Once in a while riding is a pleasure, not just another chance to work on this or that technique, which is boring and often does not succeed.
Saturday I took Champagne out on the trails all by myself (which I admit can be hazardous, but I took my cell phone) and it was really fun.
I only met one other person, a mountain biker who came up behind us, shouted ahead to me, and asked if he should walk his bike as he passed us. I accepted and moved Champagne off the trail. After the guy passed, Champagne was like, “Can we go with him? Can we catch up?” He was calm and steady, and not at all afraid.
The day was coolish with bright sunshine. A nice little breeze was ruffling the leaves, and some trees were showering yellow leaflets. Champagne came home with a leaf stuck under his saddle blanket! The woods have already begun opening up: the low underbrush and ferns have sunk toward the earth, and I could see further into the clearings. Champagne alerted a few times, but I never saw deer.
He went willingly up the pipeline hill that he always pretends he can’t climb, and even trotted near the top. No spooking, and very polite, responsive behavior.
The trail back to the barn climbs and dips through tall white pines, and the footing is sand and pine needles, pleasant and aromatic.
I admit I did practice a bit of the “rubber donut elbow” thing that I’ve been learning in the arena . . . keeping the reins shorter and my arms at my sides, but using a flexible elbow to follow the movement of his head as he walks. This can only be done if the horse is stepping right along, but he was, so I did. Another notch in my ridership, I guess.
Anyway, a stress-free ride. I am back in love with my fine fellow.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Horse chiropractic
Don’t mark me down as a believer. I just can’t imagine how a gentle tap here and there from a spring-loaded “activator” can readjust muscles and bones. They are, after all, fairly substantial (especially in horses) and I should think that it would take some pretty hefty forces to get them into alignment, assuming they are not aligned properly to begin with.
Well, Champagne has a crookedness issue that seems to be getting worse. He’ll canter left (he did it for me Tuesday!) but not right, and even when walking straight he curves to the left. Cath, my instructor, rode him on trails the week we were gone and said she heard his back clicking. She heard it again during the lesson last night (although I didn’t, but then I’m a little deaf).
So I have agreed to have him have a series of treatments to see if he can be straightened out at all. I am very skeptical, but on the other hand if there is a chance he can be prevented from becoming lame and need stall rest for weeks it seems worth a try.
But on the other hand (?three hands?) if he only wants to canter left, is that an issue? In Wyoming I asked which lead to ask for on loping and the wrangler said the horses pretty much pick their own, whatever they prefer, and most of them do have a preference. Those hard-working ponies get the job done without a fuss and lead options don’t seem to be a consideration.
I am so getting Champagne a western saddle for the trails, and if the chiropractic doesn’t work, he’ll get to not canter right, I guess.
Well, Champagne has a crookedness issue that seems to be getting worse. He’ll canter left (he did it for me Tuesday!) but not right, and even when walking straight he curves to the left. Cath, my instructor, rode him on trails the week we were gone and said she heard his back clicking. She heard it again during the lesson last night (although I didn’t, but then I’m a little deaf).
So I have agreed to have him have a series of treatments to see if he can be straightened out at all. I am very skeptical, but on the other hand if there is a chance he can be prevented from becoming lame and need stall rest for weeks it seems worth a try.
But on the other hand (?three hands?) if he only wants to canter left, is that an issue? In Wyoming I asked which lead to ask for on loping and the wrangler said the horses pretty much pick their own, whatever they prefer, and most of them do have a preference. Those hard-working ponies get the job done without a fuss and lead options don’t seem to be a consideration.
I am so getting Champagne a western saddle for the trails, and if the chiropractic doesn’t work, he’ll get to not canter right, I guess.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Readjustment
I never knew my dressage saddle was so light! Compared to a western saddle it is nothing at all.
I never knew how much less protection my dressage saddle gives than a western saddle. It always seemed so much more cushy than a plain forward seat English saddle.
I never knew how little Champagne has a swinging back, at least compared to the rolling gait of the little roan quarter horse I rode at the dude ranch.
I knew Champagne’s trot was easy to sit, but I never realized just how easy until riding him yesterday.
After the little roan, Champagne seems like a big horse, and very sturdily built. When I first saw the roan I thought he had a ewe neck. I guess he didn’t, but compared to Champagne his neck seemed skinny and flat.
I had to let my stirrup leathers out a notch yesterday in order to feel that they were long enough, and even then I think another notch might be in order.
Champagne’s natural lack of forwardness at the walk is a very good match for the trail pace of the western horses, but he’s a wuss compared to them. The steep rocky ups and downs and bouldery stream crossings would have him in a heap, and he’d have to wear shoes for sure. If I could have him in the Wyoming landscape for a month or two, though, his strength would build up a lot.
