Dressage Gauteng Champs 2025

 I'm writing this post many many months after the fact, but not for the usual reasons. In fact, this post contains a little bit of news that I was waiting to share until it felt right. I couldn't quite do this story and these memories justice without it, so here we are, talking about this ages and ages later.

After our scintillating Advanced debut at Penbritte in June, the logical next step was to aim for Gauteng Champs in August. Arwen had never gone so well in her life. The test was tough: 4-3 is a long way from 4-1, with actual pirouettes and tempis in it. But we buckled down at home and made it happen. Are the tempis and piros really polished? Not even a little. Is the rest of the work totally solid? Absolutely. I wanted to do it, so we went out and did it. As you may have noticed, I overthink a little less these days.

Another reason why I was really motivated to go out and make it happen was that we'd received news that meant I would have to shelve riding at the higher levels for a little while. After much anticipation and hope, DH and I are finally expecting our first.

The Internet is a weird and dangerous place and certainly not suitable for babies and little children, so I won't be sharing much about our little one on here, but pregnancy is part of my story and I'd like to honor it.

This is an intimate part of the story of 2025's Gauteng Dressage Champs, because when the big day rolled around, I was nine weeks pregnant and in the throes of a truly horrible first trimester. Delighted by the existence of the tiny little peanut, overwhelmingly excited for the journey ahead, and also constantly throwing up and exhausted. That thing they say about "morning" sickness? It's not. It's really not. Totally worth it, totally sucks. But dressage gave me something to focus on, something to motivate me to get outside and do healthy things, even if we needed to double up on sports bras and wince through most of the sitting trot and sometimes jump off to just lie in the shade and groan a little.

As we led up to the show, she grew more and more confident with the test. We had only one little whoops when she flew back while tied up (goodness only knows why) and pulled hard on her neck and poll. I may have panicked a little. I summoned our local bodyworker in great distress, only for her to come out, poke around Arwen's body, and shrug. There was nothing wrong with her. She got a nice massage for her troubles anyway.

Our preparation went swimmingly until I dropped my last sewing needle in a pile of hay while plaiting Arwen's mane. After several minutes on my hands and knees under her feet, I had no choice but to give up on that and do the last few plaits with elastics, which I always hate. Nonetheless, we bundled Arwen into the box that Thursday afternoon and set off for Kyalami full of excitement. I had luckily chosen that day to crave Kyalami Park's absolutely elite chicken strips, so that worked out pretty great. (Have you ever been absolutely bloody starving and simultaneously on the brink of vomiting? It's not fun.)

having had four kids, Arwen says I'm weak

Arwen was so chill that I was a little worried about her. She dozed by the box while I got ready and wondered where on earth my husband was with the lunch I was growing so desperate for. He returned ten minutes later, triumphant and bearing a hilarious story.

He'd arrived at the cafe and placed the usual order, but the server told him that they were out of chicken strips. Now, we are both introverted people who don't do confrontation. Usually, if a place is out of something, we get something else. But this time, DH moaned, "Oh, no. You're the ones who have to tell my pregnant wife that she can't have her chicken strips."

They must have seen the light of desperation in his eyes, because the ladies at the cafe immediately sent a luckless young cashier all the way up to the big restaurant at the other end of Kyalami Park Club. I got my strips. They were the best thing I'd tasted in weeks.

Thus satiated, I hopped on my extremely relaxed horse and proceeded to the warmup. (Why did I feel way better with a bellyful of fat and carbs? Girl, idk. I was eating steak and kidney pies at 7am but gagging at the thought of water or crackers or any of the things you're supposed to eat. Pregnancy is wild).

All day long, Arwen was an absolute pleasure in every way. We were so harmonious in the warmup that it was actually a little freaky. She was spicy and energized, but not in a let's-chuck-you-off kind of way, more in a this-extended-trot-is-absolutely-LIT way. I was grinning all over my face when we finished our warmup. I'd never felt her that amazing before. Also, pregnancy mood swings are a thing. Apparently my hormones were set to "delighted" that day, which certainly helped.

