My best Cross Country so far (Mornington Peninsula Pony Club Horse Trials)

Dingo safely over jump number 2 in the showjumping.

"An arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards.  So when life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means that it's going to launch you into something great.  So just focus, and keep aiming."

(As with a lot of Horse Trials, this event was run over two days.  I was competing grade 4 on Dingo, and our Dressage and Showjumping were on Saturday, with Cross Country on Sunday.)

I rock up to the venue alone as my handy little strapper is off at a friend's birthday party.  She will be joining me later, and in addition to Dingo, I also unload Tornado, who immediately gets "oohs" and "ahs" and "isn't he cute" from the adjacent float.

I potter around doing the usual stuff, registration, cleaning the float, tying up the hay for the ponies, getting acquainted with where the rings are, when suddenly it dawns upon me.  I realise just exactly where I am.

My mind flashes back to a bleak day, about 16 years ago, when I had my first competition attempt on my first horse.  Princess.  My friend's Dad floated us and our two horses out here for a hickstead.  My Mum came out to watch - I was kind of hoping she would be my support crew - but when she saw Princess rear at a piece of hay on the ground, a mere 2m from the float, she couldn't bare to watch and she left.  She's never been back.

There are many stories to be told about that day, what with me and band aids and stuff, but the long and short of it was that I never competed.  My horse was out of control, and when I tried to follow my friend over the warm-up jump, Princess and I parted company.  My friend's Dad kindly captured the fall on video, and we have all laughed about it ever since.

Well, today is more sunny than bleak, but the memory opresses me somewhat.  It lingers in my mind, it haunts me.  It's like a mist in the air - you can't quite grab it, you can't disperse it, and yet it's there clouding your view.

I get on with the job at hand, and the Dressage goes reasonably well.  At least we seem to have conquered one thing - Dingo is no longer on three tracks, no longer eying off the white edge of the arena.  We even get some lengthening in the trot.  Woo hoo!

Then my husband arrives with my daughter, and the clouds begin to gather.  No, the weather is just fine.  In fact, the weather is getting more pleasant and summer like by the minute.  The emotional clouds.  Something about me "riding horses too much" comes out.  I bristle up like a terrified echidna, and the sharp discussion just adds to my anxiety.  My husband departs, and I start warming up Dingo for the showjumping.

The showjumping warm-up area is not ideal.  There is a nice warm-up area with jumps, but that's only for the three horses about to do their rounds.  Everyone else ... well, maybe the Dressage warm-up area?  It's not far, but you won't exactly hear your number being called.  I know I need that extra warm-up, so I head two paddocks down.

Then I spot her - my friend who's Dad brought us here so many moons ago.  What a sight she makes.  Striding confidently as ever, big smile on her face, her two gorgeous girls in tow.  We have a laugh about the old times, then I proceed with my warm-up.

When I enter the jumping warm-up area, I don't feel confident.  All is not well.  There is stuff playing in my mind, but I can't quite grasp what's going on, or what I need to do about it.  I tackle the cross rail.  Ok.  I tackle the straight bar and Dingo skids to an amazing stop - he'd get 10 out of 10 if this was a Western Show.  I get catapulted forwards along the neck, and stop just behind his ears.  Perhaps I grab the ears, perhaps I don't, but somehow I stay on and manage to slide back down the neck towards the saddle.  My friend runs out laughing, and holds Dingo while I slip back into the saddle.

The steward looks at me dubiously, and calls out "Are you ready?".  The showjumping ring is ready, the judges are ready - I wonder whether they actually saw the last showjumping round, or whether they were watching the "sliding stop show" next door.  Am I ready?  No way!  "Yep", I say and ride into the ring.  Some things are just meant to happen, and you've got to let God play it his way.

We're over the cross rail, then Dingo stops at number two.  I turn him in a tight circle, which puts him on his hindquarters, and we get over it.  We have another refusal, but other than that go clear, although somewhat out of control.  The crowd - primarily my friend and my daughter - go wild.  "I got a photo of Dingo stopping!", my daughter jumps up and down with excitement.  "I got the whole thing on video", laughs my friend.

Now the day has turned seriously warm, and with all this anxiety and excitement I am feeling very thirsty.  My friend pulls out some fresh fruit and we relax on the grass while our girls play with Tornado.

We make the one and a half hour trip home, and then the heavens open up - the evening is an emotional disaster.  There's a part of me that just wants to collapse and forget the XC tomorrow.  Even without the emotional turmoil, it was going to be hard enough.  Now I have "rides too much" and "competes too much" and a swag of other accusations to deal with.  I would love to just give up, but something in me stays more determined than even "me".  Plus, I need to go there tomorrow anyway to judge a cross country jump.

The next day I wake up looking about 10 years older.  The anxiety of "how exactly am I going to ride this cross country course?" is massive.  When I load Dingo on the float he starts shaking.  It's balmy warm.  He's shaking with fear.  It's not helping.

During the journey many visions flash through my mind - mainly of Dingo stopping at a fence, of me falling off somewhere, of someone approaching my daughter and saying "unfortunately, your mother has fallen off".  It's crushing.

When we arrive at the venue the cross country for the higher grades is in progress, and the entrance we used yesterday is blocked off.  There is another entrance but we're not sure where that is, and I'm anxious and edgy so I'm not brilliant at finding my way.  About 3 U-turns later - U-turns with a float and two ponies, on busy roads, feeling anxious! - about 3 U-turns later we arrive, park and unlaod.  We have just enough time to report for jumps judging.

We set ourselves up at the last jump, our backs to the sun.  It's the first day of summer.  I give my daughter the job of recognising the numbers.  I put on my safety vest, turn on my walkie talkie, and look down at my clip board.  I have never been a cross country judge before.  In my clipboard I have a score sheet, and a "fall report" sheet.  On the fall report it has three squares for reporting the severity of the fall.  They are labelled: Mild, Severe, Fatal.  Fatal.  Sobering.

The riders start coming through and we watch carefully for numbers, stops and refusals.  I watch how these riders ride their horses, how they approach the jump, and how they jump it.  Most of the horses go clear.  As my judging time draws to a close, I form a plan.

