In the beginning

Duncan and I first met riding across Mongolia. When I say riding across, we rode the length and breadth of Mongolia, 3,600km over 3 months, with the Blue Wolf Totem crew, raising money for the Veloo Foundation and the Children of the Peak Sanctuary Kindergarten. You learn a lot about a place, and a lot about a person, when you share a journey of that duration and magnitude. There were many challenges on the BWT expedition, but it wasn’t quite the adventure that I craved, and coming to terms with that was the main challenge early in the trip.

So when Duncan asked if I fancied the Gaucho Derby, I was up for it. It is billed as the hardest adventure horse race in the world. I have always been fascinated by Patagonia, first as a teenager, inspired by Richard Llewellyn and his fabulous saga series about the hardship in the Welsh mining valleys, the subsequent emigration of whole communities from Wales to Patagonia and their triumphal return to North Wales as wool millionaires. Further inspiration came from climbing, the Cerro Torre must be the best-looking mountains in the world, and I yearned to see them in the flesh.

The Gaucho Derby “Race” as such was never a particularly sharp goal for me. Not enough to train for, anyway. Work and the winter got in the way of most of the prep I had planned but I wasn’t too worried about that. I wasn’t worried about the hardships of the race; I have slept in a tent for months on end, gone weeks without a shower, excelled in suffering, walking, and climbing and crawling up cliffs and hills at altitude in all sorts of weather with every piece of gear I might need on my own back.  I know that I can just keep putting one foot in front of the other, breath after breath, day after day. I have ridden thousands of miles and hundreds of horses in my life, and even made a few from scratch. The Gaucho horses are working farm horses, so all should have a basic education. I just wanted to ride nice horses in the wilds of Patagonia and after the amazing, nurturing but constrained logistics of BWT, I liked the idea of us being self-sufficient, out in a tent, carrying just what we needed, following the most suitable route from point to point.

The people

The people on these trips are always the fascination. I am a watcher and a listener, and a bat-like eavesdropper and intrinsic motivation is one of my favourite topics. I thought I knew all about horse people, but it turns out even the most open minded of us still live in our own echo chambers! I thought the fact we all had horses in common would make us all best friends. What I had forgotten is that many people keep and ride horses to win, in races, in competition or just simply in life. While many people I know sink all their effort passion, emotion, effort, time and money into a horse, many others sink all their energy into what the horse can bring back to them. It is still a form of love, albeit on a transactional level that is often far below the surface. A few of the other guys on the trip were simpler souls, they live in worlds where horses still work, and are still judged and prized for their work, like racing and ranching, where the horses value is directly related to his usefulness.

Everyone on the trip was a pretty experienced rider.  Some were more elegant than others, some had obviously ridden more Western than English style, and weren’t as neat and tidy as I am used to, but they were all effective if not quiet or subtle. A couple of the famous horse trainers on the trip have been patronising about the riding abilities of the group as a whole, but hey they have egos to nourish and businesses to protect! They might well have been talking about me with those comments; all I can say is never judge a book by its cover. They never saw the Rockstar buck!! I might look like a stiff, middle-aged woman and I’m not the best or the quickest at getting on from the ground (even after a few months eschewing the luxury of the mounting block) and I certainly wasn’t fighting fit, but I knew once I had my leg over the side, I was fine up there.

What I had not accounted for was the level of challenge that the “hardest adventure horse race in the world” would bring out in people. I know very well the level of obsession that people are capable of but was surprised at the degree of importance that other race contestants had attached to this particular goal. They had a glint to their eyes that I recognised. I know these people, I know that look all too well, it lives on the face of climbers, and mountaineers and ultra-runners and successful surgeons. These have all been my people; in different times and different lives, I used to find that glint attractive. There is something compelling and magnetically beautiful about a human completely consumed by an obsession or a goal.

But horses don’t work like that.  For me that glint has never been associated with horses. Horses in fact have been my antidote and my refuge and possibly even my escape route from that world. And the closer that I get to looking at the world from a horse’s point of view, especially with the last few years’ focus being on communication and cooperation rather than training and the close communion that can occur during the Equine Touch myofascial work, then the less I think and feel like that sort of human.

Some of the 40 contestants on this race had been dieting/ training / practising for years, they had been building up to the event to the nth degree; every aspect of the last two years of their life had been about getting ready for The Gaucho Derby, had been re-framed in the context of the GD. Some had been told that they had to attend the Gaucho Academy prep camp, to learn all the navigation and camping skills needed for the race. Others had to buy all the camping gear, and then had to learn how to use that kit. One of the English gals had never even slept in a tent before!

I’m struggling to explain myself. For some of the contestants, THE RACE had taken on a life of its own. It wasn’t a holiday, or a nice trip, or an adventure, it was going to be a life changing personal challenge by which they would literally judge and define themselves for many years to come.  Honestly!

I guess I hadn’t factored in that some of the people who would sign up for an adventure horse race haven’t fought their way through a 12-hour operation or suffered their way up some big hills in their life…my bad.

The horses

I was really looking forwards to riding the Argentinian horses. Some of the absolute favourite horses I have known in my life were the team of nimble, fast and spicy chestnut mares that that Guille bred for Roger Whewell’s Innerwick polo team when I was his UK head girl. These Patagonian cattle working horses would also have some of the fabulous Criollo blood that made our polo ponies so special. The GD horses are all working ranch horses, hired from local families for a substantial financial reward, so I also expected that they would be a bit more trained than the sometimes-variable Mongolian horses.

The truth, of course, is that they were a mixed bag. Other people’s horses always are. I have been very lucky, or very choosy in my life and the horses that I have trained, helped with, bought, or been paid to ride have all been classy. They eat horsemeat in Argentina, and ship out horsemeat to other countries for consumption, so they breed and then they do cull. The horses we met were all well-made, with nice wide chests, strong shoulders, and a good strong arse. They are also pretty herd bound. There are a lot of Percheron crosses; the wild country was colonised with wagons back in the day so the draught influence in the ranch horse is strong. There were some mixed with Arabian blood, others with Criollo, but many of the horses had more draught than I personally would choose for a 50km leg across rough mountain country.

There were also some issues with the standardisation that had been imposed for the race. The gauchos all neck rein, with very little bit pressure, but all the bridles we were issued with had a Tom Thumb Pelham with a curb chain. There was quite a lot of rearing from the various horses; my theory is that this was separation anxiety and nappiness compounded by a careless catch in the mouth from an unexpectedly severe bit. My second horse was one of these; he spun and danced, and went sideways, and pogoed a bit, but luckily we were riding in a three, so we just thought forwards and got going, I basically chewed on liver chestnut ears for about 15kms and 500m of ascent and then he eventually relaxed into forward motion where all was lovely as long as I didn’t actually touch his mouth with the reins.

