In the Cross Country start box - "Good Luck"

Riding cross country in a horse trials event is serious business.  Even at the lower grades. The obstacles are solid with a capital S, the ground can be slippery, and the horse has a thousand things to spook at, starting with the jumps judges.  Every rider about to go out on cross country gets some level of nerves, and rightfully so.  A history of events prove that sheer luck might play an important part in a successful completion of this exciting phase.

So, when the starter counts down each competitor, his final words are "3, 2, 1, Go! Good luck!"

At this point, I always thought that there exists a certain understanding between horse and rider.  A partnership based on mutual trust, developed over months and years of training together.  You (the horse) take care of me, and I (the rider) will take care of you.  I have seen countless situations where this is so true, where the horse loses balance and a steadying rein from the rider helps the horse to recover before the next jump.  Situations where the rider loses balance on the first obstacle in a combination, and the horse completes the combination perfectly despite flapping reins and a lack of direction from the rider.

I long for that sort of partnership, that sort of understanding, that sort of trust with my horse.  But recently, I have decided that between myself and Dingo it's not necessarily so.

When that starter says "Good Luck", Dingo grows little devil ears, he rubs his little hooves together, his spirit does a little mini rear of defiance, and the pony whispers "Yeah Mummy ... Good luck, ha ha ha!" as he gallops wildly off towards the first jump with no regard for the feeling on the reins.

Well, for years I have lived in my little world of believing in trust and understanding, while Dingo was rubbing his little hooves together and zooming off on every occasion.  But, recently, I've finally wisened up.  I've realised that our partnership has to be based more on mutual boisterousness, than mutual love.  A kind of respect for each others physical strength and mental power.

So now, our starting line conversation goes something like this:
Starter: "3, 2, 1, Go!  Good luck!"
Dingo: "Yeah Mummy ... Good luck, ha ha ha!"
Me: "Yeah Dingo ... Good luck."  (Followed by a solid check on the reins.)

Westcoast ARC Horse Trials 2016

Dingo's last competition was two years ago when I got eliminated on him during the Dunolly Horse Trails cross country for jumping a grade 3 jump.  Then I got eliminated again in the showjumping when I fell off before the double.  At the time, I decided it wasn't really working and relegated Dingo to trail riding duties.

However, a sequence of events - Lil getting stringhalt, Echo getting an abscess - put Dingo back in work, and back on the critical path for another crack at horse trials.  So we ended up in Elcho Park, warming up for the dressage phase of the Westcoast ARC Horse Trials.

The judge was running late, and the dressage went to pieces.  Dingo was overbent, flicking his tongue over the bit, and freaking out at the weeds surrounding the arena.  Really Dingo?

Since the dressage judge was running late, we were running late for our showjumping round.  Already coming back from gear check Dingo felt tired.  He jumped well in the warm-up - very well in fact.  The warm-up was on grass with a sandy soil base.  The competition ring was sand.  The minute he put hoof in that sand arena, things didn't feel right - he felt out of control.  I put on the breaks.  We got two refusals at jump one, clear over two, then a refusal at jump three and that was the end of our round.

I left the showjumping ring gutted, and did a few more warm-up jumps to mull it over.  He jumped very well.  Damn that sand.

I gave Dingo a well earned rest and some lunch, and I mulled over the situation some more.  Technically I was eliminated, but could still ride the cross country if I wanted to.  Did I want to?  Should I?  My reflection process was long and boring, but in the end I decided to ride cross country.

After a quick warm-up (which was on sand, and Dingo jumped the warm-up jumps well), we were in the start box, and the starter was saying: "3, 2, 1, go!  Good luck!".  And Dingo responded "Yeah Mummy ... Good luck in trying to hold me back!  Ha ha ha!".  And I gritted my teeth with "Yeah Dingo ... Good luck in trying to get away from me!".  And we were off.  Dingo was off.  Holding him back was tricky ... almost impossible.

