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!

Keeping Score

So you complete a competition, you get your dressage sheet back, you get a placing of some sort, what do you do?  Throw it all in the bin?  File it all in a special folder titled "My journey to the Olympics: Part 1"?  Add a new dot point on a graph that forever marks the rise and rise of your horse?

Which one do you think I do?

Ok ok, stop laughing.  Yes I do put it in a folder, but not with the title above.  Each horse has it's own folder, and all Dressage tests, cross country course maps, and associated paperwork go in there.  I review the Dressage tests briefly, see what's worst (which means I need to work on it), see what's best (which means I need to keep working on it), and then it just gets filed away ... forever.

Well recently, the West Gippsland Equestrian Expo offered two places to be won in a Masterclass with Heath Ryan.  Of course, I jumped at the chance and applied.

I'll wait for you to stop laughing again.

One of the things the application form asked for was your Dressage results, placings, percentages, size of the competition, accomplishments, with a very strong implication that they expected to see some improvement in your results over time.

Well I was stumped, because I suddenly realised that I don't keep such detailed records of my horses' progress.  I get a general feel of how they are going, and whether they are ready to progress, if they have any particular weak points, or what they are good at.  I can feel when my training is slipping backwards.  I compare placings, more or less, but I don't track percentages from one Dressage test to the next!

I decided to enter Lil in the Masterclass competition, and so I dug out her results.  I am afraid that it became a rather sobering experience, as her scores map out a very clear roller coaster.  Somewhere between 56% and 60%.  Pretty much irrespective of the level.

As an Eventer, Dressage is only one of three disciplines that we practice.  So to see little improvement in a year is probably acceptable if you happen to be focusing on the other disciplines.  However, Dressage is the foundation, it is the key to better jumping, so it is very important.

I must say, that this has all inspired me to keep a better track of my competition results and I have designed a little spreadsheet to help me track it.  It includes a little graph to keep track of my Dressage scores.

The other thing the application asked for was a photo of you on your horse - fair enough - and a 30 second video, no more than 2M in size, of you and your horse doing walk, trot and canter.

I'm still laughing about that one myself.

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.

Balance

One of the most important things I have taken away from my lessons with Ron Patterson is "balance".

In my very first lesson with Ron, he walked up to my horse, pointed two fingers just in front of the girth, and just below the saddle flap, and said "Your horse's centre of gravity is here".

My mind panicked, because of course I was sitting a solid 10cm behind that point.  But as it was my first lesson, shyness overtook me, and I said nothing.  I wish I had screamed "why am I sitting so far back then?  Isn't that wrong?".  I should have screamed.  Or at least asked the question.

Later in the lesson, when Lil was travelling particularly sluggishly, Ron told me to lean forward.  But he meant bring the hips forward, not lean forward with your shoulders.  The minute I brought my hips forward, Lil shot forward with renewed energy.

Since that experience I have been madly experimenting with balance.  The more I experimented, the more I got it right.  The more I got it right, the more my position aligned with the text book description of what a correct position looks like.  But, I've stressed this before, and I will stress it again - the correct position feels nothing like what it looks like.  Don't copy the visual perception, understand how it needs to feel.

Also, the more I got it right, the more I realised how unbalanced I had been.  I realised how often I lost my balance; how often I still lose my balance.  I learnt how much I had been sitting back in the saddle as though it's a recliner.  Or leaning on the reins for balance.  It's not that I didn't have the strength or the skill, it's just that no one had explained it correctly.

When you are unbalanced, the more fussy horses will fuss because, quite frankly, they are not comfortable.  They might run, put their ears back, or pigroot.  I have experienced all of these, at various levels, on different horses.  My first reaction was always to question the horse's soundness - is it's back ok?  is it stiff?  do I need to call out the chiropractor?  And I hate calling out the chiropractor - it's expensive!

I noticed that Lil's fur was wearing thin just where the back of the saddle sits (Lil is my more fussy horse, who puts her ears back a lot, and has thrown the odd pigroot or two).  Maybe the saddle doesn't fit correctly?  I also hate calling out the saddle fitter - it's also expensive.  Well, I have found that since realising where true balance lies, and working towards perfecting my balance, those saddle marks have disappeared.

