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.