When we first moved to CA. we boarded at a stable that seemed very promising. The stables were immaculate and set at the top of a hill. There was a very large outdoor arena that was kept well however the indoor arena was a bit shabby. I had been used to doing a lot of riding inside due to the fact that the midwest winters were brutal, spring was rainy and stormy, summer, also brutal and fall was the best time to ride outside. In northern California most riding was done outside. This was something I had to get used to, I had associated riding with spooking horses because my horse, Andy, seemed to spook at everything outside. They had several trainers at this barn but they somehow could never fit me into their schedule, mostly my Mom helped me and taught me. There was a Pony Club that was started and suited me very well.
I rode in the Pony Club up until the time it fell apart due to lack of sponsorship, perhaps because the trainers, with no time, did not like their students working with other trainers. The stable was nice enough to hold rated shows, which I was able to ride in and, to the annoyance of the busy trainers, do very well. One of my favorite things about the place was that it had a lovely little sandwich shop that made avacado sandwiches, but this about horses. We boarded there until, what I like to call, "the palace" was finished enough to house horses.
My parents had met a couple who were in the process of designing an amazing stable which could comfortably house hundreds of horses, each having their own paddock and shelter with attached storage and tacking areas. There of course was an incredible barn with a tile roof, stucco exterior and arched windows for the horses to look out. The indoor arena was actually just a covered arena, the biggest I had ever seen, and comfortably fit a full dressage ring and plenty of room for jumps. It was connected with a permanent PA system in which we were able to ride with music playing. The tack room consisted of beautiful tack lockers for each boarder and was always perfectly neat.
There was a huge field that was used for cross country events and had several permanent jumps, which I was told not to jump until I was older, I followed the rules. The back of the property was outlined by a creek where much fun was had. My horse liked to jump over the creek, I didn't believe there was a rule forbidding that. The creek was not deep enough for the horses to swim, but in parts you would definitely get your boots wet. On the other side of the water was a hillside, a lovely open meadow, perfect for a nice canter.
I took lessons with anyone who would take me, there were a lot of visiting trainers, I don't believe there was ever a resident trainer. I was able to ride with some top notch people, even olympians mostly specializing in Hunters, Equitation and Dressage. equitation was my forte.
We were there for a couple years, until my parents split up and my Mom, brothers and I headed back to the midwest. We were not able to send Andy back with us and he stayed for two years. I was able to spend the summers with Andy in California and show him and any other horses I could get my hands on. One summer my Dad had purchased two horses off the track, they had months of rest before I got there for summer vacation. I really had no concept of what a horse from the track was, I was eager to meet them. I was fourteen and was certainly not a trainer. I ran out a grabbed one of the horses and brought him to the barn to get ready to ride. A trainer that had been teaching a few people stopped me to make sure I knew that the horse had not even been touched in months, somehow I was ok with it. I tacked the horse and got right on, he was a bit high strung (of course) but after a few days we got along very well, the same went for the other track horse. By the end of summer I had both horses jumping, doing beautiful lead changes and I rode them in some small shows. They were on there way to becoming wonderful companions. I was very proud of them and myself. After I left to return to school, my Dad quickly sold both horses for a nice profit and told me maybe he would have more for me to ride the next summer. I was a bit disappointed that all my work and the horses I bonded with were gone, at least someone made money. I managed to talk my parents into sending Andy back to the midwest and when he got there I no longer spent the summers in California.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
first stable
The first stable I rode at was a blue aluminium building, with two long aisles on either side of a large indoor arena. The front entry was welcoming and lead into an office and viewing room. You could watch people ride while staying warm in the cold winter months. All the horses that were privately owned were stabled in the barns attached to the main building while the lesson horses were kept in a seperate smaller barn referred to as the upper barn. I never understood why it was called the upper barn, it was not on another level or even a hill. The land was all very flat. I could only imagine it was somewhat further north.
I remember every lesson horse as if they were my own. I mostly rode Speckles, she was a large pony or possibly a small Arabian cross, appropriately named as she was a Fleabitten grey. There was Dandy, a stocky chestnut, Peanut, one that my Aunt frequently rode. TDST, which stood for That Damn Spotted Thing, he was an Appy that I think most were afraid to ride. One of my favorites was Mr. Boo which I had a chance to ride once, he was light grey with slight markings, I believe he was Appy or at least part. My Mom's, Aunt's and my Mom's friends horses were sometimes used for lessons as well.
