Sitting

I’m lucky to have the opportunity to work with beginner riders. Each new person is a new opportunity for me to improve not only my teaching methods, but my own riding skills and horsemanship. Not to mention my communication skills with my riders, which has by necessity improved tremendously over the years. At least as far as lessons are concerned. I suppose I am not the only horseman to feel I communicate better with the four leggeds than the two.

I’m learning one of the most important things I can teach – and one I overlooked for years, considering it unnecessary and taking for granted that it would just be done.

Sitting.

Sounds simple, doesn’t it?

I have found it to be one of most complicated lessons to teach, to put into words. And yet, one of the most essential, basic skills, and the perfect starting point for any rider.

Once we learn to sit, we can learn to ride.
When we sit well, we can enjoy the ride, and the horse can too.

A proper seat is taught from day one in English lessons, at least it was back in the day (we don’t need to count how many days ago) when I was taking English lessons. But for the Western rider, is it not considered until more advanced levels, and sometimes I question, if at all.

Why not?
I’m learning to bring it back to the beginning, and introducing “the seat” to my beginner riders, to help them sit comfortably and solidly on the horse from day one.

Trouble tends to be with the more experienced riders. As you’ve all seen, often the more time someone has spent riding, the more set in their ways they may be, or the more convinced they are of their way being the best way. Of course. It is easier to stick to the old way than having to learn something completely new.

Sitting does not need to be new. A good seat seems obvious, or at least, when you have it right, is hugely apparent. Likewise, when you have it wrong…

We start with breathing. How many beginner riders (or advanced riders, facing any challenge –from riding along a steep drop-off to concentrating on a new skill) hold their breath?

So we start by breathing. We remind the rider to breath. And then, with each breath, the air is taken in deeper – no longer shallow and tight in the chest, but deeper, fuller, down into the diaphragm. You can see the rider up there on the horse. When that first deep breath is taken in and then slowly released out, somehow, suddenly, they are now sitting deeper on the horse.

And yes, a deeper seat is a safer seat, a more comfortable seat, for both rider and horse.

I love to see this instant transformation. Out on trail rides, I can remind the rider of the same when I notice them perched forward in tension, already half way out of the saddle. All it would take is one quick spook of the horse to send that rider flying out and down. We remind them to breath (yes, we all need to be reminded to breath sometimes!) and there they go, settling back in, solidly in the saddle.

For myself, I must remind myself regularly as well. In any tense situation - and for any trail rider, these can come suddenly, without notice, around any corner – my common reaction is to tighten up, rise out of the saddle, lean slightly forward, and hold my breath. I catch myself doing this regularly, and remind myself to sit back. In a tense situation, the last thing my horse needs is to feel that obvious tension in me. Better for him (and therefore, for me), if I lower my energy, breath more deeply, and sit back in the saddle in times of stress. This not only calms me down, but it calms my horse down. It allows him more confidence in my leadership when he needs it most.

So, we start to learn to sit by breathing. Then we learn to move with the horse, sitting soundly with the motion below us. Again, this is commonly taught in English riding, but the Western rider is usually not taught at all, or else taught an exaggerated form of movement, an over abundance of “life” in the rider, with the rider pumping the horse beneath him to encourage each step. This translates to a great deal of constant rocking and movement in the saddle. After a couple hours – or even all day – in the saddle – that would be not only tiring for the rider, but exhausting for the horse.

Give the horse a break. Consider his back, his comfort. Become conscious of your movements. There is a pretty solid line you will find between the over-abundant rocking form of riding, and that which keeps the rider tensely perched atop the saddle, never feeling the movement below. I strive to find and ride that line, and encourage my riders to do the same.

I believe this starts with breathing. If we settle solidly into the saddle, or better yet for learning, directly on to the horses back, we can learn to feel his movements. We can learn our most solid position and see how little motion it takes from us to allow the horses freedom of movement. Consider the leverage involved with the rider atop the horse. Due to the fact that we rise up several feet from the middle of the horses back, each of our movements creates a need for shifting weight, compensation, on the part of the horse.

When we begin to see how little motion we need to allow the horse the freedom of his own movements, we begin to allow ourselves to gently shift with the horse, and allow our horse to move with greater ease. We need not encourage and pump his every movement beneath our hips with an exaggeration of movement and effort that the horse then has to adjust his own movements to compensate for the movement of the rider. Instead, we strive to find harmony with horse and his movements. We allow the horse to move, and flow with his movements. The more subtle our movements become, the more the horse can move with ease and grace and fluidity.

Several teachers suggest “playing” horse to learn such feelings. This is a great lesson to try in order to learn first hand what the horse is feeling. Start by “being” the horse. Kneel on the floor on your hands and knees, and have a friend play “rider.” Start by feeling that person gently shift with your movements. Now, ask the “rider” to tighten, tense up, and lean forward. Then ask the “rider” to exaggerate her movements, bring that abundance of life in their seat. Feel the tension and stress this creates. Pretty annoying and uncomfortable, isn’t it?