Jump three was out of control and we were barrelling through the middle of the course when I caught sight of jump four on my left.  We doubled back.  I had to almost stop him to do that switch back to four.  But I did it the right way - I kept his head up.  I didn't let his chin go to his chest.  Over four, and then we got this amazing bouncy canter - forward, yet on his hocks.  I felt I could jump over the moon from that canter.  And from then on, all the other jumps became mere obstacles.  It was no longer a question of whether he will jump them, it was only a question how fast I will allow him to jump, and how elegant I can make it look.  There was no longer a question of control, there was only a question of using my reins and my heels to communicate with him.  It was amazing.  I have never ridden this pony so fast over cross country and yet felt so much in control, felt so sure he would jump everything, felt so in awe of how much power was propelling him forward.  I could now see that this pony easily had more scope.  It was incredible.

In the end, the result - me being eliminated - was immaterial.  I was the real winner.  That cross country ride just changed the way I jump - for ever.  That cross country ride made me realise that the next rung of my horse riding journey was within reach.  That cross country ride was like a thousand clinics rolled into one.

I jumped off my tired pony - and I have never ever seen Dingo that tired - and jumped up and down with joy!

Lil and the Novice Test

I entered Lil in a Preliminary and a Novice dressage test at an unofficial competition at the local riding school.  This would be Lil's and mine first crack at Novice.  Universal Guidance made me do it.

Well the day was an absolute disaster, with Lil coming an absolute last in everything.  So why in the world did the Universe make me do Novice?  I mean, the day was so bad, that I should really see myself and my horse as a total failure, and give up.  But, you see, the Universe knows me better than I know myself.  So the effect of this experience has been total focus and determination to succeed.  The experience made me in tune with every minute detail of my horse, my gear, my competition arena, and my fellow competitors.  I have learnt so much!

So, what exactly happened, and what have I learnt.

1.  Magnesium.  For a long time Lil has been exhibiting some symptoms of a magnesium deficiency.  When the Chiropractor came out, he suggested magnesium oxide.  We got it, and I started supplementing her with it.  Immediately I noticed an improvement.  The day before the competition I doubled her dose thinking that it might help her cope better with the stress the next day.  The problem with magnesium is that a deficiency presents the same signs as an overdose.  On competition day Lil was showing signs of a magnesium overdose - I think I gave her too much.  Her symptoms on the day were slightly sloppy poo (which can also be stress), and a sensitivity to sounds.  The latter is the worry.  When we were warming up, every time someone coughed, or banged a door, she would leap like a cat.

2.  New saddle blanket.  I had just bought a new saddle blanket.  I had never ever tried it on Lil before.  It was one of those beautiful white dressage saddle blankets, with a sheepskin lining.  Well, it's hard to determine if the saddle blanket was an issue or not, but, because it was a new, untried piece of equipment, it worried me.  And there is no time for worry on a horse that's leaping around.  Period.

3.  Overfeeding.  It had recently turned from total winter, to total summer.  In a matter of about 4 weeks.  The horses cannot shed their fur fast enough, and the grass is galloping with growth.  I fed Lil her normal feed.  But during brushing I noticed a slight soreness in her back.  So, after I worked her, I thought "if I feed her a bit of extra protein, that stiffness should recover faster".  Well, my thinking is correct, but on this particular occasion I think I overfed her.  When I hopped on her at the competition, it really felt like a horse ready to gallop cross country.  Not one that is ready to relax in a dressage ring.  It would have been better to leave the soreness as it is - after all, she was working just fine with it when I rode her on the day before competition.

4.  Back soreness.  It begs the question "why was Lil sore in the back a mere ten days after the chiro had been?".  The soreness was right where the saddle ends.  In fact, perhaps a little bit further - where the saddle blanket ends.  Now Lil has a short back, and large hind quarters.  And the hind quarters are probably a bit higher than perfect conformation would allow.  For a long time now I have been thinking that Lil would be better off in a 16.5 inch saddle, rather than the 17 inch I currently ride in.  Plus, I ride her in an all purpose and it really puts me too far back in the saddle.  I should get a dressage saddle for her.  I recently rode in my instructor's Equipe saddle - I loved that saddle and where it put my seat.  But ... oh the expense of a new saddle.  But, what if that saddle made a difference between me getting a placing in the dressage comp, and me coming last?  What's that worth?

