A Tale of Tails

I was mildly amazed to find out that there are parts of the world where y'all get to ride whatever level you want. I felt a little like a knight-errant would feel, arriving in a foreign court, displaying a mythic sword he found in a castle keep and slew ten dragons to reach, only to find out that Bob the quartermaster has a whole rack of them hanging up in the armory.

It was a timely reminder that our worldly achievements aren't quite as important as we think they are.

Anyway, once we had finally scraped up that last 60%, I realized with a shock that achieving Fourth Level meant we had to actually, you know... ride at Fourth Level. Step one was to obtain the long-desired tailcoat that I'd worked so hard for the right to wear. It turns out that these bloody things cost your left kidney, except that that very day, Erin spotted one on Marketplace for an absolute steal. I figured that the timing aligned (even if I feared it might not fit) for this to be Providence, so I went ahead and bought it that afternoon after the show.

It arrived on the Wednesday when we were in town anyway (more Providence, I tell you). Hubby was jumping out of his skin when we got back to the car, where I tore open the package and he declared it was magnificent. It's had a bit of wear and is kind of pilled but you don't see that on a show photo, do you then?

We rushed home. Hubby put away the groceries while egging me on as I dressed up in the whole shebang for pictures. He made it exceptionally cute and special. When I was a girl looking forward to marriage, nobody told me about this bit---the whole "main cheerleader" thing escaped me. There have been many occasions through the past couple of years that I've voted to press pause on the horse show thing to save cash, and every time he's come up with some other thing we can go without for a little while, all because "Liefie, you're so close to those tails." Well now the tails were here, in the flesh, and he was most certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to do a little photo shoot of them.

Readers, I do not have the budget to pick a stylish outfit for this, okay? I just picked the one I could afford that was hopefully in my size. I am also 5'4" and fighting an eternal battle against my chonky genetics. I expected to look like a cotton ball with a tail. I did not expect that it would look this freaking badass. I am in love. I would like to wear them everywhere. As a side note, my success in the aforementioned fight last year was key to the fact that I can actually fit in them---they're a bit of a squeeze in the boob department, but not uncomfortable. (I appreciate the support, to the contrary).

heck yeah

With the tailcoat acquired, there remained only one piece of the puzzle: actually, um, riding Fourth Level. I'd changed my entry for the first of June to 4-1 instead of 3-1. When I read the test, my heart did a little flip. Of course we'd been working on the Fourth Level movements for more than a year, but playing around with pirouettes and tempis is not the same as actually stringing them together in a test.

I had no expectations of a good score for this show. We'd chased enough scores in the last year. We were just going to go out and give it a bash, and if it wasn't a good mark, it would still be our very first Advanced together and special because of it.

For two weeks, Arwen and I rode the test movements over and over. The one that really surprised me was that funny little HXF, change rein medium trot, showing 7 steps of collected trot over X. Sounds simple enough. Disastrous to ride. We broke, we bucked, we struggled.

I also had trouble showing difference in the pirouette canter steps on a 20m circle. Everything else, though, was surprisingly fine: the canter to halt, the half-pass into a change on the wall which she often wants to anticipate, and---to my joy---the three changes on the diagonal. She liked these and I had to ride them really carefully to avoid a whole lot of anticipation, but she did them cleanly.

lots to fix still, but clean and uphill! (especially for a horse who is actually built pretty downhill)

By last weekend, I felt that we rode 4-1 fairly competently, but I didn't feel entirely ready the way we have been for Third Level lately. I expected a mid-fifties score, if I'm being honest, but that didn't put a damper on anything. I was just so excited to get to ride our first Advanced test, to be at this place in our journey, no matter if we weren't good at it yet.

I also got Arwen clipped. We'd finally obtained our own clippers again but used them to do the kids' ponies the week before, so I was faced with one very hairy dragon and some extremely blunt blades. I sheared the poor beast like a sheep. The worst clip job I've ever done, but at last she was comfortable again.

My ride time was pleasantly late and I spent the morning doing her plaits with a haynet. She seldom gets hay---this is a feral pasture beast we're talking about---so she was happy to nibble while I did her hair. I kept waiting for DragonMode to kick in, but it took a surprisingly long time. Maturity, is that you? (She is 18 after all---maybe we're starting to chill out a little).

We were taking a lovely young client's horse out for her first competition with K as well, and I was a little worried that this mare would be tense to load. I needn't have feared. She waltzed right in without looking back. I, however, lost focus on my dragon, who pulled away from me and merrily gallivanted off into the pasture. I retrieved her, cursing and sweating, from the middle of a gigantic blackjack bush a few moments later and dragged her back to the box with thorns and burrs dripping off us both, only for Arwen to basically trot into the box without looking back. (The client horse stood angelically throughout).

crappy clip, gorgeous plaits. It's all about balance, people

At last, we stuffed ourselves into my dad's bakkie (the SUV's suspension chose the week before the show to sadly expire): hubs, me, my mom, K, and Sokkies, who is a neonatal potbelly pig. I sort of rescued Sokkies' mom when she was really pregnant and she had six lovely, healthy babies, but accidentally stood on Sokkies, necessitating stitches. He is now our latest bottle baby and had to come along because he gets fed every three hours. He is extremely cute but hates me.

the culprit

We hit the road to beloved Penbritte and they traveled like stars, though I had to tie them both quite short because the youngster wanted to sass Arwen, which is never a good idea. I spent the drive convincing myself that I was going to forget to canter in.

Arwen was, again, dry and happy when we arrived. In fact, she seemed positively sleepy as we unloaded and gave her a haynet to pick on while I got us both ready. The youngster was well-behaved and unproblematic throughout.

The only person who was being a little problematic was Sokkies, who was disgusted at the prospect of being in his cat carrier during the show and screamed blue murder at times. Luckily, he didn't spook anybody's horses.

K helpfully tidied up the horrid edges I'd left on her legs. I was just putting Arwen's saddle on when suddenly a familiar car pulled up and out spilled a whole lot of extended family, thoroughly flabbergasting me. With his biggest grin hubby informed that he couldn't let this prestigious first-tailcoat-wearing occasion go unnoticed. He had invited the whole army to witness this historic moment. It was extremely cute.

trying to make us presentable since 2015

Cheerleading squad in tow, we headed to the warmup, leading K and the youngster by the box, where the youngster continued to be impeccable. Arwen didn't care that we left her behind. She knew where she was and what her job was and immediately got to work.

