8/9/13 - One Last Hurray!

So, this weekend has been one of ups and downs, but has ended on an oddly serendipitous high. Belt yourselves in – this might be a long one! I’ve subtitled it, so you can skip over the drama of getting there to ride itself if you prefer.

Friday and Saturday – The Common Riding Preamble

Friday afternoon, 4:45pm. I’d just finished my last job at work for the week, and was whiling away the last 15mins on admin when the phone rang. I knew instinctively that it was Anna from our holiday yard, but assumed it was a final check of details, or some last minute directions. Wrong! She called to say that not only was the weather unpleasant in her neck of the woods, but that it was actually wintery-cold with driving rain and howling winds – above and beyond any reasonable ‘let’s not the rain spoil it’ level of weather. I had to break the news to my friend that while we could still go, we couldn’t do full day rides as the horses wouldn’t settle in such weather anyway. With my friend away during the only other two weekends Anna has free, we had the choice of transferring on to an Xmas trail ride or play the weather by ear. For £225, we figured we needed to have more fun than being out in the storms, so a delay it is. Having both been looking forward to it all the working week, and since the frustrations of an over-cautious Coldstream, we were both a bit upset.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel though – the city Common Ride was on Sunday, and there was a slim chance that we could get on it. This ride is unlike the others -  you don’t just turn up with a horse and join in. You have to pre-register (in May), pay £10 and submit rider’s insurance details in order to get on the ride. Friday Night was the Ball for the Common Ride, so we knew we’d be waiting until Saturday afternoon for a reply. Two people had unofficially said there were spare places, so it should be fine – we were to go on ahead and try to book horses at our yard.

So, on Friday some of the yard hands told me the only horse suitable for me that was left is Hutch. While I had fun on the big lad last summer, I’ve ridden him again since and just found him difficult – this year I found his Jeckyll & Hyde streak of going from dobbin to throwing one up the inside of the horse in front without warning tiresome, and the down-transition from gallop on the railway line was hideous to ride. I would not have taken Hutch if I given him free of charge, never mind fork out a total of £170 for the privilege! Again, my hopes were dashed, and I was told to ring the boss at 8:45am the next day to double check.

I woke up at 8:30am, and awoke to a fb message on the YO’s behalf: I could have either Hutch or Zing Zang, but I needed to get back in touch quickly. While Hutch was not an option in my mind, I was willing to give big Zing Zang a go – he’s a renowned steady neddy, but he’d likely to have easier paces to ride as he’s more of a WB-build at 17hh, rather than the 17.2hh draft Hutch. I wasn’t willing to take Zingy Common Riding without trying him first though, so rang to book a 1hr hack. I was quickly told there was no hacking as the staff were busy washing and plaiting horses for tomorrow, dashing my hopes again, but The Boss would have the final say. Thankfully, they rang me back 5mins later to say YO is all for people trying out horses in any circumstance, so I could have 1hr on him at 11am. I nearly cried with joy on the phone, told my friend we were booked in (she had to try a new horse too), and I started to get ready.

I got to the yard, got on the lovely Zingy, and off we set with A. I am deeply fond of A, though her hacks are a bit slower and have less of the Common Riding feel than other leaders. Still, the only question mark I have with riding any horse’s paces is the down-transition from a canter or gallop: does it feel like I’ve just stood up on a bus that’s emergency breaking, or is it so bouncy that I can’t sit to the canter to begin the process of bringing them back? So, that was my litmus test and I knew what I had to do.

As I knew he would be, Zing Zang tested my leg strength no end – it was like being back on one of P’s leg-dead school horses. Riding a horse like that is fabulous for riding fitness, but I am out of practice, and also didn’t want to strain myself if I was taking him out tomorrow. So, there was some whip-tickling going on, but I was quite happy to fall behind a bit in canter as long as I chased to catch us up in trot. A. still had to stop a few times for me, especially downhill as Zingy turned into a delicate flower that only takes Shetland pony-type steps, but all was well.