5.  Mindset.  On the day before the competition I was brushing my horse and looking at this sore spot and thinking "oh poor horse".  So I fed her extra.  Then I put her in a paddock with her best mate, because I was thinking "oh poor horse".  So, of course, when I hopped on her in the warm-up arena and she started leaping around like a cat, I was still thinking "oh poor horse" and looking for something to blame, like the other horses, the saddle blanket, the sore spot.  When you have decided that your horse is fit enough to ride, there is no room for thinking "oh poor horse".  After sufficient leaping around, and thinking the situation through, I finally realised that most of this is just bad behaviour that I am allowing the horse to get away with.  So then I actually started riding properly, and asking her to work for me, and it all improved.

6.  The sand arena.  You've heard this all before with Dingo.  The indoor is great for a warm-up, and then you're out in the sand arena for the test.  The sand flicks up against the arena edges, and the horses feel like there's someone with a machine gun on their heels.  Due to the magnesium thing Lil was more sensitive to this on the day.  But nevertheless I must invest the time to get out there between competitions and practice in the dressage arena until she is desensitised.  I've got to put in the work!

7.  Dressage is slow.  My bad results really made me take a second look at what the other riders are doing differently to me.  I was lucky enough to be watching the lady who ended up winning my Novice test.  She also happens to be an instructor I learn from occasionally.  Her horse was slow.  There was no rush.  She wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere.  That test could have lasted all day for all she cared.  I am not good at being slow.  This is probably why I'm an eventer.  This is probably why I choose to zoom around on a trail ride, wind in my hair, joy in my heart.  Going slow is really difficult for me.  Not just in horse riding.  In everything.  I want to do everything in a hurry, then sit back for half an hour and have a coffee.  Then zoom again.  That is not what dressage is about and if I am to become any good at it then I must take up this challenge.  I must learn to go slow.  Slow doesn't mean lazy.  There can be a lot of power in "slow".  There must be impulsion.  But it must be slow.  It might not feel slow to everyone.  But it will feel slow to me - if it feels slow, then I'm probably doing a pretty good job.

8.  Forward.  While dressage is slow, there must be forward.  In the warm-up before the second test I felt Lil hanging on the bit.  I flicked the whip and she didn't go faster, she went more forward - I felt her hold her head higher, and step under more.  So while Lil can be a hot horse, she can also be rather lazy - because she does this hanging on the bit a lot.  She is not super heavy on the bit so it's easy to just ignore it.  But ultimately, I must ask her to be more forward.

In summary, the overfeeding brought out the flighty horse in Lil, which in turn highlighted training issues: not coping in the sand arena, problems with transitions, going too fast and not enough forward.  What I am still wondering is whether I actually overfed her?  Perhaps I don't feed her enough normally, and she actually doesn't have enough energy?

On a parting note - this is probably my favourite dressage competition to date because I have walked away with so many strong and clear lessons.  I feel so inspired now that I want to put it all into practice ... right now!!!  Oh wait ... I have to learn to be slow ...

Universal Guidance

The Universe delivers, as long as we are willing to listen.

A bit of background.  A few years ago I decided that I should get the chiropractor out to all of my riding horses at least once a year for a general checkup.  That visit has now been delayed by at least 2 years, as I always weigh up how much it will cost.

Also.  My work has been really busy this year, with me working 4 days per week (but quite often, handling a full time load).  Keeping two horses in work, Lil & Echo, has been hard work, as well as helping my daughter train her pony.  So, I have been looking at ways to make everything easier.

Now, the Universe story.

Sabina and I decided to attend an unofficial dressage day at a local riding school.  The competition offers preparatory walk/trot tests, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to introduce Echo to competition.  Naturally Sabina was taking her pony, Black Velvet, we have a two horse float, which meant that Lil was not coming.  Had there been more room on the float, I would have taken Lil and got her to do a Novice test.

I tried to download the entry form for the said competition, but to no avail.  No matter what I tried, I could not get the entry form.  Then I went to see my horses, and Echo came in lame.  It soon became obvious that the lameness was not going to go away in a day or two, and that the chiropractor might be required.  Disaster right?  All my plans have gone up in a puff of smoke right?

Wrong.  Change of plan.  Leave Echo at home, and do a Prelim and a Novice test with Lil instead.  Call out the Chiropractor to all the riding horses as they are all well overdue.

The minute I made this change of plan, the entry form for the competition downloaded without a hitch.  Fill out the form, pay, send it, and we were in.