The steady low-grade discomfort---the sore boobs, the nausea, the near-constant need to pee---evaporated just for a little while as hubs helped me into my beautiful tailcoat (back in the days when I could still wear normal people clothes) and we headed into the ring.

We were in the Members Arena, DH was watching, and I had the most wonderful little passenger riding right along with us. It was a moment I won't ever forget. After the bell rang I took a few moments just to soak it all in, the glory of it all. Life on this side of Heaven is a weird mix of the glorious and the fallen, and pregnancy is no exception, but that was one of the Heaven moments, one of those instances when the sheer joy and beauty and glory of God bursts through in a way that nothing can stifle.

Then we were cantering down the centreline like we belonged there, and that day, we absolutely freaking did.

Nothing was particularly spectacular---and the judge was not into anything that wasn't a 5, 6, or 7---but we made no big mistakes, which, for our first bid at 4-3, was pretty epic. I juggled the halt a little badly and we landed a bit crooked for 6.5, "more straight in halt." She soared through her medium trot, as much as 14.3 hands of tubby Nooitie can soar, leaving the judge unimpressed for 6.5, "more airtime" (ma'am pls how much more airtime do you think this little animal has in her?)

Our shoulder-ins and half-passes and first extended trot were solid, long string of 6.5s, the judge asking for more bend right and a freer shoulder in the extension. Her rein-back was obedient but she ducked hard behind the bit for 6.5, "steady halt, very deep in rein-back". She popped back up again, thankfully without any difficulty, and pulled out a 7.0 for the next shoulder-in and a 6.5 for the half-pass and then listened for once into the collected walk for another 7.0.

This started a walk tour that blessedly does not include any stupid turns on the haunches. I'm so over those, not gonna lie. I'd rather do twenty canter pirouettes. We still managed to get a bit tense and weird at the end of the extended walk for 6.0, then anticipated the canter for 6.5.

Arwen LIKES the 4-3 canter work, which is to say that keeping a lid on it is not simple. We rushed in the medium canter for 6.0, but got things together and half-passed for 6.5, "more bend," then headed into our first canter pirouette in competition. I felt her lose the rhythm a bit and tried to help her out but my general ineptitude was fairly obvious for 5.5, "together behind for one step." 

She did, however, remain super quietly on my aid and listening into the flying change, which was 7.0 despite being our difficult rein. The judge wanted more bend in our next half-pass but still gave us 6.5. I followed this by completely ruining the next pirouette for 5.0, "together behind throughout." She sits really well and understands the trick---Arwen loves her tricks---but actually doing it properly is still a work in progress.

The next flying change was smooth again for 6.5, and we redeemed ourselves in the extended canter for another 6.5. Then we had to scrape ourselves up for the three-tempis.

These are hit and miss. Sometimes we absolutely nailed them at home, through, steady, collected. Sometimes I completely fail at the timing. Sometimes she gets hopelessly overexcited. These were a bit more miss than hit, but we fuddled our way through them for 5.5, "jumping together behind." The tempis also have the effect of lighting the dragon like one of those flaming Chinese rockets from Mulan, so I piloted my rocket down the centreline with a certain amount of difficulty, still managing a square and immobile halt for 6.5, "fairly straight, not quite on centreline."

I couldn't possibly have been happier with her. I knew we'd made our share of mistakes in the difficult movements, but we'd been working together with every step. She gave me a feeling of total harmony; even when she was hot and fizzy, she took me there with her. It was amazing. I was grinning so hard as I rode out of the arena that a passing coach remarked I was the happiest person at the show. I said that she would be, too, if she had an Arwen.

We had our first official bit check in competition right after that, which consisted mostly of the official laughing at the daylight she could see under my noseband, and then went to greet hubby, who knew from my face that things had gone well and was already as proud as could be.

