On Thursday, I
had my PhD Viva. For those who don't know how a PhD works, you spend 2.5-3
years doing novel research, then you write a book (a thesis) about what you
did, why you did it, what you found, what it means, and how it all relates back
to the relevant field of research. To
examine whether you're fit to become a Doctor at the end of it (PhD literally
stands for Doctor of Philosophy, which essentially means a Doctor of Knowledge,
whilst MD means Doctor of Medicine), that thesis is sent to two, sometimes 3,
experts who then come and examine you. That examination, a prolonged interview
on your work, is known as a Viva, and given that 3-4 years work are pinned upon
this one grilling, it's one of the most stressful experiences a person will go
through in terms of your academia/work life. After 2hrs my examiners called a
5min break: it was 4:30pm and we were still on the first chapter. I had four
experiments and a general discussion still to go and thought we'd all be there
until bed time. As it turned out, after four hours of difficult questioning I
was sent out of the room for their deliberation: upon being welcomed back in, I
was told that they'd be recommending to the relevant committee that, after
making the suggested changes they brought up during those four hours, that I be
made Dr Lynn. I was over the moon: I will officially be Dr Debz once that piece
of paper is placed in my hand at graduation later this year!
The point of
me explaining all this however, is to highlight that I needed a way to wind
down, clear the cobwebs and celebrate. I had a discount voucher for a second
ride at the city riding school so yesterday on Friday 13th, one day
after passing my viva, I was due on a 2hr hack in woodland for only £25. I
hadn't been able to think about it as the Viva nerves had consumed me, so only
on Thursday night/Friday morning did the excitement begin. I have to say, the
experience wasn't a let down! I hadn't been hacking since I was a young teen,
and it had always been very tame – walking and trotting. I was looking forward
to cantering in the beautiful outdoors, and they were beautiful on this cool,
dry but sunny afternoon – perfect conditions really!
I arrived
15mins before the hack and joined the queue for the office, which in the end
wasn't opened up until after the hack was meant to have already started. The
SPCA were there, so I wondered if they were holding a meeting and that was the
cause of the delay. (That's not necessarily an issue though: I know lots of
folk who turn out their laminitic horses in starvation paddocks, and the public
walking past have called the RSPCA over a horse without food, without seeming
to notice the animal's impeccable body condition, and that it doesn't live in
such a sparse field 24hrs a day without hay). I was the fourth of six hackers
to make it into the office, even though I was the 3rd to arrive. The
3 before me had been more times before than I had, and were given the list of
horses to choose from. The woman who'd pushed in was read them out and I heard
Theo – the 18.2hh dressage schoolmaster that had been recommended to me by my
private instructor there. I was gutted when she took him, but to be fair, out
for a hack may not have been the best chance to try riding a giant and to ride
this dressage horse for the first time. I wasn't asked who I wanted, but was
told I was on Frankie. I had no idea what that would entail, but agreed with an
excited smile :)
Out of the
office we piled, and staff went into the private barn and started to bring
horses out. First out was a small bay tobiano horse called Clyde. Then came a
beautiful chestnut giant, and I knew already it was Theo. He was fidgety, but a
total looker. A 16hh or so bay Appaloosa came out, and I knew from the FB page
that was Dotty, so didn't get excited when I saw it come out as I had the
others. Then came out a tobiano pony called Finley, so I knew that was for the
teen girl. There was then only two of us left, and a dishevelled but sweet
looking 15.2hh or so grey horse came
out. I started to get excited: I love a grey and the horse looked sweet, even
though she looked like she'd not seen a brush for a while! (As it turns out,
they'd been brought in from the field that morning and giving how muddy our
hacking route was, I was soon to understand why they hadn't bothered with
better turn out). The name called was not Frankie however, and the nerves were
now building having had the longest wait for a mystery horse, and knowing the
next set of hooves to come along were for me.
