24/6/12 Hit the Hutch!

(Disclaimer: this is an old Pizza Hut reference: no horses were hurt in the making of this blog post)!

I arrived at the yard early and in the sunshine, on a day previously predicted to be under constant drizzle. I was excited about hacking and was walking along smiling when I could hear the clip clop of many hooves trotting down the hill that leads to the yard. I took to the nearest driveway to stop and watch them pass: two of the yard girls were riding bareback and leading. One was on the Appaloosa gelding Dotty (totally a mare's name, I know) while leading Theo. The next to come along were a pair of horses I knew to see before I'd even visited the yard for the first time and had dreamt of riding: the giant grey brothers Starsky & Hutch. I knew there was a Common Ride that day, and as Starsky & Hutch are ride-out horses, I assumed that's what they were there for and why all four horses looked spotless (something I found odd as presumably they were being brought in from the field in their bridles)!

Anyway, the horses went out of sight and when I got onto the yard I saw Dotty being loaded onto a lorry, and could see several horses behind her including grey and chestnut faces. With Starsky, Hutch & Theo out of sight, I assumed they'd gone on first and while not surprised, was a little bit disappointed that they wouldn't be available for the hack. I saw Geoffrey, the rude coloured who tore up canter stretches on my last hack, go last in the lorry. I was glad he was away, but a bit bemused why was dirty and the others were clean. Always trust the horse with white patches to get a dirty rump!

After the usual long wait, I was first in the office and was met with “Have you booked? The YO really shouldn't have allowed a hack today with so many horses going to the Royal Highland Show; not everyone will get a horse. Don't know how we'll manage the river crossing either.” Luckily, not only was I first in but I was literally the only name in the book for the hack! The printed list of horses was produced, and the stable hands started to tick off who'd gone to the show, who was still turned out and so on. I said I'll ride anything but have only hacked Frankie, but no sooner had I spoke than “You're on Hutch!” was barked at me. I paid my money, left by bag and coat to be locked up, and went out nervous but beaming: I was riding one half of the infamous giant duo!

With only me and 3 other riders on the 2hr hack, I got chatting to all my fellow riders before getting aboard which was nice. I spoke with the Hispanic lady that rode Robbie on my marathon-day hack, a fine and forward looking horse that she spoke highly of. She said she was on Honey today and asked if I knew her: I said I didn't, but upon her coming out, I recognised her at the non-cobby version of Frankie in terms of colour, markings and height: the only pony I couldn't name from my second hack! The next horse to come out was for the man who rode Ransom on the first day I'd met both of them; I immediately recognised the horse as Starsky: - about 18hh of steel grey, carriage/light draft loveliness. No sooner could I admire him than out came Hutch: another 18 hh massive vision of steely grey loveliness.
I mounted up, and while the height was similar to Homer who I'd ridden the night before, the build and proportions were completely different. I couldn't believe how far back the saddle seemed, but that's because Hutch's shoulders were HUGE! I asked about Starsky & Hutch, asking if they were Percherons or Irish Drafts or similar. I found out that they were half brothers, both sharing the same Friesian sire. Now, as everyone knows, Friesians are my fave breed of horse in the whole entire world, and have been since I was a young kid, so I was very excited about riding a cross. It sort of made sense as well: I clearly couldn't see Hutch as I was on him almost as quickly as I saw him, but Starsky did look like a baroque Friesian, just on a larger scale and with a grey gene. (Starsky has exactly the same steel grey markings of another cross I know, a TB x Friesian, the TB mare being grey). I guess it is something like a grey Percheron or ID adding the extra height and thicker build t the boys, and it does make for a sexy combination (Irish Drafts also being another of my fave breeds, along with Clydies, Ardennais, Dales & Welsh Section Ds).

I chatted to Starsky's rider and we stroked and admired each other's horses, wondering how we'd sit to such powerful canters! We also spoke about Ransom, and the man told me Ransom's the joint tallest horse on the whole yard. Given that I was told that Theo is 18.2hh, Ransom must be at least 18.3hh! :0 I had thought when I saw him on my last hack that I'd underestimated his height quite a bit, but didn't want to overestimate it either because I hate when the kids all deliberately describe the pony or horse they were on as bigger than it actually was because height equals impressiveness to them. Turns out I was right: he is bigger than I said and either is or is near to 19hh. I've cantered a truly giant horse: no wonder it felt like it was in slow mo!

I was chatting this man's his wife too, who was riding a fine built bay pony called Stella, a new creature to me. Stella's sister is on the yard in the school too: the RS seems to know what it likes, picks its stallions, and snap up the youngstock at the right price to break when older. While her husband had never been on Starsky before, she had ridden Hutch last time and fallen off! That took me aback and I asked her what happened: she said the higher you are, the thicker the branches, and she'd grabbed one to stop it hitting her face, but it was too thick to budge so she stayed with the bough while Hutch went on! I admit I was worried: I've had some terrible hits while on Frankie, some so sore I was sure for several minutes I'd end up needing to get checked over in A&E. I was not looking forward to being up in the heavy stuff, especially given how wet the trees will were!

Having had most of the kids on the yard run up and pet my giant horse, the leader (a new one who hadn't taken me out before) asked me my name as she's never led me, and off she took us on Gandhi. I'm glad a decent pony was leading: Toby's leadership was far too stop and go last time. I started off 3rd after her and Starsky, and the little mares Honey and Stella followed. We all heard the river before we saw it: it wasn't that deep, but was flowing rather fast, so the ride leader (let's call her RL) told us to get our legs on. While Gandhi was forced to walk in an arc with the current, Hutch took me over in a straight line, and fairly athletically went for the step out! I pulled up after that until we waited for the 14hh mares to cross, and off we set.
The mud channel along the river was narrow and deep: it's quite dense wood, and with only a horse's width and a bit more clear to walk, there is a dense canopy of branches to navigate though from horseback: it's one of the places with the most face-smacks, that and two later canter stretches. We didn't trot along here as we normally do, holding off until on firmer ground. The trot came up quickly though, and while I got the hang of Hutch's trot straight away, it just didn't feel all that comfortable. I also learned that I could do rising trot while leant over a horse's neck like I was mid-air over a triple-bar fence! lol. Hutch's trot had its own great power, but didn't have the catapult action of Homer and his rounder WB paces. It's nothing like I ever remember riding before, and consequently I'm struggling for the words to describe it! It was not a high-kneed trot though: I was paying attention to see if Starsky or Hutch had that action from their sire, but no (a great looking movement for carriage horses, but bouncier to ride than the traditional straight knee-action).

I found my mind focusing on the canters though. I'd just experienced a new type of trot, and had no idea what canter would be like. I hadn't cantered Homer yet, and honestly haven't needed to: there's so much schooling to do and things we can both work on before going up a pace to apply them in canter! While I'd been fine sitting to Ransom's big strides, it was only for a few circuits of a school and didn't have the power a horse like Hutch can produce. I was glad we'd not gone the road-route out of the yard though: the first stretch of canter by the river is uphill, which is easier for balancing and feels thoroughly wonderful.
I saw the hill, and after we passed two dismounted horses, off we went. I was sat in the saddle and learning forwards, but found it so bouncy that I immediately took a light seat. Hutch's canter surprised me even then though: I was up out of the saddle, but the movement was so big that the saddle came up and hit me in the arse as I hadn't realised just how much adjustment I needed my knees to make! Just as I had a stride or two of being up and forwards without touching the saddle's seat again, we'd reached the top and were back in walk to allow the mares to catch up. On such a physically strong and solid horse, I'd was so impressed with the feeling of that big canter, although it did come with more nerves and fewer strides than on Frankie, Hutch's longer, fewer strides were covering the ground and having the same net effect.

I settled a bit after that canter stretch, but was nervous about a true canter on flat ground, with no hill to make things easier. The RL didn't help when she said to be very aware of branches on this stretch, and be prepared that the horses could try and jump the puddles. That totally put the wind up me: I am a perfectly capable jumper, but it's much easier to do when you know it's coming and what height the horse is going to jump. Not knowing whether Hutch would jump and what height he'd use to clear puddles more than a meter across made me nervous. I quickly decided I wasn't sitting to this canter: I was riding it in the two-point position, which would help with tree-dodging, and would lead to faster and easier adjustment into the correctly angled jump position if suddenly necessary.
None of the horses jumped the puddles in the end, and I really enjoyed the canter: out of the saddle I was comfortable, wasn't phased by the changes in direction to avoid puddles, and didn't feel nervous about cantering unseen when I had to put the top of my hat in a vertical position to take the brunt of the branches. I had a total blast, and Hutch had maintained a lovely rhythm, albeit falling behind Starsky. Honey and rider asked to overtake at this point, and I was happy to let them past: it made sense for the faster pony to go ahead of the steadier horse. The married woman on Stella was finding the mare uncomfortably bouncy (I could hear her footfalls in trot happening twice as often as Hutch's), so she was happy to be behind a slower horse to try and steady her a bit. This did mean that she was in the splash zone from Hutch's weight hitting the ground with those dinner plate feet of his though: even then she didn't take up my offer of passing by! lol.

I decided that come hell or high water, I was having a good go at sitting to Hutch's canter on the next stretch. I immediately felt that I wanted my stirrups shorter when I sat, and in stretching for them I felt my lower leg go forward. I was back in safety zone: when nervous on a big horse and/or stirrups not ideal, lower leg goes forward and heel goes further down. I brought my leg back to the correct position to prove I could do it, and having held that didn't find it hugely comfortable. I made the decision to let them forward: that effective rather than correct riding was more appropriate out hacking, and having the control to turn it on and off means I wouldn't beat myself up about it. My leg was correct when in a light seat too. I did trot with my leg correct though, even though it did take that bit extra effort in my slightly longer-than-usual stirrups. All in all, I wasn't too unhappy about it even if it's not correct.