This motion is great for teaching, both horse and rider, the initial feel. But once that feel is learned, let it go, stop nagging, and allow the horse to move on his own. Movement is his job, not something I have to constantly work at by “driving” him with my own movements. Instead, I consider getting out of his way, sitting solidly, and helping the horse do the job he is most capable of doing with the least amount of interference from me as the rider.

Size is not important – I have seen excellent riders be very tall, very wide, and very small. The key is moving your body, whatever the size and shape, with horse, in harmony with the horse. Start by sitting, then by breathing. Then consider sinking in with open hips onto the horses back. Next I urge the rider to sit tall, be bigger with every breath, remaining centered. I suggest they feel one string coming up from the top and back of their spine, lifting and straightening them. Then they feel a second string dropping from their ears, through their shoulders, down past their elbow, their hips, their heels, and dropping all the way to the ground, to the solid substance beneath them.

This is the beginning of sitting, of what grounds the rider in the saddle, keeps them straight, gives them contact with and feel for the horse. This is what I try to explain to my beginner riders. Likewise, this is what I work on with myself every ride, every time.

Trilogy of the trail

The voice of the trail rider is spoken not in words but hoof beats even and smooth along a well worn trail. We speak softly. We do not scream. We are there for the silence, for little more than the sound of the wind through the trees and the powerful breath thrusting from the chest of our horse. We are there for the silence within our minds that finds this soothing yet exhilarating melody through riding, the unity of being together, being there, being present, at such an ease that allows us to so simply forget all those worries left far behind, long ago, if only at the trailhead.

We are there to listen more than to speak. Our voice is the unspoken words between horse and human and the wild world we roam through, if even just for this ride.

It is the trilogy of the trail that draws us: human, horse, and nature. Much more than the individual parts, it is the blend, the balance, the merging that happens when the three are together as one.

Trilogy of the trail. I think of this, of the three separate and unique elements uniting, and the voice that sings from… what is it? The land, the rider, the contented horse?

Listen... it is a harmony sung only in unison of the three. A quiet song, whispered only on the trail.

On fear, knowledge and comfort

A good part of my job (there are many good parts) is and has been for the past 15 or so years: working with people who might not be comfortable in the mountains or with horses, and helping them to feel more at ease. Can I do it? That is my challenge. And when I can say, “Yes, I can!” you can see how rewarding that feels. Dinner conversations at my table change from mechanics talk and construction and snow… to the rewarding trials of the day on the trail. The boys listen to me, to my enthusiasm. They know it was a “yes” day. On those very few “no” days, I remain completely silent.

Fear of the wilds, mountain trails, and these thousand pound animals is real, and for good reason. We can get hurt. This is a fact. The fact has created our fears. However, a group of other facts are the cure to alleviate, or at least reduce to a manageable position, those same fears. Acquiring knowledge tends to be the first step in elevating fear.

That’s where I (and hopefully all outfitters and wrangers today) come into the picture. Sharing knowledge – of the horse and the mountains – is my job. My goal is almost always the same. To allow the person the information which enables him or her to feel more comfortable. Knowledge empowers us. Slowly, what once seemed so frightening is now understandable. This new knowledge, or a confirmation or refresher of this knowledge, helps us lift our heads, raise our eyes, and so, “Oh, yes! That makes sense!” Knowledge replaces fear with comfort. We might sill have a respectable dose of fear of the given situation, and that’s probably a good thing, but at least we can manage it now. When it’s all more manageable, it’s all more comfortable. And when you’re more comfortable, I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy yourself more. Folks come here for vacation. Shouldn’t they enjoy themselves?

It’s a natural progression. Fear is replaced with knowledge. We can see the progression. We help by teaching our guests just a little bit of how, why, what to do, where to go, how to get there. A little bit about the language the horses speak, and how to speak it. It is rewarding to see our riders start to sit back and breath. And our horses in turn soften their eyes, relax at the poll, swivel their ears, and begin to listen to their new rider.

With every new rider, I, too, have the opportunity to learn anew. What works best for the rider? What works best for the horse? These things matter to me. Simple riding skills, I know, but a trip horseback in the high mountains may always turn into something other than simple. And we all have a much better chance of keeping things simple if we take time for every rider, every time, to share a bit of basic knowledge. My horses thank me most sincerely in their own way.

There is no sense in condemning. If you’re not doing it right, I’m not teaching it right! I, too, learned to ride. I was not born with this knowledge, was not born into this knowledge, and still (and will always) have plenty more to learn.

As outfitters, teaching riding was not always considered our greatest strength. “Dudes” were put in the saddle, a pat on the horses’ rump would get the horse moving, and we trusted our horses to follow along the trail and get everyone back… safe and sound? More or less. Ask most folks who used to ride at Dude Ranches back in the day and you’ll hear some wild tales. Unfortunately, most were true. This is what happens when we ride without knowledge. And the crazy thing is: more often than not, the horse actually did get the rider home in one piece. I think we all had the horse to thank, not the person on top holding on for dear life, kicking or pulling in random progression meaningless to the horse. The horse was not happy, I can tell you that. And the rider, well, he or she was just plum lucky.