The horses are all barefoot normally and apparently manage the super tough terrain perfectly fine like that but for some obscure welfare concern they had been shod especially for the race. They were supposed to be newly shod but some of the shoeing jobs were not quite so fresh. The resulting issue is that horses that are normally used to complete shock absorption from bare hooves must suddenly deal with the concussive forces from steel horseshoes. Shod hooves have much reduced proprioception, as well as the increased concussive forces, so the horses couldn’t protect themselves as well as they would have been able to barefoot. All the horses that I rode ended up footsore on their last leg, obviously choosing the soft ground over the hard and slowing substantially on the downhills; they all felt like they had sore feet and shoulders, and I can’t help but wonder if that would have been the same had they had been left barefoot as they are used to working.

The horses are mainly used to working, moving sheep and cattle. I think they didn’t quite see the point of setting off into the hills with no animals to follow and with no discernible purpose to the journey. Especially with our uncertain navigation, which led to a constant question at the back of my mind about whether we were going the right way, I found it hard to inspire them with a positive sense of where we were going, let alone why. The first pair we rode were from the home estancia, where they run the start camp and the Gaucho Academy, and they were quite good at leaving home and heading off into the distance. Horse number two, the liver chestnut, settled into his role and turned out to be a good keen worker, albeit with not much direction and no brakes, until we had an unfortunate topple.

The topple was genuinely unfortunate. We were doing well on day 3, we had made good navigational choices, we could see the horse station and we were on time to get there at 550pm, just before riding hours finished. The liver chestnut was quite slight for me and with the added weight of the packs, I could feel he was getting a bit tired. I was doing my best to nurse him along in a pony trot until we got a bit closer to the station and I could walk the last couple of kilometres. Then he just stepped off a massive pampas grass tussock a bit awkwardly. He almost overbalanced, I flopped a bit over his narrow shoulder and the saddle slipped sideways. There was no saving the situation, he almost went over with me as I slithered to the side and then once I landed on the ground and the saddle settled around his belly he panicked and bucked and bucked and bucked until the saddle bags were completely detached from the saddle and himself, and debris lay scattered around the pampas. Then instead of running for the horse station he came straight back to me to be rescued! The saddle was trashed, so we had to lash it all together and walk in on foot, sending the other two riders ahead so that only Duncan and I got the inevitable time penalty. That was the turning point for us, the split-second moment at which our race ended. We had to wait out a 3-hour penalty, there was a substantial race hold the next day due to bad weather, and Duncan and I then drew two very difficult to catch horses. To slow us down even more, I had been issued a replacement saddle with girths made out of literal seat belt canvas with holes burned in the Kevlar and clever leather knots to adjust the length; I couldn’t work out how to do them up without Gaucho help! All this faffing meant we were very late leaving on day 4 and we just never caught up that time.

Horse number 3 was the best, a fabulous, fast looking palomino with a great work ethic. He was great in the woods, refusing to step into the bogs, careful abut going between trees and very clever with his feet but unfortunately, he had no belly to hold the dodgy seat belt girth in place so literally every time we pointed up a hill or incline the saddle slipped back and needed re-adjusting. Every time. And his lovely smooth ground covering canter was wasted in the mountainous woods.

The horses that finally finished us were the daft draughts, Bob the Cob and Larry Lasagne. They were a terrible pair together, neither wanted to go in front of the other and riding abreast, they reached a pact that averaged 2km an hour. Trot was literally more effort than it was worth and canter unthinkable. We walked on our own two feet a lot because it was quicker and less effort to drag them than to kick and cajole. I must have walked 50km over those two days. I do think they would have been better with a herd of cows to move but they literally saw no point in our forced walk over the mountain. I just couldn’t find a way to raise my energy and encourage them on any faster. All the horses I have ridden in my life have been blood horses, or mostly blood. Even Cal here at home, with his half-draught body, has more of a thoroughbred brain than those two. A blood horse will always go, until they really can’t. These two really wouldn’t go, even when they could. Duncan said it best- “why would you breed this?”

One of the Aussie girls apparently was so desperate she even took her belt off and tried to use that as a ‘motivator’ – the horse just stopped dead and looked at her. Turns out it’s not just the polo ponies that are tough- you really can’t bully an Argie horse!

Larry and Bob broke us. After two days of dragging them over the hills, I just didn’t have another reluctant horse in me. And as we had already been carried forwards, completion was out of the window, the finish line was just an esoteric concept on the map, there was a soft option available, we could and did choose not to draw at the final horse station and not to ride the last two legs.

The place

The terrain in Patagonia is quite simply brutal. And the maps truly don’t do it justice; with 50m contours and 4km to a square, the maps were based on historical surveys, more like vague sketches in a tour guide than navigational assistance. We had the GPS for the direction of travel, but it simply took me ages to tune into the landscape. The flat, luscious, green grassy flat bits hid horse swallowing bogs, you would try to follow a contour around the bog to find enormous ravines that didn’t figure on the map and either needed circumventing or crossing, the roads were ephemeral in their reality and the hills complex and rocky. There seemed to be no easy routes across country. I thought I was good at following the faintest path of where others had been before, but it turns out that in Europe, quite a few others must have been there before compared to the foot traffic in Patagonia!

It’s also country where climate change is happening starkly in front of your eyes. The hanging glacier on Fitzroy is much smaller now than the pictures I have memorised from the cover of Summit 42, a magazine I have kept since 2008 because they kindly published one of my articles.  Richard Llewellyn described seas of lush green grass; the Welsh pioneers thought they had arrived in paradise. The sheep may have made them their fortunes but they trashed the land. Overgrazing damage and resulting desertification was obvious wherever you looked. Another Duncan quote- “it’s just clapped-out sheep country”. The wind in Patagonia is biblical, and one day it blew up a proper dust storm, that we rode through covered up like Bedouin in the desert.

Many of the mapped lakes were dry, as were the creeks and rivers, all fed by glacial melt water that no longer reached that spot and there were ghost estancias, remains of houses and farms, abandoned when the river moved, or the dust blew in, or the grass simply ran out.

There were a couple of places where we rode alongside a fence marking a private estancia on one side and National Park on the other; on the National Park side of the fence, you couldn’t see a scrap of bare ground while on the ranch side there were patches and tussocks of pampas grass and thorn bushes with scraped bare earth in between.

The fences are incredible. Wood is not scarce in Patagonia and the estancias are marked out by mile upon mile of high-tensile wire fence, with only the occasional wire gate. This added to the navigational challenge; the fences aren’t marked on the map so you would be tootling along nicely with a fabulous plan, to be foiled by a fence line that you then had to ride up and down until you found the gate…often on the road that had seemed a long way around but turned out to be the easiest passage through the complex terrain.