After this canter, the last of my nerves had completely disappeared. I also came to the realisation that actually nerves and confidence are not two extremes of one spectrum, but are in independent: my brain had been nervous, but I rode assuredly and without fear of falling as I'd secured myself and knew how to cope. I was happy to learn that I could sit to the canter, but also that being out of the saddle like a jockey was more comfortable on this horse and had secure enough legs and balance to maintain it without nerves or wobbles. I found slowing quite funny too: while it was always gradual rather tha sudden, it felt like I was experiencing G-forces in the saddle, a bit like an airplane air-breaking on the runway, but without any threat of me going out Hutch's front door. I was enjoying the trots more and more as time went on too, but still found his trot less comfortable relative to other horses.
We passed quite a few pedestrians whilst walking and trotting, all of which were polite and respectful (as we were in return), always putting their dogs on leads when they heard or saw us and saying “You're welcome” to our thank yous. Starsky and Hutch drew lots of comments and most of the attention, mostly how massive they were, and how they looked like twins. One Asian mother and daughter even took photos of us parading through town! I hope I accidentally come across those photos on facebook some day, but I don't fancy my chances! Lol. I also noticed something in towns that made me laugh: while with Frankie I'd often have to swing my heels toward my bum to avoid wing-mirrors, I was so high up on Hutch that the soles of my feet totally cleared all wing-mirrors, even on a people carrier with higher-set wing-mirrors! The same thing happened with fence posts: with Frankie I either had to work hard to adjust her or tuck my feet up to avoid them, but my feet were above them on Hutch. That really put things into proportion for me!

I should probably mention that Hutch is a head-shaker: even from when I'd seen him ridden bareback onto the yard, he was tossing his nose up and down. I always ignore head-tossing while riding, and wasn't prepared to hold too much contact so that he'd sock himself in the mouth (he had no martingale on), and I didn't want to be yanked on either. I therefore rode him in a 'Western' contact for most of the ride after that 3rd canter when the last of my nerves dissolved. I always took up a contact during road-work for safety's sake and for trotting and cantering, but otherwise I let him fidget along. In truth, it was easier to hold the buckle too: Hutch's neck was so long that even with a good contact, my hands never made it as far as the rubber grip of the rein, only ever to the leather junction where the rubber grips joined the reins! I felt totally safe though: I had no concern that he would spook or try it on, and I never rode on the buckle in any more than walk: he only head-tossed in walk too, so I needed only to make sure I didn't carry tension in the contact whilst moving faster, and I didn't. I used riding on the buckle and his non-forward cut saddle (backwards cut doesn't sound like the correct adjective) as a chance to put my hands over his whithers and spine, and literally feel the movement of his should blades. The length of their stroke was incredible: the degree of movement was beautiful, and I followed every feel of this movement with a wither scratch for generally being such a calm and sexy beast!

I was very aware on this hack as I was the lesson before about maintaining a firm core and really letting the horse move me as M had said on my birthday. I couldn't quite believe how much Hutch's walk shifted my pelvis. When I was really engaging my core, and I do mean engaging: I don't mean just sitting up straight and tall but actually adjusting the alignment of hips, I found I made contact with the saddle in a different way, using less anterior pubic bones and more buttocks. It felt like my seat was deep, and I really want to get feedback on it in my next lesson: to check that this realignment is more correct and classical. There was only one problem though: I was tiring my core out, and with the longest, fastest canter stretch I'd ever done coming up as a surprise, I was about to fatigue them!

On the woodland steps after having spent quite a while riding with core actively and very consciously stabilised, the leader asked me if I'd been this route before. I told her that not only did I know what was coming, but I had gotten rather good at the occasional sliding stop! She laughed, and said that although I'd never been out with her, she had thought from my riding that I was experienced on this route already. This leader was to do things a bit differently though: usually at the bottom of the steps we go for a nice steady canter, then a walk to the stone-tunnels, and then started the fast-stretch there. With so few pedestrians outside of the towns, the fast stretch started as soon as the steps ended this time. I had my plan of attack ready: I would be out of the saddle again for this (as I'd planned in my head to try with Frankie if I'd had her that day and had already found Hutch and I preferred it) and that I would totally relax and enjoy the best bit of the day. Hutch didn't need the aid for canter this time: he took off, and I adored the extra speed he gave. He did not keep up with Honey though: she was doing a Frankie and tearing it up with her rider sat astride, and with the room ahead of us it was all I could do not to put my leg up and ask for gallop. Having spent so much time out of the saddle in canter, knowing I was balanced there even with my eyes pointing at the ground while my hat broke through heavy tree boughs, I had no fear. I knew it must be clear of foot traffic ahead too, as the front horses were still cantering. I resisted though: I knew it was irresponsible, even if I had given Hutch loads of room to come back to me. The woman behind was not enjoying Stella's choppy stride, and had finally taken my advice to stand up through the canter to make it more comfortable: I'm sure that little pony would have galloped too, and that wasn't fair or safe. I did enjoy picking up the pace to catch up though: it was a total thrill to cover the ground so fast, but with much fewer strides than Frankie, making it much more comfortable.

The rest of the ride was sedate: we did some trot work on roads and lanes, but the stretches didn't last as long as with L. We definitely walked more than I'm used to, so saw a bit less of the land, but on such a beautiful morning and with walking being so comfortable, I was happy. The noise of Hutch's footfalls on that open valley bridge and through those two tunnels, as well as the waterfall bridge with such fast water levels made for wonderful sounds too (though Hutch was so big if I fell off him, I could have fallen off the bridges: an impossibility from little Frankie)! I am used to having one final canter after the fast-stretch though, and when we got to usual point, we stayed in walk. I was gutted: I wanted one more canter before I was done. I think where else we could have a last canter instead, and even part of the trot trail had to be walked on the way back because of the ground. We got back onto the narrow, winding path alongside the river, the usual final trot point. Much to my surprise, RL then asked if we were happy to canter this stretch but were free to say no as the foliage made it a bit hazardous for me and the man on Starsky. I was game, he was too, so off we set, and I was grinning! I had to ask 3 times for canter: Hutch was not used to cantering here and was not keen on the idea. A firm boot and strong voice and up he went, and after taking a bit wet smack of rain-covered tree in the face, I spent the rest of the canter laughing with the top of my hat pointing forward. I did discover a new problem though: riding with your head horizontal means water from trees go down your neck and back: yuck! lol. We soon came to the little S-bend and Hutch broke into trot: I wasn't keen on cantering it either, so was quite glad he slowed without asking. With voice alone he transitioned up again after the bend, and off we went tearing through the mud. My place was splashed to buggery, as was the lady's behind (more because of Hutch's splashing than Stella's, poor woman), but we were all smiles. The river crossing was smooth, and I thought he probably needed it as his legs couldn't have been grey any more! Lol.

I spent some time comparing and contrasting horses. Hutch was kind, steady, pretty bomb-proof, a harmless head-tosser and a bit lazy (I often had to work to get a canter: he only offered it once, and often took repeat aids). He was a confidence giver, and I'd recommend him to anyone with the addendum that sitting to his canter was not an easy or comfortable experience at first. Starsky was nappy at points, always motivated by grass and turning away from home, but was clearly a faster, more forward ride. If available again, I'd definitely give Starsky a go – he didn't buck, rear or spin when being brought out of his naps. Frankie in comparison is forward, has short and choppy strides, but if you're used to little horses are easy to ride, and comfy. The only time she feels uncomfortable is that final canter stretch, where her footfalls are so frequent. She's great for any competent rider that can keep their balance and adapt to short strides well, but is a bit speedy for a beginner and I would not put my granny on her unless she was a very competent canter-er! Frankie is heavier in the hand and needs more contact: you can't ride her on the buckle for example, if you're walking in what's usually a trot stretch. She is an ideal hacker though: leads or follows, and transitions up without any encouragement, but will come back to you if you ask (she just doesn't like to be asked)! Lol. I do wonder if I'll ever be lucky enough to be hacking again when Starsky & Hutch are in from the field and are not ear-marked for a Common Ride instead!

We arrived back on the yard, and I hopped off. I went to run the stirrups up, but they were so filthy and grainy from mud, I refused to dirty the saddle with him. I turned to pat Hutch and he tried to use me as a scratching post! I hate that: it's bad manners and he's too big a horse to push against someone. I did very happily scratch his itch with my fingers though, and I could almost feel his relief! I got a quite but appreciated stroke and scratch with him, and then a young boy, maybe about 13 took the reins. (The older, regular grooms had gone to the show with the horses). His response when he saw us was “Fuck me, you brought us back a black horse!” lol. My big horse was whipped away, while I bid him farewell and went in search of my bag and the baby wipes within it. I was mud splattered head to toe: I couldn't change my clothes before the bus, but I could clean my face and hands at least!
I'd had a fab ride. I was pleased that I'd conquered my nerves about cantering so quickly, and that by standing up to canter, I enjoyed things more, really got my gallop confidence up, and genuinely now feel prepared for any size of build of horse thrown at me; I won't turn Theo or Ransom down for a hack just because of their height. I was also delighted to have ridden a few dream horses rolled into one: a Friesian, a draft horse, and of course being my fave colour was the icing on the cake. I thought I would be too short and not heavy enough to ever 'qualify' for taking one of their giants out when I first began riding there, so I'd written off Starsky and Hutch even though I'd fallen for them just from their photographs. I don't think I'd ever ridden a horse who's name and reputation preceded them before: I loved him, and he was so gentle I'd put my granny on him (if I had one)! I think me and Tom could have a great time on them: Tom felt a bit precarious on Murphy because he was narrow with so little there. I actually think he'd feel better higher up on a solidly built horse: I certainly don't notice or get bothered by the height, and I think he'd forget too. Shame I didn't get a Groupon voucher for him! lol. So, when can I justify spending the rest of my money on the next one?! Lol.

