Wish I was back in the saddle again
I used to ride. I used to love it. I really want to ride again.
During these school holidays we have had a whole posse of different horses riding past our house. We are surrounded by acreages here, and the local Pony Club is just down the road.
I used to ride 3 or 4 times a week at a riding school. I was going to buy my own horse, had even picked a young 3 yr old gelding from an Arabian stud in the hills of Perth. I had organised where he was going to be agisted. But I bought a car instead.
Considering the price of fuel, I should have stuck with the horse.
Over the weekend I uncovered my battered old leather riding gloves. I put them on, and that’s just made the whole “I want to ride again” thing worse.
I attended a French owned riding school for years. I had a German instructoress named Marion. Even the horses were scared of her, but man did she know her stuff! The whole methodology of this school was very European in nature, with failure not an option. You learned to ride, and ride well.
Here is Marion on one of her Hanoverian Stud stallions. I think I saw her with her hair down once, at a Christmas party. Last I heard of her, she was receiving obscene amounts of money for a single stallion service.
We were lucky at the school, we had a covered indoor dressage areana with mirrors (very helpful), and several grey sand yards outside. If you rode in summer outside, you would have nostrils full of black stuff for the rest of the day.
Here is Chia, the Anglo Arab I used to ride. She was only a small horse, 15.5hh, but she could go like the wind when she put her head down.
I used to ride at night a lot. Once the lesson was over, the school horses were so frisky, you could hardly hold them back from their night paddock. Chia was a spoilt horse and I returned her to a cosy stall, brushed her down, put on her blankets & hood and gave her some sweet smelling hay.
Here is an old gentleman named Bonsoir. He was 30 yrs old in this picture, but he still played like a young colt. He was the consumate schoolie. When he was retired from group lessons, he really fretted. So they put him back in the lessons, but without a rider. He would complete every manoeuvre perfectly, such was his training.
He still loved to jump, but only little ones. I disliked jumps, so the little ones were fine by me!
And the reason I got into riding in the first place? I loved horses, as almost every little girl did. I drew them at every opportunity I got. Last night I found an old yellowed sketch from high school, shoved in with some school yearbooks.
I was eventually banned from drawing horses by the art teacher. I think everyone was well and truly sick of them.
So now I’m sitting here wistfully, thinking about jodphurs, boots, and that sweaty horse smell that was truly divine to me!
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a belated happy new year to you, my friend! e.
I have never learnt to ride and don’t think I ever will as I am kind of scared of horses and yes I know how silly that sounds but still how I feel. I do love to look at horses and see them parade and I think they are beautiful animals. I have been on a horse once when I was a child.
Aaah yes, young girls and their horses They grow up into old girls and their horses and memories. Have you visited Elizabeth/Shadow over at blog spot recently? http://lizziesinsomnia.blogspot.com/ She’s got a lovely post about being back in the saddle again and growing old disgracefully.
I never got into the “proper” stuff (dressage and real live instructors) but I did love riding and still get the chance occasionally. I’m lucky to have friends with a Bed & Breakfast on a few acres just out of town, backing onto a bush reserve. They have a couple of very under-ridden horses and every now and then I summon the energy to go out there and have a bash. My friend rides the very naughty little Joshie while I get the ex-racehorse, Adley, (her hubbie usually rides him). We head out into the reserve, through bush with the odd dingo and around lagoons full of water birds. I swear that Adley thinks he has a jockey on his back and can hear the screaming crowds as we go hell for leather along the bush tracks.
There’s no finesse, but a hell of a lot of fun. I always look upon my horeswomanship as being successful if I don’t fall off, and fairly successful if I do fall off and don’t land on my head! I looked after their place for a month or so a while back though, and the reality is horses are VERY high maintenance. Like kids, it’s nice to be able to give ‘em back at the end of the day!
Jo-Anne, yes they can be very scary.
I was thrown off a very naughty half wild horse at my sister’s house. He bucked me that high I thought I was going to break something on the boulder strewn ground below. Luckily, it was just my pride. That was the only time I did not ‘get back on the horse” again.
That’ the only thing that concerns me if I take riding up again - the injuries. I’m slow to recover from anything now, especially with my fine joint problems.
Isn’t getting older a bummer!
Cheers
Cindy
Hey Tazar,
As an older rider, I was often given the “difficult” schoolies to ride (before Chia was loaned to me for lessons). A lot of the girls had ex-pacers (given away), who could not turn left. Loathed it. Did anything they could not to. And coming off that high energy feed at the pacing stables did nothing to settle them down in the beginning.
I was a lather of sweat at the end of a lesson. I grew muscles on everything.
