Hard Riding

In comparison to all the problems I have on the ground, the riding is going brilliantly.

I always give Gally a nice warm up, where I keep the rein as loose as possible, and I do walk, trot and canter. A loop of the arena or two, on each rein. During this warm up I just focus on getting the horse going forwards.

Afterwards we get down to business. I shorten my reins, and drive him into the bit. I ask for lightness, and flexion. Once I am happy with the walk, or I feel the horse is getting bored, then I progress into trot. In trot I introduce 20m circles, and once again drive, drive, drive. Finally I will do some cantering, going large in the arena.

Throughout the entire process the main focus is drive forwards, then straightness, then lightness. This has me working very hard with the legs, heels and spurs. It also keeps my hands pretty busy, as opposed to jerky. The hands are busy correcting the horse. If the horse is travelling well, the hands stay still.

After each of these sessions the horse is sweaty, and I am hot (and sometimes sweaty). When I dismount the horse stands still, and almost follows me out of choice to the hitching rail. At the hitching rail the horse stands still, and allows me to take the bridle off without any nodding or rubbing on the rail.

Riding Time

For the past three days we have been busy with Christmas festivities. For three days I wasn't even really aware whether my horses still exist. But today I go out into the amphetheatre paddock and call out "Come on up!". The horses, eventually, trot into the red rum paddock and I go in to catch Gally.

Uh uh. Nope. He trots off. I do the Monty Roberts thing, and soon enough he stops and lets me approach. I can pat him, but the minute I try to touch his neck, he tries to bite, and trots off. Eventually I do catch him, but I realise that I have a serious problem. My horse is not happy about something.

He doesn't seem happy during brushing. He doesn't seem happy during saddling. He seems unhappy when having the girth done up. He does walk forward when I try to mount, but the riding goes well. And after the riding he is as happy as larry. He follows me around, he is relaxed. He still puts his ears back when I undo the girth, but everything else is good.

I leave the headstall on him, and put him out in the paddock.

Riding partnership

Today I take Gally out to the state forest for a ride. He is now getting much better at going forwards, and I decide to try a track that last time caused us a lot of grief.

He hesitates at the top of the track, but then ambles down it. Half way along, the track becomes quite steep, and Gally is visibly concerned about it. I let the reins out and just hold them at the buckle. His head goes right down to the ground, as he sniffs the path. Then, slowly, he walks down the hill. Every now and then he stops again to sniff the path, then he continues on.

Throughout the entire descent I just sit there, in amazement, holding the reins at the buckle and not doing much else. I have a feeling of partnership. I have asked to go down this hill, and the horse listens. I entrust the horse with my safety, and he takes care of me.

This is what horse riding is all about to me. It is this sort of feeling that attracted me to horse riding in the first place. And to eventing. It is this type of feeling that I used to get as a keen teenager, when riding horses during school holiday camps. I used to go over 1m cross country jumps, and I used to feel totally safe. I used to go over 2'6" showjumps, bareback, not holding the reins, and feel totally safe.

Yet, somewhere along the way, I lost this feeling. And I have been searching for it ever since. And at times horse riding felt like just another job. Or worse, like a battle. At odd occasions the feeling would return. But it was only a fleeting moment. Not long enough to understand what I was missing, or why.

And finally, here it is. That feeling of partnership. After banging my head against the wall for years, not only do I hold this feeling in the palm of my hand, but I totally understand what makes it happen. The next challenge is to reproduce it with every horse I ride. The other challenge is to take it with me into the dressage arena, the cross country course, and the showjumping ring.

In the meantime, Gally and I arrive at a shallow ditch filled with water. I cannot resist the temptation to practice the "water jump", and this is perfect. The ditch is a mere 10cm deep, about half a meter wide, and about 5 meters long. Gally requires heaps of encouragement to step across the little moat. He doesn't even need to get his hooves wet! But it's still a very scary leap for him. We get across, then we come back. Then across again. After about 5 tries he steps across it calmly and without hesitation. Enough.

We head home.

Practice on Tornado

Now that Sabina has had a proper lesson, we need to practice her skills on Tornado.