Zingy was easy to ride – he’s like a big rocking horse, but quite uphill; it almost felt like we were going more up than forwards in the canter. He also holds his head quite high, so there’s plenty of neck for security – always a confidence-inspirer, and nice to have (but not need). The only issue was the down-transition – Zingy knows all the canter tracks back to front, and would die out just before I’d ask him to come back. So, we were on a downhill canter (a harder one to ride), and I caught him out by asking him to come back early. Not only could I sit to his canter, but I only needed to close my fingers to get a trot. So, even downhill, Zingy was not bouncy and did not give that horrid G-force type feeling that Hutch does. Right at that moment, I knew I’d be comfortable riding him the next day, if a little disappointed with the sedate pace relative to my first choice horse, Abbie.

So, we dismounted our new steeds and M saw she had an email when she turned her tracker off. It was from a senior member of the Common Riding committee – we couldn’t join the ride because the paperwork had already been submitted. Zingy and Fern would not be taking us safe oot and in tomorrow after all :( I hadn’t realised just how geared up I was to ride a horse that essentially isn’t my cup of tea until the rug was pulled from under my feet. I held that big fella for nearly 10mins and I fussed over him dearly. He might well be the nicest natured creature on the whole yard! I also felt like a child again – I put my arms around his neck, and my fingers just about met over his wither. I hadn’t felt so lost in neck, and so out-sized in a horsey cuddle since the days when a 14.2hh pony seemed like a giant. Zingy was patient too – there was no fidgeting, no mugging for polos, no risking my toes by shifting his big hooves about. If I hadn’t been in public, I might have shed a tear of frustration into that big neck. As it was, I hadn’t even realised that one of the staff had taken the reins to put Zingy away, I was so firmly attached to him.

Disappointment soon turned to frustration. Fair enough there’s no new paperwork going in, but there is no chance that on a ride with 250 places that everyone will turned up – there was bound to be a few people that had places, paid their money in May, but now couldn’t make it. We decided to ask The Boss – she is a fearsome woman that holds come clout, and we hoped she could pull some strings. At the end of the day, there was a lot of money in it for her! She did find two cancellations on her list though, and both had registered for an official place. It would involve giving the wrong name at the registration desk, so it would be an unofficial foot in the back door. Still, it meant we had some hope.

I’d just got off the bus home when my phone rang – M called to say she got a reply to a message she sent last night. The most senior committee member told someone to reverse their decision – we were to be added to the paperwork officially, we just had to email our details. Woohoo! I hadn’t realised how much my happiness in the face of losing my holiday had been riding on this chance until it was taken away. It had been a horrible couple of days of yeses and nos, and I could have partied on the spot, in the middle of the city centre for all to see!

So, M and I had dinner together on Saturday night (as we would have on our riding holiday) – she made the main course, I made pudding (apple & raspberry oatmeal crumble – it’s a bit good!), and we shared the wine we’d bought for the trip. After a lovely night, 6:45am came too soon, and I couldn’t believe I remembered all my formal riding gear. I did realise when I saw The Boss that I was £20 short – I’d miscounted that morning! Thankfully I’m a good customer, so she wasd happy for me to pay when I next see her - phew.

Sunday – The Capital’s Common Ride

Zingy was waiting for me by the lorries and he looked great. Rather than the faded teal saddlecloths, Zing Zang had a white one on, and against his near-black coat, he looked a striking sight. Despite the fact that it was 3pm yesterday before I officially put the deposit down on him, they’d plaited him up too. I hadn’t expected that – while I’ve done enough Common Rides to qualify for free plaiting, I really didn’t expect them to do it today, with such little warning. Gosh, my big boy looked dashing :)

This ride pretty much begins with a gallop, meaning the horses have to be warmed up before setting off. So, the horses from our yard all went out to warm up together – it really was like a yard Common Ride, 30 or so of us all walking, trotting and cantering stubble fields together! I could tell at the first canter that my stirrups were a wee bit long and the left was stretched, but I wasn’t able to fix that until the warm-up was done. Zingy did not turn into a snorting dragon when his foot hit stubble though, and remained his relaxed self, and his canter remained easy to go with. I was happy that my ‘big horse’ complex was gone for the day – I wasn’t going to have a difficult time just because he was a big lad. I had the measure of all his paces with just 5 canters on that wee Saturday hack!

