Three Fond Farewells

Life has not been  kind to the yard recently, and by not kind, I mean we have lost three horses. The first to perish was Freddie – a 14hh grey BSJA pony, owned by one of the pro-riders on the yard and jumped by one of the BSJA kids based with us. While in a jump off, the pony went down at a sharp turn and broke his shoulder – a terminal injury. He never got up though: he had a massive attack of some kind, presumably a coronary or aortic aneursym and died immediately on the spot. He probably fell and broke his shoulder precisely because he was having a cardiac event, though some of the kids have a theory that he died out of panic at his injury. They think this because of pony B. (Sadly I don't have a photo of Freddie, as he's only been on the yard a couple of months, and doesn't put his head over his door, preferring the peace and quiet of the back of his box).

The second to go, also passed away under the same rider and also in a jump off. After too tight a turn, 'Baby Bailey' as he was known (a Welsh B compared to the riding school's Bailey, a 14.2 pony) broke his leg in more than one place and had to me put down in the ring. Combined with losing Freddie and with getting a new competition pony within 3 days of losing Bailey, some kids began to wonder if the rider was at fault and if he really loved his ponies. I can't speak about fault, I wasn't there, but just because you get another competition pony so soon does not stop you missing or loving the ones that came before. Competing horses is a bit different to private owning: the season goes on whether you're a part of it or not, and as the kid in question has appeared in national youth teams, he needs to keep his BSJA record sheet looking good and keep his name in the running. Now he has to do that with a new pony. Here's some photos of Bailey: the sanest and sweetest little Welshie I've ever known.

Finally, and the one that upset me most, was Bentley – 17.2hh of sweet young Warmblood (6 or 7 years old). A couple of months ago, they suspected he had a stress fracture in his pelvis, so cross-tied him in his stable, providing water and haynets at door level to immobilise him as much as possible. I remember looking after him for a day when it happened: monitoring and refilling his water for P, fussing over him, and it was the first time the YM addressed me directly and asked me to do something. It was only to refill his haynets for the night, but given how scary and dismissive a man our YM can be, and that he only spoke to me before to check I was okay on my way to A&E and on my first return to the yard after the accident, it felt like a 'wee big deal' as my countrymen would say. Anyway,  a week or two later Bentley got cast in his stable, and that point he was put to sleep.  Bentley, or Bentlers as I often called him, was a sweety, and full of mischief. He's in one of the double sized corner boxes due to his huge frame, and is right next to Guinness. He was a torture in the funniest way: nothing could be set down around him. With his giant neck, he could reach anything you put over Guinness' door: I have often picked up Poo's bridle and rug off the floor, after trying to tell Bentley not to grab them while laughing my head off. (Not the best way to chastise a horse I know, but he was being inquisitive, and with no one else ever telling him off for it, consistent discipline was impossible).  I'd often stroke his big head and his ears would splay out like a donkey, as if he was enjoying it to the point of stupor. I've also spent many a time watching him in the field: he'd pick up his tail like a Lippizener (sp) and his front legs like a hackney: he had the proudest looking trot, head up and mane flowing.  

 

I thought I'd find Bentley's empty box hard, but it turned out Homer was in it by my first visit after Bentley had gone: another giant, sweet, affectionate horse, and the horse who  helped stop me from missing Bolero so much and finding his empty box so painful as it goes. While the yard will never be quite the same with the silly Bentlers in the corner, Homie does a rather good job of being cheeky and adoreable himself. That corner of the yard is still my favourite: with Paddy the Highland, who is stunning and a snogging machine (he knows the command 'Kisses!' and happily obliges), Guinness the stunner (buckskin tobiano, with a marmite personality that I adore) and the gorgeous, sweet Homer, who I appreciate even more now that I'm riding him. It'll never be the same without Bentley, but it's still once of my happy places on this earth 80)

Run free at rainbow bridge Freddie, Bailey and Bentley: you are sadly missed x

Sunday 27th May: Turbo Cob – The Sequel

I arrived at the City Yard at 9:20am, having walked to the city centre for the bus. Living very close to the start of the marathon, I saw lots of people out in their lycra and charity livery: they all seemed happy, smiley and I couldn't help but beam at them. Although they were all strangers, I was already very proud of what they were attempting to do in the name of charity: it was a very odd feeling, but one that I liked. Next year I'll definitely be helping out, and not accidentally booking a hack for about the same start time!

I arrived at the yard with another woman on the hack who'd been on my bus, and was second in the queue. I was happy about that: it meant I'd have a choice of horse, rather than an instructor choosing for me out of the two left over like last time (not that the result, Fun Time Frankie – The Welsh D Turbo Cob Extraordinaire, was in any way a disappointment). The queue got longer and longer as the other hack members and the novice lesson arrived, and thing kicked of  a bit late.  I got in to the office second, and the YO asked me who I usually rode: I said I'd had Frankie last time and would love her again if I could as I'd had such a total blast with her. She said she was delighted to hear it, and Frankie was indeed available for today's ride.  I was over the moon: I would have enjoyed a hack on any horse, but after the fun of last time, I couldn't go past the Turbo Cob. Also, from riding Homer, I really didn't think asking for Theo was a smart move. As a similar size to Homie, and as an ex-dressage horse, he likely has a big movement too, and while I've never had to relearn any part of my riding for horses up to 17hh, I've had to for Homer. Hacking therefore didn't seem like the right place to learn to canter on such a huge mover: I'm sure I would have glued myself to the saddle Western style if I needed to, but I'd rather learn it under control, when I can try it one length of the manege at a time to begin with if necessary.

I was one of the first to get mounted; Frankie looked even prettier than I had remembered, with her summer coat coming through and she was gleaming too, rather than having just come in from a muddy field.  I got on, the yard hand helped me make sure my stirrups were even (my physio's words were echoing in my head, to never ever EVER ride knowingly uneven again, especially for long periods of time), and I moved Frankie out of the way.  I talked to her and patted her, but she seemed fairly uninterested as she did last time, not looking around at me or turning her ears. That might just be years of a new rider on her back for each outing, or her excitement to get off the yard and on the trail, but it did and still does disappoint me a bit.  An attempt to giver her a wither scratch did make her bottom lip droop and flick though: she was a bit more focused on me after that.

I looked back in the saddle to pat Frankie's rump and wasn't very happy with her rear end. It seemed to lack muscle, but her overall body condition was good. I looked around and many horses were the same: good body coverage, but rear ends needed muscling up. I'm guessing that will come though, as the work increases now that the better weather is here. (It was over 20oC already that morning). I also guessed it could have been the same last time, but I wouldn't have noticed under all the fur!  I also saw another big chestnut horse come out, one that wasn't Theo, and it was walking funny: marching almost, as it over-lifted it's rear legs from the stifle. Added to Frankie's loose shoe (I could hear the double click, but she wasn't at all footy and the farrier is on the yard weekly to hot-shoe) I admit I was a bit worried: I wondered how they could send a lame horse out for a couple of hours, but when I got chatting to a fellow hacker later, they said the horse had a syndrome and always walked like that. Certainly it didn't stop the big gelding moving: he was keen as mustard for every canter, and launched off, ears pricked every time! I also remembered that the YO's owner works for the SPCA and her van's often at the yard, so really things can't go too far wrong with such an invested, watchful eye.

