22/7/12 Corrie's Nation

This weekend, with my hip still hurting I decided that while I may not be able to ride beautifully enough to school, I could certainly ride effectively and enjoy a hack. So, that's what I did: postponed my flying-changes lesson with P for a 2hr hack at the city yard instead. I also had found the ride with Ransom a bit hairy, and while I got a lot out of it after I settled and got the hang of him, it was still bothering me that I'd not enjoyed the hack to the max as I usually do. So, with my wonky hip and my determination to have fun, I'd resolved to hack and to ask for Frankie as my first choice, with Hugo and Starsky as speedy but trustworthy alternative choices.

After a long wait and lots of chatting with my fellow riders (most of which were new to the yard entirely), I got into the office first. They asked who I normally rode and I gave them a list of horses I have ridden or would like to, with Ransom excluded. I was told M had requested Frankie for escort duty (so that's two hacks in a row that my ride leader has stolen my horse; last time it was Hugo), and the other horses I'd asked for were by and large having a rest day because they'd done a Common Ride the day before. I quickly realised I was going to be on not only a new horse, but a horse I didn't know at all. I was right: I was given “ Corrie” , a horse I'd never even heard of, and left the office to queue at the stables.

One of the grooms asked me who I was on, and I saw him get the tack: I could tell from the saddle that Corrie was not a pony, but a big horse. I was right: a moment later this 17hh or so grey beast came out. I had assumed Corrie was a girl, so was a bit surprised when I realised he was a gelding! Corey is a boy's name, but Corrie is short for Corenne in my book; the only thing that makes sense to me is that his paper named contains the word Coronation! Corrie also had what I call that 'Bailey' look: the kind, gentle plod look, with a sweet but gormless head that looks so oddly placed on the neck that riding in an outline is impossible! (I don't mean all that in a snobbish way either: I've ridden 'gorgeous' horses from some of the best SJ and dressage breeding in Europe, and Heinz 57 boggers. There are only two types of horses in my eyes: those I love, and those who just aren't my cup of tea. Breed and breeding have nothing to do with which category they fall into)! Anyway, the man told me that Corrie has one of the smoothest trot to canter transitions going. I said I was on Ransom last time, who leapt from halt to canter, so smooth would be a welcome change to make for a different sort of hack this time around.

As the first person mounted, and as the hack was huge (a snake of 11 or 12), I had a lot of waiting time on Corrie. There were a lot of Groupon riders hacking out despite not being on a horse for years, so I spent a lot of time telling them what I could about their ponies from either my experience of riding them or riding out with them. I also met two of Frankie's sons: I didn't need t be told who they were either. Finlay is Frankie with a sheath and with white patches! Honestly: he's a bay tobiano, and it's as if someone's transplanted Frankie's head on a coloured body! Flynn had a stripe rather than Frankie and Finley's blaze, and Flynn was heavier-set, but still gorgeous. I am very tempted to try them out and see how much like their mum they really are! I also chatted to Corrie a lot while waiting, patting him and scratching his withers. Every so often he turned his head around to make eye contact with me, and with his 'Droopy', Bassett Hound-style eyes, he seemed to be expressing his boredom of not going anywhere in a really gentle way. I'm used to stamping, snorting, scraping the ground or jogging towards the exit: Corrie was positively gentlemanly about his impatience, sharing his feelings only with his eyes!

Having thought I was going to be on a sweet but slow plod, a bit like Hutch, I was glad to know I'd be able to enjoy things fully as compared to Ransom, but I do enjoy speed: it's what I found a turn-off about Hutch and why I'd like to try the keener-to-go Starsky. Well, as gentlemanly as Corrie had started, as soon as the rider leader shouted trot, Corrie was off! Not a bumble-along trot either, but a forward 'let's get going' one. I was delighted: perhaps this horse's gentle 'plod' face and build were misguiding!

Unlike Ransom who spun at the river, Corrie went for it without encouragement, following the path of the two horses in front despite the fact he was big enough to take a straight line rather than a curve. With Frankie leading, the married couple I often ride with were there, and the husband was on Robbie in front of me. We chatted about our favourite horses, and I said I'd had Ransom last week: a horse I'd seen him hack out before. He described Ransom perfectly – like a Ferrari, and said that while he liked him, he felt he spent too much of the hack fighting with him. This man is a naturally good, calm rider, so I took comfort at another strong rider enjoying him but finding him as complex and as hard work as I did. The Ferrari analogy is perfect: not only is Ransom almost disgustingly sexy and eye-catching, but is on the fine line between adrenaline-fuelled joy and sheer terror in terms of speed and handling. While a Ferrari is fun sometimes, especially when you're in the mood for mischief, you wouldn't need or want that speed or complexity every time you nip out for a drive.

We had a second trot, and with more space between the horses because of the terrain, Corrie was even more energetic, and with even more speed. It was spoiled a bit when we had to stop very suddenly having just began as someone screamed! With so many riders, one of the grooms was escorting at the end of the ride: she shouted forward that someone had screamed because their pony bucked. I knew at that point the ride would be tame: some of the Groupon folk were taking on quite a lot for their first ride in 10 years, and their nerves were clearly troubling them if a playful buck terrified them. M, the ride leader, gave an exasperated shout about not screaming unless you fall off, and off we went again.