Here's a photo of Starsky & Hutch on a common ride: they are steel/rose grey here, but are dappling and pailing out on their necks and faces now. The photo's from the YM's daughter who said "Starskey and Hutch out on a common ride. These 2 were not the easiest to back as they were over 17.2 at 3 years old once i worked out how to get above them they turned into the lovliest horses." These are two grown men on them, so I hope that gives some idea of scale! Hutch is in the bac, Starskey's in the fore.

Thrills and Spills Part I: The Spills

Marie's blog-post about her first fall the other day got me thinking: when was my first fall, and just how many have I had over the years? The answer is, I'm really not sure! This is a quick journey through all the falls I can remember: unless I was bounced off a pony without imjury as a kid, I do think that this is them all. I've included photos where I can, but my old pony pics need scanned from home - a job for my next visit I think!

I started riding aged about 7, at Yard 1 in N. Ireland. I rode a 12hh Welsh A mare called Misty, a 13hh or so gelding called Coco, a gently dark bay mare called Star, and even a 14hh mare called Snowy, who seemed impossibly tall to a little kid like me. While I remember my big sister falling off Rocky during her first ever attempt to canter, I have no recollection at falling whatsoever at this school. However, the owner's name was called into question regarding cruelty and the yard closed. With it, my riding as a young kid ended, despite  my Xmas gifts from Santa being this excellent Harry Hall clobber:

After Yard 1 shut, I had a one off lesson in a little RS 10mins from home, a new yard on the block. I was on a buckskin pony called Billy, presumably a Welshy or a cross in reflection. The arena was essentially a circled clearing in a forest, with a gate at one side and a rope tied to all the trees to mark the perimeter. Billy felt like running off for a forest feed at one point, took off with me, and because he could fit under, I grabbed the rope on the way through and was left swinging like a monkey from the perimeter rope while he filled his belly on the forest floor. Even as a nervous child, I remember finding this hilarious! I got back on, but the lesson was pretty much over by that time, and the RI was a bit uncomfortable doing much more knowing that Billy could easily get out and I wasn’t strong enough to hold him. For whatever reason, Dad never took us back there.

I'd always had the riding bug, and with my best friend volunteering at a slightly further away yard in N.I., I joined her the yard in my early teens first as a RS student and later as a Saturday worker who was 'paid' in lessons. There I rode lots of ponies at first: Starlit the piggy Appaloosa cross (who once, when accidentally put on high energy mix as it was the same make as low-energy mix, got down in the arena with her rider on, and once the kid stood up and moved, rolled like a tacld-up pig in mid); the fast flea-bitten grey Theo; the dapple grey bucking Connemara Tir Na Nog (pronounced Tier-Na-Nogue for any non-Celtic speakers reading); the brown and speedy mare Whorlie; the golden oldie Downey; the pop can-drinking 14.2hh cremello Polo and the black Dales/Welsh D cross Millie. In no time at all I was riding not ponies  but horses too aged 13 or so: I rode Ruffy the bright bay 16.2hh ex-broodmare that no one else seemed to ride; Zula the gentle giant Irish Draft (about 18hh and feet like dinner plates); Molly the nervy dark bay and Prince the lazy bright bay, both about 16.1hh. I even rode Stout the Shetland once because he was being a prick and needed an older rider to show him what was what!

At this, my main childhood yard, I had many falls. The funniest was off Stout the Shetland: I got the little bugger flying around the school rather than being his usual lazy self. Upon bringing him to the middle of the arena in trot to reach a stop, he suddenly threw the breaks on, and with no neck or anything in front of me, I tumbled forward off his shoulders. I thought it was hilarious, as did everyone else, and had not even a bruise to show for it!

The first fall I received a score for was from Zula, the giant orange ID. I was turning her onto the centre line from C, and she tripped over her dinner-plate feet and went down on her knees, booting me out the front door. I scored two out of five for the fun nature of my tumble, but it lacked the 'spectacular factor', so was never going to get any higher a score than that.

The most public fall I had was off Millie the 14.2 sharp turbo cob: I was riding her in a county show-jumping competition and there was her bogey fence on the course, a water ditch.  Try as I might, all the leg in the world was not getting her over it and she dumped me right in the spread (thankfully the ditch was dry). I completely demolished it, and refused to put her over another jump in the arena once I'd got back on; I was too embarrassed and wanted to do it in the warm up arena. I did the latter, but this is probably the fall that really put my competition nerves on a whole new level; I never took part in any shows again.

The sorest and scariest fall I ever had was off Ruffy: the forward-going ex-broodmare, who no one rode as far as I ever knew. She seemed to be in a state of constant roundness: she wasn't even that fat, but had a slack abdomen after having had several foals. I loved her nature and character, and itching to ride a big horse that wasn't as wooden and quiet as Zula. I was allowed to ride Ruffy each week and took great pleasure in it.

Living out full time as all the RS ponies did, and ridden once a week by me, Ruffy could be very fresh. We were having a jumping lesson that day, and as it was the evening before a local show, lots of the jumps were already up. After doing some canter poles, Ruffy took off in excitement: she cantered full pelt around the arena and was not listening to my hands or seat. I lost my stirrups, and while I stayed up there an impressive amount of time at that speed, I finally fell on the canter poles, and somehow she dragged me along over one. I'd taken two hooves to the body while under her: one to the cheek bone of my face and one to my right hip. I was black and blue with a giant shiner to boot, and was told if Ruffy's stride had caught me a few inches different, I could have had some major damage.  That really knocked my confidence; despite the fact that I worked to ride, I worked for three weeks without taking my lesson. My RI finally made me get back on, so I took Millie, and it took me a few lessons to really get over the fall and its effects on my nerves. I went back and rode Ruffy again, and still enjoyed her, but always with nervous butterflies in my stomach.

At my current yard in Scotland, I've had quite a few falls, my last one almost a year ago. I've fallen off Bailey twice: on my third lesson back riding after a 10year gap or so, he moved when I mounted, so as I got on I went right over the other side, somersaulting and landing on my left hip. It hurt for almost 6 months after and I had to switch my running for more cycling; I almost couldn't walk home from the bus station that might in fact. In retrospect, I should not have got back on and do a jumping lesson – I should have gone to A&E that night, and had some follow-up physio to get over it. I guess from being a paramedic’s daughter, you never feel like you want to put any emergency medics unless you’re bleeding profusely!

The second fall off Bailey was not long later, maybe a week or two: he refused a double outdoors because I wasn’t being firm enough, and I hadn’t developed the balance to stay on. I was much more embarrassed than bruised, so got back on and rode with such conviction that he never tried it on again. That helped me get my “Grr!” back: to stop being so soft and just asking – to actually firmly tell when the gentle ask doesn’t work.

Bailey-boo and I:

I've fallen off Harry twice, both refusals and dodges of jumps. One of those times was optional: I was on his neck from the sudden stop, paranoid about my weight being there, so chose to dive and roll. My head and lower back hit the ground, and while I was sore for a couple days around my neck and hip afterwards, both were fine and were a reflection of my low jumping confidence hang-over from my teenage years.

Harry:

*New story: I completely forgotten that I had fallen off a 14.1hh blue & white connemarra called Spencer! It wasn't until I was looking through my yard photos and saw a pic of him that I remembered.

Spencer was an abuse case: he'd been mistreated in a previous home, and while he was a total love-bug over his door, and I was excited to ride him after many weeks of cuddles, he is a nervy horse to ride, especially when a crop was used. He was young too, maybe 6, and had a lot to learn, especially not to run through canter transitions with a fast trot. He' been in my lessons before, I saw his weaknesses, and I was confident I could be sensitive to them an school him well.

P told me to tack him up and bring him into the indoor. While strictly speaking you're not meant to mount alone, P always tells me to get on up and warm-up to make the most of teaching time. I'd never seen any problems with Spencer so much as wander at being mounted before, so went to do it. I got one foot in the stirrup, put my weight in my foot to get over his back and he went into a bucking fit, running away as far as he could get. I saw that as a fear response, but with patience I got him back to me rather than me grabbing hold of him, and waited for P while I reassured Spencer.

I told P what happened, but I was willing to try again as Spencer seemed more settled. She held his reins, and this time I was in the process of getting astride, and before my bum touched the seat, boom he did it again. P said I might have touched his rump with my crop: bollocks. I always get up with my crop in my left hand, holding the reins. I also knew Spencer's rear-end was his trigger so was careful never to touch it. I told P I wasn't happy to try a third time: Spencer was clearly giving me a message, and I was listening before I'd done more than bruise myself. I don't know if my voice (he was abused in Ireland and I have a NI accent) or my build set him off and reminded him of his abusive rider, but I never pushed it. He's shot my nerves too, so I took him back, rugged him up, had a cuddle and then readid Guinness instead.