The challenge

Although described as the world’s hardest adventure horse race, this was still a carefully curated experience rather than a pure adventure. You pay your money; you land at the hotel and everything else from that moment is taken care of for you. You will get horses, you will get the gear you need, the route is set, you will be kept safe, and you will be scooped up and rescued if required. The logistics for this race were awesome and crazy and outrageous and even outlandish. We had our own GD helicopter on standby for medical emergencies. One of the ghost estancias was 25km over the hill to the next horse station by an old wagon road yet 150km detour via the main dirt road that was suitable for the back-up vehicles. Imagine the challenge of getting enough horses for 40 contestants and the crew to each horse station via mostly dirt roads. In Argentina when people give you the estimated time of arrival to an estancia, they give you a time it takes to get to the turn off from the main road- the driveway is then about 20km long!

The route had been chosen for us. It was deliberately chosen to take us through difficult country, and there were some sections of the route that I felt there was dubious ethical justification to take the horses over. For example the rock bogs on the plateau of death looked horrific. We got lifted over that bit due to timing out after our slow, long day in the woods, but the videos I have seen were of people who were right on the breadcrumb GPS route and the horses were still getting badly bogged. Rock bogs are a peculiar sort of hell. Imagine a lovely shale, scree stone surface that looks safe to walk on until the horse sinks in clay up to its chest and as it is fighting for its feet, there are rocks and boulders flying. There were other sections where the route had been carefully chosen to test people but testing people here also involved testing the horses. The horses didn’t sign up to satisfy some random human egotistical goal. It was almost like the route setters had asked themselves the question – how outlandish an area can we put these people in? There was generally a simple logical route, but if you ‘chose’ another route, where could you end up? And the simple logical route was often not particularly obvious, the marked roads ephemeral in the dust, or lost to recent change, the lakes often dry, the glacial melt streams on the map historical notes rather than accurate representation of the current topography. Erik, the organiser, asked an Aussie girl why she came straight down the mountain on the last leg instead of using the path? The answer was “if I had found the f-ing path of course I would have f-ing used it…”

Other authors have given the organisers some flak but personally I think the logistics were incredible and the basics that were promised us were tremendously well fulfilled. The curated adventure was delivered safely and with humour and grace. The crew were friendly and just helpful enough, and they certainly seemed to have their own fun. In fact, they had quite a few wild party nights! HQ were always there, watching the tracker dots for our safety; it wasn’t their job to reassure distant partners or explain strange dot location aberrations to the outside world. This is an adventure race, with way more safety mechanisms built in already than I have been used to on any other expedition. A medic team, a team chopper FFS, HQ monitoring our positions using the In-Reach beacons to make sure All OK, as well as keeping the race field together so the crew could safely cover any eventuality.

I found the idea of HQ watching the dots both reassuring and inhibiting- even the basic comms requirement of ‘All OK’ when we stopped for the night felt like seeking permission or approval from a benevolent big brother with eyes in the sky. Obviously, the route finding, the horses and the terrain were the daily challenge but in terms of safety I felt very well watched over and protected. I’ve been more worried trying to get back to a mate’s house for dinner after a lonesome winter day out in the Welsh hills when the snow and the fog have merged completely and there is no phone signal, and no one really knows quite where you are.

The clearing

It has taken me a few weeks to work out what the GD meant to me. It certainly wasn’t life changing for me, nor the scariest thing I have ever done, nor is it the most dangerous thing I have ever done. It has given me some good, fresh stories to add to the repertoire! It is the toughest thing that I have done involving horses, and I have an ongoing personal dilemma about the ethics of that.

It taught me that I am no good at pushing myself when there is a get-out clause. The ongoing fascination of intrinsic motivation. When the only way out is up and over, or down, when everything relies on me and my mates getting ourselves out of a sticky situation, then I have proved I can be that machine. However, on the GD, once we had been vehicle lifted across one leg due to missing a cut-off deadline, then we could not have completed the route and the drive to suffer just vanished. I became a tourist on holiday then, and riding over the finish line would have been a form of cheating. Had there been no lift, no cut offs, no adventure category, just ride as far as you can in the time allowed, then I would have ground it out to the bitter end, like I have done everything else in my life, but when there are options offered then grinding it out is an exercise in ego not necessity.

I learned that I don’t really like using horses just for conveyance anymore. I get my thrills from playing and training with beautiful horses and riding and working with them in a way that makes everyday horses blossom into magnificence. The days when horses are a tool for my ambition are gone for me. The Gaucho horses did show us what incredible athleticism and wisdom these animals are capable of, picking their way up and down steep scree slopes, working their way cleverly through the dense boggy forest, sure-footed over tricky rocky terrain…horses really are the best means of transport in tough country. Even if we did walk beside them for huge chunks of the hard stuff, they still carried all our gear. The Patagonian terrain was brutal, the distances some of the horses did quite long, especially with the extra miles spent getting lost or diverting around obstacles, and motivating spent, footsore horses to move along for my personal achievement doesn’t sit easy with me. A fellow participant said to me that the Gauchos will be using horses in this crazy country for the next 200 years and that is probably true, but using horses to move your precious livestock down to the winter grazing before the snow sets in is a completely different matter to a group of tourists swooping in and using horses to win some arbitrary adrenaline challenge.

I learned that I have found my soul mate. Duncan and I made a good team, working well together, with no cross words and we were completely congruent in our aims and our principles. We aimed to be slick and efficient and see how things went! Had the ‘race’ not gone awry early on we may have made different choices, but we were in complete accord with our decisions once everything changed. In dealing with horses, we learn early on in life that anything can change in a heartbeat, that one moment of inattention changes the day, and once the liver chestnut trashed the saddle and the gear, our trajectory was set. And we were fine with that. Everyone showed their true nature on this trip, the good the bad and the ugly.  Not all of it was pretty, but some of it was pretty amusing. And we pair came home safe, sound, with bones and principles intact. We didn’t lose the plot, we didn’t bawl anyone out, or behave badly, we looked after our horses, looked after ourselves and each other, and got to ride some nice enough horses in spectacular country.

Most of all, I learned that big travelling circuses are not my bag. It’s different when I can go as trip medic for the circus- that brings its own purpose and its own challenges outwith the arbitrary adventure.  I like camping out, and I don’t mind eating dried pasta, and getting grubbier by the day despite flannel washing like a Victorian. But what I really like is the dreaming and the planning stage, and I also like the uncertainty of never knowing exactly how a big do will turn out. I would like to go back to Patagonia, although other wild places in the world are also available, but I would like to go with a small select group of like-minded friends, treading lightly in the world, self-contained, self-sufficient, sneaking under the radar, learning the feel of the land by travelling through like a whisper of wind.

All GD photos by the fabulous Kathy Gabriel

It has been a tense couple of days in Nelipot land. Never good to finish your first operation of the day and then find a few missed calls on your phone, including the yard owner, friend and vet practice office. Poor Cal was very subdued, with his head right down, and didn’t want to move. This is unheard of in the morning when he is usually straining at the stable door, keen to get out and eat grass with his best girl Bonnie!! I knew instinctively from the video they sent me that he had a bellyache.

I am blessed to be at a yard with excellent caretakers. They immediately spotted there was a problem, and called the vet, who promptly stripped off his top, (much to my friend’s delight LOL) and did the necessary examination. He diagnosed an impaction colic.

