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.

Lang Lang Show Fun Ring

Last year I took Sabina to a show.  I put her in with the professionals, and let her have a go.  She came back with a few ribbons, but when we got home, she commented that she was kind of hoping for more ribbons, and some different colours.  Not just white.

So this year I attacked the whole thing from a different perspective, and took her into the fun ring at the Lang Lang Show.  I kind of expected 6 other ponies in the ring, with a couple of dirty kids, and an opportunity for Sabina to "clean up".

To make sure we really had the best chance, we washed and scrubbed Tornado till he was sparkling, then wrapped him up in cotton rugs from head to toe.

Upon arrival to the show we had our first "show stopper".  The show was so packed, that we pretty much couldn't find a parking spot.  I had never envisaged this, and so we missed our first class.

Finally, with unbreakable smiles on our faces we rocked up to the fun ring.  Show stopper number two ... so much for the 6 grubby ponies.  There were about 20 immaculately turned out ponies, scrubbed squeeky clean, with manicured tails, and riders to match.  Fawn jodhpurs, long sleeved shirts, stocks, matching vests, jackets, you name it.  And, there was Sabina in her pony club uniform.

Never mind.  We held our heads high and proud and joined in the "fun".  In the end Sabina competed in 5 classes, and she got four different coloured ribbons.  After class number 5, she cracked it, as in her opinion Tornado had the longest tail but the judge seemed to fail to notice this fact.  So we called it a day.

When we got home, my husband enthusiastically asked "So, how was it?  Did you have fun?"

"No!", Sabina replied flatly.  "It was just walk and trot.  We didn't get to gallop.  It was no fun at all!"  And she stormed off towards the house.

You see, the problem was that just a mere day or two before the show she was riding Tornado in the top arena.  The seven acre haying paddock.  And he took off on her.  Full gallop, and pretty much as fast as a mini can go.  I sat there, on my horse, and just screamed at her "Look up and hold on.  And look UP!".

The next thing I heard was ecstatic giggles, as the pony finally pulled up to a stop at the gate.

"Ok, just walk him back", I instructed.

But no.  I saw a distinct kick (from Sabina), and the pony was back in full gallop, Sabina giggling all the way to the next gate.  Needless to say, this went on for some time.

Like mother, like daughter.  Eventing, here we come.

Pony Club

Today at Pony Club Sabina is being tested for her D certificate.  We've been going over the things she needs to know many times, and I am confident she will pass with flying colours.

A lady is assigned to examine Sabina, while I am assigned to examine someone else's child.  So I don't get the opportunity to see how the test is going.

When the test is over, Sabina's examiner secretly gives me the thumbs up, and says she did really well.  But, the real proof is in the pudding.

Up until now, mainly I've been saddling the ponies for Sabina.  This afternoon, we need to get Tornado saddled for another ride.  Sabina shows me the palm of her hand, and says "Mama, go away.  I will do it".  (Talk about "speak to the hand").

Sure enough, she saddles and bridles Tornado, including doing the girth up ... fully!  That takes some strength!  You go girl!

Warragul PC Showjumping Day

Recently I took Sabina to the Warragul PC Showjumping Day.  She had just been graded in showjumping, so I thought the timing was perfect.

It was a lovely warm day, with a pretty early start.  The day started at 8:30, with all rings running in parallel.  The organisers did an absolutely fantastic job.

Sabina did the training F grade, where they were allowed to be led around.  As Tornado can have a bit of a mind of his own, I thought she would have far more fun if I took up the led option.  So we jogged around the course, with Tornado going faster towards the end, and me getting quite puffed out!

In the end Sabina was very happy with 6th place - especially since the ribbon colour was the same as her club colours.  They had 3 competitions in all (for each grade), which I thought was really good value.  Sabina had had enough after 2.  I was a bit disappointed, but managed to keep my smile.  Anything to make sure the little one has a "great" day!

My one comment on the day would be - can we please start after 9am!  Otherwise, it was brilliant!

Pony mum

My daughter and I went into the pony paddock today. Sabina was carrying a bowl full of chopped carrots. We entered the paddock, and the ponies, Tornado, Bel Bel and Dingo surrounded me. They kept a respectable distance of an arms length so that I wasn't crowded. And they were more than happy to be given an affectionate rub on the forhead. In the meantime, my daughter was standing about 4 metres away, with her bowl of chopped carrots, a little frown slowly forming on her forehead.

