early years, hazy summers

I first started riding when I was 5 but although you ride and you learn, you don't, I think, gain an appreciation for what your horse or pony is doing for you until you're a bit, or maybe a lot, older.

I've talked about being lucky enough to have Georgia and Ollie when I was young, but what helped me most as a rider, and when I first started taking things in a learning/teaching myself and horses way, was riding for a dealer.

Ronnie Mowbray was from Cumbria and he was the dealer who had brought Ollie over and taken Georgia away - I didn't even cry. I hadn't had a chance to become attached to her. He would make a weekly visit to the yard to bring horses, but mainly ponies, to be schooled, have some competition experience and generally become rideable and sellable. He'd also take away the last batch who'd been there a few weeks.

Now, I can't remember how it came to me, except with all modesty I was the best under 12 rider there, probably under 16 too, but I wasn't big headed. I was shy as anything, which was a bit of an anomaly compared to the other kids who rode there. I had my own pony, which didn't make me popular, and we didn't have much money, which didn't help either. I could take or leave their friendship, but it was the riding that mattered. All year round there'd be new ponies for me to try. These ranged from the 10hh children's pony, Trigger, who just needed exercising and showing to potential buyers (I was small enough to ride a 10 hh pony!!) to the ex 138cms JA jumper Scarlett, who would hurtle into any size jump and more often than not jump it. But, when she didn't, she veered to the right at the last moment, leaving me in the dirt. I soon became wary and stuck to flatwork! There were 'Enry and 'Enrietta, the two chestnut lookalikes, both with a broad blaze and 4 white socks. There was Gump, who was really called Jake and with us to sell because his child didn't want him anymore. There was Zebedee, a canny grey with a wall eye who I'd have wanted for myself if he hadn't been only 13hh.

I was a bit too small to ride anything over 14hh but my biggest regret was an iron grey/blue roan mare named...Blue...who was the epitome of my dream pony at the time. I'd gone through the palomino phase and the black arab stallion phase, but at the time, and a little bit even now, my dream was a compact, grey pony who would jump and look gorgeous. And she was. But she was only 4 and feisty so one of the yard grooms who was jumping at a pretty high level took her on and made her her project. She was sold pretty quickly, but I couldn't help thinking: if only I was a year older!

I would usually ride with my mum watching but sometimes Ian the yard manager and my trainer, would keep an eye on me and make sure the ponies were progressing. I can't say I had much idea of what I was doing in view of long term goals. My idea was that I rode the ponies to keep them fit and taught them a few training movements. However now I look back I realise how invaluable that was. At that point I already knew, even if I didn't understand, the concept of impulsion from the hindlegs, tracking up, working a pony up into the bridle, flexion and transitions. I took all this knowledge for granted when I eventually had a bare broke 5 year old of my own to work with, but I knew it.

One of the older ladies at the yard owned the stables' favourite. Sylvester, a 15.1 fleabitten grey schoolmaster. What a find he'd been from the dealer. Sylly was a legend. All the competition grooms clamoured to take him in the show jumping classes and the higher level dressage classes as he was clearly a talented little horse. But he was inexperienced Irene's first horse. She loved him to bits and she worked on her flatwork with him, did small jumps and hacked out. He wanted for nothing and she loved to see him do the bigger classes, which he often won.

Sometimes though when we were riding in the evenings, Syl would calmly cheek his rider all through a session. He would be lazy, he wouldn't engage his hindlegs, he wouldn't work up into an outline, he would ignore a canter aid, he would stick his neck out on circles. Irene would get frustrated and so we'd swop, me onto Syl, her onto Ollie. She was very small and looked good on Ollie as she enjoyed his pony gaits and his lack of guile - within a year of having him he'd grown into a smart little chap who would do a very accurate prelim level test. His stubbornness under saddle lessened a lot. Meanwhile Sylvester would effortlessly transform back into the well behaved horse he'd been trained to be. A quick gee up and he'd settle into his standard way of going. Irene never disciplined him, save to tell him he was naughty but she was always puzzled as to why he wouldn't listen. Syl was far too much of a gent to really take the p*ss, but it was comical to watch as he serenely ignored her vocal reprimands. I loved her dearly but when I look back I do worry that if Parelli had been common then that she would have baffled that poor horse with it!

