Hi Folks,

We recently spent time in Connemara in Ireland. It was fantastic and more about that anon. Whilst we were there, we went horse riding. That was fantastic too, but moreover, its rekindled our family love for all things horsey. Hence, welcome to the Equestrian Edition.

We were staying in Tully, Connemara and I was keen that we should try to get out on the wonderful Connemara ponies. Well, I was keen for the girls to get out on the ponies. I had other plans of a none equestrian and more Guinness based nature.

I had spoken to a local stables prior to arriving in Ireland, but for various reasons, that didn’t work out. However, we got a local recommendation for The Point Pony Trekking centre in nearby Ballyconneely.  This turned out to be a great little stables and became a daily destination for the girls.

The Point Pony Trekking

On the first visit, I had planned to see the girls off a on a trek, then head off to a local pub for a bit of light refreshments. Didn’t happen.  The proprietor, Sean, reckoned he had a hunter big enough for me, so the first ride became a family affair.  Before you start laughing, I was quite happy with this. I used to be quite the equestrian,  albeit 20 or so years ago when we were living in Aberdeenshire, Scotland.

Glen Tanner

Back then I stayed in Tarland  and used to keep horses at the Glen Taner Equestrian Centre. I had a wonderful Shire Thoroughbred cross called Grately Gattling Good Time Girl, or Time for short. She was a strapping 17.2 Hands and as bold as they came. I loved her.  She and I would ride out as often as possible, ranging over the beautiful Scottish highland scenery around Glen Taner.  Sadly, I don’t think I have any photographs  of her. I suspect they were lost in one of our many moves.

She was a real character and, I’m afraid to say, she was the boss in the relationship.  I was several kilo’s lighter back then, but was still a biggish bloke. Not that this was an issue for Time, but I did worry about her, lugging me around on her back.  She had a favourite numnah, the padded item that sits under the saddle. It was an old and rather tatty affair and I decided this should be updated.  As I was always fond of gimmicks, I decided to try one of the new gel numnah’s that were coming on the market, supposedly with all kinds of therapeutic benefits for the horse, as well as cushioning the saddle.

The Battle of Wills

When it arrived, I couldn’t wait to try it.  I went to the stable and started to tack Time up, ready for a good ride out. When it came to the numnah, Time’s ears pricked up as the new saddle pad was put on her back. I turned to get the saddle, conveniently placed on the stable door, only for Time to reach behind her and pull the new gel pad off with her teeth.  I put the saddle back, picked up the discarded numnah and put it back on her, turning to get the saddle. Once again, she reached behind her and using her teeth, dumped the new pad on the floor.

I wasn’t going to be outsmarted by a horse, so I picked up the numnah, put it back on her and keeping a hand on it I reached for the saddle.  In response, Time moved towards me pinning me to the stable door. Horses are big and heavy. I pushed and shoved and yelped as she trod on my foot, but she wasn’t for moving.  In desperation, I pulled off the new numnah and as I did, Time moved away. When I went to replace it, she moved towards me. I dropped the wretched thing and picked up her old tatty numnah. I could almost see her smirk as she snickered and was quite happy to let me finish tacking her up.  As I said, there was only one boss in that relationship and it wasn’t me.

Cross Country Trials (and Tribulations)

Despite this rather biased relationship, I did enjoy riding Time.  I was never a great rider, but what I lacked in skill, I made up for in over confidence.  None the less this could have drawbacks.

A friend of the Glen Tanner owner had a farm not far from where I stayed. As the stables was promoting Le Trek at the time, he put in an interesting cross country course around the farm and I couldn’t wait to try it.  The day arrived when Time was loaded up and transported to the cross country course.   She was as excited as I was and it showed. After tacking her up, I had a walk around the course. I’d walked it earlier in the week, but wanted to remind myself of what obstacles were where.  Time was getting frustrated she wanted to be off and at last, I mounted up and off we went.