We had a really chill warmup during which we both felt completely relaxed, even though I'd been faintly nauseous with nerves all morning. As soon as I was actually on the horse, doing the thing, I felt completely fine. Arwen warmed up great except that her formerly good change, right to left, was sticky, but her old bad change, left to right, was perfect. Clearly we have overcorrected.

Then it was time to go. Penbritte was 100% the right choice of venue for our first Advanced---everything felt relaxed, normal, and routine. We wandered over to the judge, whose favorite thing ever is to give me 58.7%, so I immediately abandoned all hope of a good mark. While she was writing, we did a little figure eight with changes just to tune them up again. Arwen felt so chill that she was almost a little bit lazy.

Then the bell rang and---lo and behold---I did not forget to canter.

For the first time ever, tails flapping magnificently, we started with A, enter collected canter, X, halt, salute.

She marched down the centreline and had a trot step into the halt, but it was smooth and fluid enough that the judge gave us 7.0, "active entry," an auspicious start. She happily proceeded into trot and then that change of rein in medium trot with the collected steps. Arwen still doesn't quite understand what the heck this is supposed to be, and she stepped sideways in the collected bit, then lacked some boldness in the last bit of medium. It's just a matter of teaching her how it goes---she'll get it. We got 6.0 for that, "more uphill."

it is tragic that no show photographer was around to document the occasion, but my MIL did her best

The half-passes were easy peasy, 7.0 and 6.5. J makes you do so many changes of direction in lateral work that this first mini half-pass zig-zag felt effortless. She lacked boldness in her extended trot---she was sort of waiting for more collected steps---and didn't have her usual swing and reach for 6.5, "more balance." The shoulder-in left was so easy (7.0, "steady") that I sort of panicked that I must have messed it up and responded by messing up the shoulder-in right, 6.5, "too much neck bend."

Then it was time for the walk tour. The turns on the haunches had been giving me the heebie jeebies since Second Level, and now they were walk pirouettes, but I didn't botch them. I carried my whip for this one single movement, switching it from one side to the other so that I could just gently tap her outside butt and remind her that she does have four legs. The moment's fierce concentration it takes my uncoordinated self to switch a whip from side to side proved an excellent way of keeping my focus. We got 6.0 "more fluent" for both, but she kept her rhythm and never crossed her hind legs.

Our collected walk was another 6.0 and she lengthened nicely into the extended, but got a little tight and joggy in the end as she wanted to canter. I'd spent our last few minutes of warmup getting her really sharp off both legs in preparation for those imitation tempis at the end, and she wiggled left and right a bit as I tried to steady her. We got 6.0 for that, "more balance after."

Our marks rose again as she stepped into canter for 6.5, "more active." We had never struggled with the canter half-passes, but I'd watched a video on riding 4-1 at 2am the night before (due to Sokkies, not show nerves) and the coach had said how steep this half-pass was, so I decided that I needed to stare fixedly at B when I turned onto the centreline. I thought I'd missed the centreline completely, and actually had to steady the half-pass a bit to avoid getting there long before B. Sure, they're steep, but it's amazing how much less steep the lateral work is when your horse is 14.3 hands---it feels like you have kilometres of space in there.

flappy tails are a vibe

I believed I'd botched the half-pass but it was 6.5, "more forward." She popped her back up through the change, leading me to believe it was late behind, but it was nicely through for 6.5.

Next was the circle with the pirouette canter steps. This is another movement I know we can nail with more practice. It was a little wobbly here, and she almost halted on the centreline, but we scraped it together for 6.0, "more sitting."

We rode a bold medium canter for 6.5, "more uphill," and I focused on the accuracy during the next half-pass but kind of abandoned the bend a little for 6.0, "more bend." She really anticipated the next flying change, yet waited well for my aid, then gave the change a little explosively for 6.0, "more synchronized."

I really rode the extended canter but we still got 6.0, "hurried," and 6.0 for the transitions, "more uphill."

so proud of how she was in the bridle

Then came the big moment: the change of rein KXM with three flying changes---quarterline, centreline, and quarterline. This is obviously the preparation for the threes and fours, but without the pressure of counting. I set her up as well as I could and underrode the first change a bit; it wasn't quite through. The next two changes were through and on the aid, though, and we got 6.5, "more straight."

She was absolutely on fire by this point---extended canter followed by practice tempis will do that to her---and I had to sort of wrangle her down to trot for 6.5, "more uphill." She was pulling and excited as we turned down the centreline but absolutely obedient into a square halt, albeit taking one step back to correct herself. That earned us 6.5, "more balance."

the light in her tail 💜

Our collectives were more of the same: 6.5 for paces, 6.0 for impulsion with elasticity, suppleness and engagement underlined, 6.5 for submission, 6.5 for rider position, and 6.0 for aids. The final mark was 63.28% with the comment "A willing horse but not always in balance today. Could be lighter in the forehand, especially in lengthened work."

I was beyond happy as we headed out. It felt like our most harmonious test yet. She was focused, attentive, happy to be there, and listening to all of my aids. The same could have been said for me. We were so in sync. It was amazing; it was the magical part of dressage. I expected nothing from our scores and didn't care. We'd come out and done it, and it felt harmonious and calm instead of laboured or messy.

Arwen was happy to return to her haynet and some water while I fed Sokkies and then headed off for two things: my test and (more importantly) chippies. Both were highly satisfactory, especially because I ate the chippies sitting in the restaurant in my tailcoat and feeling very cool, but also because our final mark was almost 5% more than we've ever achieved with this specific judge. It was also good enough for first place (okay, out of two), and Penbritte's ribbons do not disappoint.

I couldn't have asked for a happier day.

God is good.

new halter bc you have to have a nice new halter when you're an advanced horse

Final Point, Part Two

Show photos by Daniella Ribeiro Photography

Thunder and Arwen had 50 minutes between their ride times, which was honestly just perfect. It was enough time to unsaddle Thunder and give him water while BarnRat saddled Arwen for me---quite the luxury. When I hopped on Arwen, we still had 30 minutes to our ride time. I normally wouldn't warm up for quite that long, but then again, normally I have actually practiced our test.