Us 7 riders and our leader soon set off and rather than crossing the narrow width of the river, to get off the yard, we actually went up it for a few hundred metres instead. I was glad of it: while all the other riders were in short sleeves and vest tops, I had my Factor 50 on and a long-sleeved hoody. Not only are we not allowed to ride in short sleeves at my current yard due to the damage caused to bare skin when people fall, but having gone through so much shrubbery last time I wasn't relishing gorse, holly and general greenery against a single armless layer of clothing!  The water level was around Frankie's hocks at points, and while it remained lower than my boots, my breeches got a good soaking from the splash-back. The peak of the sun was meant to hit 27oC in the city, and our ride was due to finish at noon; the heat was intense already and while I usually despise cold, damp clothing, it was a relief despite the fact we only yards into the hack.

We were soon into a trot stretch when we got out of the river, and Frankie's movement did not feel short or choppy this time: I had the rhythm down-pat from rise and fall number one.  The last horse I'd ridden was Murphy last night, and as both have pony-sized strides, I was in the groove.  Speaking of which, I'd like to know if anyone else finds they have muscle memory from the last horse they've ridden? When I get on a horse, the last horse I've riden, be it two days or two weeks earlier, is in my brain and the differences are automatically compared whether I like it or not.  So, Guinness felt small after riding Homer, but only the first time I was on him. My next ride was Guinness again, and he didn't feel small, but perfectly formed. After these two lessons on Guinness, my next ride was on Murphy, who felt noticeably narrow and short-strided, but I never get this if I ride Murphy more than once in a row. Having ridden Guinness in my lesson before my first hack, Frankie felt like she was short and choppy in stride, but not today as my last ride was on Murph. Homer had felt even bigger the second time I rode him, having followed on from Frankie almost a fortnight before. I don't mean I deliberately compare the horses either: I can do that from the ground or from memory, but my body rather explicitly 'feels' the difference from my last mount, and it becomes glaringly obvious despite the fact I'm not looking for comparisons. Am I alone in being this way? P agreed she gets it too, but sometimes it's hard to know whether someone you pay to work with agrees to keep you happy! Lol.

As one of the first people mounted, I'd got pushed to the back to get out of the way of the mounting block, and ended up last in the hack's queue behind the big marching horse. Frankie kept falling behind, whereas in our first hack she was up the arse of Finn whether I wanted her to be or not. If I squeezed, she obligingly picked up the pace and would catch up, but last time I hadn't needed to control her pace as much. The main trail was also much drier than last time, as it had been 20oc and over for a week: she took me wide into trees without needing to at the first opportunity, and while I let her last time, I saw no good reason not to take the trail now that the going was much less heavy. Outside leg and inside hand brought her off her long-way round, and she got the message: she didn't veer off trail again until we got to a part near the end of the hack where the sun hadn't reached and it was still a bog.

Soon into the ride, a steepish hill came up: I knew last time that this is the first canter point, and not only that, but had been one of the greatest displays of a horse's power I had ever felt!  I was excited as soon as I saw it, and Frankie took off like a bat out of hell. Half way up, the gradient changes a bit and so does the pace; Frankie took it a bit slower than she did last time at this point, but given the heat I couldn't blame her. I was cooking and my job was much easier than hers!

After a bit of road work, we hit a pedestrian bridge over a tree-filled valley, as we had last time. This time though, things were quieter so all I could hear now were the musical echoes of  8 horses hooves coming back from the trees at different times. It was such a fantastic noise, and such a beautiful view from so high up on such a bright day (so bright I rode in my prescription specs in fact): I'll never forget it :)

Soon after, the marching horse was allowed further up the queue with the bigger horses, and I followed it; Frankie had kept her pace much better when she was in the snake last ride out, so I wanted to try taking her off the end of the queue. It worked: luckily she stopped falling back, but wasn't as keen as being up the horse's in fronts bum, so I wasn't correcting her and slowing her like on the first hack. (This was very apparent in the days that followed, as I'd no DOMS in my lats whatsoever, whilst I'd been stiff and sore for days after my first ride on Franks).

The canter work came up thick and fast early on: we cantered on stretches we'd only trotted on in my first hack, and using the same routes as the first time (bar the extra bit in the river today), we got the same points far sooner than we had last time. The adrenaline and wind in my face had my eyes watering, and it felt good.  We then switched routes in the glen though, and I saw two ponies in a tape-edged field trash their electric fencing as we trotted past. I thought we were going to have a few new followers, not a safe or tempting prospect, but luckily they never made it over to us. We almost immediately hit a route with steps though: the wooden edged steps that are a meter or so deep, as you normally get in hilly walking routes in forest parks. We mostly went up the stairs, but descend a few short stretches of stairs: one of the regular hackers said it's much nicer this way, than doing the reverse and mostly going down them to get home. It didn't bother me though: I learned on my first hack how sure-footed Frankie is, and how she chooses what she sees as the most secure routes. Also, the steps were more than deep enough to be easy for her as she's so short-coupled. In fact, even at full-pelt canter, I felt confident in this second ride to learn forward to bend to the side to avoid big branches, without fear of my losing my balance or causing Frankie to lose hers. Taking this glen-route through the trees was a beautiful experience, smelt fantastic, and we were all glad to be in the shade. We even stopped to give the horse's a break at this point, with the horses nibbling on a shaded grass verge. It sort of marked the end of peace and quiet though: as isexpected for a weekend ride in blazing sunshine, the rest of the way had many more pedestrians to navigate and slow down dor.

I don't think we had any undisturbed canters after the first four or five: pedestrians, buggies and dog-walkers all appeared at the other canter points, so we always got a premature call to slow down. We reached the fast canter stretch from last time: the point where our leader told us to give it some welly, and without asking Turbo Cob really took off like a racehorse. (I knew that she could easily could have been in a gallop if I was in the two point position). The first time however, we'd waited until we'd got through the stone tunnel to make the transition up; in fact, the lead rider made it our marker. This time, we took off as soon as we hit the straight; Frankie was fly again, I was keeping my mouth shut after the smack in the gob I'd got from a branch in one of the last canters, and the noise thundering through that stone tunnel was amazing! It was brief but intense, and much like the gentle, delayed echoes of the valley, was on the greatest noises I have ever heard!  However, we soon saw people on this stretch, so while everyone else was on a normal canter, Frankie was in a Turbo canter, and our sudden stop became a sliding stop, reining-style! I'd glued  myself on by letting my leg to creep forward a bit, something I feel I have to do when she's going so fast, and it paid off: I didn't shift forward at all when we slid to a stop!  We never went as fast again, but apart from the final canter stretch (the same final canter stretch as the first hack) which is short and sedate, we always had to stop prematurely for oncoming pedestrians. Almost all of them were lovely about seeing us, while one man pushed his buggy and said “Wow! Look at how big they all are!” his friend pushing another buggy retorted with “FUCKING HORSES!!!”  Well mate, we've as much right to be here as you, and were polite enough to walk, not trot or canter, as soon as we saw you and your buggies. You spoilt our fun, dickhead: we did nothing to affect your stroll.

We had a different leader for this ride, who was on a pony called Shiloh rather than a big, daft, show-jumping horse. I could hear her give commands much better than the previous leader, and I liked that. I also got more chat on the ride: from being asked to change positions a few times because ponies were kicking each other, I ended up between two friends and we all chatted together. They introduced their ponies to me, Toby and Laurel (the former of which David recommended for me, but I think he's a bit small personally), and we chatted about their experiences at the yard. Apparently the hacks run all  year round, and they've been out when the puddles are ice rinks rather than mud wallows, and still they canter! I said it sounded terrifying: am not sure I'd fancy that (though if I was to trust anyone's footing, it would be Frankie's). They'd only been riding there 6 months, but hacked exclusively and loved it. I enjoyed the company, and recommended Turbo Cob to them.

