the long journey home scribd sub chap3_our unconventional training begins

7/31/2019 The LONG JOURNEY HOME Scribd Sub Chap3_Our Unconventional Training Begins

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Chapter 3

Our Unconventional Training Begins.

Two days had passed since Boone and I had come in first at theflag race. It was at the earliest of dawn hours that I had come to theShore Lake track. It sat close to the harbor of Lake Ontario. Thescenery appeared to be most surreal; those waves gently pushing outinto this makeshift sea. One could see the distant boats passing fromeast to west, seemingly to be sitting out on the edge of a very longhorizon. The quarter winds blasted at Boone and I in gusts; flopping my

bush-laden hair from side to side.He didnt show, I whispered to Boone; sitting atop his realm

and looking in every avenue for that old man Whittles.Lets go.We started out of the gate and reached the rim of Lake Ontario

itself. A man was sitting along the beach; dull knife in hand, and astockpile of heavy wood chips to his side.

Ah, Whittles looked at us when we approached him, There youare. I thought you might have forgotten.

How long have you been here? I questioned him.

I came in with the tideAnd what time might that be?When the tide rolled in, he laughed, I dont measure time

anymore than when life begins, and when death takes over.The illusionist, I see, I cracked out a smile.Listen son, he came up to the saddle, peered up to me with

those ghostly eyes, and filled his expression with determination, Ihave lived a long life; longer than yours. I have seen men born, andmen die in taking their last breath There is no illusion in this.

Where do we begin? I asked.

Follow me, he instructed. I instinctively started up towards thetrack. However, Whittles began to move more towards the shorelinesand beachhead.

Where are you going? I yelled back.

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You are confounding when it comes to taking orders, hegrunted, As I said, the white man is disfigured in this regard.

But the track is this way...In time son, he called back, though he remained head-strong in

his pace to the seas, In timeBoone and I moved slowly along the sand lines and shadowedWhittles in his odd moves onto that watery throne. I stopped Booneright at the edge where the waves rolled up to our location. Whittlesturned, fretted for a moment, threw down his shoes which he had beencarting in his hands, and re-tracked himself to where we stood. I sawthe pleasantries in his look begin to overshadow onto Boone; the handswarm and caressing to my horse when he came within hand-shot of us.

There you are Fire Eyes, he smiled broadly, Again, good to seeyou Fire Eyes... Whittles began pulling Boone forward; the waters

clipping the edge of his hooves.What are you doing? I pressed.Horse needs to respect its fear. Caution will teach him strategy.

Fear he has none.No! I brought Boone up on his hind legs; causing Whittles to fall

back, butt-first, into the waters, I wont have it!Does he trust you? Whittle barked at me.Of course, I settled Boone back into his posture and pose.Whittles collected himself back into a stance, forcefully grabbed

onto the bottom of Boones reins, and repeated his tug of us back

toward the seas.Let him react according to his will, he halted my pullback onthe reins, Must know where his limit lies Let instinct be the guide.

Whittles remained with his eyes lock on Boone. That guidetransfixed us all three into a casual sauntering, slowly deeper withinthe waves and cold-harbor waters. My hands tensed with a rigid grip;holding firm, and ready to pull back at the earliest sign of trouble. Still,Boone allowed Whittles to take him further.

Yesss... Whittles smiled, now three-quarters leg deep in water;still Boone permitted the old man to pull him further, as if he werehypnotized to reject what would otherwise have him in a rush toretreat.

The stallion knows. No fear No fear He trusts you wellmaster Landon.

We continued into that bottomless well of vast oceans and lakes.The waters were near to Whittles chest; Boones legs now completely

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submerged. The waves came in with a more tyrant cause; ranging highand foaming to the top surface when the full force came through.

On several waves, Whittles appeared to nearly dive into thewaters and disappear from our view; his hand still strong and firm in

hold of the reins. Those waves kicked high and nearly forced me fromthe saddle; the arch of that wave cutting up into Boones nostrils. Stillwe held our ground, though Boone began to heighten with his anxiety;his eyes glaring now with some relevant fear.

Remain to the saddle! I heard Whittles tightly command me,Do not falter! Fire Eyes will sense your fear!