"We have half an hour to learn Medium 2," I told her. "Think we can do it?"

Arwen gave a longsuffering sigh. Your whole job is to do the reading, human. I'll do the dancing, you do the reading. How am I supposed to dance if you can't read?

With profuse apologies we set off into the warmup, where Arwen was so relaxed that she was even a little ho-hum in the beginning and needed a little reminder to get off my leg, please. As soon as we'd finished our stretchy trotting and started cantering, though, she was wide awake and ready for action.

Arwen has done this enough times to know that we go to shows to do the things we did a lot of at home this week, and she was mildly surprised when I started asking for half-passes into flying changes, but she gave them to me beautifully nonetheless. We had to go through that sticky change left to right a couple of times before we nailed them down. The renvers was easy from the word go (thank you again, J, for making us do them endlessly).

In fact, I felt pretty confident as we wandered over to the arena. So did BarnRat, who had had time to read through the test a bit more and took her place at E with great pride. 

If I could survive 3-2 on Thunder with zero preparation and a bunch of drama into the bargain, Arwen and I had it handled. She had a big look at the scary logs and then immediately got over it. She was ready to work.

"Ready to give it another shot?" the judge asked.

I pasted on my best smile and said that I was. And thus we began.

I thought our centreline and halt were pretty good, but I, uh, missed the centreline a little for 6.5, "not quite on centreline". (An auspicious start). We turned on the diagonal for her medium---no bell ringing, this time---and she powered joyously across for 7.0, "a little hurried." I felt at this moment that I had a bit less dragon under me than usual. It was a warm day and she hadn't been clipped yet. She was by no means labouring or struggling, just not jumping out of her skin.

in full flight 💜

We turned into the shoulder-in with her a tiny bit on my leg. I bumped her off without trouble but we got 6.5, "more bend," because I was thinking more about her position than her bend. She flowed into the renvers effortlessly and started a string of 7.0s: the renvers, her ever-fabulous extended trot and its transitions, and the shoulder-in and renvers the other way. It was all effortless. Good, good dragon.

The sevens, amazingly, continued into the first turn on the haunches, "more preparation, but good steps." I lost her rhythm for a minute in the second TOH for 5.5, "more suppleness, losing hindquarters." She got 6.5 for the medium walk and a 6.0 for the extended walk, where she tried to pull the reins through my hands (rude) and almost jogged a step at the end, so we got "some tension."

peep the absolute pro of a husband behind us

Her canter transition was effortless for 7.0, and she obediently went to the half-pass right for 6.0, "more bend." I was desperate for her not to anticipate so didn't prepare her at all for the change, just gave her a random spur poke on the long side. She responded with a big buck to tell me to get my crap together. I got it together, prepared properly, asked, and got a slightly close behind but through change. The generalized mess earned us a 3.0, "disobedient, not on first attempt." My bad.

The medium canter was next and I rode it quite boldly for 6.5, "more ground cover."

not sure how much more ground these little leggies are supposed to cover

We got another 6.0 with "more bend" for the half-pass. I prepared nicely for the second change, which is her hard one, left to right---and she stepped through it cleanly if a little tight for 6.0. Yay!

threw the curb rein away bc she was getting a little deep

The circle with release of contact was boring but fine for 6.5 and we got another 6.0 for the extended canter, "more ground cover," 6.0 for the transitions too. Then we cantered down centreline and transitioned to trot. Arwen thought maybe it'd be a good time to throw her toes a bit and I had to put the handbrake on to get a halt at the end, but the judge gave us 6.5, "obedient, not quite square."

Our collectives were also pretty good; 7.0 for paces, 6.5 for impulsion, 6.0 for submission, and 7.0 for both my rider marks. "Talented and obedient horse with a tendency to become a little hurried at times," the judge wrote.

I walked her out of the arena dead happy with how she'd gone. Third Level has started to feel easy for us. Okay, we're not lighting the world on fire in terms of scores, but despite our one big mistake with the flying change, the whole test had felt competent and easy. None of the movements are a mission anymore---not now that we've conquered those flying changes.

I thought we might have gotten our 60% but wasn't sure. All the same, I was chuffed with her. She had a very long drink of water and tucked into her hay with gusto. Thunder had been a good boy while she was working, except for untying himself from the horsebox halfway through the test. Luckily he didn't take the opportunity to gallivant anywhere; instead, he wandered over to DH, who snagged him mid-video-taking without interrupting the video. (Horse show husband level: expert.)

the best dragon

BarnRat was happy to chill at the horsebox while Arwen and Thunder stood tied and we went to get tests and food. 5th Avenue is comparatively unique among local shows in that they do several little prize givings throughout the day, which makes it all a little more ceremonious than the usual thing where you just get your test from the show office. The organizer even hunted me down to make sure I was around for the prize giving, which was so kind of her. (Seriously, this venue is beyond cool).

They handed out ribbons to the cool kids who rode Inter I, PSG, and Advanced/Fourth, and then came time for Medium/Third. Of course, MW (who rides a Lippizzaner, yes, a real one, in the Intermediate), won our class.

adorable cafe signs + husband's dressage face

Then they announced that Arwen was second, and I wandered over to get the test and ribbon, and there it was: 61.71%. Not a world-shaking mark by any means, but it was what we needed. We had our points. We'd earned our tails. Sure, it wasn't a great mark, but it was a pretty bomb moment.

100/10 for this scribe's handwriting

Thunder was fourth (okay, out of five) but would have been second if not for the errors. I was over the moon.

The horsies loaded up fine, barring Arwen's moment of hesitation about getting in when I initially tried to have her self-load. BarnRat announced that she'd had a blast, bless her. We went home with chicken strips and chippies (literally my favourite part of many horse shows).

I'd already picked out a show for our mutual first Advanced/Fourth test.

"I think I'd better read it to you," BarnRat declared. "You know, just in case you mess it up."

God is good.

Final Point, Part One

Show photos by Daniella Ribeiro Photography

I suppose it's roughly the same all over the world, but for clarity's sake, let me explain how it works if you want to advance in the levels over here. We have four graded levels (we used to have five), which are exactly equivalent to the American ones: First through Fourth Level. We do have Training as well, but you can skip it if you want.