Why weren't the ponies rushing over to get a juicy carrot?

Eventually, the ponies did sneak off for a carrot, but when their mouth was full, they would come and stand next to me again.

When we were leaving the paddock, the carrot bowl now empty, Sabina asked "Why do the ponies think that you're their mum?"

June Pony Club

They say that a picture tells a thousand words.  Well, here are a few words for those that still need a caption added to the above photo.

We went to pony club.  Sabina was riding Tornado, and she had an absolute ball going over the jumps.  (She has never ever jumped before).  And ... the minature (pony) can jump.

More ponies than you can poke a stick at

Today we went to Pony Club and Sabina merrily rode into her lesson. She handled Tornado well, and even seemed to be paying attention to the instructor.

I was standing outside the arena, watching the world go by, thinking how in the world I am now going to upgrade her pony. I mean, I don't really want to go trapsing around the state, looking for the perfect pony for my daughter, preferably a palomino colour (more about that some other time). Another adult came along and I opened my big mouth.

"Well, why don't you go and talk to M. She's got a pony here for sale, that might be suitable.", was the response I got.

By the time lunchtime rolled around and all the kids were having a break, Sabina was back in the arena on the said pony. After a lot of walking, a few halts, several attempted transitions into trot, and finally the trot itself, Sabina was allowed to have some lunch, while I went to talk to M.

Later in the afternoon, the said pony was delivered (together with rug and bridle) to our property for a two week trial, with the potential to extend it to a one month trial. Perfect timing. It's school holidays at the moment, so we will be able to test ride the pony a fair bit.

Gallop

Last year, when Sabina first joined pony club, at her first pony club rally she went on a mock fox hunt. Tornado's belly got stuck on one of the jumps. On the way home, she said that she enjoyed the rally, but needed a bigger pony. Well, I promised that I would buy her a bigger pony, when she learnt to canter.

Recently, she has been having a few problems getting Tornado to go forward. Finally, when even spurs didn't seem to work, I convinced her to try my whip. Sure, it doesn't glitter, and it's not a fancy colour, but it works.

She ventured into the arena, riding Tornado, whip in hand, and put it to the test. She was cantering around in seconds. In fact she got so enthusiastic, that the canter became a gallop. The gallop elicited a magic smile, and squeals of excitement from the little girl. She even seemed oblivious to the little pigroot he managed to add at the beginning.

It might just be time for a pony upgrade.

Warragul Show

The massive toothache wakes me up at 4am. I drink some water and go back to bed. On the one hand I realise that I should get up at 5am and plait up Dingo. On the other hand, I cannot fathom how I will plait him up in the dark.

I compromise and get up at 5:30. It's dark. I pack the rest of the car. Then I get the ponies and plait up Dingo. It's just light enough. I put the ponies back in the paddock, have breakfast, then run out again with Sabina.

We're on the road. The day looks beautiful. Windstill and not a cloud in the sky. By the time we get to Warragul it's not windstill any more.

The experiences of yesterday leave Sabina more focussed, and today when I say "get dressed", she does. Yay! I saddle up Tornado, and we run over to ring 2, just in time for smartest on parade. Sabina rides into her class. Is she paying attention to the judge? Ummm ... no. She comes third (out of three), and looks at me. "Mama, I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing." I smile. "Well, you need to listen to the judge. She will tell you what to do. And if you don't understand, then you need to ask", I say patiently.

We run back to the float, where hastily, in the wind, I finish Dingo's preparation. That includes sawing the plaits into rosettes. I busy myself with the needle, while Dingo keeps getting distracted by floats and horses. Do I prick myself? Yes. And there are bits of blood running down my fingers. Lucky that Dingo is a chestnut and it doesn't show.

Once Dingo is ready we rush back to the ring. I ride into my class with Sabina running behind me. I stop and gently say "hey, why don't you go and sit down on one of those chairs?", as I point to the chair next to the penciller. Luckily, the penciller is kind. Phew! It's not like that at all shows.