So, on came the ride. I was quite far back, and could see the whole ride file onto a massive, slightly uphill stubble field. At that point, it was the fastest field I had seen the whole Common Riding season – people didn’t just look like they were galloping, it looked like they were competitively sprinting for a finish line. The horses were fit after 4 months of Common Riding, and itching to go after their warm-up, and some standing around on ceremony. The girl on front of me spoke of her nerves, but I told her that once she got safely through the gate, she’d love it. I, unusually for me, had not a single nerve – I knew that Zingy would be easy to do in terms of making the gate, and that I’d be comfy at his speed regardless. I couldn’t wait to get started! I also saw my friend set off ahead of me on Fern, and she was bloomin’ well going for it. My friend normally has eyes only for Ripper; I knew from seeing her set off on that first field that she had found her new Ripper back-up on Common Rides. She quickly confirmed that when we caught up later on in the day!

Zingy was a gent and waited until we were through the gate before even threatening to take off. I’d say I got maybe 5 good strides of care-free gallop, and then my right ankle went, and I mean really went. It didn’t just feel uncomfortable, or achey or uneven – it was actually wobbling on the verge of collapse. I tried to move my foot in the stirrup to see if changing where I bore weight on my foot but it didn’t help – the only thing it did was slow Zingy, as he realised I was shifting about on him.

Having started near the back already, I had fallen right to the back, with only the rear Marshals behind me. The first gallop joined almost straight onto a second one, and by the end of the second gallop the Marshals told me to keep the pace up when I brought Zingy back to trot to save my ankle. I worried at that point if I’d ever make it all the way around, and tried everything I could think of in terms of changing the twist in my stirrups, altering length, putting more foot through the stirrup and so on. I was also in a dilemma about switching my ankle support – I’d taken Ibuprofen and put my support bandage on the left ankle that I wrecked on Frankie in July, as it’s been funny ever since. My left ankle now felt fine, but my right was on the point of failing to take my weight and absorb Zing Zang’s big canter. So, did I swap the support over to help the ankle that’s most in need, leaving my left ankle susceptible? In the end, I never even got time to choose.

Normally I adore galloping stubble fields, especially in such beautiful sunshine, but I looked upon every one ahead of me with gritted teeth. I was delighted when we hit some road work, so that I could walk and trot for a while. I did a lot of work on the tarmac without any stirrups – a sign of my trust in Zingy too, after less than a day of knowing him as a riding horse. Finally though, we got to a field that I enjoyed. We entered the bottom left corner, with the Official Party filing over to the bottom right to begin their gallop. However, rather than follow them in file up that right hand side, an amazing domino effect occurred – the ride started to turn 90 degrees to their left so that we were all taking off across the width of the field. I saw this head towards me, and rather than wait for Zingy to sit on his hocks and part-spin, I purposely turned him and off we set! We weren’t last on this gallop, and I felt more physically comfortable – I think being uphill helped. It was the first field I could really enjoy without feeling that my ankle was going to blow out, and I’d collapse on my right hand side. The phrase ‘she can’t even ride one side of that horse!’ had never felt as apt before!