The stable held frequent schooling shows that I was lucky to participate in. I rode Speckles in my first show but since she was a popular horse and ridden by many kids, I did not get to ride her in any other shows. When Speckles was unavailable I rode my Mom's horse Bud or her friends horse Poppy. One show I insisted on riding Mr. Boo, even though I had never ridden him before but I was sure it was a good idea. After much to do, I was given the chance to ride him. I was so excited, it was as if I was going into the Olympics. I was so proud as I entered the arena on Mr. Boo, we walked on the rail with perfection. The judge asked all the riders to trot and Mr. Boo stopped, dead stop. He wouldn't moved, I kicked and squeezed with all my might, nothing. We stayed at a stand still right on the rail while the other horses happily trotted past us, several times. When it was time to line up in the center for the announcement of ribbon placement, he kindly walked to the middle to join the other horses. We did not get a ribbon and I never rode him again, nor did I want to.
Just before my sixth birthday, my trainer wanted me to canter for the first time. For some reason it had been decided that Poppy would be the best horse for my first canter. Poppy was about 16'2 hands high, very tall for a little squirt like me. I was never quite sure why this was a good idea. Thinking back, Speckles was very bouncy and perhaps a bit fast. Bud was very trustworthy, but hard for me to get moving. Poppy was tall and slender, a sorrel with high head carriage and very comfortable gaits. I didn't know then but as I reflect I think he may have been a saddlebred. I asked Poppy to canter and he did, our first try. We cantered right around the first corner to find there was nowhere to go. There was no room between the horses on the rail and the jumps that were set up, Poppy went for the jumps as oppose to running into one of his stablemates. I recall that later someone saying the jumps were set at 2'9", not a huge jump but I was not much taller than that myself. We sailed over the first jump and I stayed on, however, the fear I felt as we approached the second one was probably the reason Poppy decided it was best not to go over the next. He sharply turned before the jump, I continued straight, right into the jump, head first. Somehow I walked away just shook up, crying and vowing never to canter again, never to jump and never to ride Poppy again. Not riding Poppy again turned out not to be an option after my Mom bought Andy and we moved to a stable that did not have lesson horses. Over the next year I would start to ride Andy as well. It took some time and much persuasion, but eventually I would canter again and even jump. That happened at the third stable I would ride at and second trainer I would have.
I remember every lesson horse as if they were my own. I mostly rode Speckles, she was a large pony or possibly a small Arabian cross, appropriately named as she was a Fleabitten grey. There was Dandy, a stocky chestnut, Peanut, one that my Aunt frequently rode. TDST, which stood for That Damn Spotted Thing, he was an Appy that I think most were afraid to ride. One of my favorites was Mr. Boo which I had a chance to ride once, he was light grey with slight markings, I believe he was Appy or at least part. My Mom's, Aunt's and my Mom's friends horses were sometimes used for lessons as well.
The stable held frequent schooling shows that I was lucky to participate in. I rode Speckles in my first show but since she was a popular horse and ridden by many kids, I did not get to ride her in any other shows. When Speckles was unavailable I rode my Mom's horse Bud or her friends horse Poppy. One show I insisted on riding Mr. Boo, even though I had never ridden him before but I was sure it was a good idea. After much to do, I was given the chance to ride him. I was so excited, it was as if I was going into the Olympics. I was so proud as I entered the arena on Mr. Boo, we walked on the rail with perfection. The judge asked all the riders to trot and Mr. Boo stopped, dead stop. He wouldn't moved, I kicked and squeezed with all my might, nothing. We stayed at a stand still right on the rail while the other horses happily trotted past us, several times. When it was time to line up in the center for the announcement of ribbon placement, he kindly walked to the middle to join the other horses. We did not get a ribbon and I never rode him again, nor did I want to.