Having spotted the tree that almost hung me when on Ransom last week, Corrie was just small enough at 17hh for me to miss it when I ducked. All the signs I had that I might have chosen the wrong horse in Ransom had been successfully navigated on Corrie: I knew I had the right beast for a good time, and rather than the inevitable nerves about the first canter on a new horse in the big outdoors, the hill could not come quick enough. I couldn't wait to try out Mr Smooth! We had to wait at the bottom of the hill for the snake to catch up, and for M to get a shout of okay from everyone to canter. Frankie was dancing and prancing, as was Robbie, and Corrie was fidgeting and jogging a bit. The suspense was killing me: I wanted to get on with it, and eventually after the yeses rolled in, off we went. Corrie went from walk to canter, and it was incredibly smooth: I was out of the saddle because I think it's easier for the horses to reach forward when working uphill, and because apart from Frankie who's about 14hh, it's much easier to dodge branches on bigger horses when in the light seat. I'd judged the size of his stride well though: no smacking of the saddle in my bum! I was grinning ear to ear: I had no nerves about this horse, he was not being kicked by the horse in front, and he did not rush to try and over-take. I immediately felt comfortable with all his paces: I knew I could definitely enjoy this ride to the full!

The next canter was on the level, with a giant puddle to dodge in the middle. I tried to sit to this one, but my right hip was pinching when I did – it couldn't absorb the shock of the movement without being in pain, so I went to the light seat again to let my knees do the adjusting rather than my lower back. Corrie broke down into trot as he ran out of room to canter beside the puddle, but changed straight back up once past it without being asked. While the canter didn't feel fast, not like Frankie who feels lightning quick because her hooves hit the ground so often with her little stride, we were really eating up the ground. So, as speed = distance / time and all that, we were actually going fast, but thanks to Corrie's rangey stride and predictable head movements, it felt comfortable and controlled. I can't think of a better balance of speed and comfort: Ransom and Frankie both have the speed, but are not particularly comfortable (Ransom with his sudden head movements and trying to overtake, Frankie with her bouncy, short stride and tiny saddle). Corrie has speed with comfort, and I lapped it up!

The third canter came very quickly afterwards, and as I thought would happen from the start, Frankie and Robbie got into a race upfront. Having thought Corrie might just continue at his speed, he was NOT going to be left out, and with a bit of a gap in front of us with the lead pair having taking off sooner, Corrie broke into a gallop on the end of the stretch! L was right: the gallop, when not from a bolt or unanticipated tanking, is unbelievably smooth and comfortable! The stretch ends with a single file hill however, that cannot be done in more than a walk. There's a large stone which can be walked or trotted over, not cantered (and definitely not galloped), and no sooner had I seen it and thought “I have to start slowing Corrie now to be in trot by over there”, Corrie saw it too and steadied up into a collected canter without any aids from me, and we were in a lovely trot to clear the stone. We'd completely caught up with the front, and once on the level again, had to wait for the rest of the ride to catch up. I was quite glad to see the rusty rider behind me quite a way behind on Laurel: I really hadn't thought at the time as I was too busy watching Frankie and Robbie race and enjoying become a part of it, but it would have been a lot to deal with for the woman on Laurel to gallop. It's meant to be canter, and she was sitting to it as well: she wasn't confident enough to ride the canter out of the saddle, and would have struggled to stay secure sitting on a galloping pony. From the gap though, it was clear that Laurel had maintained her steady speed rather than picked up our gallop at the front!  Phew: I would have felt rather guilty about that!

At the top of the hill though, rather than move forward, we went back down on the canter stretch. I was worried that because there were a few experienced riders near the front, and the rest were all rusty and nervous that we were headed back to the yard early for someone reason: perhaps to get a third ride escort to take that lot trekking instead. We also only cantered once, despite having had two canters this route in the opposite direction. Luckily when we got to the flatland again, we just took a different route rather than headed back home. Phew!

Around this point, the escort at the back said one of the pony riders wasn't happy with their position in the ride. M begrudingly said that Snoopy, the 11hh or so flaxen ginger, should be behind her. The rear escort said a bit further back would be better, and wouldn't you know, the tiny pony was put in front of my giant grey.  Boo! It also looked as if the girl was nervous, but luckily it turned out that she was a very experienced rider, and was bored amongst all the nervous and slow rusty-riders, who were holding their horses tightly and slowly! V, wife of the man on Robbie, also moved behind me at this point, and another Sunday morning regular moved up behind Robbie on the coloured mare Roma. It meant that all us experience riders were together at the start of the ride, with the riders after V on Gandhi were the slower, more nervous ones. Whilst ponies were passing to rearrange the ride order, Corrie lent into the lady on Roma for a cuddle, to which I let out a big “Aww!”. :)

Now in line, the girl on Snoopy was a bit off-put by how close Corrie was getting. While his legs were behind Snoopy, his neck was so long (and Snoopy's body so short), this his head was around the little girl's back. I said Corrie was friendly though, having cuddled our last passer-by, so quickly she turned to pat him and from then on, at any quiet moment when Corrie was close enough, she enjoyed a pat and a rub with my gorgeous grey companion! At one point Corrie was head-tossing a lot, more than he'd done at any other point, and all I could think of was he was trying to shake off the bit of grass hanging off the side of his mouth. The little girl pulled it out the next time Corrie got closer, and hey presto – his head-tossing stopped. This girl can't have been more than about 10, but we had lots to chat about, and she seemed to enjoy having an audience who knew about BD levels, BSJA classes and so on!

