Group ride

A couple of friends came up today and together we went for a trail ride.  It was a great opportunity to take Lil out.

Well, she was a little champ.  When we first heard the motorbikes she seriously thought it was time to flee.  But since the other horses remained calm, and I just firmly asked her to calm down, she gave the whole fleeing thing a miss.

When we went for a canter, I thought she might want to head to the front and race.  But no.  I was pleasantly surprised.  I was able to move her to the front, then move her to second, and so on.  And she stayed so relaxed and so soft throughout.  It was, to put it simply, just marvellous.

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.

More riding than you can poke a stick at

Today was unbeatable.

Firstly I rode out into the state forest on Dingo. We had a fabulous time, riding all the way down to the other (pine) plantation. We had a few encounters with motorbikes and I think that Dingo has now pretty much learnt that when they idle by, they are harmless. My plan was to ride up a particular track, which extends beautifully between tall pines. Well, it's been a while since I've been there. So, firstly I got my tracks mixed up, and went down the wrong one. Secondly, the beautiful tall pines along said track have been logged. But the ride was spectacular and we enjoyed many trots, canters and gallops, as well as pleasant walks.

When I returned back to the farm I had lunch, and then headed out again. This time I rode Bel Bel, Sabina's pony. We just did some walk and trot in the arena/paddock, then headed up to the top gate. From there I led her home via the road. I like to ride Bel Bel once per week, just to keep the correct commands ticking over.

Finally I brought Lilly in. With Lilly I just did a standard dressage work out. The walk and trot (especially the trot) are now coming along nicely. The canter is still in the early stages, but I'm really happy with the progress there too. The other things we practice are serpentines (in the trot), leg yielding, shoulder in, and turns on the forehand. Notice that those last three ask for exactly the same thing - for the horse to respect your leg.

By the time we were finished it was dusk. Then I still fed the horses, and I was in the house at dark, a smigin after six. Heaven!

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!

To town and back

Today we went to town. On horseback. There's not much of a town left - it's really just a grouping of houses now, but that's not the point. The ride into town is 2km one way.

Sabina rode Bel Bel and I rode Dingo. We had a lovely ride. We passed cows, a man mowing the lawns, dogs, calves, other horses. And of course cars passed us. Bel Bel was a dream. She really didn't put a foot wrong. I can't quite say the same about Dingo - such a princess.

In town, we stopped in front of our neighbour's house, and had a snack. Then we rode back. On the way back Sabina said "Can we keep her?"

"I thought you wanted a palomino pony?", I quizzed. I mean, you know, I have to be sure here. I don't want back pedalling once the novelty wears off.

"Well, I would have liked a palomino pony", explained Sabina, "but really I just wanted a pony that I could call either Bel Bel, or Thowra, or Golden."

I wonder how long it will be before she'll want to take Bel Bel brumby hunting?

New pony settles in

Sabina, of course, was pretty keen on a palomino pony. But, the new pony is not palomino. She is a chestnut with a flaxen mane. But not flaxen tail, as is usually the case. However, Sabina was happy to forgo the palomino colour, as long as she got naming rights. She named the pony "Bel Bel". If you've read "The Silver Brumby", then you'll understand. And if you haven't read it, then I highly recommend it.

We started the day off with "personalising" Bel Bel. That is, Sabina trimmed her mane and forelock, as she saw fit. (Dingo had already done some personalising of Bel Bel, for which he quickly got relegated to another paddock).

Then we went on a trail ride into the state forest. Sabina, on Bel Bel, lead the way. That is, until we saw a bird on a log, which gave Bel Bel a tiny fright. The pony barely stepped sideways, but you've got to be fair. This was Sabina's first real ride on Bel Bel.

As Sabina got more confident we took turns leading, and even spent some time riding side by side and chatting. We rode all the way to Dead Cow, where we had a snack. Then back again. Along the way we saw dogs, birds, puddles, and fallen logs. We heard a car with a trailer. Bel Bel was unfazed.

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.

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.

Gallop

The other day I went riding in the state forest with a friend. She was riding Bess, while I was on Gally. Unbeknown to my friend, the ride was supposed to test Gally. I haven't cantered Gally much, and I have never galloped him. Normally when I ride out, he still looks around too much at everything, to get him into a gallop. The only time he gallops is in the paddock, and then he throws in a couple of pigroots. So my question was - when he is with another horse, and galloping, will he pigroot?

A well trained horse should know the difference between playing in the paddock and being ridden, and they shouldn't pigroot with a rider. But with a green horse ... sometimes they forget.

Luck added another test for me - motorbikes. Not one group, but two! One from the front, one from behind. This had Gally rocking on the spot, but I was able to control him, which boosted my confidence a lot.

On the way home, my friend was in front, and I suggested that we go for a canter/gallop up the hill. She didn't need convincing, and kicked Bess into gear. I clamped my legs on tight, and waited for the pigroot. It never came. Instead, the thoroughbred woke up in Gally, and he galloped. And he raced. And he had to be first. And when he was first, he suddenly started getting all looky again and slowed down to a canter. But then he heard Bess breathing down his neck, and he got going again.

This time I kept the legs on and we cantered all the way to the top of the hill. Even when Bess had long ran out of steam and slowed down to a trot.

Bush ride

A friend who doesn't have much access to trail riding has come up to visit. We go bush for over two hours.

During our first or second trot she points out how the ankles seem to dangle and move around in trot. "Does that happen to you? How do you stop that?", she muses. I look at my ankles bouncing around in rising trot.

