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.)

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.

The Cheeky Pony

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The hoon horse

I have realised something really important. Horse riding, in my life, fulfills two distinct (and almost opposing) purposes. One purpose is time out. The other purpose is the art of training.

When horse riding is used for time out I head out bush and get lost for three hours, and I gallop. This behaviour is also known as:

• hooning
• fanging it
• racing with the wind
• flying, reins loose, arms out to the sides, screaming "yeeee-haaaar!!!"
• using up the juice
• letting it all out
• burning rubber
• sending sparks
• getting a breath of fresh air
• creating dust
• kicking up mud

(Rest assured I don't gallop for the full three hours, and my horse is well looked after, both throughout the ride, afterwards, and in between rides.)

The long and short of it is, that I need a horse that's my "hoon horse". A reliable steed that I can just jump on and get out there and enjoy the wind in my face. I might still take my hoon horse to competitions, but his primary purpose is to be the hoon horse. The fun horse. The everything horse.

Crownie used to be the perfect hoon horse. She is now happily retired, although we often reminisce about those days as I scratch her wither under the shade of a tree.

Now Dingo wears the title.

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?"

Another day, another ride

So, we went riding again today. In the state forest. Lilly and I. My friend on her horse. The clouds threatened, the track was wet, the air fresh. The mushrooms were rapidly growing out of the needles under the pine trees.

The few puddles provided handy obstacles for Lil. I asked her to go through some of the bigger puddles and she was a good sport.

We did the obligatory canter.

"She's pretty relaxed. She is ready to go out by herself now", commented my friend towards the end of the ride. I think I've found myself a new coach.

Or maybe my friend is just sick of opening gates for me.  Should I, perhaps, get off my high horse?

Lilly canters

Today I went out riding with my friend again, but this time I rode Lilly.  (Now that she's got shoes.)  I've only cantered Lilly twice, and on a ride into the state forest, you want to put in a canter or two.  But in the back of my mind, this canter, still sat as an unknown quantity.

So, up the first hill, we trotted.  That is, Lil trotted.  My friend was quite happily half a length behind us, cantering.  Up the next hill, I mustered up all my bravado, and after a few strides of trot I asked for a canter.

Lilly, the ex-racehorse that she is, lept forward, and hearing the cantering horse behind her, bounded along.  I sat back a bit, and she came back to me, and we continued on, up the hill in this lovely lovely fast canter.  It was just ace.

Pony express

Today my girlfriend came over again, and we decided to go and do a ride with some cantering.  She rode Mo, and I rode Dingo.

We rode deep into the state forest, chatting and ambling along.  When time came for a canter, I let my friend go first.  I thought that this would be good for Dingo - it would teach him to sit back and listen.  That it did, and he did some lovely canter work.

However, on the final stretch for home, my friend, having regained trust in her horse, allowed me to go first.  I gave Dingo the reins, and the pony galloped gladly along.  Then half way up the hill he started slowing down.  "Nice", I thought to myself, and then I heard my friend cantering up behind me.  I dug my heels in and the race was on.  All the way to the top of the track.

Dingo arrived first, with my friend calling out "I'll give you a run for your money next week!".

Love it!

Leading

A couple of friends came up to the farm yesterday and together we went for a nice ride in the state forest. We had a lovely time catching up, and everyone enjoyed their horses. The odd thing about this particular ride was that one of the said friends brought two horses.

She rode one horse, her trustworthy trail riding mare, and she led the other horse, her young beautiful (and big!) dressage horse. It appears that both need the exercise, and the dressage horse has been a bit difficult on the trail, so leading him is a nice way to get him used to being out.

The moment of truth (and good training) came when we all went for a canter up a 2km hill. We had Chris out the front on Mo, me second on Dingo (and a loose rein!) and the friend with two horses up the back. And none of the horses decided to get out of control and race. It was fabulous!

But it got better. Half way during the ride, Emma decided that her young dressage horse was going so well that she will ride him. So the saddle came off the mare, went onto the gelding and off we went again. The gelding did put in the odd trit trot here and there, a snort or two, but overall was very well behaved. Even when we heard the motorbikes.

I was most impressed.

Now I've been contemplating leading a horse out on trail rides for ... oooh ... about 4 years now. I've been mulling over the problems and issues I might encounter, and how I would deal with those. And that's where the matter stood.