And regarding those pigroots - imagine if you were wearing a backpack, and that pack kept sliding further, and further down your back.  What "action" would you do to send it back up?  Wouldn't it be the equivalent of a pigroot?  I am not saying that all pigroots are caused by poor balance.  I am just saying that if your horse pigroots, try and fix your balance first.

So, how do you know if you're balanced?  How do you achieve balance?  Halt.  Stand up in your stirrups.  Drop the reins.  Balance.  Found that sweet spot?  Now drop all the weight into your heels.  Balance.  Find that sweet spot again.  Now lower your bottom until it just touches the saddle.  Don't sit down.  Just touch.  Now ride.  Walk, trot and canter.  Try to ride on a loose rein so that you don't use your reins to balance.  For one or two or three or however many sessions it takes, forget your reins, and forget about your horse.  Once you get your balance your horse will progress much faster, and you will make up the time.

Don't look for perfection.  Just look to get the "feel" of it.  You'll probably spend the rest of your riding life perfecting it.  You just need to become aware of what true balance really is.

You are allowed to have a break.  Sit back in the saddle.  But see that as a break, then get back to balancing again.  Once you "get" the "feel" it will become easier.  You'll be able to relax.  You'll be able to play with it.  Enjoy it.

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.

Bulla Horse Trials - Ricky Bannister Fundraiser

The alarms goes off at 4:50am, and I groan.  Daylight savings started a mere 3 hours ago.  But my brain surges ahead with the plans: get dressed, feed the horses, attach the float, come back to get Sabina, then load Lil.  Phew!  I like a girl with a plan.  Plan executed, and at 6:13am we are driving out the front gate.

The journey is boring at best.  We roll up at Bulla Pony Club, park, unload, visit the bathroom, and register.  The usual stuff.  Lil has clipped herself during the travel - it's totally minor, but I make a mental note to float her in bell boots on the front legs in the future.

The dressage warmup is in a huge grassy area that, in a couple of hours, will become the cross country course.  Our ring is right next to the road, with a strand of small trees, bush and scrub acting as a screen.  So you can hear the cars coming, but you can't see them until they are pretty close.  Lil's "relaxing" is not going well.  I try my best.  I think it's my best.  But I know it's not.  In addition our two weeks of holidays and daily feeding for Lil means I am on a fairly hot horse who just wants to canter.  That's great for cross country.

We ride up to the judge, and on the gravelly surface, next to the road Lil tenses up, and I can't really find the right button to push to change it.  So the dressage is terrible.  It's something that would be "just ok" with Dingo, but I really expect a lot more than that from Lil.

The showjumping, in contrast goes brilliantly.  Lil is a bit hot during the warm-up.  But she is keen rather than disobedient.  She does a showjumping round that the onlookers call "stylish".  Shucks.

After the jumping we get a breather - lunch, coffee, walk the cross country course and check out the results.  The cross country course is beautiful.  For the first time in my life I am not nervous about cross country.  I re-walk the course in my mind, and start worrying that perhaps I should be nervous.  I manage to grow respectful, rather than foolhardy, and leave it at that.

The results are another matter.  After the dressage I am coming =14th (last!) in a field of about 18 riders.  Hardly surprising.  However, after showjumping I move up to =12th.

The event is running early, and by the time I make it to cross country warm-up it's actually time to ride.  A few riders skip the queue ahead of me, and we get enough time for trot, canter, and a few jumps.  It's all Lil needs.  She's keen.

We head out of the starting gates at an easy trot as Lil assesses the course.  Lil's not quite sure what to lock onto just yet, and she takes the odd look at the jumps judges.  So it's a bit all over the place for the first four jumps.  Then we get our groove.

Number 5 is a double, the second part being a little brush and we almost have a run-out.  After that I take a bit of a stronger hold.  We bowl along at a fast canter, and I get the feeling that Lil is really happy with the pace, but also happy to come back when I ask.  It's magic.

Just before the water I slow her down to a walk.  I know my daughter is just there, watching, and I ensure that we do the perfect pass through the water - that is, the speed at which we approach the jump, is the same speed through the water, and the same speed after the water.  Then we bounce back into the canter and head over the last and towards the finish line.  Clear.

I am all ready to just pack up and go home, but Sabina forces me to see the results.  What?!  We are 6th!!!  And the girl that was equal with us has pipped us at the post.  We're on the same score, but she is 5th because Lil and I were a bit too fast cross country.  So of course we stay for the presentations.