Apparently impaction colic is the commonest veterinary emergency at this time of year when the weather changes. In humans, this would be called constipation. For the colorectal surgeons who read this, you will be delighted to know Cal got sedated, had a manual evacuation and then had a good litre or two of rehydration via a nasal tube.

Why did this happen? In Cal’s case there are probably a couple of causative factors.

First is his tendency to eat his bed. We are/ were on rape straw pellets that form a lovely absorbent base but these pellets need rehydrating before being laid as a bed. And Cal the Irish eating machine has inconveniently developed a taste for them- rape straw is annoyingly palatable. We caught him eating them in preference to hay and breakfast a couple of months ago and so have started mixing them with expensive shavings and the older bedding to try and make this option less appealing. But his bed was redone a couple of days ago and a couple of evenings ago I found him applying himself to his new bed. The pellets need soaking before they turn into sand- he will sift through the sawdust to find any pellets that are still holding their shape and munch away. Now I’m sure he has been eating bits of his bed for ages so what made the difference this time?

A horse requires 20-40L of water a day for body systems to function correctly. This requirement is the same all year round. But where the horse gets his water from may differ with the seasons.

Horse Water Consumption – Summer vs. Winter

Fresh grass consists of up to 85% water. Horses grazing for long hours on green pastures may very likely drink less than the 5 – 10 gallons a day from a direct water source. They are meeting their daily water requirements through grass consumption. Conversely, hay should contain less than 15% water. During winter months, when hay becomes the bulk of forage eaten, then direct water intake must increase.

Our stables have automatic water drinkers. Paddy used to hate his and rarely drank from it. All the horses I have kept at this yard prefer the water from the trough in the field and will always have a really good drink by the gate when first turned out. I think this is partly because it is easier to get a really good drink from the trough, and also the water probably tastes better- there is inevitably some organic matter in the bottom lending an earthy tang to the water.

The problem comes in winter when the cold weather comes in- the trough doesn’t have to be frozen over for the water to be too cold to drink easily and quickly. It turns out that many horses don’t like to consume icy or chilled water.

With Paddy we learned this expensive lesson a few years ago and mixed very sloppy winter feeds and put buckets of water in his stable, topped up with a kettle to take the cold edge off.

The secret to cold weather hydration

In summer, on the livery yard we currently call home, the horses are turned out for a longer time and eating fresh green grass which has a high water content. In winter, the horses go from night turnout to shorter daytime turn out and although the winter grass in the middle of the track is longer it is also stalkier and probably has a lower percentage water content.

Cal has always been good at drinking from his water drinker but he does prefer a good glugging from the water trough.

Another factor is that, with the recent incessant rain, I have been rugging him, selfishly, to make the evening brushing easier for me to ride. Maybe he got a bit too hot in his rug and didn’t keep up with his drinking.

Whatever the factors, he certainly didn’t drink enough water on this occasion to keep up with the load of pellets in his gut. Or maybe he did but the pellets that he carefully and diligently sifted out of his bed weren’t quite soaked enough and they swelled up further in his gut.

Either way it was a tense twenty four hours.

The horse who is actually famous for his elephant sized poohs didn’t pass any for a full day. He had some painkillers and was walked as many times as we could manage, and fed regular small doses of slop. Finally, the NEXT morning, some very uncharacteristically small neat Pferde-apfeln type pooh appeared. They were so unlike his usual pooh mountains that I had to check that no other horse had snuck into Cal’s stable!

Once I saw pooh I knew we were out of trouble. The way Cal dived into his bowl of mash soup yesterday morning was also a giveaway. The vet check up confirmed that the impaction had indeed cleared and we could go back to our usual routine. Thank goodness.

Straining at the door to go out with his girl

So what have I learned? Apart from the fact that the established tradition of a vet bill for Christmas didn’t die with the Padster. Thanks as always to Tom Walters Equine Equine for the stellar care they provide.

1. Stop using rape straw pellet bedding, It is really good product, warm, absorbent, rots down well and is a good all-round and economical option for those lucky people whose horses don’t develop a taste for them. The wood pellets are similar in function and price and I think are probably less appealing to eat.
2. We all know this one but please feed enough forage to last them most of the night. Cal chose to eat the straw pellets over hay and feed but most horses wouldn’t.
3. Feed salt in winter as well as summer- the winter reason being to encourage adequate water drinking.
4. Monitor water intake. Or be aware that a horse’s need for actual drinking water increases in winter and provide accordingly.
5. Don’t rely on automatic water drinkers- many horse don’t like the refilling noise, or find them annoying because they don’t deliver enough water to drink easily. Most horses find it easier to drink copiously from a lower water source- we tend to mount automatic drinkers in stables at shoulder height to avoid leg injuries.
6. Consider a means of providing tepid water top encourage fluid intake. A bucket of cold water with a kettle top up might just be very welcome.
7. Check the field troughs for ice and break when needed. We rarely get ice in Cheshire let alone thick unbreakable ice so we don’t generally need tennis balls or other trough tricks to prevent the water freezing.

Thank you for reading. Do you have any other tips you would like to share? Comment on the post and join the conversation.

And as humans we often have only so much energy. And only so much thought.

Since Rocky went over the rainbow, Cal has become my main horse again. I had forgotten how deep and meaningful that relationship with a single horse can be. We two are back to living the caballero legend, like a knight of old, with a prized and precious horse, taking on the world.

One to one, the relationship can become all consuming and so very rewarding. We know each other’s moods, each other’s bodies, each other’s foibles. I can feel his energy field from across the farm, I can lie in my bed at night and conjure his face, or the feel of riding him, I can rehearse moves in my head and my muscles and bring that muscle rehearsal to the party next time I ride. I can become obsessed with my position, my intention, my dreams for him. It is like having him from new all over again, everything is possible, except that now it is so much better because we have history and form and a relationship.

It is like finding your best friend again after a few years out of touch.

I had forgotten how much I genuinely love my best boy.

The Bedouin slept with their horses in their tents for good reason- for warmth, for security, for the horse’s safety, but how close that relationship must have been. A horse that loves you will go into battle for you.

And horses are indeed capable of love. Any person who spends a significant amount of time with horses will have no doubt in their mind that this is true. Horses recognise you in the morning, gain comfort from their regular handlers in hospital situations, will look to their human for reassurance in scary situations. If you are that human whom the horse trusted, this is the greatest privilege of all.

Cal has literally blossomed again in the role of main horse. He has always been quite self-contained, quite aloof and self-sufficient. He is food orientated but has never been much of a one for cuddles. He is now looking trim and fit, as well as alert, keen and interested in life. The little bit of extra spice has made him much more fun to ride; he feels like a willing partner in adventure rather than an acquiescent worker.  We have been going out loads, for lessons, for weekend clinics, for competitions.  He has taken it all in his stride, happy to please, be it baby piaffe steps or a show jumping course.

