Family Ride

The sun is shining, the grass is green, and we're off on our first ever all family horse ride. Pete is on Bess (thanks Lisa, again), Sabina on Tornado, and I am riding Gally. And, by sheer coincidence we are all wearing red coloured jodhpurs!

Pete hasn't ridden for over a year, and while he doesn't lack confidence, he is a touch rusty. Nevertheless, I give him the task of being the fearless leader. And he does well. I ride second, and Sabina weaves in and out as she pleases.

Sabina's weaving is great training for Gally, who seems to have a real issue with being passed by Tornado. The ears go back, and he swings his backside. Well tries to. I straight away correct him (meaning he gets a solid jab with the spur in the ribs), until I see the ears go forward again. Then I relax - the reward.

Towards the end of the ride Sabina gets a bit tired. Not that we've gone far. But she insists that I ride with her side by side. Never mind that Pete is allowed to ride about 50m in front of us. This is another fantastic exercise for Gally, who ends up almost prancing on the spot at one time.

I can't wait to do it all again soon.

Pony Club Trail Ride

We wake up refreshed. Sabina gets dressed, finds Chelsea, and off they go, hand in hand.

My morning is busy with packing up tent, and checking that I have brought all the right gear for the horses. Yes, horses. We're off on a trail ride today. Sabina will be riding Tornado, and I have brought a horse for myself too.

When Sabina hears that Chelsea may not be riding, she almost forgoes the whole activity. Luckily, Chelsea is keen to come along, even if it means riding double on the pony with her older sister.

There is a fair bit of assembling and standing around. Sabina is somewhat impatient. Then when we finally get going, even Tornado is keen to strike up a trot. Sabina is annoyed at her pony, and it takes a fair bit of explaining from me, before she starts being tougher and enjoying herself. But it's great to give her the experience of riding in such a big herd.

After the trail ride, and lunch, Sabina and Chelsea play "house" in the back of the float. One is sweeping, while the other is wiping off the dust. They are welcome in my float any time!

Finally, Santa arrives in a little jog cart. All the children get presents. Sabina ends up with this huge present, the smile on her face even bigger. She rips off the wrapping paper to discover a rock guitar. The smile disappears off her face in a jiffy. "Mama, I didn't want a guitar! I don't even like guitars", she moans. I could do some moaning of my own.

When we get home, Sabina unpacks the guitar, while I unpack the car. (I could really do some moaningnow.) All of a sudden, the unwanted toy comes alive, and becomes the best thing since daily bread. Especially, when Papa gives us his best rock guitarist demo, still in his farm clothing. It has us in stitches.

Pony Club Camp Out

Pony club has organised a camp out. So we arrive at the pony club grounds in the late afternoon. Evidently too late to get a yard. Tears follow. All afternoon, I have been asking Sabina to hurry up with the packing and not get distracted, or we will be late. Which part did she not understand?

Anyhow, we come to a sharing arrangement with one lady, which means we get to put Tornado in the yard for now. Enough to stop the tears, and we will deal with the rest later.

Then we start putting up the tent. Here, Sabina is all help and focus. Once the tent is up, she is busy moving our mats and sleeping bags inside the tent. Then she disappears into the tent herself, and plays "set-up house".

Eventually, she reappears and strikes up a friendship with Chelsea. Well, from now on I get an onslaught of questions - "Mum, can we do this?", "Mum, can we use that?" - but I no longer have to worry about entertaining my little girl, and "trying" to make pony club fun.

After dinner, we have presentations. All sorts of trophies are handed out, and then all the kids get a sash and a medal - with their name engraved on it! Pretty special.

We're in bed by 10pm and settle for a very comfortable sleep. One of the horses, yarded nearby, takes it upon himself to give us weather updates throughout the night. "Neigh, rain is coming!". Sure enough, we hear the rain pitter patter on the tent. "Snort, rain is gone." Thanks mate!

Neerim Show

The Neerim Agricultural Show is our closest show, so off we go to give Sabina some showing experience. I have just had chemo a week ago, and the effects are at it's peak - I have got such aches and pains that most of the time I can barely move. My husband has been suffering from a stomach bug, so he is feeling worse for wear.

We try to make the experience "fun" rather than "serious". This has Sabina riding around with a huge smile on her face, although some of the time she doesn't get it all right, she cuts corners, and kind of just lets her pony take her where he will. Tornado is so reliable, that he doesn't take her anywhere much, other than cutting off the said corners.

In the end we end up with about 4 third places, and one second. Sabina gazes at the white ribbons, and bemuses that she really would have liked a range of colours. Initially we try to explain why she came third, but we soon realise that the message is just not getting through, yet. *sigh*

In fact, the highlight of the show seems to be meeting some friends from pony club, and talking about the next pony club rally.  Oh, and the bling browband Tornado is wearing.

What's in it for me?

When you work with your horse, what's in it for them?

While you think about that, let me tell you this story. Seemingly not horse related, yet very insightful.

Last night my husband came home grumpy. He came inside, saw me at my computer, in the middle of the dinner table, trying to sell items on eBay. Dinner was nowhere in sight. Peace, quiet and tranquility were missing. His grumpiness got worse. Fair enough.

I got dinner on the table, and we got chatting. "There's all this outstanding paperwork to do, and you're selling items on eBay?", came his gripe. Yeah, ok. Fair enough. He had a point.

Immediately after dinner, I retreived the said outstanding paperwork, and started processing it. Husband gave me a nod of acknowledgement, and sat down opposite, doing his bit of the outstanding paperwork.

He was no longer "grumpy", but he wasn't relaxed either. It's like he was stressed. Here I was, doing exactly what he had asked me to do, and he was stressing. Biting his finger nails and all. I loved doing the work he asked for, but I couldn't stand his attitude. It drove me nuts. Why couldn't he relax? Why couldn't he look up every now and then and say a nice word or two?

The harder I seemed to work, the more he seemed to stress. It was getting rediculous! Where is my reward? All I want him to do is to relax! I am doing exactly what he asked, he should be happy. Well, if he isn't going to be happy and relaxed then I will just dig my heels in and stop. What's the point? There is grumpiness if you don't do anything, and stress if you do.

That's exactly how a horse feels. Exactly. I am certain of it. The horse wants to do something for you, and when they do it, they need you to relax, as acknowledgement. You relaxing, is the horse's reward.

Worming

Recently, or maybe not so recently, I wormed the horses. They all were good to work with except for one. Mo. He threw his head up in the air so high and so fast that I was left speechless. There is no way in the world I can fight with that.

Since Mo is kept in a communal paddock he must be wormed on the same day that the other horses are wormed. So I had to sit there and think a bit.

When my husband built the hitching rail, he built it pretty solid. Big, thick, strong logs.

So I got my super strong (cost me a fortune) head stall and lead rope, put that on Mo, and wrapped the lead rope around the hitching rail twice. I held the left over end, and took a step towards Mo, worming paste visibly in my hand.

The head went up, I let the rope slip over the hitching rail a bit, but not too much. Once the horse came down, I tightened it again. Then Mo realised the fight was on. Well, we got mini rears, little rears, a big rear or two. The struggle lasted for about 10 minutes, then Mo arched his neck and licked his lips.

I cocked a leg and waited. After all, he was a good boy for just not pulling back. Then I approached him, and just slid the worming paste in the side of his mouth, squeezed the siringe, and we were done. No more fuss.

I stood back looking at the horse and gave myself a little pat on the back.

Enter the float

When Gally first arrived on our property he didn't have much trouble getting on the float. He was used to an agle float, so getting off used to be a bit confusing for him. Over time, he became resistive to getting on the float though. What happened?

I thought that maybe I had been driving too fast, so I slowed down. The problem of loading Gally was getting worse. I thought that maybe the old float was too rickety, and he would like the new float better. Not so. Us girls, we're sometimes very good at making silly excuses like that. "Oh it's my driving.  Oh it's the float".

Now my husband and I, can generally get a horse on the float. We've got our methods, which are gentle and sensible enough. But I want a horse that will get on and off the float when I ask him to. I want to be able to get the job done by myself. And since the horse used to get on the float without fuss, I had to admit to myself that I had done the damage there, although I was totally unaware of what, perhaps, I could have done wrong.

