White Horse Pilgrim

Hawthorn

On the hill trails, the hawthorn has reached a peak of autumnal brightness. Red berries dot the hedgerows, in colourful contrast to the white spring blossom of these chalk hill shrubs, and are quite palatable to horses. Well, to some horses: Brena loves them and happily crunches on the hard-stoned berries. They are supposed to have digestive benefits.

I've read of a folkloric dread to harm hawthorns. So it's said, they grow where lightning has struck. Were that so, the Romanian mountains would be clothed with them, so frequently were the slopes and ridges struck. I remember shattered smouldering trees and blackened grass...and the occasional cross memorialising a shepherd fatally struck. In August I'd be keen to start day rides early so that we missed the typical late afternoon storms that grew and darkened, boiled and struck.

Breastcollar

I decided to start using a breastcollar because it seemed that Brena's saddle was slipping back a bit going uphill. I may have imagined this. Equally, she may have changed shape a bit. Either way, I bought her a piece of tack for my birthday. Such is horse ownership.

I am very much in favour of using natural materials on natural: leather or felt against a horse's skin, for example, Neoprene is an exception, however, where heating and absorption of sweat aren't an issue. So neoprene works very well for this breastcollar, and for the girth on this Tucker saddle too.

This breastcollar came from the US because English breastcollars don't work with Western tack. The English equivalent loops around the girth, rather than attaching to the steel ring where the cinch attaches. The Western version, therefore, is more robust and (because it doesn't slip down the girth) is more effective too. I did need to punch a few extra holes in the straps to reduce the reach of this breastcollar, however what tack doesn't need a bit of personalisation?

Meeting the Toad Stone

The Toad Stone is a well-named sarsen in the Valley of the Stones not far from the barn. Looking at the photo, I've just realised that the Toad Stone even has an 'eye'. It's quite landmark by the side of a very pleasant grassy trail.

The Toad Stone is rather large and lies across the trail from a field of scattered smaller sarsens. Some say that's because attempts were made to remove it from the valley. (But why?) Others claim that a part of it was quarried. (Again, why?) It is, after all, the largest sarsen in the valley, and there are many easier to move and take. This valley is a good place in which to desensitise a horse to stones, should it be wary of them.

It isn't a Toadstone, which is a fossilised tooth from a prehistoric fish, once prized as an 'antidote to poison'. That is something quite different. A Toadstone could be mounted on a ring, and there are some good examples in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. Our local stone is quite different. With such a curious appearance, I'd like to think that it might an antidote to limited imagination.

 

Camping trip

 

When I suggested a camping trip, Rebecca quite sensibly asked whether I have a tent. When I answered in the affirmative, she questioned whether it is possible to stand upright in my tent. Well, actually, no it isn't. One crawls into a space big enough for an air bed that can accommodate two. That didn't seem quite right.

So I ordered a four-person bell tent that would provide plenty of space for Rebecca, me, and all our gear for a horse camping trip. This being a static trip, riding out from a field that we could drive into, a tent weighing 25kg (about 60lbs) wasn't an issue. Here's our camp site, with the two horses prepared for a ride. A strip of electric fence tape protects the tent from grazing horses. Next time I'll electrify it, as the very inquisitive Carys got through it a couple of times and would probably have come into the tent if we'd let her!

In the thin grey twilight of very early morning we awoke to hear rain pattering upon the thin canvas. We stayed dry and soon the precipitation passed, leading to a cool, bright morning marking the onset of autumn.

We were joined on our ride by two others staying at the same farm. As the only one of the group familiar with the area, I led a circular trip that took a couple of hours to reach a hospitable pub for lunch, and a little longer on the return trip. In the New Forest pubs have placed to tie horses, and these are well used. There were opportunities for several fast gallops, and optional logs for those who wished to enjoy small jumps. Carys pleasantly surprised Rebecca by nicely clearing a log, their first jump together. Galloping uphill, Brena initially led thanks to her strong acceleration, however the younger Carys soon passed her, and later so did the other two larger horses.

Here are Rebecca and our two new friends neither galloping nor jumping! We had paused for a few moments on an area of grass and scrub where cattle, ponies and donkeys graze. This is the site of a wartime airfield, which would have been very busy 75 years ago, situated on a rare flat area of the forest. Now just a few concrete roads remain, and a couple of dispersal area where aircraft were parked that are now wooded parking areas for caravans and RVs.

In a secluded valley our horses drank from a clear stream. After a dry summer there isn't much water in the forest, however a few streams and several dew ponds provide enough water for the numerous grazing and wild animals. As the day warmed, our horses took three opportunities to drink, whilst we riders needed our water bottles. A pint of beer at lunchtime isn't enough to stay hydrated!

