# The Good Old Days--Remember When?



## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

remember when I used to ride all the time 
and I loved it


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Well this thread is easy to respond to. Herewith me and Longford Golden Appollo - aka 'Puddy'. It has to be an old photo, there's me with a Western Hat on an English saddle jumping a fence. They don't allow such frivolities these days - I'd never be allowed to even enter the competition.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

very nice picture Barry


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## Koolio (Apr 7, 2010)

Back in the day when I was a kid we used to take our horses out to the family cottage in the summer and ride the mountainsides in B.C. with nothing but a halter and a lead rope. If you got thirsty, you drank from a stream. If you got hungry, you gorged on Saskatoon berries. If you got hot, you'd just go for a swim at the boat launch (without getting off your horse). You'd be wearing a swimsuit and flip flops anyways, so it didn't really matter. The water skiers had a bit of a trip though. The time you could leave was at sun-up and the time to be home was sun-down. Life was so simple.

Now, I'd never let my daughter do the same as it wouldn't be tolerated by the "lake association". I'd also be too worried about dirt bikes, quads, hunters, partying drunks, cougars and bears up in the mountains to let my daughter take a horse up there. 

Oh how I miss the good old days!!


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

Koolio said:


> Back in the day when I was a kid we used to take our horses out to the family cottage in the summer and ride the mountainsides in B.C. with nothing but a halter and a lead rope. If you got thirsty, you drank from a stream. If you got hungry, you gorged on Saskatoon berries. If you got hot, you'd just go for a swim at the boat launch (without getting off your horse). You'd be wearing a swimsuit and flip flops anyways, so it didn't really matter. The water skiers had a bit of a trip though. The time you could leave was at sun-up and the time to be home was sun-down. Life was so simple.
> 
> Now, I'd never let my daughter do the same as it wouldn't be tolerated by the "lake association". I'd also be too worried about dirt bikes, quads, hunters, partying drunks, cougars and bears up in the mountains to let my daughter take a horse up there.
> 
> Oh how I miss the good old days!!


I remember going some of this when I was teen riding with my cousins 
we would ride bareback on the road. no helmet or saddle or boots 

We would go for hours and then on the way back we would go to the 
river and swim with the horses 
I would never do that now lol


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## Koolio (Apr 7, 2010)

Country Woman said:


> I remember going some of this when I was teen riding with my cousins
> we would ride bareback on the road. no helmet or saddle or boots
> 
> We would go for hours and then on the way back we would go to the
> ...


I would love to be able to do this again just to experience that sense of pure unbridled freedom!


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## attackships (Jan 12, 2012)

Not me, but these are photos of my mother. She used to volunteer to take care of these ponies at a nearby stable. My mother left me two of her diaries she wrote in as a kid and inside were these pictures!


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

what a memory to have of your mom


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## With Grace (Oct 20, 2011)

As a kid, my best friend and I used to ride the ponies up to the country store...which was on an old back road, parking lot was dirt, and there was a hitching post outside we tied the ponies to. With a dollar in our pockets we got a big bag of candy and rode home so happy. Wish my kids could have that experience....

That store has been gone for 25 years now, its a huge grocery store and theres no dirt roads anywhere around there. It's one of the more upscale areas in my region now. I think about it a lot and I miss those innocent times.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

yea I remember those innocent times


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

From the number of likes obviously this photo stirred some memories,

It was taken some time in the mid 1970s at a time when I was travelling to Houston on business. The hat came from Cutter Bill's on Westheimer.

The bridle set was a fancy Western show bridle fitted with silver rings.
I still have the saddle, and the bridle but not the reins

The horse was an Irish Cob Gelding - who later was to be put down for reasons of Emphesemia. He was a beautiful creature who taught me to ride.

Note the lack of any safety wear and no marking nor signs saying 'don't'

It was a cross country competition at our local riding centre down in snooty Surrey. Very very informal.

I scored more points than anyone else when of course the aim was to score the fewest. I didn't come off but I knocked a few poles down.

My hair was jet black - so was my beard. 
I was still scuba diving.
There were other men riding in the competition - not just me.

It is the laughter and the informality which I remember most. There were few rules except : "try not to fall off"

Oh happy days - they will never come back. Sad. 

These days there are too many rules and lots more 'don'ts.

Here's another photo , when we were setting out for a long distance ride along the South DOwns Way


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## thesilverspear (Aug 20, 2009)

I'm in my late twenties and even I remember when I was a young teenager, from 13 upwards, and my parents would drop me off at the barn and say, "Call us when you're done and want to be picked up" and then that was me for a couple hours. This was the norm: other teens at the barn were also left to tend their horses on their own. Over a decade later, I virtually never see teenagers at the stables riding alone. The parents are always at the stables with the kid, helping out and overseeing.


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## Faceman (Nov 29, 2007)

That would be me on the right in 1957 on the little farm we rented in Southwest Missouri riding my Shetland/Quarter cross Dandy, and my little sister on the left riding our TWH Sugar Babe.