Moving up from one level to the next is something you have to earn by getting grading points. Grading points depend on your score and have nothing to do with your placings. You get one grading point for a score of 60-65%, two for a score of 65-70%, and three for those geniuses who can pull out 70% or more. You need a total of ten points to request an upgrade to the next level.

One can see how this quickly becomes a lengthy and expensive undertaking, although mine was considerably lengthier and more expensive than really necessary. I piddled around for a long time, learning how to do dressage more than actually going out there and doing it. It was only in the beginning of last year, when our levels got restructured and aligned with America's, that I got to advance to Third Level. And suddenly, Fourth Level---which is nicknamed Advanced here---seemed within reach.

it's the time of year where we ride in the dark

Arwen and I embarked on a quest to go up the levels. Why not Thunder, you ask? Well, partly because I'm motivated to do things properly on him, which also means I'm somewhat crippled with self-doubt. He's objectively the nicer horse and has the potential to go further. Whereas Arwen---my then 17-year-old 14.3hh Nooitie---well, I could bugger it all up on Arwen and no one would really mind as long as she was happy and comfortable. This is very liberating and the approach I should have taken on Thunder from the start.

For another thing, Arwen is, not to put too fine a point on it, getting kind of old. She's the strongest, fittest, and most sound she's ever been, but at nearly 19 now there's no guaranteeing that'll last forever. Besides, I rode my first ever dressage test on Arwen. It seemed fitting to compete her lots and try to climb the levels with her as quickly as we could while taking a steadier approach with Thunder and attempting actual mastery of the movements.

Not that climbing the levels is a slapdash endeavour, not with all those grading points to accumulate. I quickly discovered that getting points at Third Level is no mean feat. If you can steer accurately around a circle and generally canter on the right leg in something approximating connection without any big spooks or other oopsies, you're virtually guaranteed your 60% at First Level. If you can calmly and rhythmically execute a lengthening, a leg-yield, and a little bit of counter-canter with no big mistakes, you'll get your 65%. Plus, you get to do two tests a day at First and Second, which means that if you ride predominantly clean tests you can put together your points for the next level in three or four shows. Maybe five shows, if you have a giant problem at one or never see 65%.

Second Level is obviously harder, but we had muddled our way through by virtue of doing a lot of shows. Then Third Level came along. Suddenly we get only one test per day, so if your horse feels a bit unsettled in the first test, tough luck---that's all you have. Obviously this is how it should be (I don't think I could survive two Third Level tests back to back, let alone the poor horse), but it does make things exponentially more difficult.

the point in the journey when she still had dapples - I think she was pregnant with Wynnie here

With many ups and downs, scraping out a bunch of low-60% tests and also dipping into the high 50s on a few occasions when my own mental game or a bit of separation anxiety on Arwen's part got in the way, we finally accumulated nine grading points by the end of last year. Our show in February earned us 58.87% because she was shouting for Midas the entire time---so tantalisingly close. Then we had Horse of the Year, Arab Nationals, and SANESA to get through. But finally the opportunity to try again for the last grading point presented itself last weekend at 5th Avenue, one of our most beloved show venues, which we somehow haven't seen in years.

We were scheduled to ride 3-1, which is a pretty easy test. There's a shoulder-in and a little half-pass but the flying changes are on the diagonal and there's nothing tricky to catch you out. I prepared Arwen and Thunder for it, and though Thunder was giving me uphill about ignoring my leg, Arwen went like a star. We'd spent the two months since HOY doing almost nothing but flying change after flying change, working our butts off to fix the lateness we've struggled with. Her change left to right was finally starting to match right to left, and both felt uphill and through in a way they never had before.

Thunder and I are in a bit of a rough patch. I'll get more into it in another post, but basically, Arwen gradually made me realize just how little response he has to my aids. Of course, I've always known that he will happily set up camp behind my leg and live there, but Arwen's "heck yeah!" response to all my aids has pointed out to me just how little he really responds, especially to my leg. He's not being bad, he's just doing what I've accidentally conditioned him to do---about 30% of what he actually can do.

handsomest unmotivated boy

Fixing it means being very uncompromising and clear about what I expect, even if it means a whip tap, rapidly followed by big rewards (release of pressure and food reinforcement) when he responds. This is all positive and moving us in the right direction, with moments of true lightness like I've never had before on him, but it is a whole lot more work than just settling for the status quo as I've been doing for six or seven years. We practiced the test and it was fine, but there are messy moments in the connection when the newfound power wants to blast out of his locked underneck instead of going nicely into the bridle.

We headed off to 5th Avenue shortly after dawn on Sunday. I'd gotten up early to do Thunder's mane so we spent a peaceful half-hour in the barn, and he was a very good boy to load. They were both superstars and travelled extremely well. We arrived with Arwen not bearing a single droplet of sweat. In fact, she'd eaten half of her hay, which she never does. Clearly, sorting out her tummy issues around traveling has made a huge difference for her.

new-to-us travel outfit that one of them immediately tore

I had an hour before my test, which was almost perfect. It was long enough that I wasn't rushed but short enough that I could occupy myself with brushing him and doing other productive things instead of needless spiralling and/or procrastination, my two favourites. He was completely chill at the box, eating his hay while I tacked him up, and came over like a clever boy for me to get on from the mudguard.

Things began to unravel somewhat as we entered the warmup. Arwen was within view but not super close by and he was actually pretty good about this, but he was immediately tense and spooky. Part of this was the venue---the warmup is very close to a fairly busy road, something neither of my horses are used to. Part of it was the fact that I got on and immediately had ideas about going off my leg and not ignoring me. I don't blame him for being a bit nervous about this; I'm the one who suddenly changed the rules. I rewarded him with treats for good lateral work and he settled a little, but I still had a bit of that ticking-time-bomb feeling and he was tight in his neck as we finished our warmup.

Still, he was listening and standing quietly when asked as we rode to the show arena. There are some spooky big logs next to the arena that horses always have a little look at. He looked, but went on like a good boy when I put my calf on. We halted by the judge, neighed very loudly, and let them look at our number, then proceeded quietly around.

