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!