We cant hold here! I cried out.Yes! He looked at me with a dogged stare, You will hold!I looked out and I could see another wave rising in Whittles rear,

though his look had armor in its stare and he remained transfixed over

me. We shouldnt! I professed.What do you see? His ecliptic stare bore down on me even

harder, Fear? If this is what you see, Fire Eyes will surely see it also!I saw the rise in that wave climbing to what seemed to be on its

own underneath ladder. The curl of those waves; the rumbles to itsseas cast a ghastly sight as it gained force and was ready to move intothe shore lines, directly through us.

I could feel the weight of that heave beneath me stir Boone tobuck his head, brazen his chest, bite hard on the bit, grunt and shrill,

and then make some move to resist on Whittles hold of him.That wave seemed to be the mighty hand of God rolling up into acurl; rushing into our way and we sitting in His palm. Whittles had hisstare firmly grounded in both of us.

No fear! he yelled out, though Boone rose high and the whip ofthis old mans hand pulled Boone firmly back down to the sea ground.

No fear!This wave raged forward, rumbled like a tornado in a terrible,

manic spin and washed through Whittles, then through Boone andmyself. The thrust pushed both of us back from our stance as Boonesback legs buckled from the force of it all, yet he held his position. I, onthe other hand, was washed quickly off of his saddle; tumbling, rolling;water-filled; not knowing where earth and sky had gone to until I foundmyself, face-up, and staring at the brightened, early-morning sun.

Whittles came over to me, dripping wet as I.

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Look master Landon, he pointed out the exact place where thishard wave came through. Boone still stood in those waters now alone,looking back over us, and stomping the waters in a splash.

Now Landon, Fire Eyes has conquered his fear Let him be the

guide to your race He stands and makes a promise to you He willnot let you down, Whittles slapped me on my back, laughed agargantuan laughter.

Ha!! Now you can do nothing but win! What is left of fear? Eh?He is a true stallion; look at him! he bent low to my ear as I rang thewetness from my hair and face.

Make pact with him Let him guide, you will direct...I said nothing, though I came to a stand and leveled about to take

a full three-sixty view in on the beauty of our surroundings, and soreturn back to square up on Boone. He kept his stance firm, gazed

down over me, and took care in noticing every move I made towardhim. I went up to him. He didnt waiver, nor did I, from our stares whenI came and pulled his reins from the water.

Ha! Whittles jumped in glee, Agreed Pact and promisemade; promise to keep

He met us in the water.Now, we go to track.It was a short hundred yards or more to the front gate. I simply

guided Boone forward rather than going by saddle.This Lake Shore track was more of a makeshift brew than

anything else. Paw dirt and sand, with an overlay of deep pine needles,thatch, and a soft wood chips mixture for its surface. It made for aclean racing platform, regardless of heavy rains or hard dry weather. Inthe midst of this oval track was a grassy patch of fescue and clovergrass; a white picket fence encircled the inner and outer rims. Youcould race ten to twelve wide on the straight-a-ways and perhaps nineor more in each of the four corners.

The backdrop was as glorious as I had imagined. One could seethe full snapshot of Lake Ontario drifting out endlessly in the distance;the sea gulls surfacing above and trimming the skylines with theirflapping wings. The perch birds were standing on the tall, woodenposts dispersed out along the weedy grasses which surrounded thetrack itself. It appeared as though they were to be our crowd pleasersfor the day.

Get aboard, Whittles commanded of me.

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I got to the saddle and I could feel the lake trade winds gustingagainst my drying shirt and pants.

Take him in a steady gallop, one round. I want to see hisposture; yours

Whats to riding around one time?Do as I say? He fussed on my objection.I began slow, taking to a feel for the surface as we went, and how

Boone would react to it. His unsure initial footing quickly gave way tohis instinct for challenging the track at every turn and everystraightaway. His pace gained remarkable speed; this surface wasunlike the unpredictable terrain I had always ridden Boone over. Hebecame thunder and lightening all in the same powerful exchange,vaulting forward in a heathen rage and grinding, rapid surge. His legsdrove hard into the soft, padded track unlike anytime I had

remembered.Boone was no longer a sprinter, but a stallion with the greatestgift for speed and power combination anywhere. I could sense his heartroaring out of his chest as if it were a fifth leg he owned; his maneflapping reckless; his ears plugged back to the rear, and we appearedstreamlined into one, gliding force to be reckoned with. I raised myhand in the air and I pumped out a scream as we came to approach onWhittles.