The judge was busy with paperwork, which was great---we could trot and canter around a bit and he settled nicely. He was actually much less separation anxious at this show than the last one, so that was awesome.

Finally the bell went and we toddled on in. He was a little distracted in our halt, but not bad. We proceeded left at C and started our shoulder-in, and as we did our half-circle onto the centreline for the half-pass to H, the judge rang the bell.

so very majestic

I was greatly perplexed. I ran through the test in my head and was sure I had it right, so I walked up to the box, hopelessly confused.

"You were supposed to go right at C and then medium trot," said the judge.

Alarm bells clanged in my head. "Are we riding test one?"

"Test two."

I tried not to show the panic on my face, but the compassion in the judge's eyes informed me that I failed.

"I need to pee," she announced, instantly cementing herself as my favourite judge ever. "Go ahead and get yourself a caller."

I thanked her profusely and cantered out. It turned out that there was a discrepancy between the entry form on the website and the program. I was the one who had totally failed to read the program. The show organizer hurried over and said they would get 3-1 ready for me if I wanted to ride it, while I confessed that I hated 3-2. Then they went to the warmup and asked the other riders which test they'd prepared; they all said 3-2.

I recognised that, firstly, this was my bad, and secondly, that the Lord was giving me a firm kick up the bottom to go out and ride 3-2 and face my fears. So I told the organizer not to worry, I'd ride 3-2. They were abundantly nice about this and honestly catapulted themselves into my favourite show venue just for how kind they were about the whole thing. Nobody was snide or patronising. It was awesome.

While all this was going on, DH and BarnRat---who had come to help hold horses---sprang into action. DH got my phone ready and took over caring for Arwen. BarnRat sprinted over to me. I read the test and realized I would never be able to ride it from memory, not with two minutes to learn it.

"Honey," I told BarnRat, "congrats, you've been promoted to test reader."

BarnRat, to her eternal credit, was only mildly appalled. She has never read a dressage test in her life, never mind a Third Level one. What's more, she is very Afrikaans, and while we all speak and read English well, 3-2 includes such gems as "renvers" and "haunches" and other horrendous old terms. But she pulled up her socks and announced she would give it her best shot.

"Just tell me which way to turn and we'll be fine," I said.

The judge returned. Thunder had had time to stand around contemplating all the spooky things, and he was more tense than ever (not helped by my mental state) as we headed back around the ring. We said hi to the lovely judge and then when we turned down the long side he spooked at something and did a series of handstands between the arenas, almost physically squashing the kind steward who'd helped us so nicely. Sorry, steward.

I managed to stop him around R and, to his credit, he went on super obediently when the bell rang.

reattempt, but this time with tense shoulders

We had already earned 7.0 for our first centreline, "fairly straight." He was tight and ready to spook again as we turned right and changed rein with the medium, MXK, so I held onto him a bit and we got 6.5, "more lengthened frame," with a -2 for the error we'd made earlier. Next came the shoulder-in---piece of cake, 7.0---and then the renvers. Of course, we hadn't prepared any renvers at all, but J made us do so many hours of renvers when he was in Second Level that it came easily for 6.5.

He spooked, hard, again when I turned him for the extended trot out of the scary corner. There were a few moments of absolute chaos.

why yes we both might need therapy for this one

He came back after a few bucks and we turned too late, but he actually gave me his nicest extended trot yet, still getting 6.0 despite the "disobedient at H" and then -4 for a second error because we did the extended S-F instead of HXF. (This wasn't because of BarnRat, who read like a champion; it was because I had no steering or brakes for a few seconds there).

two seconds later, straight back to business

We got 5.0 for the transitions, understandably, and didn't quite scrape ourselves back together for the next shoulder-in and renvers to get 6.5 for both. I thought I completely butchered the TOH, my mind was a bit busy wondering what happened next in the test, but we actually got 6.0 "a little large" for one and 6.0 "more straight out" for the other. His medium walk was a 7.0, and I was a bit conservative in the extended for 6.5, "more ground cover."

renvers featuring dearest angelic little BarnRat, the saver of the day

I felt a difference in him when I asked him to canter. It wasn't a whole heave-ho, I just touched him and he stepped up into it beautifully for 7.0. He also drifted effortlessly off my leg in the half-pass but was still a bit tight in the bridle and looking for something to spook at so that was 6.5, "little more bend." The flying change at the end was super and so obedient for 6.0, "clean, more straight."

Our medium canter was down the same long side where we'd had the bucking fest, so I didn't push it, for 6.0 "more risk." (I'd had enough risk for one day, thanks.) The half-pass left back into the spooky corner started well, but he saw something that made him break into trot at the very end. He popped back into canter on the right lead and I sort of just let him. (In hindsight, I should've put him back into canter left and reattempted the change). We got 5.5 for the half-pass and 4.0 for the change, which was pretty generous---that could've easily been a 0.

half-pass feat. anxious husband clearly praying + beloved horsebox

Next came the circle with release of contact, another thing we hadn't practiced in ages, but he was an extremely good boy for this and got 6.5. Our extended canter was again 6.0, "more risk", with a second 6.0 for the transitions. We muddled our way down centreline for 6.5, "not quite straight, a bit deep."

The spooky moments dinged us in the collectives. We got 7.0 for paces, 7.0 for impulsion (DELIGHTED with that), 6.0 for submission, 7.0 for position, and 6.5 for aids. Our final mark was 61.05% with the comment "Super horse showing ability. A pity about the errors today."

I was a little disappointed in the spookiness, but elated that he didn't spend the whole test screaming for Arwen (he whinnied once or twice, but that's his normal), and also that I didn't feel like I had to kick him through the whole thing. I need to show him more often to help him settle in new places again, but I also think that tension will go away when he realizes that being forward and off my leg isn't terrifying.

This is becoming a novel, so I'll recap Arwen's test in the next post.

God is good.

the sheer relief on BarnRat's face cracks me up

Arab Nationals 2025

I'll start by saying that we've had many really great shows and horse experiences that have brought me so much joy, but this one... well, it takes the cake. This was the best show ever. No two ways about it.