A few months later, after a groom working almost every day with Spencer, a switch-flipped in him, and he bolted and bronced dangerously with her. Having become unpredictable with someone he trusted, the groom labelled him as unrideable and we were told he was sold as a companion pony. The kids believe he went to meat (and to me, there's much worse fates than a kind death for problem horses that can get pushed from pillar to post and be abused 20yrs before their life is over).

I am still counting this as never-having been bucked off a pony before, as strictly speaking I was never fully on Spencer! lol.

Spencer, taken the very night I almost rode him:

I fell once off Spot, the pony my friend T ended up buying and moving to a new yard. His saddle wasn’t really long enough to accommodate my currently over-ample bottom, and while I can ride bouncy ponies, I struggled to fell comfortable about it in that saddle. The canter was on springs, but when he took off to catch up with the other two riders halfway around the school, I was bounced out of the little saddle via the sidedoor when he motorbiked around the corner. I was too sore to get back on, and sat on the ground for several minutes with pain in my neck and hip where I’d taken knocks. I was annoyed, because I’d not fallen off a horse tanking about since I was a kid on Billy; I’d sat them all at this RS until Spot. I never got a second chance to ride him again as he left the RS shortly after, but given that his back wasn’t going to get longer to accommodate a bigger saddle, I wasn’t kicking myself about it!

Spotty-licious:

The most serious fall I had was from Troy, or Big Ginger as he was known at the time. We were riding in the big outdoors (a derby sand paddock to give you an idea of scale) and as my first time out there with him and one of his first times in that arena full stop, I was nervous about him potentially taking off and pissing about. I carried that tension in my hands too: we had a proper full-length SJ course to do  and while we jumped some with ease, others he refused, which was a result of me not really wanting to jump them in the first place, my contact being too firm and Troy being a horse that totally mirrors his rider's feelings without fail.  One jump had us stuck: a 70cm or so rustic with metal filler. The first three times I could feel him backing off it and knew a refusal was coming. The final time though he was much more forward, my hands were softer, so I was sure we were going over. Just at the take-off point I was in the process of lightening my seat, boom - Troy dodged out. I went off his left shoulder, turned over, in the air and whacked my lower back/upper buttock on the jump. Troy's reins had also snapped as I was still holding onto them and the weak point in them had gone. I got up immediately, feeling the sting in my upper buttock and knowing that's where I was going to hurt the next day. I walked Troy over to the mounting block and asked if I could get new reins and get back on, but not jump: I wanted to end on a positive note for both of us and clearly I wasn’t in the frame of mind to jump Troy Boy in such a big, open space yet.

While walking away to get new reins, a livery shouted that I was bleeding. I looked around and I could see into my buttock. I turned to P and said “Damn, this means I'm going to have a long wait in A&E, doesn't it?” I walked back to the office, and P made me fill out the accident report form (which she told me a fortnight later was to distract me). I felt nauseous from the shock for a few minutes, but once that disappeared I was unbelievably fine. Everyone asked me how I was, I said grand – I didn't hurt and a few stiches would fix me. My friend took me to the community hospital, where they bandaged me and told me to go to A&E as they weren’t skilled enough at the stitching I would need (possibly some internals). We stopped at my friend's house to get some supplies, and at mine to pick up some reading and my MP3 player. I also saw Tom, told him I was fine (having lied to him earlier: I texted to say I’d be late home as a friend fell, was fine, but needed to be checked out at A&E) and said didn't need to come with me; he saw me laughing and joking, what a great colour I was as well as the form I was in, so he didn't bother. We also stopped at the yard on the way to A&E: everyone was delighting to see my smiling and laughing, and they showed me the jump cup I had landed on, which had a couple on inches deep of my tissue still stuck to it. Nice!

Anyway, having been stiched up in A&E, those 9 stitches torn out in anger at the numpty junior doctor Norman for doing a bad job, 2 senior doctors assess me, and 12 new stiches in from the A&E consultant (with an audience at my arse, as this became a teaching exercise for Norman the Numpty and nurses), I was out of A&E 6hrs after it happened, never any pain relief bar local lidocaine in the wound 4hrs after my fall to get my stitches put in.  Here's the photos of my jods, which I was told looked like I'd been shot, and my cup-shaped scar (no, my ass is not on show, so fear not):

*NEW STORY: my third time or so on Troy, I took part in a group jumping lesson in the small outdoor paddock (not the derby ring). Troy had proven himself a keen jumper, carrying me enthusiastically to the fence without towing me, and prepared to canter jumps the RS ponies only deigned worthy of a trot. All went well until I had a course to do that involved a skinny. Out of nowhere, Troy refused, I came off his left shoulder, landed on my feet with reins in hand  and no yank along the way. I giggled like a school girl, took a bow, got straight back on and did the whole course with ease. It's not a bit of wonder I forgot this one: it didn't really feel like a fall, just an unscheduled dismount! lol.

Troy-Boy himself:

I was riding a month later, jumping 6 weeks later and had no residual confidence issues. My only issue was that I wanted to ride Troy again to have a success on him and make sure I didn't have horse-specific nerves: he was leased out before I got back in the saddle and has been since, so I never got to do that. It's a long-gone urge now however. *UPDATE: his rider announced yesterday that she’s terminatining her lease on 30^th of the month, so looks like I could end up back on the Ginga Ninja soon!

My next fall, and also my last fall (touch wood) was jumping in that big outdoor with Guinness.  Guinness quite often likes to pretty much gallop at fences when he’s in the big paddock, especially those towards the gate. I had been having a whale of a time jumping fairly big fences at warp speed. We reach the top of the paddock and needed to turn essentially 180 to go down over a double. Despite a gentle, wide turn, Guinness totally died out on me very suddenly (as we weren't facing home anymore), and this sudden slowing plus his refusal to jump put me in the fence. I hit my hand and it fecking hurt: I struggled to move my fingers but persisted as I knew I had to get my range of motion back. I got back on, still smiling, popped a few more jumps and finished on a high. It is my one and only fall of Pooh.

Three weeks later though, I noticed a boney node my sore hand, in the direction that I'd hit it. A nurse friend said it was likely broken but I had full movement, so don't bother with an Xray and treatment. I was beyond strapping, and it didn't need broken and reseat because it worked fine. I was almost glad: I knew I wasn't being a wuss and my hand was ridiculously sore, and no harm done really. It's not as stuck-out anymore now either, so all's well that ends well.

Guinea-pooh:

UPDATE

Since writing but not posting this blog last week, I have subsequently fallen, my first in nearly a year. I was riding Homer, a generally unspooky horse, but who had freaked out a bit at a kid playing on a quad bike while I walked him in-hand before the lesson. The kid soon stopped once I was on, and Homer seemed to have settled – he wasn't edgy or on his toes. I was also riding him better than ever, doing some brilliant circles (actually circle shaped with inside bend), and generally in sync with him. I was not expecting this to be  a lesson where I'd fall off! Lol.

Having been lazy and not very responsive to the leg, P. gave me a crop and Homer livened up: I didn't use it even once, as he immediately decided it was better to listen to my leg. After about 10mins of this better work with the crop in-hand, I was doing a forward, active working trot, and while we were passing the entrance/exit to the otherwise enclosed school, Homer freaked out with no warning or cause visible to me, leading and running to the right while I sort of stayed I  the same airspace, though with a horse no longer under me, I fell! Lol. My outside of my lower left leg hit the ground first and took the weight: I went to get up immediately to show I was fine but P told me not to, so I rolled to sit upright, poked my leg and wiggled my toes, declared myself merely bruised and got back up. Homer looked totally bemused: he clearly didn't mean to put me on the ground, was checking P's hand for fear, and was quick to nuzzle and check me over. I know I'm anthropomorphising, but it seem like he was saying sorry and checking up on me. As soon as I could convince P I was fine, I got back on, did some nice active trot work and warmed down. I was annoyed that we'd started late due to someone else: it meant I couldn't catch up the lost riding time, and that I didn't have time to untack, rug up and ready Homer for bed. I walked to the bus stop much more annoyed that my riding was curtailed than I was sore! Lol. I did however strain my right thumb on the rein, and in the days after it is turning out to be one of the most pathetic sounding, but most painful and debilitating injuries I've ever had. D'oh! Still, it didn't stop me from hacking a giant horse out the next day.

Homer:

Anyhow, that's the spills (some of them thrilling, some not so much). I expect my next bought of insomnia to be the time where I write a  blog entry on my biggest thrills while horse riding :)

Why not do the same yourself? I'd love to see Thrills & Spills posts everywhere on Haynet!

17/6/12 Leader of the Gang

Today was an eventful hack. I arrived early at the yard and it was raining: not heavily, more of a mizzling in fact. I made friends with the dogs as usual, dandered around some of the boxes, and went back to the office to wait. I heard someone say that with such poor ground, there wasn't likely to be much cantering going on out on the hack – maybe one stretch of it in fact. I was all set up to ask for a different horse to try, maybe even taking Ransom out and seeing how much more I can enjoy him without the nerves and with shorter stirrups, until I heard this. A combination of not getting much chance to canter with the horse, and the sure-footedness of the Welsh D Frankie, I decided asking for the Turbo Cob to make it a clean sweep. Getting into the office, the approach was to ask for a horse, and if they'd been brought in, we could have them. I was asked who I wanted and said I didn't know lots of the horses, am happy riding anything that isn't stupidly spooky and had been on Frankie twice. I was told she was in and that was it: I snapped her up!

