The Riding Journal – Pt. I

In my hands is an old-fashioned black notebook, hardbound and very businesslike. It is the first of my riding diaries… part homework… part punishment… part work of reference… and while it is now beloved, I detested this book as a girl.

 

For as long as I can remember being able to read, I have written. My diaries, spanning more than forty-five years, began when I received one as a gift on my eighth Christmas. These are strange reading nowadays, knowing what I know, as the pages are filled with horsey quotes that struck my fancy, notes on the fierce power of the weather… and all the thoughts of our ponies and horses. Or so I imagined.

 

Each Christmas, I looked forward to a new diary, a whole year’s worth of possibility in its smooth pages, each one covered with a different Chinese silk. Keeping these was a ritual each night before I turned my light out. Keeping diaries felt as though I had control of my life. They were a small addiction with a comforting payoff. They were my fun.

 

All that changed early in November, 1979.

I was fifteen years old. The school bus had no sooner deposited me at the end of the driveway, listlessly traipsing along with my books, when my mother called from the house.

 

“Hurry up, get out of your school clothes,” she said. “You’ll want to go riding.”

 

Now, that was weird… in all my life, Mum had never, once urged me to get out to the horses. Nevertheless, I downed my Pop Tart, ignored The Mod Squad’s siren call and donned my boots and breeches. It was while I was settling into my close contact Hermes copy – these saddles were all the rage, then – that I noticed a green and wood-paneled station wagon slowly coming down our tree-lined drive way. My life was about to change.

 

A grey-haired, almost mannish woman stepped out of the car. Dressed in a quilted jacket, unusual riding trousers and paddock boots, she proceeded to light the first of many cigarettes and ignore me entirely.

 

“Mrs. Donk-in!” she greeted my mother and in her heavy German accent, “This is the girl?” When mother nervously nodded yes and proceeded to introduce me, the stranger simply cut her off and bid her to get me riding. “I will watch and let you know if she’s worth teaching.”

 

So far, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I steered Monty, my chestnut gelding, out across the pasture and did my best to pass what was obviously an audition. I had no clue as to what to show her or indeed, what this abrupt woman was even looking for. I must have bumbled along, somehow, as the following week I was accepted as her newest student. I made the first entry in what was to become my mandatory – and much reviled – riding journal.

 

Looking back, I think that perhaps my teacher was ahead of her time. She knew that for so many of us, learning is amplified when we see, hear, do and then, write it all down.

 

“DRESSAGE LESSONS with Mrs. Boerschmann” by Lee Duncan, age 15.

November 15, 1979. The first lesson. On Ali. I am not to ride Monty any more, at least until I have ridden all the others. He is too hard and bracey, for now, and will only make me the same. Until I have learned to ride softly, he is to be my last choice, or I will ruin everything I ride. (Ali as our choice of mount was an interesting one, as the Arab gelding had been newly given to me, along with his confirmed habits of rearing over backwards and running away. I was to be in for a bit of a rough time with him. It would be nine or ten months before the horse could be trusted to canter.)

 

The first thing we did was change how I groomed Ali. Starting at the nearside of his neck, one swipe with the body brush on the horse, then a swipe across the curry comb in my other hand. Ten of these, before the curry comb is to be knocked on the aisle floor. Mrs. B wants to see ten dumps of the curry comb before I saddle up… which is doable only if I have a dirty horse! (That got stroked out as cheekiness by my teacher the following week. I learned to stick to the facts. There are many pages of handling the feet and legs, care of the tail, correct saddling procedure and adjusting the bridle before I get to the riding stuff.)

 

We have had to fasten one German side rein, the kind with the big rubber donut, from Ali’s cavesson loosely down to the girth between his front legs. This will not force his head down but will softly bounce up and down as he moves, reminding him to stay grounded with each step. This will help him whenever he has the urge to start rearing. I am to help him by lightly asking him to bend with the inside rein, held just slightly higher than the outside rein. When he softens, even just slightly, I am to reward him with praise and release. I want only to see his inside eyelashes, no more.

 

A horse cannot be asked to bend roundly, from back to front – this is called longitudinal bend – until he understands the bending from side to side – which is called lateral bend.  Never ask for the one before the other! I am to practice this giving, feeling and releasing when we are unmounted, or when we are mounted while standing still – so long as this doesn’t make Ali rear. If it does, we will have to work on this while he is moving forward.

 

I will help him move forward by rising to the trot and ‘opening the back of the knee’. This ‘pop’ encourages a lazy horse to move on from behind. (I wouldn’t have called Ali ‘lazy’ but Mrs. B was emphatic that his nervousness and acting out did not define the term ‘knowing how to work’.) I am to ride with the goal of lengthening my irons by three holes but this will happen gradually, when I have a better saddle and have spent enough time on the lunge.

 

My left hand is far stronger than my right.

This will eventually show up as rein lameness in my horses. The cure is to work modelling clay for ten minutes, morning and night, in my right hand only. I also drop my left shoulder while I ride. Because I can’t feel this bad habit, I am to check where my elbows touch my hip bones and fix it myself. Mrs B. says she will not tell me twice. (I learned, early on, she was not one for idle threats.)

 

Mounting is to be done as if one is setting on eggs. To land any heavier is to keep the horse’s back muscles from staying relaxed. We practiced mounting at length, with the right hand moving up to the offside pommel and therefore, the saddle staying straight. If Ali was taller or if I was older, it would be correct to use a mounting block. As it is, it is good for me to learn to do this right.