While doing trot-work through the towns, I worked on rhythm with Corrie: he was a dream, and we maintained our rhythm perfectly, only changing when Snoopy in front would slow down and Corrie and I ran out of space to maintain our pace and rhythm. As often happened, we passed through one of the towns just as church was winding up. We had a couple of tourist couples taking photographs of us, and I was grinning like a Cheshire cat on my gorgeous horse in each one :) Three old dears also waved at us from outside the church, and while hardly anyone was prepared to ride through town one-handed, I trusted Corrie and happily waved back! Not long after the church, I  started playing with the trot again, and I tried sitting trot: I immediately had to give up; as expected on a big horse, it was bouncy, but it was causing shooting pains in my right hip just as sitting to the canter had done earlier. I also noticed that I had always been on the right rein's diagonal the whole time, and when I swapped, I found I was in pain. The left rein diagonal is Ransom's uncomfortable diagonal, so my theory about my hip injury was supported: I had put my hip out on Ransom not by riding in uneven stirrups, but because Ransom's movement is uneven. We therefore mirrored eachother, me and Ransom: both of with our right hip/leg being our weak-spot! I therefore just spent the rest of the hack on the right-rein diagonal: I physically couldn't manage the other anyway, and in a country where we hack and drive on the left, it feels like the natural diagonal to be on. I normally deliberately alternate though so the horse doesn't become uneven. Hope it averages out for Corrie!

Nearing the end of the road work, we came across a hill in trot. Corrie deliberately fell behind Snoopy upon approaching it, and I didn't squeeze him on as I wanted to see what he was doing – he hadn't need my leg at all up until then. As soon as we were on the hill, Corrie speeded up: he'd wanted to go faster up the hill so had created the space for himself to do it. What a clever boy! We then turned off left to get on farm-land, and Corrie let out a big spook: leaping from walk to what would have been a tanking off, if he hadn't stopped after one stride. It was odd, because I hadn't seen anything move suddenly and Robbie immediately in front didn't appear to have spooked. The ride leader told us though that Robbie's spooked on this turn-off before, kicking out and ending up causing £1000 worth of damage to a van! Since then, Robbie can be a bit nervy around this corner and I think Corrie picked up on that: I certainly can't think or remember anything else that would have set him off apart from the transfer of mood that herds of horses rely on in the wild.

I was a bit annoyed with our ride leader: I'd found on hack one that she walks more of the hack than the other leaders do, and today was no different. At least with the park still closed for the tree-fall, we got to trot a lot of the alternative road-work. Passing through gate posts, I found that Corrie wasn't quite tall enough for the soles of my feet to clear them, but Corrie was not Frankie – he didn't drag me into any posts or trees!

Eventually we came to the fast canter stretch along the old railway line. People have been complaining about meeting horses on it, so we were under strict instructions that we had to walk past anyone we met: trotting wouldn't do as it had before. We could see it was clear though, but with so many riders, we had to walk through the stone tunnel before we started to canter. I was disappointed, because I love the noise of thundering through it. I quickly found something I hadn't realised before though: that by avoiding the park, you get onto the railway line at an earlier point, so the run is actually longer! This way, there is actually two old railway bridges to pass under, so we still got that thundering sound I'd got the first-timers to the city yard all excited about!

I was all set for this canter stretch: typically I'd always held Frankie in a canter despite her wanting to gallop. The lady on Roma through confirmed this was a gallop stretch when were talking outside the office, and with Corrie having changed up earlier, I was all set to gallop this stretch as we could see it was clear. Frankie and Robbie were racing again, with Robbie and rider actually over-taking, but with Roma and Snoopy in front, while we got a long canter at a good speed, it was not the gallop I'd hoped for. Corrie was a gentleman, not trying to get past Snoopy, but I secretly wish he had.  I really wish the order hadn't been changed and I was still 3^rd in the queue: Frankie, Robs and I could have had such a great time alone up front! As it was, I had to settle for a canter stretch similar to the others, rather than better. I still enjoyed every second of it mind you, and the trot-to-canter transition really was as smooth as silk :)

As M was our leader, this was our last canter of the hack. With L or A, there is always at least one, sometimes two more canters after the railway line. There wasn't even a lot of trot-work to make up for it: much of  it was walk. While it was a beautiful day, and the views were as stunning as ever (including the high-up valley bridge, where I was finally on a horse not so tall it could have put me over the double safety railings), the ride was slower than usual overall. I much prefer L or A as a ride leader, and am itching to get my field-gallop with L when the weather's better. The lady on Roma also introduced me to LD, one of the male grooms who I didn't know did rides too: apparently his hacks are legendary. I look forward to a fast-paced one of those if I'm lucky!

The whole of this ride, I'd been impressed at how little kicking their was between the horses: with Gandhi behind me rather than in front this time, I didn't have a kicking pony in front of my runaway horse to contend with. The front four of us also walked in a diamond for part of the way, getting lots of chat in about our favourite horses, and I got lots of advice about doing Common Rides from the lady on Roma. I'm hoping next summer that I'll have the money to be able to do them, riding through towns and galloping across fields with hundreds of other riders for hours and hours on end! It was nice to be on such a sociable hack: I've never as chatted as much before, and getting close was possible on sociable horses rather than ratty mares in season. It certainly made the amount of walking more enjoyable. The guy on Robbie also fell in love with my big sook, and did lots of patting and cuddling with Corrie when we were alongside. He said Robbie was his favourite horse: lots of speed but without the same fighting as with Ransom, and I heartily recommended Corrie to him: he travels fast, but with his long stride and comfortable transitions it felt slower and more comfortable to ride compared to Ransom's speed. He seemed rather taken with him: I think Corrie will be going on his list to try some day that Robbie's not available! We chatted on the yard too about the range of horses available: it's great to ride a giant draft horse one week, a TB the next, then an ex-dressage horse, followed by a cobby pony the next: it really is one of its strengths, especially compared to P's yard, where my choice of horses was as little as 3 at one point, and never more than about 6.