Yes I have visited Elizabeth, and left huge rambling posts there (her link is on my blogroll). She is one of the main reasons I have this yearning now I reckon!
You got any pony pics?
Cheers
Cindy
You know Cindy, I don’t think I have a single horsey photo, very remiss. Just lots of tales/memories. Like that time I hired a horse in Paraguay (they let me go off on my own!), had it bolt down a village track and ran me under a thorn tree. I came galloping into this little village with blood running down my face and a very jittery horse. The people were so lovely, they cleaned me up and bought me a mirror to show me the 3 neat slashes across my nose.
Or when I was minding the aforementioned B&B and severed the tendon in my foot. I had to hobble down through the muddy horse paddock twice a day on crutches with Joshie head-banging my butt towards the feed shed. I learnt to get to the feed shed and just hang on tight with him butting me while I unlocked the door. Not to mention the 8 month old border collie (Oscar) and two Rhodesian Ridgebacks runing mad around us all…… Hospital said total inactivity of said foot. Ha!
And if you love that sweaty horse smell, then go and ride in the tropics! Yuummm. They love the hose off at the end of it.
Cindy,
Lovely anglo…I bet Cairns would have undercover arenas these days for nights in the summer. I read Tazar’s comments on riding in South America…..and your living in New York. I would have loved to have visited these places and yet still may “if wishes were horses beggars would ride” I suppose.. I also would draw animals but not anywhere the quality of the example you have scanned from the past….I have not caught up on pondland until the past few days and see Jo-anne and Douga going hammer and tongs. Douga is perhaps a little pye eyed with his God. When I first came to pondland, I, with great trepidation made a comment on Outback Jack and was “deleted” forthwith. I think the chatterers may unnerve most of us. My main feeling is sadness at the wastage. Please forgive my wordiness but will shortly pull my head in and be quiet…
Kind Regards,
Elizabeth
Hi Cindy, Love your new photos. I used to have an Anglo Arab called Sirocco and had ponies as well and some other horses. Loved to ride and used to do campdrafting and barrel racing. We had an old black pony called Pinto that had been my father’s youngest brother’s pony. He was about 30 when we got him and he used to be led up to the grid by an adult and then they would let him go and he would set off at a fast walk or half trot back to the house and we would bounce around on top, reins flapping. He would not have taken much notice of us anyway. He just wanted to get back to stand stubbornly in front of the fed shed door. Once there he would whinny and tap the door with his hoof, as if saying ‘Open up guys. I’ve taken the brats for a ride. Now gimme something to eat!’
Hi Cindy, Wifey is very impressed with your horse sketch. I think it’s pretty good too but I’m no artist.
I remember going on a trail ride in NZ years ago - I think they gave me some 30 year old nag that could barely trot; that suited me fine.
Tazar, is that the same Harry Potter scar on your foot then?
No photos of the butt-pushed-towards-the-feed-shed is there? That sounds hilarious!
Everything smells sweaty up here in wet season.
Tim,
That sketch is pretty much eaten away by the acid in the paper now. I’ve never properly looked after my artwork -bad habit I must change.
Hey, I wish I could be a 30 yr old nag again….
Hi Elizabeth,
Great to see you here. Have you any of your animal sketches? I’d love to see them. Yes, I must admit that I was naive with other pond members, believing them to react/behave in the same manner as myself. Funny how it’s all the men of a certain “vintage” though.
Must pop back to your blog, there’s something I forgot to say!
Thanks for stopping by,
Cindy
Ilana, you found me!
There’s no weirdo stuff going on here thank goodness. They can have all of that on the Pond.
Have you any photos of your Sirocco, or Pinto? It’s sounds like you are quite the accomplished horsewoman! Barrel racing scares me, you must have nerves of steel.
Thanks for visiting my little corner,
Warn regards,
Cindy
Hi Cindy pity your so far away I have a black Arabian sitting in the paddock doing nothing you could borrow and you only need strong legs to ride him he is very gentle in the mouth. One of my girls was into Eventing Nic used to tell me she loved the adrenalin rush of the cross country, she rode that horse every day rain hail or shine, in winter she had a spot light set up so she could ride at night after doing her homework. I like your drawing it’s very good.
Eva, Oh !Oh! OOOOh!
A black Arabain - the horse of my dreams since childhood!
I used to read all the horse stories (Elaine Mitchell’s Silver Brumby series), but The Black Stallion by Walter Farley was my favourite.
I used to have Thighs of Steel, as my husband used to say. Not so any more, but I could get them back. Maybe.
Do you have a photo of him? I may have to move…..
Cheers
Cindy