Now, I must admit, that the only time I loaded Gally on a float was when I needed to go somewhere. You know. Have a lesson booked early in the morning, should have gotten up at 6, but got up at 6:30. Then had trouble catching the horse, by the time we're near the float I'm exasperated, running late, and my pre-made coffee is getting cold in the car. And then I try to load the horse.

So, I have decided it's time to develop a routine, and practice it when we're not actually going anywhere. My routine goes something like this: attach the float to the car, roll it out and open it up; get the horse and brush him (friendly game) and put boots on him.

Then the training starts with leading him near the float, and standing on the ramp. Cock a leg and relax. Here I look for the horse to put his head down and start sniffing the float. When enough sniffing is done, I try to get both front hooves on the ramp (not the float, just the ramp), pat, relax and back up. When he can do this well, I try and get all four hooves on the ramp, pat, relax and back up. Then it's front hooves in the float, and finally all hooves in the float. If the horse pulls back, he goes straight back on, to his previous position. The only time he is allowed to back up, is when I have asked him to. If the horse refuses to go forwards onto the ramp then I use my carrot stick on his hind quarters - the second he takes a step forward, I stop using the carrot stick and relax.

My first attempt to get Gally on the float takes me about an hour, and leaves me in a lather. But I get him on. Pete is there to witness it. Next time it takes 10 minutes. And by the third time it takes 5 minutes. Then we start to focus on Gally being on the float for increasingly longer amounts of time.
 
After each float loading session I ride Gally, as though it's all just part of our routine.  Albeit a sweaty one at times.

Been riding

I haven't been writing much, but I have been riding. And now I sort of don't know where to start - so much has happened. My horse has once again taught me so many lessons, that I am barely keeping up with him

Today is meant to be a hot day, but I am very lucky to wake up at 6. I sneak out of the house and grab my horse.

My routine has changed somewhat. I brush my horse, then put boots on. Then some days I practice loading him onto the float. Not today. More about that later. Other days, I take him around and play with him. Make him jump the ditch, make him walk over the gravel mound, make him walk between barrels. Whatever tickles my fancy, as long as it's fun.

Then I return to the hitching rail and saddle up and venture into the arena.

In the arena I do a warm up. Yes. I actually do a warm up. Not a vague few circles that are meant to be a warm up, but are really just vague riding, wondering what in the world a warm up is supposed to be. But a real "listening to the horse" kind of warm up.

Is the horse listening to my leg? Does he go forward? Can he do a circle? Can he flex? Is he ready to accept the bit? Does he stop? Is he ready to go forward more? Is he still looking around at the sights and sounds?

What I have found is that Gally is now ready to really stretch out in the walk. He can lower his neck and relax. He can stride out. I no longer need to push him every second stride, but I can just sit there and enjoy the ride.

But, walk him across the diagonal and the game changes. At this point I need to explain that I ride in a grass arena, that has been mowed recently. So clumps of mowed grass are lying everywhere. Not on the track, not on the 20m circle - just everywhere else. And ... guess what ... Gally is worried about this grass. I mean today we saw a lizard in that grass, yesterday there was a mouse.

I see this as a great training opportunity. I walk him over it, and drive, drive, drive. I do it untill I feel him stride out again. The second he strides out, I sit very still. That's his reward. One day that grass will become a bale of hay, and we will be jumping over it. And by then he will know that he just needs to go forward, over the obstacle.

Round the block

There is a small loop that one can ride in the state forest. Normally, it takes me about 1 hour. Dead Cow marks about one third of the way around. (Or, two thirds, depending on your direction).

Sabina and I have been working up to riding the loop. We would ride towards Dead Cow, a little bit further each time. One day we got to Dead Cow, and Sabina was really excited to find old bones strewn all over the place. Finally, we attempted the loop.

We rode to Dead Cow, tied up the horses and had a snack and a drink. The bones were as exciting as ever.

Then we rode down into the valley. Sabina was still enthusiastic, although being in new territory, she didn't like it when I got too far ahead. Tornado kind of lost the flair for riding out, and was convinced we should turn back and ride home. So I was kind of stuck between "Mama, wait for me!!!" and "Mama, keep going!!!".

Eventually, we got into the valley and turned for home. Tornado got a fresh spring in his stride, and my brave little rider girl had to deal with a pony that was too keen. "Mama, he trotted when I didn't ask him to!" All of a sudden I had visions of Tornado galloping off, Sabina wildly holding onto his mane and screaming for him to stop.

I needn't have worried. Half way up Invert track, everyone was out of puff. Time for another break. Except that this time there was no convenient tree to tie the horses to, and I had to stand holding both of them, while brewing up plans for Pete and his chainsaw.

When we mounted up again, Sabina was visibly over it. Luckily, we could see the tree at the top of the track.

"See that tree?", I asked.

The little girl gazed at me vaguely.

"Well, once you get to that tree, you'll be able to see our farm house", I continued.

"Really?", the vagueness vanished, spirits returned and we joyously ventured home.

Gallop

The other day I went riding in the state forest with a friend. She was riding Bess, while I was on Gally. Unbeknown to my friend, the ride was supposed to test Gally. I haven't cantered Gally much, and I have never galloped him. Normally when I ride out, he still looks around too much at everything, to get him into a gallop. The only time he gallops is in the paddock, and then he throws in a couple of pigroots. So my question was - when he is with another horse, and galloping, will he pigroot?

A well trained horse should know the difference between playing in the paddock and being ridden, and they shouldn't pigroot with a rider. But with a green horse ... sometimes they forget.

Luck added another test for me - motorbikes. Not one group, but two! One from the front, one from behind. This had Gally rocking on the spot, but I was able to control him, which boosted my confidence a lot.

On the way home, my friend was in front, and I suggested that we go for a canter/gallop up the hill. She didn't need convincing, and kicked Bess into gear. I clamped my legs on tight, and waited for the pigroot. It never came. Instead, the thoroughbred woke up in Gally, and he galloped. And he raced. And he had to be first. And when he was first, he suddenly started getting all looky again and slowed down to a canter. But then he heard Bess breathing down his neck, and he got going again.

This time I kept the legs on and we cantered all the way to the top of the hill. Even when Bess had long ran out of steam and slowed down to a trot.

The listening horse

I hate it when horses do stuff because it's just routine. I want my horse to notice me, and listen to me. Listen to what I am asking it to do. A horse that listens to me, will also (hopefully) talk to me. Not in words, but in his own little horse language - raising of the head, attention of the ears.

Gally has now learnt to move his hind quarters away from me (and not kick out) when I gently push with my fingers. (Yay!) He has learnt to stand still (and not kick out) when I brush his hind quarters. (Yay!) But he is not great when it comes to picking up his back legs.

Just the other day though, I saw him thinking. I asked him to pick up a hind leg, and he initially stood still. I kept asking. So he moved away. I kept asking. So he lifted up his leg ... and kicked out.

Ok, so we're not quite there yet. Training in progress. But he was thinking. He went through all the motions that he knows I approve of, trying to find something that would satisfy my prodding.

(Please don't hold it against the horse for kicking out. Firstly, his kicking out is not very dangerous - I've seen much worse. Secondly, it is his natural reaction to being prodded by something. All I have to do, is replace the reaction with the response I would like.)

The Carrot Stick

I've bought myself an official Pat Parelli Carrot Stick. (Yes, it is orange.)

I'm not a big fan of buying specifically endorsed training aids because, usually, they are over-advertised, and over-priced.

However, I have been watching Wrangler Jayne's videos (which are fantastic, thank you Jayne), and I now understand how to use the carrot stick to train the horse, and that an ordinary dressage or lounging whip just doesn't cut the mustard.

Riding Intuitively

I used to get my horse saddled, walk into the arena, glance at my watch, and then ride for an hour. I had some vague concept of a warm up, and what I wanted to work on, and then a cool down. But it had to be an hour. Sometimes, it was more. But I used my watch to tell me whether we were finished.

These days I ride a lot more intuitively. That is, I consult my intuition. Regarding everything.

I get my horse saddled and walk into the arena. Then I stop and listen to what my intuition tells me to do. Sometimes, I will walk my horse in hand a bit before getting on. I get on and again listen to my intuition. It might tell me to walk two 20m circles. But those two circles have to be perfect. Then I might change direction, and do three 20m circles. Then we might do some circles in trot. or go large, or do some turns on the forehand. And finally, my intuition will tell me that we are finished.