I didn't have long to wait and out came this very heavy set little cob,
about 14hh of solid Welsh D mare, named Frankie. She was a gorgeous bay with a
very symmetrical blaze, and reminded me of Fiona Hunt's dressage Section D
Genie (Miss Congeniality II when competing). I love cobs, especially heavy
weights and maxis, and I guessed she was going to be fun but potentially
opinionated as a Welsh D mare and indicated by her 3 ring gag, on a single rein
and on the bottom hole. I got up, we got
the stirrups sorted, although the women didn't check them for evenness as they
had done with all the other riders as the rest were already queueing to get off
the yard. I was later going to regret not having my suspicion that my right one
was a tad longer checked!
I got into
line, and told to cut in front of the grey at the back as 'she' was faster. I
presume they meant my mare, but I didn't know for sure. I did that, so was 5th
in the snake of 6, immediately behind the teenage girl on Finley, and therefore
quite far behind the leader on her own horse. I didn't hear what she said about
the river we needed to cross, but I trusted Frankie – she has hundreds if not
thousands of years of breeding to live in the Welsh mountains and navigate
various terrains running through her veins. She took a slightly different path
across to the others and made much more of a crescent. I quickly learned (we'd
been walking only 2mins before the river as it essentially runs past the yard)
that her spatial awareness does not include her rider – she is happy to brush
past holly, gorse, other spiky trees and even medium-thickness branches in her
coarse winter coat. I was less happy, and was pleased I was wearing my heavier
black breeches, and that I'd gone for my hoody over my two long-sleeve tops
rather than a body warmer that would have left my arms more exposed. Anyhow, we
made it across and again she took a slightly different route up the bank, but I
relaxed the contact to let her decide.
The paths
leading away from the river were pure mud: dark, wet, slippy mud. This is why I
clicked that the horses were so dirty already: because there clearly was no
point in cleaning them to be ridden! We got to a bit where there was a track
sunk at least a foot down from the grass and little more than a foot wide. For
the first time I heard the leader – she'd shouted trot, and I couldn't believe
there was enough room for all these variously shaped horses and ponies to move
their legs through this narrow corridor at speed! Again I gave Frankie her head
and off we went! My suspicions were immediately confirmed: my right stirrup was
indeed longer. Add this to Frankie's choppy stride (she rode even smaller than
Murphy at my regular school: more like she was 13hh, and I've not ridden
something that little in over 10 years). I got the rhythm but it was not
beautiful: it was bouncy, fast and I was struggling to work against that longer
stirrup and keep myself centred. Once we were back at walk I had a go at fixing
my stirrup, but the next hole was miles away: this was as good as it was going
to get without stopping the whole ride so that I could halt, loop the leather
through the stirrup then start from scratch regarding which hole was correct. I
didn't feel brave enough to hold up the ride, so I just agreed with myself to
deal with it.
We got back to
walk and the track widened, with a variety of puddles across it. I let Frankie
navigate and she took a path almost entirely different to the horses in front:
it was very thigmotaxic though, as the sides were clearly the best ground, and
I got scraped through a lot of shrubbery! She clearly knew what she was doing
though (she never slipped once the whole 2hrs, besides the fact that the ground
was close to quick-mud in places) and was glad to be choosing the route!
We got out of
the woodland, river-side mud and onto firmer, open ground. I thought to myself
“I'm on a strong pony that I don't know, in an open space right now, and I've
nice relaxed reins and a trust in her: I sometimes don't even have that on the
horses I know in the giant derby paddock at my own yard!” I was also pleased
that from the off I'd had a nice easy contact, and was not carrying tension or
nerves through my hands as I used to. (If riding a horse in the big paddock for
the first time I often used to feel I needed a short rein, just in case, and
the horses knew straight away that I was nevous). Anyway, I felt Frankie jog
and lo and behold, we were at a trot section again. We stopped and the leader
turned to us (well, as much as her horse let her, as he'd spin and leap when
she tried to stop him) and she said we'd be cantering up the hill in front of
us. It was quite steep, but I was excited: I love the feeling of cantering
uphill, and as it's easier for the horse to balance compared to downhill, making
it safer for a first canter or gallop. I did not give Frankie a single aid, and
she took off: I honestly thought she was about to switch to gallop as she was
going that fast, but when the steeper part on the bottom of the hill came up,
she had to slow down, but the canter itself was collected and uphill as so much
effort was put into attacking the gradient under us. This little heavy cob,
carrying pretty much the maximum sized rider she comfortably could, took that
hill like a race horse: it was amazing!