We got back to the yard after more walking, even along stretches we had trotted along on the journey away from the yard. I waved lots of flies away from Corrie and I, although they were mostly just water gnats without bites: they are huge though, and I had a big one in the corner of my eye that I didn't get out until I got home. Boke!  When on the yard, I spent quite a bit of time wriggling my feet around before I slid off. I made sure I was deep into the yard, so that I would be one of the last to have their horse taken away. I got to unfurl the stirrup twists, run them up, loosen the girth and take off the breast-plate, as well as getting loads of cuddles in with the big man. I am now a massive Corrie fan, as was everyone who ride beside him it seemed: I felt immediately comfortable with this horse, never nervous of his actions or paces, and had enjoyed the ride as if I was on an old friend. Even the spook didn't get my blood up, something that usually happens beyond my control, even though it doesn't scare me on a conscious level! Just occasionally, I ride a horse who's soul I feel I've met before and I know them already: Whisperer had been one of them and now Corrie was another. I'm not going to say that that the Turbo Cob is no longer my favourite, but I do think I need another ride on both to compare. I think it could be the fact that Frankie will become my favourite flying pony and Corrie will be my favourite comfy but quick big horse! I did enjoy seeing Frankie leading: she was dancing, prancing, pulling and snorting, so eager to go. Given how Ransom doing the same had thrown me a bit as I felt insecure in my canter seat on him, I loved that I appreciate and enjoy these things in Frankie. I need a spin on her again soon!

I had such a brilliant time, that when I went back into the office, I immediately booked another hack in a fortnight's time. The lady on Roma did agree the hack was too slow though: she not only felt that M didn't trot or canter enough, but that Frankie wasn't fast enough to lead. I'm not sure about the speed: I think I'd have had space to gallop behind Frankie alright! I am however seriously considering making this weekend my last lesson with P (though that will have the downside of meaning I can't ride both Homer and Troy, before I leave, having two little demons still to eradicate). Honestly though, I think I'd rather hack for the summer, and by the time the weather turns, hopefully the city yard will have its new instructor and I can get back onto flatwork schooling with them. Whether I can bring myself to go so quickly once I see everyone on Saturday will be another matter mind you!

Let's Hear It For the Hackers!

Not my words, but I thought I'd share them :) I do hold no snobbery though: I adore dressage schooling, and have jumped competitively in the past!

What is the toughest riding discipline of them all? Which is the most important, the most difficult, the most dangerous? I shall tell you: but first of all let me outline for you the dizzying array of skills necessary. You need, above all, a sense of calmness and trust. Without that you won't get anywhere. But you have to combine relaxation with a constant awareness of the considerable difficulties and dangers that surround you. You need to be able to sit in a way that fills the horse with confidence. You need to master all the basic paces.

Horse and rider both need to be relaxed at all of them, from halt to gallop. You need comfortable, instant lateral work, particularly off the right leg. You need calm, soft unfidgety hands. Your aim is to combine calmness and confidence with dynamic and forward-going movement at all paces. You need your horse to cope with other horses, close by or at a distance. Your horse needs to be sociable when among strangers and friends yet happily independent when on his own. You need balance and control; but with a sense of freedom and adventure. You need to trust your horse in extreme situations. You must allow your horse to be a wild animal and express himself with joy and abandon and yet you must be able to bring him back to civilisation with a touch, a shift in balance, a word. But above all, you need to understand each other's fears; each other's limits, each other's strengths and weaknesses. You need to deal with situations that terrify a horse but hold no danger to him; you must deal with situations that terrify you, without imparting your terror to your horse. You must be able to deal with potentially life-threatening situations and to do so with great frequency. You must deal with them in a way that is completely calm and relaxed, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. The reason you must bring out all these high skills in yourself and your horse is because everybody's life depends on them.

But then you must get used to the fact that your painfully acquired skills are held in low esteem - even despised in some quarters. The discipline I am talking about is hacking. Nothing is more dangerous - yet more pleasurable - to human and horse alike. If you can hack out safely, alone or in company, you are a real rider! If you can deal with such things as school buses, Volvo drivers, pheasants flying up at your feet, a long, long canter track, boy racers, fluttering paper bags, gloriously inviting gallops, pigs, cows, overhanging trees, fields of lunatic horses and the most scarey thing of all, the wheelie bin that wasn't there yesterday, then you can count yourself a hacker. Or to put it another way, a very good rider indeed. And yet, even if you are the master of all those things, your skills might be sneered at. So you apologise in advance - oh I just hack out. I'm just a happy hacker. What? Only a master of the most testing and demanding and dangerous discipline in the horsey world, that's all. You have to defer to obsessive show jumpers, dressage queens of either relations and showing people who prefer polishing horses to riding them - all these people are too preciousto take their horse out for a merry hack and who think they're better than you on that account.

Let's not be snobbish back, however. Every way of enjoying your horse that doesn't harm him is alright by me. So we won't ask what's so marvellous about going round and round in circles and why it is so superior to a great cantering blast up the hill, and we shan't point out that while a square halt is hard, it's far, far more difficult to get your horse to stand still while an articulated lorry goes past. Especially when it then stops and whistles its brakes at you. So let's make this Hacker's Pride Month. Say it out loud; I hack and I'm proud! We won't be snooty about it though. We won't say, I know the real reason you won't hack out. It's not because you're Anky von Grunsven and Bonfire come again. It's because you are ever so slightly scared. And I'm not; so I hack. No, we won't say it. We'll just think it very quietly when someone looks at you with condescension because you've been for a hack while they have spent an hour trying to establish a leg yield. I've got nothing against leg-yielding myself but I do have a great deal against snobbery. No one will celebrate hackers for their skills of horsemanship, their mastery of fear, their overcoming of horsey temperament, so it is only right that we should do it for ourselves. Salute the hackers! Damn we're good. And if you have any doubts on that score, just ask our horses!

15/7/12- Held to Ransom (Or Should That Be Held Onto)?