He had very little of my psychological energy in recent years where Rocky was working, or mostly rehabbing. It has been a joy to remember how much I love riding the gorgeous grey, how he can be a horse for all seasons, a war horse as well as a happy traveller.

A tricky horse, a rehab horse, can become all consuming, a psychological drain that leads you to question every ability, every choice, every moral question, including whether it is even ethical to ride, or to seek the riding relationship. Cal has in his time been all of those things; a rehab, a psychological and a financial drain. He broke his carpal bone aged 6, had 8 weeks in a splint, 12 weeks box rest, then 3 months walking in hand. Because of the fracture, I knew I would never shoe him but he has been the most difficult horse to keep healthy let alone barefoot, due to inflammatory and metabolic issues. He has had ulcers, recurrent abscesses, respiratory disease, seasonal head-shaking. He has been a horse that needed dressage to keep him rideable and usable, a body that needed advanced education to become strong. He has been the horse of hundreds of incremental improvements, in husbandry, in diet, in hoof-care, in correct work.

I am now reaping the rewards. He is fit and healthy and stronger than ever, in his prime at 18. I am so much more accomplished as a rider and trainer than I would ever have believed possible in the years when I was whizzing around the world on polo ponies as a teenager. I used to think shoulder in was a distant pinnacle to aspire to and dreamed only of galloping and jumping cross country. Who knew that the horse I originally bought as a low level eventing doer-upper would become the classical dressage professor and that his lesson for me would be that horses need all the work before they can get strong enough to canter and jump in a way that is healthy rather than damaging to their bodies.

Energy follows thought. And Cal has had masses of both. And I am so very grateful that he has welcomed the me back into the centre of his life and that we now can continue the journey.

What do I dream of for him now? The glorious feeling of charging around a cross country course, of exploring the country, and exploring the possibilities.

Where would I like to finish up? With piaffe, solid changes, levade.

But most of all I hope for many more years of simply loving the moment, of the joy of feeling his back lift me up, the minutiae of obsessing about the weight across his shoulders or the magnificent feeling as he sits up and back and takes on the world, a dragon slayer. Cloud Warrior was the name I chose for him and that dream has come true.

Love isn’t always enough. But with knowledge and education and a bit of obsession it can be. Energy follows thought. And as Einstein said, energy is everything.

All of us who have had the (mis) fortune to deal with a tricky horse would give our eye teeth for there to be just one thing that solves the problem and makes both of our lives easier. If I could just find the one thing that will flick the switch and change the situation.
Maybe if I could just get the diet right, he wouldn’t be so reactive? Maybe this new calmer will finally be the magic pill that makes life tolerable? Maybe I should check the saddle fit, again. Maybe this pad will make him more comfortable under saddle.
Obviously the first thing is to rule out physical problems. Is it his back, his ulcers, his teeth? Because horses can’t speak, and they show pain in a thousand different ways.
But here too lies a problem. 80% of racehorses in training and 60% of leisure horses show ulcers on endoscopy. However, 80% of racehorses and 60% of leisure horses are not threatened with the knacker’s yard daily for dangerous behaviour. There are numerous studies showing very little correlation between severity of x-ray changes and behavioural changes in horses with kissing spines. I am not advocating ignoring the physical issues in the sensitive horse- they absolutely need addressing- but beware.
Solving the physical issues may not solve the behaviour, it may just rule out that physical issue as the cause of the behaviour.
Then we go looking for trainers. How nice would it be, especially as the middle aged and rapidly ageing amateur, to abrogate our responsibility, to literally hand over the reins and get given back a suitable horse. And then ride our dream horse off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

But this horse isn’t easy for a reason. If we could have the dream that easily with this horse, I promise you, we would already have managed it. Horses want to co-operate. Horses are first sentient. The underlying issue is trust, confidence, self-regulation, not training.

We need to look at training. What are we seeking?
Are you seeking compliance with your commands, no matter what? In which case, employ the trainer who uses flooding and coercion, however light and kind, to get results.
Make sure you watch the trainer in action. If the trainer won’t allow you to come watch them at work, then why on earth would you trust them with your horse? You wouldn’t send your dog away to a kennels you hadn’t checked out. Or let your child to stay with a stranger. Most of us have a level of applied force that we won’t tolerate, and that may differ between individuals. Firm, non-negotiable coercion can appear very kind, but it is still coercion.
You will get back a trained horse who has learned that his opinion is if no value and that he has no choice in life other than to do what the human wants. Which is fine if you intend to keep that vibe going; it works, plenty of people do it and they have happy equestrian careers based on that premise. Where it doesn’t work is if that shutdown horse comes home and you offer them a voice again; then the compliance construct will come tumbling down and the undesirable opinions will surface. And then you can either accept or reject those opinions. Most reject them; it’s often difficult having a non-compliant horse. You then need to send the horse back to the trainer or learn how to be the coercive trainer yourself.
Most of us would say that we seek cooperation with our horses, a partnership based on trust and mutual understanding. That is easy with a low energy horse, or a naturally happy phlegmatic horse. It is not so easy with a high energy horse, anxious that the world is out to get them. They are the horses we call sensitive or tricky. I believe that all horses are sensitive, but there are the horses who wear their nerves on the outside and are difficult and dangerous to handle in high stress situations as a result. They are the individuals who default to flight or fight, not the cohort who freeze.

How do we train these tricky horses? Trainers can still flood them. Some horses will come to grief fighting of fleeing their way out of an overwhelming situation. If they can be kept physically safe until they reach a state of learned helplessness, they might become useable riding horses. Or they might be designated a professional’s ride, never completely reliable but talented enough to make the undesirable behaviour acceptable within the paradigm of their existence.
What if that horse happens to belong to the ageing amateur with limited funds?
You can sell the horse, free yourself from the burden, devolve the responsibility, not care where they go, because they are no longer your problem. There is no shame in that decision, many people before you have chosen this solution. Horses are expensive, they can be dangerous, and they are meant to be fun, our leisure activity, our joy and our release.
What happens if the ageing amateur is too stubborn to give up? Some get hurt, then sell the horse anyway. Or euthanise him, to keep the horse and other dreamers safe in the long run.
But is there another way?
To answer that question, we first must ask ourselves what is it that we seek from our horses? And be very honest about the answer.
I want to ride my horse. I don’t care what level, competitive, non-competitive, hacking, or eventing, but for me to have a full relationship with a horse, I like to ride them. I have a retired horse I no longer ride but there is a decade of ridden history that forms the undercurrent of the relationship between us. That is my choice, my paradigm, my construct. Other people keep horses they have never ridden, that cannot be ridden. I am not sure I could. Especially if the non-ridden horse were to be an athletic 16.3 warmblood that does aerobatics for fun.
I like a bit of compliance. It makes life easy. I have a saintly Irish sport horse. He is easy to take anywhere, do anything, to simply enjoy life with. Does he enjoy his life? I do hope so. I do my best to make sure my horses have the best horse life I can offer them within our logistical limitations. Apparently, the half draught did miss me when I was away in Mongolia. He looked for me bless him. And audibly breathed out a long sigh of relief when I got back.

