Fat pony in the world of stressage

So apparently it is not acceptable to turn up to a dressage competition in wellies, a rucksack, high vis, primarny jacket, horse trainers of shame, and half a tree in your hair. Also chatting like a lunatic to the horse as you desperately try and negotiate corners is also frowned upon. Still the nice folk at Newlands Riding Club took pity and let us compete anyway.

I’ll be honest, I was expecting to see a field full of fat ponies and kiddy riders when I had signed up for the dressage comp. It is a local club, and the calibre of horses and riders has been suitably low on all the other events I have turned up to. I thought Sof and I would blend in nicely.

Oh how wrong I was. We turn up, un-platted (cause I couldn’t be arsed), sweaty and covered in mud and shrubbery from the ride up - only to find a field full of high quality horses and riders dressed immaculately. Bugger.

Big warmbloods were prancing around the warm up arena fully collected doing half pass. I glanced over at someone doing the test I had signed up for – really bloody well. Oh shit, I haven’t even learnt the test let alone practiced it. I had been a bit ambitious when I signed Sof and I up for Prelim 4. Our canter thus far involves going increasingly fast and doing wall of death around the corners. Sometimes we go in an outline, but most of the time Sofie defiantly sticks her nose in the air in protest of my unsteady hands.

It was also raining, making the wet grass rather treacherous.

I did a quick warm up to try and get Sofie’s attention. Moments of brilliance undispersed with her being nosey/trying to tank off. I studied the sheet stuffed in my pocket and watched a few rounds to try and learn it. Time to line up to go in.

I came across a girl I knew from when I was at another yard with Tonto. She was on her big impressive chestnut horse which was going beautifully. I said hello and she looked down at me on my scruffy fat pony in ridiculous trainers with some distain. She was polite, but clearly disapproving. I think you are meant to take this dressage stuff seriously.

Realising I may have made a slight error with our attire I asked one of the organisers about the hoof boots. Absolutely not. So I hastily removed them. He then also pointed out that wellies were a no-no. White gloves must be worn. The bit can only be a plain snaffle, so our hanging snaffle was out. And I should be wearing a tie. Failure to adhere to the dress code will get you eliminated. He saw the deflated look on my face, then said ‘have a go anyway, just know for next time’, which was kind of him.

We entered the ring, had a brief look at the flowers, and then circled waiting for the bell. Please god let me not embarrass ourselves further. The bell rang and it was on. Thank god for Sofie. I might be an amateur at all this but at least she knows what she is doing. With the bell she transformed into a listening dressage diva. She pranced down the centre line and did a beautiful 20 meter circle for me. We slipped when we changed the reign which through my concentration. After this the contact was less constant, but I think I have myself to blame. Canter was miraculously controlled. I did my best to sit back and chatted steady to her and she listened. I was later told by my friend that talking to your horse is not allowed by mercifully the judges were in a car with the windows wound up so they couldn’t hear me. It wasn’t a brilliant dressage test, but it wasn’t embarrassingly bad either.

Lowest mark was 6 (satisfactory) and highest was a 7 (fairly good). Overall score 61.59. Our feedback was as follows:

Much to like with regular paces. Tends to tilt head to outside at times and needs more suppleness through the poll and needs to constantly accept a soft contact for the higher marks.

 Not bad for an underprepared first attempt.

I think with some lessons and practice we could get good at this. Thing is I’m not sure I want to. I can’t see me enjoying the dressage world. It seems to be a bit overly pompous. Why the hell can’t I wear my wellies! They give me no strategic advantage (in fact they are a disadvantage). Surely we should be judged on our riding not our turn out? Thing is I am also slightly inclined to really get into it to try to beat the snobby warmbloods on my fat pony in my wellies. Time will tell if reason or stubbornness will out.