The problem has me vexed for most of the ride. I play around with the sweet spot, this way and that. (I haven't actually had time to write about the sweet spot yet, so more about that some other time.) About half way through the ride, I think I have the problem sorted out. Not quite fool proof yet, though. So I keep quiet.

What amazes me more than the problem itself, is my attitude. When I first started riding I was distinctly "told" to try and keep my legs stiller. It took muscle. It was tiring. I gave it up after two strides. I just thought, "yeah, right, whatever, I haven't fallen off so it obviously doesn't matter".

Then along comes a friend, and basically gives me a challenge. "Betch ya can't keep yer ankles still while trotting". Well ... it's still tiring ... I got sucked in.

The ride, by the way, is awesome. We enjoy a few lovely canters, as well as the refreshing showers from the sky that seem to come at just the perfect moment.

Riding partnership

Today I take Gally out to the state forest for a ride. He is now getting much better at going forwards, and I decide to try a track that last time caused us a lot of grief.

He hesitates at the top of the track, but then ambles down it. Half way along, the track becomes quite steep, and Gally is visibly concerned about it. I let the reins out and just hold them at the buckle. His head goes right down to the ground, as he sniffs the path. Then, slowly, he walks down the hill. Every now and then he stops again to sniff the path, then he continues on.

Throughout the entire descent I just sit there, in amazement, holding the reins at the buckle and not doing much else. I have a feeling of partnership. I have asked to go down this hill, and the horse listens. I entrust the horse with my safety, and he takes care of me.

This is what horse riding is all about to me. It is this sort of feeling that attracted me to horse riding in the first place. And to eventing. It is this type of feeling that I used to get as a keen teenager, when riding horses during school holiday camps. I used to go over 1m cross country jumps, and I used to feel totally safe. I used to go over 2'6" showjumps, bareback, not holding the reins, and feel totally safe.

Yet, somewhere along the way, I lost this feeling. And I have been searching for it ever since. And at times horse riding felt like just another job. Or worse, like a battle. At odd occasions the feeling would return. But it was only a fleeting moment. Not long enough to understand what I was missing, or why.

And finally, here it is. That feeling of partnership. After banging my head against the wall for years, not only do I hold this feeling in the palm of my hand, but I totally understand what makes it happen. The next challenge is to reproduce it with every horse I ride. The other challenge is to take it with me into the dressage arena, the cross country course, and the showjumping ring.

In the meantime, Gally and I arrive at a shallow ditch filled with water. I cannot resist the temptation to practice the "water jump", and this is perfect. The ditch is a mere 10cm deep, about half a meter wide, and about 5 meters long. Gally requires heaps of encouragement to step across the little moat. He doesn't even need to get his hooves wet! But it's still a very scary leap for him. We get across, then we come back. Then across again. After about 5 tries he steps across it calmly and without hesitation. Enough.

We head home.

Little Miss Bossy

I ride Gally into the state forest. We take the first turn to our left, and half way down the hill he stops. Kick, kick, kick. Nah, not moving. Kick, smack, kick kick. Two steps forward. Kick kick smack. One step back. Sheesh. I sit in frustration, sweating, and heaving.

Eventually, I concede defeat, get off, and walk him down into the valley. I mount up and we ride on. Not for long though. Gally stops again, and after more kicking, smacking, sweating and heaving I am forced to get off. This scenario repeats itself a number of times.

But it's not all bad. I get a couple of trots and canters. The trots are rushed, but the canter is just magic. And when a wallaby jumps out in front of us, Gally barely blinks an eyelid. I also have a chance to experiment with my seat during Gally's absolute refusal to move. Lean a bit forward, lean a bit back. Let of go of the reins. Smack on the shoulders, behind the leg, on the backside. During all this he barely lifts a leg.

In summary, I would just say that where other horses would pigroot, rear or shy, Gally just becomes the passive aggresive.

Dream canter

With Crownie broken I have all morning to focus on Princess. We ride out. The aim of the ride is to test out my newly found level of control.

I get the odd hesitation as we head down Invert track. Then I ask for trot up Stanley Vale road. All good in trot, I ask for canter. It's a dream. Gone is the grab of the bit, the stiff neck and the out of control horse that won't stop till we get back home. This is a brilliant cross country canter. Full of strength and power, bowling along with a keen eye and alert ear.

Half way up the hill I bring her back to trot. Then canter on the other lead.

At the top of the hill we return to walk and amble along all the way home. As we head back up Invert track, I sit forward and hold the reins at the buckle. The horse keeps walking. I do my ultimate test of horse control. I take the phone out of my pocket and take a photo.

Lull before the storm

I wake up, but I really can't be bothered getting up. Tomorrow we're going to Tonimbuk for a jumping lesson and freshman's showjumping. I feel sick. I don't want to go to Tonimbuk. I don't want to do eventing any more. I don't want to get up. This is terrible.

Outside, the sunrise is breathtaking, and heavy fog rolls around in the valleys like a lazy polar bear. We ride out, but it's heard to follow our usual relaxed warm-up when mists fleet across the path like little ghosts, and sometimes you can't see more than 10 metres in front of you. As we trot on in these mists, I am impressed at how trusting Crownie is. We try to stay on high ground to get as much visibility as possible.

I don't want to tire Crownie out too much, because tomorrow could be a big day. At the same time, I don't want her to lose fitness. So we do a lot of trotting (much safer in the fog), and some short stretches of canter. We ride into the valley and then canter up the hill to Dead Cow. Within the hour we are home.