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The first jump I take flat gallop, then head straight down a hill for several hundred yards. I just LOVE galloping downhill. Reminds me of chasing cattle as a kid in the Outback. The thought occurs to me, however, that I shouldnt be here. My horse Tower is 24 years old, has been laid up for a year.  I am 64 years old (and Ive had so many crashes I should have been PUT DOWN years ago!! ) , AND we are racing against a team lead by the celebrated Cynthia Shea, who has NEVER lost this race. Her partner is Kathleen Lorden, also a solid rider. Her name appears twice on the winners cup.  Kathleen is on a fine mount, Geronimo, aged 15.  

 More bad reality: I outweigh Cynthia Shea by 60 lbs. Her horse,  Artic  is 12 years younger than my horse, and I am 25 years older than Cynthia! 

  But I am here because I told my good friend, Michael Zacha, hosting this race meet, that I would at least show up. I could always pull Tower, if he didnt feel right! At least, thats what I told myself.

  Behind me, somewhere, is my partner, retired steeplechase jockey Jimmy Duggan. I had planned to ride with Hunt Master Mitch Jacobs. But he pulled out an hour before the race. He was reminded by his very sensible wife Linda that he was still not recovered  from injures endured in a crash months ago.

 I am honored to be on the same team as Jimmy Duggan. He is a legend. You will see him on TVG commentating on steeplechase and timber races.

 At the starting line, Jimmy had asked me:How should we do it ? Whats your strategy, whats your style?

 Style? Im from the bush. I have no style. I point at stuff and go as fast as I can. Speed is my friend.

 We are on the Point To  Point. Fastest time. Two miles, a dozen solid jumps. The first event of  the annual race meet of the West Hills Hunt Club, here at the spectacular Zacha Rosa Ranch, in the Santa Monica Mountains of California.

 It has been said that, if you are lucky, you will own one great horse. Never paid much attention to that. Thought all my horses were great, one way or another.

 But saddling Tower on this  day, I had a feeling something unusual was going to happen. He is 17 hands, a powerful horse, but  when I sat on him, I felt his heart beating like I had never felt it before. He was amped! He took off like he was shot from a cannon.

 Thundering down the hill now, a sharp left. I lose my stirrups. No matter. I level the horse and take two quick jumps with no stirrups, grabbing so much mane I pull out a clump in my hand.

 About now I wish I was a little fitter. I am wearing my sweats because I couldnt fit into my riding pants this morning. Good living and I are thisclose.  But I am comforted by the fact that Jimmy Duggans vest looks a little tight too. Regardless, hes 25 years younger  than  myself!  

 A coop, a log. a tabletop . The jumps pass under me like no obstacles at all. Breathe, I tell myself! My arms feel weak. Or maybe Tower is just pulling so hard. I am barely in control. But he feels great, and I feel exhilarated. I give up the fight and just let him go.

 Jimmy coming up behind me now. He is also flying, and has lost his reins, I see. The thought occurs to me:  a veteran of 2,000 steeplechases shouldnt lose his reins. But then, this is not exactly steeplechase. All the steeplechase courses Ive been on  had no ditches, or jumps over ditches, jumps up hill, jumps down hill. Theyre all flat! I make a mental note on Jimmy Duggan: this Irishman sure can ride!

 After this race I would learn that Jimmy Duggan hadnt taken a jump in 12 years. Hadnt taken a drink in 12 years either. When I invited him at the start of this race to take a  hit off my hunt flask, he declined, explaining:Im allergic to the stuff.

 Allergic? I query.

 Yeah, whenever I drink alcohol, I break out in handcuffs. Hes Irish, I thought. That explains all. Hes drunk his fair share.

Jimmy is riding Mitch Jacobs horse Max, a strong  jumper. I discover theres a lot to shout about, when youre doing Point To Point with a partner.  Im yelling at Duggan because I think hes going too slow, and hes yelling at me for riding like Im out of control. Right, I thought. Maybe I am!  Exhaustion is about all that will control THIS horse!

 More jumps. More down hill, cross a road, another downhill, a yawning ditch, jump off a bank, then a quick right,then a  left, and  more jumps, one of them a 4-ft timber log.  Im leading, and Tower is feeling incredible. It is as if I am floating somewhere over his withers. 

Pull out of another series of jumps, cross a road again, then a last high hill climb. Now, I feel Tower staggering, his legs giving way, stride shortening. Jimmy yells, Move over! Move over! Ill pull him along!

 Duggan passes me, and Tower lifts in his stride, eager not be left behind. Right there, I thought, Duggans experience pays off!

 We cross the finish line and I slide off my mighty horse, and now my legs are so like jelly I can barely stand. Tower nuzzles me and I give him a slap on his neck; a couple of old guys, I thought. We made it.  

 And that night I would learn we had won by nine seconds.

 I left the Awards Banquet early to check on Tower. There he was, laid out, not moving. A horrifying thought:  Oh, no, hes dead! Then I saw his ribs going upand down. He was sleeping so soundly he didnt even lift his head when I stood at his side. Then he opened one eye, for just a beat. Yes, I thought to myself, THIS is the one great horse in MY life.