I got the the yard in the sunshine and in good time this morning, yet pretty much the last two people to arrive cut the queue and went into the office first. They were there for a trek, and the YO's daughter gave the girl Frankie to ride. I'd heard them talking about Hugo being in, so I was excited: my plan was to ride Hugo or Frankie, as I'd totally fallen for Hugo last week when my sister bailed out of the trek after her lesson, giving him to me for an hour instead. I asked for Hugo to be told no, he was booked for a lesson; I was gutted! I then asked for Robbie – a lovely big dark bay horse that looked like a lot of fun on my last hack. I got another no – he was booked for the trek. I then asked for Ransom: it's been something I've thought of doing for a while, as not only is he a big horse with a big stride (he's the biggest horse on the yard actually, at about 19hh), I wanted to make sure my crappy riding in the lesson with him was just me having a bad day. While I'd wanted to try Starsky, I assumed he wouldn't be in as he's more of a Common Ride horse, so I just manned up, asked for Ransom, and lo and behold, he was in!

I had a long wait for Ransom, so much so one of the instructors apologised and told me she'd get him out herself as one of the teenage helpers had clearly failed when asked. I also heard her say that one of the instructors had left, which is partly why it was so mad. I hadn't seen M that morning and knew immediately it was her, the night after I'd told P I was leaving her to go to the city yard and become a regular student of M :( I pushed it out of my mind though, and out came Ransom ooking like a total fit-stick, and I quickly got on. One of the weekend girls sorted the girth with my help (he's so tall it's almost impossible to tighten his girth from the ground, so I did all the lifting and pulled, while she pushed the buckles in) and my stirrups were adjusted to a comfortable and even length. I saw Starksy come up and a beginner get on him for the trek: I was gutted. If I thought he'd been available, I would have snapped him up!

Anyhow, after a bit of a wait, our ride leader came over – one of the older women on the yard, who given that my RI's gone, I will now call M. I saw her get on Hugo: gutted! I also saw my ride leader when I was on Hutch, A., get on Robbie. Turns out I'd made two rather popular choices, so much so the leaders love them! Anyway, another little wave of jealousy aside, off I followed the other riders. There were 9 of us at first, and I thought that was too many to keep control of. I also saw the woman on front of me not even able to trot very well: I'd no idea how she'd manage the bouncy Stella on a hack. We took a new route to the river, so had a trot before crossing: Ransom felt deeply uncomfortable to ride and I wondered if I'd chosen the right horse.  Approaching the river, two riders were taken away by yard-hands, and I was pleased: 7 seemed more managable, and I genuinely thought the lady in front of me would have struggled on a hack.

Ransom ended up last in the queue, and while all the other horses went into the river without a fuss, Ransom spun for home. I was ready for him so not unsettled by it: I showed him who was boss, turned him back to the water and made clear that saying no was not an option. He got in and crossed without issue: he'd tested me out, and he'd failed to put me off.

Once across the river, the first familiar trot came up, and being on the tallest horse on the yard (almost a hand taller than even Hutch), I was really amongst the trees, rather than amidst the branches. I hit two in a row so hard I was almost off: they'd brought me up out of the saddle, and hit my neck so hard, I genuinely wondered if I'd severed some rather important blood vessels. Luckily a quick pat proved I wasn't pouring with blood: just scraped with a few blobs of blood, but I did have a total “Oh shit, I've totally chosen the wrong horse” moment. Uncomfortable in trot, amongst trees very difficult to avoid even lent forward, and  Ransom having been a bit of a knobber already: I wasn't convinced I was going to have a good time at this point.

The next trot was on a road, and it felt beautifully comfortable: I thought at first the even ground was to thank for that, but then I realised what it was - with spring hock in one of his hind legs, I was now trotting on the other diagonal and it was night and day in terms of smoothness and comfort! I also realised one of the reasons why I was so untidy even in trot on him during me lesson: there was no way to avoid his 'bad' diagonal, as obviously I had to work as much on that as his comfortable one. That soothed me a bit, both about my riding in that lesson and for the hack we'd barely started. The branches were much easier to dodge on the road too, so I never had the uncomfortable feeling of being hung on a tree again.

We approached the first canter stretch, the uphill canter, and I felt a bit unsure: I'd ridden and sat Ransom's canter before without trouble (as unattractive as it may have been that day), but the mare Gandhi in front of us was in a bitch of a mood, and struck out at him at every opportunity. The older lady riding him tried to let me past, but Gandhi just moved to block the whole path and to keep Ransom in her kick-zone at all times.  I was not looking forward to Ransom inevitably running up Gandhi's arsehole during this canter, and especially didn't want any bucking on such a gradient. I decided to get out of my stirrups and canter in the light seat, and Ransom leapt from walk to canter. Like Hutch, the first uphill stride and the saddle smacked me up the jacksy, so I had to get higher out to accommodate his big movement. As anticipated, he ran up Gandhi's arse and with my hands so far forward jockey style, I hadn't the rein length to hold him back. When I straightened up to try and do it, I felt horridly unbalanced so gave up; I was pleased when we stopped cantering and Gandhi danced sideways, keeping her back-end away from Ransom.

The next canter stretch was flat, but has the giant puddle which must be dodged. That dodge was not comfortable on Ransom: he motorbiked a bit, which left me feel horridly insecure. He was also being bothered by branches, and would suddenly dip his head, or suddenly put his ears in my mouth and neck in my face: it was so unsettling that I didn't feel especially secure in the saddle. I'd also been struggling with my right stirrup from trot one: despite it feeling even, I struggled to stretch into it and maintain my foot as sturdily in it; I think it must have been out by the tiniest amount. Anyway, Ransom was trying to race past the ponies in front (and I hate it when riders cut up others), and was bobbing about like an eejit, and with my right foot too far through the stirrup, I was feeling deeply uneasy. I was glad that M cut this stretch a bit shorter than what A. or L. do when they lead the rides: a feeling I felt sad about having, because the canter stretches really are such a thrill, and usually the highlights of the hack.