I help her brush and saddle up. Then she just puts her foot in the stirrup and gets on. I put the reins in her hands, and expect that we will now do a similar set of exercises on the lounge as in the lesson. But no. Sabina has other ideas.

She gives Tornado a kick, then pulls him up to a stop. Then another kick, a few strides, then stop. She turns his head and rides him towards me.

"Now mama", she says, "to the state forest."

I clip a lead rope on, and off we go, to the state forest. But this time around, I am almost dispensable. Every time Tornado stops to take a look, Sabina kicks and kicks until he gets going again. The rein work is somewhat rough, but effective.

We have a great time chatting.

Sabina's lesson

Today I take Sabina to the local horse riding school for a lesson. I have decided that she doesn't listen when I try to teach her, and that if we're to enjoy our combined dream of riding in the state forest together, then she's got some learning to do.

Sabina gets a nice chestnut pony called Taffy, and the lesson includes grooming, handling and saddling instruction. Michelle the instructor is absolutely fantastic. She takes the learning right down to child level, but she doesn't skip one single thing.

For starters, Sabina is quite excited, and is bouncing up and down. Michelle gently takes her hand, and in a whisper, as though they were sharing a secret, says "Sabina, can you be as quite as a mouse?" In a split second the child is transformed, and listens intently from this point on.

Once Sabina is on the horse, Michelle gets her to do some balance exercises at the walk, such as raising her arm out, and up and touching her toes. (I'd forgotten about these!) Then Sabina practices some trot on the lounge, and finally Michelle shows her how to hold the reins and how to stop the horse. Sabina takes the learning in her stride, and you can see her little legs flapping to make the pony go forwards, and then her whole body leans back as she pulls on the reins to stop.

The session is a resounding success.

The Puddle

I ride out on Gally into the state forest. We have the usual stops, but we spend much less time arguing about whether we will go forward or not. In a few traditional stop spots he actually goes forward really well.

I feel quite confident. So confident in fact that when we come to a puddle, about 5m by 5m, I decide that we're going through it. Gally of course eyes it off with suspicion, and does not understand why we need to go through it, when he's found a perfectly good way around it.

We circle it a fair few times before he gets the tips of his hooves wet. Oooh, it's cold and wet and it may swallow him whole. He jumps to the side. We dip the hooves in a few more times before he concedes, and races through it. Yay! I leave it at that.

The rest of the ride is uneventful, but, oh so enjoyable.

Neerim Show

My job entails getting everything ready. Sabina just has to get up, get dressed, and eat her breakfast. Husband has to provide support. We depart 5 minutes ahead of time.

We arrive at Neerim showgrounds and the place is buzzing. Somehow we manage to get ready for our first class, and arrive in the ring cool, calm and collected. I can't say the same for one of the other children, who is on a much nicer pony, in much more fancy gear, but bursts out crying, and is reclaimed by the parent.

The competition is fierce to say the least. All the other ponies look fabulous, are the right weight, have shining coats and plaited manes and tails. The children are attired to perfection with fawn jodhpurs, navy jackets, and matching felt hats. The parents complete the picture with neat suits and matching hats. And then there is Sabina, in her pink jumper, pink and brown striped leggins, with her white helmet, on a very fat pinto pony, albeit clean, with mane bouncing freely.

In adition, it's obvious these kids can ride. They are holding the reins.

The judge asks us to line up, then each pony has to do a little work out one at a time. Just walk and trot. I gulp. We haven't done too much trotting. I smile at Sabina, point to the first pony as he trots and tell her "that's what we'll have to do. A trot. Do you think you can do that?". She looks seriously, then nods her head. I smile back. "Good stuff. Just hold onto your strap here, and lean back. You'll be fine." Miraculously, she is fine. Phew.

Of course we're outclassed here. There are four horses in the ring. Ribbons to third place. We walk away empty handed. Sabina's chin shakes. I give her a hug and tell her not to worry. We will just have to have another go. "We're bound to get a ribbon soon", I encourage.

In the next event, there are only two entries. We get second place. The red ribbon is tied around Tornado's neck and Sabina cannot believe her luck. As far as Sabina is concerned, she has just won the world championships. Her smile spreads from ear to ear.



We have a bit of time till the next event, but Sabina is keen to wander mounted between the rings.