Called the chiropractor and he was able to come out pretty much immediately, on a day and at a time that suited me.  When he came out, he found something wrong with each and every riding horse.  We have five.  The one most dear to my heart was my daughter's pony.  My daughter had been struggling with canter transitions, and a bit of pigrooting.  After the chiropractor's visit it all went away.

As far as Echo was concerned, he had strained a ligament over the stifle.  That means 4 weeks of rest, then lots of slow work (walk and trot mainly) in a straight line to strengthen it.  That means mainly trail riding.  Did I say something about easing my load?

As for Lil doing a Prelim and Novice test.  Well, this was obviously the Universe's way of telling me to get out there and do a Novice test - ready or not.

Perfect.

What I learnt at my last dressage competition

I took Dingo to a dressage competition - an unofficial EA event. It was one of those magical moments, when the score didn't matter at all. It was all about making amazing discoveries, and those alone making the effort more than worthwhile.

So what did I learn?

1. The competition arena can be a whole new ball game. The competition venue had a huge sand arena with the competition arenas setup with plastic borders. As a horse went trotting next to the plastic border, the sand would get picked up by the horse's shoes and flung at the plastic, making a sound a bit similar to someone shooting (although not as loud). The minute Dingo heard this shooting, all relaxation and swing left him. So, our work on the circle wasn't too bad, but our work on the track was a waste of everyone's time. The lesson? While you can't actually warm up inside the arena, you can warm up sufficiently close to it that you can get your horse used to the sound and relaxed with the concept. At least "relaxed enough" to get a good test. I did this in my second test, and it worked.

2. There are a lot of distractions outdoors. At this particualar competition, there was an indoor arena for the majority of the warm-up. Dingo went brilliantly in there! Then we went oustide for the final part of the warm-up and all of a sudden his attention went everywhere. Everything was worth looking at. Normally, I work Dingo outside. But I never realised that I am competing for his attention with so many distractions. It was a real eye opener for me because it made me realise that I need to work harder to keep his focus on me.

3. Smile. We all kind of know this, but we don't really understand it deep down. For my last dressage test I rode up to the judge with a huge smile, because she had been really nice and friendly towards my daughter earlier on. The judge loved my smile, and said "If you ride with a smile like that you can be sure to have a great test". I took it on board as the judge's advice for the day, and got on with my test. I will add here that I spent around 15 years on stage as an amateur singer and dancer, and at the beginning of a performance you plastered a smile on your face, and you kept that smile there until well after the curtain closed for the last time. So, I'm practiced at performing with a smile. As I rode my test Dingo and I had the odd tussle, but the minute I felt things were back in check I would ask myself "and how is that smile?" and I would take the smile that was still firmly on my lips, and take it right down into my innermost feelings. And when that smile hit my belly I could feel the pony relax. That smile really made a difference.

The bonus? Dingo came 6th in a quality field. Go the little red pony!

The 'lose' I had to have

Lil and I having an argument during a Dressage test.  (This photo is actually from Dunolly HT.)

Recently my own riding club held a mid-week Dressage competition.  I jumped at the opportunity and took Lil to it.  Being mid-week it wasn't going to impact my family in any way, and so I wasn't about to get called "competes too much".  Winner!

A day or two before the competition it poured.  So on the day the arenas were wet - to put it mildly.

I got there, saddled up Lil and rode into the warm-up arena.  She was warming up well on the wet surface, but I knew I was going to have a bad day.  It wasn't that I was scared, it wasn't that I was ill prepared, it wasn't that I didn't know my tests.  I have very strong intuition, and it was simply that I was destined to have a bad run. Nevertheless, I warmed my horse up as best as I could, and I went over the dressage tests in my mind to make sure that I knew them inside out.  Surely I can beat destiny?

I rode into the first test and it was going well.  Lil was travelling brilliantly.  And then it happened.  On the second trot circle she got a bit unbalanced, we got into a bit of an argument, I tried to remedy the situation rather than focusing on the test, and all of a sudden we were in the corner where the canter started.  Except that we were still trotting, and still arguing.  Arghh!  So I kicked her into canter, but it was a rushed transition, and we ended up on the wrong leg!!!  And this on her better rein!  I corrected the canter lead, and the canter wasn't too bad, but the marks were lost.  We got 3 for that transition.

