It's All About the Horses

​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?

But there were good times, too. Finishing my first (and last, as it turned out) Intermediate 3-Day when events were full phase with roads and tracks and (yippee!) steeplechase. Having a trial run around a point-to-point course in England. Although I’ve never had the privilege of racing James Bond’s car, I imagine that galloping toward one of those towering 4’6” brush jumps in stirrups about a foot long would be similar to blasting one of his technically overloaded cars at a brick wall and hoping that the rocket launcher worked. Thrilling, with a smidgeon of fear, just to keep you honest. Then there's been the satisfaction of schooling technically challenging cross country obstacles and finally getting it right. And the simple satisfaction of giving young horses confidence when schooling their first water/ditch/bank/you name it.
 
So, back to the question. How did I get from those good (and not so wonderful) horsey times, to what I’m doing now? Well, now, the horses, dog and I spend long days traipsing through the mountains, sleeping out in bear country, cooking over a fire, and enjoying the wild parts of this wonderful country that we live in. Not bad, eh? It just happens that the horses are not very broke and spend more time walking than anything else. 
 
When I heeded my mother’s advice and left a riding ‘career’ (more lifestyle and survival), for a real job (her words) many years ago, I left behind the opportunity to further my eventing skills. While it’s certainly possible to be a successful amateur while building a career external to horses, let’s face it, it’s extremely difficult to develop the skills you need to be a superstar. You need to be riding five or more horses per day. And you need professional help. And you need to compete. A lot. So when I drifted north to follow my self-made rule that to be a ‘real’ British Columbian, you had to have lived in a small town in the north, I ended up quitting horses. Briefly.
 
After six years completing a four year degree (time runs slower up here) and finally getting a ‘real’ job, I lived my dream and bought my own horse. I’d never owned one. What I bought was an off the track thoroughbred who was three years older than the seller said, with a lousy hock. These days you wouldn’t be able to give her away, but she was mine, and she could jump. Always looking for that elusive eventing superstar, I went through a few horses. Some could jump, do dressage, or had great work ethics, and some weren’t much of anything. One I broke three times and he still wanted to buck (the new owner says he still does). After bashing my head against the horsey wall, a brief stint in Alberta and a three year horse-free hiatus in Australia, I returned to northern BC. And I finally got the message that northern BC is not, and never will be, an event, jump or dressage rider’s mecca. So why don’t I get with the program and buy a trail horse? Preferably one that sorts cattle.
 
So I went horse shopping. Again.
My previous criteria had been:
1) Is it sound in body (and will its conformation encourage it to stay that way)?
2) Is it sound in mind (ie does it have a brain)?
3) Can it jump (in good form)?
4) Can it move (preferably well, at all four paces)?

​My new criteria was:
1) Is it a paint, dun/palomino or something interesting (but not appy)? I’d always wanted a coloured horse, so what the heck.
2) Is it broke? After the started-3-times-and-still-bucking routine, I didn’t feel like starting one.
3) Is it shorter than 15.1? There aren’t many mounting blocks in the bush.
4) Is it named Sunny or Flash? You laugh. I’m not joking. 
 
The horse I bought straight out of a field, for cash with no receipt and I don’t know the guy’s last name, was Sunny (honest, that was his name). A 3 year old, 14.3 just-broke paint, who has ‘cow’. Perfect. Except four months later he was kicked in the knee, had 10 months off and is now worth triple his purchase price with no additional training, due to vet bills. That’s horses.
 
Meanwhile, I traded my dressage saddle for a western trail saddle, and followed a longterm dream. I learned to pack! Then I bought an even less likely event horse – a draft cross who I’ve never seen canter. She’s none too smart, but is sweet enough and seems to like her job of following along as a beast of burden. Finally, I truly broke away from my past life and sold my close contact saddle. It’s funny how those things affect you. A bit like turning 40. The build up to the moment is pretty stressful, but when it’s all said and done, you’re the same person, just moving on in life.
 
My next trick? Buying a packing rig. Both Sunny (the brains) and Molly (the brawn) are slated for pack trips. The mountains are calling, as they always have. This time I’ve decided to heed the call - with horses.
 
So the long answer to a short question is that there are lots of ways to enjoy horses, and I’m just exploring the options. Do I see myself riding performance horses in the future? Not anytime soon, but I’d never say never. What I would say is that it’s not about performance or clinics, lessons or showing, it’s about those four legged critters that us horsey people just can’t get out of our blood. It’s all about the horses.
Here's a photo of Sunny (left) and Molly (right) enjoying a September trip into Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park. They've both since found new homes, and I'm still packing.