The big grey, almost 2 hands taller, was left eating our dust (well, our
mud) behind us! It was thrilling: I adored it! I also seemed to get on better
in canter with the uneven stirrups than in trot: I think maybe it's because I'd
worked out how to keep both heels down in walk from the angle of my ankles, and
it was easier to maintain that in canter than it was to rise evenly in a trot.
My Turbo Cob
had come to life in that canter, and we'd both had a blast up the hill. In
fact, partly though adrenaline and partly because my eyes steam in sunny or
windy conditions, I had tears down my face. I wasn't crying, but my eyes were
streaming, and it was amazing. As it turns out, that streaming happened at
every canter :) We met a public footpath
and a bridge not long after that, and finally I started to relax and take in
the views, knowing I was overcoming my stirrup lengths okay, and that while not
as tidy as I would be with a bit of practice, I could easily ride all three of
this fast pony's paces. One of the bridges I would have freaked out a bit about
walking over on foot as I'm afraid of heights, but fed off Frankie's confidence
and actually enjoyed the view when crossing it! We were in gorgeous woodland
glens, with some parkland, and quaint villages. I couldn't believe that 30mins
on a bus from the city centre had got me to a yard with such glorious hacking
on its doorstep!
We had a mix
of trot and canter work through a variety of countryside, and I got the hang of
her choppy trot better. I collected her up at one point, and that trot was
glorious: smooth and powerful, with her hocks under her. I finally felt like my
trot work was tidy, and this little pony was giving me what I wanted with very
little needed to achieve it. I quickly stopped worrying about tidiness though:
anytime I was trotting or cantering, I was too busy enjoying it to see if the
rider in front of me was riding beautifully or not. Even if the lady behind had
been checking, I wouldn't have cared!
The route did
involve some road work, but apart from one car that went past faster than was
comfortable, the drivers were very courteous. Our leader waved to them as much
as she could, but with a joggy, spinney horse who anticipated every fast
section, she couldn't always take her hands off the reins. Even if she had of
always waved, I hate bad manners from hackers, so I waved, smiled and said
thank you to every driver, and even every pedestrian that was courteous in
allowing us past, or showed consideration when passing us.
Along this
hack, we met a lot of potentially spooky things. One man had his birds of prey
out, and was trying to fly his eagle, who had jingly bells on its legs. He was
trying to hold the bird steady on his glove to let us past before he released
her. The first couple of horses freaked out a bit and really spooked at both
the sight and the sound of it. Frankie just looked at it, kept an ear locked on
it, but nothing more than that. We met some lorries, and heard cars with
beeping horns – not so much as a blink. There were also two aggressive collies
in a garden, constantly altering their position to threaten the snake of horses
as we walked past, and Frankie again did nothing but bend her neck to look as
she walked. She actually gave me confidence, as the scars on my right arm are
from being attacked by a collie, so when I see the breed, especially off lead,
I can get very nervous. These dogs could easily have cleared their garden wall
too. She didn't seem to care, so I guessed this was a regular thing and they
don't ever jump out. What a super little cob to look after me like that!
We met lots of
people along the way. One woman was out walking her kids and upon seeing us
said “Mummy, can I ride a horse some day?” I jokingly apologised for the
expensive mistake of bumping into us out hacking, and the woman on the grey
horse told the kid how fun it was and that they'd love it! There was also a kid playing in its back
garden, and when when we went past shouted “YAY: HORSIES!” One man and his son
saw us coming along a narrow muddy path, so stood on the little bit of grass verge to let us all past. I
smiled and thanked him for letting us past, but they looked delighted to see
us, as almost everyone on foot had. One man even stopped strimming the garden
the moment he saw us coming, even though the noise wasn't very loud and didn't
seem to bother the horses!
