Colours in my life

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Quaint Krakow

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We arrived in Krakow on a super short commuter flight from Budapest and spent most of the weekend wandering about the charming town, constantly watching out for rogue trams that want to run us over. Our first afternoon was a delightful stop in the large market square to sit on a terrace, drink local beer, eat a lovely plate of cured sausages and meats with a kickass fresh horseradish purée, and watch the parade go by on National Constitution Day. Somehow, we often arrive in a new city on their national holiday. Krakow town square and basilica In the town square, m any fine carriages and horses are in line, with beautiful women in black hats with white ribbons driving the carriages. Its so unusual to see only women driving so many large carriages, that I took notice. At first, I thought it was because of the parade. Later that day, I watch the carriages circulating with passengers and the pretty lady is up front doing nothing while an old peasant dressed man is driving the carri...
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So I was trotting down this path when …

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This story shows how I was obviously oblivious and Q was paying attention but not threatened. His maturity on trail continues to exceed expectations! Q was excited and energetic. It was our second ride after weeks of confinement (due to icy footing) but our first time trotting. Footing was dry in certain sections and we were both happy to move out.  I tried to convince Q to give me his « traveller trot », an easy smooth ground covering stride that I can sit for long stretches. Some think he is gaited as I could sip champagne (or cava) when he moves at this pace.  He tried but his body was tense and in one section he lifted his head up and telescoped to the back right. I thought he might have seen riders behind me but nope. Added some leg to get his attention back, and while he never broke his metronome pace, he was still clearly bothered by something to our right. And then I saw it. I laughed and stopped to get a better look. I said hello but no response. Of course it was a bi...
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Canter Protocol

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I do lots of different kinds of rides, with lots of different kinds of riders. But cantering always has me stumped. I have an established checklist of rules, but not everybody shares my view on this. Here is the short version I do not ride on trail with anybody who is not comfortable cantering their horse (at least in an arena). I don't want their first canter experience to be the spook and bolt when their horse sees a deer. I will occasionally make an exception to this rule for very short and controlled trail rides within proximity to the barn. I do not race. The order we start in, must be maintained until the end. No passing. With some of my trail buddies we will canter side by side, and it is glorious! I do not gallop. I have made a few exceptions to this rule with individuals that I trust, and on a trail I know well. The gallop stretch never lasts very long. I do not canter up ravines or anywhere I do not have a long line of sight. Again, I sometimes make exceptions to this on ...
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The hidden gait

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I had a plan. My horse had another. I wanted to canter. My horse wanted to bolt, spook, and gallop! So we trotted and cantered up hills and across trails until the poor guy was winded. I let him walk and catch his breath, which of course is a little challenging when he is still jigging. I thought he had calmed down and we could start practicing canter transitions when a pheasant startled in the bush. Poor Q was wired! So we kept on trotting until finally 10 minutes later he asked to walk. I got this little clip after thirty minutes of trotting and just before he asked to walk. He is looking a little sedate, finally. Eventually I got to do some canter work on a wider stretch of the trail. At first the circles were ovals but eventually Q figured out my game.  Which got me thinking ... will I ever gallop? My old timer cowboy trainer told me many moons ago to be very careful about never “opening up” my QH on trail. So we kept our speed to hand gallops in closed spaces. But many trainer...
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Whiplash

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Got back to Buenos Aires at 2 am this morning, after a week at the southern tip of South America in the borderlands of Chile and Argentina in the Los Glaciares National Park. Stunning scenery, rustic outposts of the neighboring sheep farm where we cooked meals on wood fires and slept in shacks barely protected from the howling winds blowing down the Dickson and Perito Moreno Glaciars. My little firecracker of a criollo mare Achicoria was stupendous. We herded wild cattle and scrambled over rocks, logs, and steep descents in between long gallops. I took a nap in a glacier field between the Calafate Berry Bushes and the wild grasses, drank mate and learned how to make empanadas with my guide Juani. To say the trip was epic is a disservice. Being disconnected for so many days in the grandiosity of the Andes glaciers, drinking water straight from the streams, was a return to a lifestyle we have never known. As Juani and I did our last race back to the barn we were intercepted by a gaucho w...
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