The beauty of riding like this is that you become a lot more in tune with your horse. Your riding is much calmer. You become a lot more focussed on the task at hand - which, oddly enough, is exactly what your horse is focussed on. And you search for perfection in your current task, because you don't know if that's the last task for the day or not.

When I ride Gally in this manner, he responds like a pro. He is keen to cooperate with me, and try and do what I am asking. In fact, his willingness to move away from my leg has astounded me. (Remember, this is a horse that was labelled "bomb proof" by my coach, and "a bit lazy" by my trainer.) Since I have started riding Gally in this manner, his progress has just astounded me.

(Usually these work outs last somewhere between 20 and 40 minutes. But it's all very high quality work.)

More about being friendly

So, how do you make friends with a horse? And what is the friendly game?

Well, you make friends with a horse by playing the friendly game. The friendly game is basically a session of stroking, rubbing and scratching in different places, in such a way that the horse finds it enjoyable, and friendly.

For most horses that are well broken in, a normal brushing session is sufficient, in principle. And, this is what I have managed to get away with so far. However, during my standard brushing sessions, I have never observed the horses reactions. Or rather, I have never taken any action based on the horse's reactions.

Princess was notorious for having days when she would pace left and right along the hitching rail. I just used to work around this, sometimes saying nasty things under my breath. Now, notice that Gally and Princess had this special connection - like attracts like. It's just that with Princess you could get away with working around the problem. With Gally, not so. He doesn't pace along the hitching rail. He stands very still, but he turns and bites you as fast as lightening. This made me so uncomfortable, that I had to find a solution.

The difference between ordinary brushing, and playing the friendly game, is that you observe how the horse reacts, and adjust your touching accordingly. If the horse puts his ears back you might change your stroking into scratching, or if the horse has stood very still while you stroke a sensitive area, then you might stop.

The friendly game makes a world of difference with Gally. He basically stops biting and kicking. He also becomes more willing to work for you under saddle - this is where the friendly game has exceeded my expectations.

Personally, I find the friendly game much more interesting and satisfying than brushing. I have always brushed my horses thoroughly - much to the amusement of some. But I did find it boring. Which probably created my "just get on and ride" attitude. The friendly game is a way of interacting with your horse, that is (in some ways) just as much fun as riding. So all of a sudden, I am in no hurry to get on any more, because I am having fun on the ground! How cool is that?!

Friendly Game

Gally standing quietly and happily at the hitching rail, after enjoying lots of friendly game.  Note Tornado in the background as buddy.

Friends

I have been observing Gally when I try to catch him, when I work with him, and when I let him go back out to the paddock with his friends.

When I put him out, I try to trick him. I will put him out via a gate, where he cannot see the other horses. Or, I will put him in a paddock by himself. His instant reaction, is to search for his paddock mates, and to round them up.

From this, I have come to the conclusion, that "friendship" and "security" are really important to Gally. Which means that, when I work with him, I must ensure that we are "friends", and that he feels secure.

It's elementary really. We're all like that. I work much better for a boss who comes across as my "friend", and makes me feel secure in my role. But I must admit, that I have never really paid that much attention to these. It's mainly been about "get on and ride" for me. Rather than, "hi, I am your friend, lets make sure you feel secure, and now that you're happy, I might hop on and have a ride".

Forward III

Still struggling with "forward"? You're not alone. Here is why.

Logical thinking is a "left brain" activity. "Forward" is a "right brain" activity. If you do some research about left brain versus right brain you will realise that us humans are rewarded for using the left brain. We are rewarded for using logical thinking. We are rewarded for taking a slow and steady approach in life. We are rewarded for "building things", step by step. We are rewarded for being rational and analytical. The more we have evolved, the more we are rewarded for being "left brained".

Before children start school, they don't have that much of a preference for the left brain. But the majority of what they are taught at school, rewards left brain activity.

A lot of various arguments could stem from here, so back to the point. "Forward" is a "right brain" activity. "Forward" also seems to be very important to being a good horse rider. So if you're going to progress in your riding, you need to learn to use your "right brain" more. It's just like writing with your non-writing hand - you can do it, and it will take practice to get it smooth.

Forward II

Trying to explain the concept of "forward" is quite a challenge. Recently, a friend of mine competed in horse trials, and I thought that her summary of the ride over the cross country course gave a pretty good "feel" of what "forward" is all about.

Here is her write-up of her own ride:

'In showjumping I realised I wasn’t going forward enough and that in grade 4 you can get away with it because the jumps are quite small but in grade 3 you can’t do that. You have to ride forward or it will all go wrong. So I made sure I rode forward on the cross country!!

The second jump was HUGE so I just rode at it and it was fine. Then jump number 5 was interesting - an apex next to a tree and getting to it was tricky!! The line was terrible and the ground was boggy. So took a very very long way to get there then lost my stirrup so circled to get it back and then flew over it!!

Jump number 6 was a drop, one stride to back up the other side and then one stride to a log. I rode it terribly and way too slow and we fell through it but got there.

After that I had a good chat to myself and the next jump was quite big but I had jumped it before so I just rode at it and it was awesome and I decided I just had to let her go and trust her to jump them.

So I did jump 1-8 in 4 mins and 8-15 in 2.5 mins!!!!!! It was the most amazing feeling going at the jumps with that much speed and then flying over them!!'

The interesting thing to note here is the amount of detail she provides about the first few jumps. That's logical planning. Then, all she says about the last few jumps is that she trusted the horse and flew over them. That ... is "forward". Get it?

Forward I

When it comes to horse riding, I seem to have a problem with "forward". That is, I am not "forward" enough. Coaches see it when my horse does a little pigroot. "You need more forward!", they scream at me. Great! Fantastic advice. Except that it usually ends there.

But what, exactly, is forward? How do I achieve forward? I mean, after all, I am a forward thinking kind of person. "Let's do this jump, then let's do the next jump". That's forward, isn't it? "Let's do this competition, then one in two weeks, then one in two weeks after that". That's forward, right?

Hmm ...

Let me backtrack a bit. Most coaches actually scream "your horse is not forward enough". Well that's plain old up the wrong alley. A horse's job is to "survive"; that means eat, seek shelter, run away from predators if required, and breed. All the horses I have ever met have plenty of "forward" when it comes to their survival.

When it comes to being ridden, the forwardness of a horse is simply a product of their rider. So it is actually me that's not "forward" enough. The problem with us humans, is that we've become too logical. And we think that logical planning is equivalent to "forward".

I seem to think that "let's do this jump, then let's do the next jump" is "forward". Well it's not. Logical planning it may be, but it's not "forward".

Sabina's lament

"Mama, let's go riding". Sabina on Tornado, me on Crownie, riding around the obstacle course in the arena. You get the picture.

Eventually, Sabina has had enough riding, but I still want to fit in a couple of canters. Sabina happily hops off. Then she takes the bridle off her pony. Tornado is delighted, and sinks his teeth into the knee deep grass. Yummm!

I keep cantering around, totally aware of what is about to happen. When I finish up, Sabina opens the gate, and encourages Tornado to follow her. The little pony runs out with joy, followed by a very upset Sabina.

Eventually we catch Tornado and bring him back to the hitching rail, but Sabina is unconsolable. "Mama, I hate Tornado, I want you to sell him. I want a new pony. You must buy me a new pony." And on it goes.

I sit with her, laughing inside, agonising on the surface. I love the fact that she can be so open and expressive about how she feels. And that she has a good listening ear to throw it all at.

Eventually she calms down, and we can actually work through the situation. The analogy of green grass to Tornado is the same as chocolate cake to a tired Sabina appears to really hit the spot. Sabina opens her eyes wide with disbelief - you mean you actually need a headstall to lead Tornado back to the hitching rail?

Tornado's lament

I go out first thing in the morning to do some farming stuff. As I am approaching the house, Sabina pops her little head out the door. "Mama, let's go horse riding!", she commands. My dream has come true.

We grab Crownie and Tornado. I setup a little obstacle course. And off we go. Doing laps around the arena. Each of us doing sort of our own thing. But we keep talking and giggling as well, and it's a lot of fun.

After lunch and a rest, "Mama, let's go horse riding!" Sheesh. This time Sabina grabs Tornado, and I grab Gally. I don't quite trust Gally to ride him with Sabina, but I figure that a bit of playing around, and standing at the hitching rail will do him a world of good.

