XC Review: Dunolly Horse Trials

The Dunolly Horse Activity Club cross country course is flat, and Dunolly makes no apologies about this. And neither should it.

In this case I did Grade 4 - twice. First on my pony, then on my mare. The height of the jumps was very good, with a few slightly smaller ones, and plenty of jumps at maximum height.

I would rate the complexity as average for a Grade 4 course. Most of the jumps ask the horse to be bold. But there are very few technical challenges. So this course really allows you and your horse to gallop along, and assess every fence on its own merits. The variety of fences is also fantastic - probably the only things that were missing is a ditch and a brush.

The course rode really well. With the flatness, and simplicity, the only thing you need to worry about is that your horse is travelling well, and that you are providing enough drive so that the horse jumps when required. If your horse is reasonably bold, then this could make for a great first outing. If your horse is more experienced, then this course is a great run. If you have just moved up from Grade 5 and are a bit tentative, then this might prove a bit challenging. For my 9 year old daughter - this would be a nice third cross country at Grade 5.

The Cross Country course in detail

Jump 1 is a ski ramp with a roof and the option of adding logs for higher grades.  I wouldn't call this the most inviting first jump, especially since logs are added in front of the jump, creating a gap.  The jump is also a bit to the right of the starting gates - which means you need to veer towards the floats to get a good line. However, my horses didn't have an issue with the roof or the gap, and it rode really well.

Jump 2 is white shark teeth on a reddish background.  This was in a straight line from jump 1, but both of my horses took a bit of a look at it.  My pony actually had a run-out here - but I was also having control issues.

Then a sweeping right turn to jump 3 - the bow tie.  Rides really well.  Into the trees, and a sharp right turn to jump 4 - the seat.  This comes up a bit suddenly and is a bit narrow, but if you slow down on the turn, then it rides well.

Through the compulsory flags, and left to jump 5 - the log pile.  This is a bit hidden in the trees, and comes up quickly.  I actually missed the turn on my pony, and ended up doing the grade 3 jump by accident.

Jump 5 lines you up beautifully for 6A and 6B (logs).  You have about 6 or 7 strides from jump 5 to 6A, then about 3 strides to 6B.  So this rides really well, the jumps are simple, although 6B is a little bit narrow, and if you slack off, you will get a run-out.

Jump 7 is a stack of rocks.  Then you turn for home, go past the bank, switch back to the right and pop onto the bank (8A) one stride, then down the bank (8B).  Then switch back to the left, over the tyres (jump 9) and over jump 10 - the trakener with water in the ditch.  This jump worried me a lot, but the tyres lined you up perfectly, and neither of my horses even blinked an eyelid at it.  The tyres were a portable jump.

Jump 11 is a mound of dirt covered by a blue tarp with silos on either side.  The silos prevent a run-out, but the blue tarp causes some consternation for the less brave horses.  My pony didn't bat an eyelid, but my mare did a massive leap over it.

Jump 12 is the water.  A small drop in, the water is not deep, the footing is great, then a ramp out.  If you've done your homework, then this should be a breeze.

Jump 13 are dog bones - a white and red jump.  If this was a normal bush log, then it would be easy.  But the colours certainly cause some horses to eye it off with suspicion.

Jump 14 is the gold mine - a wooden trough with rocks in it, some of them gold rocks.  On a very sunny day, with sun glare on the gold rocks this could be quite a dazzling jump.  However, it is very wide as it extends to higher and lower grades on either side so a run-out is unlikely.  At this stage you are heading straight for home, so most horses should decide that going over is just the easiest option.

Jump 15 is the "Welcome Stranger" - a log with a massive gold nugget underneath, set amongst eucalypt branches.  There is something about this jump that makes the horses have second thoughts, so don't take it for granted.

Dingo's Cross Country at Dunolly Horse Trials

(This is a description of Dingo's Cross Country round at Dunolly Horse Trials).

I ride Dingo into the cross country warm-up and realise that I've got the wrong reins attached to his bridle.  I've got the dressage reins, which are all smooth leather.  I was intending to swap them for the webbed reins with the little regular stoppers - too late now.

The warm-up goes well and he is travelling very nicely between leg and hand, and being quite responsive to the bit.  The warm-up jumps also go well, and I even do one of the bigger logs.