Having now seen how my friend did it, how she handled various situations, has renewed my enthusiasm for it. It certainly trains two horses with the one ride. Especially if you swap half way.

Approach and retreat

I took Gally out for a trail ride. I felt nice and relaxed, and just wanted both of us to enjoy something other than 20m circles in the arena.

We had the odd stop and look along the way, but overall Gally was walking out nicely. Until we got to the dam. The pool of water is nicely shaded, and looks dark and cold and mysterious. Gally stopped dead at the sight of it. He eyed off the bush to the right, but I quickly checked him with the left rein. So he backed up ten steps.

Normally, this would have sent me kicking him forward. But like I said, today I felt nice and relaxed. So when he backed up, I sat and waited. After what seemed like an "appropriate" amount of time, I kicked him forward. We got to the same spot, he looked at the water in the dam, and backed up again. Again, I waited calmly before asking him to go forwards again.

This game of approach and retreat repeated itself about three or four times. And then Gally went forward cautiously and walked past the dam like a pro. He was still nervous, but he was willing to trust me. I on the other hand did my job of staying relaxed and not working myself into a crazy frenzy.

I am convinced that as a result, we got past the dam faster than we would have if I had got all uptight about the situation. This is an approach that might not work with all horses, but it certainly works with Gally.

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.

Pony Club Trail Ride

We wake up refreshed. Sabina gets dressed, finds Chelsea, and off they go, hand in hand.

My morning is busy with packing up tent, and checking that I have brought all the right gear for the horses. Yes, horses. We're off on a trail ride today. Sabina will be riding Tornado, and I have brought a horse for myself too.

When Sabina hears that Chelsea may not be riding, she almost forgoes the whole activity. Luckily, Chelsea is keen to come along, even if it means riding double on the pony with her older sister.

There is a fair bit of assembling and standing around. Sabina is somewhat impatient. Then when we finally get going, even Tornado is keen to strike up a trot. Sabina is annoyed at her pony, and it takes a fair bit of explaining from me, before she starts being tougher and enjoying herself. But it's great to give her the experience of riding in such a big herd.

After the trail ride, and lunch, Sabina and Chelsea play "house" in the back of the float. One is sweeping, while the other is wiping off the dust. They are welcome in my float any time!

Finally, Santa arrives in a little jog cart. All the children get presents. Sabina ends up with this huge present, the smile on her face even bigger. She rips off the wrapping paper to discover a rock guitar. The smile disappears off her face in a jiffy. "Mama, I didn't want a guitar! I don't even like guitars", she moans. I could do some moaning of my own.

When we get home, Sabina unpacks the guitar, while I unpack the car. (I could really do some moaningnow.) All of a sudden, the unwanted toy comes alive, and becomes the best thing since daily bread. Especially, when Papa gives us his best rock guitarist demo, still in his farm clothing. It has us in stitches.

Pony Club Camp Out

Pony club has organised a camp out. So we arrive at the pony club grounds in the late afternoon. Evidently too late to get a yard. Tears follow. All afternoon, I have been asking Sabina to hurry up with the packing and not get distracted, or we will be late. Which part did she not understand?

Anyhow, we come to a sharing arrangement with one lady, which means we get to put Tornado in the yard for now. Enough to stop the tears, and we will deal with the rest later.

Then we start putting up the tent. Here, Sabina is all help and focus. Once the tent is up, she is busy moving our mats and sleeping bags inside the tent. Then she disappears into the tent herself, and plays "set-up house".

Eventually, she reappears and strikes up a friendship with Chelsea. Well, from now on I get an onslaught of questions - "Mum, can we do this?", "Mum, can we use that?" - but I no longer have to worry about entertaining my little girl, and "trying" to make pony club fun.

After dinner, we have presentations. All sorts of trophies are handed out, and then all the kids get a sash and a medal - with their name engraved on it! Pretty special.

We're in bed by 10pm and settle for a very comfortable sleep. One of the horses, yarded nearby, takes it upon himself to give us weather updates throughout the night. "Neigh, rain is coming!". Sure enough, we hear the rain pitter patter on the tent. "Snort, rain is gone." Thanks mate!

Neerim Show

The Neerim Agricultural Show is our closest show, so off we go to give Sabina some showing experience. I have just had chemo a week ago, and the effects are at it's peak - I have got such aches and pains that most of the time I can barely move. My husband has been suffering from a stomach bug, so he is feeling worse for wear.