Now, recently, I purchased some DVD's from Wrangler Jayne. I've watched the first DVD and today I apply the learnings from this DVD to Gally. The transformation is amazing. Gally stops trying to rip the shirt off my back, and starts to gently ask if I can possibly keep rubbing his forehead.

Later when Sabina is riding, I bring Gally into the arena. Not riding, just leading. This is a bit risky, because if Gally takes off (and remember we are in a 7 acre paddock - the "arena" is simply the mowed part of the paddock), then Tornado may take off after him.

But taking off is not on Gally's agenda. He is quite happily focused on following me around the obstacle course. Every now and then he still throws in a little challenge, like a little mouthing with his lips on my jacket. I reprimand these, praise, then move on.

Sabina, of course, is also doing loops of the course, enjoying a trot and canter in between obstacles. Tornado is probably the least happy, but he puts up with it all.

At the very end of the session, Sabina insists that we wash Tornado. The hose and bucket come out, and Gally sighs a huge sigh of relief when he realises that only Tornado is being bathed.

First canter

The cousins have left, and the place feels so empty it's eerie. "Do you want to ride your pony?" I suggest to Sabina. She nods.

We get the pony and Crownie as well. For brushing pleasure. Then Sabina suggests I saddle up. Ah, what the heck.

"Mama, let's go in the state forest", suggests Sabina. "But you don't lead me." Oh no no no. I don't think we're up to that yet. So I propose we practice in the paddock first.

Crownie is a long striding horse, and the pony is tiny, so it looks a bit like this. I am up ahead walking, and Sabina keeps falling behind. Then I stop, allow her to catch up, and then we move on again. I encourage Sabina to have a bit of a trot to catch up.

So there I am, in front. I've just come to a stop, and take a look behind me. Oh! My! Goodness! There is my little girl cantering on the pony down the long side of the arena, with the biggest smile across her face that you have ever seen.

She pulls up to a screeching stop, all excited. I praise her immensely.

Letting go

Sabina and I arrive at Pony Club. We saddle up Tornado. "Mama, can I get on?", asks Sabina. She's keen. "No! We need to get gear checked first." This is the problem with parents buying kids ponies (rather than kids learning at a riding school first) - the "rules" get overlooked.

Finally, she's allowed to hop on. We go into the beginners class. All the other kids are on ponies on a lead. "Mama, let go", come the instructions. "Really? Are you sure?", I ask. "Yes mama!". I unclip the lead rope. "Now you let me know if you need me", I smile.

Sabina steers her pony around the arena with such a serious face that the instructor keeps asking if she is ok. But she does an amazingly good job, negotiating around the other ponies, and stopping behind them when required.

As time progresses, Sabina starts smiling and even laughing. She does endless loops of the arena, and not once does she say that "it's boring". In the final lesson, Sabina is actually trotting unassisted, laughing all the way. At the very end, I am allowed to clip the lead back on so that she can trot over the trot poles. I think we even manage to sneak in a stride or two of canter.

Of course, throughout the entire exercise I am doing loops of the arena too. Mostly at walk, but also at trot. Umm, I mean running. Given my post operative state, it's a reasonable effort. I am very glad when the whole thing is over and we finally head home.

Back in the saddle

Yesterday was exactly four weeks since my operation. I bring Bess and Tornado in, under the watchful eye of my mother. Sabina runs circles around us.

I figure that if I can brush and saddle up a horse, then I can get on. In the meantime Sabina's enthusiasm to go riding does not diminsh. What a pity.

In the end, both Bess and Tornado are saddled and ready to go. Sabina is on, and mum holds the lead rope. Then she gazes at me, and the 16hh horse. And she wonders.

I gaze at the wither and wonder too. But, enough of that, just get on. And I do. Child's play.

Once in the saddle, I feel a million dollars. After all, my legs weren't operated on, and I sit solid as a rock.

We ride out the front gate. 50 metres down the road mum gives me the look - she's had enough. I sigh. Okay, okay, I convince Sabina to turn back. We've been on horseback a mere 10 minutes, and we're back at the hitching rail.

I gaze at the ground. Hmmm ... long way down. What will the jolt of dismounting do to me? I'm not really ready for any jolts. I haven't even tried a slow jog yet. I didn't think this bit through very well, did I?

I grab hold of the pomel and use my arms to lower myself slowly. Easy done! Success. Yay!

Catching Gally

So here we are at the end of winter, and the winter rugs need to be taken off. As I am out of action, I beg and plead with my husband to take the rugs off. He managed to do two last weekend, and he is attempting to do the remaining two right now.

Gally comes up to him and seems friendly enough, until that is, the headstall appears in his hand. Then Gally is off. So Pete proceeds to take Crownie's rug off first - too easy. Then back to Gally. The little bay horse refuses to be caught, and trots circles around Pete.

We manage to coax Gally into a separate paddock. At least here Pete only has to negotiate the knee high weeds, and not other horses. But Gally seems more intent on showing off extended trots and collected canters than being caught. Finally we bite the bullet and move all the other horses out of sight. Pete goes into the paddock with an outstretched hand holding the head stall. Gally races up to him and sticks his head into the headstall.

My lament

I've had my cancer removing surgery and am now successfully and quickly recovering. But the rule is that I can't ride a horse for four weeks - that means I have another week left before I can ride a horse again.

I'm itching to get back on. That's an understatement. I keep having these thoughts of taking Sabina for a ride on Tornado. Or secretly catching Crownie and just giving her a brush.

I can just see myself next Saturday - I'll get up early and go for a three hour ride. Even if it is just mainly walking. Cannot wait!

Lizard's Lament

When you're training for competitions, it's hard to find the time for a really long relaxing ride. So today, I take Crownie out to do one of my absolute favourite's - Lizard's Lament.

Firstly you head out along the road. It's nice and peaceful. There is an option to head along the ridge track, via the quarry. It's been raining. It's slippery. So I skip that option, and continue along the road. Finally, you hit the bottom of the valley, where the road forks. I take the left fork, and within a few strides I am at the bottom of Lizard's Lament.

Crownie pricks her ears, ready to gallop up the steep hill. The motorbikes have left a few deep grooves in the track, and I hold Crownie at the walk, until we are on smoother ground. Still steep and slippery though. Then I let her take off. We gallop along wildly, enjoying the freedom, wind rushing through Crownie's mane, and whistling through my helmet, trees rushing by on either side.

At the top of the rise we slow to the trot. Lizard's Lament leads us on. It twists and turns gently. We trot, we canter, we gallop. Crownie clears the puddle in her stride. We canter. We canter right to the top of the hill, to the end of the track, into the sunlight.

The sun blinds us, as we dash out of the forest and into the second plantation. Acres of pine trees stand below us, like an army of faithful soldiers. We snort and head home.

Training with rewards

I come up to Mark's to have a lesson on Gally. Mark puts me on a 20m circle. 10 circles in walk. 10 circles in trot. 10 circles in canter. Change rein. Repeat the exercise. Then, halt, and park in the middle.

"Has your horse walked, trotted and cantered well?", Mark asks.

"Yes".

"So now you halt. This is his reward."

Then Mark goes on to have a laugh about something or other. As usual with Mark's lessons, there is something much greater going on, than he lets on. I don't know, maybe he does't even realise it. The halt is not just a reward for the horse. It's a reward for the rider too. It's time to relax, to reflect and to hang out with your horse.

In a minute or two the lesson resumes. We do turns on the forehand. Heaps of them. One step at a time first. Then 180 degrees at a time. In between each turn we halt. We relax. This is the reward for the horse. This is the reward for the rider.

The next stage of the lesson covers turns on the hindquarters. And again we halt in between each turn. The reward.

Finally, we put the turn on the forehand together with the turn on the hindquarters, and get a side pass to the left, and side pass to the right. Then, halt. Relax. Reward.

The News

I'm not going to beat around the bush. The long and short of it is, the news is bad. I've got cancer. Breast cancer. The diagnosis was confirmed yesterday. But to be honest, I already knew during the mammogram last Thursday, when they were taking photo after photo after photo, and wanted second and third opinions during the ultrasound. Then the doctor rang me on Friday afternoon - could I come in for an appointment immediately. Doctors don't ring you like that to tell you good news. So I went off to the TTT Horse Trials on the weekend feeling very flat. But I went! And I had a ball!