It's 7pm by the time we get home, and it's been a long day.  I feed the horses, and then return later to collect their buckets.  Lil comes up to me, and pushes her head gently towards me.  I rub her lovingly on the forehead, between the eyes, between the ears.  I think I'm not the only one who enjoyed the day.

As soon as I have a moment spare I'm on the blower to my instructor "I think you need to re-grade Lil to Level 4.  How soon can you come over?"

Experience is everything (Cranbourne South Showjumping Day)

Dingo the pocket rocket in AM7

The last time I took Dingo and Lil to a competition, it ended in Lil kicking the float, followed by an expensive vet bill and a week of insanity as I attempted to look after her and work.  Unpurturbed, I attempted to take them together to another competition - that ended in Lil injuring herself before we even got going, and having 2 months off.  Since then, the two horses have travelled to different competitions separately.

That is, until now.  I feel that I have learned enough about Lil, that I was willing to take her to a competition together with Dingo.  So the main aim of going to the Cranbourne South Showjumping Day, was to have the experience of riding two horses, and to give Dingo a go at Level 4 Showjumping, before trying to get him upgraded to Level 3.

The beauty of a Showjumping competition with two horses at different levels, as opposed to a Horse Trials, is that the levels are ridden in order - so once your horse is saddled, you ride your rounds and then that horse is done.  Whereas in a Horse Trials you have the whole complexity of this horse is doing dressage, while that horse needs to be saddle up for showjumping, this level is running late, etc.

I am proud to say, that we were the first competitor to arrive at pretty much exactly the correct time in accordance with my schedule.  A 4:30am wake-up, two horses, and my eight year old daughter - not a trivial feat.  Upon my arrival, and to my great relief, I sighted yards.  Yards with 3 sides - perfect.  The horses will have all the experience of being tied up, without being tied up to the float.  Lil might kick the yard, but at least she won't kick the float.

Having secured prime position, I got Lil ready, while my daughter diligently prepared Dingo.  My daughter came along as strapper, but she only strapps Dingo.

In my mind the ultimate test of horse and rider is Horse Trials, and the cross country jumps certainly require respect.  So a Showjumping competition is really just another training opportunity.  Nevertheless, I was nervous.

There were three rounds - Take Your Own Line (TYOL), AM7 and Table C.  I found TYOL a lot more of a challenge than I thought.  As you walk the course, you spend half your time thinking about what line to take, and the other half, trying to remember the line you chose.  And in the end, I lost my way.  I still did the entire course, and it was a great round, but it would have been faster if I had remembered my original line.

In AM7, Lil did a wonderful job going clear (of course), and then I stuffed up in the jump off.  Luckily, I never crossed my tracks, and was able to complete it, but, again, we lost time.

Lil over the last one in AM7

Finally, Table C.  By this time, the nerves had settled, and I had a good feel of how Lil was travelling.  In addition, I think the "ride for a short time, then put her away" routine really agreed with Lil.  We had a really nice round, although Lil did drop a rail - most likely out of laziness.

Then it was Dingo's turn.  The change over from Lil to Dingo wasn't rushed, but we certainly had no time to play with, and my strapper, little though she is, was priceless.  With Dingo, my biggest concern was that he has just come back from a holiday, and we haven't done much jumping at the required height.  I needn't have worried.

This time, in TYOL, I remembered my line, and the little pony flew around without a single second look, and he never rattled a rail.  In AM7, we got a clear round, and a clear jump off.  No mistakes there.  And he flew around the Table C course - a little too fast perhaps, which means I had to fight for control, and it probably cost us time.

In the end, the scores looked like this:
Lil:
TYOL - 7th
AM7 - 7th
Table C - 3rd

Dingo:
TYOL - 6th
AM7 - 11th
Table C - 5th

A lot can be said about the placings Lil could have got had I not made the errors.  Experience is everything.

We walked away with three ribbons, a daughter who had a great day (and took over 100 photos!!!), and two horses who arrived home safe and sound.  Success!!!

A happy strappy!

Dingo back in work

Dingo has been enjoying a well earned rest for the last 6 weeks - I think it was supposed to be 4 weeks, but, well, it appears that time flies.  He came back into work with a reasonably easy going dressage session.

I have learnt so much in the last six weeks.  I have been trying it all out on Lil, of course, but I was just dying to try it out on Dingo.  To feel what the difference was.  To feel how he would respond.