I waited and Frankie was the first horse of the eight to come out. She looked gorgeous: her rear end has muscled up these past 3 weeks, so she looked toned and fab. The rain had also made her mane go all crimped and curly; it was unbelievably gorgeous!  I got on, fussed over her, and with so many horses in the main yard (two lessons and 8 of us hacking all mounting at once), I moved her towards the exit we normally take to hack. This was a mistake: Frankie was raring to go and would barely stand still knowing we were heading off the yard. I also did this so I wouldn't be near the back of the pack: I wanted to hear the lead rider for a change and enjoy a bit of chat. However, because all the rain has made the river uncrossable, we left the yard via the other side, meaning I was near the end by having moved Frankie. The only horse behind me was Ransom (who really is huge: I didn't appreciate just how much until I saw him again today. I'm not sure he is 17.2hh, I think he might be more with his mile long legs and wither). I can't believe looking back that I just got on and didn't think about it. Definitely an advantage of waiting for your horse whilst stood at the mounting block: no time to notice or think about size! lol.

I start the ride in 7^th place and spent most of the beginning reassuring the lady on Ransom behind me that he was fine to ride. She owns a 14.2hh pony that's over 30, so she only pootles about a bit on occasion. She'd never ridden a big horse before, and was struggling with his head carriage, wishing he had a martingale on. I suggested lowering her hands as I found he followed them and was grand in a lesson, and that while his trot could feel odd at times (occasionally a bit passagey from his spring hock, feeling a more upwards than forwards if on the wrong diagonal or beat), his canter was uphill and easy to sit to, feeling like it's happening in slow motion. L also told us that Ransom only has one working nostril, so doesn't get as much air or as efficiently as other horses. I have to say, I'm rather glad the RS have him and know his limits:  a lot of buyers would be put off if he was in the private market, and I've seen owners put their horses for less, fearing they'll never be able to be active enough to enjoy life. This horse definitely does, and L says he is in fact cracking to have for a Common Ride as he adores the sights, sounds and speeds!

Only moments from the yard and in town, Frankie was playing with the bit and seeking the contact without any pressure from me. I made the most of this and asked her to work in an outline: I rode the Turbo Cob through the town on the vertical, her working beautifully under me in walk and trot. I was pleased and wished I could see it from the ground: I bet she looked like a ridiculous fitty at the time!  Having learned the yard don't work horses on an outline, I only did this for a few minutes, and only ever put her in an outline when she'd almost put herself there already, making the most of her seeking the contact like that. The first few strides of trot felt like I was in the Shetland Grand National though: with Homer as my muscle's most recent memory from only the night before, the beats seemed almost laughably close together!  About 4 strides and I had it though: while my body registered the huge difference and marked it out to me, it didn't stop me from immediately settling into it.

Given that I thought it was going to be a mostly trotting hack, the first canter came up quickly! It wasn't long before I went face-first into a giant branch. (I don't mean the tiny, fine leafy ones at the end of the tree: I mean the solid branches that provide the fork structure for the end branches). There was an incredible amount of water that got me in the face and neck, and I'd been so thoroughly whacked my face didn't feel quite right. There was even leaf litter on my glasses! I couldn't see a thing: I cantered Frankie blind the rest of that stretch, thankful that it didn't involve a lot of unseen puddle dodges and wasn't at full pelt.  I tried to clear my glasses when I got to walk but it was all a smear. Note to self: while glasses make for great goggle-like eye protection when riding dry, even when not raining, trees remain wet and will obscure vision in a blink. Contact lenses and a scratched cornea are worth the risk to see clearly I think! lol.

I made sure the woman on Ransom was okay behind me after the canter. I'd been worried that maybe she might come off, in which case Ransom's excitedness suggested that he could well have galloped to the front of the ride without her. That was not an enticing idea for my mind to conjur up when I couldn’t see, but a very fleeting one that never came to fruition thankfully. Frankie was being very mare-ish about her space though (something she wasn't on our first hack togehter) and at the end of the canter, where the gradient of the ground varied, she let out one of the filthiest big bucks I've ever sat. I think Guinness' buck when we turned towards his first jump after a couple of months out of work is the only one I've sat that's bigger, but that's because he's bigger and that was excitement not filth. I was delighted that there was absolutely no risk of it shifting me: I was secure in the saddle, leg under me (not crept forward: I've been keeping an eye since my dressage lesson and was very careful to canter with my leg and heel correct) but it was still a surprise. The order of the hack changed a bit then: I overtook the fat pony ridden by the 10yr old in front and moved from 7^th to 6^th.

The yard member leading the ride, L, was riding the 5yr old pony Toby. From the start he had been nappy, spinning and bucking at right angles when touched with the crop. The rider had lost her crop in the first town trying to stop him turning at 90 degrees and bucking towards traffic, so we stopped to pick a long enough branch to use as a schooling whip.  Frankie used this opportunity to pick her own branch for leaf stripping, causing a personal rain shower over me! lol. L had originally turned my crop down as she needed a schooling whip for Toby’s back end, but after two overly bendy sticks, she was glad of it!  There was a point soon after though where, out of nowhere, all I could hear was “follow Frankie!” The two now behind me were falling back, so I waited for them and lead them in canter back to the first group.  We very soon after came to the long, high bridge through the valley and Toby was having none of it. I asked L if she wanted a lead and she said she'd probably need it for this. Ransom was nearer but the energy from Toby has transferred to him, making him dance around, so I set off over the bridge. L moved Toby up to retake the lead and as soon as he was level with me and Frankie, he napped, she tapped him, he turned 90oC to take up almost all of the width of the bridge and bucked. My right leg was squeezed between both the horses, and Frankie wasn't happy being behind him so she listened to my leg and put the pressure on to literally squeeze past; it worked, and Toby immediately followed.

All through the ride, this same cycle occured; Toby acted like a tool so I took the lead (often by battling past), calling for downwards transitions with voice and hand signals when I saw pedestrians and making all turning signals in road work. L was happy following for a little while to try and settle Toby. He better when trotting or cantering typically, but napped horrendously in walk, so it wasn’t laziness driving his actions, but sheer opinionated, naughty baby behaviour. When he did come up for the lead though, Frankie took it as a race and I had to control my rise for Toby to ever make it past. His next trick was then spooking: he would go from trotting to a dead stop without warning. Frankie read him perfectly, and while the stops were sudden, she never slipped and I never felt insecure or thrown harshly about. Worried about other the riders' enjoyment, I was asked back out front again to get some decent trot work without sudden stops.

The trot stretches were fun: Frankie had been full of beans from the moment I'd pointed her towards the exit of the yard and her enthusiasm hadn't waned, even though she spooked at Toby's spook once, and continued to shy at the barking dog which set him off. It caught her off-guard and she never spooked at Toby's jumping about and shying again. The canter stretches were a blast: I told myself that I was not to put me leg forward as a safety measure: I was more than capable of sitting such a short and bouncy canter, even with changes of direction without that net. I was right, and I enjoyed all the canter stretches. One of them was especially slow and gentle by design of L, and felt wonderful – very collected and subtle.

The lead wars and leg wars continued: at times my knee went from against the saddle pointing forwards, to being pushed so strongly against L's leg on Toby that it would wing out to near a right angle. There were points we were locked together for tens of yards. All this meant that I rode alongside L in double file quite often, and I chatted to her a lot. I asked her about the Common Rides and what they involved. She said basically they were well-dressed hacks with loads of cantering and galloping. I said that sounded amazing but I'd never galloped before; she said that the next time we're on a hack when the ground's good and I'm on a 'proper horse', she'd take me for a gallop in one of the fields so that I'd feel fit to go on a Common Ride if I wanted to. I said an excited yes, and she told me I should practice my light seat in the next canter stretch, and while it would feel slower, Frankie would be able to really extend under me. The idea of not being in the saddle whilst galloping has long unnerved me: I always wondered how people got the testicular fortitude to stand up while already going fast. I wanted to try in canter though ( and I have done it many a time in the school on a lazy RS pony without problem). I got up as soon as Frankie went into canter (the sexiest walk to canter transition I have ever ridden, without any launching either) and immediately felt safe. My leg and heel felt really sturdy and while I put my hands on the mane to sooth my nerves, I never put any weight on her forehand and never grabbed it. It felt steady but energetic and I felt safe out of the saddle. It gave me the confidence that even in an open space, on a forward-going horse, I can get and stay safely in that two-point position. It’s soothed my galloping nerves a lot!