If you want to see how I am progressing with the breast cancer, then read my other blog (http://www.prideranch.blogspot.com/). In the meantime, the horse riding and horse training goes on. Sure, there might be breaks, but I'll be back in the saddle as soon as I can physically lift the saddle onto my horse. And I might even have the opportunity to do the most riding I have ever done!

The "Let Go" philosophy

When Mark told me about his "tug, tug and let go" concept, I tried it out as soon as I possibly could on Crownie.

Wow. It was like riding a totally different horse. I thought I had "let go" after reading the "on the bit" chapter. Of course I had let go then. But, now I had let go even more. And my horse started gliding along, and seemed keen to come up to the bit.

Every time I would go "tug, tug and let go" I would not just let go with the bit, but also let go of the tension in my shoulders. It felt really really nice. And horse training became this really pleasant relaxing activity, that horse riding should be.

The other thing I discovered, is how hard it is to actually let go after just two tugs. Yes. After just two tugs, the horse doesn't necessarily come onto the bit. And the mind is screaming, and the shoulders tensing, that you should keep tugging until the horse comes onto the aids. But surprisingly enough, if you can just convince yourself to let go, the horse is much more likely to come onto the bit, than if you sit there tugging in frustration. Funny that.

This might all sound counter intuitive. So think of it from this perspective. The only reason you tug is because the horse is not travelling on the aids. So you tug to say "this will profit you not". After a couple of tugs any horse will come onto the aids, even if for just a split second. You may not be able to feel or see that response. But by letting go, you give the horse the benefit of the doubt that the response was there, and you are saying "this will profit you". You are rewarding the horse for the smallest "try".

The other thing that happens, is by doing a tug on one side, then on the other, you are fiddling around with the bit. And why doesn't your horse come onto the bit by itself in the first place? Think about it. It's scared. Your horse is scared of the bit, and what it can do to him, the discomfort, the pain. By doing a tug, you move the bit, but it's for such a short period of time, that the horse doesn't really have time to get worried about it. The next time the bit moves it's "old hat". And when things become "old hat" the horse is no longer worried about them.

Tug, tug, and let go

About 10 days ago I had my first lesson on Gally with Mark. It was just after I had read the "on the bit" chapter. Having read that chapter, I then rode Crownie, driving her up to the bit.

When I met up with Mark, I was brutally honest that I may well have been somewhat heavy handed with my horses. Mark is great in the sense that he listens to what you say, then he converts it into his own understanding of horses, and goes from there.

When I hopped on Gally, Mark immediately asked me to tug on the left rein, tug on the right rein and let go. The horse's head went down, and he relaxed. I relaxed. And here is the key. Tug once, tug a second time, then let go. Let go of the bit, let go of all tension, let go of your breath. The minute you start riding like this, you will feel riding take on another dimension.

Of course, the minute you have let go, you may need to start the next "tug, tug and let go" sequence. But the key is to let go after two tugs. I highly recommend trying this exercise, if only just for size. And if you're out competing, and are feeling nervous, this exercise can work wonders in settling your nerves.

TTT Horse Trials - Day 2

The morning starts with a cross country pace. Delicious cooked breakfast, thanks to Anita's camp cooking setup. Then, within minutes, the whole camp setup is put away, and replaced by two horses happily munching on hay.

We walk the cross country course. "Which is the hardest jump?", I ask. "Well, the first one", answers Anita. "I actually think it takes about three jumps for your horse to really get going. So the first three jumps are the hardest", I add. We are standing at jump number three - the dredge. I put my foot on the edge of the boxy wooden jump. "This will be your hardest jump. Make sure you drive." The rest of the course is pretty basic. As it should be, at grade 5. Although I think the water and the slide might sort out a few combinations.

Later at the float, Anita makes a comment that it's really the dressage, which determines how you place. I've now been to enough competitions to know that's not true. "I think you will find that there will be a lot of place shuffling after both the cross country and the showjumping".

I warm up Crownie for the cross country. We do a nice walk, trot, canter and then over the cross country warm up jump. She's a touch hesitant. We do the jump again, this time following another horse. She gets a lot of confidence from this. Once more - she powers over the jump. That's what I am looking for. Attitude. And she's got plenty of it.

We're off. Crownie lacks confidence, but she gets over one and two. At three she seriously doubts herself, but I give her no options. She bangs her legs but gets over it. And from there on it just flows. At jump 7 I slow her down because I know the photographer is on the other side. She stops at the water, zig zags left and right but doesn't actually step back. We're through. She finds the slide easy, and we bound over the last two. About 30 seconds over time. What a hoot! Best 5 minutes of my life!

The showjumping round is beautiful and flows really well. Crownie gets a rail down on the double. That's fine, since she's not really up to doubles yet. But we're under time, and it rides splendidly.

Anita also has lovely rounds in cross country and showjumping. Also a rail down.

I finish 10th. Anita is 8th!!! And she gets a sash! But the best thing is, Kris wins her grade 4 division! I think we'll be opening a bottle of champagne tonight!

TTT Horse Trials - Day 1

It takes me forever and a bit to get ready, but finally the show - me, float, horse and more gear than you can imagine - are on the road. I sms my team member. She's already there and replies that it's wet, muddy and slippery. Great.

When I arrive, Wandin is buzzing. Cars, trucks, floats, horses, makeshift yards. I have no idea where my team member Anita might be, and park myself where it looks suitably dry.

There must be well over 600 people here, but somehow, within minutes I manage to find Anita, friends Kris and Jen and an assortment of other eventers that I now "know". That's a big change from last year. But my fan club of Dad and Christine aren't here this time around. Never mind. I've had a shocking week and am happy to just get ready by myself.

I gaze at Crownie, and consider plaiting. I guess I have to start at some point, Crownie is probably the right horse to start with, and the occasion sufficiently momentous. Six plaits in, and Kris comes over to show me how to saw up the plaits into bubbles. Man, she's a pro at this. The little bubbles come out looking fantastic.

Saddle up, get dressed, and start warming up. I must admit that I am nervous. After all, it was at this very same place, that 3 months ago I competed on Gally and things slowly went out of control. At least that's how I view it now. But since then I've had two very significant lessons with Mark. I apply his teachings in my warmp up, and within minutes I am at ease and focusing on how well the horse is going, rather than whether the horse is in control.

The dressage test goes well. I probably would have like a bit more relaxation, but it's done and I am relieved.

As the day crowd retreats, we put the horses in the yards, I move my car next to Anita's, just a cooee from Kris and Jen. We put up the tent in between the cars, and the bonfire in front of the tent. Perfect!

Dinner is delicious. Sleep is blissful.

Up to the bit

Most riders, once they have mastered walk, trot and canter, get curious about how to get the horse to go "on the bit".

I am currently reading Tom Roberts' other book, "Horse control and the rider", and his chapter on "on the bit" fascinates me. I think I read it twice to really get the concept, and I definitely have never had it properly explained to me in a lesson. The one person who came pretty close was Greg Smith, my showjumping instructor.

Anyway. The conept is this. The bit is like a bar hanging in space. And the horse has to be ridden up to this bar. Further more, the horse has to take the bar in its mouth, and ride up to it just that little bit closer, and hold it in space. In the right space.

Your hands just need to hold the bar in space. That's it, they do nothing more.

And your seat and leg have to ride the horse up to that bar. And quite often you may need to use a bit of sideways movement to get there.

Ah! it's so simple ... once it's explained the right way.

Tuck your seat in

A while ago I came up with the concept of tucking your seat in, and I have stuck to this dilligently in 3 point position. And it has improved my riding.

Today I take Crownie for a ride in the state forest. It's an amazing morning (see the photos below), and I am glad to be wearing my winter coat. On the way back we gallop up a track. I really let Crownie take it away, and since she's had extra feed yesterday, she pulls out some speed.

As I am sitting there in two point, feeling the powerful galloping strides, holding my legs still, I think "and what is my seat doing?"

"OMG!!! It's somewhere up in the air, dangling around like a two bun target! Tuck your seat in!", I scream at myself.

I tuck my seat in. Wow! If I have ever had any problems in cross country, or in jumping, this is where they were. My seat dangling uncontrollably out behind me, unbalancing me on take-off and landing.

Teething problems

So, how did The Flummery perform?

Well, not bad. But, now I am totally confused whether to drive with vent open or closed? Do I leave the rug on my horse or take it off? Oh the dicisions.