Thankfully, there was some more road work after that. I was at the back, and enjoyed lots of resting without stirrups. I also met the lady that changed the paperwork to let us onto the ride, and she asked about my fall in July from Frankie. I thanked her for her help in stopping the ride when I fell off, and she gave me some more details. She was riding behind me, and she said it looked like Frankie was thinking about moving towards a gap in the trees rather than the gate; the decision seemed to have been made late, and I got caught out. This I still don’t understand, as I actively steer and make choices, rather than take a 50-50 guess about where my horse will go, but it was the last gate on the last gallop and my ankle was sore – perhaps I just lost concentration for a second or two? Anyhow, she also told me something that was difficult to hear: she was only metres behind me when I fell, and given the clout I hit the gate post with and the way I was lying on the ground, she actually thought I had been killed – that I was immediately brain-dead from the impact with the post, never mind then hitting the ground. That sort of floored me a bit, and she told me about my awful breathing. Now my laboured breathing I could hear on my helmet cam, although I hadn’t realised it was because my hat strap was choking me a bit. Thankfully she quickly moved onto issues she had as a marshal getting people to stop galloping and to have the ride held up while the medics moved in. I was able to make small talk with her, but even with my mouth closed, it felt like my jaw was on the floor. For a lot of reasons, I was clearly lucky to quite literally walk away from that one. In fact, apart from a funny leg for a few days, I had been fine – even damaging my left ankle had happened hours earlier thanks to the twists in my stirrups!

Unlike most rides, the more road work we had, the happier I felt. (I had even told the Chief Marshal along the route before I got any rest that I was almost sure I couldn’t finish the ride, laying the foundations for me to retire if I got any worse). Not only were there lots of people out to meet us, but my ankles and calves were feeling much less achey for periods of riding without stirrups. I felt like my chances of surviving the gallops increased, and boy am I glad – some epically long stubble fields came up, and I was even kicking on to keep at least a canter towards the end of them, rather than trotting to save my ankle. I was still one of the last on the ride, but the marshals hadn’t mentioned my speed and their tight timing schedule again.

After more fields than I can even remember, we finally came to the big one – a field that is 1 mile long and unbelievably wide. I was riding alongside another committee member, one that has been Common Riding for years and done it all, and she had goosebumps just knowing that this was next. It really didn’t disappoint – I had a great long, straight gallop without my ankle really troubling me, and had known to stay left to avoid slowing for the pylon and for passing the bank of photographers. In fact, the ride and this particular field were so good, that they made Front Page National news the next day!

Not only was this gallop glorious, but we then walked along the width of the field and did it all the way home again too. I got about 2/3 of the way across, and my ankle went from ‘warning’ to ‘imminent failure’. I pushed a little more, then put Zingy in the fastest trot I could manage, and we succeeded in not holding anyone up – in fact, we had to wait to file off the field, so Zingy for stopped for a snack break. This was definitely the field of the season, and while I felt a bit jealous of the man on Abbie as I would have seriously pushed her to full speed on this one, I was happy that with my ankle, I was on a horse I could manage, who went for me nonetheless, and who felt wonderful in his own way by having such big strides. I decided then that I would do this Common Ride again for that field alone!

We did road work back to our starting point, and when I heard that there was cantering in the second half, I knew I had to get my ankle strapped up. So, I grabbed lunch (chips never taste as good as when you’re starving and eating them outdoors), and went to the Rescue Ambulance to ask for a bandage to strap myself. That wouldn’t do though, so I was checked over by a doctor and a paramedic, and strapped up by them before I left. They had no tubi-grips, so they had to use basic bandage, but could only wrap my ankle up so many times for my boot to fit back on. It wasn’t as thick or study as I wanted, but it was a big improvement, and I knew that I’d survived all the hardest parts, so the second half would be fine. I was also glad they didn’t challenge my decision to keep on riding either, as medical staff often do.  I did see the ambo guy twice on the ride after that – I waved and smiled to him both times, shouted that my ankle was grand, and thanked him heartily!

We had two canters on the way into the city centre – one was on a slightly downhill stubble field. I felt great on Zingy, finally secure so he picked up the speed for me, but it was cut short and I presume we had fallers as there were suddenly two horses without riders, and the spare riders to get the horses home were being called in. Shame! To my surprise, we got one more though – behind the hospital in fact. Zingy was really keen, and half way along the path, a kid on her pony saying she didn’t want to canter. The adult with her told her she had to, and that the longer she held, the more her pony would get wound up, and the faster it would go to get caught up. I really didn’t want to have to go back to trot to pass them, but sadly I had to. Once past, we had fun up the hill though, but managed to avoid the fall at the top from a girl that overtook me. (All was fine – her pony tripped, and she got straight back on when she caught him up).