We face the course, the starter counts us down, and we're off.  Dingo travels nicely to the first jump, and has no issues with the slightly tricky ramp under an arch.  But as we land, the reins slip through my fingers and I suddenly regret my rein blunder.  The breeze hits my face, my eyes water, my glasses slip down my nose as Dingo travels a lot more on the forehand than anything he did in the warm-up.  I can barely see, when we have a run out at number two.  We get over it easily on the second attempt, and I grip the reins tightly into the next jump.

Jumps three and four go well, but after four I again grapple for control, as Dingo leans on the bit and the reins just slip through my fingers.  I see the jumps judge for jump 5, and wonder why they are sitting with their back to the jump.  I get through the compulsory flags and look for my line.

(What happens in reality is that we are travelling so fast, that I totally miss the line for the level 4 jump.  I in fact take the line for the level 2 jump, get put off by the height, and end up jumping the level 3 jump.  But I have no idea about this, until I ride the course again on Lil.)

I see a jump up ahead, it's got number 5 on it, but it looks way too big for me.  So I look to the left.  There is also a jump with a number 5 on it, so I aim for that one.  The colour of the number does not register at all.  What does register is that we are now on the path for the grade 3 jumps.  I have 7 fast strides, and very little rein control to correct our line, and do level 4 6A and 6B.  And I am left a bit bewildered that when we walked the course, jumps 5 and 6 seemed to line up so well, yet when riding it, they were all out of whack.  So weird.

But I have no time to give it another thought, as the reins slide through my fingers, Dingo hangs his head an inch above the ground (is he looking for gold?) and we gallop on towards number 7.  I manage to shorten my reins, steady him and we're over.  And I'm out of control again.

I try to slow him to a trot coming into the bank, but the minute he sees the obstacle he is all go and action.  This pony just has no respect that his rider may want to go a little bit slower - just for the fun of it!  After the bank, and drop, I actually pull him up.  Up until now I've kind of been able to clamp my fingers onto the rein and retain some semblance of something.  But now it's all starting to fall apart.

I take a breather, then kick him on again.  Over the tyres, then drive over the trakener.  He doesn't even blink an eyelid, doesn't flick an ear.  On the other side, however, he is so strong, that I actually do a circle to regain control.  As long as I am not about to present to a jump, this is totally within the rules.

He clears the tarp mound (jump 11).  I slow down to trot before the water and he boldly jumps in, wondering why in the world I would have wanted to slow him down.  Then over the dog bones (jump 13) and the gold mine (jump 14).  I grip the reins so hard my fingers are numb.  I still have very little control.  Perhaps I even don't have any control.  Who knows.  He takes a glance at the "Welcome Stranger" (jump 15), but one kick and he is over it, and across the finish line.

The second we cross that finish line I start looping back in a big arc.  It's my only hope to stop.  My fingers and my hands are totally numb.  My shoulders are aching.  I'll have the best triceps after this.

Finally, we come to the walk.  The funny line at number 5 is long forgotten, and the only thing I can think about is what can I do to make my hands work again so I can ride Lil.

When I ride the course on Lil, and take the correct line for jump number 5, I realise that that is not the jump I did on Dingo.  As I continue to ride the course on Lil I am so focused on riding her that I don't give it another thought.  It is only when I finish the course on Lil that I suddenly think "if I didn't do the level 4 jump on Dingo, then I must have done the level 3 jump", and then "if I did the level 3 jump on Dingo, then Dingo has been eliminated".

Cross Country Post Mortem

I believe that everything happens for a reason.  I forgot to change my reins - for a reason.  I jumped that grade 3 jump - for a reason.  That grade 3 jump felt easy - for a reason.  And later, in the showjumping, the grade 4 jumps were hard, and Dingo was stopping, and I fell off - for a reason.  It's in correctly understanding the reasons that we either make it, or break it for ourselves in the future.  The elimination is immaterial.

So what's my take?

Remember to change your reins before cross country.  And if you happen to have the wrong reins, then put a set of knots in them.

The wrong reins, forced me to ride Dingo on a much longer contact.  At the time it felt scary because with every stride the reins grew longer and longer.  But later I realised that this longer contact had no bearing whatsoever on his jumping.  He jumped a grade 3 jump on that longer contact.  What had a bearing on his jumping was how much leg I was using.  The longer contact, also allowed him to use his back better - it's exactly what I've been trying to get him to do!