I have to say,
I liked going through the towns the least. The smiles from the residents were
lovely, and the trot work made the most amazing sound: a smattering of metal
shoes on tarmac, hitting the ground at different times. Frankie however has
steering drift: stick left is her default, and mostly it was right: often the
puddles in the mud were best taken on the left, and on road work you must be
left obviously. However, in towns, cars were often parked on the road, so we
had to move along the ride side of them to rejoin the road's left edge. Frankie
made sure she never touched them: she was not making sure where I was though: I
literally had to left my left leg as high as I could, almost kicking myself in
the backside, to make sure my foot didn't take out any wing mirrors. I tried at
the second car to keep her further out by bring the right rein back, but she
wouldn't alter her path. I'd not wanted to use my leg in case moving my heels
was enough to brush the car, but quickly found that she attended much better to
leg than hands, so was more prepared in advance. She was very obedient about
it, but it required more concentration through the towns, and of course the
views of houses weren't as nice as views of glens and hillsides!
We had another
canter stretch once out of town: it was a dirt path through trees, and apart
from a giant puddle which we were told to go through on the left, it was fairly
straight. Frankie told me it was coming before the leader did, jogging as she
had before every other up-transition. Frankie also seemed to know left was
best, and I was swiped a lot by branches. None of them really hurt, but there
was a thickish one that hit my hat, that I knew I would have been on the floor
if I was one of those eejits that rides horses without a hat on! I wondered how
the weave around the puddle would go but needn't have worried: Frankie was
absolutely flying (not a riding school canter: I never had one of those lazy,
lack lustre paces that needs to be worked for), and didn't motorbike at all:
she stayed very upright any time she shifted to choose the ground she liked
best, and I was concentrating so hard on keeping my backside in that little
saddle with my uneven stirrups, along with enjoying the wind (but not branches)
in my face to care about steering with my legs! (I also found that squeezing
with my left leg meant that my foot slipped through the stirrup a bit as I
moved it back to squeeze, so was reticent to leg-steer at speed). My eyes
thoroughly streamed: I was worried at this point that I was panda eyed, but
each canter was more exciting than the last, and after the nerves of wondering
about sitting to it for that first time, each one was more enjoyable as that
initial hurdle became further and further behind us.
One of the
next canter stretches was the big one: this one the leader asked if it was okay
if we went a bit faster this time. Faster, I thought? This pony can do faster
without galloping? I was excited, and a tiny bit nervous, but in an
anticipatory way rather than a frightened way.
We were told we'd walk under the stone bridge over our head and then
we'd take off: slowing down would take time, so the leader would make a hand
signal when she started to slow, and we had to pass it back to one
another. Her horse as usual literally
leapt into action: going from halt and leaping forward into canter. Without
touching Frankie she went like the proverbial crap off a stick: she was going
so fast, and keeping up with the horses so well (remembering there's a 18.2hh
ahead with a much bigger stride, also cantering quickly), I had to concentrate
on keeping my bum stuck to the saddle! What I really wanted to do was lighten
my seat: there was enough space to gallop, and it felt like she'd changed to a
four beat stride already. I just wanted to get off her back and let her move,
but didn't want to be a danger to the other riders in any way, by essentially
giving a visual gallop signal. Frankie weaved a bit to stay on the best ground,
and even with ducking and leaning to avoid the big ones I actually ended up
with leaves in my mouth! The end was on
a very slight hill, so I actually saw the leader raise her hand, which I didn't
expect. I literally didn't feel like I could let go on Frankie due to her
speed, so I turned my head and shouted to the woman behind me to slow up. It worked: we all came to a gradual and safe
stop. I wiped the stream of tears off my
cheeks, picked the leaves out of my mouth, and gave Frankie a big wither scratch.