We try to make the experience "fun" rather than "serious". This has Sabina riding around with a huge smile on her face, although some of the time she doesn't get it all right, she cuts corners, and kind of just lets her pony take her where he will. Tornado is so reliable, that he doesn't take her anywhere much, other than cutting off the said corners.

In the end we end up with about 4 third places, and one second. Sabina gazes at the white ribbons, and bemuses that she really would have liked a range of colours. Initially we try to explain why she came third, but we soon realise that the message is just not getting through, yet. *sigh*

In fact, the highlight of the show seems to be meeting some friends from pony club, and talking about the next pony club rally.  Oh, and the bling browband Tornado is wearing.

Been riding

I haven't been writing much, but I have been riding. And now I sort of don't know where to start - so much has happened. My horse has once again taught me so many lessons, that I am barely keeping up with him

Today is meant to be a hot day, but I am very lucky to wake up at 6. I sneak out of the house and grab my horse.

My routine has changed somewhat. I brush my horse, then put boots on. Then some days I practice loading him onto the float. Not today. More about that later. Other days, I take him around and play with him. Make him jump the ditch, make him walk over the gravel mound, make him walk between barrels. Whatever tickles my fancy, as long as it's fun.

Then I return to the hitching rail and saddle up and venture into the arena.

In the arena I do a warm up. Yes. I actually do a warm up. Not a vague few circles that are meant to be a warm up, but are really just vague riding, wondering what in the world a warm up is supposed to be. But a real "listening to the horse" kind of warm up.

Is the horse listening to my leg? Does he go forward? Can he do a circle? Can he flex? Is he ready to accept the bit? Does he stop? Is he ready to go forward more? Is he still looking around at the sights and sounds?

What I have found is that Gally is now ready to really stretch out in the walk. He can lower his neck and relax. He can stride out. I no longer need to push him every second stride, but I can just sit there and enjoy the ride.

But, walk him across the diagonal and the game changes. At this point I need to explain that I ride in a grass arena, that has been mowed recently. So clumps of mowed grass are lying everywhere. Not on the track, not on the 20m circle - just everywhere else. And ... guess what ... Gally is worried about this grass. I mean today we saw a lizard in that grass, yesterday there was a mouse.

I see this as a great training opportunity. I walk him over it, and drive, drive, drive. I do it untill I feel him stride out again. The second he strides out, I sit very still. That's his reward. One day that grass will become a bale of hay, and we will be jumping over it. And by then he will know that he just needs to go forward, over the obstacle.

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.

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!

My lament

I've had my cancer removing surgery and am now successfully and quickly recovering. But the rule is that I can't ride a horse for four weeks - that means I have another week left before I can ride a horse again.

I'm itching to get back on. That's an understatement. I keep having these thoughts of taking Sabina for a ride on Tornado. Or secretly catching Crownie and just giving her a brush.

I can just see myself next Saturday - I'll get up early and go for a three hour ride. Even if it is just mainly walking. Cannot wait!

Lizard's Lament

When you're training for competitions, it's hard to find the time for a really long relaxing ride. So today, I take Crownie out to do one of my absolute favourite's - Lizard's Lament.

Firstly you head out along the road. It's nice and peaceful. There is an option to head along the ridge track, via the quarry. It's been raining. It's slippery. So I skip that option, and continue along the road. Finally, you hit the bottom of the valley, where the road forks. I take the left fork, and within a few strides I am at the bottom of Lizard's Lament.

Crownie pricks her ears, ready to gallop up the steep hill. The motorbikes have left a few deep grooves in the track, and I hold Crownie at the walk, until we are on smoother ground. Still steep and slippery though. Then I let her take off. We gallop along wildly, enjoying the freedom, wind rushing through Crownie's mane, and whistling through my helmet, trees rushing by on either side.

At the top of the rise we slow to the trot. Lizard's Lament leads us on. It twists and turns gently. We trot, we canter, we gallop. Crownie clears the puddle in her stride. We canter. We canter right to the top of the hill, to the end of the track, into the sunlight.

The sun blinds us, as we dash out of the forest and into the second plantation. Acres of pine trees stand below us, like an army of faithful soldiers. We snort and head home.