I rode back into the warm-up ring feeling rather sullen.  What ever can I do in the second test to remedy the situation?  The second test was in an arena that was water logged.  Some horses seemed to cope with the going better than others.  Lil was in the second group.  She hated it!  Somewhere during the second test I could feel God laughing.  I tried my best, and admittedly I succeeded in completing the test - Lil had serious intentions on exiting at A every time we passed it.

So why did I "have to have" such a terrible run.  Because, when you lose, you learn.  When you lose you get disappointed, you get sad, and if you've got half a spine you get angry!  It's ok to be "angry".  Just don't take it out on your horse and on others.  But "angry" is good.  Because if you can control the angry energy it will take you to great heights in the future.  Ha!  "Take you".  It won't just "take you".  You'll get rocket propelled forwards! Sometimes, by falling flat on your face and losing, you learn much faster than by taking slow positive steps forward.

So what did I learn?  Heaps.  But I'll try to narrow it down.  My dressage on Lil is, to summarise it bluntly, "crap".  Look at Lil's last three horse trials results - 8th, 7th and 7th.  Good results right?  So what would it have taken to come 6th?  Well, it would have taken a much better dressage score!  Because she was already (mostly) clear in the cross country and in the showjumping.  The points difference between her and the 6th placed horse at Dunolly was 2 dressage penalty points.  Ok, so maybe that's not that much.  What if we wanted to be 5th? 9 dressage penalty points.  That's already a lot.  But what if we wanted to be first?  18 dressage penalty points.  Whoa!  See what I mean?

But when you're just doing horse trials it doesn't show up so much, and so you cruise around getting ribbons for 7th and everyone thinks you are doing wonderfully.  When you get out there and do just a dressage competition, and a couple of things go slightly wrong, then the weaknesses come out and bite you.

Ok, good.  So our dressage is weak.  Weaker than I thought.  I need to improve it.  How?

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.

Wandin delivers

Two horses on the float, daughter still in her PJ's smiling through her sleep in the back seat, pitch black outside and we're off to Wandin ODE.  We arrive without dramas, park, unload and register.

I get all dressed up in my jacket, then Dingo and I ride down to the dressage warm-up.  Dingo's dressage is in Big Wandin.  The warm-up goes well and probably my biggest issue is that he feels about ready after 10 minutes, yet we have another 30, especially since the tests are running late.  I am a bit stuck at what to do.  How do I ensure I don't "ruin" what we have.  This is not helped by one rider, who always seems to be riding straight into us.  Funny that we don't have that problem with the 10 other riders in the warm-up.

Our turn finally comes, and when the judge toots the horn she is in the shade and I can't see her wave.  So I am not sure.  Was that my judge?  Or was it not?  I look at the other arenas and by process of elimination decide that it was my judge.  I ride in, still not quite sure whether I am about to get eliminated because I didn't ride into the arena on time, or because I rode into the arena uninvited.

I do my first halt and realise that the whole judge and horn issue has taken up so much of my mind, that I have forgotten the test.  I quickly remember it, but any softness we may have had just vanishes as I tense in a sudden panic.  The first half of the test is wasted.  In the second half, I relax again and let it flow a bit more.  By then, Dingo is tired.  Uggh!

I grimace and put it behind me as we walk back towards the float.  Then it's off to walk the cross country course.  I look at it and decide that this just might sort a few horses out.  It's all at the right level, nothing too hard, nothing too easy, a few nice give aways, and some challenges.  Love it!

Then it's back into the dressage ring with Lil.  Her dressage is at the top of the hill, and the sweeping views alone get her eyeballs rolling.  Then there is the odd pram.  I get her in control quick smart - something I wouldn't have been able to do a year or two ago - and the warm-up goes well.

When it comes to our turn I have another stuff up with the judge and horn, but I'm not eliminated.  Then there is the issue of the view.  Ever ytime Lil has to go towards the judge she is as smooth as butter.  Every time she goes away from the judge she starts freaking out and loses all forward.  Double uggh!

So it's another test to move on from as we quickly unsaddle Lil and get Dingo ready for cross country.  As we approach the course I become acutely aware that I am quite hungry and very thirsty.  I've only had an apple since breakfast in the car.  Must remedy this after cross country.

The warm up goes well, and I get some really lovely jumps from Dingo.  But the minute we start, he takes off like a mad thing, not listening and paying attention.  And so when we get to jump two, the picket fence with all the colourful flowers in front of it, Dingo gets the shock of his life.  Refusal one.  We get over it, and have a few more arguments along the way.  Another refusal at the table top, and one more at the double.  Not our best performance.