On the final stretch having crossed the river, the two friends fell back for the final minutes back onto the yard. During the ride, I'd have to give Frankie the canter aids almost every time – she was slower to change up than the first hack, even though she had no less room to move and the horses in front were cantering already. All I could think was that maybe she was worried about getting close to Toby, whereas she'd been glued to Finn's bum without fear on her first escapade with me.  Well, with the Toby and Laurel behind me, and me now following this gorgeous dark bay (who I think was Hero – a horse David said I should ride) I think I got my answer. I knew there was no more trot work at this point, so was tempted to take my feet out of my stirrups as the old man on Hero had done before me. (Two hours of heels down does make one's toes feel a bit odd).Well, I'm glad I didn't, because approaching the yard, with Toby behind me rather in front of me for the first time in the ride, Frankie let out the biggest, filthiest single buck I've ridden in a long time – she was totally aiming for him!  Those hind legs powered her up rather high, so I was glad to have had my stirrups!  I moved her forward, walked beside Hero, and then we hit the yard. I took a couple of minutes to wiggle my toes about and circle my ankles before jumping off.  I dismounted to again have a disinterested horse, becoming more inquisitive with a good old scratch.  I took her for hosing down, and she stood like a lamb.  After a good old rub, I took her to the water trough, fussed over her and a yard hand took her away.  Turns out the only thing more fun than an unknown hack on an unknown Turbo Cob is a second hack on the Turbo Cob, knowing exactly the pleasures in store 80)

As it's my birthday this Thursday (14^th), I'm booked in for the Sunday morning hack a few days afterwards as a treat.  I must admit, while I adored both rides on the Turbo Cob, I'm very tempted to ask for something different this time. I'm not bored of Frankie (she's too much fun for that), and she was in no way bad. I mean, having to give canter aids and having to push her into not falling behind are hardly sins or problems – they were just a relative difference from hacks one and two.  I've no doubt I'll ask for the Turbo Cob again in future, but I'm excited by the idea of riding new horses, especially as I hadn't known any of the other 7 horses on my ride this time. Each one was new to me! That variety really thrills me. I’ve also realised why I adore hacking so much: at no other time does horse riding feel so much like a leisure activity or so much as an adrenaline-fuelled sport. The coupling of speed and adrenaline, with meandering through beautiful views is one of life’s most beguiling juxtapositions. Schooling feels like a true sport: requiring fitness, training, persistence and determination. How many other people can call their hobby a sport, an adrenaline-rush and a leisure activity? J

As my present, Tom's paying for me to have a private dressage lesson at the city yard on my actual birthday. I asked on the phone which instructor was best for flatwork and dressage, and have managed to get her despite the short notice. You can't book horses but can request them, but I was so quickly rushed off the phone I didn't get a chance to ask for Theo as I'd planned to. Still, I was clear on the phone I wanted to do flatwork, and if they check their paperwork to see my height, weight and experience, they should see I'm an advanced rider. I'm hopeful that it'll be the right horse for the job, rather than the Groupon flatwork lesson I had where they'd only caught in novice horses to hedge their bets. (I still had a brilliant lesson though, and got Whisperer the novice horse to do much more than is usually asked of her, to the point that she transformed from dependable plod to excitable, bucking horse). I should be riding on Saturday evening too at my usual yard, so hopefully I'll have three beaming horse blogs coming up this week. I'm so exited already!

26/6/12 Hot Flatwork on Murphy

 I rode outside today as the weather was glorious: it was about 20oC with a bit of a breeze off the river/sea that runs beside the yard and the sun out.  We're not allowed to ride in short sleeves though for H&S reasons, so I had to put a layer on to ride. I knew it would be hard work, but I'm usually a sweaty mess from my hat alone after a lesson, so I figured it wasn't much different to get my whole body in on the act and got in the frame of mind to work.

Murphy followed suit, and warming him up went well. The trot-to-canter transitions were particularly nice: a quiet leg back, squeeze, and we'd a lovely, soft up-transition each time. One I'd done the same on both reins, the real schooling begun, and P wanted to see if I could get Murphy working in an outline. I know I'm capable of it, but I also know it's an uphill struggle on the riding school horses and they're never asked to do it, and often don't even get asked for any life in their trots or canters. It also means it takes a hell of a lot of leg to get them between leg and hand.  P told me to take up the contact, make sure my hands were elastic, and open up my inside hand with my leg firmly on. On and off, most of the lesson was taken up with this exercise.  I could feel Murphy working below me: he'd collected, and while the rhythm was the same, his stride was shorter and with more impulsion. As we were outdoors we had an audience, and loads of the kids said they'd never seen Murphy pick his feet up like that before.

 That little horse was working his socks off, but he wasn't consistently on the bit. I was sweating and steaming in all my layers, and could not give any more leg than I was already; I didn't have the stamina to give any more and push him that bit more.  I was however delighted with the quality of his trot, which transferred to the snippets of canter work we did for variety, and without concentrating on the outside track and circles, Murphy was working, bending and not cutting or falling in. He was so busy grafting, that he really followed my shoulders – something he never  usually does, despite my best efforts. (Usually if you so much as let you mind fleet for a second, Murphy's cut part of the paddock or manege off).  I was pleased with what I'd done overall; I know my core let me down and I got on his forehand on occasions when putting my leg on, making it harder for Murphy to work, and Murphy gave me what he could. It was not perfect, but it was of a high enough standard that I was chuffed. I knew what I'd done wrong, and that's half the battle. I've missed two weeks of Pilates classes as I've been invigilating exams, and it showed! I look forward to trying again, having less heat to content with, and having my core keeping my posture better. The compliments from the audience helped too. I do so love that pony :)

May '12: Two Free Rides

Having gone done midweek a couple of times to see P after Uni, she offered me two free rides. The first was in a lesson with folk I know from Saturday: a bunch of sisters who can be frustrating as they don't listen, and with no dual controls when learning to ride, it is one of P's bug bears (she's been known to stop teaching those who don't listen) and also a middle-aged German woman who also doesn't listen very much. I was on Guinness and knew immediately why I was there without being asked: to be start of the queue and listen to P, so the rest would have to follow suit or else crash into/fall behind my horse.  I was right: I was put as ride leader.

Guinness is better in group lessons, but only in the snake: he likes to be behind horses so that he knows what to do and can get on without with any flapping legs or crops from his usually novice rider. He also likes to race and get caught up with the horse in front, because being close up means going slower.  At the front of the queue he sees no benefit and goes back to his lazy self, but not today: he quickly worked out I was boss and not taking no for an answer, and he became a dream. I think I used the crop 3, maybe 4 times in total: I cannot explain what kind of record that is for such a stubborn, leg-dead horse! Voice and squeezes were enough, and the compliments came rolling in: not just from P but from the fellow riders, as every single one of them has a problem getting him going. I've been there too, and remember how others got so much more out of him than I could; now I'm in that position where I'm the one working him well and it felt like a great mark of my progress 80)

The lesson was a jumping lesson: I've done bits of jumping the past few months, but never a full indoor course. I walked it properly, focusing on the turns and where to come off the wall for a clear round versus a jump off course and performed it perfectly: did every single textbook line, and Guinness was forward and keen to go with me. It felt great. No one that followed took the correct lines: they all cut everything off and jumped it with jump-off turns, but without the forwardness and rhythm needed. I can get that the kids might not see it, but I was surprised the adult didn't, especially as I'd laid it out so clearly and P praised my lines. Anyway, on came the jump-off and the adult said “Oh, if I do this all in canter, I'll be faster right?” I didn't give a proper reply: the answer in this indoor arena was clearly no: the best thing is to canter over the first fence to land further away, as this is when the clock starts, making the course shorter. Then, with such tight turns and angled jumps possible (all only 60cm or so), rhythm, balance and momentum could only be maintained with a forward trot. I'd done this, and done the course in 15.2 seconds. The only person to beat me was a rider on a Welsh A about 3 hands smaller than Guinness, who accidentally galloped on her rider. I was happy a 14.2 arm chair was only half a second behind the much more manoeverable Welshy, the smallest riding pony on the yard. Chuffed in fact 80)

I'd forgotten how much fun jumping courses can be, and how much I enjoy the technical side of things. Even watching SJ on TV, I'm analysing the course, looking at lines into fences, and seeing alternative routes and gutsy turns in jump-offs. Analysing jump-off courses and seeing who's bold enough to  make the turns and lines I see is my favourite part of watching things like the Global Champions Tour, Nation's Cup and Rolex World Cup competitions. I love to see riders take paths I have completely discounted as being too tight from the TV map of the course: I will never forget Philip Weishaupt getting a fence judge to move because he was to to take a path so short and tight, leaving about one stride at an angle over a gappy vertical and made it. He rightly won that leg of the  World Cup! I love that boldness, that foresight, and the knowing your horse so well; a real skill I think.