I relax, and speak directly to my subconscious mind "I want you to ride like a pro today.  All these riders you've just seen, they ride like amateurs.  I know, that you know how a pro rides.  I know that I have all the skills and ability to ride like a pro.  I want you to ride like a pro today."  Then I take a long hard look at the last jump, and visualise Dingo going over it and across the finish line, while I punch the air and shout "that was the best 5 minutes of my life".  And from then on, everytime I get a vision of me having a mishap, I replace it with the picture of Dingo going clear over the last.

In the cross country warm-up I focus on control.  This has been my bane ever since the start of time.  The warm-up goes well, and I don't get a single refusal.  I get out of control on the landing a couple of times.  A couple of times - that means two.

The starter counts me down, and we're off.  Not at some fast canter, or mad gallop, but at a controlled trot.  Three strides out from the jump I make sure that Dingo has seen it.  Two strides out, I let him go and he pops over it effortlessly.  It feels like just another canter stride.  Then he tries to flatten out.  I don't let him.  I bring him back to a bouncy canter, a collected trot, anything, as long as his hindquarters are underneath him.

And so we tackle the course.  One jump at a time.  Total control in between the jumps.  Sometimes I let him go two strides before the jump, sometimes just one stride.  At the steps I ride him right up to the jump, nice and slow - after the first drop he falters for a split second - as expected.  He's never done steps before.  At the ski ramp I hear Tornado neigh and I clamp my legs on tighter to make sure that Dingo stays focussed.  Then Dingo eyes off the water, and thinks about skirting around the edge.  I drive him forwards.  The cheer squad, led and rallied by my daughter, claps.  And then ... and then the last jump is right there in front of me.  I drive my pony towards it, and we clear it, we pass the finish line, and I punch my fist into the air and call out "that was the best 5 minutes of my life".  I glance at my stop watch - ok, maybe the best 7 minutes.

Sabina runs towards me, joy on her face, and we give each other a hug.  We give Dingo a hug - he is lathered with sweat.  The Vet gives us the thumbs up and we're off to get a long cold drink.  Half way to the canteen, I stop, look at my daughter and say "Sabina, I've just had my Christmas".

The last jump on the cross country course.

XC Review: Bulla Horse Trials

In the background - jump 3 on the Cross Country course.  This jump caused a few refusals at the higher levels.

The Bulla grounds are just East of Tullamarine Airport, and if you have a child fascinated with planes then bring them here.  You get to see aeroplanes taking off and landing all day long, and they are close enough to make out the brands on the tail, but not so close that you get bothered by the noise.

The cross country is set on beautiful undulating terrain.  Like a scaled down Wandin.  Most of the jumps are set either on fairly flat ground, or across the hill, and the course rides really well.

I did Level 5 at Bulla, so my comments relate primarily to that level.  The height of the jumps was perfect, with some smaller jumps, and some at the maximum height.  The variety of jumps was fantastic, with little trakeners, brushes, logs, and other challenging looking obstacles.

I would rate the water jump at this event as hard.  The entrance to it is fairly narrow, the water is dark and murky, and it seems deeper than some other events.  Having said that, a horse that's used to water will have no problems with it.  But I think it deserves a healthy respect.  The water is also late in the course, so if you get elimiated there you only miss the last jump or two.

Overall this is a great course, especially at the lower levels, with a great variety of obstacles.  I would happily travel the 2 hours for a Cross Country clinic here.  And my 8 year old daughter on her pony - start here!

XC Review: Woady Yaloak Horse Trials

Woady Yaloak is a wee bit South of Ballarat, on flat land.  Having said that, there are small undulations in the land - not dissimilar to those found on a BMX track - and each one of those is cleverly used to get you jumping either up the hill, or down the hill.

Most of the jumps are either natural obstacles, or made of unpainted wood.  No scary looking chook houses or trains here.  Most of the jumps are about 65cm or so, which makes it look like a really nice beginners Intro course.  And then you get to the brush, with the ditch before it.  The brush is a serious 80cm, and the ditch adds a fair bit of scare factor.

In addition, the event is keen to become a serious contender on the eventing calendar, so you can expect some new jumps to appear in the future.

If it wasn't for that ditch-brush fence, then I would rate this as the most inviting Intro course I have seen to date.  However, because of this fence I would make it your third attempt at Intro.

As a side note, parking at this even was an issue.  The organisers are aware of this.

XC Review: Wandin ODE

Everybody knows Wandin.  It is open and undulating, with the odd steep section.  This year a new Intro and Prelim course have been built in Big Wandin.  Before these courses were built, they were run in Little Wandin.

The new Intro course is big.  The jumps are big and solid, and if you're not comfortable jumping the 80cm, then don't attempt this.

Other than the jumps being imposing, the course is actually a very good Intro course.  The jumps are spaced a long distance apart, giving you lots of time to catch your breath and balance in between.  There are no difficult banks, drops or ditches, and the water is simple.  There is a sunken road section that has a steep slope going into it.  I am not sure how it rode, as I didn't ride it (finding the constant 80cm too much for me), but it's a solid half way into the course, so by this stage you and your horse should be travelling well and it shouldn't cause any issues.

The second half of the course sends you up a hill that's more in the steep zone, so your horse needs to be fit enough to jump the big jumps that follow.

To me, as a pretty inexperienced eventer at this level, it seemed like a fairly advanced course simply because of the height.  (Keep in mind that my mount is 13.2hh.)  Something you would do before going Prelim.  The jumps are also solid and inventive - trains, chook houses, that sort of thing.  However, when I think of the technical difficulty of the course, its actually quite simple, with most jumps on a fairly flat approach and landing.

So, if you and your horse is comfortable with the 80cm required, then I would definitely add this course to your eventing calendar.  Perhaps not as a first up event, but maybe third or fourth.

XC Review: Pakenham Horse Trials

The beautiful water complex at Pakenham Pony Club.

Pakenham is totally flat.  Upper Pakenham, which is where the Pakenham Pony Club is, is steep.  Undulating at best.  The Pakenham Pony Club grounds are vertical!!! 