We finally got to some land more than two horses wide, and the woman on Gandhi kindly let me past: the coloured pony now in front of me (who was new to me and who's name I've forgotten) wasn't kicking and didn't mind Ransom following. I felt better about the next canter because of it, and as the path was so narrow that attempts at over-taking would be impossible.  So off we went into canter, Ransom leaping into action again. I stood out of my stirrups again for this one, and twice there were sudden stops: honest to goodness, I have never been so glad for a horse to put his neck up. I'm sure if it wasn't there, I would have been out the front foor! Whatever it was that had stopped us suddenly disappeared, so we cantered a bit more, and because it was too narrow for Ransom to try and pass, it was much more civilised for it. However, at the end of the canter we went to walk and turned right down a hill, I shouted to M that we were down a rider – the older lady and Gandhi weren't to be seen behind me. We waited and shouted, and nothing for more than a minute: not a good sign. I moved Ransom to let the lead horse out, but M wasn't happy with that either, and asked me to return to the ride. I said I was just letting her out as there'd been a lot of kicking, and I'd turn around right away.  Gandhi then came into sight, being walked on the floor by her owner. It turns out that Gandhi had suddenly stopped, and while we'd all stayed on our horses, this lady was out the front door. She was physically fine though, got back on, and with the next canter stretch only a minute's walk away, we all proceeded to canter at it.

This canter stretch I was determined Ransom was not to be such an eejit: he would be going at less than break-neck speed, and he would not be trying to overtake. I really shortened my reins and started in the light seat: it worked. He calmed down a bit and followed rather than tried to pass. I found having that extra control of the contact was harder in a light seat though, so quickly sat down for this canter: this was immediately more pleasant, especially as we were on a wide path where tree-dodging was no longer a concern (something that's easier down while out of the saddle and learning forward and low). While Ransom's is so big and powerful that my bottom was pushed out of the saddle during lots of the strides (think of professional showjumpers doing 'rising canter' in the  ring because of their horse's impulsion and/or pulling), the whole thing felt uphill, controlled and enjoyable: it was the first time I wasn't thinking “Please let this stretch be over soon: I'm feeling a bit insecure up here with all this bobbing, ducking, dodging and foot-slipping”. I finally enjoyed a canter fully and without feeling insecure!

Having conquered what was bothering me about canter, I was determined that this wouldn't be a hack that I'd walk away from feeling disappointed because I'd held back and been a bit under-confident in canter. I remembered what M had taught me: that quality movement is all about rhythm and maintaining it; that Ransom is a very sensitive ride especially in terms of contact, and will work in an outline if asked correctly; that my reins must be exactly even at all times and my palms always facing one another; and finally, that my leg must always be under me. 

I often slip my reins out hacking: it's necessary really given how quickly the terrain changes and the horse quickly needs more rein to really use their neck for balance. Gathering back up, Ransom often gave me flexion to the left: I would then immediately check my reins, and lo and behold, my default gather up seems to lead me to have my left rein 1cm or so shorter than my right. So, I quickly realised after every alteration of rein length and contact I had to make sure they were dead even: even a slight misalignment wouldn't do. The rhythm we had down-pat: once I worked out that his left diagonal was comfier, I held him at a safe distance from the pony in front, we'd find a lovely speed and consistent rhythm in each pace. In the down-transitions, he'd also come onto the bit, so when he naturally did that I worked him on an outline, feeling the power over his back as he rounded, feeling the energy of the paces with him reaching under himself, and really enjoying having such a big horse between my leg and hand. I never did this for too long, and always let him stretch afterwards though: the only time I deliberately put him in an outline was going through a town both to show myself that I could and to show off for an audience if I'm honest. While doing this, an old couple who stopped cycling to let us past commented on how beautiful a horse he was and how elegantly he held himself. I was dead chuffed! I was also pleased that I worked him that way both in walk and trot, as on the leg-dead RS ponies maintaining that shape when transitioning up I find very hard work.

With regard to my lower leg, I had expected that it would be forwards a bit for security, but I found myself pleasantly surprised that it stayed under me through out the paces. There was one bit of trot on ground that mildly undulated and I felt my leg drift a bit, but given parts were a bit downhill I wasn't at all disheartened. Long story short, all the problems I had in my lesson on Ransom I seemed to have a hold of. I also truly appreciated that M had not said Ransom was a difficult horse to ride to make me feel better: she meant it, because he genuinely is a complex and sensitive horse with awkward, uneven movement because of his spring hock. All in all, I felt I'd put my rubbish riding on Ransom to bed, and that I was as capable on him as I thought I should have been from day one.

After some walk and trot roadwork, we came across the Glen: an official forest park. We got near the big fallen log that Gandhi had crapped herself at when  I was on Hutch, only this time a tree beside it had fallen completely blocking the route; the leader was surprised that they hadn't closed the park gates because of it. We then turned back on the road and went partly down a route I'd never been on before, passing the trek led by A. on Robbie. That lot were trotting uphill while our hack was walking downhill. Poor Ransom was torn: he was jogging and wanting to join the trek because it was currently going faster, but gave in as soon as I asked. As he'd become so lively, I decided to make use of his energy and we did some leg yielding and some travers on that road. Ransom was switched on, was on the bit and did a beautiful job: he wasn't a pony who'd switched off, was ignoring its rider and was just following the horses in front – he stayed attentive to me the whole time.