The second ride was just 20mins and not a lesson: P told me to ride like I owned Guinness. I wish I'd had more notice and I would have had more of a plan. I was thinking as I warmed him up though and he knew it: asked for a canter to warm up and because I didn't tell him, I asked while thinking what to do next, he played me. It lasted all of 30 seconds: my voice, legs and crop gave him a firm clue that laziness would not be tolerated. He gave up immediately – I cantered on both reins really relaxed, with no leg on. He knew he'd underestimated me and yielded.

We did some circle work and I struggled to get him to bend. I did some 'round the jump' stuff (turning in as small an elipse as possible literally around the jump, straightening up on the long sides as it were). That helped, but I wish I'd spent more time doing that until I'd got the bend through his body as well. I find that Guinness sometimes gives me one and not the other: I think he often genuinely doesn't know what's being asked though as no one else asks him for a bend.

I tried some collected work: I used sitting trot to get it in that pace and it worked a treat. I tried to collect the canter the way I'd done on Whisperer in my lesson at the city yard: legs on but half-halting. Guinness had no idea what I meant: he kept breaking down into a wonderfully forward and generous trot (he wasn't rushing through my hand like a youngster). It was coming to the end of my 20mins and I knew I needed to warm-down, so I gave up on that but have made a note that it's something I could work on under P's guidance.  I brought him back to walk, he did some lovely leg yields for me right across the school, but was moving less on his good rein than his weaker one oddly enough. It was going so well though that I pushed him up to trot and he kept it up for me, rather than dying out towards the end despite my leg being on. I was chuffed! He really stretched down when we free-walked at the end, and I was generally pleased at what we'd got out of our 20mins.

A Quick Round-Up, Including Tom on a Horse!

Once again, I’ve sort of lost my mojo for writing. About a month ago I had my first lesson on Murphy since Guinness came back into work. It was a total surprise, as I’d been riding His Sturbborness for months, and I was delighted. I found myself distracted though, and I’d been wondering if I hadn’t been riding Murphy as I’m close to his top weight limit (though I have been losing weight since I’m back at the gym, doing Pilates and eating better). Still, I was paranoid about him carrying me properly without being sore, so I didn’t push and get the beautiful work from him that I know I can. I just had fun pottering about in walk, trot and canter. One of the kids also came in worrying one of the ponies looked colicy, so when P said she needed to go check I said we can just cut the lesson a bit short as I wasn’t in the groove. She told me we’d make up time mid-week when she’d let me ride for free, but I was feeling too self-conscious about myself and my riding to be excited. It was just one of those days, and I quickly brushed it off.

I then had Guinness again for a couple of weeks. One of the sessions was outdoors, in the smaller of the two paddocks. He was lazy and resistant, whereas usually once he’s outside he grows an extra hand high, snorts and thoroughly enjoys himself. I was so busy pushing him with my legs that I felt my posture suffering for it. I was being typically hard on myself about it at the time, but P just said that performance fluactes some times (and it does: one week I’ll ride below par, but then be grand for months) and to feel not only that something was wrong but pin-pointing what and where was a sign of progress. She was of course right, and after a bit of a stew I forgave myself as usual. I did have an audience though, which was annoying!

The next week I had Guinness back indoors, and there was nothing getting in my way this time: he was going to listen to minimal leg, I was going to be sitting correctly holding my posture well and he was going to listen. He soon worked out that my way was the easy way, and gave me some nice forward work including extended trot and leg yielding in both walk and trot. It felt wonderful to really ride him well, to ride him like so few can, and to see him enjoy it: offering me things rather than me demanding them. He of course tried it on at all times (he always moves away from the wall in one place if you’re not conscious of your outside rein and inside leg at all times) but not once did he get away with it. It felt wonderful!

Last week my OH Tom said he’d like to come with me, support me in my hobby. It was a bit out of the blue to be honest, but in 2years he’s never come along (not even when it was 5mins away on the bus), and I have only a handful of photos of me riding. I was excited at the idea of introducing him to the friends I’ve made there, to the horses I love, and to see how happy it makes me. My aim was for him to appreciate that I love horses and want one in my life, even though it will be a strain on time and finances in the future. If he understands, that’s all I need.

I had an even better day than I bargained for. I introduced Tom to all my two and four-legged friends, though he never stroked a single horse. He said I was a horse woman, he was a dog man, so when the JRT pup (well, yearling now) came over he was in his element. It came close to my lesson time and I was told to tack Murphy up: I was delighted. I like riding Murphy at the best of times, and I think he helps my higher end work in a different way from Guinness. I was also worried that I’d have Guinness, he’d be in one his moods, and Tom would think I’d been wasting my money all this time, looking like a novice rider! So with my beloved pony ready, and the fear of a stubborn Guinness removed, I was excited.

P was busy with something, so I got on Murphy alone with Tom watching. He was pleased to see how quiet he was when I was getting on, and we chatted. Tom had picked up earlier how Guinness really wasn’t stepping under himself with his cocky rider on board: as Tom describes it, horses are rear-wheel drive, and just knowing that fact was enough for his inexperienced eye to spot a horse not using himself. I was proud. I also knew he’d see the difference in me getting Murphy to get the engine in gear, as opposed to the kid he saw ride him earlier who struggled into tranter (never a canter at both ends) and couldn’t get him on the outside track.

I did lots in the lesson: extending and collecting the trot, some leg yielding (though surprisingly Murph was not as attentive to my leg pressure as Guinness – the first time Guinness has been more sensitive at anything compared to Murph) and circle work. The circle work was hard as I was trying to bend Murphy around my leg and get the correct bend in the neck. Murphy is not ridden like that though: he’s ridden by kids that use their hands, not by those who use their seat and legs. I therefore varied between getting some bend in a spiral not a circle, or getting something closer to a circle without bend. It must have looked a novice mess, but I could hear P explaining that I’m about the only person she asks to do circle work as it’s harder than it looks for horse and rider, and that I get the bending versus turning distinction. I’m only sorry we didn’t have time to do the ‘turn around the jump’ exercise, as that really helped me to actually getting Guinness to go around the school with the correct flexion a few weeks earlier: a feat I have seen no one else ever achieve in fact!

Anyhow, all went well but I enjoyed the canter work the most. In some of the previous lessons involving extension and lateral work, we often never get into a canter: me and the horse are genuinely working to the point of being tired without it, and I don’t miss it. To canter Murphy was fun, and while he tried to tranter, it only took my voice for my to get an active, beautiful canter. I grinned from ear to ear on both reins, and made sure I squeezed some walk to canter transitions when P let me do my own thing for 10mins. It was fast, easy and glorious, and I felt like my posture and seat were perfect the whole time. Murphy moved easily underneath me: my worry that he would be uncomfortable with my weight felt long away in my past.