The grounds have been cleverly terraced to provide flat areas for the club rooms, arenas and access roads.  The cross country course starts at the top of the hill, and runs across the slope.  It utilises all the undulating sections (as opposed to steep) to kindly meander down to a wonderful water complex in the valley.  Then it turns around and makes it's way only about half way up the hill.  So your horse doesn't need to be excessively fit to complete the course.  Nevertheless, this is not a course for the faint hearted, and just the lay of the land is enough to give you vertigo.

The height of the jumps at EA Intro is just perfect.  Most of them are about 65cm high, and fairly straight forward.  The water complex was followed by a couple of 80cm portables, which I thought was quite challenging as your horse just came out of the water, but then had to jump the maximum height jumps in close succession.  Other than that, I thought it was quite a nice entry level course.

If your horse is a solid HRCAV Level 4 performer, and you can comfortably trot down hills, then I would definitely consider this as your first EA Intro outing.  My 8 year old daughter at level 5 on her pony - barely in control - no chance.  I would want to see my daughter tackle all the other level 5 courses I can find in the area, before I allowed her to ride this - simply because of the steepness.

XC Review: Yarrambat Pony Club

The region is generally known for its steepness and relentlessly winding roads.  However, the Yarrambat Pony Club grounds, including the cross country course, are uncharacteristically flat.  You'd call it undulating at best.

In this particular case I did the Grade 4 course.  The height of the jumps was perfect for Grade 4, with very few being at maximum height.

The complexity of the course was another matter altogether.  The first jump was tyres with agapanthus growing out of it.  A lovely jump, and rode very well, but it certainly added a few jitters as the first jump.  The second jump was a key hole, and the organisers managed to leave an A4 sheet of paper (which instructed the Grade 3 riders that this jump will be raised for their course), attached to the jump and flapping in the wind.  The third jump was a small jump onto a sunken road type thing - not the easiest of things to be tackling at the start.  Well, so now having tackled all these difficult jumps, the rest of the course was easy right?  No!  There were numerous other questions along the course, and the complexity of the course certainly made up for the lack of height in places.

The course rode beautifully.  There is a lovely long stretch along a model aeroplane airfield, which allows you test out your gallop.  (The model aeroplanes did not fly on cross country day).  The return is a little more undulating, cutting through a strand of trees.  The water jump is friendly, although it pays to plan your approach.

I think I would want one other course at Grade 4 under my belt before I rode this course.  If my 8 year old daughter was capable of controlling her pony in undulating terrain, then I would certainly let her have a go at Grade 5 here.

The Cross Country Course Review Series

Recently I have managed to make it to a few cross country courses, either because I have competed there, was intending to compete, or just went to have a look in case I decide to compete there in the future.

I have decided to do a review of these - for my own benefit, as well as for everyone else's.

All the courses reviewed are generally EA Intro level (EA80).  In each review I try to look at the lay of the land (steep, flat, undulating), the height of the jumps, the technical difficulty of the course, the challenges specific to that course, as well as whether it's a basic or advanced Intro course.

One of the things I've noticed is that the courses that are on steep land do everything to make them flat, while the courses that are on flat land do everything to create uphills and downhills.  And just because a region is known for its steepness, doesn't necessarily mean that the XC course is set on steep land.

Balance

One of the most important things I have taken away from my lessons with Ron Patterson is "balance".

In my very first lesson with Ron, he walked up to my horse, pointed two fingers just in front of the girth, and just below the saddle flap, and said "Your horse's centre of gravity is here".

My mind panicked, because of course I was sitting a solid 10cm behind that point.  But as it was my first lesson, shyness overtook me, and I said nothing.  I wish I had screamed "why am I sitting so far back then?  Isn't that wrong?".  I should have screamed.  Or at least asked the question.

Later in the lesson, when Lil was travelling particularly sluggishly, Ron told me to lean forward.  But he meant bring the hips forward, not lean forward with your shoulders.  The minute I brought my hips forward, Lil shot forward with renewed energy.

Since that experience I have been madly experimenting with balance.  The more I experimented, the more I got it right.  The more I got it right, the more my position aligned with the text book description of what a correct position looks like.  But, I've stressed this before, and I will stress it again - the correct position feels nothing like what it looks like.  Don't copy the visual perception, understand how it needs to feel.

Also, the more I got it right, the more I realised how unbalanced I had been.  I realised how often I lost my balance; how often I still lose my balance.  I learnt how much I had been sitting back in the saddle as though it's a recliner.  Or leaning on the reins for balance.  It's not that I didn't have the strength or the skill, it's just that no one had explained it correctly.

When you are unbalanced, the more fussy horses will fuss because, quite frankly, they are not comfortable.  They might run, put their ears back, or pigroot.  I have experienced all of these, at various levels, on different horses.  My first reaction was always to question the horse's soundness - is it's back ok?  is it stiff?  do I need to call out the chiropractor?  And I hate calling out the chiropractor - it's expensive!

I noticed that Lil's fur was wearing thin just where the back of the saddle sits (Lil is my more fussy horse, who puts her ears back a lot, and has thrown the odd pigroot or two).  Maybe the saddle doesn't fit correctly?  I also hate calling out the saddle fitter - it's also expensive.  Well, I have found that since realising where true balance lies, and working towards perfecting my balance, those saddle marks have disappeared.

And regarding those pigroots - imagine if you were wearing a backpack, and that pack kept sliding further, and further down your back.  What "action" would you do to send it back up?  Wouldn't it be the equivalent of a pigroot?  I am not saying that all pigroots are caused by poor balance.  I am just saying that if your horse pigroots, try and fix your balance first.

So, how do you know if you're balanced?  How do you achieve balance?  Halt.  Stand up in your stirrups.  Drop the reins.  Balance.  Found that sweet spot?  Now drop all the weight into your heels.  Balance.  Find that sweet spot again.  Now lower your bottom until it just touches the saddle.  Don't sit down.  Just touch.  Now ride.  Walk, trot and canter.  Try to ride on a loose rein so that you don't use your reins to balance.  For one or two or three or however many sessions it takes, forget your reins, and forget about your horse.  Once you get your balance your horse will progress much faster, and you will make up the time.

Don't look for perfection.  Just look to get the "feel" of it.  You'll probably spend the rest of your riding life perfecting it.  You just need to become aware of what true balance really is.