I wondered if we were going to miss the long, fast canter stretch through the stone tunnels as it's on the other side of the Glen – usually the most exhilarating bit of the ride. To be honest, I wasn't wholly disappointed: while I'd got a hang of Ransom's break-neck tendencies, he was still much more work and harder to sit to than the horses I normally ride so I wasn't excited about upping the speed. I was however, wrong: while we'd went a long way round in walk, we soon saw the familiar sight of the tunnels. The leader called canter, we all shouted “Bike!” and we stopped for a cyclist before we'd even began. Ransom was doing mini-rears: essentially his walk-to-canter leap, but in halt and without going forwards, so he only went up. I told him firmly “WAIT!” and it echoed so loudly in the tunnel, the whole ride turned around and looked at me! The woman on Gandhi was nervous after her fall, and I said I wasn't looking forward to this much either, and expected Ransom to be a raging tit and go off like a racehorse. I shouted that I'd be taking this one a bit slower, so don't worry if they stop and seem one horse short as it would be deliberate. I'm not sure they heard me at the front as they never spoke or looked around, but the lady on Gandhi said she'd go in front of me.  To be honest, the tiniest part in the back of my head said “WALK IT!” That would be no fun though, and I knew it. Trot wasn't an option: I knew Ransom wouldn't do anything but canter. So, I told that little voice to shut up because it wasn't wanted, and knew that collecting Ransom could be fun if he listened: while he is very responsive to contact, he also had his own opinions on speed and where to make transitions so I wasn't sure who'd win.

Having held a prancing, dancing Ransom in halt to give some space behind Gandhi's dangerous backside, as soon as I relinquished pressure, Ransom leapt from halt to canter!  He was going like the proverbial off a stick, but because I was sitting to the canter and had my contact prepared, I used my seat and hands to collect him and slow him; lo and behold, Ransom listened rather than leaning on me and ignoring me. The horses in front got further away and then disappeared from sight, but Ransom did not rush or gallop to catch up: he stayed in the collected canter I was asking for, albeit that I had to half-halt so often my hands felt like they were pulsing. With such a big stride but so much power the canter felt unbelievably slow, uphill, controlled and collected. With 19 hands and miles of leg to play with though, we were still covering the ground. We felt so slow and so steady that it felt like time itself had slowed down: that Ransom and I were living in a movie moment in slow motion. I have never felt anything like it: it was one of the most exhilarating and beautiful things I have ever felt on horseback.  It also felt like we'd come full circle on this hack: from fretting I'd chosen the wrong horse and wouldn't be relaxed enough to enjoy the canter work, I'd successfully worked on the things M had discussed, done some lateral work and had one of the most spine-tingingly beautiful canters I'd ever experienced. On approaching the rest of the ride, the leader asked if there was a problem: I said absolutely not: I'd just chosen to collect the canter and had an absolute ball in the process!

The rest of the ride was walk and trot work: because of the change of route, we'd lost the final canter stretch after the fast one. The ride was also a bit shorter, and would have been less than 2hrs if we'd moved out of walk too. I tried riding Ransom on the buckle so he could really stretch his neck (seriously: there was more than 1m of it in front of me), but he titted around a bit, dancing and looking to overtake even in walk. I took my contact  back up and gave him a second chance on a single-file bit of forest: through the trees was a field though, and a horse galloping up towards the fence to say hi affected no one but Ransom - he spooked, danced and generally titted around again. I gave up at that point, and while I refused to ride him home on the buckle, I did really relax the contact using my elbows rather than over-lengthening the reins. Ransom seemed glad of it: having worked in an outline out of his own volition for so much of the ride, he was happy to bumble long and low. I also admired his neck: he has so much topline that he actually looks like he has a stallion's crest! I did a lot of patting and fussing on the walk home: while he'd been racey and keen, he hadn't actually be bad: for all the joking I've made about him titting around like a knobber, he wasn't actually being what I'd describe as bad, just keen and on his toes. In fact, I can see Ransom being fabulous out on the Common Rides: he's got the handsome looks, wonderful build, show-off self-carriage and love of galloping despite lack of a  nasal passageway/windpipe on one side! Some of others commented on his blowing after work, especially following the uphill canter, but he is keen to run and is very fit: he just makes more noise processing so much air through one nostril! I often think he's lucky to be in the RS: lots of owners would give up on a big TB with a breathing compromise and spring hock combined!

So, to cut the rest of the long story short, I had a fab hack after a hairy start and got lovely cuddles with Ransom before he was quickly whipped away. I picked my stuff up from the office and asked the YO's daughter if M had left: she confirmed that she had moved back to Essex, and when I asked about private flatwork lessons, was told they were limited in number and length for the foreseeable future with only one official instructor. They are on the look out though, and hope to increase availability again as soon as they can. I felt deflated hearing that: only the night before I had told P I was leaving, and now I've lost my wonderful new instructor :( On the upside, I said this summer was my last with P, so I'm covered if I ride there for a fortnight more or two months more. There's always the option of mostly hacking with occasional lessons if I don't enjoy the change of instructor. Either way, I'm sure things will work out somehow. I'm now just looking for the next excuse to go hacking again, and seriously considering forgoing even the gent Hugo and taking my beloved Turbo Cob for a blast no matter how mischievous mood I'm in next time!

Here's a reminder of just how tall he is: looks at those legs going on forever! Only cos I'm so chubby at the moment do I not look like a pea on a drum with him at only 5ft 5.5!

14\7\12 A Guinness and Goodbye

Today was the day I was telling P that I'm leaving the yard: I was not going to chicken out no matter what; my mind was thoroughly made up.