Then it turns out the The Flummery is longer than the old blue float that always was, and shall remain, nameless. By about 80cm! That's a lot. It still fits in the shed, but now it's tight!

The driving experience is good. Very smooth. Especially with a horse on. But oh the fuel economy! Or lack there of!

And it turns out we need a slightly different tow bar attachment to raise the float level. Hopefully that will fix our bump problem, and some of our fuel economy.

I have to repeatedly remind myself that now we don't need to do body building to lift up the tail gate, that we have a back door, and that you don't need to know special touch points to close the front door.

I am so not good at moving up in the world.

Cross country training

Time to test The Flummery.

I lead Crownie up to the float. She takes a look around. "That doesn't smell like a horse float" she seems to say. She gets on. Ploomps. "Now it does".

We're off to the local pony club to do some cross country training.

I do a solid jumping warm up in the arena, then we head out to inspect the jumps. It's very wet and boggy. The approaches to some jumps are totally waterlogged. I don't feel confident at all about the normal warm up jumps, so I take a good look around and find some nicer ones.

This pays huge dividends as I feel relaxed and confident, and as a result, so does the horse. We can do a nice canter on approach and the jumping goes well. I get a good feel about the sort of jumps she finds easy, and the ones she questions. There is the odd jump where she stops then scrambles over it. This is obviously something we need to work on, in the future.

Today we cover off the necessary basics: ditch, drop, bank, water, log, tyres, and artificial drums of an odd colour.

The Flummery

Over the last couple of weeks I have made frequent phone calls to the float makers, to check on the progression of my new float. Every time I would ring them up, my introduction would be followed by a short pause, and then "Oh yes, of course, the flummery!". Apparently the colour was "intense".

Today, the time comes to pick up "The Flummery". Check it out!

Jumping canter

Today I start off Crownie's work by lunging her first. Over trot poles, then over jumps.

I am really pleased with her work over trot poles now. It's rythmic and steady, and she's lifting her legs. Nice.

The jumping isn't so good yet. She manages to knock the pole off a few times. This will profit you not. The pole goes back on, and she jumps it. The idea of jumping her on the lunge, is so that she has a chance to work on her own balance, without any interference from me. I like to think that these days I am sufficiently balanced that I help more than interfere, but even experiencing that difference for herself is good.

Then I start riding and just do dressage. That's right. The jumping was good enough, she jumped all her final jumps, end of lesson. At least on the jumping front.

In the dressage we work on getting those hind legs underneath. Walk, halt, trot and canter. Jumping canter. The time has come to work on fitness, and that of course means canter. Lots of it. Good, quality, jumping canter. She does well, and I can see that when we are done she is genuinely tired.

Inside leg

During my last couple of rides on Gally it became really obvious to me that the inside leg does a lot more than just sit there. It asks the horse to step under with his hindqurters, it asks the horse to yield and therefore to flex. When the horse flexes, the inside leg can step under more, then more flexion can be achieved, and the horse can carry himself.

Today I test this out on Crownie, in a bid to improve her dressage. Firstly in the halt. I bend her neck with the rein and ask her to move away from my inside leg. The head goes up as she tries to walk forwards. No, this is not what I am asking for, the lowly held rein bending her neck prevents her from rushing off. It does not prevent her from walking forwards - but then she has to follow the tight circle dictated by the rein. This is not exactly what I want, but it's a good effort.

I repeat the exercise multiple times on both reins, until the hind quarters start swinging out.

Then I repeat the exercise in the walk. Walk straight 5 metres, then do a volte. Drive the volte with the inside leg. It is amazing to see that after we leave the volte, Crownie's neck remains flexed and arched for two strides. That's what we're aiming to get all the time.

Then of course I need to take this into the trot and the canter.

The Chiropractor

Jamie arrives to see Crownie. I haven't seen him for about 8 years. He doesn't seem to smoke any more, but otherwise he hasn't changed much.

He has a good poke around the horse. He presses just behind the wither and the horse tries to walk off. "She's out just behind her wither. That's causing pinching pain down her shoulder." Then he presses a spot on the hind quarters. Crownie's backside dips. "Because of the pinching in her shoulder, she is compensating with her hindquarters, and she's put herself out in the lower back too."

Jamie does some adjustments then rechecks. Crownie stands quietly still as he pokes her in the very same spots that a minute ago caused discomfort.

"Put your hand on the wither", he says. I do. "What do you feel?"

"Heat. But just in here, in this very spot."

"Good. The adjustment causes inflamation. That's what you can feel. That will go away in an hour or two. Then you can ride her."

Jamie also checks her over for arthritis, and gives her a pretty clean bill of health.

Finally, we talk feeding and he suggests adding comfrey to her food, using fresh garlic instead of the sulphur, and adding a nettle and rosehip tea.

Gally's update

The phone rings a smigin past 9am. It's Mark.

"Well, Jamie checked Gally out yesterday afternoon. He was out in his lower back quite badly. Almost kicked and bit a chunk out of Jamie, just as I was coming out to tell him to beware", Mark giggles over the phone. "Turns out he's got a torn muscle too. Will need two to three treatments with the machine, and then we can resume training."

I give Mark the go ahead.

It's a pity that my poor horse was feeling so crook. I had just bought the horse, and was still getting to know him. So it was hard for me to determine what was normal behaviour, and what wasn't.

The good news is, sounds like he is fixable.

Sore backs

I just found this piece of information, posted on some forum by a guy called Ronald Aalders.

"It's a wide spread mistake to think that the response of a horse to a finger or blunt object along it's spine -bending down ward or dorsi flexion of the back- is a sign of pain.

It is not!

Every healthy horse without back problems has this response. It is a perfectly natural reflex response called 'spina prominens reflex' (thank you Dr. Rooney).

Why so many people continue thinking that it's a sign of pain is beyond me. It's rather the opposite. A horse that does not have this response, is likely to have a back problem. By tightening it's muscles the horse overrides the reflex, because the reflex hurts him."

I don't think this statement is 100% correct, but it's an interesting observation, and I will have to investigate further. I hope the three horses, and pony, in the paddock are feeling ready for testing tomorrow. What fun!

Gally's progress

I call my trainer.

"Hi Mark! How's my horse going?"

"Well, we trotted him out and he seemed a bit short in his stride. So I ran my hand down his back, and he almost sat down!", the friendly laugh echoes down the phone line. "I'm having a bit of a problem getting hold of Jamie (horse chiropractor). Otherwise I like him. He'll be a good horse for you. Yeah sure he's a bit green, and there's no lateral mouth on him, and there's no lateral movement on him, and he lacks forward. But, lets get Jamie out to him, and see what happens then."

Sheesh. The conversation made me "almost" sit down.

What bothers me is that I flagged the back problem with Anna when I first started having lessons on Gally. And she just cut me off mid sentence and told me to get on with it.

Of course, that's no excuse. I should have checked the horse's back myself. Lesson learnt.

Crownie ... your horse chiropractor will be coming out to see you as soon as I can get hold of him.

Working on fitness

In order to take Crownie eventing, she has to be fit. We ride out into the state forest, and walk for almost two hours. Towards the end we do a short trot and canter.

Walking is a great way to get horses fit. It strengthens their joints and ligaments. The fast fitness work can come later. But the walking builds a solid foundation that prevents horses from breaking down.

Later in the day I check her legs for heat and swellings. All good.

To jump

Today I commenced teaching Crownie to jump. I've jumped her before, but she's never had much of a formal education.

Now that I understand the concept of "This will profit you" and "This will profit you not", the training takes on a whole new wonderful dimension.

I have setup some tiny cross rails, and the whole idea is for Crownie to jump each one. All I have to do is show her that jumping over the logs profits her. So once she's over the log, I relax and leave her alone.

I keep repeating the exercise until I feel (intuition at work?) that she no longer looks to run out. That she feels the jump isn't an issue, and it's easier to actually just jump it rather than try something else. I don't increase the jumps in height.

The trainer

Today I took Gally to my trainer, Mark.

While I was there, I watched Mark in the process of braking in a young athletic filly. Athletic? Man, this horse was like a cat. She would twist this way and that. She was amazing. But Mark was equally amazing. He had an answer for everything she did, and he followed Tom Roberts principles of "This will profit you" and "This will profit you not" to the letter.