We used to think a bigger bit might make a better ride. Keep the rider safe, the horse in line. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s true. And at the end of every ride, I don’t know how the rider was, because I was far more concerned with my horses. They’d be more agitated and frustrated every time. At the end of each season, they would be progressively more desensitized. Kick and pull was the name of the game.

Time to change the game.

Today, my husband smiles at me and smirks as he listens over and over and over again to my crash course in tail riding.

“Hold onto the base of the mane as you mount”
“Settle softy onto the horses back”
“Sit deep like a sack of potatoes”
“Shoulders back… and breathe”
“Remain centered on the horse”
“Be riding all the time”
“Keep a lose rein”
“Focus first”
“Suggest with the reins”
“Use leg pressure only if need be”
“To stop, ask your horse first”
“Assume he will do what you ask”
“The more politely we ask our horses, the more they will listen to us”
“Don’t try to fight your horse, he’s bigger, he’ll win”
"Follow through, stay with it, and wait for the horse to respond"
“Give an instant release when you get the results you want”
“Don’t be so quick to blame the horse, see instead what you may be doing wrong”
“And don’t forget to breathe…”

Five minutes, maybe ten. That’s all it takes. But it makes an infinite difference to my horses. And guess what, tomorrow I may never see the rider again, but the horse? I live with him. I work with him. I rely on him for my livelihood. I care for him and want him to enjoy his job as I enjoy mine.

Oh yes, it’s all simple stuff. But if we don’t teach this to a rider, all they are is a passenger, and usually a passenger who is trying to stay in control of game they have no idea how to play. I can pretty well guarantee that my riders today return home happy and comfortable and confident. They return a better rider than when they started out. That is very rewarding to me. I believe many in the horse industry, in the guest ranch or outfitting industries, are doing the same. Lucky for the horses, lucky for the riders. Lucky for us who spend our days working with horse and rider.

Our rides may not be the wild, reckless adventures of yesteryear, but my riders are safer, and my horses are happier. And with each ride, I am allowed the lesson of clarity of communication with both horse and rider. I still have much to learn, but learn more every year, with every ride.

What once was fear was conquered by knowledge and replaced with comfort. Me, my horses, and hopefully especially my riders, can all feel this difference.

Running like the wind... unintentionally.

After a summer of regular use, trail riding, simply walking on the trails, even for hundreds of miles over the summer season, even in this high elevation and challenging terrain, is not enough for some horses. However, just walking along the trails is the primary part of my horses’ job. Be it taking guests on a trail ride, packing in a drop camp to the back country, or bringing the three of us into the Wilderness for our Ditch Digging Job. Our horses spend a lot of time… walking.

But for my little Arabian stud horse, simply walking did not seem to be enough. To begin with, I could never get him to sweat. A sure sign walking just wasn’t doing it. No matter where or how far or how long we walked, it was not big deal for him. Ho-hum. What next, Ma? And although I’m a reasonably small woman, he still seemed so little. So thin, so frail!

I suppose if I rode him only, put on more miles, or if days were only longer. However, I lack the time or the opportunity… Too much else to do. Sound familiar? We never do find enough time, do we? I suppose that’s why they invented exercise machines. But I just can’t get myself to go there when I live here: high in the mountains surrounded by unlimited miles of awesome horse trails.

Whereas my Quarter Horse is all beefed up from a summer of equal use, this little fellow needs more. So, in a final attempt to buff up my little stud, we’ve taken to measuring out a special supplemental diet. And running.

Figured it would be more work out in less time. And if you’ve ever tried running yourself at 10,000 feet plus, you’ll understand why I thought this could get him in shape.

We’re a mere 20 days into the new regime. Guess it is working. He’s still pretty little and skinny, if you ask me. But he’s getting stronger every day. All this running and extra calories are paying off. So, now I’m left wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

See, last time we were out there, doing great. Obviously we can’t run the whole way. Steep mountains. You’re supposed to be smart. So, we’re out there, yes, walking, but covering some fantastic terrain, up and down slopes where he had to practically slide down on his rump and I got to pretend I was the Woman from Snowy River. And then we hit this wide open park. Wide open but filled with frightening obstacles like snow and mud and puddles and brush and rocks and sudden holes in the ground and drops offs in the seeming smooth terrain… And I ask him to run.

I suppose he really thought he should give this one his all. So he gave it to me.

Part of my job is helping riders feel secure on the trail. “If you horse ever takes off or feels in any way out of control, it’s real easy: just pull on one rein and turn the horse to the side, tight and quick.” I say that all the time, all summer long, and have for plenty of years. It’s always worked. For me, and for them.

