A LIFELONG LOVE OF HORSES—THE BIOGRAPHY OF GARY AND DORIS HUBBELLSo where do we start here? How do you describe a feeling that you have inside about horses and translate that into your “qualifications” as a horseman, horsewoman, trainer, or broker? After graduating from the University of Colorado in 1985, I figured I had done what everybody expected of me, and now it was time to do what I wanted to do. I called my dad and asked him to get me a job with an outfitter, guiding elk hunting. I spent 40 straight days in the saddle on a little Arab gelding named Sterling, bringing hunters into and out of the mountains surrounding Marble, Colorado. That was the introduction to horsemanship that I craved. SLICK AND THE SWISS CHICKIn 1991, I was blessed with the opportunity to get my first good horse, a bay Arabian gelding named First Tense. The moment I saw him, I was stunned. I fell head over heels in love. He was such a gorgeous animal that I nick-named him “Slick”. Slick was only two years old when I got him, and he was ready to break. He had had a lot of handling, and was very gentle. Slick was a very kind teacher. He tolerated my mistakes, never bucked, and by the fall, I had put 30 rides on him—very gentle, short rides, because he was so young. The next summer Slick was instrumental in another facet of my life. I was traveling in northeast Arizona on the Navajo reservation, when I walked out of the Hubbell Trading Post in Ganado. There was an RV parked in front of the trading post, and a blonde girl was stretching. “It looks like you’ve been in the car for a long time,” I said. “Ja,” she answered, with a strong Germanic accent. “Bist du Deutsche?” I answered, asking if she was German. “Nein!” she said emphatically. “Ich bin Schweizerin!” (“No! I’m Swiss!”) One thing led to another, and I ended up sharing a campsite at Canyon de Chelly with a long-legged Swiss girl and her girlfriend—and I fell in love for the second time in two years (remember Slick?) We went our separate ways the next day, but I invited them to come see me in Colorado, and meet my horse, which really intrigued her. Three weeks later, sure enough, she came to see me, and I think that maybe she wanted to see my horse more than she wanted to see me. I took her out to the horse pasture and whistled for Slick, who cantered across the meadow, whinnying. I could see the joy on her face. Doris had grown up in Ebikon, Switzerland, right next to Lucerne. There was a riding stable a quarter mile away, and as a young girl, she and her friends used to spend all day at the stables, mucking out stalls for free, hoping for a half-hour riding lesson in return. Unfortunately, the lessons came very infrequently as the free labor was exploited (and who knows, maybe the gang of girls was a pain in the neck for the owner). Lessons were done in a small arena with a strict instructor barking orders on how to sit the saddle. Horses were confined to box stalls, and strict instructions were given about each horse—“Watch out for that one! He kicks! Don’t get in the stall with that one! He bites!” Regardless, she still loved horses, and the freedom of riding in the Colorado wilderness appealed to her very much. We rode into our wedding on Slick and Primo, my mother’s bay Arabian gelding, and the crowd responded with glee. That fall, I took Slick elk hunting. I spotted a nice bull and slid out of the saddle, pulling my rifle out of the scabbard. I knew that I had only seconds to shoot, so I dropped the reins and dropped to one knee. I didn’t even look back. I focused on the bull, put the crosshairs on his chest, and fired. I knew there would be time to chase my horse after the elk was down. The bull dropped, and I looked back, expecting to see a cloud of dust. Slick was standing there with an inquisitive look on his face, as if to say, “Did you get him?” I led my horse up to the kill, gutted the animal, and loaded two quarters on him. 45 HORSES AND 1,200 RIDERS A SUMMERIn 1999, we got the opportunity to take over the outfitting permits in Marble, Colorado. That’s when our real education began. We started with three horses and two saddles, no pickup, and no horse trailer. How in the heck were we supposed to take 20 hunters into the mountains for week-long elk hunts? We bought eight horses from the previous outfitter and borrowed a trailer and truck. Pretty soon we were in business. Doris had her hands completely full with two little boys, but she always spent as much time at the stables as she could. Over the next eight years, our herd grew from 3 horses to 45 head. We employed a staff of 4-5 wranglers during the summer, and up to 10 people during the hunting season. On our week-long elk hunts, all our gear was packed into the mountains on horseback. We did a lot of summer day rides, ranging from one hour to all day, and a bunch of overnight pack trips as well. During a typical summer, we put about 1,200 people on horseback. Most of them were beginning riders. It was obvious early on that we needed gentle, dependable horses; however, both of us were