The day dawned clear and sunny for Rackham Horse Trials. By 8am, the event was already busy; grooms scurrying to and from various tents and arenas, horses leaving dewy hoof prints in the grass as they weave back and forth, performing various dressage movements, riders inspecting the fences they would be expected to tackle later on...
The scene was not quite as serene back home. In fact, I was blue in the face and about to call quits on the whole day because a perfectly stud sizes stone was lodged in Squirrel's shoe and my dad had to cancel his attendance because the cat needed antibiotics. That's fine I said, I've passed my HVG, I can take myself.
The whole yard was aghast. Maybe due to the fact my car is more dent-shaped than car-shaped. What about when you fall off and hurt yourself? Who will take care of the horse? When?! I said haughtily, pointedly trying to hide my limp from my latest unscheduled dismount.
As it was, I set off on time. The fact I didn't do half the items on my to-do list (exercise young horse in prep for sponsored ride the next day being one of them..) is irrelevant, I left on time. Using my better judgement, I decided to ignore the directions given to me by various more life-experienced people and set off, my phone shouting directions whilst tied in place to keep it charging.
Unfortunately, what I didn't predict, my phone did not realise I was in a lorry. A fairly large lorry. A lorry certainly not capable of going down roads narrower than 6 foot 6 inches. After taking out half a tree (Squirrel enjoyed the foliage that rained upon him) and bending my mirror completely out of place (more luck than judgement that I didn't take out any pedestrians for the rest of the route), I stopped in a pub carpark to gather my thoughts. Ignoring the urge to run into the pub with Squirrel in tow (trust me that horse can drink me under the table....but that's a story for another day), I figured out my route.
Eventually. Three agonising hours after setting off, I pulled into the Horse Trials. Ahhh I sighed happily, wiping sweat off my brow. Made it. I was greeted by a friend who incredibly generously came directly from her flight back from Portugal to keep me company (I owe her beer for life), gleefully telling me that all the horses were lame and the riders were all worse than her.
Apparantly, what I did not expect, was for her idea of "groom" to involve making helpful comments like "Fucking hell, you're jumping that?! You're going to die. What if he puts his feet down in the middle of that big spread, won't he fall over? This is awful. LOOK AT THAT DITCH. You're going to die" and feeding Squirrel breakfast biscuits for energy ("They've got oats in them!") between phases.
For a change, I had a plan. I realised at Mattingly that if I trot aimless circles in the dressage warmup, my horse will amble aimlessly around the dressage arena. So I followed my usual at home warm up. Unfortunately, Squirrel has not mastered the art of long and low at a competition so instead I felt like I was riding a llama, but you can't win them all. I earned some suspicious looks from spectators when attempting to do my canter travers, but he felt pretty on point.
The test was okay. Obedient. The only real errors were the trot to walk and trot to halt transitions, where he took me slightly literally and pretty much collapsed. Unfortunately, this test contained 4 of them. But I didn't go wrong and we stayed in the arena during the give and take so I call it a success.
"Next time I'm using proper spurs, not ones with rubber wheels on," I complained bitterly as I left the arena."He's so lazy!" Unfortunately when I retrieved my test sheet, it appeared my 34.5 (sniff, we used to get 28s, I remember, in our days of glory) was more due to me having the accuracy of a 5 year old with a colouring book. Horse 1 Me 0
The less said about the show jumping, the better. I jumped fence one okay, then pretty much put Squirrel in a choke hold for the rest of the course, adding a stride to the related distance, adding a stride in the double, deciding he wasn't going to number number 9 so I almost fell off when he did....Miraculously all the poles stayed up. I left the ring with my face hidden, apologising profusely to my horse and suggesting he runs off and loads into a pro's lorry if he wants decent riding. Horse 2 Me 0.
Ah cross country. What its all about. As the ten second count down began, I wizzed Pea-brain up, as usually, to try and coach some enthusiasm into him, and he bounded out the start box. Fence one came in his stride, as did fence two, although we were drifting suspiciously left on each approach. Now, now, that won't do, I said, there's skinnies later on. My attempt at keeping him straight involved burying him into the bottom of the lovely hedge that wanted steeplechasing. We had a lovely, joyful canter through some woods before being met by a log and some mushrooms on the way out.
Oh, jump? Said Squirrel. Uh yes JUMP I said, riding like a maniac. Then felt like a pro because I remembered to keep my elbows close to my sides to channel him for the skinny two strides out. Pop, pop.
Next was a big gappy spread. (The "What if he puts his legs down in the middle of it" fence.) At the time, I replied Oh its a nice gallop fence. Did I gallop it? Did I hell. I held, and I held and I show jumped it and it was awful. Next was the sunken road. On the approach I remembered how I braked too hard for it at Mattingley and he stopped at the top before popping down without stepping back.
This time when he stopped a couple of strides out, I thought oh its ok, he hasn't gone back. He went sideways. Oh that's okay, he hasn't gone back. Then he went back. "First refusal" Oh damn I said, I suppose I ought to try riding.
So I did and we slithered down it on the far left, meaning a sharp right hand turn (read; Haul at the mouth), to jump out and over the log at the top. Now another nice woody bit. Oh a roll top. Lets hold into it. Hold hold hold. Awkward jump. Oh it must of been those people over there I thought, always blame the horse.
Next came the coffin. Roll top going in (hold hold hold hold), big jump over the ditch, oh crap I can't get the curving line to the angled hedge, better kick. So I did and he answered and pinged it. Up a little mound to a log (hold hold hold), scrambled over it, nice and steady down the mound, closed my legs for the skinny and yay got it.
Then came the water. I carefully lined up for the house preceding it, riding the exact line I planned. Hold hold hold. Oh fuck he stopped. Oh yeah. He does actually need riding. Keep telling him to stop and even the most generous horse in the world will get fed up. So I gave myself a mental slap and popped over it, through the water and over the house the other side.
I managed to stop holding (Quite so much) and he got a little close to the trakhner, then a lovely jump over a hedge, held a little into the next roll top but not too bad, then it was my nemesis of the course.
I'm entered for Upton House Novice. Last time I went round there, I had a run out at the right handed corner. We've jumped every other corner we've ever attempted perfectly, but being entered for that, I've decided we can't jump corners. To make it worse, first we had to go down two steps then it was on a curving, downhill line from there. Because it was a tricky fence, I figured I should ride properly, so he popped down the steps sweet as you like, I closed my right elbow, channelled him through my legs and he jumped it beautifully.
Last two fences were easy, and it was over too soon.
So basically; in short; 1. I need to learn to ride 2. My horse deserves a better rider 3. I'm going to learn to ride and go break my neck trying to do a novice.
On a serious note; I felt very blessed tonight when I put my pony in his field. We had a cuddle and I breathed in his soft Squirrelly smell, and I acknowledged how very lucky I am to have such a fabulous horse. He's kind, he's generous, he's funny as hell and he's my very best friend.