After a visit to all the horses, and particularly long cuddles with my faves (Hattie for instance, who fell asleep in my hands: Homer was turned out all day sadly), I was ready for my lesson. I was on Guinness, him having been a nightmare the lesson before on the leid rein teaching a nervous adult to canter. The leader could barely hold him! I got on him and his mood has passed: he was in his lazy, stubborn mode again and it took at least 15mins of transition work to waken him up. As my last ride was on Hutch nearly 3 weeks ago, Guinness also felt small (something that never left, even when I dismounted and let a surprised yelp out of my mouth from hitting the ground ridiculously soon)!  The first canter happened one lap at a time: despite anticipating him breaking down, he didn't listen to my aids to keep going. I was determined to sort it quickly, and with my voice and schooling whip backing me up,  the second rein was a continuous, smooth canter for several minutes without breaking down. I quickly realised because I'd been schooling Homer for weeks, this was already the most canter I'd done in the school for nearly two months!

Today's lesson was all about preparing for flying changes: something I'd be doing on Troy next week as he's back in the school again now his lease has ended. P asked me if I knew the aids, and was pleased to hear that I knew it was about my body (especially my shoulders) and not just my legs as most do before they're taught properly. I did lots of figure 8s, first in trot imagining where I'd switch my leg aids, my balance and my own shoulder lead in canter. I then did the exercise in canter, doing simple changes across X (or a bit after as P advised).  I was having a scrappy riding day, as I inexplicably do sometimes: I could feel my heels and shoulder creep up at times, especially when turning Guinness in canter around the short end of the school on the figures. I knew I was having a blip so told myself not to get frustrated: the point of the exercise was to reduce the amount of trot in the simple change, and feel my body change lead essentially. As soon as I forgot about riding prettily, I felt it: Guinness was now only trotting for a few beats before we changed back up to canter on the opposite leg, and I could feel my body change in that  ever-shortening gap. While P told me not to ask for a change on Guinness, I sneakily did anyway: and the bugger actually gave it to me! Everyone says Guinness can't do them: he's not been schooled for it and is a lazy sod, so he only changes legs when it comes naturally to him over fences. Well, he changed for me ¾ of the way down the school, but as I wasn't meant to have done it, I immediately brought him down to trot so that if P hadn't been watching the whole time, it looked like a simple change.  Guinness was so obliging at this point: cantering keenly without lots of leg to maintain it. I was chuffed with him, especially as he'd dug his heels in early on as he didn't want to work: determination and persistence is something this horse has developed in me more than any other, and I love him for it!

People had been coming in and out the whole time, so as soon as I brought Guinness to walk after cantering the 8s, I broke the news to P. I said that having finished Uni now and therefore not coming through this way any more, it was time to move. Tom was also much happier for me being home last Saturday and us getting some more quality time – something we're short on as he works so hard, especially during the teaching part of his job at the moment. Add my Reynauld's into that, I explained I couldn't make it through another winter, so this was my last summer. I made it clear that while I was moving to the yard I hack at and had two lessons with in the city, I'm not leaving because they've turned my head or I don't like P anymore: I need to move away for time, convenience and health, and I just happen to have somewhere to go already.

P was amazing about the whole thing. She said she often used me as an example of people being willing to travel for her teaching as it takes me pretty much 2hrs to get there, and also that it's not a journey she'd make shoe on the other foot. She also appreciated my time with Tom is precious and there's nothing like weekends for spending time together. She even mentioned that time I got soaked bringing Shania in last winter and had to take a longer bus home: she knew how much I suffered that and how long that journey was to me.

Best of all, P said my ability to go hacking on any horse, big or small, fast or slow, sharp or leg-dead, was “like a gold medal” for her teaching skills. She was delighted that she'd met her aims: to make me a good all-rounder and to be able to ride anything I wanted. I'd said all this to her as well about me being able to do so only because of what she's done for my riding and my confidence. The city yard only requires that you're competent in canter to hack out; while I'd have theoretically fit that bill years ago with P, I would not have been psychologically ready for it in terms of confidence: I would have been nervous, dreading every canter stretch and I know it. She was delighted to hear all this and was very complimentary about how much my riding had come on: that she likes my seat and posture, and that I was lucky to be both an intelligent and passionate rider, something she knows from my thinking and plotting before I perform actions and from the long chats we've had about ownership, where I've reflected upon issues she said most first-time owners don't foresee before buying.

By this point in the conversation, I was fighting tears. P thought she'd made a great rider out of me, understood entirely that I need to move to a yard nearby, and rather than be jealous or disappointed I'm going somewhere else, said she'd have been gutted for me if I was leaving without a yard to go to. She made some comment about it might be different if I was doing two lessons and a hack a week there, which I assume was a joke about money as I missed half of that sentence due to the rain on the roof, but she didn't make me feel like a customer who should be guilty about moving their money: she made me feel like a valued pupil who was graduating to pastures new, not coldly switching 'service providers'.

The lesson ended there: I warmed Guinness down as I talked to her as I was happy to get less riding in, in order to have her alone and hold this conversation in walk. My alarm went off almost like clockwork anyway, so I'd warmed down at just the right time. I thanked P for being so understanding and told her how excited I was about learning flying changes on Troy Boy next week, especially as I still had a demon to banish after falling off him last June. She wished me well, told me to pop down midweek if I was in to print and bind the hard-back copies of my thesis and we bid each other a fond farewell. On the bus I could hold it in no longer, and hot tears began prickling my eyes and streaming down my cheeks: not something I often do in public as I'm an intensely private person. I'd been touched though: not only had P picked up on my desire to move on so she introduced flying change schooling, but she had been kind, supportive and complementary about my riding and need to move yards. For the past two years, I have been truly blessed with a patient, kind and generous instructor. I am not looking forward to making the decision about which lesson will be my last this summer :.(

24/6/12 Hit the Hutch!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thrills and Spills Part I: The Spills

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bailey-boo and I:

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

Harry:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer, taken the very night I almost rode him:

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

Spotty-licious:

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

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

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

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

Troy-Boy himself:

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

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

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

Guinea-pooh:

UPDATE

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

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

Homer:

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

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