P. then said that if it was okay, she’d cut my lesson short and give Tom a shot on my beloved Murphy. She got a hell yes from me, and an agreement from Tom. She actually didn’t cut my time short in the end, letting me ride for an hour before switching. Tom got a hat on, mounted up and off he went! He had W to lead him for a while, but very quickly she just went along beside him. They even had a go at a few trots: Tom was struggling at rising trot, as all beginners to, but given the option of that or stay in the ‘easier’ (as a beginner) sitting trot, I'm proud that he gave rising a damn good try. He respected that I was a good rider anyway, but seeing how I’d extended, collected and played with this pace while he hadn’t got the up and down, I think he really felt it! Unfortunately it was only a 15min ride as we had to rush off for the last bus home, but he was smiling and happy, I was chuffed to bits. He even dismounted more tidily than I did, and finally stroked and patted a horse, even braving giving Murph a mint from his hand. The only objection I had was that I got photos of him, but he never took any of me either riding or with the horses in the yard whilst cuddling. Boo! I guess he’ll have to come back 80) Here's  a pic of two favourite fellas on this earth (if Dad was there, it would've been my favourite three):

(Excuse the bright white trainers by the way: he wore his new trainers as he wanted to be comfy on his feet for the day, and neither of us knew he'd end up riding, despite the fact he accused me and P of hatching this plan weeks in advance)!

I also shared my dream with him and P: ideally I would like to have two horses rather than just one. I’d like my ‘dressage horse’: something that I can school and really enjoy some flatwork progression with, and then a heavier set fun cob or draft, ideally a Clydie (would quite like a Welsh D as my dressage horse, as I’m in envy of Fiona Hunt and Miss Congeniality II). I’d like the steady-eddy bigger horse to make Tom fall in love with riding, and for us to go hacking together: me to help the dressage horse totally relax, and him to ride the Clydie and enjoy the sunshine, views and time together. P said 2 horses was restrained: all the kids could name a dozen types of horse they wanted, and it sounded lovely. Even Tom smiled. On the journey home he quizzed me as to all the associated fees for keeping a horse, to try and work out what kind of income would make it viable. He’s a trainee auditor and accountant, and that’s the practical side of him: I was delighted he was thinking about when, not if. I was also pleased with the immediate respect and praise Tom had for P. He saw very quickly what she means to the yard, to me, and how good she is at her job. I was chuffed, because P wasn't sure Tom liked him as she found his dry humour hard to read!

Anyway, Tom actually almost came to the yard this weekend again. He said he wanted to, but he had things planned already with some old Uni mates, so I told him not to, but he’s welcome anytime. The city riding school do what they call Treks: it’s essentially a hack, but for beginners and novices as it’s walk and trot work only – no cantering. You can get one hour in a school, then go trek for an hour: I’d love it if he learned how to do rising trot without a lead so that we could so something like that together. It doesn’t need to become a hobby of his, but to appreciate my enjoyment and as something new to do together once in a while would be fab. It is my birthday next month after all, and quite honestly I’d rather have a walk-trot lesson and one hour trek with him, than a 2hr fast hack alone and Tom not interested in my hobby. Given how much I adored my two hours on Fun Time Frankie, the Welsh D Turbo Cob, you know I don’t mean that lightly! In fact, my little sister has never ridden but would quite like to: if they could have their first whole lesson together and we go out for an hour on the horses in July, that'd be perfect!!!

Anyway, this week I had Guinness again. I wasn’t disappointed, as I do love him, and he really had been a lazy pig in the lessons I’d watched. I’d also taught a mini-lesson for one of the kid volunteers, seeing her tackle a lazy pony well under my instruction, and was in the mood for enjoying the success that J did.

Guinness was a delight to get ready: he can nip when doing up his girth, but he stood like a lamb for me, and even lowered his head and brought it around to me to put his reins over his head. He stood still when I fiddled with my stirrups, rather than walking off as he sometimes does. He was even off the leg in walk, but was playing his wandering off the outside track trick (he never won, not once), and his keenness died in trot. I wasn’t taking no for an answer though, especially as I’d an audience – folk I’d enjoyed on the yard but who’d left 6 months ago. I didn’t want to seem like I hadn’t improved! It took the shortened reins trick (Guinness can go like the proverbial sh*t off a stick when doing this, as he knows people shorten the reins to take the crop to his rear end without him bucking). My elbows and hands were nice and soft though, so I could comfortably maintain the shorter rein when I needed to (without flicking the schooling whip at all, that is).

The canter work was a blast: Guinness has one of the most powerful rear ends of any horse I’ve ever ridden, and I rode big horses as a teen. When that backside works, it is glorious. After one circuit of canter when he realised lazy wouldn’t cut it, he opened up and it was fab, and even better on the second rein. I can go weeks without cantering Guinness if the trot work’s hard enough, so I had an absolute ball. I also saw the difference in my fitness: I could canter a lot more circuits in a row before I could feel my CV fitness come into play.

The trot work was good: he tried to die off at the end of the extended trots, but I kept on him. I’d like to work on my pelvis action when doing this though (it’s rising extended trot), and I think Pilates will help, as it has so much in less than a month already.

The circle work was tricky: same as Murphy, he doesn’t get asked to flex unless I’m riding him, and things were more octagonal than circular. He also tried to get out of the circle by literally jumping out of it, as there was a jumped near the circle’s circumference but didn’t make it that far. I then moved my circle up to the top where P could see better, and where Guinness wasn’t so distracted by the jump and poles. She recommended dropping my inside hand and it worked a treat: I ended up circling him in a bend, spiralling inwards until it was almost a turn, and then widening him out with only my inside leg again. It felt wonderful: I wish I’d tried it sooner! The livery that came back to visit also gave me a lift to the bus stop, and complimented the work I’d done on a horse she knows is as lazy and stubborn as the day is long, as she’s had lessons on him too. She even wants her daughter to start doing it on her pony as he’s very one sided in his suppleness, and took a few notes from me and Guinness. I took that as a big compliment and almost blushed!

So again, not a lesson that looks amazing to anyone else, but given the level these RS ponies are ridden at, either very basic or for jumping only, I felt pleased. I do feel that I school the ponies almost as much as I’m learning myself, and it’s a nice feeling. I still can’t get away from the fact though that the ceiling’s fairly low in terms of what I can learn: P told me only a couple of weeks earlier that really I’m at the point where I need my own horse to progress, because it’s one step forward on the horses I ride, then someone else gets on and it’s an immediate step backwards. She’s right, and I do wonder if it was a push to move schools. I’d still like a lesson on the city school’s dressage schoolmaster, to see where the new ceiling is and what their teaching is like (though my Groupon private lesson suggested it was good, but clearly it’s a SJ yard too generally speaking). Maybe if enough birthday money rolls in, I’ll be able to afford a hack and a private flatwork lesson with them.

So onwards and upwards! P is keen for me to call down and ride mid-week this week, but I only remembered today that I’m invigilating afternoon exams at Uni, so probably can’t make it. Shame, because that’s two invites in as many weeks. I’m worried I’ll stop getting them or she’ll feel snubbed! I’m off to N.I. to see my family at the start of June though, and as I’ll be missing my private lesson the weekend I’m away, I’ve booked myself a discounted 2hr hack with the city school a few days before I leave to make up for it. For only £5 more than my private lesson, I’ll be getting 1hr 15mins more riding, and a trip through the countryside for good measure. It was too good to turn down! Here’s hoping for the Turbo Cob again, or if she’s not available, maybe the 18.2 dressage horse (who behaved impeccably when on my hack last time) might be available. Whatever horse it is, I can’t wait! Roll on 27th May 80)

Happy Hacking: Friday 13th is Not So Unlucky!