Arwen was happy to chill at the horsebox (who is this woman?) while I hurried off to check our scores. To my delight, the judge had liked us, and it showed in the collectives. Let the record reflect, now and forever, that a barely-more-than-pony Nooitie is perfectly capable of earning a 7.0 on paces at freaking Fourth Level. We got a 6.5 on impulsion, 5.5 for submission, 7.0 for rider position, and 6.0 for aids.

"Horse showing ability," the judge commented, "but at times could show a little more." Couldn't we all?

That was good enough for 62.778%, considerably more than I'd expected for our first ever trip at 4-3. Better yet, we placed 7th out of 24 in a whole class full of warmbloods and professionals. I was absolutely stoked, to say the very least. We'd only come to the show to ride, with no illusions of getting anywhere, but we found ourselves through to the championships.

The championship day was the Saturday. I could have schooled the piros and tempis on Friday, but I felt that we weren't going to fix them in one ride and messing with them more might make my brain fall out, so we just had an easy stretchy ride and hack that day.

Saturday rolled around with a whole different mood attached. My hormones had decided that this was the day to be unbelievably overstimulated and mad at everything that moved, even though I sewed her plaits in and she looked nice. Arwen is used to my general emotional instability and didn't bat an eyelash at me. Hubby plied me with snacks, and Erin showed up with a giant bouquet of flowers, because everyone in the world should be lucky enough to have a friend like Erin.

This buoyed my mood considerably and I was feeling better, albeit on the verge of puking and probably needing to pee as I did 24/7 for about six weeks back there, when I scrambled into the saddle.

To her credit, Arwen was perfect. She strolled off to the warmup on a loose rein, chill and ready---maybe a little more chill than I would have liked.

I soon discovered that the only thing more chaotic than a warmup arena full of little kids jumping around on ponies is a warmup arena full of upper-level dressage riders. You never know where somebody's going to go next. Lateral work gets right of way, sure, but that's absolutely no good when literally everyone is shoulder-inning and half-passing all over the place. Pirouettes complicate everything; the horse and rider that was peacefully cantering away from you six strides ago are now barreling towards you and doing flying changes everywhere.

the photographers did not capture one single extended trot lol

DH also went to find the relatives who'd come to watch (the family support is honestly amazing 💜💜). I didn't know this and thought he had disappeared into the ether. Erin appeared in the nick of time with something cold to drink and instructions to look up, but I had broken our tempis hopelessly (as you do in the warmup for a championship test) and can't do those without looking, so her good advice fell upon deaf ears. Also I kind of wanted to throw up. It wasn't good.

Arwen, however, was extremely good. As usual, she was coming through for me when I was operating at like 50%. Erin wrestled me into my tailcoat and I took a deep breath as we reached the arena and I spotted DH, instantly making my life much better. I had a lot of hormones to contend with and every inch of my body wanted me to be angry and upset with the universe, but at the end of the day, I was on the best horse in the whole world, flaunting the tails we'd worked our butts off for, with a lot of people who loved me watching.

There wasn't a lot I could do about my mood, but I could still be pretty dang grateful in that moment. I picked up my reins and my wonderful dragon glanced around the massive atmosphere of the Peter Minnie on championship day and said, "Just hold on. I got you." And she did.

To be completely frank, in the (many) intervening months, I totally misplaced the tests. I know that we made a few little mistakes. The tempis came to bits completely - in all honesty, those are still unbelievably hard for me, and I need to be really switched on to make them happen, which I was not - but the pirouettes felt a little better and the single changes were smooth and lovely.

The best part was that, once again, Arwen was right there with me. She was not only responding to all my aids and really listening even through moments of anticipation, but she covered my mistakes at times, stayed cool when I stuffed it up, and offered me so much more than I genuinely deserved for how well I was riding. It wasn't smooth and fluid and easy the way it had been that Thursday, but we were in harmony. Connected, communicating---dancing, if not very well.

The marks surprised me a little. We got 59 from one judge and 58 from the other, not with any dramatically bad moments, just a general decrease in the overall quality. My more lackadaisacal riding had everything to do with it (and judges are always just a little more cranky on championship day). But it didn't matter.