You are allowed to have a break.  Sit back in the saddle.  But see that as a break, then get back to balancing again.  Once you "get" the "feel" it will become easier.  You'll be able to relax.  You'll be able to play with it.  Enjoy it.

Pakenham Upper Riding Club Combined Training

Lil showing some style in the Dressage.

Two horses on the float, half asleep daughter in the back seat, and I have never been this relaxed on my way to a competition.  I must be getting seasoned, or something.  At 6:06 am we roll out the front gate.  (6 minutes late - negligible).

No yards to hold the horses this time, so we tie them up to the float and cross fingers.  (Later on I discover where the yards are, but by that stage Lil is so settled it matters no more).

Lil is up first.  At gear check the ladies comment that she's shivering with fear, which, she is.  To me her state of mind seems much more sensible than last competition.  She warms-up well. but remains anxious to get back to Dingo.  Her dressage ring runs about 20 minutes late.  If I had known this I would have warmed her up differently.

The Dressage test goes relatively well.  I do my final halt at G rather than X, and it costs me 2 points as an error of course.  I am actually amazed that I got the rest of it right.  Might have to add some priority to learning tests in the future.  There are many details that could be fixed, but overall it was far more relaxed than Bulla.  It was also a Level 4 test, which asks for 20m circles in canter, and I was very pleased with those.  Especially considering that just yesterday I was getting some serious pigroots.

The warm-up arena for showjumping is right at the very top of the hill.  From there you get the most amazing view into the La Trobe valley.  It's like you're on top of the world.  And horses, or at least Lil, don't really like being on top of the world.  It's scary stuff!  Regardless, I make good progress in the warm-up, and then eye off the showjumping course.  The dazzleboard has certainly proven to be a show stopper, and the brick wall looks ominous.  Lil jumps well, but the dazzle board stumps her.  I drive hard and she jumps it, but has a rail down.  She puts in a big jump over the brick wall, but it never causes a problem.

I think that's a really good effort for her first (jumping) start at Level 4.

Lil getting some air in the Showjumping warm-up.

 Dingo's turn.  The dressage appears to have caught up, so I don't have as much time to warm-up as I hoped.  However, I get him going well, and I don't think more time would have made that much difference.  Dingo's dressage test is amazing.  It's not good enough to put him in the lead, but there is a world of improvement since 6 months ago.  There is "on the bit", there are moments of relaxation and a flowing trot, and the canters are slow and steady.  Mind you, I was using quite a lot of force to get those canters.  The judge comments that he can be "unsteady in the head".  Six months ago he was madly head shaking all through the test.  Like I said.  Amazing.

At the showjumping warm-up arena, Dingo is not as phased by the location as Lil was, and the warm-up is fairly normal.  He jumps over the cross rail, but when it comes to the straight bar he slams the breaks on big time.  What?!  I try again.  Same.  I have a look at the surface - the sand there is pretty deep.  Hmm.  I do know that is his weak point.  I should be panicking, I should be getting the cold sweats, I should be digging my heels in and flailing with the crop.  But, I'm not.  I'm totally calm as I observe my mind trying to find a solution that's in line with my training.

"Drive more".  The "drive" gives me a pony that's on the forehand, and it feels like I'm trying to hold back a steam train with my hands.  "So lift him a bit".  The lift helps.  I keep adjusting Dingo, and testing the feel on the cross rail.  Finally I'm happy, and he sails over the straight bar.  That's good enough.  My daughter and I head back down to the showjumping ring.

"Mama, you've got to get more drive", my daughter shakes her head at me.  "You've really got drive him.  Don't let him turn away.  Drive, drive, drive.  You must add more drive."  We pass some floats, and a lady gives us a knowing look.

I start my showjumping round.  I drive and lift and we clear the first jump, and then I know we're good.  I keep adjusting, a bit more drive here, a touch more lift there.  Dingo sails around the course as though it's child's play.  He never even glances at the dazzleboard, and he does a huge jump over the wall, but only because I prepped him up for it.  Probably with the look of fear painted on my face.  Clear.  That's all that matters in the end.

Sabina is ecstatic.  Obviously I've followed her advice.

We don't get any placings, and I'm wondering how I'm going to face my husband without a ribbon.  But I am very happy with the performance of both horses, I can see a lot of improvements, I've had a couple of "A-ha" moments, and I've got lots of material to work and improve on.

In the end I think Dingo came equal 11th, and Lil came about 16th in a field of 22 horses.

Lil now goes out for a spell of about 3 to 4 weeks.  While Dingo ramps up his training in preparation for Horse Trials.

Dingo flying over the wall in Showjumping.

Bulla Horse Trials - Ricky Bannister Fundraiser

The alarms goes off at 4:50am, and I groan.  Daylight savings started a mere 3 hours ago.  But my brain surges ahead with the plans: get dressed, feed the horses, attach the float, come back to get Sabina, then load Lil.  Phew!  I like a girl with a plan.  Plan executed, and at 6:13am we are driving out the front gate.

The journey is boring at best.  We roll up at Bulla Pony Club, park, unload, visit the bathroom, and register.  The usual stuff.  Lil has clipped herself during the travel - it's totally minor, but I make a mental note to float her in bell boots on the front legs in the future.

The dressage warmup is in a huge grassy area that, in a couple of hours, will become the cross country course.  Our ring is right next to the road, with a strand of small trees, bush and scrub acting as a screen.  So you can hear the cars coming, but you can't see them until they are pretty close.  Lil's "relaxing" is not going well.  I try my best.  I think it's my best.  But I know it's not.  In addition our two weeks of holidays and daily feeding for Lil means I am on a fairly hot horse who just wants to canter.  That's great for cross country.

We ride up to the judge, and on the gravelly surface, next to the road Lil tenses up, and I can't really find the right button to push to change it.  So the dressage is terrible.  It's something that would be "just ok" with Dingo, but I really expect a lot more than that from Lil.

The showjumping, in contrast goes brilliantly.  Lil is a bit hot during the warm-up.  But she is keen rather than disobedient.  She does a showjumping round that the onlookers call "stylish".  Shucks.

