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