It had an inauspicious start, however. After our debacle at HOY, I had my reservations about entering Lancey at all. I was tired of struggling with the same issue over and over in his connection---and so was he. In fact, I'd largely stopped even trying to do dressage with him because we just couldn't get past the head-flipping. Even putting him in a Pelham did hardly any good at all; he held his neck all pretty, but didn't give me a true connection through to his hind feet.

But the Arab shows at the Afridome are always such an incredible experience that I had to give it another shot. So I did the thing that we're never supposed to do. I put him in the double bridle in a bid to solve his connection problem. And, go figure, it actually really did.

About two weeks before Arab Nationals, I slipped Arwen's double on to see what he thought. I assumed he would immediately be fussy and unhappy about having two bits in his mouth and was prepared to take it off the minute he said no to it. But he didn't. He just stood there looking at me with his puppy eyes. So I took him into the arena and rode him, and it was like having an entirely new horse. His permanently chompy, tight, unhappy mouth was magically still. I could feel his hind legs in my hands and make tiny adjustments. The difference was so profound that I could suddenly sit his canter in a way I never had before. He was immediately up into the bridle instead of falling BTV, which, yes, makes no sense at all, I know.

It was incredible. I'm not sure why the double worked so well, but I'm not complaining, not even a little. Lancey has a long and weird history with connection---he learned quite nicely with me many years ago, but then had a jumping kiddo with stiff hands for a few years, and learned to run around with his nose high in the sky. He's not the typical horse when it comes to his mouth, so I guess it's not that surprising that he goes by a different set of rules.

Anyway, I was just happy to actually enjoy schooling him for once, and he seemed to enjoy being schooled, too. Of course, he needs a ton of strength to achieve true collection and for his gaits to really develop to their full potential---but the difference was big enough that I called the Arab people and asked them to move my entries from the novice classes to the open classes. I would rather do a good ride and get no placings in the open class than wrestle him around another novice and get a ribbon. It's done our relationship no good to fight about the connection all the time. Erin gave us a lesson the day before the show and concurred that he would be fine in the open classes.

It was with happy anticipation that we prepped Lancey for the show. I'd succeeded in doing enough writing in advance that I could take the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of the show off, which was fantastic and much-needed. We would have taken Mawarda too, but he unfortunately had a little bit of biliary, not at all serious, but needed a break. So it was just DH and Lancey and me as we got in the box and headed off for gorgeous Parys.

The heavens opened about half an hour from home and we drove through the most intense downpour ever. It was a white-knuckled few minutes, but thanks to our newly installed horsebox camera, we watched Lancey absolutely chilling all the way. He didn't care even a little and contentedly munched hay as we got through the storm and drove uneventfully to Parys.

It was afternoon when we arrived, but we still had plenty of time to do some leisurely unpacking and stretch Lancey's legs. We had a nice stable on the very end of the aisle in a relatively quiet section (lots of the stables were full elsewhere), and I was worried at first that he'd be all alone in his row, but luckily a friend arrived that evening and moved in two doors down from him. Not that Lancey seemed particularly bothered---being raised as an orphan foal has made him a bit socially awkward but has the advantage that he doesn't really care if other horses are around or not. Useful, if a bit dysfunctional.

I fed him dinner---I suddenly realized that the little bro needs a bit more weight if he's going to be a proper show horse, so he's getting actual grain, which is not something that features in my Nooities' lives---and we quickly booked into the absolutely perfect little flat we'd found only a block away from the show. This place was incredible. If anybody's local, hit me up for the recommendation. I honestly can't overstate how great it was.

On returning to the show, we got to watch the liberty classes for a while. They're so much fun and so unique to the Arab breed. I can't get over how amazing the liberty horses are to go from absolutely flying around with flaggy tails to standing quietly to be caught at the drop of a hat. The liberty always seems to show off the pure essence of the Arabian, allowing them to be what they were born to be, without interference. They're just magic.

Armika Maxilove (I think)

After watching the magic, I went to saddle up Lancey, planning to school him in the indoor briefly. He'd been going like a superstar all week and is familiar with the Afridome, so I wasn't worried about actually schooling him much, but I do like to do a lap in there so that Mr. I Don't Like Weird Shadows wouldn't needlessly lose a class due to a snorty moment.

We ran into the only difficulty he gave me all show at this point. It was raining cats and dogs, and while the stable block and Dome are all indoors, there were a few puddles around. Lancey doesn't do water---it's the one thing he adamantly says no to. I had to get off and lead him to the indoor and get my boots wet because he wouldn't go without my leading the way. Once we actually got into the indoor, with horses spooking in all directions, bright spotlights, and the restaurant clattering around, he was totally chill.

I rode him only briefly; he was pretty freaking perfect, and anyway, there was that one person long-lining a horse in a questionable manner, so we all cleared out of there before that situation could escalate. I tucked him up in bed, put on his suit so he wouldn't get too grubby, and then we went back to our room to eat KFC and fall asleep watching an old movie. Peak showcation, if you ask me.

We were back at the show bright and early the next morning because we had the open geldings class at some dreadful hour and Lancey, the most relaxed show horse in the world, had slept in his poo, as he always does. I'd much rather have a chill boy who sleeps in his stable than a clean one, but it does mean we do quite a lot of scrubbing. Once again, with the wash bays fully populated, the portable horsebox wash bay proved a miracle. He'd been bathed the day before but still seemed a bit yellow around the edges; it was too cold to do a full bath, so I just washed the stinky bits and hoped for the best.

Turning him out was otherwise pretty delightful. Arabs usually show natural so I just brushed him and made him shiny and Wampummed his legs to within an inch of their life. Before long, I was on him and cantering around the warmup, and he felt like a million bucks. We didn't spend much time in the warmup that morning; it basically poured rain most of the day.

Hubby leaped into action as we waited in the chute. This man is pleasantly bored and patiently helpful at most shows, but Arab shows are a whole different story. He is INTO the Arab thing. He brushed. He polished. He wiped boots and bits. He ordered me not to canter in the muddy spot because it would make my horse dirty. It was awesome.

We headed into a big, strong geldings class with no expectations except having some fun, and fun was certainly had. He was incredible on the rail, not even looking at the spooky restaurant that sometimes makes him turn his head or lose rhythm. The judge, who is also a horse welfare representative and the kind of judge you really want to impress, pulled us somewhere in the middle after the rail and let us do our own tests.