"Mama, go faster", she asks.
"You mean trot?"
"Yeees!"

We trot up between the rings, then back to walk. The little girl is smiling. Another trot, and another, and another. Back and forth along the cricket pitch. We're having a ball. This is almost better than getting ribbons. Then a lady approaches us. Uh oh, I hope we're not braking some rule.

"Excuse me", she says politely.
"Hi!"
"We would like to give the little girl this", she holds up a bag with a colouring book, pencils and stickers. "It's from the organising committee." She smiles. "For sportsmanship, and just having fun."

Sabina eyes off the book with glee, but stays mounted and we do some more trotting. We do two more classes, where out of two competitors we come second. Sabina is delighted with the ribbons, but somewhat disappointed that they are all red. She was hoping to come home with a range of colours.

Never mind. She jumps in the car and pulls out her new colouring book, leaving me to pack up all the gear, and put Tornado on the float.

"Mama. Ribbons are for horses, and colouring books are for people, right?", she comments as we leave the showgrounds. I don't hear another word till we get home.

'Twas the day before the show ...

Our local horse show is on tomorrow, and we're going.

No, not Gally and I. Sabina and Tornado. Yes, off to the show to have a go at competing and seeing what it's all about.

So we bring Tornado in, and out comes the hose. Sabina does a great job in getting the pony wet. We only suffer a passing shower.

Then it's onto shampoo and sponge as she takles the body, while I scrub the mane and tail.

She leaves the hosing off to me. Then we squeegee him, dry off with towel, and wrap him in rugs.

When to quit stimulating

Last week, when I was having trouble on the cross country course at Wandin, after I was already eliminated, Jen (Gally's previous owner and rider) came up next to me and gave me some coaching. She said this. "When he has stopped and doesn't want to go forward, kick him. And as long as he is standing still, or going backwards, keep kicking him. But the minute he takes a step forwards, stop kicking him, and make sure you don't jab him in the mouth."

This is in line with Pat Parelli - when the horse has done the desired action, quit stimulating him.

So today I ride Gally into the state forest, determined to practice Jen's words to death. I don't have to wait long to get my first chance. Just a mere 300m out the last gate, Gally stops. I sit back and start kicking. He stands still, he goes left, he goes back. It feels like I am going to be kicking like that foreever. Eventually he takes a step forward. I quit kicking immediately. He takes another two or three steps forward, then stops again. I allow him a second or two to think about it, then commence kicking again. When he takes a step forward, I stop kicking. This process goes on for quite a while, maybe 5 minutes, but eventually we calmly walk past the stump and shrub that were worrying him. This is great! My first real victory. I feel terrific.

I get many more chances to practice the technique, and we get past many points that have worried Gally in the past. And each time, the process gets easier and easier. We are almost at the end of a track, and ready to head home, when I hear a noise. Motorbikes. We can't actually see them. They will pass below us, then head up to the top, and then pass behind us. But Gally doesn't know that. He just hears the noise, like a hundred growling tigers galloping somewhere beneath us. He turns and tries to head back. I hold him on the spot and eventually he calms down. But he is very suspicious of heading down that track. He gets over that too.

As we head home, we pass a puddle. It's tiny, my foot could barely fit in it, but Gally makes sure to keep a safe distance from it regardless. I laugh. We will find a bigger puddle one day, and get over this problem too. We have time.

We head back up the hill, and there in the pine plantation, in the knee high grass are four run away sheep. Gally spots the movement, and gulps. To him, they are four wolves in sheep's clothing. Of course. After a mere moment of hesitation he continues up the hill, acutely aware of the four sheep, but relaxed otherwise.

A ride that good I haven't had for a long time.

Boredom

Enthusiastically I take Gally into the arena. He goes well in the warm up, but then seems to totally lose attention in the later work. He is bored. Couple of 20m circles followed by a round or two large, followed by some more 20m circles just doesn't cut it for him. It's boring, and so he switches off.

I change my work to include serpentines, simple serpentines, and various changes of direction. Constantly changing where we go, but focusing on one aspect of riding, such as tempo, rythm, or roundness. All good.

At the end I take him for a canter up the middle ridge. He tenses slightly as the birds take off, then trots easily to the gate.