On Thursday, I had my PhD Viva. For those who don't know how a PhD works, you spend 2.5-3 years doing novel research, then you write a book (a thesis) about what you did, why you did it, what you found, what it means, and how it all relates back to the relevant field of  research. To examine whether you're fit to become a Doctor at the end of it (PhD literally stands for Doctor of Philosophy, which essentially means a Doctor of Knowledge, whilst MD means Doctor of Medicine), that thesis is sent to two, sometimes 3, experts who then come and examine you. That examination, a prolonged interview on your work, is known as a Viva, and given that 3-4 years work are pinned upon this one grilling, it's one of the most stressful experiences a person will go through in terms of your academia/work life. After 2hrs my examiners called a 5min break: it was 4:30pm and we were still on the first chapter. I had four experiments and a general discussion still to go and thought we'd all be there until bed time. As it turned out, after four hours of difficult questioning I was sent out of the room for their deliberation: upon being welcomed back in, I was told that they'd be recommending to the relevant committee that, after making the suggested changes they brought up during those four hours, that I be made Dr Lynn. I was over the moon: I will officially be Dr Debz once that piece of paper is placed in my hand at graduation later this year!

The point of me explaining all this however, is to highlight that I needed a way to wind down, clear the cobwebs and celebrate. I had a discount voucher for a second ride at the city riding school so yesterday on Friday 13^th, one day after passing my viva, I was due on a 2hr hack in woodland for only £25. I hadn't been able to think about it as the Viva nerves had consumed me, so only on Thursday night/Friday morning did the excitement begin. I have to say, the experience wasn't a let down! I hadn't been hacking since I was a young teen, and it had always been very tame – walking and trotting. I was looking forward to cantering in the beautiful outdoors, and they were beautiful on this cool, dry but sunny afternoon – perfect conditions really!

I arrived 15mins before the hack and joined the queue for the office, which in the end wasn't opened up until after the hack was meant to have already started. The SPCA were there, so I wondered if they were holding a meeting and that was the cause of the delay. (That's not necessarily an issue though: I know lots of folk who turn out their laminitic horses in starvation paddocks, and the public walking past have called the RSPCA over a horse without food, without seeming to notice the animal's impeccable body condition, and that it doesn't live in such a sparse field 24hrs a day without hay). I was the fourth of six hackers to make it into the office, even though I was the 3^rd to arrive. The 3 before me had been more times before than I had, and were given the list of horses to choose from. The woman who'd pushed in was read them out and I heard Theo – the 18.2hh dressage schoolmaster that had been recommended to me by my private instructor there. I was gutted when she took him, but to be fair, out for a hack may not have been the best chance to try riding a giant and to ride this dressage horse for the first time. I wasn't asked who I wanted, but was told I was on Frankie. I had no idea what that would entail, but agreed with an excited smile :)

Out of the office we piled, and staff went into the private barn and started to bring horses out. First out was a small bay tobiano horse called Clyde. Then came a beautiful chestnut giant, and I knew already it was Theo. He was fidgety, but a total looker. A 16hh or so bay Appaloosa came out, and I knew from the FB page that was Dotty, so didn't get excited when I saw it come out as I had the others. Then came out a tobiano pony called Finley, so I knew that was for the teen girl. There was then only two of us left, and a dishevelled but sweet looking 15.2hh  or so grey horse came out. I started to get excited: I love a grey and the horse looked sweet, even though she looked like she'd not seen a brush for a while! (As it turns out, they'd been brought in from the field that morning and giving how muddy our hacking route was, I was soon to understand why they hadn't bothered with better turn out). The name called was not Frankie however, and the nerves were now building having had the longest wait for a mystery horse, and knowing the next set of hooves to come along were for me.  I didn't have long to wait and out came this very heavy set little cob, about 14hh of solid Welsh D mare, named Frankie. She was a gorgeous bay with a very symmetrical blaze, and reminded me of Fiona Hunt's dressage Section D Genie (Miss Congeniality II when competing). I love cobs, especially heavy weights and maxis, and I guessed she was going to be fun but potentially opinionated as a Welsh D mare and indicated by her 3 ring gag, on a single rein and on the bottom hole.  I got up, we got the stirrups sorted, although the women didn't check them for evenness as they had done with all the other riders as the rest were already queueing to get off the yard. I was later going to regret not having my suspicion that my right one was a tad longer checked!

I got into line, and told to cut in front of the grey at the back as 'she' was faster. I presume they meant my mare, but I didn't know for sure. I did that, so was 5^th in the snake of 6, immediately behind the teenage girl on Finley, and therefore quite far behind the leader on her own horse. I didn't hear what she said about the river we needed to cross, but I trusted Frankie – she has hundreds if not thousands of years of breeding to live in the Welsh mountains and navigate various terrains running through her veins. She took a slightly different path across to the others and made much more of a crescent. I quickly learned (we'd been walking only 2mins before the river as it essentially runs past the yard) that her spatial awareness does not include her rider – she is happy to brush past holly, gorse, other spiky trees and even medium-thickness branches in her coarse winter coat. I was less happy, and was pleased I was wearing my heavier black breeches, and that I'd gone for my hoody over my two long-sleeve tops rather than a body warmer that would have left my arms more exposed. Anyhow, we made it across and again she took a slightly different route up the bank, but I relaxed the contact to let her decide.

The paths leading away from the river were pure mud: dark, wet, slippy mud. This is why I clicked that the horses were so dirty already: because there clearly was no point in cleaning them to be ridden! We got to a bit where there was a track sunk at least a foot down from the grass and little more than a foot wide. For the first time I heard the leader – she'd shouted trot, and I couldn't believe there was enough room for all these variously shaped horses and ponies to move their legs through this narrow corridor at speed! Again I gave Frankie her head and off we went! My suspicions were immediately confirmed: my right stirrup was indeed longer. Add this to Frankie's choppy stride (she rode even smaller than Murphy at my regular school: more like she was 13hh, and I've not ridden something that little in over 10 years). I got the rhythm but it was not beautiful: it was bouncy, fast and I was struggling to work against that longer stirrup and keep myself centred. Once we were back at walk I had a go at fixing my stirrup, but the next hole was miles away: this was as good as it was going to get without stopping the whole ride so that I could halt, loop the leather through the stirrup then start from scratch regarding which hole was correct. I didn't feel brave enough to hold up the ride, so I just agreed with myself to deal with it.

We got back to walk and the track widened, with a variety of puddles across it. I let Frankie navigate and she took a path almost entirely different to the horses in front: it was very thigmotaxic though, as the sides were clearly the best ground, and I got scraped through a lot of shrubbery! She clearly knew what she was doing though (she never slipped once the whole 2hrs, besides the fact that the ground was close to quick-mud in places) and was glad to be choosing the route!

