Livin' the Dream? Part 1

The event that has had the biggest impact on my riding life was the summer I spent in another province as a working student.  I was in my early 20's and had been told repeatedly (and somewhat loudly) that if I really wanted to grow as a trainer, and become a serious high level rider I needed to become a working student at a successful training barn.  As a rider with very limited means, but a wealth of experience 'behind the scenes' at local stables this would probably be my best and only bet. I agreed, and eagerly sent off several applications along with videos of my riding to a few dressage trainer I knew of.  I received back a number of positive responses, but the reality of the cost of travel (goodbye dreams of riding in Germany) and the cost of living in the states (one women wanted me in Colorado that weekend-I received her email Thursday...) put a damper on my excitement.

Feeling a little discouraged I decided to attend a local clinic with a Canadian rider who came very highly recommended.  I'll call him Coach T.  Watching other peoples lessons with him I was impressed by his solid explanations, his tough stance on contact ("Half halt RELEASE! No, REALLY RELEASE!") and his stressing of how the horses biomechanics effects the way we ride them. He was also one of the few coaches I had seen who understood that 'forward' was not about speed, and he told almost everyone to slow down.  YAY!  During my lessons I found him tough but fair, catching many on my weaknesses ("Shoulders back!!") but also being pretty darn positive.  I was happy, and the three days flew by.

At home on Monday I sent him an email thanking him for the help and asking for his advice.  He responded with a job offer, saying he liked my riding, and if after a 2 month trial I decided I liked the situation I could stay on for a year, moving up to assistant trainer. Again, I was beside myself.  The next few weeks were a blur, as I prepared to leave.  My farm, horses and dogs would be cared for by my ever supportive parents (this was before my arena was built, a much simpler time) and I would eventually send for my mare Anja, now just 2, to be started with me once I was settled over there.  Within 2 weeks I was packed up and on my way.

I arrived at Coach T's brand new facility just as a new batch of horses were coming out of quarantine. I spent my first day there being told every horses name, age, breeding and current level of training.  I was thrown right into work, with very little explanation.  There were 2 other girls around my age who were also working students, plus a younger one who came for the summer only.  A third girl I saw hanging around was a sponsored Young Rider hopeful who's new horse had arrived only a month before. Her horse was a Grand Prix schoolmaster straight from Holland and (as she proudly informed me) 'probably worth more then your whole farm back in Manitoba'.  I rolled my eyes at that one, but he really was a lovely boy, with the sweetest temperament. Someone back in Holland had taken very great pains to train him properly.

Diving into the work, I found out we were in charge of grooming and saddling every horse that was to be ridden (close to 20 a day), of warming them up, and riding the ones we were assigned.  Coach T was extremely fussy about turnout-horses had to be brushed to perfection, tack was cleaned and polished after every ride, and we had to be dressed in a crisp polo shirt, dark breeches and shiny black boots with spurs.  My first day was a whirl wind, but as I feel asleep that night I figured all the blurry details would come into focus the next day when the real work began.

The next day did indeed allow for better focus and observation. I was surprised to find that the horses rarely went outside.  There were 5 small but adequate paddocks beside the arena that sat mostly unused.  If the weather was nice, the horses were allowed out to spend 30 minutes outside in those paddocks by themselves, grazing. Any contact with a neighbouring horse was prohibited, a rule enforced by an electric wire that ran around the top of the fence. Horses had to be lead out with a chain over their nose, and halters always stayed on.  Each horse wore boots on all 4 legs, plus bell boots on each hoof.  If a horse appeared to want to play, buck or run, we were to run out there and prevent it, bringing them inside before any such things occurred.  If the weather was bad, all horses were hand walked twice a day for 15 minutes in the arena.  I ventured out beside the arena one day leading one of the star youngsters who almost never left his stall.  I felt sorry for him, and wanted him to see more then the view the small window in his stall afforded him.  He was good at first, but eventually all the stimulation a quiet field on a hot summer day contains led to a rearing fit.  The barn manager and head assistant (I'll call her K) laughed as I put him away.  "Silly boy, doesn't he know going outside is a privilege not a right?"

That seemed to be the basic consensus with everyone at the barn.  The horses spent all their time either locked in their stalls behind iron bars, being hand walked, or being lunged/ridden.  Freedom outside, with no human telling them what to do was basically unheard of and considered unneeded. These were not back yard horses, I was told countless times. Theses were superstars, worth far to much to be allowed to do anything that might lead to an injury.  The unfortunate side affect to this was that they all cribbed or weaved, which led to electric wires being run on the inside of the stalls. Some were incredibly grumpy, with several biting the bars on the stalls when you would walk by. Others stood at the back of their stalls starring at the wall. The younger ones often took to jumping around and bucking, kicking the walls, or running small circles.

Outside time at my farm

I felt an overwhelming pity for them but then, hey, who was I? Just a nobody from Manitoba.  This was how it was done, I was told.  This was how it was in Germany.  This was just the facts of having high end horses.  I sighed, put my head down, and tacked up my horse for my first riding lesson.