He responded really well, and some of the learnings certainly apply much more to Dingo than to Lil.  I have also realised - he is much much harder to ride than Lil.  Or rather, he is much harder to ride well; to ride in a way that will score you high marks in a competition.  Timing, balance and precision is everything with this little pony.  All while staying totally calm and relaxed of course!

Lil's lesson with Ron

Windsor Farm organised Ron Patterson to come out for a couple of days, and I grabbed the opportunity to have a Dressage lesson on Lil.

I walked into the arena, and from the time that he shook my hand I knew we were going to get on like a house on fire.

There were a few things that stood out about Ron.  Firstly, he was prepared.  All sorts of poles and blocks were lying on the ground, setting out a multitude of different exercises.  Secondly, he explained the training scale he works with - not in so much detail that you start yawning - and pointed out where on that scale we were.  Finally, he made it clear what the rider's body needs to do.

What I really liked is the exercises.  We were never on the track.  We were never on a 20m circle at A, we were never doing a serpentine, or a change across the long diagonal.  It made me realise just how boring and limited my daily training is!

He had us doing straight lines, and gentle curves, he had as circling around a pole, and between poles, he had us changing rein from one pole to the next, or from one block to the next.  It kept our minds very active.

Ron had a great focus on the rider's position.  He was mindful that you were able to move bits of your body independently.  He wanted you to be as skillful on the left as you were on the right.  And, best of all, when your horse wasn't travelling well, he would ask you to shift your body in some way, and all of a sudden, presto, there was a lot more fluidity in your horse's movement.

He was the first Dressage instructor to tell me to lean forward - and this was probably my favourite "take away" from the lesson.  At the time, Lil was trotting very slowly.  I was pushing with the leg, but it felt like getting blood from a stone.  Then Ron said "lean forward".  Catiously, I leant forward a hair.  "Lean forward", called Ron.  I leant forward another little bit.  "Really lean forward", called Ron.  Ok, I leant forward, pretty much going into forward seat.  Lil surged forward with alactrity.  "See, you'd got behind the horse, and you felt very heavy to her.  Now you're over her centre of gravity, and she can go forward again.  Good", commented Ron.  Wow.  "Ah-ha" moment.  It's not so much about getting your shoulders forward, but getting your seat forward in the saddle.  Ron calls it "sitting on the edge of your seat".  Nice.

I just loved the lesson, and felt very happy with my horse's progress, I felt I had learnt a lot, and best of all, I felt I could go home and I knew what to practice.  I can't wait for Ron to come back again.

Friends of Melton Horse Trials

Lil ambling cautiously through the water jump

Having enjoyed this event on Dingo last year, I decided to enter Lil in it this year.  Level 5.  The schedule arrived in the mail - I was first - on at 8am!!!  What am I doing on at 8am?  Why couldn't they put some other, more local rider, on at 8am.  Don't they realise it's a 2 hour drive?  Then I remembered - my entry would have been the very very last to arrive, in one of those express post envelopes.  So that's the system - last entry, first to go.  Great!

Then I remembered the quality of the grounds - clay surface.  Going first will mean that the ground is less slippery.  For Lil, that's a serious advantage.  Thank you God!

Well, I wasn't saying exactly that as I was getting up at 3am in the morning!  I left home in the dark, had a wonderfully uneventful journey, the road to myself, and arrived still in the dark (although you could just see a smigin of dawn on the horizon).  And parked right opposite my friends.

By 7:30am I was on Lil, gently circling at gear check.  Then another lady arrived on her horse.  We looked at the sign that said "gear check".  We exchanged a few kind words, something about "wonder when the gear checkers get here", and continued to circle daintily.  Then another lady arrived, looked at the sign, looked at us, and unscrupulously called out "GEAR CHECK PLEASE!".

I was majorly disappointed with my dressage.  All this beautiful trot that we've been practicing at home just wasn't there.  Lil wasn't settled at all, she was eyeing off the edge of the arena, as well as the water jump behind the judge's car, and bulging towards the float.  And at the end of it all she had the cheek to tell me how unhappy she was about the whole affair.  Luckily, she had a couple of hours to sit in a yard and think about it.

Going first in dressage also meant I was the first to go in cross country.  What I didn't realise was that I was the very fist - out of all the levels - to be going cross country.  This means that all eyes were going to be on me to see how it's riding.  That's kind of cool.