I’m glad to be back with him, but I’m thinking of getting a western saddle for the trails. The barn has a couple I can try this weekend!
I never knew how much less protection my dressage saddle gives than a western saddle. It always seemed so much more cushy than a plain forward seat English saddle.
I never knew how little Champagne has a swinging back, at least compared to the rolling gait of the little roan quarter horse I rode at the dude ranch.
I knew Champagne’s trot was easy to sit, but I never realized just how easy until riding him yesterday.
After the little roan, Champagne seems like a big horse, and very sturdily built. When I first saw the roan I thought he had a ewe neck. I guess he didn’t, but compared to Champagne his neck seemed skinny and flat.
I had to let my stirrup leathers out a notch yesterday in order to feel that they were long enough, and even then I think another notch might be in order.
Champagne’s natural lack of forwardness at the walk is a very good match for the trail pace of the western horses, but he’s a wuss compared to them. The steep rocky ups and downs and bouldery stream crossings would have him in a heap, and he’d have to wear shoes for sure. If I could have him in the Wyoming landscape for a month or two, though, his strength would build up a lot.
I’m glad to be back with him, but I’m thinking of getting a western saddle for the trails. The barn has a couple I can try this weekend!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Real fantasy
It still doesn’t seem as if it could possibly have happened. Can you imagine having a secret wish/hope/fantasy for absolutely as long as you can remember (at least since age three or four) that has been percolating along inside you all these years, and suddenly having it become real, full-blown?
Because over the years you grow up and cool down and get mature, and you understand that the wishes and dreams of childhood are just that: dreams. No substance. Never happen. So you kind of wall them off and tell yourself that they were just childish thoughts anyway, and you even wall off the sadness that comes with letting the dreams slip away. And you are OK. Really. Functioning well, getting pleasure out of life, having moments and even days of richness, and all in all things are working in your life.
But some part of you never forgets that old deep longing, and the pining wish is like a little red ember under the ashes. You don’t see it there when you look, but the heat can still start a fire if the conditions are right.
So that’s what happened to me this past week in Wyoming. There is no way to put into words what it feels like to have that hidden hope be kindled into joy so suddenly. My fantasy became real in every detail. At the ranch it was as if we dropped out of time entirely, and spent weeks of wonder together in the space of a few days. If you’re wondering where, this is it: http://www.paradiseranch.com
They give you your own horse for the week so you can build a relationship with it (my carrot blandishments went quite far toward creating rapport) and each of the three of us was assigned a horse with a personality that fit us well. You can pick from morning, afternoon, or all-day rides, and try team cow penning and barrel racing if you have a mind to. The land is beyond gorgeous, and though we rode on every available ride all week we never went to the same place twice. You can pick from all walk, walk/trot, or walk/trot/lope rides, and there are even “extreme lope” rides for the very adventurous.
Canyons fragrant with the spice of lodge pole pines; high, golden mountain meadows; huge jagged volcanic outcroppings of gneiss; clear rushing streams sleeked with trout; and always behind everything the backdrop of high blue mountains bearing white glaciers . . . and me and my little roan horse Red Rover, Ken and his paint Buster, and Lorian with her chestnut Jackson, all in a landscape that could hold the world: perfection.
I’m still aglow. How can something so completely otherworldly feel like coming home?
Because over the years you grow up and cool down and get mature, and you understand that the wishes and dreams of childhood are just that: dreams. No substance. Never happen. So you kind of wall them off and tell yourself that they were just childish thoughts anyway, and you even wall off the sadness that comes with letting the dreams slip away. And you are OK. Really. Functioning well, getting pleasure out of life, having moments and even days of richness, and all in all things are working in your life.
But some part of you never forgets that old deep longing, and the pining wish is like a little red ember under the ashes. You don’t see it there when you look, but the heat can still start a fire if the conditions are right.
So that’s what happened to me this past week in Wyoming. There is no way to put into words what it feels like to have that hidden hope be kindled into joy so suddenly. My fantasy became real in every detail. At the ranch it was as if we dropped out of time entirely, and spent weeks of wonder together in the space of a few days. If you’re wondering where, this is it: http://www.paradiseranch.com
They give you your own horse for the week so you can build a relationship with it (my carrot blandishments went quite far toward creating rapport) and each of the three of us was assigned a horse with a personality that fit us well. You can pick from morning, afternoon, or all-day rides, and try team cow penning and barrel racing if you have a mind to. The land is beyond gorgeous, and though we rode on every available ride all week we never went to the same place twice. You can pick from all walk, walk/trot, or walk/trot/lope rides, and there are even “extreme lope” rides for the very adventurous.
