JenHunt
Well-Known Member
Today was a joint meet, hosted by the York and Ainsty North, with the Hurworth and the Bilsdale. We met in a field close to R. Hall, in wonderful estate parkland, in the northern edge of Y&AN country, and were provided with a generous breakfast before the meet, which was delayed due to the hard frost.
I'd had a bit of a traumatic journey down to the meet as my little truck had tried to boil its insides
but finally got there after just over an hour's journey, and Ron was quite happy standing and munching his hay in the trailer while I stuffed sausage and bacon roll down my neck!
Once we eventually got on board and the standard statements were made by the master, we set off at a fair lick across the estate. First up was a lap around half a dozen fields, with nice trimmed ends of hedges to get everyone warmed up (they were about 2foot 6). Once I'd got Ron steadied up enough to jump the first one sensibly, the next 3 or 4 came in a lovely rhythm and when I asked for a check he obliged and even executed an almost perfect flying change at one (though, I'm not sure why!). Shortly after the 4th hedge we all pulled up to tiptoe our way down a still frozen track.
I was beginning to wonder what the delay was as we inched our way along the track, until I realised that we were queueing for a little fence. I'm glad I realised before Ron, because as soon as he realised he started fidgeting and mincing about. When eventually we got to the front of the queue, he proceeded to have a tantrum about being made to wait and someone got in front of us, which made it worse. A moment later he launched himself at the offending article and we were over - through a wooded ride, and out over some (large) sleepers at the other side. I pulled up to wait for 2 friends, only to see the second of the two fall off as her cob out jumped her, then bronced ungenerously as she was off the side of him. I hung about whilst she got her breath back, and then got on. She called it day as she was very sore in the back, and the pair of them walked home.
By this stage I was some way behind the field, but it gave me a nice opportunity to jump without obstruction, and the next 3 fences (all rails/pallisades) came up and were flown in (even though I say it myself) some style. As I approached a fourth, with the field now back in sight, I could see a gentleman having difficulties persuading his horse to tackle the smallest of this line. On getting closer he asked if my horse would jump, and could he have a lead.... "tuck in as close as you like, I can't stop this horse jumping" and we (both) got over nicely.
The day continued in much the same vein, with little bunches of fences, then a momentary pause to gather the field up, then off again. Shortly before 1pm we came around to a magnificent view of the Hall, caught in pale winter sunshine, basking in what little warmth it contained. We paused, admiring it, all secretly wishing we could live somewhere like that, whilst hounds were gathered up, then, we were off again, retracing some of our early footsteps in the opposite direction.
The next time I looked at my watch was about 1.30, and we were all lined up a hedge line, and for the first time we heard the hounds really speaking, and every horse, new to the job or not, perked up, found his second wind and was ready for the off. Then the horn was heard over the hounds, checking them and reminding them of some rule, some bloke in a suit has laid on them, from a distance of some 300 miles. It was a shame to hear hounds cut off when they were so clearly right on to him, and the huntsman's horn certainly held some regret, fanciful as that may sound. The field were egged on to where we'd seen Mr fox leave the covert, to purposefully trample his line. One hound sat and howled in disgust at our effrontery.
The horses were full of running again, and I chanced up beside a girl I was in pony club with, and we had a good natter as we cantered down yet another track, towards another covert. Both of us were on the same horses we'd passed our A Tests on nearly 5 years ago, and both horses took it upon themselves to set out on a race. Soon the pair of us were hauling for all we were worth to avoid a swiftly approaching, yawning great chasm of a ditch (dyke, dike, drain, whatever one calls them, it was huge).
The field had suddenly piled into the corner of a field, with a narrow gateway ahead, and a jump then immediately left. I manoeuvred myself to the back of the field, in search of a lady who had asked me to help her young horse gain some confidence. We waited whilst the chaos resolved itself, and I was disappointed to see two of Bilsdale's youngest thrusters having problems with the fence. Both boys are the image of our master (their father), and are usually bold as brass and up with him all day in the biggest country, despite riding 13-14hh ponies, to his 18.1hh hunter. Eventually the younger of the two growled at his pony and it plopped over the fence most ungracefully, to be followed shortly after by his stablemate and the older brother. My novice charge and I walked calmly through the gate, slightly away from the little straggly half fence half hedge before turning, and popping it off two strides. We made short work of that and the next fence which was of a similar vein, except jumping from a field into forestry.
Walking along the forest ride the gentleman I'd helped earlier was up beside me, and commented on Ron's unusual markings and then said "you know, I reckon that horse could jump a four foot wall from a stand still", to which my reply could only be "I wouldn't like to give him the thought of it, he'd certainly try!" and we led from there onto novices thinking they need a run up to things when, except for really big country, you don't really, though it does make it easier in open country if you don't have to!
Shortly after this, when it looked like we were about to make a 3rd, or was it 4th, pass over the morning's country I decided to call it a day. It was half past 2, and we'd been non-stop all day. Even if I'd had a hipflask with me it would still have been full owing to lack of opportunity!
My drive home was less eventful, the little truck seemed to have got over its tantrum (though will still be visiting the car vet on monday), and we made good time back up the A1. Home and tired Ron emptied 3 buckets of warmed electrolyted water before getting cross about being hungry, and once I'd rinsed the worst of the sweat off I left him munching. By the time I returned 90 minutes later, 4 slices of haylage and 4 gallons of water had disappeared. What's more, on returning home, OH had cooked satay chicken and spicy noodles!
all's well that ends well - and what a fabulous day to be enjoying our countryside!