After the jumping we get a breather - lunch, coffee, walk the cross country course and check out the results.  The cross country course is beautiful.  For the first time in my life I am not nervous about cross country.  I re-walk the course in my mind, and start worrying that perhaps I should be nervous.  I manage to grow respectful, rather than foolhardy, and leave it at that.

The results are another matter.  After the dressage I am coming =14th (last!) in a field of about 18 riders.  Hardly surprising.  However, after showjumping I move up to =12th.

The event is running early, and by the time I make it to cross country warm-up it's actually time to ride.  A few riders skip the queue ahead of me, and we get enough time for trot, canter, and a few jumps.  It's all Lil needs.  She's keen.

We head out of the starting gates at an easy trot as Lil assesses the course.  Lil's not quite sure what to lock onto just yet, and she takes the odd look at the jumps judges.  So it's a bit all over the place for the first four jumps.  Then we get our groove.

Number 5 is a double, the second part being a little brush and we almost have a run-out.  After that I take a bit of a stronger hold.  We bowl along at a fast canter, and I get the feeling that Lil is really happy with the pace, but also happy to come back when I ask.  It's magic.

Just before the water I slow her down to a walk.  I know my daughter is just there, watching, and I ensure that we do the perfect pass through the water - that is, the speed at which we approach the jump, is the same speed through the water, and the same speed after the water.  Then we bounce back into the canter and head over the last and towards the finish line.  Clear.

I am all ready to just pack up and go home, but Sabina forces me to see the results.  What?!  We are 6th!!!  And the girl that was equal with us has pipped us at the post.  We're on the same score, but she is 5th because Lil and I were a bit too fast cross country.  So of course we stay for the presentations.

It's 7pm by the time we get home, and it's been a long day.  I feed the horses, and then return later to collect their buckets.  Lil comes up to me, and pushes her head gently towards me.  I rub her lovingly on the forehead, between the eyes, between the ears.  I think I'm not the only one who enjoyed the day.

As soon as I have a moment spare I'm on the blower to my instructor "I think you need to re-grade Lil to Level 4.  How soon can you come over?"

Experience is everything (Cranbourne South Showjumping Day)

Dingo the pocket rocket in AM7

The last time I took Dingo and Lil to a competition, it ended in Lil kicking the float, followed by an expensive vet bill and a week of insanity as I attempted to look after her and work.  Unpurturbed, I attempted to take them together to another competition - that ended in Lil injuring herself before we even got going, and having 2 months off.  Since then, the two horses have travelled to different competitions separately.

That is, until now.  I feel that I have learned enough about Lil, that I was willing to take her to a competition together with Dingo.  So the main aim of going to the Cranbourne South Showjumping Day, was to have the experience of riding two horses, and to give Dingo a go at Level 4 Showjumping, before trying to get him upgraded to Level 3.

The beauty of a Showjumping competition with two horses at different levels, as opposed to a Horse Trials, is that the levels are ridden in order - so once your horse is saddled, you ride your rounds and then that horse is done.  Whereas in a Horse Trials you have the whole complexity of this horse is doing dressage, while that horse needs to be saddle up for showjumping, this level is running late, etc.

I am proud to say, that we were the first competitor to arrive at pretty much exactly the correct time in accordance with my schedule.  A 4:30am wake-up, two horses, and my eight year old daughter - not a trivial feat.  Upon my arrival, and to my great relief, I sighted yards.  Yards with 3 sides - perfect.  The horses will have all the experience of being tied up, without being tied up to the float.  Lil might kick the yard, but at least she won't kick the float.

Having secured prime position, I got Lil ready, while my daughter diligently prepared Dingo.  My daughter came along as strapper, but she only strapps Dingo.

In my mind the ultimate test of horse and rider is Horse Trials, and the cross country jumps certainly require respect.  So a Showjumping competition is really just another training opportunity.  Nevertheless, I was nervous.

There were three rounds - Take Your Own Line (TYOL), AM7 and Table C.  I found TYOL a lot more of a challenge than I thought.  As you walk the course, you spend half your time thinking about what line to take, and the other half, trying to remember the line you chose.  And in the end, I lost my way.  I still did the entire course, and it was a great round, but it would have been faster if I had remembered my original line.

In AM7, Lil did a wonderful job going clear (of course), and then I stuffed up in the jump off.  Luckily, I never crossed my tracks, and was able to complete it, but, again, we lost time.

Lil over the last one in AM7

Finally, Table C.  By this time, the nerves had settled, and I had a good feel of how Lil was travelling.  In addition, I think the "ride for a short time, then put her away" routine really agreed with Lil.  We had a really nice round, although Lil did drop a rail - most likely out of laziness.

Then it was Dingo's turn.  The change over from Lil to Dingo wasn't rushed, but we certainly had no time to play with, and my strapper, little though she is, was priceless.  With Dingo, my biggest concern was that he has just come back from a holiday, and we haven't done much jumping at the required height.  I needn't have worried.

This time, in TYOL, I remembered my line, and the little pony flew around without a single second look, and he never rattled a rail.  In AM7, we got a clear round, and a clear jump off.  No mistakes there.  And he flew around the Table C course - a little too fast perhaps, which means I had to fight for control, and it probably cost us time.

In the end, the scores looked like this:
Lil:
TYOL - 7th
AM7 - 7th
Table C - 3rd

Dingo:
TYOL - 6th
AM7 - 11th
Table C - 5th

A lot can be said about the placings Lil could have got had I not made the errors.  Experience is everything.

We walked away with three ribbons, a daughter who had a great day (and took over 100 photos!!!), and two horses who arrived home safe and sound.  Success!!!

A happy strappy!

Dingo back in work

Dingo has been enjoying a well earned rest for the last 6 weeks - I think it was supposed to be 4 weeks, but, well, it appears that time flies.  He came back into work with a reasonably easy going dressage session.

I have learnt so much in the last six weeks.  I have been trying it all out on Lil, of course, but I was just dying to try it out on Dingo.  To feel what the difference was.  To feel how he would respond.

He responded really well, and some of the learnings certainly apply much more to Dingo than to Lil.  I have also realised - he is much much harder to ride than Lil.  Or rather, he is much harder to ride well; to ride in a way that will score you high marks in a competition.  Timing, balance and precision is everything with this little pony.  All while staying totally calm and relaxed of course!

