Tevis 1962, or Legend's Death Wish

Joanne was supposed to ride Legend on the Western States Trail Ride in 1961, but that plan unravelled when Legend popped a curb. Joanne went up to Tahoe City anyway to crew for our neighbor, Doris Levingston, and ended up making the ride anyway on a borrowed white mule named Chongo. By the time she finished the ride she was so beat and battered that she vowed never to return to Auburn again or even fly over it.

But within twenty-four hours of coming home to El Monte in southern California she had not only changed her mind about returning to Auburn, but decided that we were all going to move there, the kids, the horses, I, “Uncle Tom Cobley and all”.

The plan had several components; selling our home, buying one with a place for horses, resigning our jobs, getting new jobs. And, of course, we wanted it all done today. Yesterday would have been better.

In the meantime another friend, Jean Leininger, had decided that she wanted to make the ride and Legend was elected to be her travel companion.

Legend stayed and trained with Jean and her mother, who lived on a bluff overlooking Arroyo Burro Beach near Santa Barbara, a wonderful place to live but not much for conditioning endurance horses. To cut some slack here, nobody really know much about conditioning horses for an extreme endurance ride. It was such a new event back then, nobody knew much about anything.

Wendell Robie's technique for training horses was interesting. He had some vertical real estate on the south bank of the American River across from Auburn upon which he ran a small herd of iron Arab horses. He put our feed but mostly they were on their own. When he wanted to ride, he'd catch a horse, any horse, saddle up and ride off. They were slightly better than wild. If you could catch and saddle one, you could ride him. I think more than one of his Tevis horses was the unlucky guy who was caught and saddled the day before the ride, the day the horses were vetted.

That was in the Dark Ages, the middle-fifties to middle-sixties. The event was so new that one year Sports Illustrated sent out a reporter on at least two occasions that I can think of, and (don't hold my feet to the fire on this) I think NASA sent out some people to look at these extremely well conditioned athletes (the horses, not the riders).

Within a month of the ride we had purchased a place and installed our horses before we even had any buildings on the property. Jean came up and made a few training rides in the area. On one memorable occasion she and I were heading up the Old Stage Coach Road off Robie Point outside of Auburn. It's a steepish trail coming up from the American River into town. This was the last part of the Western States Trail. We made that ride as often as we could because the horses are very tired after they have moved out for 80 miles or so and it gives them heart to recognize when they are near the end of the trail. On this one occasion we came to spot where (horrors) water trickled across the road. Legend, as might be expected, did something stupid.

She forgot entirely about her broken tail. She forgot entirely that she was supposed to do what the rider told her to. She absolutely refused to cross the water. She reared, she spun, she snorted, and in the process fell off the trail. This was a grievous miscalculation on her part since a very steep slope led several hundred feet to the river below. Jean crawled out of the saddle and over Legend's neck and head, leaving the mare with her front hooves gripping the trail, her rear hooves digging into the slope and an “Oh Shit” look on her face.

I was so angry with Legend I would cheerfully have shoved her in the river, but Jean was made of more compassionate stuff. She grabbed the reins and pulled on them, giving Legend enough guidance to where she could scramble back on the trail. After that, we remounted our horses and Jean and Legend crossed the trickle of water uneventfully to finish the ride.

The 1962 ride was uneventful, as far as Jean and Legend were concerned. Legend had no trouble passing the vet check, they came in towards the last at each check point, but in good shape, and finished the ride in over 22 hours. As for Legend I would like to say that that she never did another stupid thing.

I would like to say that, but it would be a lie.

The Popped Curb

It was May in 1961. Legend and I had just returned from our week's ride from Barstow to Las Vegas. Unfortunately, she had been kicked by someone on the ride on the left hind leg below the hock and above the ankle joint. It didn't seem to bother her any.

I returned her to Joanne to resume conditioning for the Western States Trail Ride. One of the first things Joanne did was to ride from our house down the San Gabriel River to the ocean near Long Beach. The ride was at least 30 miles and the river bed by this time was nothing more than a concrete ditch. You could have rolled a bowling ball from our house to the beach.

Next on the training agenda was a ride into the San Gabriel Mountains. Joanne and our neighbor, Doris Levingston, trailered the horses to the Arroyo Seco Stables in South Pasadena and headed up the trail towards the mountains.

A little south of the Rose Bowl, Legend suddenly went from go-go to no-go. Joanne dismounted and discovered that Legend couldn't put her left hind foot on the ground. A huge lump, hot to the touch, had suddenly appeared between the hock and the ankle areas. She had become an instant three-legged horse. Joanne managed to walk Legend to the Rose Bowl while Doris drove the trailer up there. From there everyone came home.

A vet later explained to Joanne what had happened. There are twin parallel tendons running down the hind leg and they move against each other, or at least in opposing directions, when the horse walks. Apparently Legend had been kicked there and the resultant swelling of either the tendons or the muscle tissue surrounding them caused the tendons to rub against each other. This friction resulted in Legend's disability. And believe me, she was disabled.

Not much to do about it. Rest. Massage some lotion onto the area to increase the circulation. We did that twice a day. It got so Legend would see us coming with the lotion and she would just stand there and wait.

It didn't take too long before she was ready to take easy rides, but the time for training was over. So Joanne left for Tahoe City to accompany our neighbor Doris to help her on the ride and to see what went on there. She intended to complete the ride the next year.

Legend and I were left to guard the chickens and she didn't make the ride until the following year, 1962.

Copyright Ken Harris 2009