We jumped a grade 3 jump.  We jumped it because I was using my leg, and allowing Dingo to have a longer contact.  We jumped it because I was allowing him to travel.  Perhaps it was faster than what I wanted, but it is what suited him.  Perhaps there is a balance between the two?

I fell off in the showjumping, over a course that should have been easy for Dingo.  If it was on grass it would have been easy.  But it was in deep sand.  And I should have not worried about the reins at all, just ridden it totally from the leg.  In that deep sand, he was travelling exactly as he should be.  I just need to add leg.

And so it all comes back to the same thing - less rein, more leg, more trust.  Put that into my training with Dingo, and see where we come out at the end.  Find a huge, flat paddock and go galloping on a loose rein - see what happens.  Ride in a headstall (have the bridle on just in case), and see what happens.  Play.

Dunolly Horse Trials 2014

Dunolly is a small town in the middle of the Victorian Gold Fields.  We first heard about it on Macca's (Ian Macnamara) set of CD's in a song "I'm the last man from Dunolly" about a soldier returning from the war - the only soldier from the Dunolly area to be returning.  When I noticed the Dunolly Horse Trials on the eventing calendar, we didn't need any further prodding to make the 4 hour trip.

My husband, my daughter and I arrive on late Friday afternoon, and setup camp.  By the time I get the stove out, its dark, and my husband makes some noises that sound like "pub" and "beer".  We eat our camp meal, and then drive into Dunolly.  On the way, we listen to "the song" that brought us here, then spend a somber moment at the war memorial.

We waltz merrily into the cheerful pub, and strip off our winter woolies as the warmth of the open fire hits us.  We sit at the bar drinking our beer and fairy drinks; we glance around at the locals.  There are three people next to me, and one of them pulls out a gold nugget about the size of a 50c coin.  He shares its story with his friends while we stare shamelessly.  He found it on his property with a metal detector.  Had to dig for it.  But he thinks there's more further down.  His eyes sparkle with a strange kind of excitement ... gold fever.

Our shameless staring is hard to ignore, and he eventually turns to us and lets us hold the nugget.  My daughter is spellbound as history unrolls itself right in front of her eyes.  We pulled her out of school early today to come here - I think it's just paid dividends.

The freezing night air hits us as we leave the pub.  The sleeping bags in our tent are nice and warm, and we get a good night's sleep.

The morning is overcast but mild, and I have a thousand chores to do around the horses, as well as plaiting up and getting them ready for dressage.  My husband and daughter can afford to take it a bit more easy, and they pedal off on their bicycles to Dunolly.

I manage to get the plaiting done just in time, using up the very last bit of the black thread on Lil's mane.  Dingo's warm up goes brilliantly.  He is very relaxed and very happy, and produces a test to match which places him 7th.  Lil on the other hand, is the total opposite.  She is stepping under really well, but she is tense.  She can see the cross country course, and she is far too excited to be paying attention.  Nevertheless, the dressage is not bad and she ends up 14th.

We walk the cross country course - this is a newly built cross country course, with this competition being the official cross country course opening weekend.  The course is beautiful - and I have added a full review of it to my cross country review series.  All I will say is that I expect jump 10 - a trakener with water in the ditch - to be the show stopper.  It certainly has me shaking in my boots every time I think about it.

We do another trip to the pub, and then attend the dinner hosted by the Dunolly Horse Activity Club.  The food is fabulous, the atmosphere is warm, and the people are lovely.

There is a bit of wind during the night.  It makes funny sounds, and wakes me up.  Every time I wake up I go over the cross country course in my mind, getting a serious adrenaline rush at number 10.  It's amazing that I go back to sleep.

In the morning, my husband is off to Ballarat for a bike ride with his mates.  And then the comedy of errors begins.  I get both horses ready, and ride off on Dingo into the Cross Country warm-up.  I realise that I still have my dressage reins on Dingo's bridle - oh well, too late to change now.  I am barely in trot, when I see a wild bay horse galloping loose up the home straight.  I gaze at my float - Lil is no longer tied up.  Ooops.  I ride up to the edge of the bunting, and call out to her.  The galloping horse comes to a standstill opposite Dingo.  My daughter walks up, but she is not old enough to handle Lil - let alone an excited Lil.  So we wait for an adult to walk up and ask for assistance.  The lady assures me she will find a secure yard for Lil.