Well, tell you what, it didn’t work on this day. Try as I might to pull that horse’s head to the side to come to a stop, not to mention just a bit of control, it didn’t work. He didn’t feel it. Perhaps he forgot I was there. On a technical level here, folks, I was riding in a “loping hackamore.” No bit. Nothing more than a soft nose piece and cotton reins. Just a little more than the halter I trained this boy with. A tool that fools a horse into believing you actually have control, when what you really have is a well mannered horse. I always figured that was enough. On this particular day, at this particular instance it was not. I swear he didn’t feel it at all.

For what seemed like a looooong time, but was probably just a matter of minutes, that skinny little boy ran around that mountainside with me firm on his back, eyes tearing from the wind, one arm pulling desperately on the rein and the other above my head, trying to prevent my hat from flying back, mighty glad for a good seat and outstanding footing from this little barefooted fellow. I was thinking how crazy we must have looked if some tourist was up on the mountain looking down at us running full speed ahead in some random track about this hillside.

Funny, when we’re at a walk, he often stumbles. At a full out gallop, he was smooth as silk. Lightening reflexes. I remember seeing puddles and snow piles and gofer holes and ravines all flying into vision and thinking, “oh boy, this is it…” but he’d manage to swerve around or over or through, just in the nick of time. Impressive.

When I finally did resume control and managed to get his head around and his feet stopped, he was calm and relaxed. Instantly over it. Over whatever got into him where when I asked him to run, he did, thank you, but… he forgot what the word “stop” meant. He wanted to run. There was no fear motivating him, nothing spooked him, nothing wrong. I think he did it because it felt good. Isn’t that what I wanted? Isn’t that what I asked for? He’s an Arab. He wanted to fly!

I never had a horse take off on me like this, and I can’t say I’m very comfortable with it. I was, for a matter of minutes, out of control. And yes, as a horse rider and trainer, we say it’s all about control.

I’d say I’m too old for this. But truth is, it was exhilarating. But foolish, I know. My rule of thumb: never ride a horse over whom you have no control. Well, I’ve got some, but I saw my weakness. We were lacking in a few control issues. Communication issues, perhaps. We’re back in school to polish up these aspects. Ground work. In cases like this, we hope ground work really is the basis for a solid foundation.

The snow and deepening mud postponed our running for the past few days. I think the trails may be dry enough soon. I will find no further excuse.

And yes, he’s named Flying Crow for a good reason. Careful what you name your horse.

Saddle in the... snow.

It makes doing it in the rain seem so easy. I will try to remember that and try to not complain too loudly next time I find myself laden with hat and slicker and boots all dripping like a gutter as I try to get my ponies ready for a day of work.

But the snow? Although it makes for beautiful pictures, I can’t say it makes for a pleasant or comfortable day. The first hour is fine. Beyond that, well, it’s kind of like gloves. Three pairs later, each one frozen and soaked through… It doesn’t feel so good. You start to question why you’re out there. Well, eight hours later it’s the same thing, head to toe. You’re frozen and soaked through, no matter how many layers you put on.

But… I wouldn’t miss it for the world! It is times like this you are happy to be alive, invigorated, aroused, and crazy as it may be, loving life and glad to be out there in it, truly living! You’re appreciative for good horses, motivated by the awe inspiring wild mountains around you, and glad for a good hat (more on that later). You learn to appreciate these simple things we may otherwise take for granted, or not test out completely. Like: just how water proof is that new jacket? And how much do we really trust our horses?

All this is so much easier said right here and now, of course, from the comfort of my warm sofa by the wood stove, as the snow continues to fall…outside.

And about those horses: It’s days like yesterday - a day when we would have preferred the comfort of our cabin, or at most, heading out for an hour or two little ride in the freshly falling snow - that we learn what a good relationship is all about. We test our trust. We have to. Our hands are so cold and dysfunctional that we tie our reins together, loop them over the horn, and let go. Our horses guide us. They find the trail through the deepening snow and gusts of blinding whiteness ahead. Their footing is slick beneath them, beneath us, but they lower their heads, intensify their focus, quicken their pace, though remain calm and even of gait, and find their way along the precarious edge of the trail.

I wonder if the snow would soften the fall should we slip off.

They do not slip off. In fact, they barely slip at all. They know there is work to be done, and they are ready to do it. Yesterday, our horses cared for us. I am glad for that. We care for them so often. I believe they appreciate it. And when we needed them, for a job in the high country that could not wait or be put off until the weather cleared, they rose to the occasion. They stepped up to bat for us.

I am proud of them. This makes riding in the snow… good.

How to slicker-proof a horse

In consideration of saddling in the rain, the question was raised on how to get a horse slicker-proof.

I don’t. I hate to say that, but it’s true. You can get any horse used to it, comfortable with it, and understanding of what it is so that most of the time he or she will be just fine with it. But I’ll never underestimate the wonderful mind of horse. Being the thoughtful, thinking, yes, even sometimes moody creatures that they are, I can’t guarantee that every day they will be OK with it. Would you be if someone suddenly threw a crinkly big blanket over your back without warning?