That little pony blasted along, kept me on the best ground, and didn't let my
bum in the saddle (rather than above it) get in the way of her speed. That
canter/gallop stretch and this little Turbo Cob had given me some of the most
thrilling few moments of my life! I
don't consider my riding a thrill sport: I don't jump the kind of heights that
make even the best riders nervous, and I don't train race horses on gallops: I
predominantly school lazy horses in basic dressage. I felt like I finally saw
why some consider horse-riding a high-adrenaline, thrill-seeking sport, and I
adored it!
The last parts
of the ride were mostly through farms, and along B roads that only the farmers
and their visitors would ever be on. We met lots of sheep, which weirded out
one of the horses, and the most beautiful donkey I've ever seen who wanted to
say hello. Me and the lady behind said “Aww!” as soon as we saw him. We walked and trotted, and I took in the
view, as we were on a hill at this point and had a lovely, broad view of the
lands below. I tried leg yielding Frankie as she'd done so much of it without
being asked, but she didn't get it: she was trying to respond to the rein as a
directional aid, rather than a correction for the head as it were. I stopped
immediately: I just wanted to see if she knew how to do it when asked, and
while she might, she certainly didn't get it when I asked. That could be
because we were hacking though: she wasn't there for schooling, she was there
to have fun and copy the horses in front. She also wasn't generally responsive
to the rein, although I did get some nice bend work when walking through the
towns. I do wonder if she's used as a school pony as well as a hack, and what
she's like if she does! My experience of Welsh Ds is that they're forward
going, sharp and quirky. I couldn't tell with her as I wasn't giving aids: she
was making all the changes before I asked for them, and she was definitely
forward, but that may have been because she was enjoying it – her ears were
pricked the whole time, but not in an over-vigilant, spooky way.
I thought all
the cantering was over with, but the leader flagged up that we were to start
another one. The girl in front of me said it was the last, but that, of all the
hacking routes the yard could choose, this was the fastest, most fun/difficult
one that there is, and that was due to having one of the more fun leaders on a
speedy horse. I was pleased she thought
from looking at us all on the yard that we were capable of the tougher
route! As I knew this was the last one,
I really relaxed and enjoyed it. It was perfect: we hit not a single spiked
branch along the way, it was very fast but without getting to the point of
feeling the pressure to stand and allow the gallop so much more easily. It was a
perfect wind in the hair moment, and I was glad I knew it was the last so that
I could savour it.
Eventually we
came back to some narrow, muddy trails and I knew it must be another route down
to the river and to the yard. I have to say, every time I thought the hack must
be close to ending, we never seemed to hit familiar land. 2 hours really is a
great length of time to ride: it felt like plenty without being too much. When
we hit the familiar muddy trails, I wasn't disappointed. I felt like we'd seen
a lot, done a lot and we'd hit many more canter stretches than I'd expected. My
upper back was starting to stiffen, part from Frankie pulling a bit on occasion
when I needed to steer (though mostly I kept the contact relaxed and gave her
nothing to pull against), but mostly from maintaining my posture and also from
altering my balance backwards and forwards and the hill and the impending
branches called for it. The combination of satisfaction and discomfort
signalled a perfect stop. We had one
final trot through the narrow channel of mud where our trotting had began, and
then back to the river. Frankie took a
straighter path through the river this time, and I knew it would be good for
taking some of the mud off. Pulling up
on the yard, we were warned about getting off due to our feet being asleep. My
toes were definitely feeling it: I quite literally didn't let my heels up once,
as I knew I needed to stretch into that longer stirrup at all times to remain
glued into the saddle when my little tank raced off. I wiggled and turned them
for a couple of minutes, enjoying my last bit of time on Frankie. I then swung
my leg over and rather than jump off, slid down a bit so that the gap to the
ground wasn't as big. I really noticed how much shorter she is compared to
Guinness and Murphy though: the ground hit my feet sooner than I'd expected! I
felt bad for the woman on Theo: I think I would have dismounted him at the
stone-step mounting blocks, so I wouldn't be jumping down to earth from such a
great height with frozen toes!
