Lulu - the youngest member of future team of four
I was fortunate enough to spend the last two months of 2015 with my best friend backpacking around America.
During the first month we lived in a 'Jucy Van'. These cars are 'soccer mum cars'; converting the back seats into a fold down bed and the boot into a mini kitchen - quite literally a mini motor home on wheels.
It was during this time in our travels, when we were far away from home and particular western comforts when my thoughts, feelings and values seeped back into my heart as I reflected on life back home.
I saw the most incredible sights and they whole-heartedly enriched my perspective on many things. My favourite, and indeed most significant, was the Angels Landing hike in Zion (pronounced like lion) National Park. To briefly sum it up, the top third of the hike you climb up the tip of the mountain with around 1 metre between you and a 1400ft drop either side. A metal chain bolted into the rock to hold on to was the only thing to guide you in the right direction. No harnesses, no helmets. Just your runners, day pack and wits; for a girl scared of heights, it was certainly a difficult task.
Difficult it may have been but it was none the less riveting. With my legs filling up like lead and my heart pounding up through my throat, I had to keep my head on tight and concentrate on the steps ahead of me (not dissimilar to the start box of a cross country course!) On reaching the top platform, pictured below, you were completely immersed with the sheer beauty, power and resilience that is Mother Nature.
This valley took over 65 million years to develop into what we see today. The top of the crater used to be the flat bottom of the ocean. Once the ocean had dried up, the salty sand (sand stone) was worn away little by little by a small stream of fresh water. The continual, soft flow of this water created what we see today. It was just magnificent.
Being immersed in natural landscapes completely relaxes me. I am, indeed, very much an outdoorsy person. When I'm stressed, my favourite pastime is to wander along my local beach and breathe in the salty air, especially during winter when the air is crisp. Out here, at Angels Landing, there was no stress. Once we had climbed up to that platform, everything just seemed so effortless.
After countless encounters such as this a strong message sunk into my heart. Over the years I had lost my guts. I haven't literally lost my guts, of course, but my grit, determination and I guess ignorance to potential hazards and dangers had withered away the less I practised it. This has sunk into my everyday life especially into my passions, such as horse riding.
Many most likely remember zooming around on an pony as a child oblivious to the dangers that may occur as you darted between trees, jumped fallen logs and anything that slightly resembled a cross-country jump. I certainly did those things, and spent many of my days doing so because I didn't like or understand dressage when I was younger. This 'fearless' riding gave me my grit. As I've grown older and practised the more educated and thoughtful side of riding, I've lost that. I no longer just get on, kick and let the horse figure the rest out. I calculate, I examine, I walk strides and decide angles, look at the footing and try to match my ride to my horse. But am I matching the ride to my horse? Or am I moulding my horse to my calculated thinking?
I had a wonderful off the track thoroughbred from the age of 12. He was stubborn, arrogant and quite frankly didn't like many people other than myself. Mum even made a comment that the now retired gelding wouldn't acknowledge anyone while I was away. When I returned and went to visit the retired boys out the back, he meandered towards me with the attitude that he had to, but we both know we quite like each other's company. He may not have been many people’s favourite horse, but he taught me bravery, resilience and kept that cross-country fire burning bright up until his retirement.
I need to remember his way of teaching. He was well trained and polite, had an incredible work ethic, impeccable ground manners and quite clever on the flat. But he also trained me very well! He instilled in me to not over control. If I did, he wouldn't jump. He taught me to help him warm up and set up his canter, tell him where he's going but then allow the rest up to him. This way of thinking he forced into our cross-country riding made him, and I guess me, cross-country machines. Since retiring my thoroughbreds and starting my new young horses, I've lost that. I've become too cautious. I do need to be aware and educated with my horses as I've learnt many things and continue to do so which I find invaluable but I need my guts back.
Wyuna First Sun (Jasper) 4yo
It's about getting back out there and just doing it. Worry less about the meticulous training, and more about giving your horse that good old pony club experience. Canter, point and shoot. I'm not entirely sure if every horse in my new team will make it past 1*, but frankly I don't mind. I love my horses, they each have a personality of their own and, with mum having bred them, means they've known me and I've known them their entire lives. It creates quite a beautiful bond.
No matter what level they reach, it is a major goal of mine to make them jumping machines. Others may not see it, but I believe they're all special in their own way. Their potential is underneath there, be it 1* potential or they pleasantly surprise us all and fulfil the seven year old girl’s dream of Olympic gold. Whether they're at introductory this season or Badminton in 10 years time, we need our guts. And we need to practise my guts!
If they are jumping well at a certain height at home, push your comfort zone and put it up one more hole. Google new gymnastic exercises, experiment more. Just don't get complacent. It's an exciting journey ahead for me and these horses. The youngest of the future team of four horses is 3 months old and the oldest is 5 years old so we have many years ahead of ourselves to practise our guts.