What I really seek in my relationship with my horses is joyful cooperation. That’s every pony girl’s dream, right, a melding of souls and spirit.
I don’t want simple compliance, especially if the compliance has been trained with coercion.
I want a partnership with my horses. I want them to have a say in our relationship. However the fundamental principle of offering our horses a voice is that we must listen to all the answers, not just the answers we like. We must validate the no as well as the yes, or the voice and the yes will have no value.
When we hear and validate the no, does that have to be the end of the conversation? I believe not. It might be, if we are splatted on the floor!
Can we moderate the situation? Can we lower the demand, metal or physical, to get nearer threshold? If we are working at a level near threshold, then the horse might be able to calm himself enough to stay below threshold and investigate, employing curiosity for learning. Can we explain? Using aids and signals we have in place already to help the horse to achieve a new task.

Can we compromise our training principles for a day because we need to get something done that has long term benefits? The compromising for a need of the day nearly always backfires, in my experience. That lesson will still need learning. So only compromise for emergencies. Or if you like doing the work over and over again (rueful grin here- don’t be like me).
The flip side of joyful cooperation is that we must accept there will be days of no joy, and moments of non- cooperation. And we as owners and trainers must find a construct that allows that to be true. We had an in joke when I was on the panel designing the course Excellence In Surgical Supervision; “it is all about the relationship”.

There is never just one thing, no magic bullet, no simple solution. Just trust, in love, in ourselves, in sound basics, in the truth offered by the horse.

I have taken the liberty of copying this article verbatim- because I believe that it should be available to be read by all.

Copyright: Erik F Herbermann, 2003

This article presents a general guideline of concepts and observations aimed at exploring the diverse aspects involved in charting our equestrian ideals, the guideposts by which we can navigate towards higher standards of excellence in practice. The following points are presented to bring structure and tone to this objective.

• Why are ideals important?
• What constitutes excellence in horsemanship?
• How can we attain higher quality horsemanship?
• Is true horsemanship restricted to any one form of riding?
• Is there an unprejudiced authority by which riding can be judged?
• How can we assess the correctness of our own work?
• Is there a place where true horsemanship is practiced?
• In the spirit of cooperation.
• A personal quest.

Let’s proceed without further ado.

Why are ideals important?

Contrary to what one might think, ideals are not some form of wishful thinking, nor are they even remotely impractical. Rather, they are essential beacons which help us to keep our activities on a valid course, and to draw our desires ever upward – extending our efforts beyond that which we might ordinarily do. Short term ideals are those by which we test ourselves on a daily basis. Long-term ideals could well serve us for many years, if not a life time.

Interestingly, the establishing of ideals always remains a uniquely personal matter, being wholly dependent on our individual outlook and level of awareness at any given stage of our unfolding. It is therefore important to reset them every now and then as new horizons of insight develop through the knowledge and experience we gain over time. In this way, through our ideals we have the ongoing opportunity to define and express our ever-evolving vision of the excellence we hope to manifest in our riding and in our lives.

What constitutes excellence in horsemanship?

Just as the ageless Pyramids of Egypt have been laid down on a footing of gigantic monolithic blocks, so excellence in horsemanship rests on a foundation of enduring love and respect for the horse, and reverence for the life which it represents. These bulwarks of riding originate not from the intellect but, as with genuine friendship, they are an outpouring of the human heart. It is this which fosters in us a deep sense of moral obligation for the horse’s well being, and spurs us on in search for an ever deeper understanding, and wholehearted effort to find living harmony with it.

Indeed, harmony is an indispensable element of the Classical ideal. It is a symptom of ‘resolved truth’, exemplified by spiritual, mental and physical unity, by which excellence in horsemanship can always be confidently measured. Harmony is built especially on a foundation of loyalty and trust, and secondarily on the development of physical dexterity and suitable technicalities.

Excellence is further embodied in the benign cultivation of horses’ raw, undisciplined energies through which they grow in beauty and nobility; qualities which are only revealed when we in no way diminish their nature. The better the riding, the more fully present horses are with all of their natural faculties, talents and unique personality wholly in tact. This state is brought about not only through careful gymnastic work, but notably through our ability to encourage horses to contribute to the performance with their own talents and innate enthusiasm. This, in turn, produces a work which is not only practical in its application but because of its benevolence nurtures the horses’ good health and calm disposition, resulting in their prolonged, useful life under saddle.

If we were to view these concepts from a broader perspective, through the eye of our intuitive understanding of the interdependence of all life, we could see how our ability to produce ‘excellence in horsemanship’ is truly a living expression of hope for us – being a tangible embodiment of our capacity to generate harmonious beauty here on Earth . . . that is, if we truly want that. If we were sufficiently inspired to use the momentum of such a realization, and carry its vibrant good will into every aspect of our lives, the combined creative potential would have the power to transform the face of the Earth ever more towards its original harmonious, balanced state once again. I believe that the outcome of such matters is far more in our own hands than is commonly thought.

How can we attain to higher quality horsemanship?

The pathway to the ‘Equestrian Rome’ is indeed a deeply personal one. In fact, before we can influence the horse positively, not only must we get our bodies and the aiding technicalities under control, but we need to set about cultivating the more noble characteristics of our inner being. The importance of this aspect cannot be over stated, because especially horsemanship can be so readily impoverished by the corrosive effects of our unruly egos, lack of control over our emotions, and the weaknesses in our character and personality.

Inextricably entwined within the above points, not to be overlooked, is motive. What is the true reason for doing what we do? Are we truly developing our work on substantial intentions: those which aspire to have high quality, nature-harmonious riding manifest through us, based on nurturing the horse’s willing participation, and tireless watchfulness against any repression of his spirit? The horse unfailingly, almost magically discerns the true heart – our actual intent.

Is true horsemanship restricted to any one form of riding?

The question could be answered either ‘yes’ or ‘no’. But because the issue is quite complex, it is important that we take a moment to consider carefully the various factors involved. Clearly, so much depends on an individual’s capacities: whether the rider possesses truly exceptional natural talent – has a highly intuitive ‘feel’, respect, and love for the horse; or whether a thorough study of horsemanship has been undertaken with an accomplished teacher. But almost more important than these, is whether the person is of inherently mature and honourable character, exemplified in virtuous purpose which is carried out in right action. Under such circumstances, good horsemanship can potentially flourish at any time and in any equestrian discipline wherever such noble interaction with the horse occurs.

In the very same breath, unworthy riding can also show its face virtually anywhere and at any time – sometimes for just a few brief seconds, comprised of small, inadvertent lapses that may occur to anyone, even those with fine intentions. At other times, however, considerable equestrian privation may appear when humanity’s less noble characteristics are allowed to gain the ascendency. Merely studying with an accomplished horseman, or at a famous school, does not automatically ensure that the pupil will be an excellent rider who will ultimately develop into a true horseman. Irrespective of the good quality of the teaching, when a rider’s equestrian desires are not discretely tempered by those finer personal qualities mentioned earlier, the good philosophy expounded by the teacher may never actually take root in the individual’s heart. Consequently, once that person is no longer under the thumb of the master, the perfectly sound teachings may end up being misapplied, or even used as weapons against the horse.

