Memory Lane

A picture is worth a thousand words...

Upon going through the collection of my old horsey memorabilia, I stumbled upon this ripper of a photo.

Going, going....almost gone!

There's quite a story behind this particular moment snapped some time ago. It was at the Charlton Show and it was my first time riding in the under 16 jumping class (I had actually won the under 14 class on the rather recalcitrant Charles the previous year, but that is perhaps a story for another time!).

I had owned Grey Mercy (aka "Jack") for about 4 months at this stage. I was lucky enough to get Jack on my 14th birthday and felt very grown up and important, going from a 14 hand pony to an almost 16hh thoroughbred. It had also seen me rapidly elevated from Grade Four Pony Club competitions to Grade three, which in my youthful ignorance, made me think I had really "made it" as a rider! It would be fair to say that (in the beginning at least) Jack got us around events by virtue of his sheer good nature - not by any talent or skill on my part.

That Charlton Show day was the first knock to my invincibility and a steep learning curve for me as a rider. I was very excited to be entered in the bigger of the two junior jumping contests - and even more excited to have jumped clear and made it into the jump off! I think at that stage of my riding career, I'd only managed to make it into a jump off a handful of times before....and never at anything over about 60cm!

I remember cantering into the arena with a vague notion of going really fast...desperately wanting to win that broad blue sash. I had no knowledge or experience of jumping a horse on slippery grass, of how to plan to ride lines in a jump off...or even the concept of keeping a horse balanced when picking up the tempo!

The first few jumps I think were ok; however, the further we went along, the faster and flatter Jack started jumping and we had a few rails down. With the clock ticking, I then became preoccupied with the idea of going faster, not realising that any chance of placing had already been lost. I vaguely remember turning too sharp into the pictured fence. We approached it crooked and going too fast.....Jack slipped on take off - and the photographer from the local paper happened to be sitting there and snapped the above delightful shot (which Mum later presented to me at Christmas!).

To this day, I am not sure how Jack did not land on me, but we both hit the deck and I was luckily thrown clear. My lingering memory from this incident is that as I stood up, Jack got to his feet....cantered on, cleared the last fence and left the arena without me!

Despite this particular sticky moment, Jack was an absolutely fantastic teenager's mount and he is responsible for developing my love of eventing. It is fair to say I learned a lot from this point on! He took me from being a nervous jumping rider through to my first Pony Club State Horse Trials, as well as numerous, shows, gymkhanas, flat rides and even games! He was quiet, always tried his hardest and was one of the most generous horses I have had the pleasure of owning. To horses like this, we owe everything. xx

Memory Lane

Horse Trials...(and tribulations!)

Memories of my first O.D.E

After presenting to the judge's car....ready for our moment of truth!

Someone recently asked me if I remembered my first horse trials...as if I could ever forget! We all have to start somewhere and I can vouch for the fact I started at the *very* bottom.

 

At the time, I was very new to Pony Club (and had only just scraped in my requisite two rallies in order to compete). I did not see my "greeness" as an obstacle - whatever I lacked in equestrian knowledge and skill was made up for with boundless enthusiam! All summer I had practiced "jumping" over tomato stakes suspended on icecream containers...keenly inspired to jump by episodes of " The Horse in Sport" on TV. It is fair to say that my version of "jumping" at that stage did not require all four of my pony's legs to leave the ground together!

 

My pony at the time (christened with the orignal name of "Patch") did not share my passion for this jumping caper. He was definitely not going to break any land speed records either, as he'd plant his feet if he'd had enough (regardless of my frantic kicking) and rarely got out of second gear. Responsiveness was not a term he'd heard of (he had a mouth of iron)...but he'd taught scores of children to ride before he came to me and was extremely safe.

 

The fun part of entering for my first real competition was the preparation. There was a lot of terminology and rules to learn. Dressage, I thought, was a mystifying activity that we had to do before we got to the jumping phases. I spent a lot of time learning the test and pacing it out around the loungeroom. If I recall correctly, Mum had to ask someone to interpret the dressage test for me, particularly the "between A and K canter" part... as I had taken it to mean I had to canter for just that short distance - not that it was merely the transition that had to occur between those markers!

 

Nevertheless, I fronted to the competition on the day, ready to take on the world. I had washed Patch and even attempted to plait his mane (with rather interesting plaits, inspired by golf balls!). I didn't know that few other kids in Australia bothered to plait for Grade 5 horse trials, because I'd been reading English instructional books! Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I don't have any video or photos of my actual test, however upon cleaning up recently I found this...my dressage test sheet from that very day. Sometimes, being a hoarder is a blessing.....!

 

 

I love the comments in the collective marks: "Too much kicking"and "nice safe combination"

 

According to the added scrawl on the tattered edge of the test sheet, I was sitting 7th after dressage on this memorable occasion. I think I had written that because it sounded more positive than the "third last" that was the reality of the situation!

 

Unlike the heroines of my favourite English pony books, miracles did not occur to see me elevated to winning a ribbon. My showjumping round started off well, clearing the first 3 or 4 jumps. For some reason, Patch refused (at a double) and I went to turn him around to re-present to the fence. Next thing I know, he was hot-tailing it out of the ring and ducked UNDER the flapping bunting surrounding the showjumping ring. To add to the humiliation, the elastic of the bunting snapped harshly across my face as he made this rather dramatic exit. Somehow, a few helpers got us back into the ring again so I could finish my round, but alas it was all too late. I still vividly remember sobbing my heart out into Patch's now tear-sodden and falling-apart plaits with oh-so-much disappointment (and shock!). It was my first experience - albeit a rather unsual one - of how easy it is to get eliminated in the sport of horse trials...for the next few years I would discover many other ways to meet the same fate!

 

Cross country was rather uneventful in comparison and we sedately trotted our way around. I was somehow convinced that a good round could re-instate me into the competition, not realising that a big fat 'E' on a Horse Trials scoreboard is permanent for the day!

 

Obviously, this experience did not curb my enthusiasm, only deepened the ambition further!

A part of me will always be that driven, horse-mad, little girl. :-)