Time the Bold

I said earlier that Time was very bold. What I mean by that is she would jump anything.  I on the other hand, was more cautious.  The course had three grades of jumps. Small novice jumps, medium intermediary jumps and huge great things for the more experienced riders.  I had decided to go for the intermediate jumps and see how I got on.  Time had other ideas.  She decided we were going over the biggest jumps and resisted all my attempts to steer her away from them.  I would have needed a step ladder to get over these things had I been walking.  When it became clear what was going to happen, I just held on for dear life. She cleared the first jump easily. Same at the next and the next. By now, I was actually starting  to enjoy myself and decided to try and ride again as opposed to being a captive passenger.

The Water Jump

As we came around the back straight I was as up for it as Time was and probably grinning like a loon. This part of the course ran parallel to a local road and I recall waving at a driver keeping pace as we galloped along.  I had given Time her head and she was flat out. Trouble was, I couldn’t  remember what was next, nor could I see anything.

And then I remembered.

Falling With Aplomb

Towards the end of the straight was a steep embankment, ending in a jump down into a stream and a jump out the other side. We were going way too fast for this.   As we reached the embankment, I stood in the stirrups and hauled on the reigns to slow Time. She didn’t like this. She managed to stop, but expressed her displeasure by throwing her head forward. This in turn saw me sail over her head. There was a wonderful moment when I was looking in her eyes and she back at me and you could see her thinking, “what you doing there you idiot”.  I would have replied but was too busy somersaulting into the stream, ending up on my arse in very cold water.  Did I mention, this was around late November.

Fortunately, only my pride was hurt.  I persuaded Time into the stream, climbed onto her and set off again, finishing the course with no more incidents, just a few queries asking had there been a sudden rain shower?

My Instructor used two say that you weren’t a proper rider until you had fallen off at least a handful of times and could do so with a certain style. Mission accomplished. I could fall off with aplomb and often did.  Mind you, it was a trait I shared with the family.

Saracen the Evil B’stard.

Wifey used to ride a horse called Saracen in lessons and she adored him. A 15.2 Hands warmblood, he was a beautiful horse and we considered buying him. His owner was a very experienced rider who was also a riding instructor at the Glen Tanner centre.  I confess I had my doubts. I once saw her riding Saracen across a field at full gallop. She didn’t look too happy and this feeling was reinforced by her yelling, “Stop you evil bas…d” as she flew by.

None the less, we discussed the purchase and agreed that Wifey would take Saracen out on a hack and if she still liked him, we would take him.  Didn’t go well.   It was New Years day, I believe. The weather had been dreadful meaning the horses had been cooped up for weeks in the stable. This was to be their first outing in a while and to put it mildly, they were a bit frisky.

Acrobatics

I was dragging up the rear on Time,  struggling to keep her back as the other 4 or 5 horses in the hack, including Saracen, were all up for racing off. It was cold and frosty with really hard ground. Eventually, a race developed and there was Saracen neck and neck with the ride leader.  From my rear viewpoint I could see the pathway narrowing as they approached a gate with a steep slope either side. As he couldn’t get in front, Saracen decided to go hill climbing before slamming on the brakes at the fence. This resulted in wifey flying over the fence and landing on the gravel path, using her face as a brake.  All credit to her for getting back on and having another go.

A few minutes later, a wildly excited Saracen deposited her on her head in another flurry of mad cantering.  I was very surprised when she got back on him a second time.  When a short while later he hurled her into a bush and took off, we decided enough was enough.  I dismounted, caught hold of Saracen and rode him home with Wifey on the more placid Time. It wasn’t fun as I had to fight the beast the whole of the way, bucking, rearing and generally being a complete pain.  With the right rider, I am sure Saracen would be a fantastic ride,  but he was far too much of a handful for us.

Toby The Exmoor

No.1 Daughter had an Exmoor Pony called Toby. A wonderful little horse, he was a Christmas present. I remember the look on Daughters face when we turned up at the stables Christmas Day to find Toby in a stable box, big red ribbon on the door and a sign with the legend. Merry Christmas. It was a picture.  Once again the weather was horrible so her first ride had to be delayed until later in the week.  But she groomed and stroked and hugged the little pony every day.