Just before my sixth birthday, my trainer wanted me to canter for the first time. For some reason it had been decided that Poppy would be the best horse for my first canter. Poppy was about 16'2 hands high, very tall for a little squirt like me. I was never quite sure why this was a good idea. Thinking back, Speckles was very bouncy and perhaps a bit fast. Bud was very trustworthy, but hard for me to get moving. Poppy was tall and slender, a sorrel with high head carriage and very comfortable gaits. I didn't know then but as I reflect I think he may have been a saddlebred. I asked Poppy to canter and he did, our first try. We cantered right around the first corner to find there was nowhere to go. There was no room between the horses on the rail and the jumps that were set up, Poppy went for the jumps as oppose to running into one of his stablemates. I recall that later someone saying the jumps were set at 2'9", not a huge jump but I was not much taller than that myself. We sailed over the first jump and I stayed on, however, the fear I felt as we approached the second one was probably the reason Poppy decided it was best not to go over the next. He sharply turned before the jump, I continued straight, right into the jump, head first. Somehow I walked away just shook up, crying and vowing never to canter again, never to jump and never to ride Poppy again. Not riding Poppy again turned out not to be an option after my Mom bought Andy and we moved to a stable that did not have lesson horses. Over the next year I would start to ride Andy as well. It took some time and much persuasion, but eventually I would canter again and even jump. That happened at the third stable I would ride at and second trainer I would have.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
the start of the horse addiction
One evening, my Aunts were at our house talking with my Mother. They were discussing their childhood memories of riding horses. At the conclusion of the discussion, they had decided to all go together and take riding lessons. At this point I did not really know what it meant, I was only three. In the coming weeks I heard thier stories about riding, they were going to be in a show and possibly, a fox hunt as outriders. One of my Aunts had decided it wasn't for her and did not continue with her lessons, but for my other Aunt and Mother and soon, me, this was just the beginning.
My first memory of the stable is still vivid in my mind. My whole family went to watch my Mother and Aunt ride. My brothers and I stayed with our Dad in the viewing room. The viewing room had a huge dusty window that we would look out to watch all the riding while perched on wobbly barstools. The room also had a vending machine, which had been incentive to sit as quiet as we could while we were there. There always was a distinct barn smell which can only be appreciated by people who love horses, dust, hay, leather and horse sweat. We would travel once a week, what seemed to be a million miles, to watch them ride.
After a few months my Mom and Aunt were going to ride in a show, we, of course, were going to watch. This is when my life would become a life full of horses.
At the show my Mom had a friend who had her own horse, she asked if I would like to sit on her horse, his name was Poppy. I can't remember who housted me up on Poppy but I do remember I did not want to get down. I was in love. Poppy was the first horse I sat on and would later be the first horse I jumped and fell off of. After this particular day I begged my parents to let me ride and take lessons, I was told I would have to wait until I was four, but I could have a lesson for my birthday. I am sure they thought I would forget by then...I did not forget.
I started my lessons around my fourth birthday. Soon after I started to ride, my Mom and Aunt both purchased horses. My Aunt bought a mess of a horse, clumsy, klutzy, lazy and not bright, ironically named Lucky. My Mom bought a horse that she had been riding for lessons, he was huge, in hindsight, I was small and he was probably only 15'3 hands high. His name was Bud, a well built, kind and gentle, beautiful Palomino which I soon would also ride.
I was able to ride in schooling shows in the coming years and I was able to ride alot of different horses of which I remember every one of thier names.
This was the mid seventies. Helmets did not have straps, there were no half chaps, full chaps came in brown suede and everyone wore rust colored breeches with rubber riding boots except for shows. People wore beautiful wool sweaters and tweed jackets to the barn, it was a privilage to ride and all dressed as if it was respect for horses.
My Mom and Aunt were invited to ride with the Hunt, I was too small to ride with them but we all were invited to join the brunch that followed. It was incredible, all were dressed in hunt coats, ascot ties, leather boots and light colored breeches. There was always one man wearing a red coat, I always assumed he was in charge, which he was.
After some time, I assume a couple years, some strange things had been occurring at the stable. Horses were getting sick and some had died. The care went by the wayside and the owner of the barn had been acting questionably. Later we found out, much later for me, he had been making horses fall sick to collect insurance money. He would later be inprisioned for these cruel acts. We had to move our horses, the quicker the better. Not really knowing anywhere else to go, my Mom and Aunt had started to talk to another trainer who was planning to leave as well and they decided we would go with her.
Before we moved on with our new trainer, my Mom had bought a new horse and we no longer owned Bud, which was devastating to me since I was riding him also. The new horse was purchased by my Mother out of pure pity. He was on a trailer headed for what we called The Meat Packer. He was small, skinny, we were told six and rideable. My Mom spent many months training him and getting him in better health. He was an pasture accident when a stallion got loose and no one wanted him, he was an Andalusion Quarter Horse cross that was not to do well in the world of tall lanky throughbreds. She later found out he was only three and possibly had a rider once or twice. She named him Andy.
We traveled from barn to barn with our new trainer, went to shows where we all succeeded and brought home many ribbons and trophys. Our new trainer was getting a very good reputation with her three students doing so well at the shows. She would collect a few new clients here and there, but it was always just a a small group of us.
After about three years, my Dad had taken a job in California and we were soon to move. When our trainer found out she asked my parents to leave me with her to show for the summer. I wanted to stay and show, but, like any sound minded good parents, they said no, I was only seven.