Lil's lesson with Ron

Windsor Farm organised Ron Patterson to come out for a couple of days, and I grabbed the opportunity to have a Dressage lesson on Lil.

I walked into the arena, and from the time that he shook my hand I knew we were going to get on like a house on fire.

There were a few things that stood out about Ron.  Firstly, he was prepared.  All sorts of poles and blocks were lying on the ground, setting out a multitude of different exercises.  Secondly, he explained the training scale he works with - not in so much detail that you start yawning - and pointed out where on that scale we were.  Finally, he made it clear what the rider's body needs to do.

What I really liked is the exercises.  We were never on the track.  We were never on a 20m circle at A, we were never doing a serpentine, or a change across the long diagonal.  It made me realise just how boring and limited my daily training is!

He had us doing straight lines, and gentle curves, he had as circling around a pole, and between poles, he had us changing rein from one pole to the next, or from one block to the next.  It kept our minds very active.

Ron had a great focus on the rider's position.  He was mindful that you were able to move bits of your body independently.  He wanted you to be as skillful on the left as you were on the right.  And, best of all, when your horse wasn't travelling well, he would ask you to shift your body in some way, and all of a sudden, presto, there was a lot more fluidity in your horse's movement.

He was the first Dressage instructor to tell me to lean forward - and this was probably my favourite "take away" from the lesson.  At the time, Lil was trotting very slowly.  I was pushing with the leg, but it felt like getting blood from a stone.  Then Ron said "lean forward".  Catiously, I leant forward a hair.  "Lean forward", called Ron.  I leant forward another little bit.  "Really lean forward", called Ron.  Ok, I leant forward, pretty much going into forward seat.  Lil surged forward with alactrity.  "See, you'd got behind the horse, and you felt very heavy to her.  Now you're over her centre of gravity, and she can go forward again.  Good", commented Ron.  Wow.  "Ah-ha" moment.  It's not so much about getting your shoulders forward, but getting your seat forward in the saddle.  Ron calls it "sitting on the edge of your seat".  Nice.

I just loved the lesson, and felt very happy with my horse's progress, I felt I had learnt a lot, and best of all, I felt I could go home and I knew what to practice.  I can't wait for Ron to come back again.

Friends of Melton Horse Trials

Lil ambling cautiously through the water jump

Having enjoyed this event on Dingo last year, I decided to enter Lil in it this year.  Level 5.  The schedule arrived in the mail - I was first - on at 8am!!!  What am I doing on at 8am?  Why couldn't they put some other, more local rider, on at 8am.  Don't they realise it's a 2 hour drive?  Then I remembered - my entry would have been the very very last to arrive, in one of those express post envelopes.  So that's the system - last entry, first to go.  Great!

Then I remembered the quality of the grounds - clay surface.  Going first will mean that the ground is less slippery.  For Lil, that's a serious advantage.  Thank you God!

Well, I wasn't saying exactly that as I was getting up at 3am in the morning!  I left home in the dark, had a wonderfully uneventful journey, the road to myself, and arrived still in the dark (although you could just see a smigin of dawn on the horizon).  And parked right opposite my friends.

By 7:30am I was on Lil, gently circling at gear check.  Then another lady arrived on her horse.  We looked at the sign that said "gear check".  We exchanged a few kind words, something about "wonder when the gear checkers get here", and continued to circle daintily.  Then another lady arrived, looked at the sign, looked at us, and unscrupulously called out "GEAR CHECK PLEASE!".

I was majorly disappointed with my dressage.  All this beautiful trot that we've been practicing at home just wasn't there.  Lil wasn't settled at all, she was eyeing off the edge of the arena, as well as the water jump behind the judge's car, and bulging towards the float.  And at the end of it all she had the cheek to tell me how unhappy she was about the whole affair.  Luckily, she had a couple of hours to sit in a yard and think about it.

Going first in dressage also meant I was the first to go in cross country.  What I didn't realise was that I was the very fist - out of all the levels - to be going cross country.  This means that all eyes were going to be on me to see how it's riding.  That's kind of cool.

The start of the cross country was late, which means we were there, circling aimlessly for ... well ... a long time.  Lil had kittens about 3 times - one of these being over some arena fencing falling off the back of a truck, where she was ready to gallop back to her yard.  When I didn't allow that option, she seriously considered dumping me.  Horses.

I braved all of her behaviour as best as I could, and in the end I actually had a horse that was travelling actively between leg and hand - just the way my instructors told me to aim for.  So, while the cross country start was late, it actually worked in my favour.

Finally, off we went.  Lil jumped the first jump as though she was doing a three star course, then bulked at the second.  It took some persuasion, but she went over it eventually, then travelled beautifully until we got to the water.  I slowed her down to a walk, but she really would have preferred a considerably longer look.  Then we got our groove, and she bounded along happily.  With three jumps to go I checked my watch.  We were over time, and I allowed her to press on at the fast canter.  We finished with 20 jumping penalties - which must have been the refusal at jump 2.

Due to the late start of the cross country, it was straight back to gear check and straight into the showjumping ring.  Lil thought that really it was time for the yard, and brief thoughts of parting company with me entered her mind.  Emphasis on "brief".  It was in the showjumping ring that Lil suddenly showed her forte.  Instructors often tell you of lengthening and shortening, of basculing, and doing the perfect turn.  Lil did it all like magic.  It flowed, and she flew, and she did the perfect clear round.

Lil went back into her yard and nuzzled her new found friends.  I grabbed a coffee and a muffin and went to talk to my friends.  We hung around long enough to see the results posted on the board.  I looked at the bottom of the list, which is where I expected to see myself, but I wasn't there.  Damn it!  They've somehow lost me off the list.  Perhaps I got eliminated at jump 2?  Then it dawned on me to look a bit further up the list - we came 8th!  I was stoked!

We packed up and headed home - getting there at dusk.  I was greeted by my husband and my daughter who brought me warmed up food to the shed, where I was unloading my horse.

The Cheeky Pony

Remember my entry about the "Good Horse"?  Well now, for contrast we have the "Cheeky Pony".

