At the top I jumped off, loosened her saddle, took out her bit, and touched her chest which was slightly wet. Proud of my horse who breaks a sweat! That never happens.

Then we passed by the Icelandic farm and I realized how ridiculous it was for us to be forced to detour - what is the difference between passing their horses in the fields on a road, vs. a trail? *sigh*

Nearly home, we could barely make out Herr S's horses in their Winter paddock through the thick fog, but an Ermine popped its head out of the grass. I got a little video. I love this little guy, even though they brutally kill rabbits and cats. I think you can see why the first time I saw one, I thought it was a bird.


Ermine in fog.


Time elapsed: 3 hours. Kilometers covered: 13. Top speed 10.3kph (6mph), average speed 4.4 kph. Goodness that's slow! I thought I walked faster than that! Perhaps the hills confused the Garmin? I hope so.

Mara's beat, my legs are too (I did some downhill running just to insult my sore shins from the last time I ran with my horse).

I can't say I enjoyed the ride, because it was a constant task to re-direct her, but I am totally surprised that it went so well. Riding so far from home in a new area, I am very pleased.

Mara's temperature after the ride: 38.1. I'll keep taking it every day because the vet said that is an early symptom. (Normal is 37.5)

***

At the end of that paved road detour we were forced to take, is a funny little weather station. It always makes me smile. If you can see in the photo, it's a rock hanging from a chain, with weather interpretations:
Rock moving: Storm
Rock still: No wind
Rock wet: Rain
Rock dry: No rain
Rock invisible: Fog (Hey! I saw it today and there was a lotta fog!)
Rock casts a shadow: Sunshine
Rock white: Snow
Rock fallen to earth: Earthquake
Rock missing: Theft

I think you'd laugh too. Is this just a German thing? I've only seen this in Germany and am curious if anyone has seen such a thing elsewhere.