We'd earned our tails and we'd come out---a pregnant amateur on a little round 19-year-old Nooitie---and shown that we deserved to be in this level. We might not have lit the world on fire, but we did our tests in harmony, with lightness, with ease. None of it felt hard on her; the mistakes were largely mine.

It felt like dancing. It felt like dressage.

It'll be a long time before I fit into that tailcoat again, but I'll never forget the awesome privilege of wearing it on the horse who carried me all the way from Training to Fourth against all odds, or the endless support from the tribe we've gathered along the way.

God is good.

             

A little throwback: our mutual first Prelim, 2014, and our Advanced, 2025

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

Horse of the Year 2025 Part 4: Supremes

 The whirlwind that was Saturday left me exhausted in every bone of my body, but thanks to our lovely relatives who live near KPC, we had an excellent night's sleep and headed to the park on Sunday morning with pep in our step (albeit very sore legs, in my case). Steve had opted to overnight with us and hang all Sunday morning, which was lovely.

KPC really pulled out all the stops to make this a convenient and hospitable Horse of the Year. They established a gorgeous big marquee tent between the Stubbs and McHardy arenas, which meant that we no longer had to trek all the way across the park to get snacks or coffee. I drank way too many iced chocolatey things. 100/10, please do that again, KPC.

After feeding Rene and Arwen---who had had a lovely, peaceful evening, judging by the amount of straw and poo stains all over them---we grabbed another chocolatey thing and wandered off to watch the pre-judging. I admired one of my all time favourite show horses, a snazzy grey Welsh pony imported from, well, Wales. He'd won the Supremes before, and though he didn't this year, I've seen his offspring at many a SANESA show absolutely kicking butt. He's certainly on my list to breed nice ponies at some point.

We had plenty of time before the working riding supremes, but I was already sweating. Twice now we've won the working riding in fine style and then each time I've absolutely choked in the supremes. They hold the supreme championships in the Bob Charter, possibly the most well-known outdoor arena in Southern Africa, which is enormous and has these gigantic grandstands all around it. It's an intimidating atmosphere, especially with everyone watching. I feared I would choke again.

Luckily for me, I have Erin, who has recently qualified in psychology. So I texted her. She said she had fifteen minutes. "It's not a conventional session," she said, "but it's not like we need to establish rapport." (I should hope not---we've been besties for more than a decade). I bought her a coffee and scrambled down to the parking lot. We piled into Erin's adorable Jimny and she gave me a crash course in not crapping myself in the Bob Charter via this incredible therapy called BWRT. I had it with a different psychologist down in Ballito during hubby's very traumatic time in hospital and found it to be pretty bloody magical, so for anyone struggling with a specific trauma or thought pattern, go find someone who does BWRT. It's not invasive, there's no hypnotism, and the effects are instant. Love it.

Anyway, fifteen minutes of therapy later, Erin ejected me from her car to get on with her actual job of the day (turning out horses) and I scrambled off to get Arwen. I felt instantly and completely better. I had earlier rated my anxiety about showing in the Bob at a three out of five with the sort of paralytic feeling that always makes me ride like a dead jellyfish. I now felt a happy buzz of anticipation at the thought.

With time to kill and Madam Dragon growing restless about being stuck in the stable, Steve and I saddled the mares and took them for a hack around KPC. To our surprise, half of the venue was suddenly full of showjumpers. It seemed that a jumping show was in full swing. I've never sat on my showing horse to watch a huge big showjumping class before, but it was pretty cool.

Arwen was really good for this hack. Historically she has been an absolute menace when I attempt a quiet little walk-around, but though she clearly had plenty of energy, she was very obedient. We practiced lots of halting and standing still at the barrels being used as rubbish bins. We did not kick any of the big expensive horses who came charging past us.

After our hack, I let her chill in the stable with lucerne and water for a while and went to the show office to ask for the working riding test---which you may remember we had to get at the office last year and I had no idea and had to ask someone in the lineup to tell it to me. This year, the judge would give us the test in the arena, which is how it's almost invariably done. I was relieved to hear it but very glad I went to check just in case.