I put Bess and Dingo out onto the driveway.  The driveway has the front gate, which gives access from the road onto our property, and the garden gate, which allows access to the garden around the house.

Normally I don't shut either gate, and I generally don't have a problem with horses wandering off the property, although they do wander into the garden where the grass is even sweeter.  However, recently, Dingo has been sneaking into the garden at a gallop, so I closed the garden gate.

When I walked back out to check on them, I saw Bess grazing on the driveway, very close to the front gate, and lo and behold, Dingo was standing on alert out the front of the property.  Yes - on the shoulder of the road.  (It's a very quiet, no through road.)

So, keeping calm, and trying to amble, rather than walk purposefully, headstall in hand, I made my way towards the two horses.  Dingo saw me coming, perhaps Bess did too, although she kept munching the grass without interruption.

Dingo knew he shouldn't be out there.  He pricked his ears and trotted back to Bess.  "Oh, phew!", I thought.  "Good pony."  But, cheekiness was written all over his face "quick she's coming, we've got to go now" he said to Bess, took two bites of grass, and headed back out of the gate.

Bess took another two munches of grass, pricked her ears, and slowly, but surely followed Dingo.  Dingo, feeling confident now that he had "a following", trotted with alacrity towards the sunset.  My heart sunk.  The cheeky pony!  Not only does he have the cheek to run out the front gate, but he's got accomplices!  Well, an accomplice.

By now, my friendly amble had changed to a very purposeful march, and my hand had tightened around that headstall.  Luckily, Bess took a few steps, then put her head down to munch the grass.  I put the headstall around her, gave Dingo one disgusted look, and walked Bess back onto our land.

Dingo, judging that the game was over, trotted back, following Bess through the gate.  Needless to say, the gate was then shut.

Update on Princess Lil

On Saturday I hopped on Lil to do some Dressage training, and she had so much forward that I considered whether I should feed her less.  It was a good kind of forward, but you don't want it to go too far especially when you train in a seven acre paddock.

She felt lovely and strong through the back, and we were actually able to canter within a 20m x 60m arena.

With some apprehension, I fed her her normal fare that afternoon.

On Sunday, she felt like a flat balloon.  That forward?  It was all gone.  Her back still felt strong-ish, although she did trip a couple of times.

So I think I might try feeding her more.  On the up side, I think her back is getting stronger, so the type of training I am doing is working.

Elastic Contact

In the recent months, as a result of a few dressage lessons, I have discovered what I would call "elastic contact".

It's a bit like a "push-me-pull-you" game that your horse's mouth plays with your hands.  Notice the wording here.  It's not "your hands play with your horse's mouth".  It's "your horse's mouth plays with your hands".  Because that's the truth of it, that while the contact on the reins is initiated by your hands, the game is activated by your horse.  More about that in a minute.

It feels like your reins have suddenly got a section of elastic band in them, and they stretch and compress as your horse ambles happily along.  You can't use this contact for balancing though - it would be like trying to balance using a rubber band - it will just stretch.  But, you can "play" a bit with this contact, driving more horse into it, or stretching it back towards you to slow down.

It feels like the ultimate connection with your horse.  Initially it can be fairly heavy handed, like an old rusted spring, but as you get better at it, and your horse trusts you more, it should become lighter and softer.

Have I sold you on the concept yet?

Now, back to initiating this "game" with your horse.  Like I said - you, the rider, initiates it by picking up the reins and creating a contact.  Your horse then chooses to either brace against you, back off the bit, or to play the game.  Naturally, you want the latter.

Dingo braces against you (and generally races off into the sunset).  Lilly tends to back off.

The trick with Dingo, is to obtain a contact without allowing him to brace, and then to ask for another 4 millimetres of contact, and then release about 2 millimetres of contact, all the while holding perfect balance with your body, and keeping a really quiet leg.  Phew!  Yes, not a small achievement.

The trick with Lilly is to send her for a solid fast canter up the hill, with lots of half halts, good or bad, doesn't matter.  Then walk back down the hill to the arena, and ask for trot.  Presto.  Elastic contact every time.  Just like magic - as long as you can handle the fast canter.

The Good Horse

Often we allow the horses to graze on the driveway.  The grass is longer and "cleaner" there.  Usually we leave two horses in the paddock, and allow two to graze the driveway.  When they graze in the driveway they also have access to the hay shed, and to the machinery shed, where I make up their feed.  The machinery shed has doors so they can't wander in there uninvited - as long as someone has closed the doors.

The other day, Bess and Lil were grazing the driveway, and I went into the shed to make up their feeds.  Within seconds I could hear impatient hoof beats on the gravel outside the shed.  I poked my nose outside, and sure enough, there was Bess standing in the gravel, right outside the machinery shed.  But where was the "ever hungry" Lil?

Well there she was, standing in the yard (which was open), in the exact spot where I normally feed her.  Not pawing, not shaking her head, not walking impatiently around, but standing stock still waiting for her food to come.

Now, that is a good horse!

Cross Country lesson at Windsor Park

Recently I took Dingo to a cross country lesson with Ebony Tucker at Windsor Park.

It's a wonderful day, slightly overcast, with a cool-ish breeze.  Perfect for cross country schooling.  We head out to the back paddock where the cross country course is, and I start an extensive monologue on where we are at, how we got there, where we are heading.

The first thing I notice about Ebony is that she listens.  She is genuinely interested in what I think my problems are, and she takes my goals seriously.  Then she gets me to do some trot and canter to warm up.  Before I have the chance to complete one circle Ebony has linked what I said, with what is happening on the ground, and pulls me up.

"Ok, he tends to rush.  Every time he rushes off like that, I want you to make a downward transition of some sort", she instructs.  I go off in trot on my circle again, keeping what she said in mind.  "Ok, he rushed off there, make a transition!", calls out Ebony.  Ooops.  I suddenly realise that I am quite unaware when my pony rushes off.  I only notice it when he has rushed off for perhaps the fourth time in a row, and suddenly we're in canter.  Big "Aha" moment.

So we work on not allowing Dingo to rush off, and lo and behold, in about five minutes, we have him working beautifully on a nice relaxed contact and an even tempo.