It was brilliant to watch, especially after finally understanding some of Gally's problems, some of my shortcomings, and the horse training principles as described by Tom Roberts.

The book

Recently on holidays I purchased a book by Tom Roberts "Horse Control: The Young Horse". (And, yes, I was following my intuition when purchasing this book.)

Well I started reading it today, and the cloud on how to train horses just totally lifted after reading the very first chapter.

In the past, I used to sit and dream about how one day I might write a book about training horses. Everything I had read so far didn't really get to the core. Most books were too convoluted, or too high level. And I wanted to write something that would be easy to follow. Well I am not going to do that anymore. Because I think I would be re-writing Tom Roberts' book, word for word. In fact, I don't think I could do quite as good a job as he does.

And I won't even start to summarise his book here. I couldn't do it justice. If you want to become a really good horse trainer, just go and read his book. (The book applies to all horses, not just young horses.)

The stack

Okay, the title is so obvious that I will get to the point.

A lady came out to assess my riding level on Gally and Crownie. Another couple of ladies came out to get assessed on their horses, because it's cheaper to buy assessments in bulk.

One of these lovely ladies was going over a jump when I asked Gally for canter. And "bang", off he shot like from a shot gun, and I fell off.

At this point Gally got put away, but I still got assessed on Crownie. Still did the required walk trot and canter, some jumps and a gallop up and down the hill. (Okay, I just trotted down the hill. Close enough.)

Now, I've fallen off before, and I've fallen off Gally before, but some events hammer things home stronger than others. This was one such event. Now, if you're thinking that I am now going to give up riding, and close this blog, you are wrong. Phew, I'm glad we got that out of the way. (The thought did cross my mind).

A whole lot of things actually got hammered home. I could sit here for a whole week writing about them. But the thing that got hammered home the most was, I haven't been listening to my intuition.

I have been aware of a whole heap of problems bubbling on in Gally, and from the first time I saddled him my intuition was screaming at me to take him to my trainer. Not my dressage coach. My horse trainer. The guy who taught me how to teach Princess not to rear.

So why didn't I do it? Logic. Too much logical thinking. "Well, the horse was broken in, and another girl has been riding and training him, and my coach rode him and said he is fine." The list of logical thinking goes on. But my intuition was screaming at me to seek help from Mark.

And I think this is the first key to horse riding. You must let go of logic, and follow your intuition.

Sweet spot

We're off for holidays today, and while the horses are enjoying lovely weather in the 20 acre paddock, I am writing about the sweet spot.

This is a spot on the horse's back, where I believe, the horse wants you to sit. I have been placed there by Gally himself. I first discovered it in canter. With Gally, you have to maintain quite a lot of drive. Especially in canter. Otherwise he starts humping. (Like bucking, but very very tiny. Almost laughable.) And as I was driving, and he relaxed in canter, I would always end up in this particular spot on his back. A lot more forward in the saddle than I expected. Almost on the whither. But it felt ... well ... perfect. And every time I would be in this sweet spot, the canter would improve.

The best way I can describe the concept of the sweet spot is imagine riding bareback up a very very steep hill. Now, don't hold onto the mane. What will happen? Will you start slipping down the horse's back, towards the tail? Yes?

If you're in the sweet spot, you won't slip back. When you're in the sweet spot your legs hang just in front of the horse's belly, and the power of your legs keeps them there. The belly prevents your legs from slipping back, the shoulder prevents your legs from slipping too far forwards.

Like I said, I found the sweet spot in canter. I then had to work backwards into walk and trot. Finding the sweet spot in walk was simple, but trot ... well, I'm still looking for it. I suspect that when my ankles stop bouncing in trot, then I've found it.

The sweet spot is not just a point on the horse where you sit. It is also the ability to keep yourself there as the horse moves. And this requires strength! But when you've got the feeling once, just once, you will go to all efforts of strength to keep yourself there. Why? Because once you're in the sweet spot you feel safe and secure, and like you "belong" on the horse.

And, it goes without saying, that if you're in the sweet spot when jumping it feels like flying.

Bush ride

A friend who doesn't have much access to trail riding has come up to visit. We go bush for over two hours.

During our first or second trot she points out how the ankles seem to dangle and move around in trot. "Does that happen to you? How do you stop that?", she muses. I look at my ankles bouncing around in rising trot.

The problem has me vexed for most of the ride. I play around with the sweet spot, this way and that. (I haven't actually had time to write about the sweet spot yet, so more about that some other time.) About half way through the ride, I think I have the problem sorted out. Not quite fool proof yet, though. So I keep quiet.

What amazes me more than the problem itself, is my attitude. When I first started riding I was distinctly "told" to try and keep my legs stiller. It took muscle. It was tiring. I gave it up after two strides. I just thought, "yeah, right, whatever, I haven't fallen off so it obviously doesn't matter".

Then along comes a friend, and basically gives me a challenge. "Betch ya can't keep yer ankles still while trotting". Well ... it's still tiring ... I got sucked in.

The ride, by the way, is awesome. We enjoy a few lovely canters, as well as the refreshing showers from the sky that seem to come at just the perfect moment.

Poles

Sourcing good jumping equipment for home use must be a thankless task for any horse rider. Up until now I have been using old pine posts that have been left over by the previous owners of our property. They are all sorts of sizes and weights, mostly very heavy. They are untreated, and after two or three years in the paddock, they are beginning to split and crumble.

About a month ago, I finally purchased some treated pine poles. Nice straight ones. Three metres long, and 10cm in diameter. And since then I've been slowly making headway in painting them. First undercoat. Then two coats of white paint. Today, the final touch, the red stripes go on.

Confidence

We ride out into the state forest again. Gally is still spooky. So I start riding like I mean it. Then we come to the puddle. The same one as yesterday. Except that it rained overnight, and the puddle is bigger. Not deeper. Just wider.

Gally skirts around the edges of it for a while. I turn him away, and try to back him into it. No go. I turn him around, and drive him forwards. All of a sudden he finds himself half in the puddle. I drop the reins, and let him stand there. He seems mistified.

We go out of the puddle and come back in again several times. Every time, I allow him time to just stand and relax in the puddle.

Finally we go on. We take a track into the valley, and then we canter up the hill. Gally breaks into trot when he sees a big log. I spur him on, back into canter. Half way up (the hill is about 2km long) I allow him to trot, then we canter on.

At the top, we relax in a loose rein walk. He is no longer spooking, but the walk is lazy. I spur him on into a more active walk, and even a loose rein trot. Every now and then I pat him with the crop.

When we come to a ditch full of water, I make him step across it. He hesitates briefly, then goes forward. We practice this about 5 times, until the tentative step turns into a cruisy little leap.

Then Gally thinks it's time to head home. He doesn't play up, he just faces in the direction of home, and refuses to budge. I spur him on, and give him a serious talking to. Yes, with my voice. I am so loud that I can probably be heard a mile around. And like a typical woman, I go on a bit too. The effect is great! Not only is Gally not spooking any more, he is actually walking forwards really well.

On the way home, we see some sheep. I ride on with confidence, with an attitude that we are "above sheep". Gally steps proudly forwards, and barely blinks an eyelid at the little creatures, as they scuttle away from the fence.

About that spook

We ride out into the state forest, and Gally is spooky once again. He stops and stares at logs and bushes. More so than he did two weeks ago.

Just recently, my dad mentioned that perhaps I am too aware what Gally might spook at, and so he spooks because I expect him to. I think he is half right. Most of the spooking Gally does is at stuff I could never predict would be spooky. So, he doesn't exactly spook because I expect him to. However, I don't think I ride him with enough "we can conquer all" confidence. I don't ride with enough arrogance (maybe because my mother has spent most of her efforts trying to erradicate it from me). I don't ride with enough "we're above it all". I don't ride like I'm going to win the battle.

It's not a physical problem. Physically, I have the skills to ride like that. It's a psychological problem. Poor attitude. Poor focus. It's the little voice talking it up - Gally might take off, or might do one of his "twist left, twist right" tricks. Or he might pig root.

He might do one of those. Or all three. So?

So I start riding like I mean it. And Gally doesn't do a thing. He just gets on with it and goes forward. And I gain confidence. And on the way home we even play around at the edge of a big, but shallow, puddle.