Messed about timeline

I've written about different things at different times because to keep to one timeline would be difficult and things happen that I want to make note of.

Since I'm inspired by showing, I'll jot a bit of that down - and how I wish I could go back and do it again!!

By the time I was 11 I'd grown into Frankie a little bit. We did local shows, we show jumped, dressaged, did cross country, although the battering my nerves had taken from experiences with Ollie took another year or so to be healed. Taking Frankie cross country was a dream. I took he and Ollie to Brettanby, our local Hunt's hunter trial. This had been my first ever away from home event when I first got Ollie and it lasted 3 fences, before the first water crossing and elimination.

Coming back brought some memories but since Ollie was now a water pro, I wasn't worried. He was entered in the triers at around 85cms and Frankie in the open at around 95cms.

I knew the course well, having schooled there before and although it had been reversed, my ride on Ollie went brilliantly. He flew round, I was riding him in a short cheek hackamore at this point, but our relationship was excellent and I could just give him his head. We finished in something like two minutes under optimum time which meant no chance of a result! But I didn't care. Ollie had made it. He'd gone from being grumpy, withdrawn, misunderstood and slow to happy, outgoing, supported and FAST!

With him finished, I cooled him down and handed him over to Mum, swapping over to Frankie for the open. I put in his studs and overgirth - yeah, all the gear! - and started warming him up. Nothing really fazed him, even at 6. He was alert to everything, but always controllable. I'd walked the course, which incorporated a wooded section - very twisty and turny - that had a treble of elephant traps set on odd distances. They were probably my scariest fence, but approaching them on Frankie, with my mind screaming 'they're huge! surely not! i can't even see the next one!' he was bold enough to take a stride out at the first, then head for the next which was to the right, round a treestump, leap that, and then to the last, which was left and diagonal, and flew over that too. At that moment in our relationship I knew I could trust this horse with anything. What an alien feeling!

The memory that sticks in my mind most was a qualifier for working hunter where fence 8 was a bullfinch, around 5 foot high, which I could not see over on the course walk. The idea was the horses brush through the top, like a chaser fence. That idea to me was a nauseating one. Frankie didn't know to do that! He'd just see a solid wall of brush! We'd got round the course with a couple of poles down up to then, so we weren't in the running. I harboured no hope of a rosette but barrelling down to this hedge, I have never had such a feeling of 'not gonna make it!' as this. Now, that's meant to transmit to your horse, right?

Not Frankie. He went for it. Tried to clear the brush but ended up going through the top as he was meant to. We had one stop at a large stile, but maybe my negativity had seeped through by then, Frankie thinking 'jeez, I've just taken her over that hedge, what more does she need me to do?!' It was a harrowing experience but we managed a 4th place as 23 out of 28 people were eventually eliminated in the class, the course was that grim!

I've been out of touch

with horses for a while. Then a friend asked me to judge some showjumping a couple of weekends ago. Another judge there was a girl I used to compete with and against. She'd done the Uni thing too, but had stayed at home and currently has a 4 year old novice hack/riding type with whom she's aiming for HOYS.

HOYS always stirs something in me, it was this time last year I started this blog, and what a failure it was after a couple of months!

I read plenty of other blogs, but i'm just not in the position at the moment to get back into riding, much though I would dearly love to. I'd love to take Jack, my 'novice' 15 year old to the show I judged at, next year. I'd love to do hunter trials again with Frankie, even working hunter and go to HOYS. But things change and you can't always get what you want (Thanks, Rolling Stones)