Finally, I did the finishing touches on Arwen's turnout and headed to the warmup with loads of time to spare. I was terrified that the class would run early like it did last year, so we had rather more time than we needed, but it was all good. We did lots of halting and had a bit of dancing around at first but she was absolutely perfect when we headed over to wait in the shade for our class. Rene called to Arwen once or twice, but Arwen totally ignored her. I was really relieved about this after the Midas debacle at Penbritte. (Midas has since found the most wonderful and perfect home).

We relaxed in the shade while the class before us finished up and Erin came to put finishing touches on Arwen. We teased that she needs to start a business for therapy and turnout at shows called Shrink 'n Shine: Turning Him Out and Tuning You In. (It's a winner, I tell you, she'll make her millions).

Then we headed into the Bob Charter. As usual, we were third in the lineup. Arwen immediately knew where we were and what we were about to do. She pulled me into the lineup with pricked ears while a few of the others wanted to spook or nap at the intimidating Bob Charter entrance. Not the dragon. She has stuff to do.

We found a nice friend in the lineup and Arwen was content to stand on a loose rein as the judge told us the test. It was in, the best traditions of Supremes, not as simple as it looked. It started with trotting over poles on a curve, then we had to halt by a barrel, pick up a basket, and do a figure eight with it---first circle canter, second circle trot. That was a particularly technical little question because most advanced working riding horses would expect to do a change through trot, and it would be very easy to break to canter on the second circle.

Next, we lengthened the canter on a curve, then cantered into a lane and walked over a mat. Finally, we had another straw bale to jump over right next to the dyke they use for the Derby, which can be spooky.

I felt a thrill of excitement but no fear. The test lent itself well to the dragon; there were only two halts and the rest was a test of being bold, obedient, and on the aids, which is her jam. We'd historically struggled with trotting poles on a curve but we'd put in a ton of work with this at home, so I felt ready for it.

The first couple of horses went with our Boerperd friend going really excellently. Then we set off. Arwen trotted boldly out of the lineup without a glance back. I saw a dodgy line to the trotting poles and immediately had the presence of mind to fix it, which is the part where I realized that I'd conquered the Bob Charter. I was riding like a human being, not a dead jellyfish.

pictured: not a jellyfish

This realization thrilled me. The basket part of the test went perfect---she wanted to wiggle in the halt, but again I managed to disguise it. She didn't even think about doing a change through trot but listened perfectly to my aids and I did a bit of swinging the basket around her ears to show off the fact that she did not care.

The lengthened canter was good, and as we charged the mat, I thought I'd cut it a bit fine and have her walk shortly before the mat to show off her obedience. Arwen thought I wanted a halt, and when I gave her a little boot to keep her walking, she jogged. That was a bit of a bummer but an ordinary sort of error, not a paralyzed-with-terror error.

We cantered easily over the straw bale and I didn't halt and salute (not required, but it would have been correct) because I was too busy falling on her neck in delight. We'd done it. We'd finally pulled off a working riding test in the Supremes that I could be really proud of. It was one of those moments that makes you forget about stupid ill-timed lameness and falling off and catching escaped horses in the rain with one sock sliding off inside your boot. (Okay, maybe not that last one. It's hard to forget that one).

It was an extremely strong Supremes, so we were out of the placings, but at that point I just didn't care. We'd done everything I hoped to do. I rejoined DH, who was ready as always with a big hug and another one of those iced chocolatey things at the gate, and we all merrily wandered back to the stables.

We did a quick lap of the shopping area to buy Arwen a bag of the super cute iced horse treats they always have. She earned every single one of them.

It was super hot when we left, but thanks to my ingenious husband and the portable wash bay (which was truly the star of this HOY), we could soak both mares in cool water before loading them up and heading home. Truly exhausted, like after any HOY, but with my cup filled to the brim after a glorious weekend with amazing horses and incredible people.

God is so good.