UNH Fall Horse Trials

This was the weirdest horse trial experience for me yet. I guess the best way to describe the weekend was that my heart wasn't entirely in it, alternating with a whopping case of nerves. But now that it's over and the season's done, I'm not sure if I want to give up competing after all. It feels like Clover and I have some unfinished business to do—like place in the top three at Novice, and possibly even look to moving up to Training by the end of next season. I dunno. I have severe motivational issues to deal with, specifically lack of. I need sports psychotherapy. Better living through chemistry.

I was super nervous for dressage. Warming up was fine, aside from my stiffness. Clover was reacting to it, felt behind the leg, and was beginning to lean on the left side again. Still, she was carrying herself more at the canter. But, the judge wasn't impressed with our test, which was steady and consistent. Other than having small canter circles, the test was accurate, even the judge made that comment. But, she seemed to want me to over-bend Clover, and gave better marks to riders that allowed their horse's shoulders to bulge out. A 42.5 put us in the middle of the pack in 7th. I was disappointed, I had, even despite my nerves, expected to have a better score. My trainer thought the test was fine, and said that we deserved a better score.

Again I was nervous in the cross country warm up the next day. Clover was jumping fine, but not taking me to the fences as much as I wanted her to. She was slightly sticky a stride out. We got out on course, and galloped out of the box and over Heaven's Gate just fine. Clover settled into a strong gallop, only to stop dead about 15 feet out from fence 2, a small log stack roll top, the easiest fence on course. She was spooking at the fence judges. I quickly swatted her four times (abuse! abuse!) to get her attention back and get her over the damn fence. I chased her up the hill to the Reservoir View, and she managed to get in only the slightest hesitation as she went over it.

We got back to warp speed as we galloped over the bridge. I had my eye on the next line, a right bend into the woods. Clover had her eye on a couple of people with a baby carriage at the end of the bridge, and from a gallop spooked mightily to the right, causing me to lose my left stirrup. I maintained and got her wrestled down to a trot in time for the next combination, a 2-3 stride (depending on your horse's length of stride) that I planned on trotting into to get the striding between the hanging log and barn coop. I was still stirrupless, but managed to get it in 3 strides.

I used the track between the combination and the upcoming bank complex to get my stirrup back, and settled Clover back into a gallop. The Novice portion of the “Fort Briggs” bank complex was a ramp up/drop, followed by a sharp left turn to a tabled stone wall. The flag was snapping in the breeze and there were spectators about, but we navigated the bank and turn to the wall fine. It's my favorite part of the course. I kicked on to the stone wall, and we had a small galloping stretch en route to the ditch. Clover eyeballed the upturned tree again this year, but stayed forward and saved her spook for the couple at the edge of the woods, as we came out into the field. I growled something at her, and steered for the ditch. Clover seemed to look in to it at the last stride, and we wound up popping it as I wasn't about to let her pull any more crap. I was well fed up with the spooking at people on course—something she hadn't done since King Oak back in May.

After futzing the ditch, I had to correct our line coming into the vegetable stand, a rampy table with nothing to funnel you in to it. I put my shoulders back and widened my hands, preparing for any potential ducking or shoulder throwing on Clover's part. Again, as with the ditch, she took a long, hard look in the last stride, stood off and popped it. Again I quickly reorganized on landing as I was taking a short cut to get a good line into the water. Instead of staying on the road and taking a longer route, I rode between some trees and a Training ramp so I could cut the corner into the water. Clover hesitated at the water at the last second, but we stayed in motion and I rode her in, grabbed a handful of mane and drove her up and out the opposite side on a bending line to the right. I heard a couple of cheers from my pals, and rode on to the next fence, the ramp which I'd had a run out at the year before, when it was before the water jump. Now that it was after the water, I was able to ride Clover over it with no distractions.