Did you see that? I laughed and hugged on Boone all in thesame motion, Did you see that? He was flying, not racing!

A horse he is, Whittles seemed more stunned by it than I,though he held to his stoic expression and went about to peer deepdown into those coal eyes of Boone.

This horse cant be beat! I swore.On the contrary master Landon, Whittles calmly pronounced,

He will be...Not a chance, I declared, Pull to the front and dont look

back What strategy do you need in that?Plenty, was his one-worded answer, To the quarter mile, no

horse is fast enough to escape the drafting of others. At some pointduring the race, strategy will play a role You will be at the four-pole;that is a good place to start. Six horses wide, you will not have toencounter the exterior rim unless you are lazy on the start.Shadowland will draft on you, even if for the whole race. Hell wait forFire Eyes to weaken, and pull about to take the lead on the longstretch Whittles kept brushing over Boone.

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No way! I fussed.Your enemy is an accomplished foe, Whittles replied, His rider

is an accomplished strategist. Hell let you have the lead, then take thewin at the end.

You are saying we dont have any chance then...I said nothing of the kind, he squinted up at me.How? I questioned, How can we lose?You, he grinned back.Then you ride him! I angrily shot back.Fire Eyes will not ride for me, he said, as he does for youThen I will take my chances alone, I spat.If this is your wish, he remained calm throughout.Off course not, I yelled back, But you say we dont have a

chance How? How can we lose? How can we win?

For one, he replied, Your posture You dont lean into thehorse well enough; your feet stick out like a poker in hot ashes; yourpower guide from left hand to right hand on the reins is too carelessand weak; head bobs like a chicken in heat...

Alright! I turned Boone around in a spin, You proved me out. Ifix my stance, then what else?

What else? he paused and stared me down, To think like yourenemy; to know his move before he makes it. To guard your strategyand make it unpredictable to him; to see the play of horses in front ofyou, beside you, behind you, and know when to make your move;

know your horse. Understand when the moment comes for you tomake a stretch or conserve on the energy, he pulled on my hand togain my full attention now, Son, if it were so simple to take the horseout on the lead and hold him there, a drunken monkey could win eachand every race.

I wont confess to being an expert on this...Good, Whittles began to walk about, Because youre not.No need for the insults please, I whined.He laughed and giggled all in the same voice, Why Landon, I

dont mean offenses by it. Just stating what is apparent. It took meyears to gain the knowledge that I possess. What makes you so keenthat you can master it in one lap around the racetrack? Hmm? Thereare simply wisdoms you can not master without first gaining theexperience to them.

Boone can win...I have no doubt in this.

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He is the fastest horse, I made another apparent statementthat seemed most obvious to the both of us.

True, Whittles was beginning to gather up an assortment ofstakes, with ropes attached around the top half of each, I must admit,

I do marvel at his speedThe best you have ever seen?Son, he cracked a smile while he worked, I have seen the

finest of thoroughbreds; mighty fine ones indeed, in my days. Polished;skilled; can make dirt dung into ready-baked dough. But for Fire Eyes,as undisciplined a horse as he is, he has the most raw, brute talentthat I have come across... Too far gone in age to do more than race inlocal festival races like the Harvester one, Whittles paused, seemed tothink on this, gleam out a bright-beaming smile our way.

But he will do, he paused further to think on it.

But that horse of yours wasnt meant to race in a professionalway; wasnt his destiny.What was it then? I wondered aloud.To make you the man youre becoming, Whittles looked up at

me, Thats where the blood of his destiny liesWhat are you doing? I watched him more intently.Ohh, he grumbled, Im stringing out a gate.All along the track?Oh yes, he returned, Make an alleyway for you to ride

through, he posted several stakes out in a line, six to seven feet out

from the inner railing.That skinny lane? I smarted.You can do it, he assured me.Ill get my foot caught in the rope... I stressed; walking Boone

along the way as Whittles went.Thats the point Landon, he confessed, I want you to condition

yourself to keep those feet toed-in; not flapping like some big-earedelephant; you ever seen an elephant ride fast?

Not on a horse no I laughed along with him.Got to learn to keep that head still, quiet, unmoving; cant see a

target if you head is all jostling about. That Shadowland will be allaround you that entire race You will have to know where he is at allpoints.

I can beat him... I pronounced.