I was feeling good as we headed out for our test. Erin made us a nice one that shows off his obedience really well, and he floated around, being his glorious, unproblematic self. We did have a little miscommunication in the extended trot where I touched the curb rein to balance him and he thought he should canter instead. Bummer, but we fixed it quickly, and the rest was gorgeous and perfect, and when the judge pinned us fourth, I was really, really happy. This is Arab Nationals, after all. You don't just get ribbons at Arab Nationals. I had hoped we might get one for the whole show, and having achieved my goal, I could now forget all about ribbons and merely enjoy myself. (So I thought!) The championship class went fine but we didn't get any rosettes, as expected.

Our next class was one I'd been dreading: the best rider class. I'd only ever done one once before, many many years ago on Nianell, and it was a complete train wreck because teenage me had not been well prepared by any stretch of the imagination. I always say that I won't do best rider in case there's a horse swap and I end up on somebody's crazy horse... but to tell the truth, I just didn't believe I was any good. (Thanks, impostor syndrome). But when we had to scratch Mawarda I felt sorry for his kiddo's parents and offered to buy the class from them, and when they said they'd give it to me for free, I couldn't exactly just pull out then at that moment, could I?

So it was that on a wing and a prayer and kindness from good people, Lancey and I headed into yet another big strong class. All the pros were riding with us and the standard was high. I white-knuckled my way around the arena, terrified that we'd have to gallop without stirrups or stand on our heads or something. In the end, our judge didn't ask for any tricks. He gave us an ordinary rail and a dead simple test: walk away, trot a little, canter down the long side, trot, halt. No big deal.

I was relieved when it was over. I was astonished when he pulled us out in third place. My head was still spinning from shock when we returned for the championship, where we rode on the rail only, and I was too surprised to focus at all on anything but Lancey was perfect.

the show photos were SO EXPENSIVE so have a screenshot

We came into the lineup and the riders who'd beaten me in the adult class came first and second, and then they were saying that Sir Lancelot was third in the top five. I did not say, "Glory to the King," or any of the other nice things I should have said. I said, "What the f***," loud enough that the child rider next to me giggled. Sorry everyone. My bad.

Then we headed out to get our first ever championship ribbon at an Arab show, and DH was cheering like a madman.

The judge said he loved Lancey and that I rode "very nicely," but asked me to pick up my horse's frame a bit. (The judge made no mention of my horse's hairy ears and very long whiskers; even though Lancey is almost always the only hairy Arab at the show, I've never had a judge say anything about them). I was still expecting him to tell me that I needed to ride him more forward, but this was apparently not the case. I had finally mastered the art of riding forward enough for showing, it would appear. This gave me a massive confidence boost---I had been worrying about going too slowly so much that I didn't worry about where his head was at all.

day one haul

After this, Lancey had the physio, who offered sessions at the show. I've always worried about the tender spot behind his wither, but she didn't find anything concerning in it. It's just the place where he holds his tension. The only other spot that was a bit sore was his TMJ, which was from the constant chomping and fussing and unhappiness in the snaffle. I anticipate that there won't be any soreness there from now on, he's so quiet in the double. His SI, usually his issue, is perfect. I asked about him carrying his hips to the right and she said his left was a bit stronger than his right and so pushes him to one side, so lots of shoulder-in right is in our future. Overall, though, there was nothing really going on with him.

costume horse inspo, I thought the red looked awesome, Erin says it looks like Father Christmas

Then we hung out in Parys for the afternoon, letting Lancey relax and have some peace. This commenced one of the happiest afternoons I can remember. It was kind of cold, so we started with hot chocolate at this super cute little deli, then proceeded to my favourite secondhand bookshop in the world, where I scored a whole lot of Jeffery Deavers and Dick Francises for like R20 each (roughly $5). We found a gelato shop---it was warmer by then---and strolled along the street eating incredible dark chocolate gelato. I was merrily licking my gelato, chattering incessantly about our noble victory in the best rider championship, when DH put his hand on my head and turned it so I could see a sign for yet another secondhand bookshop. Inside, I found EVEN MORE Deavers and Dick Francises. We left with an inadvisable amount of books. Like... a lot of books. An embarrassing number.

We returned that evening to take His Lanceyness for a long hand walk and get my hired costume from a wonderfully nice man who owns an Arab stud and agreed to let me rent one of the native costumes. He was super kind even though I had to ask him to show me how to put the costume on---I really felt welcomed with open arms despite being a newb in this specific corner of the equestrian world. It was a lovely change from some of the drama we've been having this year.

We rounded off the day by waiting an annoyingly long time for pizza in town, after which I slept like a baby.

Our classes started a little later on Saturday so we had a relatively leisurely morning and gave Lancey a full bath with purple shampoo, which made a world of difference, especially to his mane. Normal shampoo simply doesn't cut it there. It was warm enough that he wasn't miserable---he really hates being cold---and he looked so pretty afterwards. He warmed up like a real angel for the adult riding horse class, which was enormous. I think there were fifteen of us, and it was all the open riders with all their very best horses. It's always a super competitive class and a highlight of the show.

I was delighted to be in such company and not expecting a ribbon at all, but I was determined to improve his frame and ride him like a proper showing pony and not a novice-level dressage horse. He is twelve years old, after all, and I've put soooo much work into him. He can go like a grown-up if I do my bit. I concentrated really hard on asking him to raise his forehand and move more under himself, and he felt different but amazing as we headed into the ring.

The rail went on forever. It was extremely busy, with Arabs in all directions. I passed others twice and then somehow we found a perfect bubble and just stayed there for the entire rail, never getting squashed behind anyone. That can make or break a class like this and much of it was sheer dumb luck. It does also help when we have a very big class because most horses will eventually get annoyed with other horses passing or circling, but not Lancey. He ponies Wynnie out all the time---short of actually climbing on top of him, none of our classmates could do anything like what she does on a regular basis.

The judge called us all to walk and started picking us out of the lineup. He pulled Lancey out first, so I took a respectful spot somewhere near the middle, thinking he'd merely pulled us because we happened to go by him early.