Canyons fragrant with the spice of lodge pole pines; high, golden mountain meadows; huge jagged volcanic outcroppings of gneiss; clear rushing streams sleeked with trout; and always behind everything the backdrop of high blue mountains bearing white glaciers . . . and me and my little roan horse Red Rover, Ken and his paint Buster, and Lorian with her chestnut Jackson, all in a landscape that could hold the world: perfection.
I’m still aglow. How can something so completely otherworldly feel like coming home?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Balancing act
Riding is all a matter of balance, they say.
This is true in more ways that you might think.
For example, riding and attendant horse care is time consuming. There is: getting to the barn (unless you have a backyard horse, something I would love to try!), then grooming and tacking up, riding for an hour or so, after-ride care for the horse and the tack, and then the drive home. So figure two hours minimum, but more like three many days. So life has to be planned so that the additional time each day can be balanced with work, household chores, and family. And probably some sleep.
While my dad was alive, the timing of visits in the nursing home was such that riding could usually not be scheduled the same day. I still find myself having uncomfortable twinges as I am leaving the barn as to whether I am in a clean enough state to visit my dad, and whether he will be eating or asleep, until I remember that he’s not there anymore.
Then there is fiscal balance. Keeping a horse is expensive: board, vet bills, new tack from time to time, farrier, lessons, and maybe a need for specialized services such as adjustments to his spine for crookedness, and (for our household) that has to be balanced with the very expensive hobby of flying. Luckily our house is paid off, but the annual property taxes are higher than our annual mortgage payments used to be!
There is the physical balance of riding. I am working to get better at that by riding with no stirrups at the walk and trot as a cool-down after the schooling part of the ride is over. I like it a lot, but I’m not so sure I would like cantering without them.
Finally there is the mental balance. Champagne’s careening gallop thing last week has made me a little tentative about asking for another canter, at least without Cath around in case he takes off again. There is no reason he should, but I think my lack of confidence may have had something to do with why I couldn’t get him to canter left (his left preferred, slower, more reluctant side) yesterday. I didn’t try canter right, which is the side he has been known to bolt on. And I am mindful that I especially don’t want to get hurt right before vacation.
Am I keeping being in balance in balance?
This is true in more ways that you might think.
For example, riding and attendant horse care is time consuming. There is: getting to the barn (unless you have a backyard horse, something I would love to try!), then grooming and tacking up, riding for an hour or so, after-ride care for the horse and the tack, and then the drive home. So figure two hours minimum, but more like three many days. So life has to be planned so that the additional time each day can be balanced with work, household chores, and family. And probably some sleep.
While my dad was alive, the timing of visits in the nursing home was such that riding could usually not be scheduled the same day. I still find myself having uncomfortable twinges as I am leaving the barn as to whether I am in a clean enough state to visit my dad, and whether he will be eating or asleep, until I remember that he’s not there anymore.
Then there is fiscal balance. Keeping a horse is expensive: board, vet bills, new tack from time to time, farrier, lessons, and maybe a need for specialized services such as adjustments to his spine for crookedness, and (for our household) that has to be balanced with the very expensive hobby of flying. Luckily our house is paid off, but the annual property taxes are higher than our annual mortgage payments used to be!
There is the physical balance of riding. I am working to get better at that by riding with no stirrups at the walk and trot as a cool-down after the schooling part of the ride is over. I like it a lot, but I’m not so sure I would like cantering without them.
Finally there is the mental balance. Champagne’s careening gallop thing last week has made me a little tentative about asking for another canter, at least without Cath around in case he takes off again. There is no reason he should, but I think my lack of confidence may have had something to do with why I couldn’t get him to canter left (his left preferred, slower, more reluctant side) yesterday. I didn’t try canter right, which is the side he has been known to bolt on. And I am mindful that I especially don’t want to get hurt right before vacation.
Am I keeping being in balance in balance?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Mrs. K's Wild Ride
Champagne went on a spree last night.
I was working with Cath, my instructor, on getting him more forward and energetic. I am transitioning to spurs, which Champagne really does not like. Of course I never jab him in the sides with them, but sometimes I do poke him in an oblique way. It does wonders for his responsiveness. I get really good leg yields and turns on the forehand, and his basic walking and trotting cadence is much improved.
Cantering is still kind of an issue, especially cantering left. I had never cantered him wearing spurs, but last night I did. Cath had me get him to trot so fast that he might naturally have to fall into a canter, even if that meant he’d be on his forehand. I got him going right really fast, but he never did spontaneously canter, so she said to ask for a one.