It's a long time since I led a group on a trail ride in wilder terrain, a welcome remembrance of my former occupation. Well, the forest isn't nearly as remote as the Romanian mountains, however it feels a little bit wild to anyone used to signposted trails. I needed a map and compass when exploring this area for the first time.

Hoof boot fix

I've used Old Mac's G2 hoof boots on and off for a number of years. As Brena's pigeon-toed front hooves wear quite unevenly on the stonier trails around here, I've been using the boots more often. They had tended to come off a lot until I sought the help of a new farrier who shaped her feet better rather than letting flares become excessive.

Old Mac's G2 boots work best when a foot is about 5mm longer than it is wide. So I had to make a modification given that Brena's front feet are quite long compared to their width. The heel strap wasn't quite long enough so insufficient Velcro overlapped to keep each boot secure. I attached another D-ring to the one that is fixed to the boot, which enables more Velcro to overlap. The connection is formed of two cable ties each looped around twice, and experience has shown that this is strong enough.

This does differ from the manufacturer's advice, which is to buy a bigger boot. However I seem to be using a boot that is the right length, as Brena's heels don't sit over the back of the boot (as I discovered they do with Easyboots). There must be other barefoot horses around that are hard to fit boots to, and I wonder what their owners do.

These boots are several years old and have seen a lot of use. The rivets securing the upper and lower parts together at the front have begun to corrode. After several rivets failed, and before the boots came apart in use, I replaced these with bolted connections, using washers to replicate the rivets' coverage of the plastic boot structure. On the boot pictured, I've replaced the lower two rivets. The heads of the screws are inside, and these are domed so that the hooves aren't abraded.

These repairs have also proven effective. Again, this isn't a recommended course of action, however I don't want to retire a £90 boot when it has a fair amount of life remaining in its tread and upper part.

I had thought of trying to rivet the connection, however a saddler reckoned that he'd struggle to get a riveting tool into the cramped toe area. It was hard enough working with a small screwdriver and pliers.

Megalithic ride

 

A favourite ride takes us across the ancient landscape of Fyfield Down, which has the best assemblage of sarsen stones in England. In the corner of a pasture lies the relic of a megalithic burial mound, three huge stones that once formed the entrance to a chamber said to have been 230 feet long. Carys the Welsh Cob was not alarmed by the size of the stones but, being a youngster, wanted to lick them instead.

Spring of change

A bright spring, crops rising from the fertile soil, woods filled with bluebells and wild garlic. It's a delightful time to be out.

Today rain showers alternated with watery sun, culminating in a bright evening of slanting gold. We rode, and the two horses were fresh in the fragrant post-downpour air. How that took me back to a summer afternoon in 1994 riding a borrowed horse through a Moldovan forest. His owner had told me that the big bay gelding came alive after rain when damp earth liberated the very essence of woodland. He wasn't exaggerating. This evening we tore along the margin of a field of burgeoning wheat, leaning hard to the left as we rounded a corner...

The two horses aren't even fit yet...we're looking forward to taking them further afield when they are. Riding brings out differences. I'm optimistic. Rebecca is concerned that we avoid risk. Unconsciously I take care, the legacy of almost a decade working as a trail guide. Quite rightly Rebecca is still learning to trust me. I might need a little correction. Sometimes I ride out a little too easily...complacently maybe?

I'm becoming conscious that my trail horse and I have shared ten years together. Brena and I know what to expect. We can ride almost anywhere predictably, the strengths of each covering the weaknesses of the other.

In a week we shall be married, Rebecca and I. Tomorrow we're off to a monastery for the weekend. We so badly need to depart the material world of preparations for a couple of days and delve into that which truly matters. (Longer than a weekend would be better.)

We're looking forward to awakening one morning knowing that no more preparations need to be made!

Bluebells

Bluebells carpet the woodland sections of our rides, making this an especially delightful time of year to be out.

Sunny weather

The weather was bright for the Easter weekend, indeed unseasonably warm for an English spring.

Rebecca borrowed my pith helmet for sitting in the sun and reading at the yard. Brena regarded the headgear with some curiosity.

The pith helmet, archaic as it may seem, provides shade and insulation. On a really hot day, it can be soaked in water to provide additional evaporative cooling. However, it wasn't that hot today.

In the warm, dry weather, the ground has turned from mud to rock hardness upon the chalk hills. Trails are becoming dusty. It feels as if summer is just around the corner.

And we are hoping for good weather on our special day in May...

Rebecca and Carys

It's time to introduce my fiancée Rebecca and her pony Carys. Rebecca and I met last year and will be married in just a few weeks' time, a great blessing that is bringing us much joy. Carys is a Welsh Cob, rising six, with a lovely temperament. I'll be writing more about our adventures...