I rush back, and get Lil.  In the process I manage to scoff down a banana and drink some water.  We only have 10 minutes to warm up, but it's enough.  She also takes off a bit like a mad thing, but when I slow her down before the picket fence she starts paying attention.  She doesn't really like the flowers, but is happy enough to put in a leap when asked.  We're smoothly through next few, and then the eye glasses give her the fright of her life - she seriously thinks she's about to jump over the head of a tiger or dragon!  We get a refusal at the double, but otherwise she jumps everything, although some of her leaps are so big, she may as well be doing 3*!

Back to the float.  Get Lil unsaddled and comfortable.  I give up on "the look", and stay in my cross country vest.  Taking it off would mean taking off my helmet, putting the vest away, getting the jacket.  I just can't be bothered.

We get Dingo ready for showjumping.  Here we get a bit confused - where is the showjumping?  I am grateful for my little strapper who holds my pony while I enquire about ring location.  We still get there early, and I even have time to walk the course.  Wow.

Now, the showjumping course.  At most other HT competitions the grade four showjumping course is little more than grade five, with a couple of enticing cross rails and only a few jumps set at the maximum 60cm.  And then the next level is Intro, and all of a sudden everything is at 80cm with an 80cm spread.  I mean how are you supposed to do such a massive leap?  Here, I must acknowledge the Wandin grade four showjumping course as being excellent.  Every single jump is at 60cm, with a couple of enticing oxers.  No inviting cross rails.  Just a real course providing a good grade four test for horse and rider.  Wandin - well done to you!

During the warm-up I keep our poor cross country performance in mind, and I keep thinking "light contact, and good drive".  I jump one warm-up jump.  Just one.  It's enough.  My pony is on the ball, and I don't need to stir him up any more.  We ride our round.  Dingo has a bit of a funny corner after jump six, which puts a rail on the ground of element 7A.  Otherwise it's a textbook round.

We go back to the float and this time we actually have enough time to scratch ourselves, as well as unsaddle Dingo, give him a proper brush and a cuddle, and get him all ready for going home.  We get Lil ready, and head back to the showjumping ring.

As we walk towards the ring, Lil is resisting.  I'm starting to think that even at grade four, the showjumping round truly is a test of fitness.  I coax Lil forward and we get to the warm up area.  I coax her through the warm-up.  A lot of walk, then a lot of trot.  When I feel her loosen up, I pop her over the jump.  Just one jump.  She's on the ball.  That's enough.  Then I just keep her warm and ticking over until it's our turn.

We ride into the showjumping arena and Lil's ears prick up.  I talk with the judge, the bell rings, I kick Lil into a trot.  An energy surges up in her that I did not expect.  "You point, and I'll shoot", she seems to say.  I don't need to kick her into canter.  I just point her at jump 1, jump 2, and so on till jump 9.  She is amazing.  She just flies.  She just clears everything in her path.  This is her forte.  She goes clear.  What can I say?  This little horse, with her odd fitness niggles, with her nasty attitude, with her royal airs, has just made my day!

Back at the float we make Lil comfortable and ready to go home.  I smile at my daughter.  She smiles back.  She's been a strapper all day long.  Now her Mummy is back.  She slips her little hand in mine and we go to get an ice cream.  We check out the results.  Dingo is about 18th, but Lil has managed to come 7th!  Wow!  After that awful dressage too.  "Mamma, I think you'll get a ribbon for Lil", says my daughter.  "Nah, I'm pretty sure it's just ribbons to 6th place.  We've missed out", I laugh.

We gaze some more at the results - overall so many cross country faults, so many eliminations, a few rails down in showjumping.  I knew that cross country was going to sort us out.  Wandin delivered a fantastic competition.

This is the first time I've ridden two horses at a horse trials, and it was busy, but I loved it.  I have found the real me.  Now that it's time to go home, the idea of staying for the presentations doesn't even enter my mind.  A pity - because it turns out that Lil just may have won a rosette after all.  Come to think of it, I should probably attend the presentations regardless of my placing.  And that's not the only lesson I walk away with.