 

When mounted, both feet are either in the stirrups or both feet are dropped out. Never ride with one and the other. We have measured and ordered a new saddle as the one I am using has nothing under my leg when I am placed correctly on the horse. If my leg isn’t long, the horses won’t be persuaded to ‘swing’ through and bend. This mysterious thing begins in the stifle but the rider’s leg asks just back of the girth. A shorter stirrup uses the ankle and heel as a pressure point, instead of the large, pulsing area of the entire leg.

 

With closed eyes, I am to practice ‘the bridle exercise’ until I can feel when my hands have an equal effect on the reins. If they do not, even the slightest unevenness will cause the bit and bridle to hang crookedly from its peg.

 

November 18, 1979. On Ali.

I had two lessons today, the first on Ali, the second on Monty. Ali is lighter and I have not ruined him yet. (I was learning to get a very thick skin. Criticism was to be noted and quietly accepted, without tears, drama or debate.) I was promptly sent back to the house at the start, to properly clean my boots before my lesson. This was my last warning or my teacher will go home and my poor mother will still have to pay!

 

After my boots were cleaned, it was explained why we don’t ride with dirty boots. It is disrespectful to the teacher and to the horse. It does not allow us to see where our legs are positioned while we are riding. We don’t want to see the horse’s oily dirt gathering near the back seam of the boot. If so, we are turning our toes out and pushing the horse on like a vice grip. Instead, we want our entire leg to gently wrap around the horse.

 

Ali rewarded us by bending softly in and dropping his nose when I asked with the inside rein. Today, I worked on the second part by asking him to stay soft and round with the outside rein. It is very hard because my horse is upset while learning and I am just figuring things out, too. All of this is on the walk, with very little trotting… and still, I am tired. This is the blind leading the blind and I understand what this means now.

 

Never use oil on saddlery. Spit and glycerine will give the leather the ‘tack’ needed to sit well. This because Mrs. B has left her Kieffer ‘Zugspitz‘ with me to use until my saddle comes in from New York. It is very much narrower through the seat than my own. I have a stretching pain from my groin down through my legs because it is making me drop my knees.

 

When using the reins, the rider must be feeling flexible all the way through to the elbow.

The elbow is key, so use the joints! One cannot ask a horse softly with stiff bone, ever. I kept one foot in and one foot out again, after being told not to last week. My punishment is to buy Ali a bag of carrots and slice them lengthwise. Unsliced carrots can cause choke. Instead of making Ali bend to his soft or hollow side, he will be given a carrot out of the saddle, always to his stiff side. Mrs. B says this will improve very quickly! (Of course, she was right.)

 

On Monty. My left hand is so much stronger that I have Monty actually leaning on that rein. Today, we were learning about turning off the outside rein. Never the inside! I must also remember to straighten my inside leg a bit while turning. This frees up the horse but still shows him that he needs to turn. I keep forgetting INSIDE REIN FIRST, OUTSIDE REIN SECOND. Never both at the same time. The inside leg is always at the girth, the outside one slightly behind the girth, not pushing the quarters but encouraging the horse to bend.  I am feeling discouraged today. There is so much to learn.

 

December 9, 1979. On Ali. Remember to stretch the skin out from under the girth at the horse’s elbows. Bend the knee as in picking out the feet, then gently draw the forearm forward. The horse will sigh when he has felt the stretch. The saddle must sit just behind the shoulder. There is an indent there and the saddle will ‘click’ back into place. Dressage or jumping, there is no excuse for saddling too far forward!

 

Bring my legs back from the hip but keep the knees open and my stirrup leathers vertical. I must keep reminding myself to use the inside of the calf muscle and not the lazy way, with the heel. During my warm up, I am to reach both arms above my head to stretch my body tall.

 

Another reminder: all the feeling in riding is done with the joints.

Keep the joints ‘open’ as you cannot feel with bone. Good hands are a bit of a lie! The feel can not come from the fingers or the wrists because to do so will tense our shoulders and elbows. We must ride with soft elbows and then, voila, we will have softened our hands.

 

Remember, feed any carrots from the saddle on the stiff side. On the circle to the soft (or hollow) side, look out over the outside ear of the horse. Ride him forward with the inside leg to have him striding long with the inside hind. On the stiff side of the horse, look towards the direction of your circle, making a point of really changing your legs. Knowing this will help bend the horse a lot.

 

Today was the first lesson where I started to ride with my arms correctly. Ali responded by reaching to the bit, softly, softly, going to the best of his ability. His trot has changed. For the first time, we were in balance. It felt like he was sliding on rails! His trot tempo has slowed but this is to be encouraged. He is starting to want to relax. I was reminded to never push on a newly-swinging horse or pony. Ponies, especially, have to change their rhythm to make a horse-like swing. They must slow down in order to move large and if they are driven on, they will only rush.

 

Once the horse starts swinging through from behind, really working to the best of his ability, there is no need to keep asking him to go on the bit. He will crave the sensation and will seek it on his own. If we have to force or keep asking, we are merely pulling on the reins. We are wrong and need to always check the attitude of the horse. A swinging horse will be ears up, springy, full of softly pulsing life. The horse will say when we are right.

 

I am fifteen years old. Today’s the first time I’ve really ridden a horse… and not just sat on top.

 

Thank you for joining me in a ride down memory lane. This was the start of my riding journal (a practice I still maintain) with the most influential teacher thus far in my life. She was not a riding coach but a mentor… through every. single. thing. I remember about horses. I see that I have forgotten a lot, that I have become slack and have sometimes strayed too far from her guiding principle of the well-being of the horse. This must be why I am again reading this journal, focusing on my eager yearning for knowledge, skipping lightly over the entries of frustration and teenage angst. To be continued.

 

Please share with us some pearl of wisdom, a golden nugget taught to you by an influential teacher in your life. Cheers for now, Lee.