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.