We moved our horse to California with us and I began to ride him as there were no available school horses anywhere we boarded. I continued to ride and show as did my Mom. Eventually I even dabbled in jumpers and dressage with Andy. I had him until I was nineteen years old. He taught me everything I know.
I rode at a few stables while living in California and rode as many horses as I could. I was able to ride with different trainers of all levels and discplines. We rode up hillsides, swam in creeks and galloped in fields. It was a lovely place to ride which only added to my life long addiction to horses.
My first memory of the stable is still vivid in my mind. My whole family went to watch my Mother and Aunt ride. My brothers and I stayed with our Dad in the viewing room. The viewing room had a huge dusty window that we would look out to watch all the riding while perched on wobbly barstools. The room also had a vending machine, which had been incentive to sit as quiet as we could while we were there. There always was a distinct barn smell which can only be appreciated by people who love horses, dust, hay, leather and horse sweat. We would travel once a week, what seemed to be a million miles, to watch them ride.
After a few months my Mom and Aunt were going to ride in a show, we, of course, were going to watch. This is when my life would become a life full of horses.
At the show my Mom had a friend who had her own horse, she asked if I would like to sit on her horse, his name was Poppy. I can't remember who housted me up on Poppy but I do remember I did not want to get down. I was in love. Poppy was the first horse I sat on and would later be the first horse I jumped and fell off of. After this particular day I begged my parents to let me ride and take lessons, I was told I would have to wait until I was four, but I could have a lesson for my birthday. I am sure they thought I would forget by then...I did not forget.
I started my lessons around my fourth birthday. Soon after I started to ride, my Mom and Aunt both purchased horses. My Aunt bought a mess of a horse, clumsy, klutzy, lazy and not bright, ironically named Lucky. My Mom bought a horse that she had been riding for lessons, he was huge, in hindsight, I was small and he was probably only 15'3 hands high. His name was Bud, a well built, kind and gentle, beautiful Palomino which I soon would also ride.
I was able to ride in schooling shows in the coming years and I was able to ride alot of different horses of which I remember every one of thier names.
This was the mid seventies. Helmets did not have straps, there were no half chaps, full chaps came in brown suede and everyone wore rust colored breeches with rubber riding boots except for shows. People wore beautiful wool sweaters and tweed jackets to the barn, it was a privilage to ride and all dressed as if it was respect for horses.
My Mom and Aunt were invited to ride with the Hunt, I was too small to ride with them but we all were invited to join the brunch that followed. It was incredible, all were dressed in hunt coats, ascot ties, leather boots and light colored breeches. There was always one man wearing a red coat, I always assumed he was in charge, which he was.
After some time, I assume a couple years, some strange things had been occurring at the stable. Horses were getting sick and some had died. The care went by the wayside and the owner of the barn had been acting questionably. Later we found out, much later for me, he had been making horses fall sick to collect insurance money. He would later be inprisioned for these cruel acts. We had to move our horses, the quicker the better. Not really knowing anywhere else to go, my Mom and Aunt had started to talk to another trainer who was planning to leave as well and they decided we would go with her.
Before we moved on with our new trainer, my Mom had bought a new horse and we no longer owned Bud, which was devastating to me since I was riding him also. The new horse was purchased by my Mother out of pure pity. He was on a trailer headed for what we called The Meat Packer. He was small, skinny, we were told six and rideable. My Mom spent many months training him and getting him in better health. He was an pasture accident when a stallion got loose and no one wanted him, he was an Andalusion Quarter Horse cross that was not to do well in the world of tall lanky throughbreds. She later found out he was only three and possibly had a rider once or twice. She named him Andy.
We traveled from barn to barn with our new trainer, went to shows where we all succeeded and brought home many ribbons and trophys. Our new trainer was getting a very good reputation with her three students doing so well at the shows. She would collect a few new clients here and there, but it was always just a a small group of us.
After about three years, my Dad had taken a job in California and we were soon to move. When our trainer found out she asked my parents to leave me with her to show for the summer. I wanted to stay and show, but, like any sound minded good parents, they said no, I was only seven.
We moved our horse to California with us and I began to ride him as there were no available school horses anywhere we boarded. I continued to ride and show as did my Mom. Eventually I even dabbled in jumpers and dressage with Andy. I had him until I was nineteen years old. He taught me everything I know.
I rode at a few stables while living in California and rode as many horses as I could. I was able to ride with different trainers of all levels and discplines. We rode up hillsides, swam in creeks and galloped in fields. It was a lovely place to ride which only added to my life long addiction to horses.
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