I had asked the stables to make sure before her first ride, Toby was let out for a few hours to run off his excess energy. Didn’t happen. So the maiden ride became a bit of an ordeal. She was in the school and got bucked off a handful of times. Each time she was persuaded to get back on, the last few times in floods of tears.  Sadly this did put her off her little pony. She still loved to groom him, but when asked to ride him, she was never keen. She would happily jump up on Time who dwarfed little Toby, but sadly Toby’s popularity never recovered.

An Unpleasant Fact

AS you probably realise, horses have a high fibre diet. This diet quietly digests and ferments in its stomach and does generate a fair amount of gas.  This gas has to come out, meaning horses fart. A lot.  This is an important fact to know, as when a horse lets rip, it deflates. When you tack up a horse, you tighten the girth; the strap on the saddle that goes under the horse. Once you are all tacked up and mounted, it’s always wise to check on the girth.  Why? Well as you plod along, your horse farting on every step, it deflates, making the girth more and more loose. If you don’t check it, there is a good chance you will fall off.  I know. I did.

One day, early in our relationship, Good Time Girl and I were barely out of the yard when she let rip. God she was noisy. With each successive stride, she continued to trumpet. As a bloke, I found this wildly hilarious, right up until I realised I was slowly but inextricably sliding with the saddle to the right. By the time I was at about a 45 degree tilt, I realised, belatedly,  I needed to check the girth. Raising my left leg in order to get at the buckle I only succeeded in throwing my self even more off balance. In short order, I was at right angles to her back and then on my head on the ground. Time walked on for a few paces then stopped. Looking around at me, I swear I saw her raise her eyes to heaven and grin.

Back to the Future

All of this happened a long time ago.  I hadn’t been in the saddle for more than 10 years, but I was excited to have a go and my steed for the day at the Point Trekking was Danny.  Smaller than Time, he was still a good size, but there is a lot more of me than there used to be, so I did feel sorry for the poor beast.

The weather was kind to us. It was a bit blustery, but dry and sunny. As we gently made our way across fields and down onto the beach, I began to remember what I used to love about riding.  The soft gentle motion off the horse, the musky smell, and feeling of being at one with nature on a beautiful animal. It’s a great way to enjoy the scenery too, something you can’t really do from a car.

On the Beach

On the beach, Sean suggested I  should have a canter.  Wifey and I pulled away from the group and headed off up the beach.  Neither Danny nor Wifeys mount were particularly keen to leave the rest of the ‘herd’ and needed some kicking on.  Eventually we got a good rising trot going, but after a few strides in canter, Danny had had enough and then we had run out of beach. Turning them round, we got a slightly more enthusiastic trot heading back to the other horses. I sensed Danny’s heart wasn’t in it and I do think I was a bit too big for him in reality.

We were only out for just over an hour. It was great fun. So much so, Wifey and small daughter went back every day after that. As for me, I decided to decline. Not only because I thought I was too big for the horses, but also because muscles I hadn’t used in years were bitterly complaining. I was very sore and stiff. I went shooting instead. Wifey rode Danny fore the rest of the week. She is a lot smaller than me and he was a lot more willing to canter for her.  I think that tells its own story.

Small the Star

Small daughter did remarkably well. At the outset, she had Sean leading her on her horse. By the end of our stay, she was cantering like a mad thing on Monty, a terrific and handsome little Connemara pony.  I sense more Equestrian Expense in the near future.

At least I hope so.  I do like horses. I like looking after them, I like riding them and I like being around them. They are intelligent and characterful creatures and often good fun.  Being out on Danny served to remind me how much I miss Good Time Girl. My riding days may be over, but I sense Small daughter and wifey will be riding a lot more in the future and you know what? I am really pleased and looking forward to it.

Graham Wannabe, 1st Nov 2019