Therefore, I never take the act of untying my slicker from the back of my saddle, shaking it open, and slipping it on for granted. Or at least, I try not to, in order to be most respectful of the horse. Instead, I take just a second to let him or her know what I’m doing. “Hey you,” I tell him or her, by sliding the rolled up slicker from behind him and allowing the horse just a second to see it, “I’m putting this on. Remember this?” If I do that, he’s fine. If I don’t have the respect for my horse, or have him so desensitized to stimulations that he’s oblivious, I don’t want to be out there with that horse.

I will “sack out” the horse to the slicker before hand, and a tarp, and a plastic bag, and many other things. This is an essential part of ground work. Approach and retreat with the scary object until the horse is comfortable with it, and has therefore decided “on his own” that he can handle it, that it’s really not so scary. With each object, we build our horses’ confidence.

I do not want to completely desensitize my horse to all objects and motions and movements and sounds. They are horses – their sensitivity is an essential part of their nature, and I don’t want to change the horses’ nature. What I can do is increase their confidence by giving him or her the opportunity to deal with and overcome many challenges; and I can give him or her the necessary tools to handle his or her sensitivity. For example, even the most bomb-proof horse, unless he or she has been so deadened by overstimulation and is in an unnatural state of mental shut down, will spook from time to time. But a spook could and should just be a quick turn towards the object to check it out further, or a quick step to the side. Who among us with a good mind does not get startled from time to time? A horse could and should learn that a scary object, or a spook, is best handled with a simple motion; not a rear, a strike, a bolt, a buck or running back to the barn.

So, I allow my horses the opportunity to become comfortable with the slicker from the ground. Very comfortable. Then I try it from the saddle at a stand still. Slowly. Give him time to get it. Then hang the slicker from a railing or tree and ride the horse over to it; have him approach it, accept it in his own terms, and slowly pull it off and allow your horse to carry it. If it’s easier to start these things from the ground with the horse in hand, take your time, and do it that way. Just give the horse time to accept it, learn it, and realize on his own terms that he’s OK with it. Allow him the time to come to his own comfort level with. Don’t rush it, push it, or force him. Encourage him. Reward him. Pat him and tell him he’s done good.

I don’t think it has ever been a problem unless I (or others) have simply not had the respect for our horse to “tell” him or her what we’re doing, and think it’s OK to just whip open the slicker and shake it all over his back all of a sudden. I don’t know about you, but if I was that horse, and someone threw a fast ball like that at me unexpectedly, I’d be a little ticked off too.

Saddle in the rain

Ah! Rain sweet rain! Greening up our pasture and filling the creeks with the sweet flow of spring from which the horses drink.

I suppose the horses all must be singing about the Mud, sweet mud. They must be loving it: they are covered in it! Why bother even running a brush across their backs? I groomed up my little stud today before a ride, then rubbed him down nice and shiny after when I unsaddled. Only to have him roll in the best mud patch he could find within one minute of being put back out to pasture. No exaggeration. I should have known better.

Saddle in the rain. For better or for worse (I’ll try not to be judgmental here, but I don’t know anyone who is fond of doing this) we have to do this a lot. Some years we get numb to it, day after day with the rain pouring in a solid stream from the brim of my hat, soaking my jeans before I have a chance to get my slicker and chaps on. I can’t comfortably saddle up a string of horses and get a pack string together running around in heavy leathers. It’s awkward, cumbersome. So I wait till that work is done before getting my gear on, and all that’s left for me to do is sit in the wet saddle for the next four hours or so.

Sounds like I’m whining, doesn’t it? I’m not. I actually love it. It’s weird (and/or I’m weird) because I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been out there soaking wet in the saddle all day, and I look around at the soft, lush green of the mountain rolled up in the heavy clouds, and I can’t believe I’m so lucky to be out here, riding, working with my horses and my husband and son, as my soggy dog follows close behind. Calling this a job! At times I love it so much I could cry, and if I did, I’d be so wet already no one would notice and tease me for being so sappy.

Saddle in the rain. I know, it can be a bummer, it’s true. Starting the day off soggy, and knowing your saddle will be soaked before you even have a chance to get up in it, isn’t really great. But nothing that can endure the ropes and rubbing and leathers and brush of a day in the saddle that I know of is truly water proof. So you learn to be wet and dress warm. Silk scarves are good. And wool socks. I’m not beyond wearing Long Johns in July. I have these re-usable hand warmers along with a few pairs of extra gloves handy in my horn bag. You do what it takes.

Saddle in the rain. To me, that means get over it, and get it done anyway. And once you’re on your way, chances are pretty good you’ll find it’s not so bad. You might even find it’s wonderful.

The great helmet debate

When I taught riding at a kids camp, we had a sign in the barn promoting wearing helmets. It said, “Every ride, every time.” I confess I do not wear a helmet. I don’t know if that’s the wisest option, since no matter how gentle a horse is, he or she can spook; and no matter how good a rider I may be, I still will stop riding at some point during the day when I’m out there on the trail (please see post “Riding all the time”), stop focusing, and daze off. Thus, I still can (and do) fall off my horse.

