Bareback riding

I've had a few nice rides on Dee since my last posting, and 'ö-Dzin and I rode out together with Red and Dee on Sunday.  It is ages since we rode out just the two of us on our horses, and it was great to be doing it again.  Red wasn't too keen on taking the lead at the end of the lane and took a few minutes of persuasion, but after getting past that he was fine and we had a lovely ride.

'Napping' must be a British term I think.  It means when a horse stops and refuses to go forward.  When Dee naps she starts to back up if I try to urge her to walk on, and this can be quite dangerous.  Sometimes she will back right to the edge of a ditch or bank.  She used to rear but doesn't do that with me any more.

I showed up at Briwnant this morning expecting to ride out with Nicky, but unfortunately she couldn't make it today.  All this week I've been painting the lounge in our home and I realised that I was physically really tired.  So I took Dee into the arena to play games.  We did some following me around, and circles stepping through with the hind leg, back up, and such like groundwork exercises.  I then decided that it might be nice to jump on her back after all, but didn't really want to fuss with lots of tack.  I just put on her bridle and got on her easily from the mounting block.

We did 20 minutes or so of patterns in the arena at walk and trot.  At first I felt really insecure – it is the first time I have ridden bareback since June 2008.  I know that because I blogged about it!  I soon started to feel more relaxed and confident and began doing a little trotting.  I was trying to engage in meditative riding – feeling the direction I wanted to move in from my navel, keeping myself centred, and trying to communicate through to Dee.  She is more receptive to this on one rein than on the other.  It is inspiring to ride with very little tack and simply endeavour to focus a connection through energy, intention and balance.  One day I will attempt this with just a neck rope.

In 2008 I had discovered that dismounting was a problem for my damaged knee – it cannot cope with the impact of me jumping down. Usually I slide off the saddle so there is no real jump down.  However in the arena I was able to dismount at the block so that there was no great distance for my descent, so that solved that problem.

I think Dee enjoyed being in the arena for a change.  She is quite relaxed and happy in there.  At Wyndham she was always tense and spooky in the arena, but at Briwnant she is chilled about everything.

Today's ride may not have contributed a great deal to the get-Dee-fit campaign, but it it was a good confidence boost with regard to my balance, and a good bonding experience for our relationship.

I think the inquisitive mare in the photograph is called Molly – one of Dee's Briwnant chums.

Richard bareback riding

Richard and I went up to Briwnant to ride this afternoon.  I always tend to forget that the riding centre is closed on a Tuesday.  Of course this does not prevent me from riding my horses, but it can mean the tack room is locked.  The only piece of my tack that lives at Briwnant that I would need to use is Red's saddle, so we had settled ourselves to simply ride in the arena, with Richard riding Red bareback.

Dee was near the gate and happy to come straight in.  Red was quite a long way down the field so I gave Richard a leg-up and he rode Red to the yard.  I was proud of Richard because he had to really ride as Red was not being wholly cooperative.

Fortunately someone from Briwnant turned up with a tackroom key, so we were able to ride out fully equipped.  We went the short ride up to the top field and back that I took Red last week.  I felt it was far enough and challenging enough for Dee.  She was certainly up for it however and when we started to trot up the last incline at the top field, she immediately went into a canter.  It is great to see her sound and enjoying being out on a ride.

I'm hoping eventually to be able to do this ride on Dee on her own.  She has always been happy to ride on her own across fields.  It is the track from the yard that starts the napping.  Perhaps I'll try the ride in the opposite direction so that we start in a field.  I could mount Dee from the gate.  It is exciting to think that there might be a little ride we can enjoy together.  I'm hoping to take Dee out for another short ride this week before the fun ride on Saturday afternoon.  I'm starting to feel confident that she will be fine for a two hour ride and even a few small jumps.

Bareback riding

Yesterday I decided to ride Dee down to her field to turn her out, rather than lead her down. I used to ride bareback quite a lot at one time, and feel it is an excellent way of improving one's seat, and also a method of creating a closer sense of connection with the horse. However I had not ridden bareback for nearly a year - certainly not since I injured my knee last October, so I was a bit trepidacious.

When I started riding again about six years ago - after a gap of approximately twenty five years - I went to a riding school and had lessons. These were practically the first lessons I had ever received. I learned to ride when I was about eleven at a riding stables near Solihull Lodge, just outside Birmingham. I doubt such an establishment would be able to exist today, as being taught to ride consisted of being put on a horse in a training ring and just going round and round at different paces until it seemed that you were staying on okay and managing to post at the trot. The girl who was in charge of teaching had been taught to ride by gypsies. Her lessons included bareback riding, where we were told to lean right back, almost lying on the horse, to find our balance.

Although I appreciate that such methods of teaching are insufficient to aspire to disciplines such as dressage, or to become a proficient show jumper, they did imbue me with an instinctive sense of riding. My riding may have been crude (and probably still is), but I was relaxed and confident, and capable of riding even the most difficult horses at the stables - and in fact used to prefer one spirited pony that most of my group would not ride. After only a few weeks of these basic lessons I was going out on hacks. After a further period of time, I was leading groups out on hacks. At a weekend we would regularly hire out several of the horses for a few hours and would be able to just take them off on our own. I'm sure such freedom of access to riding stable mounts would not be possible these days.

Despite my lack of formal training I must have acquired something of a reputation as a capable rider, as I always had access to a horse that the owner needed exercising. I enjoyed the freedom of in effect having my own horse throughout my late teens without actually ever being able to own one, as this was beyond my parents' means. One horse I cared for - a six year old called Whiskey - was known as a 'horse-without-brakes', but I used to ride out on him for whole days, often alone, without any problems. Another horse I exercised for a lady had the most uncomfortable saddle it has ever been my misfortune to sit upon, so I used to hack him out bareback. I used to come off fairly regularly, but still had fun.

So it was with pleasure that I climbed on Dee's bare back to ride her down to her field. I put the training pressure halter on and looped the lead rope round to make a rein just in case she decided this was a great opportunity to race to the field. But no, she was quite happy and relaxed and we quietly plodded down the lane.

Half way down the track it occurred to me that I would have to get off! I have had to adjust how I dismount since injuring my knee. I can no longer vault off athletically as I used to, but have to slide off slowly in order to ensure that I touch the ground with as little impact as possible. This controlled slide was not going to be possible to achieve without a saddle and a stirrup to assist my descent! It brought an aspect of my Buddhist training clearly to mind - a reminder that our consciousness is mounted on our current physical form and that one day we shall all have to face the experience of dismounting from it. We may try not to think about our mortality but our death is actually the only thing in our life we can totally rely upon occurring. As a Buddhist I try to notice the 'little deaths' that continually happen - the death of the moment, of an occupation, of a state of definition. The Nor'dzin who was writing this before you actually came to read it has now died - she is gone, gone, gone forever. The you that just read that sentence is also gone.

So I was grateful for this potent reminder that I had created for myself by getting on Dee's back. I smiled at the inevitability of the situation, and when we arrived at her field I slid down as carefully as I could. I still landed more heavily and from a greater distance than usual, so the walk back to the stable was a bit of a hobble, but I am still glad for the experience and my knee had recovered by the time we were ready to go home.