Dodon Farm.
Steuart
Pittman.
We already know how I feel
about this establishment/owner from my previous blog post
My Visit to DodonFarm.
Steuart Pittman will be offering
cross country schooling RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET from me.
Thank you Facebook for keeping me in touch
with people who (ridiculous blog posts and crashing through oxers aside) would
probably not remember me.
I am considering this.
I broadcast my consideration to the world of Facebook by inquiring about
the time of said schooling. There. There it is in writing (kind of). I am considering cross country schooling. I am soooo considering this, I even text
Steuart the day before to confirm times for the lower level schooling
(elementary anyone?). I could easily NOT
go, I have a million excuses, my 9-5 workday being the most legitimate.
Steuart leaves me a voicemail with the time slots. "Will you be riding your horse that bucks
you off?" (bucks, rears, bucks and rears, whatever).
Oh my.
No, no, Steuart, I want to LIVE.
This is my FIRST cross country schooling EVER and I would like to
survive it in hopes of a second. No
Bernie = possible chance of survival.
 |
| Bernie looks rather un-intimidating in his blanket and fuzzy bell boots |
I am running late.
I arrive at the barn and Rocky, my rock solid, rock star
mount, is.....eating his dinner. If
you've ever waited for a horse to finish his grain, its like waiting for water
to boil. It really doesn't take THAT
long, but when you are watching and waiting (and already late) its slower than
5pm on Friday. I make an attempt to
pick his feet while he's eating.
Just. Don't. I retreat from the stall and continue my
waiting. FINALLY, I get tacked up.
I have to borrow a vest.
As newbie eventer I have not yet acquired all of the appropriate eventer
gear. A vest just shot up to the top of
the list. (And after this outing, an
appropriately sized helmet).
We hack over to Loch Moy and I grossly underestimate how
long this hack will take. I am now a
half hour late. There is a small, teensy
part of me that is slightly relieved. I
might be too late and I may not be able to participate. I spot Steuart, decked out in Dodon green
and he assures me they are running late too and I'm right on time. Oh, excellent. I manage a nervous smile.
We joke about my blog (yes, this one, where I previously
typed how I briefly considered asking Steuart to sign my cleavage.
Comments like that are amusing to share via
internet blog, but slightly more embarrassing when you see the person again.
Way to keep it classy Julie).
I
anxiously nonchalantly tell Steuart this is my FIRST
cross country schooling ever.
Aside from my melt down on rearing Bernie (see blog post
And WeRide! And then we cry....) I've managed
a couple of non-committal trot sets in the field and popped over two different
logs that are literally laying on the ground.
That's it.
Steuart looks
skeptical (or possibly concerned since my last "first" with Steuart was
my very first oxer, which I subsequently crashed through). BUT, this is not trusty-steed-Rocky's first rodeo.
He
is Kerry's training level packer, and she graciously lets me ride him, pretty
much at whim.
And we are off. We
warm up and Steuart tells me to gallop up a hill and then come back down a bit
slower just to get a feel for Rocky on cross country. I'm quite sure we quietly canter up the hill,
and slightly pick up speed coming back down.
Steuart kinda gives me this look like "I saw what you did there,
and that was not a gallop." No, no
it wasn't.
He points us to the first fence and sends us (me and three
other riders) off to jump it at a trot.
Oh God. Do or die time here. If you can make it over the first obstacle,
there is a reasonable chance you will survive the rest. I go into "Nike" mode. Just do it.
We pick up a decent trot (for once in his life Rocky is a bit up and
ready to go, apparently he likes cross country) I crank my heels down and leg
on, especially the left one which tends to slip over fences, I close my eyes
(no I don't, that would be silly) say a prayer and we make it. Steuart tells me to do it again and to smile
this time. I'm trying not to shit my
pants, but I will attempt a smile, for you Steuart. We did it again with some coaching and then
we canter it and another similar fence.
And Rocky is his rock star self and I'm making a respectable effort to
keep up with him and its not bad! I'm
waiting for the fence, I'm not leaning forward and I feel....in sync with my
horse. This is new. My heart rate is starting to come down a bit
as we head into the woods. Another rider
asks how I feel: "Slightly less terrified
than when we started." Which is
true!! If I can get through the next
hour without falling off, crying or wimping out on something, this might turn
out to be my most successful riding experience yet!
We do a little combination of a coop-y looking jump to a
pheasant feeder jump thing. And again,
Rocky and I are feeling like a pretty good team. We may even look okay too, because Steuart
hasn't had a lot of correction for us (of course, maybe he is just happy we are
making it from point A to point B without incident). My own "in retrospect" critique
would be to stay out of Rocky's mouth a bit more. I was a bit, well, terrified at the start and
gripped him too much in the beginning.
Towards the end I was more relaxed and so was he. We finish our woods jaunt and head over to a
ditch. I've never jumped a ditch before
(shocker), I have no idea how to ride a ditch differently than a normal fence
(which I barely know how to ride) and I have no clue how horses normally respond to a ditch. After some much welcomed instruction from
Steuart, the first horse launches over this tiny little ditch and it scares me
a tad (a lot). Oh f*^k, is Rocky going
to superman me over this ditch?
Um, no. He actually
stops and steps IN the ditch.
We jump it the next time around and true to his normal Rocky
self, he does not exert more energy than necessary to clear this ditch, or the
larger one next to it. What I am finding
challenging is steering and stopping after jumping. The steering issue is caused by my complete
lack of decision on where to go after we land.
