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.