When I first began enforcing “the helmet law” at camp, more than a few kids, and especially the counselors, were disappointed. And yet, I remember that first year, saving the cracked helmet that more than likely saved the life of a young lady who still ended up with a severe concussion from that horse accident. Hung that helmet in the saddle barn to remind the young staff and helpers that there was reason for this enforcement. Time and time again, I actually watched as the helmet impacted the ground. Each time, I shuddered to think what would have happened to that head protected beneath the helmet if I was not as insistent on them being used.

It’s important to note that every one of those accidents during the six years working at the camp happened while running the horses. Hmmmm… Young, inexperienced riders, on horses used to being told to “take off” and run like crazy up a hill or across a pasture. The campers had no control, and nor did the young staff. They were there for 2 months to have fun. For the most part, few were “horse people.” Hardly any would ever ride a horse except those few times during the summer.

But do I fool myself by thinking I have that much more control now? I ride for a living, putting on hundreds of miles of back country riding in each year, and countless days in the saddle. And still, I know I could fall off…

One of the biggest differences is how we ride. Here in the high country, in elevations of 10,000 to over 12,000 feet, and on what are mostly challenging mountain trails, we walk. Yes, there are times we have to run, but it’s not as often. And when we do, both rider and horse are intent and focused. Usually there is a reason to run, and we negotiate the terrain and our goals accordingly.

So if (and unfortunately, it happens) our guests do fall off a horses, it’s at a walk. You can pretty much see the rider just slide off… slow motion… losing balance, letting the saddle go. Those folks end up on their hip. Or more often, there are the folks who fall off when the horse spooks out from under them, and as riders, they don’t stick with the horse (yes, I’ve been guilty of this one). Those times we end up on our rears.

I am trying to justify my lack of helmet use, I know. But until I start Endurance Racing (which I would very much like to try), I don’t think I’ll sport more than my felt hat. I’ve heard so many sides of this debate, and both have good points… I suppose this is yet another choice we have to make based upon where we ride, how we ride, what kind of horse we ride. Not what kind of rider we are.

Rider Orientation

This is a list we compiled over the years as a reminder, a check list as you will, of points we review with each rider before every ride. Perhaps you may find something here of use if you, too, guide rides or teach riding. Perhaps there may even be a bit of value in here if you ride on your own – a self reminder check list! Hope it may be of some use.

Pre Ride
Horse tack, horse shoes checked before each ride.
Rider, horse and saddle “matched” to the best of our ability.
All participants have read, understand and agree to our release of liability.
All participants have signed a release of liability.

Safety on the ground/ at the corrals
The nature of the horse – instinct replaces training, remaining calm, communicate clearly, provide leadership, be aware of the horses tendency to spook.
Safe distance on the ground between horse and person.
Safe distance in the saddle between horses.

How to safely mount and dismount, how to handle the horse when dismounted.

Double check all tack
Cinches should be checked 3 times
Double check balance and fit of stirrups
Be sure rider’s gear is secure

Safety in the saddle
Balance (be aware of your center, center of horse, realign rather than fall! Be upright at all times like the trees growing on the hillside)
Posture/leg position (melt onto the back of the horse, center focus just below your belly button, legs are your anchor not your arms/hands)

Riding
Starting the horse (focus, raise energy, squeeze – do not kick)
Stopping the horse (voice command of “whoa,” sit back, gentle pull back and release, or one rein to the side – do not jerk back)
Steering the horse (riders focus is key, point and shoot – smooth movements)
Proper rein length (give the horse it’s head, but be able to communicate if need be)
Ability to shorten the reins (understand what this means and when you might need it)
Ability to split rein (plow rein and move horse with one rein)
Maintaining correct spacing, stay in line, walk only.

Emergency handling (pull one rein to your hip, turn the horse to the side, focus on driving the horse in small, tight circles)
Emergency dismount (turn horses head to side, removed feet from stirrups, jump down on that side)
Dismounting at the end of the ride (be aware of spacing between horses, line up at rail)

Be riding all the time!
Trail Etiquette reminder (refer to previous post)

Rider evaluation, if necessary, includes:
If unable to safely guide and control the horse here, please do not assume it will be any safer out on the trails!
All riders must be able to safely control their horse both on the ground and in the saddle and follow our directions at all times.
Evaluation if need be should be requiring participant to ride horse out from herd, around an object near by, and return.

Any questions, comments, concerns?

If a second guide is riding drag:
Keep in touch with lead guide as need be: Call up to lead guide in friendly way
Keep an eye on safety, especially:
Slipping saddles, riders off balance
Reins too loose/too tight
Horse spacing
Personal objects slipping, falling, etc.

Riding all the time

I try to ride all the time. All the time I am in the saddle or on a horse, that is.

In the last post, “riding all the time” was mentioned as one of the key points to stress for a rider. I don’t know about you, but this is a big challenge for me, but one that has been key to improving my knowledge of my horses, my riding ability, and my safety.

