We moved to the tiny village of Duvall, Washington to escape the Midwestern heat. As soon as we got settled I had my horse, Sir Fred transported here and began teaching hunt-seat equitation and show jumping to students east of Seattle. He was 33 when he passed away. He had a good life with me and drew his last breath while gazing at Mount Rainier in the distance.
I acquired my thoroughbred mare, Cat Dancing. She's of Bold Ruler lineage and was a handful to ride. Her favorite pastime was to lure me into a false sense of security and then whirl in circles along the path, threatening to launch us off precipices and into the Snoqualmie river.
She was also a farrier's nightmare! In spite of the heroic efforts of a half-dozen stalwart farriers, she refused to cooperate. We had to resort to having the veterinarian tranquilize her lest she injure someone. (Try getting a veterinarian and a farrier to arrive at the same time - it isn't easy or cheap.) I began investigating alternatives to metal shoes with very little success. I resigned myself to having a barefoot pasture horse.
I increased my herd to two with the addition of Banjo Malone, my thoroughbred gelding. He and I learned natural horsemanship together. He had his own hoof troubles so I felt it was best for him to go barefoot as well. I discovered the damage that metal shoes had done to his white line. As I became more educated about hoof anatomy I realized that Cat's heels had become contracted. I redoubled my efforts to design and build a better system.
(The scrap Neoprene and boot sole days) I experimented with sewing hiking boot soles onto bell boots. This proved to be disappointing. The stitching was the weak link and it quickly failed. I also developed the forearms of a stevedore from cutting the sole material with a pair of tin shears.
(The shoe patch phase) I thought that I could use a commercial glue used to patch running shoes as a sole. This was promising but the material was quite soft and would wear out very quickly. It the fumes were extremely potent and I had to wear a respirator to keep my wits about me. I made the soles in a mold and sewed them to the bell boots.
(The death of the wetsuit) My husband had put on a few pounds since buying his first diving suit. He retired it to the closet after a group of cruel children at the beach taunted him with shouts of "Free Willy!" While rearranging the closet, I noticed that it had knee pads of made from a very rugged Neoprene and a Velcro closure. The light bulb over my head began to glow and I made my first Kevlar sole pad with a Neoprene pastern sleeve. It worked, although getting the shoe patching goo to stick to the Neoprene was a problem. I sadly bid farewell to Banjo who passed away.
(Eureka! The Web to the Rescue) I've never been fond of my husband's computers. eBay and Google changed that. I was able to track down the two key elements I needed for success: A supplier of specialty Neoprene and a manufacturer of the two-part polymer rubber compound. Our first attempts were pretty rough. The rubber has a working life of about 20 minutes and learning the "sweet spot" took much trial and error. The rubber seeps into the Velcro loop surface resulting in an extremely strong bond.
Our vendor was able to work a deal with an off-shore supplier of the lined Neoprene we use today. The early prototypes were so successful that they drew the attention of other riders who wanted some. Word-of-mouth brought more requests and before I knew it, I was a cottage industry.
I increased my herd to two again with the addition of Mel, my thoroughbred gelding. His sweet disposition made riding him a pleasure. Unfortunately, he'd foundered before I got him and his feet were always tender. I made Horse-Mocs for Mel and they've helped his recovery very much. Not only did they help him heal, they allowed him to exercise.
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