Frankie didn't
seem very interested in me when I got off – she looked very distracted. I don't
know if that was me loosening her girth and running the stirrups up: if she
knew that mean bed time was just itching for a drink for instance. After a
lip-quivering wither scratch though she was very interested, and started to
interact with me. She nuzzled for a treat, but I didn't have any and I think
it's yard policy not to either. I got her saddle and breast plate off though,
and gave her a good scratch and rub, which she clearly enjoyed. David came to
take her away (she was being turned straight back out into her field), so I
gave her a pat, and off my little coblet went into the sunshine. I totally fell
in love with that little pony over those two hours. Sure, I was scraped through
some branches, but she'd looked after me totally: she always sought and found
the best ground but without motorbiking or harshly weaving, she never spooked
or misbehaved, she transitioned up as soon as the gap to the pony in front
allowed, and came back to me when I asked her with my seat and voice. I felt
much more a passenger than rider, but to me that was part of the joy: she had a
blast on the trot and canter sections, and was not bored by knowing what was
coming; rather the opposite in fact! She'd put up with my uneven trot with my
wonky stirrups, and didn't abuse the long rein I gave her for pretty much all
of the ride: when she did try to snatch reins I stopped her, and she never
tried to bend for grass like the others!
She only ate when things fell into her mouth: when branches of tasty
things were literally at mouth level. When that happened I gave her even more
rein to allow her to: I was feeling hungry, and I was doing much less of the
work!
I was
delighted to have had such a fun, fast but safe ride for my first, proper
hack. I was also pleased with myself: I
wasn't nervous about being in the big outdoors or riding a new horse, and was
comfortable enough straight away to trust the mare to take the safest paths, allowing
her the rein to move freely and use her neck fully for balance. Once upon a
time I'd have been too nervous to try that. I was also pleased that I didn't
let my stirrup get in the way, despite the fact that her paces could have
easily bounced me out of that little saddle. I was also delighted that I
enjoyed it so much: once upon a time I would have cried before those canter
stretches at the idea of 'no control' and a pony blasting away without any
aids. I loved Frankie for it! It was
definitely proof of how far my riding and confidence has come, and I know P
will be proud of me when I tell her about it. Her aim has always been for me to
get on any horse or pony with any way of going, and do anything on it, from
hacking on holiday, to taking it out jumping.
One thing I
did learn though: when I'm in a position to buy, I do want a horse that will
hack out, alone and in company. We came across a grey horse and rider, and when
it had to stop to let us cut across a different path it went nuts: rearing, leaping
and spinning. That looked like no fun whatsoever to be out alone with! I did
find myself caring about the quality of the paces though: I noticed when they
were collected or not and actively tried to do so in the towns. I noticed the
half-passes she did at a few stages, and all the leg yielding she naturally did
when navigating inconsistent footing. I do adore flatwork and schooling, so I
would definitely like a horse that I could learn more dressage on, and that we
could hack together when we just need to relax and let off steam. I loved Frankie's constantly pricked ears and
excited jogs: she clearly adored hacking. I'd love to make a horse that happy
some day too. Who knows: it might even end up as a livery horse on that yard
eventually! 80)
I got my back,
chatted to the YO's daughter who seems to be a manager or sorts, and left with
a smile and mud on my face. The yard's down the bottom of a steep hill, and the
lady that rode behind me offered me a lift up in in her pristine BMW: I was
tempted but couldn't bear the idea of dirtying it so said I was enjoying the
walk, but thanked her for the kind offer. The bus arrived at the stop within
minutes, and no sooner was I on it than the heavens opened. We really had got
the best weather of the day, missing the April showers. My current aches are
beautiful ones: a reminder of the fun I had with Frankie yesterday :) My
birthday's coming up in June: when anyone asks what I want, it'll definitely be
a voucher for another hack!