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Good, Whittles stalled, Keep that approach, and you are sureto lose on this Trust me I like confidence, but even a bear doesnthave a chance against a good-firing rifle.

Be aware of your enemy...

Precisely, he looked at me, And Shadowland is a mighty foe.Dont relax until you catch that finish line, you here?What about strategy? I asked.What about it? He asked back.You said you were going to teach me strategy...Well get to that soon enough. Got to get the body functioning

first, then well set in on the mind, he continued to stomp thosestakes firmly out on the track, But, you have friend and foe here, hehammered his hand down on the inner railing, Shortest distance onthe track is to hug the rail, or kiss it as I like to phrase it. You can get

blocked in there though, and if you are not careful, squeezed into aslower pace. Funny thing about slowing your pace down; does funnythings to a horses psyche; can make it terminal.

He paused to show me spacing with his hands.Youll be this far from one another; horses natural instinct is to

pull up or take flight when cramped into small places like that. Hewithdraws, even for a moment, you lose son.

You think Branson will use Shadowland to block me in?Give him the chance, Whittles gruffly said, Hell block and

bump. Put you out of the race before your horse can break a good

sweat on his pace.Whittles moved slowly around the track; driving one post in afteranother, as Boone and I followed shadow behind him; talking,conversing the whole way. I knew Whittle was a brilliantmathematician when it came to the studies of speed, angles,dimensions of a track, surfaces, wind conditions, if it rained or not,sunny or cloudy; and most of all the gut instinct of seeing the eyes ofyour horse, knowing what it details, and sensing the strategy and styleof the horses you are racing against.

The ultimate weapon is knowledge, he sounded off again andagain while we rounded that track. Finally we had made full circle, andI could see the starting point in front of me.

Now, wheres your head? He grunted and sent up to me agrumbling, goofy, round-faced expression.

Sir? I twisted Boone about to get a better look on Whittles.

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Your head boy... he stressed and pulled his head between hishands, with fingers rolled tight as if he had reins in his hands, Dontbob the head like you dont have a neck; keep it steady. Thats whatyour neck is forCome on son!

He came towards me, pushed my legs higher up Boones sides,and flicked his hands over my ankles hard until I moved them moreelevated than before.

What? I fussed, What? What?Act like someone is shooting at you Head lowered; sight your

look just over the mane Always making lefts on the turn, so keepyour corner left eye just over the bridge of the horses nose, he linedup his hands like an arrow just nearing to shoot from a bow, andcutting his expression into a squint.

What about the outside? I questioned.

A horse has got to have good legs to overtake you on the turns.Just want you to concentrate on the inside for now when cutting yourleft turns. On the straightaway you can shift left to right, watch yourbackside. But on these turns, keeping from getting pinned, and dontlet another horse push you out. Hold your ground; keep the line onceyou hit each turn. If they want your space, makeem go outside orhave to wait on the straight-aways.

Whittles shot back to push my knees higher stillYou aint waddling in mud here! Stay light to the horse, and

keep that weight just over his shoulders. There! Good! he began to

guide us around. I lifted my head up to watch on him.Bam!! Im shootn at you!He took out his holstered fingers and acted as if he had bullets in

his thumb.You act like a drunken fool, I whispered, just enough for ole

Whittles to hear out my objections.I maybe be drunk, he gassed, But I aint no fool! Arch that

back low When he rocks back and forth, make sure you keep yourposition right over his spine. You take to a whip son?

I wont use one on Boone, I replied.Might do for conditioning...I said, I wont use one on Boone, I repeated.And why not? Whittles blurted back.Boone will stop for sure if I did, I paused, Hes particular about

those things.Whittles laughed aloud on this.

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Son, he nearly fell out, Never knew a horse that didnt havethe spat of a cat! Let alone a strong-shouldered bull like Fire Eyeshere, he kept retreating backwards as we went.

What about my hands; the reins?

Keep it tight, he returned, Every second on this race, never letloose On the turns, pull tighter with the left hand. But dont let himloose; hell think you wont have command of the race Alwaysimagine a wave right in front of you, at all times.

Whittles had us locked into a slow, meandering pace throughoutone lap around. On occasion I would sneak a quick glance down overmy feet and ankles; making sure I had enough clearance between therope and me.