Warragul Show

The alarm goes off and I sit on the edge of my bed. "Make food, get dressed, pack car, get Tornado, dress and feed Sabina", I think. "What first? Get dressed, then make food, then ... so, what was I going to do first?". I am going around in circles, clearly, not quite awake.

Finally I move it, and the show is on the road. But, we are half an hour late, and no matter of brilliant organisation saves us from missing our first class.

Lesson number 1: allow at least 1 hour of extra time. Half an hour is not enough.

I look around. "And in ring three we have class 17", the speaker blares. "Fantastic", I say to Sabina. "We want to compete in class 23. We will just hang around here."

We mill around watching. Unlike Neerim Show, there really isn't much room here to ride around, so we really are stuck in the one spot.

I never washed Tornado before the Warragul Show (ran out of time), but I've made him look pretty neat and tidy by brushing. When Sabina gives him a nice pat on the backside, clouds of dust rise swiftly around us. "Someone needs a bath", quipps a passing lady with mild disgust. I smile gallantly and proceed to brush him down for the umpteenth time with my glove.

Eventually, almost 2 hours later, I edge Sabina and Tornado into the led class we've been waiting for. I spy a nice older gentleman with a well behaved chestnut pony. "Just follow that gentleman", I say to her. And she does, parading around the ring. Every time she passes me I give words of encouragement, telling her how well she is doing, while the judge is facing the opposite direction, hugging an old acquaintance, and showing off her engagement ring. (The judge appears to be well over 55!)

The judge returns her attention to the job at hand, and I rest any previous evil thoughts when I see how patient and caring she is with Sabina. After all, this is a led pony class, and Sabina is up against adults. In the end Sabina and Tornado come in equal fourth, and she gets a ribbon. Her smile spreads from ear to ear, and all of a sudden she thinks it was all worth it.

Nevertheless, Lesson number 2: The bigger the show, the more dignified the judges, and hence classes take a long time to judge. Each judge is different, so take a sample time of each judge, and multiply it out. And don't forget to factor in time for Championship classes!

Collorary to lesson number 2: Bring a bucket with touch up materials, and touch up the pony just before his class.

We stroll back to the float. I am just about over it, and Sabina rips off her jodhpurs with joy. We grab her lollypop from last night,

and enjoy the atmosphere of the show.

We return to the float, and I realise that we've got enough time to make our next class. The jodhpurs go back on, Tornado gets saddled, and we're back in the ring.

The judge asks for both sitting and rising trot. I explain to Sabina what rising trot is, she practices a few times at standstill, then we do our workout. On the way back she has the most natural, most happy smile. It's a pity we don't get judged on that smile alone. The class is actually quite big, and we come in fifth. Another ribbon. Sabina is overjoyed.

We return to the float, and finally I take a well earned break. I fiddle around with Tornado, brushing him and thinning his mane, just for the fun of it. Sabina joins me, and we have one of those special mother-daughter moments.

"Sabina, what would have been better? To have done the rides last night, like we did, or to have skipped the rides, got early to bed, and got early to the show?", I ask.

"Go early to bed", she responds. That's my girl!

Later we go for another show ride.

Lesson number 3: It seems that when you're five, nothing beats riding a horse on a merry-go-round.

Float shopping

Today I forgo my horse ride. The time has come to buy a new float.

The float I currently use actually belongs to my girlfriend. She doesn't exactly need it much right now, and I am happy to maintain it, so it's a very happy state of affairs. But the float has seen many years of good service with us alone, we've had a good run, and it is now time to upgrade.

I have been doing much research regarding floats over the last two years, so today, when I roll into Rowville Floats, I am ready to make a purchase.

The lady at Rowville takes me through the factory floor, showing me various models and options. I marvel at the thought that's gone into the floats and their design. In the end I settle for a Traveller model, with a couple of extras. Then I spend copious amounts of time choosing the colour. Just when I think I am done, the lady mentions that I also need to choose the colour for scrolls and pin striping!

So Flummery (think vanilla custard) with Charcoal scrolls it is. For now. Until Sabina convinces me that Dusty Pink would look great with a red car!

Seville Pony Club Horse Trials

We're off to a competition today, and Gally will not get on the float. Luckily, Pete is happy to help, and we're on our way. (Where is the magic patting trick? Clearly, not working.)

We arrive at Wandin and settle in. I tack up for dressage and report to gear check.

"Oh, I am sorry, but you can't ride with spurs or with that whip", says the gear checker. "But you can ride with a crop. Oh, and you must have a medical arm band."

I zip back to the float, make the necessary adjustments and return to the gear check.

"Oh, I am sorry, but you must take your earings out." Now, is there any reason they couldn't tell me that the first time around?

I do as told, get a cute little dot on my arm band, and proceed to warm up. Bang! We find ourselves on the opposite side of the warm up area, in an unseated, uncontrollable rush. I end up on the ground, still holding onto the reins.

A lady runs up to me. "I am so sorry, my daughter's horse tripped." "So?", I think to myself. "Now according to the new pony club rules, you can't get back on until you've been cleared by the medical team", she goes on. I roll my eyes. "But I am a doctor, and I think you're fine to get back on."

Another woman runs up. "Oh you just dismounted, didn't you?", she asks. Yeah. Like I dismount at almost flat chat gallop on the off side all the time. It's a little trick I do at competitions.

I mount up and continue my warm up. A horse snorts, and Gally rushes off again, but this time I stay on. Someone sneezes, rush. A horse comes up behind, rush. On the one hand, I have a horse that's not going forward, on the other hand I get mad rushes and leaps every now and then.

Then a friend arrives, and I allow Gally to stand while we chat. I've given up on the dressage warm up.

Finally it's my turn. I ride up to the judge, introduce myself, and commence the test. It's two points short of brilliant. Gally doesn't shy once, and while he's a bit wobbly on the left rein, the right rein is just perfect. Excellent trot. Brilliant canter. Sure it could all do with some spurs. But, as my friend puts it, it's 200% better than 3 months ago.

I put Gally away and walk the cross country course. It looks Gally friendly.

During the warm up for XC, Gally is jumping well, but his behaviour between jumps is rediculous. He does this thing where he twists left, then right, then rushes off. Or he puts his head down after the jumps and starts humping. By this stage, my brain seems to have kicked in, and I manage to catch him with the rein on his first twist. Or on his first or second hump. It all happens so fast though, that it's never a conscious reaction.

Finally we're on the course, and Gally thinks it's time to race back to the float. I slow him down. "Oh me gott, there's a jump in front of us", freaks Gally. "Oh, and there's person to the left", he veers a metre off course. I refocus him on the jump and we get over number one. "Now it's time to go back to the float", Gally tries to gallop off.

We approach nubmer 2 at trot, with Gally trying to go left and right. "Oh mee, there's a person", he freaks at the judge. Those judges on course, they sit really still, but I am starting to wish they'd wave.

Number 3 is a boxy little tractor, and he just can't do it from a standstill. We circle and he jumps it on the second approach. At the ditch he still gawks at the judge. At number 5 he nods at the judge. Then he freaks out at the fallen log in the middle of the paddock. It's not part of the course, but Gally just cannot believe we can just cruise past it and not get eaten.

Then we get our groove. Six is a breeze, and we're half way over 7, when "click" goes the camera. Gally freezes mid-stride. I laugh at the camera man, and on we go. A few more jumps, then ... water. Like last time, we don't actually have to do the water, but we have to do a jump on the other side of the water. It's not "flowing", it's not fast, but we succeed. And the rest of the course is put away without another hiccup. I am very proud of my little horse.

The showjumping is running very late, and the line up is absolute chaos. People are pushing in under the pretext of work and funerals. Finally, we get our turn, and Gally jumps a very calm round. Albeit so slow, that we get 4 time penalties.

The results read something like this: after the dressage we were equal fourth! Then we got two refusals and time penalties in cross country, and time penalties in showjumping. Which leaves us second last. But ... but ... not eliminated. Yay!

More spook

Today we ride into the state forest. Gally is going well, but he appears to be more spooked by everything than normally. We can ride past everything, but it's like he has lost confidence.

On the other hand, when we trot I get a beautiful trot, on the aids, nice and relaxed with rhythm and swing in his stride. In the past most trots were like running.

So now I am confused as to what is causing the change. Is it the fact that the "patting" has somehow made him rely on me more, because I am now the boss. Or has our little run and bail episode yesterday changed the nature of riding?