I'd had a bit of a traumatic journey down to the meet as my little truck had tried to boil its insides
but finally got there after just over an hour's journey, and Ron was quite happy standing and munching his hay in the trailer while I stuffed sausage and bacon roll down my neck! Once we eventually got on board and the standard statements were made by the master, we set off at a fair lick across the estate. First up was a lap around half a dozen fields, with nice trimmed ends of hedges to get everyone warmed up (they were about 2foot 6). Once I'd got Ron steadied up enough to jump the first one sensibly, the next 3 or 4 came in a lovely rhythm and when I asked for a check he obliged and even executed an almost perfect flying change at one (though, I'm not sure why!). Shortly after the 4th hedge we all pulled up to tiptoe our way down a still frozen track.
I was beginning to wonder what the delay was as we inched our way along the track, until I realised that we were queueing for a little fence. I'm glad I realised before Ron, because as soon as he realised he started fidgeting and mincing about. When eventually we got to the front of the queue, he proceeded to have a tantrum about being made to wait and someone got in front of us, which made it worse. A moment later he launched himself at the offending article and we were over - through a wooded ride, and out over some (large) sleepers at the other side. I pulled up to wait for 2 friends, only to see the second of the two fall off as her cob out jumped her, then bronced ungenerously as she was off the side of him. I hung about whilst she got her breath back, and then got on. She called it day as she was very sore in the back, and the pair of them walked home.
By this stage I was some way behind the field, but it gave me a nice opportunity to jump without obstruction, and the next 3 fences (all rails/pallisades) came up and were flown in (even though I say it myself) some style. As I approached a fourth, with the field now back in sight, I could see a gentleman having difficulties persuading his horse to tackle the smallest of this line. On getting closer he asked if my horse would jump, and could he have a lead.... "tuck in as close as you like, I can't stop this horse jumping" and we (both) got over nicely.
The day continued in much the same vein, with little bunches of fences, then a momentary pause to gather the field up, then off again. Shortly before 1pm we came around to a magnificent view of the Hall, caught in pale winter sunshine, basking in what little warmth it contained. We paused, admiring it, all secretly wishing we could live somewhere like that, whilst hounds were gathered up, then, we were off again, retracing some of our early footsteps in the opposite direction.
The next time I looked at my watch was about 1.30, and we were all lined up a hedge line, and for the first time we heard the hounds really speaking, and every horse, new to the job or not, perked up, found his second wind and was ready for the off. Then the horn was heard over the hounds, checking them and reminding them of some rule, some bloke in a suit has laid on them, from a distance of some 300 miles. It was a shame to hear hounds cut off when they were so clearly right on to him, and the huntsman's horn certainly held some regret, fanciful as that may sound. The field were egged on to where we'd seen Mr fox leave the covert, to purposefully trample his line. One hound sat and howled in disgust at our effrontery.
The horses were full of running again, and I chanced up beside a girl I was in pony club with, and we had a good natter as we cantered down yet another track, towards another covert. Both of us were on the same horses we'd passed our A Tests on nearly 5 years ago, and both horses took it upon themselves to set out on a race. Soon the pair of us were hauling for all we were worth to avoid a swiftly approaching, yawning great chasm of a ditch (dyke, dike, drain, whatever one calls them, it was huge).
The field had suddenly piled into the corner of a field, with a narrow gateway ahead, and a jump then immediately left. I manoeuvred myself to the back of the field, in search of a lady who had asked me to help her young horse gain some confidence. We waited whilst the chaos resolved itself, and I was disappointed to see two of Bilsdale's youngest thrusters having problems with the fence. Both boys are the image of our master (their father), and are usually bold as brass and up with him all day in the biggest country, despite riding 13-14hh ponies, to his 18.1hh hunter. Eventually the younger of the two growled at his pony and it plopped over the fence most ungracefully, to be followed shortly after by his stablemate and the older brother. My novice charge and I walked calmly through the gate, slightly away from the little straggly half fence half hedge before turning, and popping it off two strides. We made short work of that and the next fence which was of a similar vein, except jumping from a field into forestry.
Walking along the forest ride the gentleman I'd helped earlier was up beside me, and commented on Ron's unusual markings and then said "you know, I reckon that horse could jump a four foot wall from a stand still", to which my reply could only be "I wouldn't like to give him the thought of it, he'd certainly try!" and we led from there onto novices thinking they need a run up to things when, except for really big country, you don't really, though it does make it easier in open country if you don't have to!
Shortly after this, when it looked like we were about to make a 3rd, or was it 4th, pass over the morning's country I decided to call it a day. It was half past 2, and we'd been non-stop all day. Even if I'd had a hipflask with me it would still have been full owing to lack of opportunity!
My drive home was less eventful, the little truck seemed to have got over its tantrum (though will still be visiting the car vet on monday), and we made good time back up the A1. Home and tired Ron emptied 3 buckets of warmed electrolyted water before getting cross about being hungry, and once I'd rinsed the worst of the sweat off I left him munching. By the time I returned 90 minutes later, 4 slices of haylage and 4 gallons of water had disappeared. What's more, on returning home, OH had cooked satay chicken and spicy noodles!
all's well that ends well - and what a fabulous day to be enjoying our countryside!