I again settled Clover into a gallop and rode up the slightly inclined track to the sawmill, a sturdy but smaller brown coop. We continued up the hill, and I sat up a little as we made the turn into the Hort Farm, there had been some slips and slides there, but the studs in Clover's shoes held, and we made that turn and the next, a u-turn to Aaron's Jump, the large shark's tooth I'd been worried about last year. But again it rode fine, if not big, and as we galloped up field for the last two fences, I again chastized Clover verbally for looking hard at the fence judges. I had to just about cram her over the flying coop, and heard my watch go off as we approached the last fence. We cleared the last fence, a hanging telephone pole, and I hit the watch as we passed through the finish flags. Optimum time was 5:21. I had set my watch for 5:00, to give myself a little room, and I had stopped my watch as it counted up to :21—so I had come in right on time after all. I had made concerted efforts to check my watch several times over the course, and even though our pace was faster than Novice speed, the stop and me having to regain my stirrup mid-course had evened it all out.



Frankly, I was discouraged with our go. The stop at the second fence seemed to frustratingly stupid, yet I was powerless to kick Clover on—she had dropped out of a dead gallop and planted her feet. I don't think I bulldozer could have pushed her forward any, not til she'd gotten a good look-see at the fence judges. And even though I had ridden like a rabid jackrabbit over the course, there were several obstacles that Clover hesitated in front of, just enough to get me irked. Having come in at optimum hardly cheered me. It was a rough ride, and I rode every stride—I knew I could not rely on Clover to take me to the fences. It was not a good feeling.

A coughing fit added to my general state of malaise, and combined with the mediocre dressage score and hell-for-leather x-c ride, I was hardly in the mood to subject myself to the microscope of stadium, the phase where all your shortcomings come out as rails dropping. My trainer took pity on me, and gave us a quick warm up with a few reminders for me to not chase Clover to fences and to stay out of the saddle. The course was moderately difficult, with several bending lines that incorporated the pasture's hilly terrain.


I sucked it up and trotted out to salute the judge, and promptly buried Clover to the first fence, a natural vertical heading downhill. Our one and only rail fell, and I managed to cram Clover over the second fence, a sunburst panel that she looked hard at before popping over. I hauled her around to the right to make fence 3, an oxer with a back rail that came down for a lot of riders.



We rubbed it hard, and I assumed it came down but didn't look, as I was to busy trying to make the bending line to fence 4, a set of back and white square rails set on FLAT cups, at the crest of a hill. We had a rub there, too, but by some miracle, the rails stayed up unbeknownst to me.



We landed and I whipped Clover around, a quick u-turn to fence 9, a white up hill vertical. I was concerned about getting a good line to the fence, as I'd seen some riders over shoot the turn. My trainer said that she would not have made so sharp a turn as I had, but again the studs held and we got over the fence fine. Well, as fine as a horse looking at the spectators on the rail next to the fence can be. We made the right angle turn to the last fence, and I sat down on Clover too soon, before she landed, and caused her to have another hard rub on that fence, too. I didn't care—we were done, and my tour of duty was finally over. I cantered Clover out of stadium, stopping only to walk though the out gate. My trainer met me there, and I asked how many rails I'd dropped. 3? 4? Only one, she assured me. “Guess which one,” she asked. “Three?” I said, “No, wait, four, right? With the flat cups?” No, she told me I'd dropped only the first fence on course, the one I'd ridden Clover to deep into. “Really?” I asked, some heart coming back to me, “wow!”

In truth, stadium wasn't all that bad, we had made it around, and aside from the rail and rubs, we weren't even a scary ride. Even with the test, the refusal, and the rail, we had no time penalties, or speed faults, and had stayed in 7th place for the entire competition. We joined the victory gallop, complete with Olympic theme music, and we packed up and headed home. It had been a great weekend after all, the weather turned out beautiful, Melinda and Bart came in 2nd in their Open Novice division against pro riders, and a couple of other riders I know won their divisions.



So, I'm off to rethink my eventing future. As ambivalent as I was about competing at UNH, I now feel like I have some unfinished business with Clover. Like placing better at Novice, qualifying and competing at the Novice championships, and perhaps even moving up to Training at the end of the season. Is it worth the expenditure of money and stress? We'll find out next season. Will I do my homework this winter, or will I cozy up to the fireplace and catch up on reading? Is it possible to have the best of both worlds?