The start of the cross country was late, which means we were there, circling aimlessly for ... well ... a long time.  Lil had kittens about 3 times - one of these being over some arena fencing falling off the back of a truck, where she was ready to gallop back to her yard.  When I didn't allow that option, she seriously considered dumping me.  Horses.

I braved all of her behaviour as best as I could, and in the end I actually had a horse that was travelling actively between leg and hand - just the way my instructors told me to aim for.  So, while the cross country start was late, it actually worked in my favour.

Finally, off we went.  Lil jumped the first jump as though she was doing a three star course, then bulked at the second.  It took some persuasion, but she went over it eventually, then travelled beautifully until we got to the water.  I slowed her down to a walk, but she really would have preferred a considerably longer look.  Then we got our groove, and she bounded along happily.  With three jumps to go I checked my watch.  We were over time, and I allowed her to press on at the fast canter.  We finished with 20 jumping penalties - which must have been the refusal at jump 2.

Due to the late start of the cross country, it was straight back to gear check and straight into the showjumping ring.  Lil thought that really it was time for the yard, and brief thoughts of parting company with me entered her mind.  Emphasis on "brief".  It was in the showjumping ring that Lil suddenly showed her forte.  Instructors often tell you of lengthening and shortening, of basculing, and doing the perfect turn.  Lil did it all like magic.  It flowed, and she flew, and she did the perfect clear round.

Lil went back into her yard and nuzzled her new found friends.  I grabbed a coffee and a muffin and went to talk to my friends.  We hung around long enough to see the results posted on the board.  I looked at the bottom of the list, which is where I expected to see myself, but I wasn't there.  Damn it!  They've somehow lost me off the list.  Perhaps I got eliminated at jump 2?  Then it dawned on me to look a bit further up the list - we came 8th!  I was stoked!

We packed up and headed home - getting there at dusk.  I was greeted by my husband and my daughter who brought me warmed up food to the shed, where I was unloading my horse.

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.

Update on Princess Lil

On Saturday I hopped on Lil to do some Dressage training, and she had so much forward that I considered whether I should feed her less.  It was a good kind of forward, but you don't want it to go too far especially when you train in a seven acre paddock.

She felt lovely and strong through the back, and we were actually able to canter within a 20m x 60m arena.

With some apprehension, I fed her her normal fare that afternoon.

On Sunday, she felt like a flat balloon.  That forward?  It was all gone.  Her back still felt strong-ish, although she did trip a couple of times.

So I think I might try feeding her more.  On the up side, I think her back is getting stronger, so the type of training I am doing is working.

Elastic Contact

In the recent months, as a result of a few dressage lessons, I have discovered what I would call "elastic contact".

It's a bit like a "push-me-pull-you" game that your horse's mouth plays with your hands.  Notice the wording here.  It's not "your hands play with your horse's mouth".  It's "your horse's mouth plays with your hands".  Because that's the truth of it, that while the contact on the reins is initiated by your hands, the game is activated by your horse.  More about that in a minute.

It feels like your reins have suddenly got a section of elastic band in them, and they stretch and compress as your horse ambles happily along.  You can't use this contact for balancing though - it would be like trying to balance using a rubber band - it will just stretch.  But, you can "play" a bit with this contact, driving more horse into it, or stretching it back towards you to slow down.

It feels like the ultimate connection with your horse.  Initially it can be fairly heavy handed, like an old rusted spring, but as you get better at it, and your horse trusts you more, it should become lighter and softer.

Have I sold you on the concept yet?

Now, back to initiating this "game" with your horse.  Like I said - you, the rider, initiates it by picking up the reins and creating a contact.  Your horse then chooses to either brace against you, back off the bit, or to play the game.  Naturally, you want the latter.

Dingo braces against you (and generally races off into the sunset).  Lilly tends to back off.

The trick with Dingo, is to obtain a contact without allowing him to brace, and then to ask for another 4 millimetres of contact, and then release about 2 millimetres of contact, all the while holding perfect balance with your body, and keeping a really quiet leg.  Phew!  Yes, not a small achievement.

The trick with Lilly is to send her for a solid fast canter up the hill, with lots of half halts, good or bad, doesn't matter.  Then walk back down the hill to the arena, and ask for trot.  Presto.  Elastic contact every time.  Just like magic - as long as you can handle the fast canter.