I did, and suddenly things were completely out of control. He broke into a gallop and became unsteerable. I was riding with really long reins so be extra sure I didn’t pull on his mouth in the half halt, and his move into the gallop was explosive. Luckily I grabbed the grab strap strategically located at the front of the saddle, and held on with both hands. I also had the reins, but was afraid to shorten them because I needed my grip on the strap.
At first he was all over the arena, but I managed to do a bit of steering with the inside rein, trying to spiral him in, working toward such a small circle that he wouldn’t be able to sustain the gallop, but that only caused him to slip a bit on the sand, not to slow.
Okay, I’m on a speeding horse and completely out of control. My main thing was not to fall off (shades of ryanlion!), and my second thing was to try to regain control.
Slowly I got my outside rein shortened a little, and that improved steerability somewhat, although at times we were charging straight for the fence, only to veer off at the last minute (thank goodness he isn’t a jumper!). Then I got the inside rein shorter too, and began pulling, which had little effect. I was still too off balance to let go of the grab strap, so that limited the effectiveness of pulling.
After more than two minutes of wild ride, he did slow to a trot, but as I tried to steer him he took off again. This time I had a better grip on the reins, and after about another minute he slowed to a fast trot again. Cath said to slow to a walk immediately (usually after a canter we slow to a working trot before walking), and as I got the speed down she grabbed the reins and we stopped. Yikes.
So I had close to four minutes of major speed, and Champagne was snorting and blowing and acting like he would just as soon take off again. Cath said later that because of my off-balance position I was goading him on with my spurs at every stride. Oh my. Not like he has never bolted before (without spurs) but this one was major.
Cath hopped on and rode him the other way in canter, and made sure he was listening and responsive before Ken had his lesson . . . and Ken had a part longe lesson to be safe.
Today I have mild soreness in my shoulders and back, although I went to the gym yesterday and that’s probably a contributing factor. I’ll probably ride today, but no spurs. No getting hurt, especially right before vacation!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Cuddlier
I think I’m winning the love puddle contest with Champagne.
My boy is becoming a lot more demonstrative and interactive. Saturday I had all sorts of non-riders and semi-riders up on his back for pony rides, and some of them couldn’t get him to trot. However they did get a trotting ride after I started standing in front of him, telling him “come-come-come” (which I use to get him to move along after me), and then experimented with running. Sure enough he stepped right into a nice trot right behind me, sometimes with his nose pressed against my back as I ran.
He also has begun asking to be scratched or rubbed in specific places. Yesterday he wanted his eye gently rubbed. Often when I’m brushing his neck he cranes his neck way up, opens his lips in a quiver of delight, and then brings his head down to hug my shoulder. I guess he has bites that are itchy and he enjoys being scratched.
He comes to the stall door when I come to the barn . . . well not right away sometimes, but by the time I am done schlepping all the tack and grooming stuff to the cross ties, he is at the stall door, expecting to get his halter, and putting his nose out obligingly. He endearingly lowers his head for me to put the fly net on easily.
Yesterday he even nickered at me, something he rarely does. Maybe he knows I need special handling right now, or maybe since I’ve been his mom for more than a year, and I am a source of good things like hand grazing and carrots and mints and rubs, he’s decided I’m worth paying attention to. Or maybe I’m just teaching him things that I like and he is learning like a good pupil. Whatever, it’s fun.
My boy is becoming a lot more demonstrative and interactive. Saturday I had all sorts of non-riders and semi-riders up on his back for pony rides, and some of them couldn’t get him to trot. However they did get a trotting ride after I started standing in front of him, telling him “come-come-come” (which I use to get him to move along after me), and then experimented with running. Sure enough he stepped right into a nice trot right behind me, sometimes with his nose pressed against my back as I ran.
He also has begun asking to be scratched or rubbed in specific places. Yesterday he wanted his eye gently rubbed. Often when I’m brushing his neck he cranes his neck way up, opens his lips in a quiver of delight, and then brings his head down to hug my shoulder. I guess he has bites that are itchy and he enjoys being scratched.
He comes to the stall door when I come to the barn . . . well not right away sometimes, but by the time I am done schlepping all the tack and grooming stuff to the cross ties, he is at the stall door, expecting to get his halter, and putting his nose out obligingly. He endearingly lowers his head for me to put the fly net on easily.
Yesterday he even nickered at me, something he rarely does. Maybe he knows I need special handling right now, or maybe since I’ve been his mom for more than a year, and I am a source of good things like hand grazing and carrots and mints and rubs, he’s decided I’m worth paying attention to. Or maybe I’m just teaching him things that I like and he is learning like a good pupil. Whatever, it’s fun.
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