The fast canter stretch was still part of the ride this time: we waited until we were through the stone tunnel, so no thundering echoes unfortunately, but Frankie really took off again. I think since I was off her back in the previous canter stretch, she thought that I would be up for a gallop on this one. She went disappointed! I thought to myself: 'I know this stretch is fast, I really need to feel secure, so I want my right stirrup a little straighter.' No sooner had I thought that, than I'd lost it while adjusting my footing. By doing that, the other one went too. Frankie was thundering: this is not normal canter, but the fastest possible canter she can manage without actually galloping. I thought I was definitely going to come off: going that fast, in an open space, with Ransom possibly rear-ending me, I had to be heading  for the ground. I never actually was in any risk though: my balance never got near the point of no return, although I did put my hands on her neck just in case and I definitely wobbled a bit. She came back to a normal canter, trot, walk in a steady and controlled way. She was snorting and dancing when I did pull her up: she was enjoying herself and wanted to be back cantering but she still listening to my seat and hands even though she didn't really want to. I could have snogged her beautiful face to within an inch of it's life! I apologised to the riders behind me and trotted on, a bit worried with such a huge gap (500 yards at least) that she was definitely going to gallop off. To be fair, she was listening to my trot requests and not taking it upon herself to canter without my aids. I realised within a few strides though that I couldn't ruin this canter stretch for the 5 people behind me (especially as horse Geoffrey was a pig in canter, trying to gallop all the time and dangerous taking over people, had already gone up ahead with L so wasn’t around to unnerve anyone). I genuinely thought of Haynet's own Marie and how amazingly she dealt with her fall yesterday. I quickly took a dose of what the folks back home would call “cop the feck on” and “man the f**k up” and put her back up into not just canter, but flat-out canter. I should have known anyway she wouldn’t have taken off: she’d led brilliantly up ‘til then, doing what I asked and not what she wanted or remembered.I will admit that I put my legs forward a bit to brace into my stirrups, gluing my heels down and jamming my arse in the saddle. It was genuinely the only time I let my leg slip though, and it was a deliberate choice as my adrenaline was still up. By the end of the stretch I had my anxiety under control and was grinning again. I quickly reassured L that I held up the ride to get my stirrups, but everyone was fine and that she was right to continue onwards. I said another sorry to those behind me for breaking up the canter stretch and trotting for th first few seconds when I got my stirrups back. The woman on Ransom thought she'd cause it in fact, because Ransom was encroaching on Frankie's territory apparently, and Frankie had drifted a bit making it look like she was cutting him off! I gave her the hugest of pats at the end of it: I couldn't have thanked her more for stopping when I asked and for not bucking at that break-neck speed!

Just when the ride seemed to have settled, and apart from taking the lead any time that Toby acted up too much, things were straightforward. We then got a shout from behind to stop on a trot stretch on the roads: Clyde had lost his bit. Now, we couldn't hear at the front and thought we heard something about a 'pig'. We halted, and when I turned my neck around to see, lo and behold I saw Clyde's face, nose band still in place, but bit around his neck behind his throat lash. I assumed one of the cheek pieces had unbuckled or broken, but it wasn't hanging unevenly – his bit was on his cheek pieces in a a loop. How he  or his rider managed it, I don't know! I led the ride up the road and onto a quiet, familiar left turn past homes and fields. Stopping there, I turned Frankie around to block Clyde moving forward and L undid a cheek piece, reslotted the copper iron snaffle into his mouth and did it back up. How it happened remains a mystery, but at least we were in a rural town on a trot stretch, rather than in a canter stretch in the middle of nowhere, where breaks could become an issue.

A while later, a woman on the back of the ride complained of being sore. I'd heard her at the yard queuing for the office beside me: she hadn't ridden since before she was pregnant and her son was now 3 years old. I thought when I heard that, regardless of how good you might once have been, that a 2hr fast ride on a horse you don't know is definitely returning to the deep-end.  L told me in an irked tone that we need to look after her and not trot. While I completely understood that a hack has to protect anyone who needs it (eg a sore or nervous faller that won’t canter again), I was still frustrated that our ride had been down-graded to a walk. Frankie was also not best pleased: she jogged what seemed like all the time. While this often wasn't a problem, if Toby looked like he was going to play up, I really had to bring Franks back. I asked gently with my seat, hands and voice each time for walk, thinking about M’s request with pressure, 3 seconds to react, release and getting nowhere. I'd given her every chance to respond to the gentle touch so had to be firmer with my hands. I never yank or jerk, not by any means, and continual strong pressure on a bit I try to avoid at all costs. Frankie has given me no choice and I had to use much more pressure and to be fair, it did work, but I still had to slow her often. She was also getting heavier in the contact as time went on: a sign of her wanting to pull on and go forward, leaning against my stronger aids to walk I'm sure.

Whilst collecting up the stragglers a while later L asked the sore lady if we could trot uphill. The woman then said it was only cramp it was fine. There was us depriving ourselves of trot for 15 or 20mins when it was only cramp: something that should quickly pass, especially by a good leg stretch in walk! We trotted uphill and had two further trots before the hack ended. Frankie was no less joggy for getting to move forward in these regular trot points, but Toby seemed a bit more settled when home was in reach so it was less of a problem.

Getting back on the yard was mayhem: as our 8 hacking horses arrived, the next hack were waiting to go out, a riding lesson was mounted, and a lead-rein trek of about 10 ponies were lined up in pairs. I was glad to be on the yard first alongside Toby, so we could move in deep and get some space. After circling my feet and generally putting off dismounting for as long as humanly possible, I jumped off and gave her Frankie a lip-quiveringly good wither scratch. She was also nuzzling me and we had a good cuddle, her much more interested in me than ever before. I'm always very vocal in sharing praise with Frankie (much more than anyone else on my hacks: every good transition I let her know I'm pleased with her), but given just how stellar she was, with a kicking horse in front of her, pushing into her and generally being a spooky tool she remained calm bar one shy. She’d come back to me when I really needed it too, despite ruining the favourite bit of her hack.  I was also much happier riding her one handed now I knew the routes and Frankie better: so used my newly free hand for frequent pats and strokes, as well as traffic signals and signalling the riders behind to transition down. Anyway: the point is, I think all that extra physical praise and feeling more like her rider (rather than a passenger on a horse following others like a sheep) made us click more. I had that 'mare' feeling of her looking after me, inspiring the belief that I could have asked her to do anything and she would have tried, and a genuine connection on the ground (something she's never freely given before) rather than the dog-like affection of geldings (who, not always, but are generally the friends of anyone who lavishes affection upon them; it's part of the joy of a gelding in fact). I haven't felt such a click with a mare since I was a teenager, and was the only person who'd ride the fresh and forward ex-broodmare Ruffy on my  N.Irish yard.  I've only ridden one mare at my usual stables with P, and only ever a handful of times as she's been leased out for almost a year now.

All in all, I had the most exhilarating day. From being complimented on my riding by L, trusted to lead the ride, enjoying the Frankie I remembered from my first ride, clicking with her more, having the offer of a future gallop and having the adrenaline rushes of cantering and even losing my stirrups, I was enthralled. (So much so I found it hard to sleep that night, reliving the fun in my head and grinning with my head in the pillow). Apart from that one partial fast canter stretch after losing my stirrups, my leg never went forward or my heel overly down at any other point. My legs and heels are genuinely fine: I've just had a couple of blips recently.  All’s well that ends well, and with more birthday money put aside to treat myself, I might just go back out again next week!

ETS: my bus broke down quite a bit away from my stop on the way home, just adding to the day's adventures. I was so happy I laughed at it: any other day and walking that far in the rain and muddly clothes wouldn't have seemed as funny! lol.

16/6/12 – Finding Homer's Rhythm

With the constant, miserable rain, I took the latest possible bus that would get me to the yard in time for my lesson. I had an informal chat with P and watched part of a lesson before being told I needed to groom and tack up Homer. I was over the moon at the news, and eagerly went off to grab some brushes. He was however a rascal in his stable again: begging for treats, then actively nipping, and not standing still but circling the box. I was firm but fair in correcting his nips and attempts, and praised him when he did stand still and let me brush him. I then went to get his tack and a 20min saga over his bridle ensued: turns out the YM had taken it to a show, even though Homer clearly didn't go and much of the bridle actually belongs to P. Eventually I adjusted a different snaffle and cavesson bridle to fit him, and while he tried to circle, I played on the fact he was polite enough to stop with rein pressure alone, so go those quickly over his head to use as a neck rope. He moved a few times but it worked; he then tried the 'I'm taller than you game', a game I couldn't win without a ladder, but coaxed him to lower his head and praised him when he did. He stood like a lamb to get his gel pad and saddle on.

I got Homer indoors, P checked the bridle and was happy with my length of cheek piece and height of the bit, so up I popped with less fuss than usual (no swinging away from the mounting block and no lurching forward to nose at something when I was touching down). I talked to P about my lesson at the city yard: she was impressed with L noticing my hip so quickly and how much I'd learned, good and bad. She also though Ransom was a raging fitty and that he sounded exactly like the kind of horse I could do with learning a few things from; he's certainly a type that doesn't exist in our riding school at the moment. I explained as well how I saw in some of the video stills with Homer how forward my lower leg was and that M had seen the same mistake. P confirmed my thoughts that it was only a very recent problem, and the fact I was aware of it made working on it that much easier.

The trot work on Homer was so much better this time: I finally have his trot rhythm and impulsion down-pat, and rather than having that extra thinking time during my rise and fall, it had all become automatic (i.e. not needing my conscious control). The lesson was mostly done in trot, with transition work and circles being the main name of the game. Only once did I vocalise to help me control my rise, and only between M and C on one loop: I otherwise had it sorted at last.

Homer was really seeking the contact and going onto the vertical after lots of transition work. P told me to take this and work with it, deliberately working him in an outline and correcting any over-bending as M had taught me on Ransom. It took more leg than I thought it would, given that he's sensitive to the leg and was offering an outline without an explicit request, but we got there, and with my controlled rise maintaining the rhythm (I had M in my head for that, and it's something that varied a lot when I was taking too much time to control my rise), got some beautiful work. It felt darn sexy to ride: a beautiful gliding of controlled, yet subtle power.

Having done lots of transitions from one pace to the next (halt to walk, walk to trot and vice versa), Homer and I did some direct trot-to-halts; something Homer's done little of. Without mentioning M's words, P. told me to do it three times and the third time is nearly always the best. She was right; the first was okay, second time was great, the third time was a square halt – same on both reins. Homer got praise galore for that! He likes to be talked to, so I vocalise every command, praise every successful transition, and that definitely deserved  a moment’s extra fuss.