Finally, I can relax though, and enjoy my class. In fact, from here on, I enjoy the rest of the day. Sabina and I even find the time to ride around the outside of all the show rings, and take in the atmosphere. On our well groomed, clean ponies, in our jackets, we cut quite a picture.

It's all worth it.

Show prep

Sometimes I think that I've got it all. Horses, float and a daughter to enjoy it all with. Shows, bush riding, pony club. But the reality is closer to this.

Today I spent the entire day getting ready to go. Packing clothes, esky and the beloved guinea pigs. By the time I pick up my daughter from school the car is ready to go. Well she (my daughter) isn't. Sheesh. Gently, I encourage her to stop playing, get changed, eat her snack, and we're finally on the road with her still asking why we have to go now.

Then, of course, we get peak hour traffic, and the 1 hour trip takes us 1.5 hours. Charming. We eat dinner - no complaints here. Then we're outside getting our ponies. "Now, Sabina, it's simple", I say. "We tie them up to the hitching rail, we wash them, we rug them, we put them away."

Do you think she follows instructions? NO! Off she goes with her pony to graze on the grass. That upsets Dingo, and the minute I turn my back he breaks free and runs over to Tornado. Now the big horses have come over to the fence to investigate. Great. Do you think I can catch Dingo? No, of course not. Off he goes, trotting up to Princess Lil.

I gaze at the front gate. "Sabina, just stay here, I really don't want him galloping out the gate". As if on cue, Princess Lil takes off towards the gate. Dingo follows on the other side of the fence ... and yes, he gallops out the gate and onto the road. Lovely. Half way up the paddock, Princess Lil changes her mind and gallops back. Dingo, lead rope dangling, gallops back at full speed. I quietly close the gate behind him, praying that he doesn't somehow catch on the lead rope and break his neck.

As I wander back to the hitching rail, I see the two ponies trotting off towards the house, and I hear Sabina crying. My first thought is that she's been run over by Dingo, but of course she's just upset that Tornado pulled away. So I decide that we need a break and I invite her to sit down in the shed. Well, she refuses to sit down because there are a couple of cob webs on the chair! Am I at the end of my tether by now or what? I stay calm. I don't feel calm. I take a few deep breaths and stay calm. By now of course, the sun is starting to set.

So, we go and get our ponies, again. This time, we successfully tie them up to the hitching rail, and at least I manage to wash mine. But Sabina is still off in la la land, doing everything, but washing. "Mama, can you wash him?", she asks. In the interest of time "yes". So we've got two washed ponies, standing in mud, it's dark outside and we need to put rugs on.
 
Luckily the float is out, so we can rug the ponies in the shed. But in the process, Dingo steps on my foot. Ouch! Anyway, finally we're done. "Mama, it's dark outside, I'm scared". "Well that's why we needed to get on with it." "Mama, I didn't realise it would get dark." Like it doesn't get dark every day? So there I am walking back to the paddock in pitch blackness, scared daughter in one hand, two scared ponies in the other.
 
With no further incidents, the ponies are back in their paddock, and Sabina is in the bath. Husband has managed to arrive too. Thank goodness for that, because I need his help to unpack the cupboards off the float. On the upside, he helps to pack the car for tomorrow.
 
By about 11pm I hit the pillow, only to realise that I have a pretty massive toothache. Not massive enough to get the panadol, though. After some time, I fall asleep.

Two ponies

Today we took Tornado and Dingo to pony club. At pony club there are rules. One of them is that adults are not allowed to ride while the kids are riding. Makes perfect sense.

So I rode Dingo as soon as we got there, then I helped Sabina saddle up. Once she was in her lesson I looked for a good excuse to make myself scarce. I hate being the mum on the sidelines, who constantly gives her daughter advice over the fence. That's the instructor's job. But when I sit there at that fence, I must admit, I just can't help myself.

Thank goodness that a friend's daughter tugged at my sleeve - can she ride Dingo? She's been having a few rides on him already, and I knew that he should be fine in the beginner's group.

So, I helped her with Dingo in the beginner's group, every now and then sneaking a peek at Sabina in her lesson. She looked like she was having a ball!

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.

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.

Friendly Game

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

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!

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.