We got out of the woodland, river-side mud and onto firmer, open ground. I thought to myself “I'm on a strong pony that I don't know, in an open space right now, and I've nice relaxed reins and a trust in her: I sometimes don't even have that on the horses I know in the giant derby paddock at my own yard!” I was also pleased that from the off I'd had a nice easy contact, and was not carrying tension or nerves through my hands as I used to. (If riding a horse in the big paddock for the first time I often used to feel I needed a short rein, just in case, and the horses knew straight away that I was nevous). Anyway, I felt Frankie jog and lo and behold, we were at a trot section again. We stopped and the leader turned to us (well, as much as her horse let her, as he'd spin and leap when she tried to stop him) and she said we'd be cantering up the hill in front of us. It was quite steep, but I was excited: I love the feeling of cantering uphill, and as it's easier for the horse to balance compared to downhill, making it safer for a first canter or gallop. I did not give Frankie a single aid, and she took off: I honestly thought she was about to switch to gallop as she was going that fast, but when the steeper part on the bottom of the hill came up, she had to slow down, but the canter itself was collected and uphill as so much effort was put into attacking the gradient under us. This little heavy cob, carrying pretty much the maximum sized rider she comfortably could, took that hill like a race horse: it was amazing!  The big grey, almost 2 hands taller, was left eating our dust (well, our mud) behind us! It was thrilling: I adored it! I also seemed to get on better in canter with the uneven stirrups than in trot: I think maybe it's because I'd worked out how to keep both heels down in walk from the angle of my ankles, and it was easier to maintain that in canter than it was to rise evenly in a trot.

My Turbo Cob had come to life in that canter, and we'd both had a blast up the hill. In fact, partly though adrenaline and partly because my eyes steam in sunny or windy conditions, I had tears down my face. I wasn't crying, but my eyes were streaming, and it was amazing. As it turns out, that streaming happened at every canter :) We  met a public footpath and a bridge not long after that, and finally I started to relax and take in the views, knowing I was overcoming my stirrup lengths okay, and that while not as tidy as I would be with a bit of practice, I could easily ride all three of this fast pony's paces. One of the bridges I would have freaked out a bit about walking over on foot as I'm afraid of heights, but fed off Frankie's confidence and actually enjoyed the view when crossing it! We were in gorgeous woodland glens, with some parkland, and quaint villages. I couldn't believe that 30mins on a bus from the city centre had got me to a yard with such glorious hacking on its doorstep!

We had a mix of trot and canter work through a variety of countryside, and I got the hang of her choppy trot better. I collected her up at one point, and that trot was glorious: smooth and powerful, with her hocks under her. I finally felt like my trot work was tidy, and this little pony was giving me what I wanted with very little needed to achieve it. I quickly stopped worrying about tidiness though: anytime I was trotting or cantering, I was too busy enjoying it to see if the rider in front of me was riding beautifully or not. Even if the lady behind had been checking, I wouldn't have cared!

The route did involve some road work, but apart from one car that went past faster than was comfortable, the drivers were very courteous. Our leader waved to them as much as she could, but with a joggy, spinney horse who anticipated every fast section, she couldn't always take her hands off the reins. Even if she had of always waved, I hate bad manners from hackers, so I waved, smiled and said thank you to every driver, and even every pedestrian that was courteous in allowing us past, or showed consideration when passing us.

Along this hack, we met a lot of potentially spooky things. One man had his birds of prey out, and was trying to fly his eagle, who had jingly bells on its legs. He was trying to hold the bird steady on his glove to let us past before he released her. The first couple of horses freaked out a bit and really spooked at both the sight and the sound of it. Frankie just looked at it, kept an ear locked on it, but nothing more than that. We met some lorries, and heard cars with beeping horns – not so much as a blink. There were also two aggressive collies in a garden, constantly altering their position to threaten the snake of horses as we walked past, and Frankie again did nothing but bend her neck to look as she walked. She actually gave me confidence, as the scars on my right arm are from being attacked by a collie, so when I see the breed, especially off lead, I can get very nervous. These dogs could easily have cleared their garden wall too. She didn't seem to care, so I guessed this was a regular thing and they don't ever jump out. What a super little cob to look after me like that!

We met lots of people along the way. One woman was out walking her kids and upon seeing us said “Mummy, can I ride a horse some day?” I jokingly apologised for the expensive mistake of bumping into us out hacking, and the woman on the grey horse told the kid how fun it was and that they'd love it!  There was also a kid playing in its back garden, and when when we went past shouted “YAY: HORSIES!” One man and his son saw us coming along a narrow muddy path, so stood on the little  bit of grass verge to let us all past. I smiled and thanked him for letting us past, but they looked delighted to see us, as almost everyone on foot had. One man even stopped strimming the garden the moment he saw us coming, even though the noise wasn't very loud and didn't seem to bother the horses!

I have to say, I liked going through the towns the least. The smiles from the residents were lovely, and the trot work made the most amazing sound: a smattering of metal shoes on tarmac, hitting the ground at different times. Frankie however has steering drift: stick left is her default, and mostly it was right: often the puddles in the mud were best taken on the left, and on road work you must be left obviously. However, in towns, cars were often parked on the road, so we had to move along the ride side of them to rejoin the road's left edge. Frankie made sure she never touched them: she was not making sure where I was though: I literally had to left my left leg as high as I could, almost kicking myself in the backside, to make sure my foot didn't take out any wing mirrors. I tried at the second car to keep her further out by bring the right rein back, but she wouldn't alter her path. I'd not wanted to use my leg in case moving my heels was enough to brush the car, but quickly found that she attended much better to leg than hands, so was more prepared in advance. She was very obedient about it, but it required more concentration through the towns, and of course the views of houses weren't as nice as views of glens and hillsides!

We had another canter stretch once out of town: it was a dirt path through trees, and apart from a giant puddle which we were told to go through on the left, it was fairly straight. Frankie told me it was coming before the leader did, jogging as she had before every other up-transition. Frankie also seemed to know left was best, and I was swiped a lot by branches. None of them really hurt, but there was a thickish one that hit my hat, that I knew I would have been on the floor if I was one of those eejits that rides horses without a hat on! I wondered how the weave around the puddle would go but needn't have worried: Frankie was absolutely flying (not a riding school canter: I never had one of those lazy, lack lustre paces that needs to be worked for), and didn't motorbike at all: she stayed very upright any time she shifted to choose the ground she liked best, and I was concentrating so hard on keeping my backside in that little saddle with my uneven stirrups, along with enjoying the wind (but not branches) in my face to care about steering with my legs! (I also found that squeezing with my left leg meant that my foot slipped through the stirrup a bit as I moved it back to squeeze, so was reticent to leg-steer at speed). My eyes thoroughly streamed: I was worried at this point that I was panda eyed, but each canter was more exciting than the last, and after the nerves of wondering about sitting to it for that first time, each one was more enjoyable as that initial hurdle became further and further behind us.

One of the next canter stretches was the big one: this one the leader asked if it was okay if we went a bit faster this time. Faster, I thought? This pony can do faster without galloping? I was excited, and a tiny bit nervous, but in an anticipatory way rather than a frightened way.  We were told we'd walk under the stone bridge over our head and then we'd take off: slowing down would take time, so the leader would make a hand signal when she started to slow, and we had to pass it back to one another.  Her horse as usual literally leapt into action: going from halt and leaping forward into canter. Without touching Frankie she went like the proverbial crap off a stick: she was going so fast, and keeping up with the horses so well (remembering there's a 18.2hh ahead with a much bigger stride, also cantering quickly), I had to concentrate on keeping my bum stuck to the saddle! What I really wanted to do was lighten my seat: there was enough space to gallop, and it felt like she'd changed to a four beat stride already. I just wanted to get off her back and let her move, but didn't want to be a danger to the other riders in any way, by essentially giving a visual gallop signal. Frankie weaved a bit to stay on the best ground, and even with ducking and leaning to avoid the big ones I actually ended up with leaves in my mouth!  The end was on a very slight hill, so I actually saw the leader raise her hand, which I didn't expect. I literally didn't feel like I could let go on Frankie due to her speed, so I turned my head and shouted to the woman behind me to slow up.  It worked: we all came to a gradual and safe stop.  I wiped the stream of tears off my cheeks, picked the leaves out of my mouth, and gave Frankie a big wither scratch. That little pony blasted along, kept me on the best ground, and didn't let my bum in the saddle (rather than above it) get in the way of her speed. That canter/gallop stretch and this little Turbo Cob had given me some of the most thrilling few moments of my life!  I don't consider my riding a thrill sport: I don't jump the kind of heights that make even the best riders nervous, and I don't train race horses on gallops: I predominantly school lazy horses in basic dressage. I felt like I finally saw why some consider horse-riding a high-adrenaline, thrill-seeking sport, and I adored it!