Theres not much room here... I stated.If you look down once while in gallop, he continued, By the

time you look back up, youll go horse-chest first into a post Next lapwe go faster.Faster? My voice squeaked on the word.No wasted motions, he pointed up at me, Shortest distance,

correct pace and surges; make the effort countYou have this down to a spot, dont you Whittles?We made our way back through the final turn, turtle stride and

all. I saw the long strand of rope and poles in perfect alignment; thewhite railing fence mish-mashed all along the left side. There was apause and Whittles winked up at me.

Now, he shuffled us off, You go alone.What about? I stuttered as I took a back view on him.Ill be watching like a good papa, he waved me on; darting

outside the exterior rope and coming up in a gimp-trot close alongsideof us, but just to our rear, Ahh ha, he yelped like the undrunken foolhe was, Cant fart faster than an old man running! If I had one hoof fora leg and the other leg capitated out, you still couldnt outrace this oldscat!

He was toying with me.Get! Get! I see putty in your horses eyes! Im a goose! Im a

goose! Layn those eggs and still have time to beat out an ole hag outlike you!

I quickened Boones pace to keep up with Whittles and his jests;that cocky and sly expression riled up both Boone and me through thefirst turn.

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Old ham! Old ham! He arrogantly posed while turning behind tocatch our looks, Stinks with grease in the pan!

You want it dont you? I growled.He spit.

Bring it!I locked into Boone like a sleek, armored coat he was wearing;brought my hands and head in position, locked my knees high andalmost atop Boones shoulders; feet hugging his ribs, and he gatheringmore speed when we pulled through to the second straight-away.

Whittles continued with his assorted raves.Trumpet boy without a tune; robbed the cradle and set out in

June; had the fancy to do the prancy, but when it was all said anddone, he couldnt be the man to become!

He shined his face out into a gaping smile and laughter, which

roared out in an echo and made me boil over in a fuse. Even Boonesears propped up into a perking stance; pushing out a defiant grunt as ifhe too felt the abuse. I grizzled out a stare over at Whittles one finaltime. That doting, ego-abusing, assault and scatter-gaze played on usuntil I felt the solid urge to push Boone on.

Boone stalled for a split moment, gathered about his hind legs,shifted and planted, then drove forward within that thin divisionbetween success and total disaster. I took all Whittles had instructedme on; the measure by which was never more evident as we kept ourlines precise, and we pierced between those this small opening with

the accuracy of both our cares.It wasnt long before Boone had mastered this constant gateway;the thunder back in his hooves; his galloping roared the agelessresonate of a lions call. I felt the wind cut through his mane oncemore, splinter it, and crease away to give me good sights to look outon. This rope and series of posts seemed nothing more than a closeblur to me; the inner railing appeared more like a wall that we took tohug on and occasionally skim up against.

We took three laps into the fold; uncompromised and sterling inour approach as we went round, resurfaced to the front, and continuedwith yet another lap. I could see the spotted figure of Whittles standingstill and holding over the rope to see if we made any touches whilegalloping through.

He must have been a very proud papa.Boone shot out from the lane as he rode to the starting rail,

swirled about in a gallant pose, dipped and stomped his hooves in a

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Through my young experiences in life, I have seen less than whatI will see. But to this, when the clock moment stops breathing, I couldfeel the sensation of that wind guiding me, wanting me to go higherstill; to a place where even it could only dream about.

You should ride cavalry son, Whittles took to pat on my leg; thisbringing me back to him.I believe victories can be achieved with more than guns and

violence, I whispered, as I took my stare back over the swimmingwaves of that ocean.

We still have much to do, he shouted out, Much toaccomplish... You have a few weeks Landon Hampshire; only a fewweeks to prepare for the race of your life.

And with this, he drew me back over the track until the dayreached far into the afternoon. Over the coming weeks, Whittles would

bring me to the brink of trials, and to the edge of my own sanity. Hiscommencement to getting Boone and I as close to perfection as wecould was persistent, without waiver, and undaunting through the end.

As each day passed, more and more I could see the steadyvisions he possessed; the experience of a lifetime all rolled up into theteaching he relayed to me.

The race would be ours to capture; no greater influences couldbestow a more assured outcome than what we did for those three lapsaround the track. In the beginning, we would be the ones they ignored;in the end, we would be the ones they envy.

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the long journey home scribd sub chap3_our unconventional training begins

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