Someone asked me recently how I went from eventing in Canada, the US and England to riding half-broke horses in the wilds of northern BC. Good question.
I’ve certainly done some not-so wonderful horsey things. Like galloping 14 race horses one morning and needing a groom to unbend my cramped fingers from around the reins so I could dismount. Or falling off three times in four days of foxhunting in England. Or when I decided that I’d watched enough polo, surely I knew how to play (not), galloped on the field, got T-boned and broke a collarbone. Or the Christmas Eve that I fell off and broke my foot. Which meant riding my half-broke 4 year old for 3 months while wearing a non-walking cast. Ever try to tack up a 16.3 wildie while on crutches? In snow?