The last parts of the ride were mostly through farms, and along B roads that only the farmers and their visitors would ever be on. We met lots of sheep, which weirded out one of the horses, and the most beautiful donkey I've ever seen who wanted to say hello. Me and the lady behind said “Aww!” as soon as we saw him.  We walked and trotted, and I took in the view, as we were on a hill at this point and had a lovely, broad view of the lands below. I tried leg yielding Frankie as she'd done so much of it without being asked, but she didn't get it: she was trying to respond to the rein as a directional aid, rather than a correction for the head as it were. I stopped immediately: I just wanted to see if she knew how to do it when asked, and while she might, she certainly didn't get it when I asked. That could be because we were hacking though: she wasn't there for schooling, she was there to have fun and copy the horses in front. She also wasn't generally responsive to the rein, although I did get some nice bend work when walking through the towns. I do wonder if she's used as a school pony as well as a hack, and what she's like if she does! My experience of Welsh Ds is that they're forward going, sharp and quirky. I couldn't tell with her as I wasn't giving aids: she was making all the changes before I asked for them, and she was definitely forward, but that may have been because she was enjoying it – her ears were pricked the whole time, but not in an over-vigilant, spooky way.

I thought all the cantering was over with, but the leader flagged up that we were to start another one. The girl in front of me said it was the last, but that, of all the hacking routes the yard could choose, this was the fastest, most fun/difficult one that there is, and that was due to having one of the more fun leaders on a speedy horse.  I was pleased she thought from looking at us all on the yard that we were capable of the tougher route!  As I knew this was the last one, I really relaxed and enjoyed it. It was perfect: we hit not a single spiked branch along the way, it was very fast but without getting to the point of feeling the pressure to stand and allow the gallop so much more easily. It was a perfect wind in the hair moment, and I was glad I knew it was the last so that I could savour it.

Eventually we came back to some narrow, muddy trails and I knew it must be another route down to the river and to the yard. I have to say, every time I thought the hack must be close to ending, we never seemed to hit familiar land. 2 hours really is a great length of time to ride: it felt like plenty without being too much. When we hit the familiar muddy trails, I wasn't disappointed. I felt like we'd seen a lot, done a lot and we'd hit many more canter stretches than I'd expected. My upper back was starting to stiffen, part from Frankie pulling a bit on occasion when I needed to steer (though mostly I kept the contact relaxed and gave her nothing to pull against), but mostly from maintaining my posture and also from altering my balance backwards and forwards and the hill and the impending branches called for it. The combination of satisfaction and discomfort signalled a perfect stop.  We had one final trot through the narrow channel of mud where our trotting had began, and then back to the river.  Frankie took a straighter path through the river this time, and I knew it would be good for taking some of the mud off.  Pulling up on the yard, we were warned about getting off due to our feet being asleep. My toes were definitely feeling it: I quite literally didn't let my heels up once, as I knew I needed to stretch into that longer stirrup at all times to remain glued into the saddle when my little tank raced off. I wiggled and turned them for a couple of minutes, enjoying my last bit of time on Frankie. I then swung my leg over and rather than jump off, slid down a bit so that the gap to the ground wasn't as big. I really noticed how much shorter she is compared to Guinness and Murphy though: the ground hit my feet sooner than I'd expected! I felt bad for the woman on Theo: I think I would have dismounted him at the stone-step mounting blocks, so I wouldn't be jumping down to earth from such a great height with frozen toes!

Frankie didn't seem very interested in me when I got off – she looked very distracted. I don't know if that was me loosening her girth and running the stirrups up: if she knew that mean bed time was just itching for a drink for instance. After a lip-quivering wither scratch though she was very interested, and started to interact with me. She nuzzled for a treat, but I didn't have any and I think it's yard policy not to either. I got her saddle and breast plate off though, and gave her a good scratch and rub, which she clearly enjoyed. David came to take her away (she was being turned straight back out into her field), so I gave her a pat, and off my little coblet went into the sunshine. I totally fell in love with that little pony over those two hours. Sure, I was scraped through some branches, but she'd looked after me totally: she always sought and found the best ground but without motorbiking or harshly weaving, she never spooked or misbehaved, she transitioned up as soon as the gap to the pony in front allowed, and came back to me when I asked her with my seat and voice. I felt much more a passenger than rider, but to me that was part of the joy: she had a blast on the trot and canter sections, and was not bored by knowing what was coming; rather the opposite in fact! She'd put up with my uneven trot with my wonky stirrups, and didn't abuse the long rein I gave her for pretty much all of the ride: when she did try to snatch reins I stopped her, and she never tried to bend for grass like the others!  She only ate when things fell into her mouth: when branches of tasty things were literally at mouth level. When that happened I gave her even more rein to allow her to: I was feeling hungry, and I was doing much less of the work!

I was delighted to have had such a fun, fast but safe ride for my first, proper hack.  I was also pleased with myself: I wasn't nervous about being in the big outdoors or riding a new horse, and was comfortable enough straight away to trust the mare to take the safest paths, allowing her the rein to move freely and use her neck fully for balance. Once upon a time I'd have been too nervous to try that. I was also pleased that I didn't let my stirrup get in the way, despite the fact that her paces could have easily bounced me out of that little saddle. I was also delighted that I enjoyed it so much: once upon a time I would have cried before those canter stretches at the idea of 'no control' and a pony blasting away without any aids. I loved Frankie for it!  It was definitely proof of how far my riding and confidence has come, and I know P will be proud of me when I tell her about it. Her aim has always been for me to get on any horse or pony with any way of going, and do anything on it, from hacking on holiday, to taking it out jumping.

One thing I did learn though: when I'm in a position to buy, I do want a horse that will hack out, alone and in company. We came across a grey horse and rider, and when it had to stop to let us cut across a different path it went nuts: rearing, leaping and spinning. That looked like no fun whatsoever to be out alone with! I did find myself caring about the quality of the paces though: I noticed when they were collected or not and actively tried to do so in the towns. I noticed the half-passes she did at a few stages, and all the leg yielding she naturally did when navigating inconsistent footing. I do adore flatwork and schooling, so I would definitely like a horse that I could learn more dressage on, and that we could hack together when we just need to relax and let off steam.  I loved Frankie's constantly pricked ears and excited jogs: she clearly adored hacking. I'd love to make a horse that happy some day too. Who knows: it might even end up as a livery horse on that yard eventually! 80)

I got my back, chatted to the YO's daughter who seems to be a manager or sorts, and left with a smile and mud on my face. The yard's down the bottom of a steep hill, and the lady that rode behind me offered me a lift up in in her pristine BMW: I was tempted but couldn't bear the idea of dirtying it so said I was enjoying the walk, but thanked her for the kind offer. The bus arrived at the stop within minutes, and no sooner was I on it than the heavens opened. We really had got the best weather of the day, missing the April showers. My current aches are beautiful ones: a reminder of the fun I had with Frankie yesterday :) My birthday's coming up in June: when anyone asks what I want, it'll definitely be a voucher for another hack!