Choosing Colours

The beauty of Eventing is that for cross country you can choose the colours that you ride in.  Of course you can ride in just a random shirt.  But why ride in any old shirt when you can have a shirt that matches your helmet cover - with a pom pom! - which then matches your saddle blanket, horse boots, headstall and an assortment of rugs?  You can even change that "shirt" for "silks".

Now, at HRCAV competitions we are still bound by our club colours, but once you hit EA, the world is your oyster as far as cross country colours are concerned.

I am not one to get the odd rug here, and the odd headstall there simply because they were on special.  I like all my gear to match, and to follow a consistent theme - for all my horses.  So I've been playing around with colour combinations for years!

When I did the Dream Team last year, we did an exercise where you close your eyes and imagine a situation, and then you identify sounds, smells, feels and colours with these situations.  I could identify sounds and smells, but they didn't seem that important to me.  Colour, on the other hand, was very important.  We went through various situations, and each time I associated a different colour.

Our Dream Team guide and guru strongly suggested that we should include the "right" colours in our riding attire - to calm us, inspire us, and give us our very best results.  Hmmm ... good idea.

I had narrowed down my colour combinations to about three.  Not three colours ... three different colour schemes.  Choosing between those seemed impossible.  Scheme one included light blue, navy and cream, and made me feel calm, peaceful and harmonious.  Scheme two included browns and beiges and a bit of black, was elegant and looked well on the horses.  Scheme three included navy, red and gold and left me motivated, inspired and full of life.

I gazed at the colours forever.  Why couldn't I have all three schemes, and dig them out when I felt like it?  I kept looking at one scheme, noting how it made me feel, then looking at the next scheme and comparing how my feelings changed.  What did I actually want to feel when I was at a competition?  What did I need at a competition to achieve my best?  I started wondering whether I needed a different colour scheme for home, and a different one for competing?

Sometimes, it's so much easier when the rules are just set down for you, as in Dressage and Showjumping.

In the end, the navy, red and gold scheme won.  At a competition, when you may have had a busy week preparing, an early morning to get there, you need to feel motivated, inspired and full of life!

I've already purchased the headstalls.  Now to slowly acquire a set of rugs.

My best year ever? (2013 wrap up)

Have I just had my best year ever?

In a nutshell - I went to 10 competitions, I had my first go at Intro, I got over issues with taking two horses to a competition, and I brought home some ribbons.  My daughter established herself as a worthy strapper and companion at competitions.

In addition to my horse riding outings I managed a week's family holiday and six family weekends away.  I also managed to take my daughter to 7 pony club rallies and one showjumping competition.  And let's not forget Tornado's visit at my daughter's birthday party, and her school!  Is there even that many weekends in a year?

But wait, that's not all.  We also had three different sets of family visitors from overseas.  They stayed either with my parents, or with my parents-in-law, but they were all here for an extended period of time, and while it was wonderful to see them and spend time with them, it did make schedules rather tight.

I also did some wonderful projects at work, and my health held up.

So, ok, it's definitely been a busy year.  But, success, is not measured by being busy.  Success is "the accomplishment of an aim or purpose".  Hmm.  It helps if the aim or purpose is easy to "measure".

My aim for the year was NOT "to be busy".  My equestrian goals were:

• compete successfully at Intro level on Dingo,
• get Lil upgraded to Level 4,
• get more professional at going to competitions,
• compete on two horses at the same competition,
• have more coaching sessions - with at least one lesson learnt per session,
• get my daughter walking and trotting independently on her pony.

The first goal has been a bit of a miss.  Yes, I did compete at Intro level on Dingo.  I competed three times, and I was eliminated on all occasions.  More about that another time.

All the other goals have been achieved.  In fact, the more I think about these goals, the more I realise that in some cases I have surpassed my wildest expectations.

Keep in mind, that life and all it's associated ups and downs got in the way many times - what with all those family visitors from overseas, a major car accident, health issues that almost made me quit my job, and family issues, stresses and disappointments.  When I look at the downs, the stops and the spills (yes, falls off my horse), 2013 is certainly a year I would rather forget.

When I look at the ups, the competitions that I attended, the ribbons I won, the scores that improved, the confidence I gained, the lessons I learnt, the way my riding has improved, the team that my daughter and I have become, then I feel that it has definitely been my best year so far.

Bring on 2014!

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.

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.