I have been riding other people’s horses lately. One is Anakin, a big grey Thoroughbred ex-racehorse, a showjumper. Big and bold. Not the sort of horse I usually ride but my friend Helen convinces me he’s safe. ‘He’s my favourite trail horse,’ she whispers to me out of earshot of her horse Cruiser. Officially Anakin is leased by Helen’s daughter as a showjumper, but Helen likes to take him out on the trail.
The first time I ride Anakin, I am a bundle of nerves. I’m sitting so much higher above the ground than I’m used to. His strides are long and he has a lot of vertical movement in his gaits; he’s nothing like my little Flossie. Anakin looks to me for confidence and guidance. To begin with he gets neither, and we wobble aimlessly along the trail together. I feel I need to micromanage him. I sweat nervously and am relieved when it’s time to get off. ‘You just need to get used to him,’ Helen tells me. One of my reasons for riding other people’s horses is to build my confidence which, for no obvious reason, has taken a hammering in the past year. I trust Helen’s judgement, so I ride Anakin again, and then another time. I have a lesson on him as well. Then another trail ride and then I go with Helen and we take Anakin and Cruiser to a favourite trail up in the forested hills.
We trot along and I can’t maintain my rhythm with Anakin’s big movement. I bounce like a beginner and lose my stirrups. I tell Helen we need to walk for a while so I can regain my balance and get my act together. I breathe and readjust my posture in the saddle, rub Anakin on the neck. We trot again. Slowly I begin to find a rhythm and relax into being present with the horse. Going up a small hill, I ask Anakin for a canter. His canter is lovely. It’s smooth and controlled. Something in me shifts. My confidence grows. I find my balance. The forest is dry and dusty from summer but the air on this day is cool. The sun dapples through the trees. We trot along leafy paths and by now I am enjoying myself, in tune with this big grey horse. We are taking confidence from each other and it feels good.
We come out of the forest onto a wide gravel path that goes straight up a long hill for about a kilometre through a pine plantation. We call it the Canter Hill because it’s a good place to let the horses have a run. ‘Are you okay to canter up?’ Helen asks. ‘These boys won’t race,’ she assures me. I don’t really believe her but nod anyway, ‘Okay.’
At the bottom of the slope, we ask the horses to canter. Cruiser and Helen are in front. I am just behind on Anakin. His stride is long and powerful and he picks up the pace. Helen looks back over her shoulder at me, ‘Okay?’ she asks. We’ve been riding together for years and over recent times she’s watched me struggle with confidence. She knows I’m on the edge of my comfort zone, out here cantering on Anakin like this. But I am okay, surprising so. ‘Yes,’ I yell back in answer to her question. It’s an understatement. With every big stride that Anakin takes, my confidence grows. I’m having a ball. I’m thrilled. I can feel Anakin’s energy building, his desire to race still there in his essence. I don’t fight it. I don’t try to hold him back. I stand in my stirrups and bury my hands in his mane.
A canter is a three-beat gait. One hind leg for propulsion, the opposite front leg to pull forward, then the other diagonal pair together. Always at least one foot on the ground at any time. The gallop is a four-beat gait. It has the same footfalls as a canter but there is a moment of suspension in between when all four feet are off the ground. A moment of flying.
As I stand in my stirrups and bury my hands in Anakin’s mane, he breaks from canter to gallop. We are alongside Cruiser, then we are in front. We are flying. I’ve never gone so fast on a horse before. I have galloped, but not like this. Not with this speed and propulsion. Not with this power. My quads pump absorbing the rocking motion of it. My eyes are focussed straight ahead, looking between Anakin’s ears as he eats the ground. The forest rings with thundering hooves as the two horses gallop up the hill. Near the top of the hill, I sit back into the saddle and bring Anakin back to a canter, a trot, finally a walk. He’s blowing and prancing. He still wants to run. I let him trot. The veins stand out on his sweat-soaked neck. Cruiser is beside us. Helen and I are laughing. We whoop in the quiet forest as the horses prance and trot along. The air is thick with adrenalin and horse sweat. The path is narrower now and we are back in among jarrah trees. After another five minutes, we make the horses walk and we talk about the ride, already reliving and retelling the thrill of it. Even now as I think about it, I can’t wipe the grin from my face. I can still feel it in my body.
Thanks for coming along for the ride with me
Jill
Finding confidence up a hill
And now you know why Anakin is my "favourite" horse to ride!!
Horses are such magnificent animals, and the bonds that they establish with their riders (and vice-versa) are amazing.
Having spent some time with horses when I was younger (a story in itself), I saw to it that our city-based children spent as much time as we could afford (in $$$ and real-time) around horses as they grew up, whether that be a beautiful (and now sadly developed) suburban stable or dedicated horse camp in the hills near Strathalbyn, SA.
The confidence and joy that they exuded after their ride times was maintained even as they de-tacked the horses and cleaned up after them. And the images I have seen of our children on the trail rides - trotting at best, but usually walking - show the joy that they felt. And I suspect that the horses felt too.
Thankyou for sharing your horses with us.