It goes something like this:
"Holy shit we made it!
Woohoo! Oh f*^k there's a
tree! Turn, uh, left! Shit, don't run into that other rider!"
Finally Steuart says, "Julie, turn right this
time."
And now to string it all together for a small course. A whatta heh?
Did he just say course?
I almost chicken out.
But I don't.
We head to the first obstacle......and Rocky RUNS OUT!
Well played Rocky, well played. Okay, if you are going to FORCE me to sit up
and ride, I will do it.
We circle, I clamp down on the right rein and left leg, no where
to go but over and we make it. We trot
into the water and do the obstacle again without issue. Galloping (cantering, whatever) up the hill
to obstacle #2, and its not horrendous!
Into the woods to the coop and pheasant feeder combo and our course is
complete and successful. Small issue
with the brakes because my normally half asleep horse is ready for MORE! We are walking back to the group and I
realize I forgot the ditch. I was sooooo
excited to clear the peasant feeder, I forgot about the ditch.
Peasant feeder?
Peasant feeder, pheasant feeder, I mean really, its not
feeding either. To me it looks like the
thatched roof of a hobbit hole. While
I'm on the subject, let's discuss the naming of these fences. And by discuss I mean ridicule the ones I
don't know. Vertical and cross rail I
get. Bank, ditch, roll top, gate, brush,
drop, and coop all seem self-explanatory.
Table, while really scary, is visually accurate. I will even let corner and skinny slide. But oxer, chevron, PHeasant feeder, trakehner,
bullfinch and coffin (really?), I have
no idea what these are. Oxer I've
learned since I crashed into one, chevron I thought was a gas station, pheasant
feeder feeds no pheasants (or peasants), trakehner I was pretty sure was a horse
breed, a bullfinch sounds like (and is) a type of bird and coffin is an
ominously stupid name for a solid state horse jump. Not tempting fate at all with the naming of
that one. So to reiterate, I'm crashing
through that oxer, running to the gas station to feed some pheasants (and maybe
some peasants), and then I'm jumping the light-warmblood-horse to bird-sitting-on-a-bull's-ass
to wooden-box-reserved-for-dead-bodies triple.
Uh huh, I got this.
Okay, ranting aside, I have one more mini course to do
before the long hack home if I'm to meet
my evening clients on time (for real, not just an excuse). Okay, over the house thingy into the water,
out of the water over other little house thingy, up the hill over the lattice
gate, over some log-ish fence, down the hill over another fence, back into the
water over first house thingy again (optional).
Uh, okay, yeah, I can remember that.
House thingy to water to other house thingy goes well.
Lattice fence was nice because I actually
RODE to it.
I wanted Rocky to throw in
the extra step, I sat up and asked for it, he gave it to me and it was
good.
Log-ish jump was fine too.
Now down the hill to fence five we have what
I think is a racehorse pace.
 |
| Just like this, I swear. |
But Rocky wants more.
And I give it to him.
And its awesome.
We approach the fence, I sit up and wait for it and its.....
Brilliant.
And then I get lost.
Water! Circle back to
the water! Shit. Approaching the water from down the hill you
can't really tell where your entry point is.
Soooo...it could be your nice BN entry,
 |
| awwww, so peaceful |
or if you choose poorly, it could be a massive drop into the
water.
 |
| Massive drop |
Needless to say, drops terrify me, so this is a crucial
choice.
You have chosen....wisely.
 |
| Indiana Jones chose wisely too |
We easily canter in and, in a brief moment of actual confidence, I even take the optional house
thingy jump at the end.
Things I learned:
Cross country is FUN.
The most fun. On a horse.
Ever. This is what riding is all about. I might could actually pull off a BN event sometime this year.
Clearly, my main issue going cross country will be knowing
where the hell to go next and not forgetting fences. My normal,
absent-minded, A.D.D. self will have to pay extra-close attention to course
walks if I ever make it to an event.
Apparently my helmet is ill-fitting unless my ridiculous
Rapunzel-like hair is styled just so to keep my helmet in place and prevent this:
 |
| Yeah, that guy can't see so well |
Rocky LOVES cross country.
Steuart Pittman really is as awesome as I remembered. And still really tall.
Storing a check in your half-chap on a hot day is
less-than-brilliant and it will disintegrate upon attempted retrieval. Fail. As they say, the check is in the mail. (No, really, it is)
Later that week:
As I am still coming down from my cross country schooling
cloud 9, Dodon Farm posts this on their facebook page:
Working
Student / Apprentice Opening: Our summer working student, Katie Klenk, has made the position indispensable.
We must replace her. Seeking an outstanding
rider with a great work ethic. Arrangement can include housing, a horse or no horse, and includes
grooming, riding, some stalls and feeding, and the best work environment and education anywhere. Email
resumes to Steuart Pittman at
dodonfarm@verizon.net. We will select only one applicant.
OMG. This innocuous
post is literally my dream job. Forget the resume (which BTW, mine is very nice, full of all sorts of un-horsey-related skills, unless your horse needs a logo), I would GROVEL AND BRIBE for this. If I
wasn't too old to be considered a "student", and didn't have need of
my full-time job to pay for my full-time bills and full-time responsibilities
and if they removed could be lenient on the whole "outstanding rider" requirement, I
COULD DO THIS!!!