The judge came over and shooed me up to the other end of the arena, and I suddenly realized, like a thunderclap, that we were winning.

My brain dribbled out of my ears at this point. I sat there with my mouth hanging open as the other riders---professional riders on champion horses---lined up all to our left. Lancey cocked a foot and went to sleep. DH was bouncing up and down on the stands, smile lighting up the whole world the way it always does.

there's always time for a Dome milkshake

We still had a test to get through, and the judge explained a simple one to keep the class short: walk away, trot a little, change rein in trot, change rein again with some walk in the middle, canter from the walk, canter down the long side, trot, and halt. It wasn't complicated, which instantly worried me. Lancey's great hallmark is his obedience; the more tricky the test, the more he stands out. I would have to ride for my life if we wanted to cling onto a ribbon in this class.

My blood was pounding in my ears when we rode out of the lineup. I wasn't falling to bits---I didn't have that horrible dead-jellyfish feeling like in previous years at the Supremes---but I definitely felt the pressure of being at the top of this gigantic class. (I was also completely flabbergasted, which didn't help). However, we kept it together. We trotted nicely. We walked nicely. He stepped up into the canter with tremendous obedience but perhaps not as much balance and power as he could have if I'd set him up a little better. It was all fine.

You don't win a class like this on "fine." You win it on "perfect," which is what the second-placed horse---ridden by the nice man who rented me the costume---delivered. I was unsurprised when they called him out for the first-place ribbon, but still completely amazed when they called us out second.

The judge adored Lancey. He said he was "perfectly schooled," but the canter transition of the first-placed horse was better. I knew it was and was still over the moon with our second place. I had him throw his toes a bit in the lap of honour and DH was just about losing his mind in excitement. That's a moment I won't forget for a long, long time, I can tell you.

We headed back to the stables for two more classes. Lanceyboy was still being absolutely wonderful. He was by no means flat or tired, just the same happy, contented boy he'd been all show long. There just aren't many horses in the whole world like this one, and knowing him is a breathtaking privilege, ribbons or no ribbons. Every single time he saw me at this show, he whinnied. It was the cutest thing in the world.

We joked that he did better than the previous day because we'd bought him organic carrots and apples from Woolworths, where the fancy folks shop around here, the night before. Woolworths carrots clearly make your horse more fancy than normal carrots.

The next class was senior hunter pleasure. I still don't know what that is, but I give it my best shot every time. I plaited him up, exchanged the double for a Kimberwick, and scrambled aboard. He goes okay in the Kimberwick---perhaps not as collected as I can get him in the double, but the whole point of hunter pleasure is to go low and forward, so that was fine. We had a quick warmup, practicing our hand gallop, and headed in with a large, strong class. Lancey and I led the way. It's always a bit spooky being the first horse into the Dome, especially in hunter pleasure, where you trot in on the opposite rein to the other classes. But Lanceycorn stormed in there at a bold, flying trot, making me grin all over my face.

We had a different judge for this one, a nice American lady. I never remember how these classes go, so I just listened to the announcer. We trotted, cantered, hand galloped, and then walked. (My dressage soul says that when the judge says "hand gallop" and then says "walk" one must execute a gallop to walk without trotting; Lancey is delighted to oblige, causing great consternation behind us). I forgot which way round to turn (I'm still not sure which way it is, tbh) and we did the same on the other rein.

DH was super pumped after our prior victories. At dressage, he chills on the grandstand, taking video, mildly bored. During this class, he was right on the rail with all the owners. The owners were yelling encouragement and instructions to the riders. DH, who I suppose could classify as Lancey's owner (he refers to him as "Pa se perd," Daddy's horse), was soon shouting at me to pick up Lancey's head. I was mildly surprised by this---he's never tried to coach me before---but obediently did so, and, watching the video, hubby was spot on. I did need to pick up his head. I'm still amused.

Also according to DH, one of the stud owners in the crowd told someone else in the crowd that if the judge didn't place Lancey, she was insane. He told me this very passionately afterward, but he needn't have worried. Lancey pinned fourth. Not too shabby at all.

As the evening rolled on, we gave Lancey a break and went to find a long-sleeved shirt for me to wear under my costume. Then we returned and tackled the mammoth task of putting our costume on. My bit was simple enough---I had to ditch the headdress because it didn't work over my helmet---but getting the breastplate and blanket adjusted right on Lancey took some figuring out. Eventually our friend S who runs a yard in town appeared and assisted, and a friendly lady in the warmup helped, and finally we were all aboard and riding around the warmup in full costume.

Lancey's worn a costume once before in his life, but also, I rode him on my wedding day in layers and layers of petticoats, so I wasn't worried. I didn't need to be. He didn't care at all that he had tassles and things flying all around him.

We did a short warmup to make sure he was happy to wear his outfit and then went to hang out in the chute, where we found another Arab friend---F, Gulfstream's mom---and chatted with her. Then they called us in for the geldings costume class.

This class is possibly the most fun I had all show, even if we didn't get anywhere, placings-wise. It's not a technically difficult class to survive in (winning it is obviously a different matter)---you canter in, remember to do no trotting, and then just go really fast when they tell you to hand gallop. Lancey led the way once more, boldly cantering into the arena, and we even managed a little acceleration for hand gallop bit. Once my dressage rider self made peace with the face that the costume flaps and makes you feel like it's you that's flapping, all was well.

It was so much fun. Of course, I wasn't expecting ribbons. I wasn't in my full costume, for one thing, and for another, one is supposed to emulate a fierce Bedouin prince galloping across the desert to intimidate his enemies. Lancey is many things, but fierce and intimidating are not among those things. We rode the championship because we were fifth out of five (and therefore technically in the top five) and had the time of our lives.

He was sweaty and a bit breathless from all the galloping but still chipper as ever when we returned to our stable and gave him a very well-earned dinner and rest. After sleeping over with Erin's parents, who were so kind to us (and Erin's cat cuddled my husband all night), we got an early start the next morning and brought His Lanceyness home. He loaded and traveled like the perfect angel he is and trotted off into the field without a care in the world, tail flagging, feet flying.

Thus ended one of my favourite ever memories. I'll cherish this show for a long time, especially because of my little white unicorn and my dream-supporting favourite person in the world.

God is so good.