BUCK OFF!!!
No, I’m not going to talk about how wonderful the weather is in Melbourne in autumn, how it’s my favourite time of the year, blah blah di blah blah.
When I’m talking Autumn Leaves, I’m talking about the resurgence of one of my least favourite nicknames. Yep, she’s back at it again. Just when I get my dressage mojo, woops, where did that jumping mojo go???
I’ve had a knack, which really is just good luck, of picking off-the-trackers who can jump. I’ve had 3 in a row.
For years everyone blamed my black horse Max, for me frequently biting the dust. But the simple fact is, I used to fall of his predecessor Ralph, just as much. In fact I hold the Barry Roycroft record for the most falls in one day of a clinic with Ralph. I can’t remember if it was 5 or 6 times.
My boyfriend, famous for scaring the wits out of half a dozen horses warming up for the dressage at Wandin one year by vigorously waving a dressage whip in the air to get my attention, knows very little about horses and decided the best support he could give me was buying me an air jacket. I think I was the first amateur rider to buy one in Australia. I’ve spent hundreds on gas canisters. The most memorable was the canister going off when I forgot I had the jacket on and dismounted at Tooradin at the end of the cross country. I had it fitted too tightly, could barely breathe, when Will Enzinger, my knight in shining armour, rushed to my aid and disrobed me. Gosh, he’s got the most beautiful blue eyes. If only I was 20 years younger. SIGH.
Anyway, I digress. I was having such a good run with my “keeper”, Paddy. And then came the Autumn Leaves syndrome again.
Many will remember the spectacular feat at Ballarat Horse trials last year where I fell off Max twice, and Paddy once. Paddy wasn’t used to this involuntary dismount caper and galloped for home. The bunting wasn’t going to stop him, and no, he didn’t jump it, he SLID UNDER IT. I’m still finding bits of mud under the saddle flap on one side.
I seemed to have found my stickability and was starting to get some good results again, like back in the good old days when I nearly always placed on Max. 2nd at Camperdown prelim, up to pre-novice with average dressage scores keeping me out of the placings.
Then some brilliant advice from Barry Roycroft. “Stop riding like most ‘girls’, and bloody canter your horse more. Improve his balance, improve his trot, improve his jump.”
And it all clicked for Heytesbury Horse Trials. A great dressage test; 7th even with an error of course. I took a photo of the scoreboard to prove I was the thorn amongst professional riders.
We were hot. Well, for 24 hours anyway. Then came the cross country, Paddy’s best phase. None of the fences fazed me, but overnight rain made me very nervous about the going. Just like driving a car, it’s that split second of indecision. Jump 5ab. A rail, a dip, another rail. Hesitation, bad line, awkward jump, horse still determined to clear the B element, a “whack” in the nose when face meets horse’s neck, and bang. Back on the ground, the horse looking at me as if to say, “I did all I could, took one for the team, AND YOU PIKED IT!”
I was momentarily reminded of the year before when Will (ole blue eyes) was riding Max. I was busily videoing him in the cross country, running over the horrendous ankle breaking pugging, when uncharacteristically, the horse left a leg and he fell.
I caught the horse, and said, “It’s okay, it’s my horse”.
Another woman came up and grabbed the reins, saying, “It’s okay it’s my horse”.
“No it’s not, it’s mine”, I said rather disparagingly. “No it’s not, it’s mine!”
As we fought over the reins like two small children with a plastic toy, a semi-conscious Will still lying on the ground, I realised the horse was indeed the same colour, but a good hand taller. “Oh my God, it’s not my horse!” Fight over.
So back to the future. Heytesbury this year, one bloody nose and split lip, it was back to the drawing board. Off to Ballarat, the home of Autumn Leaves. Another solid dressage result of 11th despite only having ridden the horse 3 times in 2 weeks due to moving house. A hot, tense, but good pony.
And then the show jumping. I have to admit, I just didn’t want to be there. I can’t jump where I agist my horse as the arena just can’t take it (especially with me falling off all the time!) and the paddocks are too wet. No jumping since my last fall. Paddy was hot to trot and even hotter to jump. I careered around definitely out of control, and you guessed it. We wore jump 7. One of those falls from well on high, into the poles. Dirty jodhpurs, dirty hat, grazed chin, and rather badly sprained thumb from hanging onto the reins, and I must admit, a relieved retirement and no cross country.
Then to the rescue, my second knight in shining armour, Sam Lyle, who comes to Melbourne about once a month for clinics. Within about 10 minutes of our first of two lessons, and the mojo is back! He offers to buy the horse, I say no, and we’re back on track. Still, I’m going to start the new season at Prelim, just to make sure that mojo is well and truly back, and here to stay.
"Oh look, 50 cents!”