Sometimes the obvious needs to be stated – good riding is good riding, and poor riding is poor riding, irrespective of the equestrian discipline.

Since excellence in horsemanship has to do with the quality of our interaction with the horse, and dedication to serving the creature’s welfare above any personal ambitions, surely we need to remain uncompromising about the following points: – any approach to riding or training which, a) deliberately alters the natural sequence of the footfall of the three gaits; and/or b) routinely lames horses; and/or c) causes the creatures mental distress and psychological warping – must be regarded as a grave transgression against the spirit of true horsemanship.

Of course, there are certain some forms of temporary lameness that may occur with any horse, even those that are worked carefully. But the direct interconnection between chronic hock lameness, for example, and forced dressage training is irrefutable; much like navicular disease can often be traced to excessive jumping. In both cases, horses thus afflicted are usually physically (if not mentally) wrecked by the time they reach their early to mid teens. Whereas horses that are thoughtfully worked – in harmony with their nature – may generally enjoy healthy, useful lives well into their mid to late twenties. Correct dressage riding, by its very definition and mandate, so well delineated in any worthwhile literature on the subject, should be the most loyal custodian of well being for the horse – a bastion for its care, protection, and enhancement – but sadly, because of unknowingness, it so often is not.

As a matter of general observation, I believe it is surely important for us to acknowledge that just as there are good people and not-so-good ones in every nation, race, religion, and profession, and good and not-so-good riders in every equestrian discipline, so too there are some good and some unwanted traits in any one of us. With this is mind, it is therefore also likely helpful to avoid falling into the trap of self-righteousness, thinking we are better than others or immune to making errors. Though our heart may be in the right place, which is a very good start, we nevertheless all have feet of clay, and without extreme care, any one of us may find cracks beginning to show in our plaster. 

Is true horsemanship restricted to any one form of riding? I believe the answer is no. Though some equestrian disciplines, by virtue of their inherent, wholesome, ‘nature-oriented’ objectives, (true, correct classical riding, for example) are definitely more conducive to harmony with the horse than some others, good work is, nevertheless, not limited to any one field of equestrian endeavour. It is clearly up to each one of us, individually, to assume the responsibility for generating good quality work to the best of our ability in our own chosen riding discipline, which ever that might be.

Is there an unprejudiced authority by which riding can be judged?

Just as aeronautical engineers need to work within the laws of fluid dynamics in order to design aircraft that fly safely, it is incumbent on us horsemen to study and adhere to the laws of the horse’s nature if we are earnest about creating a truly viable form of riding. This matter is beyond opinion. To produce excellence we need to respect unequivocally the horse’s nature as the sole authority by which we appraise our work in the saddle.

It is important to appreciate that the horse’s nature is just as clear, structured, and constant as the laws and forces which govern physics and chemistry, though this fact may at times be difficult to apprehend, veiled as it is under layers of ancillary elements such as temperament, athletic ability, conformation, and the degree of sensitivity. It is certainly not the intention here to be dismissive about those very real factors, but the experienced rider knows that underneath those interesting variables all horses are indeed the same. This holds true regardless of the breed. The importance of taking variables into account does, of course, become useful as a guide to help determine for which kind of work a particular horse might be best suited. Though a Clydesdale, for example, certainly can piaffe, its talents are likely better used in front of a plough; and though an Andalusian could pull a plough (a little one), it likely makes a better dancer.

The greater the variety of horses we have the privilege of working, the more solidly the oneness of their underlying, common nature becomes evident, and the better we become at unlocking their amazing athleticism under saddle through intelligent implementation of gymnastic work without in any way violating nature.

How can we best assess the correctness of our own work?

If we take the time and care to listen to the horse, we will be able to see how our work is constantly being either ratified or denounced, as reflected by the creature’s mental and physical demeanor as well as in the quality of the gaits. For example: if a horse’s front legs show ‘goose stepping’ during trot extensions, it is a sign that the horse is likely tense, or broken apart. At times such a horse will show a dropped back, and a neck which has gotten too short relative to the size of the stride, whereby the front legs extend straight and stiffly well beyond a line drawn down the horse’s face to the ground. Further, horses’ assessment of the work could also be read by the frightened, wild, or angry look, or the lifeless, resigned or dead expression in their eyes; or by the pinned ears, pursed nostrils, snarling lips, or grinding of teeth – these are often also associated by unquietness of the tail. Such signs show up rarely when horses are conscientiously ridden.

To elaborate on the final point mentioned earlier, much of the time-honoured literature warns of the importance of maintaining purity of the gaits: walk four-beat, trot two-beat, and canter three-beat. Yet all manner of study is afoot which is trying to fit four-beat trots into the realm of acceptance. Indeed, horses may well show a four-beat trot and even a pacing walk or stiff-backed ‘deer-like’ canters while out in pasture, but we recognize that it is then usually a manifestation of tension. One might therefore deduce that since displays of such things are ‘natural’, that therefore tense, broken gaits under saddle should also be considered acceptable. But, should be our view, haven’t we then forgotten what the prime purpose of dressage, and more specifically, classical riding is? Isn’t it meant to help direct horses’ raw energies in a more thoughtful, disciplined way, whereby the creatures are enabled to demonstrate the elastic beauty of pure, balanced gaits while carrying the rider – and that our work accordingly takes on the deeper characteristics of a truly ennobled art form? Isn’t it the constant aim of ballet dancers to be free of tension, so that their performance takes on those coveted light and airy, gravity-defying qualities? Do we as riders also not recognize that tension anywhere in our own bodies is one of the foremost adversaries we need to overcome?

Truly, we need to consider this point seriously: just because we ourselves may not be able to bring horses to such genuine elastic suppleness under saddle – which would enable them to demonstrate pure gaits – should we therefore seek to degrade the time-honoured standards to fit our ineptitude, instead of striving to improving ourselves and our training approach?

Though, without a single doubt, the surest path to developing exquisite horsemanship lies in listening to the horse, a good human teacher is also initially indispensable to making reasonable progress. Through the teacher’s guidance, and riding well trained horses, we become better able to understand what the horse is trying to tell us, and to find ways of approach which the creature can understand and accept, whereby the commonly-known exercises are able to produce the useful gymnastic effects they are meant to have. On the other hand, dictatorial forms of riding use those same exercises as avenues to strip the horse of what is seen as ‘willful resistance’, but, actually, the latter is most often merely a sign of the horse revolting against what it senses as violations of its nature. The horse is seldom wrong.