Next came circle work: I was looking forward to putting what M had told me but that I hadn't always managed to do on handsome Ransom. I put the outside rein against Homer's neck to indicate coming off the track, and it look very little asking to get flexion. I released as soon as it was given, and he held it quite well before needed a re-request. Generally, we either did a fairly nice circle but not with a consistent inside bend, or we got a lovely bend but the circle became smaller. Putting my inside leg further back in a canter-aid position to put it on helped: he moved away from it better, but it wasn't perfect. This was all done in walk, and then seemed easier in trot with the forward momentum.  I asked P if I was doing anything wrong that was causing the errors, but she said no – my hands and legs were great, and she praised our efforts, especially as lots of this is so new to Homes. He fell BTV much more on the circles than he did on the track (something I noticed in the videos too), but leg on, hands towards the bit fixed that and I always shouted 'vertical' so P knew why I was changing my contact and putting more leg on.

Next, P gave me a cracking piece of advice: forget I'm on Homer and ride him like any other horse. I'm very sensitive with Homer: I give all leg and hand aids as subtly as I canas I hate hard-mouthed youngsters from rough hands, and am much quicker to seek reassurance that it's not me making the error in asking any question relative to the experience RS ponies. I forgot all that though, and forgot how high up I was or how much I was being propelled out the saddle in trot. We did a few circles that way, me putting my legs on and letting my shoulders do the talking and it worked well. We went back wide and got a lovely shape around every corner. I'd imagined I was on Murphy but with spurs on, so leg aids were to be minimal. It worked a treat: I was enjoying Homer without that little voice wondering if I'm misleading him in his education by mis-asking questions. I also got him in an outline for much of this too.

I was explicitly aware of my lower leg  the whole time: it's general position was under me, not in front of me, with heel down but foot flat, no over-exaggeration. With my back playing up and my Pilates being sporadic recently, my core wasn't holding up well, and if my upper body went too far back for a split second, my lower leg went forward a bit. I shouted 'leg' every single time, flagging it up and fixing it as soon as it happened. I knew it was a product of my abdominal strength at the moment, so didn’t’ beat myself up about it. P also reassured me that as a profession rider, the YM's leg isn't always in the right position; the international competitors aren't always perfect and in horse riding you don't always have to be either.  I always notice Meredith Michael-Beerbaum's heels are exaggeratedly low, not made any more subtle by her tan coloured boots and her spurs. No one's perfect, and I'm glad I know the problem. P also said that when I put my leg on, it was in the right place too, and I didn't have any slipping of my foot in the stirrup when using my heels.

I came up with the hypothesis that I was struggling so much on Ransom was due to my stirrups; certainly if I'd been having the same problems keeping my feet in one place and slipping through the stirrup when using my heels, I would have stopped and shortened them. I don't know why I didn't ask: I guess I was embarrassed asking to have them put up a second time, and while I don't ride short, I don't ride long either. I tried to ride long on Ransom and in reaching for my stirrups, I put my heel down further; it's what I did on Frankie that rotated my hip when I'd uneven stirrups, and it leads to my foot slipping when I put leg on as I move my leg up to use my heels rather than in. However, I didn't want to seem like I was making excuses and in denial about my lower leg, so I lengthened my stirrups on Homer as an experiment; all of a sudden my foot slipped more in the stirrup when I put my leg on, and I over-lowered my heels to reach my stirrup, the pressure  of this pushing my stirrups and lower leg forward.  Theory confirmed: I am not a rubbish rider with a novice's lower leg, and I am a numpty who needs to grow a pair and always have my stirrups altered, no matter if it's embarrassing or not! I also know that when people take photos, I typically go very erect and try to push my heels down to look good; I managed not to do this for my pic on Ransom, just sitting as I would when comfortable, and hey ho my leg and toes are fine. I think getting the hang of Homer’s big trot and not feeling insecure about being thrown out of the saddle with his impulsion meant I was relaxed enough to keep my leg back. I will not try to ride longer than comfortable or over-correct to try and look good for cameras again! P reassured me that if my photos had been taken today, I'd be happier, and I know from my own proprioception and peripheral vision my leg was fine 95% of the time.

So all in all, a great lesson; P complimented me on my riding, told me that Homer was being taught a lot by me, and that it was good for both me and Home Boy to school him when I rode him. I was tickled pink; P is very protective of him and his education, and is very annoyed at the folk making him nippy with treats and who think his lack of stable manners is a funny joke. I feel oddly privileged to ride 'her' horse, and will enjoy the chance to do so before YM inevitably takes him back once P has put in the hard yards. I adore horses, and love the camaraderie of a great yard, but my goodness you could not pay me enough money to work in those conditions!

14/6/12 'ssage in the City

I went to the city yard yesterday and things were running late again. It seems like my old yard in N. Ireland is the only one capable of running on time! My flatwork teacher M. introduced herself to me and we shook hands. She asked the YO which horses were free to use (there's Common Ridings on this week, so lots of horses are off work because they're resting before/after taking part). M. was told to use anything tacked up, but nothing was tacked up. I sat by the mounting block and met a livery and her horse Walter: a beautiful 16.3hh bay gelding. It was nice to chat with someone on the yard: people have mostly kept themselves to themselves so far as they don't know me.

My RI came out and brought a giant orange horse: the marching horse from my hack with spring hock. I found out his name was Ransom, and despite the mounting block actually being a flight of stairs with a landing, I still struggled getting my leg comfortably into the stirrup first go! He was very different to Homer: Ransom was nearly as tall (17.2hh I'd say), but is narrow like a TB, not like the armchair WB Home Boy is at all.  We put the stirrups up a bit, still feeling long, and off we went to the 'top paddock' – their outdoor school. I said to M that I needed a pair of eyes to check my stirrups were even: she said immediately she'd noticed I looked more comfortable with a long right so must have rotated that hip forward. She was correct, and I'd impressed she'd noticed this without being told about my injury! Her eyes and senses were clearly sharp :)

Ransom walked in happily and M asked me what I wanted to work on. I said really I wanted an objective appraisal of my riding to see what I had to work on, and had been frustrated at my usual yard by not being able to work in an outline, not always sure if it's a problem with me or with being on ponies that are never asked and were never taught (they're all Irish boggers, brought over aged 3-4, backed, ridden away on loan for 6months, then straight into the RS without competing off the yard or doing anything beyond the most basic of flatwork). She said this city yard did not work horses in an outline out of choice, but she'd happily evaluate me and we'd at least discusses techniques for working a horse correctly on the bit.

We started warming up in walk. The arena was surrounded ¾ by trees: the short side at C was treeless, and you could see the elevation, along with the neighbouring farmland below. Ransom freaked out on our first time round on it, putting his head up like a giraffe and spinning to get away. My balance was fine and I took him back to the outside track, getting to walk on calmly as soon as I could, praising him vocally when he did.  I thought a few approaches in both directions would be enough to settle him: he dicked about and spooked the whole lesson pretty much! I rode him in a bend past it and shouldered him in a few times to settle him by stopping him looking. That worked, and we had maybe 3 circuits after that he was fine. He quickly resumed and kept it up until the end, shying and speeding up to get away.

One of the first thing M remarked upon was my lower leg and it was too far forward, with my toes turned out. I hadn't realised this was a problem until I'd made stills of the Homer video earlier this week: I could see my lower leg was too far forward, closer to Homer's elbow than his girth. While P had said my heels were overly low when riding Murph in that great flatwork lesson, a big part of why my leg is too far forwards, she has never otherwise mentioned it. I know I did it when I first returned to riding two years ago, but once I got my heels sorted and my hips loosened with yoga, it settled. I know my leg's gone forward at times on the Turbo Cob, but that was just a security thing, keeping my bum glued in her tiny saddle while she's flying like crap off a stick. I knew I was doing it, but wasn't bothered as I know that's not how I ride normally. Turns out that in my normal riding it is still too far forward, though not quite in the exaggerated 'safety' position of hacking.

M tried to tell me to change the bend in my knee in rising trot to help move my lower leg back, but I couldn't work out what she meant well enough to actually manage it. She stopped me and pulled my legs and toes into position. It felt so alien: it felt like my heel wasn't down at all. I'd been so worried about correcting my teenage problem of not keeping my heels down (my old instructor didn't realise I was pushing down on the balls of my feet, whereas P picked this up straight away and taught me to engage my calf) that I'd ended up over-correcting this problem. I'd learned that pushing my heels down was not only correct, but felt rather safe. My feet didn't feel very safe when M moved them, though she explained about balance points, keeping off the forehand etc which I knew already. It was improving from that first manipulation of my legs though: in the first down transition afterwards I felt my leg slip forward but corrected it immediately, before Ransom and I came to a stop. M was pleased I'd felt it and fixed it: we saw it as progress.

At this point I was trying to keep Ransom straight on the spooky-side of the school, so had leg on and inside hand open. When putting my leg on, my foot kept slipping further into the stirrup, making me feel very novicey and also insecure. I told her this, so she told me not to press upwards to put my heel on, but move inwards and if I was strong enough in my inner thigh, to use more of my leg. It all made sense, and while my heel position improved, I didn't get the hang of it fully before the time was up.