I’ll start by explaining this a little more. By saying “riding all the time,” I mean paying attention to you and your horse the entire time you are in the saddle (even more so when on a horse bareback). As you can imagine, running dude string rides, more often than not, we used to see folks get on the horse and expect to sit. And they figured they’d be safe. They weren’t. Wrecks were all too common. At the very least, horses would “behave badly” because of miscommunication from the rider, lack of direction from the rider’s focus, seat, legs, hands, weight, balance and voice.

We started reminded folks that riding is a sport, and they are a participant, not a passenger. This seemed to be one of those “Ah ha!” points, as you could see the rider suddenly sit up and look around more intently. I don’t know how to explain it, but I could see the difference. The rider was paying more attention. That’s the first step.

For me, striving to ride all the time, means paying attention to my self, my horse, and my surrounding (which often includes a string of dude horses or packs behind me) as much as I can. I say that somewhat loosely, because my “job” (hard to call this work when I love it so much) entails being on the trail for hours at a time, often 2, or 6 or 10 hours a day. I’m not mentally capable of paying attention for that long. But I do try. I’ll let myself get lost in the rhythm of the horse walking up the trail, and then POW! I wake up, notice where I am and what I’m doing. I take a minute to make certain I am moving with my horse, working with him. I’ll focus on my seat, check my reins, adjust my shoulders, see what feels good to me and what I can tell works for the horse. I watch his ears. They give me a good clue if he likes what I’m doing or is getting annoyed with me. I’ll even play games, like seeing if I can lead him in a certain direction, around a bush or rock, just with my focus. Or speed him up or slow him down just with the movement in my pelvis.

And then, chances are, something will distract me, usually some trivial thought, and my mind wanders away from my horse.

Quattro has been a terrific teacher to keep me focused on my riding, to keep me riding all the time. Even after hours and hours on the trail, he will not give me five minutes of my mind wandering off before he says, “Oh, there she goes, not paying attention. Let’s try THIS!” And he’ll jog, or veer off the trail, or take a bite (of grass or of the horse closest to him). He’s got a big bag of tricks, and he loves to try them all. I’ve been guiding on him for three years now. I love it. For all the hours we’re on the trail, I can never say I’m bored. Usually, if anything, I’m exhausted. Paying attention as much as he requires of me wears me out.

My sweet, gentle broodmare, Tres, has been a surprisingly good teacher for helping me learn to ride all the time. But in a very different way. You see, with Tres, I figured I didn’t have to ride all the time. I could sit back and enjoy the ride. Slack off, you know. What’s she going to do? Right? Wrong. She’s a horse. Horses are all capable of spooking, shying, bucking, rearing, biting, running off, etc… though we teach most not to behave this way, most of the time. But we should never kid ourselves that they can’t or they won’t. Because that’s when they will.

So it is that I’ve fallen off Tres more than any other horse we own or have owned. Simply because I stop riding when I’m still in the saddle. I forget where I am, what I’m doing and allow my mind to wander off, far away. I have complete trust in this mare. And I still do, even though I’ve found myself on the ground beside her a time or two. The fault is not hers. The fault is mine. Every time, I was lost in thought, and just going along for the ride, and suddenly, she’d act a like a horse and spook. What a surprise!

Last year I finally figured it out. I tried to pay attention when riding Tres, to be as aware of myself and her and the trail as I am when I ride Quattro. It was harder with Tres, because she’d so rarely “act like a horse.” But when she did, and of course she did, I was actually ready. And rather than finding myself on the ground looking up at her like “what is wrong with YOU?” I found myself solidly in the saddle, and could pat her shoulder, and say, “good Lady, you saw that before I did!”

Trail Etiquette and Safety Information

Over the years in my infinite attempts at organizing our horse business (can a horse business be organized?), I have amassed several forms, lists, and records to share with our guests and to at least try to keep ourselves in line. I’d like to share this one with you. For anyone who currently rides the trail, it may be just a list of reminders. I personally re-read this and update it yearly. I don’t know how, but I do forget some of these things. For anyone with a horse related business, perhaps some of these points can help you in working with your guests and clients. And for anyone who is interested in trail riding but hasn’t been out there yet, or at least not much, perhaps some of these points will be helpful. In any case, it’s long, but hopefully you’ll find at least a tidbit or two in here that might work for you. I have this printed out on the back side of our Release of Liability form and ask all our guests to read it over. (If anyone out there would like a copy of our Release, please let me know.) I don’t know if they do, but I feel I’m doing the right thing. Many of these points I then cover verbally and through actual physical instruction, which we take the time to do for every rider, every time. Our horses are quite grateful for that time well spent.

Ranch Trail Etiquette and Safety Information, Requirements and Conditions

Riding is a sport, just like tennis or skiing. It is a high adventure activity; not a spectator sport! You are a participant, not a passenger, so when you ride, be riding all the time. Be aware of your horse and what you are doing. Your horse has a mind; it will use it. Learn to guide it safely.