We do this in both trot and canter, then ask the pony to go over a tiny log.  The rushing returns with a vengence.  We work with half halts in the approach to the log and succeed in the jump becoming nice and relaxed.  Then we move onto a bigger jump - like a picnic table made out of logs.  You guessed it, more rushing.

Here, Ebony takes a stance about two strides away from the jump, and says "I want you to approach in trot, then stop here."  The first try is a total failure.  We stop right at the jump!  This is so not what I wanted.  Ebony remains calm.  "Don't let him turn away.  Just stand there.  Back him up.  Now trot on and jump it."  Gulp.  I follow the instructions, and Dingo jumps.  Phew!  We do this a few times, a fair few times, and it becomes quite good, although not perfect.

Then we move onto water, banks, other logs, you name it.  At every jump Ebony stresses the importance of Dingo not rushing.  She gets me to do things at walk, then at trot, then at canter.  She stresses the importance of me not getting ahead, not getting anxious.  As we do the exercises, my confidence grows, I relax, Dingo slows down, it all starts to flow.  Dingo becomes a totally maneuverable pony, and I am having an absolute ball.  Oh this is what it should feel like!

I depart a very happy camper, and can't wait to come back again.  I guess spending money on rugs and other sundry items will just have to wait!

In The Judge's Seat

Recently my club held a Dressage competition.  I didn't take part in the competition so I offered to do some pencilling for a Dressage judge.  I did it out of pure desire to help and volunteer, because I don't get to volunteer much on other occasions.  I learnt far more than I had bargained for.

The judge I was pencilling for was judging grade 4 HRCAV - my own level.  I didn't get to see much of the dressage tests.  I found I really didn't need to see much to understand the comments.  Keeping up with the writing wasn't too bad, and I got better at the shorthand towards the end.  We were judging for supposedly 4 hours.  When I first heard this I groaned - at home, where no one could hear.  But the time just flew!

We were given a delicious morning tea, and a top up of coffee.  And as a additional bonus, the judge I was pencilling for was very funny. 

Here are the most important lessons I've learnt.

The Dressage Judge is not out to get you.  Really?!  OMG, I thought she was.  Most of the time when your pony is misbehaving she is there barracking for you!

The Dressage Judge knows about horses.  No way?  Who would have thought?  She knows that they are flighty animals, and that sometimes you are doing a sensational job just executing the movements.  She just wishes you would take a breath and relax.  Because then the horse will travel better.

Consistency.  Most of us lack consistency.  We need to be there, balancing our horse between hand and leg every single stride, for the entire duration of the test.  Do I need to repeat that in capitals?  Medium walk is not an opportunity to have a rest.  And the horse needs more balancing in the corners.

Forward.  The horse must be going forward - but not on the forehand.  It cannot feel like it's about to fall out of the canter back into trot.  It cannot feel like it would rather walk than trot.  The rider must create forward.  Even at the walk.  Even at the long rein walk.

Precision.  Your test must be precise.  So if it says transition from canter to trot between B and M that means somewhere about 6m after B, but before M.  It does not mean you can fall out of the canter at B.

Readiness.  If your horse is clearly not ready to compete, due to lack of experience, then think carefully whether you need to bother the judge with your horse seriously going sideways down the centerline and doing unscripted pirouttes.  It is very difficult to judge (and pencil for) such a test.  Wouldn't it be better for you, for the horse, and for your wallet to come to the competition, warm up, and ride quietly in the arena during breaks?  Without actually taking part of the competition?

And finally - do some pencilling.  You'll actually start understanding what the judge was really talking about in all those comments on your last test.

Dream Team wrap up

Last year I joined the Dream Team in a bid to take me to new heights (literrally) in my horse riding journey.  Participating in the Dream Team meant that I had far less time to update my blog, but, it was worth it.

For starters, I can honestly say that I have never felt so disorganised, and so organised at the same time.  You see, you "organise" your own success.  That's right.  Generally, I am a pretty organised sort of person.  To fully participate in the Dream Team journey, I had to learn how the people at the top of my game organise themselves.  Not only that, I had to model them - adopt their way of getting organised towards success.

Planning success was only part of it though.  I had to re-define success - or perhaps, "define" success.  Yes, that's right.  What does success really mean?  I had to define my goals.  I had to strip myself of all my excuses - yes, all of them, even the ones that seem genuine - and really understand where I was going, and what it would take to get there.  How much time it would take to get there?  How much money?

The Dream Team course also forced us to face our fears.  Isn't that a dark area where no one really wants to go?  Then the course gave us tools to deal with our fears.  To help us do what we feared to do the most.  It showed us how to break down our fear, and deal with it one step at a time.

To say that the Dream Team is a one year course is a total misconception.  It introduces you to a whole new paradigm of how to live your life.  It doesn't just apply to your horse riding.  It applies to your entire life.  Horse riding is just one aspect of it, as is your work, your relationships, your chores, and your fun time.  And should you choose to live the paradigm, you're in the Dream Team forever.

So, ok, I have obviously enjoyed the course, and got a lot out of it.  But what are the tangible improvements?  Has it taken me to new heights?  Well, to put it bluntly, YES!!!  At the beginning of last year, Dingo was graded level 5 in jumping, and I was warming-up over tiny cross rails, and sporting the look of fear as I jumped 45cm at the end of my session.  Since then, Dingo has done three horse trials - and that is a success in itself - and he has been re-graded to level 4.  I now warm up over 45cm straights, and by the end of the session we are clearing 80cm (which means we are ready to be re-graded to level 3).  Dingo is about to do his first Introductory event, and I am already looking forward to seeing him compete at Preliminary level (hopefully next year) - even though some of those jumps currently look huge to me.

I guess the sceptics would ask the question - but wouldn't you have got there anyway?  Well here is my answer ... remember that look of fear when jumping 45cm?  I had been graded level 4 in jumping for over 10 years!!!  For a while I had regular showjumping lessons with a proper showjumping coach.  Physically, my horse could easily do level 3 and level 2 jumps.  Physically, I had the skill to do level 3 and level 2 jumps.  It was my mindset that was letting me down, and the Dream Team gave me the tools to fix that.

Dingo clearing the last fence at Yarrambat PC Horse Trials, while I am sporting a smile on my face.