An old maxim states, “Every journey begins with the first step”. Indeed, it is never too late to take that all-important first step in the right direction. If we aim our ideals towards harmonizing with natural principles, we will already be on the right path. Then, over the years, we can work joyfully toward perfecting our skills and drawing closer to our goal of finding ever deeper levels of compatibility with the horse.

Is there a place in the world where true horsemanship is practiced?

Needless to say, neither bricks and mortar nor location, in and of themselves, determine the presence or absence of horsemanship. Any place can be a good place, and any place can be an equestrian desert – and this can change to a greater or lesser degree at any time, either way. Only in that place, where and when an individual with the right heart towards the matter practices truth, by striving earnestly to interact kindly and lawfully with the horse – there horsemanship lives. Whether this is in a palatial riding hall, or somewhere in a field out in the middle of nowhere, or whether at a rudimentary or advanced level, is patently immaterial. 

A well-based assessment of a school’s ‘direction’ needs to be made over a period of years … even decades. The soundness of the philosophical base; the steadfastness of the leadership; the quality of the individuals attendant over such extended periods, together with the inevitable ups and downs in their lives; and the tenacity with which the equestrian ideals were sought and brought into living manifestation in daily practice, all need to be taken into account.

The larger picture of a school’s viability operates on the same principle as on the individual level: an occasional bit of good riding does not a good school make, nor should a bit of poor riding or some unusual incident elicit wholesale condemnation. It is the over-all ‘flavour’ and consistency that needs to be measured if a significant evaluation is to be made. It is that single-minded desire toward ‘nature-oriented’ work that needs to be carved out with unflagging effort, day-in day-out, over extended periods that ultimately makes the good horseman. It is this which similarly gives a worthwhile direction, that certain ‘stamp’, to a good school.

The most distinguished schools in which the spirit of classical horsemanship has been fostered over extended periods, and whose influences have reached even to our present day, are at Saumur, France; Reitinstitut von Neindorff, Germany; The Spanish Riding School, Austria; and not to be over looked, was the fine spirit of horsemanship demonstrated by the late Nuno Oliveira of Portugal. Further, there is likely a small sprinkling of horsemen and women, here and there, who in their own private facilities attempt to propagate honourable horsemanship in the classical tradition. But in riding, as in any field, the truly great – those who are Masters, in the truest sense of the word – are extremely rare. To quote Waldimar Seunig, in his book Horsemanship, “If we’re lucky there may be just one or two in any given century”.

In the spirit of cooperation.

There is an old German saying, “We all cook with water”. Indeed, regardless of our country of origin, in which equestrian discipline, or with which teacher we work, we must all come to grips with the fact that our ‘water’ is the horse. Metaphorically speaking, it freezes at 0ºC, and it boils at 100ºC…and we all need to come to grips with the laws under which that ‘water’ has its existence.

Each of the major traditional riding methods, inevitably ‘flavoured’ by the mentality and culture from which it originates, has some useful contribution to make to the over-all portrait of horsemanship, and we can mutually benefit from certain aspects of each others’ spices and cooking methods if we care to remain open. There may be some dishes we prefer, and others we aren’t so fond of, that doesn’t matter. As long as we always keep the horse’s archetypal nature as our guide – embracing all that is truly horse-friendly, and horse-harmonious in what ever equestrian discipline we may be partaking – we will not stray too far off course, while yet expanding our perspective and capacities, and hopefully end up making viable contributions to the world of horsemanship.

An essential part to success, however, is that we take the reins of responsibility into our own hands, each one of us, individually, and not rely on any external influence as a constant source of motivation, nor especially to keep us ‘in line’. Clearly, if we only set about improving ourselves when some external authority has to cajole or threaten us, I’m sure the reader would agree, we have some considerable way to go in our state of development. On the other hand, what an unspeakably wonderful world it would be if we each were to strive to master ourselves, willingly taking on individual responsibility for all of our thoughts, words, and actions – each carrying our own ‘column of air’, our own portion of the sky above our heads, so to speak – doing our part as well as we possibly can so that our world may be healed and become an ever more joyful and beautiful place to live.

A personal quest.

Since horsemanship is a tangible representation of our physical deftness and spiritual qualities, we could see the challenges of our daily riding, as our own personal Olympics, which gives us the opportunity to be ‘in the medals’ each day again through striving for self-improvement, and by choosing wisely and well as we make the numberless small decisions towards finding ever greater harmony with the horses, our fellow man, and our environment.

We who love the horse are indeed fortunate, since riding is a most delightful avenue through which we can hone ourselves towards that end – in fact, seen in that light, horsemanship itself becomes a living pledge towards that ideal.

In 1966 Robert F. Kennedy delivered a speech that included the words

There is a Chinese curse which says “May you live in interesting times.” Like it or not, we live in interesting times. They are times of danger and uncertainty; but they are also the most creative of any time in the history of mankind.

We are certainly living in interesting times.

2020 was the year that tested us all, and exposed the gaping rents of inequality in the fabric of our society. But it has also been a year of great good, of uplifting stories, of ordinary people stepping up and doing extraordinary things.

For me it was a year of transition, of endings, a shedding of old burdens. As the last stage of the divorce process, I sold my field, the Nelipot dream, the organic enriched paddock paradise track system.

I now have no significant assets, but most importantly no debts, and no ties. Having no assets is a freaky feeling, especially in the UK where we are so obsessed with property ownership as a measure of social standing.

2020 was meant to be Rocky’s year. Well it has certainly turned out to be his year, in that almost my entire focus has been on Rocky and his health. He was scoped for ulcers in March, brought slowly back into work over lockdown, and then had his back x-rayed in September. This led to his spinal desmotomy surgery, and 9 weeks of rehabilitation from the ground, before we could even contemplate getting back on.

I love hacking my horses in hand. Cal and I did loads of brisk walking around the lanes when he broke his carpal bone as a youngster. A handy tip for those of you who have never been on the rehab rollercoaster: when a vet says 10 minutes of controlled walking in hand, do it on the lanes. For some reason, 10minutes of walking a fresh horse in an arena always leads to acrobatics, if not aerobatics.

Take them out on the lanes, give them a destination and a sense of purpose and interesting stuff to look at, and they find their forwards much more easily and throw in a lot less upwards. A pocket full of treats and a village full of obsessive gardening locked down retirees will lead to a friendly curious and bomb proof horse. Rocky the Labra-dude and I have conquered lawn mowers and jet washers and leaf blowers, as well as the usual dogs and bin trucks, on our in hand walking adventures.

The field sale, my mishap and Rocky’s surgery all seemed to happen at the same time. There was obviously something malicious swirling around in the energetic universe. I thought I had a sore calf, until I twigged during a leg massage that it was actually hurt more like a blood clot in my leg. I had been treating it with ultrasound, and the Arc equine, as well as stretches and ibuprofen, The pain in my calf kept getting better for a few days then coming back again. And by the time I noticed something was wrong, it had led to clots on my lungs as well.

I’m fine. I twigged in time. But the first couple of weeks on blood thinners were no fun.

Interesting times indeed!