As an animal of flight, the horse is startled by sudden movements, loud noises and unfamiliar objects. Don’t throw things (hats, camera, water bottle, etc.) to or from a horse. Please ask our guide to stop to put a jacket or slicker on; you may need to dismount for this process. If you would like to take pictures, ask our guide to stop.

Don’t let your horse eat or graze on the trail when riding. Just one mouthful leads to many more. A good trail horse knows the difference between having a rider on his back, and having a pack strapped on. Don’t act like a pack. During breaks, eating is permitted. Our horses work hard. During water crossings, allowing the horse to drink is permitted, and often times, encouraged.

Following the instructions of our guide is essential for the safety of each and every rider in the entire group, as well as for the safety and well being of our horses. All participants will be expected to follow the guides instructions from before approaching the horse, until after safely dismounting. Safety is our first concern.

Likewise, don’t pass your guide. There is a reason he or she is guiding, and by your choosing to participate, you agree to accept his or her guidance.

If your horse fails to keep up with others, has tricks you don’t like, or acts lazy, before you blame him, figure out how much you really know about riding. Riding is a lifelong study, and a good rider always looks to himself first.

Keep a safe distance between your horse and the horse in front of you – approximately one full horse length. A horse finds tailgating about as annoying as you do – and horses have been known to kick and bite when annoyed.

A nice pleasant walk is not only suitable, but required for riding here at Lost Trail Ranch. This is due to the high elevation and the difficult nature of our terrain, and is based upon our concern for the safety of our horses, not to mention our riders. If we trot or lope our horses, it is will full consideration of the safety of ALL riders and horses, and with respect to the trail and the terrain.

No smoking is allowed around the barn area or during a trail ride.

Sorry, guests dogs may not join us on the trail ride. Our guides, our horses and our trail dogs are not familiar with them, and leaving your dog “home” is the easiest way to prevent any possible related problems.

These facts, requirements and conditions are written with your safety in mind.

All riders are expected to safely mount, dismount unassisted if need be.
All riders must be able to safely control their horse both on the ground and in the saddle.
A brief riding review/lesson may be provided before each ride. If you feel you need a riding lesson or refresher session before embarking on a trail ride, lessons and instructions may be scheduled accordingly.
A riding evaluation may be necessary to ensure the ability of the rider before leaving the barn/corral area. This is essential not only for the safety and enjoyment of that rider, but for the safety and enjoyment of ALL participants in the ride. Any person(s) unable to safely complete the evaluation may not be allowed to participate at that time. Please be aware of our No Refund Policy as well as our saddling fee/minimum service fee. Lessons may be arranged here at Lost Trail Ranch. Please feel free to speak with us about them. We enjoy the opportunity to help teach our guests to become more knowledgeable, confident, and safe in the saddle.

Please ask questions before leaving if you have any doubt about reining and controlling your horse. And do speak up during the ride if you have any questions. We would like to do all we can to make your trail ride a safe, knowledgeable, and fun experience.

Remember, horses are not machines. They will look to you for guidance and leadership. Be sure you communicate clearly, calmly and well to your horse with your focus, your balance, your positioning, your reining, and your voice.

Remember too that there are hidden dangers on the trail. The rider needs to be alert at all times and in control of his/her horse. As long as you are on a horse, you are riding. Be riding all the time.

With all of this in mind, we sincerely hope you enjoy your ride, and that you have many pleasant memories on horseback!

Quiet trails

We rarely say a word when riding.

Perhaps it’s because we’re getting hard of hearing, or perhaps because there is often a string of pack horses between us. No matter. We don’t need to speak. We can spend 2, 6 or 10 hours on the trail, and find there is little that has to be said, few things that can’t wait until we are done for the day and can sit down together and enjoy the conversation.

From time to time on the trail, I’ll take a look back and smile, and get a warm smile in reply. What else do I need? There are no hand signals, no pointing. Our hands are tied up with reins in one and the lead rope of the pack string in the other. If there is something special worth sharing, all it takes is a tip up of the head to point something out, and a nod down to acknowledge. We’ve done this long enough, spent enough time together, we can figure the rest out.

When we return to the ranch or to camp at the end of the day, unsaddle the horses, put them out to graze and then sit down to dinner ourselves, then we can talk. By that time, we have had time to consider what is worth talking about, what thoughts we’d like to share.

“Did you see…?”
“What did you think about …?”
“We need to plan a day working on that section of trail…”
“My horse…”
“I was cold.”

I think of our son, now almost 16, who has been raised this way, as comfortable in the saddle as he is in the silence, without need for or understanding of small talk. Blessed with time to think.

I suppose it’s quite different for a kid to be raised this way now a days. But you ask yourself, what would you rather teach your kids or your grandkids? How many of us have taught our children to be quiet? To listen? To be comfortable in silence, and contented in stillness? To observe nature, to reflect on the beauty around them, and to sense what is inside?

On the back of a horse, on a day on the trail, this is natural, it is easy. There is time to think, to see, to feel. These things a child can learn without you working to teach. The lesson can be taught subtly and simply. Just take them out on the trail, again and again…