Sometimes it's not enough!

As I said in my last post, I preferred Ollie to Frankie for quite a while. After our indifferent start, we found a level of trust at which we were comfortable, overcame challenges such as water, jump fillers, loading, and had become a decent partnership. We did all kinds of stuff, fun trail rides, long gallops, prelim dressage, small cross country and show jumping and a little bit of working hunter pony, which I enjoyed. The smaller achievements I had with Oliver back then rank up there with the larger ones I'd go on to have. We were supreme ridden champion at a local show once, and a very popular choice, I'm immodest enough to say! We also used to go jumping at a high profile competiton yard's unaffiliated night, which attracted large numbers every week. I'd only jump in the under 12s section, but there were often 40 in a class, including kids who were already riding affiliated on push button ponies that had been handed down to them having been there, done that. We'd managed to come 2nd twice, but there was always someone who could turn tighter, gallop quicker, take more dares.

Now, Ollie had come a long way from his lazy days, and was now a bouncy, keen, bold pony, almost strong at times. He was never snaffle mouthed for jumping, which I regret a little, but in the interest of control, a kimblewick or pelham sufficed. We were both happier that way.

The thing he and I enjoyed the most was the thrill of the jump off. No turn was too tight, rarely did he have a pole, and he just loved to go fast for me. Well, one night, we won the class. It felt BRILLIANT.

That wasn't the story I wanted to tell, but it kind of leads up to the one I do. By this point, it may seem that I'd figured him out. But when we went to the big local outdoor summer show, 3 refusals at the first fence in the under 12s was the story, and I was upset that the trust hadn't been there. Fortunately for me, I had Frankie in the same class, and, with a bit more experience by now, we finished a creditable 6th in his biggest class to date. He was so much bigger than the ponies belonging to the other competitors, but his ground covering stride made up for the turns they did, and I was proud of him for keeping his composure.

I wasn't 'talking' to Ollie after the incident, so when we got back to the yard, my mum suggested we go out for a ride to forget about it and make friends again. I took Ollie, my friend Jasmin took Frankie and another friend rode her horse. We headed off up the 'Gypsy Track' - so called because of the traveller camp next to the trail that led to the best galloping fields around. The fun was the half mile field, where you walk/jogged up to the top and then whirled round and went as fast as you could for a loooooooong way, before having to pull up in front of the drainage ditch across the bottom. We made our way uneventfully up the track, cut over into the first field and headed to the top.

Ollie knew full well what was coming and jinked, jogged and snorted his way up. The other two seemed calmer. I knew my pony would finish first. He was darned fast, and could even beat Luke, mum's Thoroughbred. I was beginning to feel better. We all hit the top of the field, spaced out far enough, and set off. I was on the far left, Frankie in the middle, and Tizer, Kate's horse on the right. The first few seconds were fine. The rush, the adrenaline, then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frankie spook, jump sideways, dump Jasmin off the side, and then carry on running left, towards the track and the dual carriageway that ran along the side of the next field over.
Crap!
Barely checking to see she was alright, I told Kate to stay with Jasmin, and headed Ollie off after a rapidly disappearing Frankie. All sorts of horrific scenarios played through my head: What if he gets on the road? Falls off the unfinished concrete bridge? Trips over his reins? He disappeared through a cut in the hedge ahead of us as we crashed through the first line of bushes. I urged Ollie on, thankful for Frankie's seemingly carefree trot and our speed advantage. I didn't want to startle Frankie into running away from us as there would be no way to cut him off then.

We quickly passed the cut and headed down the dirt track, not being able to see Frankie around the curve, but at least he hadn't crossed the barrier to the road. Now it was just the bridge to worry about, and as we turned the curve, I breathed a giant sigh of relief to see him trotting for home, stirrups and long mane flying, back along the straight track. He would meet a road in a couple of hundred metres though, so there wasn't long to act. I pushed Ollie on again, with only one way I could think of to successfully catch him. There were a series of cuts and ditches that ran parallel to the dirt track and led to another field. If I could jump in, gallop along next to Frankie and cut back across ahead of him, he'd have nowhere to go. This was not a time for Ollie to refuse again! I headed on for the first turn, up and down a shallow hollow and turned left into the field pushing on again. Shortly, I could see Frankie through the trees and was going to be perfectly placed to cut him off. I asked Ollie for a sharp left turn and a leap over our bugbear- a ditch - which he responded to! I could hear Frankie heading towards us, and we pulled to a halt in front of the hedge alongside the path. We startled Frankie, who leapt over the hedge, into the ploughed field. I had no choice but to follow him, so from a standstill, we too jumped the hedge, and finally, in the heavy going, Frankie's weight slowed him down, and I was able to draw level, leap off, and grab him, holding both plunging beasts until the others caught up, and we headed home, a little astounded at the dramatic turn the ride had taken. I couldn't praise Ollie enough, and made sure to tell everyone how amazing he'd been. Frankie was none the worse for his experience, but I could tell he was going to be some character.