I got emotional on the journey to the city centre – people were lining the streets, kids were shouting to me to ask my lovely horse’s name, and were excited about being put on Youtube via my helmet cam. I also talked to a former Honest Lass, female Official Party leader, who took up her position 50years ago. She is still going strong! Thankfully, when we reached Arthur’s Seat and were approaching the mile, my glistening eyes had recovered, and I was ready to enjoy it. Sadly my helmet cam died, so I had to turn my tracker off and use my Blackberry. It was a blessing in disguise, as the footage on The Mile was much better for it. So many people admired my horse too – he was right next to the crowd and despite all the cheering, the vuvuzelas and sound of the band, he was calm to the point he looked sleepy. No wonder strangers were asking to pat him ;) One cheeky American sod did offer the woman in front of me £50 to ride her horse up The Mile. A stranger, with potentially no horse sense, no hat, and you don’t know from Adam taking away the most celebrated return home of the season? Screw you Sir!

Despite doing 28 miles in 5.5hrs, I was able to get off Zingy easily enough, although I’m glad my left foot hit the ground first as my ankle caved when my right one hit the floor. I did manage to stay upright though! Zingy got a lot of polos, and a lot of hugs. Another friend from the yard took this pic too – I look dishevelled and spent, and Zingy looks like he’s been on an hour’s hack rather than a marathon ride!

Looking back, I wasn’t filled with regret; in fact, the serendipity of the whole situation really struck me! Would I have gone faster and had more fun on Abbie? Probably, but if my ankle had gone on her, she might not have looked after me the same way as Zingy, or her top speed would have been too great a risk when I was a slave to what my ankle could withstand. Maybe on her smaller movement, my ankle wouldn’t have gone in the first place. Who knows?! Still, despite our holiday being delayed, I’d got onto the ride at the last minute, braved it through points I thought I’d have to give up, had the best field of the season and most emotive journey through the centre of the capital, and had a total gent of a horse to look after me. There was no holding for gates with Zing Zang – no short reins and having to use my weight like with the mares; no, all Zingy needed was a half halt, and me to say ‘wait’ and he did. Honestly, if anyone wanted a solid, polite, steady horse to take them around their first Common Ride, Zingy is the ideal choice. In fact, if my fiancé was ever to learn to ride, Zing Zang is the horse I would pick for him. I’d put my granny on him if I still had one! Also, on a very vain level, he has given me the best photographs of the season – being so big, so dark and so handsome, he is very photogenic, and our slower pace at the quiet end of the ride seemed to help us get picked up by photographers, whereas riders behind the Official Party at the front got missed out. There are so many to choose from, but I think this is my absolute favourite! (Pardon the hands, but having short reins and fluid elbows while concentrating on my ankle was hard, so I rested my hands on a long rein so that Zingy could go without me touching his mouth):

So, the frustrating celebrations at Flodden were not the end to my season – this ride, that I’d photographed a year earlier and dreamed of riding in maybe 2 years time when I was ready, ended a glorious summer of riding. I’d never have thought until that slightly wilder ride on Frankie (not including the falling off in that description!) that I was capable of more advanced rides in my first season, but I’d met my goal a whole year early, and with the sun shining and harvest in, reviews have it as the absolute best of it’s recent history (having only been revived 4 years ago). It was a total high to end on, and my OH even saw me on the ride, as he photographed us arriving at the Palace. I’ll definitely be booking it again!

So, the discussions about next year have begun already. Which horses and which rides? I’m looking forward to deciding, and the inevitable discussions about it with M over a bottle of wine or two :)

Here is the helmet cam video. (Note when I look down at 50 seconds – that the point where my ankle nearly did collapse and give way. Yikes! Also, it is the same epic field from where the caption screen names it, right up until the next caption again, where we’re marching towards to city).