Next up was circle work: I was delighted to be on a horse that quickly understood and gave me flexion when I asked for it! I'd picked up a habit on the riding school horses though: asking fairly constantly for bend, because as soon as you release the pressure, the RS ponies stop. M gave me the 'pressure-release' talk: again, I knew it but listened heartily nonetheless, when she told me to ask, and release as soon as the action is given, even if 2 seconds later I needed to ask again. This worked well, and while Ransom moved away from my inside leg much better than the RS ponies at my usual yard, the circles were still getting smaller. I was told to signify coming off the track with putting the outside rein against the neck but with no added contact. This helped, and the circling improved as I was able to keep my leg on more consistently when I'd stopped pressing up.

All throughout the lesson, M spoke about rhythm: that the beats of walk and trot shouldn't vary and change but should be constant. They did vary on Ransom in trot: he still sped up at the spooky corner to get by if I wasn't quick enough to adjust my rise and contact, and if I was readjusting my lower leg or foot in the stirrup, he often got faster. I used my seat to bring him back and get the rhythm though: a fairly slow but energetic collected trot.  Those glimmers of getting the rhythm right and my legs correct felt nothing short of beautiful, but were intermingled with variations in rhythm and my leg. I felt at the time that my ability to ride a trot had taken several steps backwards.

Next came advice from M for working on an outline, and actually working Ransom across his back. I saw early on from my contact and leg that he settled quickly onto the bit, so when I was asking for consistent work on the bit he was great. He did fall behind the vertical, but rather than P who merely told me Homer does it, M told me what to look for from the saddle (always must see the bridle over the poll) and two ways to correct it, both of which I used successfully to get Ransom back on the vertical. She explained about the nose as a point of balance, and how I should have a different feeling from the trot: I really did, and thoroughly enjoyed the free, powerful movement. M said we had to stop though, in case YO saw us working on an outline, but M was happy that I was capable of giving the aids and encouraging a horse to work correctly, and correcting an overbend (as I'd said about riding an overbending WB but without being taught how to school it out of him).

The RI then brought up canter. I'll be honest: I genuinely didn't feel ready to. Ransom was still spooking at the bottom of the school and regularly threatening to take off for his own personal safety: the faster the horse goes, the more power you are giving to that back end to bugger off! I was still feeling insecure in trot: while moments felt magic, when I got my legs wrong or my foot slipped when using my heels, I felt like a novice.  Add to this the fact that I hadn't cantered a horse that big in over ten years, I was fretting about just trying it, even if I rode it with my leg forward and heels too far down. Due to my nerves and not asking firmly, Ransom wasn't transitioning up: it didn't help that M was telling me to do it on the short side Ransom was freaking out on. I was quite happy to still be in trot, and knew it was all me and not Ransom when it came to not getting that soft transition. M spoke about asking as many times as it took to get any transition correct when doing flatwork: often the third transition was the best one when schooling. 

I decided that if all else fails, I can fall back into my old habits and put my leg forward a bit to get and stay in canter, presuming that once I'd adapted to Ransom's big canter and felt controlled, I would be settled enough to work on me lower leg. I asked Ransom to transition up where I wanted, the non-spooky end of the outdoor, and it worked. His canter was like moving in slow motion: I couldn't believe how long it was between his hooves hitting the ground. I'd never known such a gap in the beats before. It was also beautifully uphill: Ransom was really stepping under, and our rhythm was good: consistent and not too fast.  The problem we were having was staying on the outside track: he kept coming in, even though I felt like I was using my inside leg and outside rein.  M stopped me, and looked at my hands: wouldn't you know, my inside rein was fractionally shorter than my outside, no more than 1cm. M had said earlier this was a great horse for what I wanted to do, and I was capable of riding him without being harsh because I had soft, forgiving hands. This big horse was obeying my slight unevenness though: it was a wonderful lesson for me, and didn't make me feel like such a rubbish rider, not keeping to the outside track.

Overall in the lesson, these are just some of the things M brought up; most of them I knew already, but it was nice to hear them from an RI rather than the relative silence of P between “shoulder back” or “that was nice”:

l        My lower leg is too far forward: while this has been worsened by my tight, uneven hips, it will come again with time and practice. Lowering one's heel does not mean that one's foot shouldn't be essentially parallel to the ground: I think I'll find that harder than moving my legs themselves.

l        Always gentley squeeze into a halt to push the hocks under and get a nice, active square halt.

l        Even when opening or dropping a hand, always keep the palms facing each other. Length of rein doesn't matter as long as the contact remains as light as the weight of the bit in the horse's mouth.

l        A horse's better rein is typically the rein the mane naturally falls upon: it's related to the side the foal lays in the mother's uterus, so it develops with the mane on the short inside that's not being laid upon (as the baby must lay on a curve to fit inside). I'll be looking out for this to check it, but certainly it fits with the anatomical lay of a foal in-utero.

l        Pressure and release: think about every single aid you give a horse, be it hand, leg or seat, and the horse has 3 seconds to respond. If not, ask again more firmly. It's okay to get more determined and a bit angry about not behaving, but it most be momentary: all must be forgiven once the horse gives what it asked for, and moved on positively from as if nothing has happened. It's important to not let the horse win the battle: he must not learn that e.g. that if you ask for a circle and he tries to change direction, that you'll just let him go on that other rein rather than asking for the circle originally desired. The horse must not grow confident in being able to do only what it wants.

l        Lowering hands and pushing the horse on is the best way to correct falling BTV.

l        To use an open inside hand with my legs on to help straighten a horse motorbiking away from a spooky area.

All in all, while M told me basic things I already knew, I didn't take it as an insult: she doesn't know me from Adam so we started from scratch. Better to have heard it several times than not at all, then having difficulties because M's asking to me work on info I haven't received. I had felt like a total numpty for so much of the time, making so many what seemed like basic mistakes. If that's what it takes to feel comfortable with a more correct leg though, that's what I'll do! It's great motivation in fact. However, M told me early on in the lesson that she's only used Ransom once for teaching before. He's a notoriously sensitive and difficult horse, and you need soft hands and very explicit control of the aids to ride him: she said I'd ridden him well and sensitively, so I took some comfort from that. I was also buoyed by the fact I felt and knew many of my errors without them being pointed out, and anything I didn't know, M was not only able to find but to fully explain. It was never just “X is wrong”, it was “X is wrong. It's wrong because... It needs to be correct in order to... So here's how we're going to improve on it.” It felt a mile away from P's “your heels are too far down”, fixing my stirrups because I was struggling to ride that long, asking if my heels were improved once shorter and getting a “Yes”. 

On the one hand, I was deflated that my riding's taken a step back because my leg's has moved forward, and I had a lot of errors pointed out to me. On the other hand, M herself said I'd done a great job on a difficult horse, I was delighted to hear about my mistakes and in such a constructive way, and many of my errors I'd noticed without prompt. I also knew that my nerves had played a part, especially in canter: I was nervous just about riding the pace itself on such a big horse, without such a great pair of eagle eyes on my feet, legs, hands and seat. I know I was capable of more on the day if I hadn't been nervous, and I know I'm capable of working on these things to improve them. If I learn to correct my leg and quicken my thinking after this lesson, I'll be a happy bunny.

I am however now seriously wondering about permanently changing yards. I'll be giving P the feedback I received from M, and see if she helps me improve on it. If she doesn't do enough then it's has to be a definite yes to moving on. (P has said before she understands if I need to move on and won't take it personally: we'll still remain friends). I'd said to M on the walk back onto the yard that I'd been toying with moving as my yard is so far away and their horsepower is limited. M didn't go into a pushy sales-pitch: while she made clear I'd be very welcome as a new student of hers, she said she'd given a lot for me to go away and practice at my usual yard. She also said how expensive riding was, so no pressure to rush straight back: I didn't need to see her within in a week to make best use of what she taught me. I appreciated that. I also appreciated the fact that Ransom wasn't whisked away as soon as I'd got off either: M. let me give him a scratch and give my thanks to him for a few minutes first, whereas the yard volunteers just take Frankie away as soon as they can. The handsome Ransom worked well given I wasn't always riding the best. (even in halt when M was artificially putting my leg on to show my the correct heel position, it was making him keen to move off as he was so sensitive to every touch: he was on the bit on the gentle stationary pressure). Fab horse, just the type I'd wanted to ride (spookiness aside), and he gave me plenty when I asked correctly for it.

I think M can take me much further in my riding. I adore P and respect her a lot, but she often sits at one end of the arena and spends a lot of time not speaking. M barely shut up the whole time: she was always explaining something or giving constructive feedback on what I was doing well and what I could do better. At the end she apologised for talking so much, but explained that as the better her riders get, the quieter she is! lol. P. can go minutes without speaking, instead having queues of kids coming in and out asking questions and distracting her. I brought all this up while out for dinner with Tom and he said that P. had given me a lot these past two years (two years to the day in fact from this lesson with M.), and there was no shame in moving on. I certainly wouldn't be any worse off for moving financially: while the city yard costs more for a lesson, the transport costs much less, so it actually works out the same price and a much shorter journey. I've toyed and to-ed and fro-ed before, but I do wonder if this dressage lesson was the final nail in the coffin. P will have the chance to work on this feedback and be more interactive to help me, but without using up her SJ-knowledge, I think I've reached the ceiling with her and the ponies. The lesson with my wee sister could be one of my last if that's the case. A scary thought, but quite exciting too.

Here's a couple of pics of me and Ransom too: a great way to have spent my birthday 80) Now roll on Sunday when I'm out hacking: my birthday treat from my friend and sisters!