Dingo's warm up goes extremely well.  He is light in the hand, and responsive to the bit.  I might just be able to get away with these reins after all.  We start off on Cross Country and everything changes.  The reins immediately run through my fingers, and I lose most of my control.  The ride is so eventful that it deserves a separate post.  We have a run out at jump 2, but otherwise go clear.  The pony doesn't even blink at jump number 10!

Then it's Lil's turn.  We have a very short time to warm-up, which suits me fine.  She knows what she needs to do, she's already had her warm-up gallop (ha ha ha!), and the sooner she gets going, the sooner she can get back to Dingo.  We go clear over the first, and then establish who is going to do what as we approach jump 2.  She gives it a quick second look, and from then on we're very clear.  I'll just sit and ride, and she will gallop and jump.  We get a good rhythm, she works well into the hand, and I just give a bit of encouragement before each jump.  She swallows up the Cross Country course.  I never doubt anything.  The trakener is a piece of cake.  At the water I slow her down to a walk.  She takes a look, then pops in.  Out of the water and we re-establish our rhythm.  I watch the finish gates glide past us and then I punch my fist into the air.  Yes!  Yes!  and YES!!!  What an absolutely fantastic, awesome, unbelievable run!

I jump off and my daughter runs in and shares in the joy.  I smile at her, and share a little home truth.  "Lil's gone clear, but I've just realised that Dingo has been eliminated."  She stares.  "I did the wrong jump on Dingo - I did a grade 3 jump and I didn't even notice at the time.  I've just realised now.  But never mind.  It's just another learning lesson."

Lil knows she's done the required job, and she now just wants to get back to Dingo.  The vet comes over and she throws her head to the side in protest, hitting the vet.  It hurts.  We are asked to walk away, settle the horse, and come back in about 5 to 10 minutes.  I sober up somewhat.  "You know what", I say to my daughter "Lil might also get eliminated."  "Why?", she stares in disbelief.  "Well, she did run out on Cross Country course, she could get eliminated for that, and now she hit the vet so she might get eliminated for bad behaviour."  "Can they do that?", she asks.  I grow serious.  "I presume they can.  Horses should be well behaved."  The next time the vet approaches we make sure that Lil is on her best behaviour.  This time we pass.

I change Dingo's reins and warm him up for showjumping.  From the first jump I know that something is wrong.  The pony is travelling in a totally different way than normal, and if I was a better, more experienced rider, I would be able to change my riding style to match.  But I don't have that experience, yet.  All I can do is sit and wonder - something is very different.  It's the footing.  The sand in the jumping arena is very deep.  Perhaps too deep.  Dingo doesn't cope.  I manage to ride it out until he sees jump 6 - the double.  It's too much, he stops and I fall off.  He is now double eliminated.  It's kind of funny, but I just hope they allow me to ride Lil.

I warm Lil up.  She is the last to go, and as our round approaches there are less and less horses in the warm-up ring.  Until there are none.  And the cold front - rainless perhaps, but with eerie dark clouds and cold wind - buffets against us.  I manage to hold it all together - just.  We ride into the ring.  Lil also struggles somewhat with the deep footing, but she copes.  However, we can't get a really good flowing rhythm.  As jump number 6 approaches, time seems to come to a standstill.  Six strides to go.  We will do this.  Five.  I apply leg.  Four.  I look at element B.  Three.  I apply leg.  Two.  I look up.  One.  We go through it.  I breathe.  After jump 9, Lil heads for the corner, and I hear a little voice from the sidelines "Forward Mama!  Forward!".  I ride forward, and we do jumps 10, and 11.  Clear!

We look after the horses, then my daughter sits me down in a chair and looks after me.  She gets me food from the food bag, and organises a drink.  No - it's not a beer.  Later we attend the presentations.  Dingo, as expected, is eliminated.  Lil comes 7th and I receive a beautiful pink ribbon.

Then it's time to pack up.  My husband returns from his bike ride an hour later than expected.  The competition also ran about an hour later than expected.  So the light is fading as we finally drive off between the slightly undulating sweeping plains where kangaroos hop without a care in the world.