insistent that we were not going to assemble a herd of “plugs”—worn-out, dull horses with no spark in their eyes and no life in their gaits. Somehow we managed to keep one of the best horse herds in the state. Often people would drive by our stables and spin a U-turn, explaining “We don’t usually ride at dude stables, but your horses look so great, we thought we’d give it a try.” We were constantly improving our herd, like an NFL owner trying to put together the best team to win a championship. Both Doris and I figured the best way to do this was with young horses. It’s expensive to raise colts, and we didn’t see the sense in starting a brood-mare program. Lots of people raise babies because they like it, and when it comes time to train the horse, they don’t know what to do. We were able to buy really nice, registered, good-looking animals for not much money, simply because we were willing to start them—and start them we did. In the spring of the year, I’d go to a horse sale and buy seven or eight colts. We’d take them back to Marble and put them in the field, rounding them up with all the tough experienced mountain horses every morning. We’d leave them in the corral all day, and at the end of the day, both Doris and I would spend two or three hours breaking colts. A usual training schedule would be to spend one to three sessions in the round pen teaching a horse to move and accept cues, then to join up to the trainer; saddling and more round pen work; and then riding. Sometimes we’d ride the colt the first session. Other times it would take three or four sessions. After the first couple of decent rides, we’d start trotting and cantering the horse. In as few as six or seven rides, we’d take the horse out into the meadow, crossing the river, through the sagebrush, into the aspen grove, across the side of the mountain, down across the meadow again, and back across the river. I once did this loop on ride #7 on a nice two-year-old paint colt, leading a group of four tourists on a one-hour ride. When you do the same ride over and over again, it can get boring. Doris and I used the experience to train colts. Though it’s the same loop up and down the mountain, it’s always interesting on a young horse that hasn’t been there before. Consequently, we used the bookings to guide trail rides as a way to train young horses, and they got lots of miles on them quickly. Instead of putting 30 minutes on a colt in a sand arena, we’d put an hour on them in the mountains. Once Doris and I got 20-30 days on a colt, we’d turn him over to our guides and wranglers to lead rides, graduating to two-hour rides and then to half-day rides, and eventually to week-long pack trips and elk hunts. It’s amazing how much progress you can make with a young horse when you put five 9-hour days in a row on him. That’s a month and a half in most trainers’ systems. Once a horse was really tried and true and experienced in our system, we liked to reward the horse for his good service while he was still young and usable. Horses tend to decline in value after about age 11 or 12, so we liked to sell our good horses for top dollar when they were somewhere between eight and ten years old. Horse buyers were happy to get these veterans of the mountains, who were very solid, experienced, dependable horses, but still good-looking and flashy. What kinds of horses did we have? All kinds. We really like Arabians, and we had several of them. We had great experiences with foxtrotters, who can be terrific mountain horses. We also had quite a few draft crosses for their sturdy builds and sweet temperaments, and of course we had lots of dependable quarter horses and paints. By the way, a note here about Arabians. Yes, we’ve heard it all—“flighty, nervous, spooky, unpredictable”. Uh huh. Wrong. Our two best dude horses were our two Arabians, Slick and Stoney. Together they carried more little old ladies and excited six-year-olds than the rest of the herd put together. They went through the wars, and by God, you can give me an Arabian to ride anytime. It wasn’t just Slick and Stoney, either. We had several great Arabians and half-Arabians, and truly, we never washed out an Arabian horse. They all found a job in our system. THE NEXT PHASE—OUR EVOLVING HORSEMANSHIP
|
||
While I’ve concentrated on my ranch real estate career, Doris has become our head horse trainer, and she is very active and involved with the training and preparation of our horses. She has also become very knowledgeable about natural hoof care, and has taken all our horses off a shoeing program and has learned to trim all our horses’ feet so we can ride “barefoot”. As I write this, she’s at another Clinton Anderson clinic, bringing our friends Lee and Liz into the Clinton Anderson fold. Myself, I’m relegated to the status of “designated rider”. When we have a horse that needs some miles, she tells me to get on and ride. We have a neighbor with hundreds of acres of pristine rangeland, with nice little trails up into a band of rocky cliffs, and boy, is it a great place to train horses.