Those horses were not only opposites in size, but opposites in personality. Dandy would run across the pasture just for the pleasure of biting you, and Sugar Babe was the most gentle horse with children you could imagine. Dandy and I had a lot of "adventures", but thanks to him by the time I was 11 I could ride just about anything.

It's funny how kids are. I would get up on Saturday morning long before my parents got up, run Dandy down, saddle him up, and off we would go across the plains. Sometimes we encountered bears and mountain lions...sometimes we had to avoid Indian war parties...sometimes we would trudge across the dry desert and climb the mountain to check for smoke signals...sometimes we would encounter a posse and be drafted to help chase crooks. ****, that was some pasture...


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## AndreaSctlnd (Jan 17, 2012)

You know reading about this brings back not only adventures we had riding but just the fun of being a kid with an imagination being allowed to be outside being a kid!

I had a horse from the time I was a pre teen to when I was 19 but he was about 1/2 hour away and I only got to go ride him every other weekend. But we too would go out and just hang. We would ride around the truck and play McDonalds or bank...our horses must have thought we were dorks. riding in circles around and around a pick up truck. Or we would just head out in to the woods and see what we could see.

The times we weren't out riding, we were outside playing. We had so much fun pretending! Kids don't know how to do that anymore. It is sad. My b/f son is 3 and I love listening to him play! I join in just to remember what it was like. I also don't want him to out grow this. Childhood is precious and we need to foster this carefree thinking in them.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

When I was young I was always outside playing with my pets or friends
I got dirty, I climbed trees and played in the dirt, We had chickens and cats so they were my responsibility so I had to get up early to take care of them 
in the summer I would go out side in the morning and going in the evening


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

Oh goodness, how things have changed and not always for the better!

The town where I grew up (on the Isle of Wight, UK) had been quite badly bombed during the war so, we kids played on the bomb buildings and the new houses that were being built on the sites. The older children looked after the younger ones and imaginations were used to invent games and build camps.

As for riding, the only children that owned their own ponies were either very rich or farmers children. All the rest learned to ride at a riding school and the keen ones stayed all day to 'help' whereby we did all the menial tasks and were kept busy for nothing in the way of reward.

We learned to ride on excellent ponies, we were made to work hard at our riding and competition for riding the better ponies was great. 
If we fell off then we got back on, no fuss, even if something hurt. We went up jumping lanes without reins or stirrups putting on or taking off our jackets. We learned how to remove our pony's saddles whilst riding them at a canter around the arena. 
There was no such thing as health and safety!
If I made children do half the things we did then I would be locked away for endangering the child's life. 

We lined up to ride the very naughty ponies that came to the stables for re-training. If you got bucked off them someone else was ready to get on the little s0d and it worked, ponies soon gave up ditching the rider when there was another rider to get on. Our reward was to compare bruises and the one with the biggest got a chocolate bar. 
There were never any mothers around to scrape us up and rush us to E.R. If we were hurt then we were told to lump it or to give up riding. There were no thoughts of suing. 
We hacked to shows and fox hunting and then hacked home again. 
We were taught to put our ponies first and to look after them before we were allowed to go home even though we were half asleep on our feet.
We rode all types of ponies, the fat ones and the thin ones the good and the naughty, the talented and the not so and all the time if things were not going right it was instilled in us that it was the rider at fault and never the pony!
We had water an poop fights, all in the best of spirits. Practical jokes were many and taken as such.

Shows were great events, the stables pulled together and wished to do better than other riding schools yet anyone would always help out someone even from a different stables. Sportsmanship was the name of the game and if anyone was a bad looser then they were treated as such and made to know that it was not acceptable. 

Yes, things have changed!


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

This Is Tim McGraw 
*"Back When"*

Don't you remember
The fizz in a pepper
Peanuts in a bottle
At ten, two and four
A fried bologna sandwich
With mayo and tomato
Sittin' round the table
Don't happen much anymore

We got too complicated
It's all way over-rated
I like the old and out-dated
Way of life

Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack's what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I'm down with that
Well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when

I love my records
Black, shiny vinyl
Clicks and pops
And white noise
Man they sounded fine
I had my favorite stations
The ones that played them all
Country, soul and rock-and-roll
What happened to those times?

I'm readin' Street Slang For Dummies
Cause they put pop in my country
I want more for my money
The way it was back then

Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack's what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I'm down with that
Well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when

Give me a flat top for strumming
I want the whole world to be humming
Just keep it coming
The way it was back then

Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack's what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Foxhunter, You're not old enough to be in the senior's club


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## FlyGap (Sep 25, 2011)

I know I'm half the age of some of you at 31, but I grew up in the middle of nowhere Arkansas, deep in the woods. Good times varied between backwoods old time fish fry's, vacations were barefoot in cut-off's week long canoe trips, and "going to town" population 5,000 with 1 stop light. I was 17 when we got our first fast food stops: McDonald's and Taco Bell. Most of us kids lived down dirt roads and the country folk had chicken houses and cattle farms. 

At 7 I had my first full time job and worked at a pony farm. Flip flops or barefoot in shorts riding at least 5 hours a day. Helmets were only found in horse picture books. I had never seen one in person.

When I was 11 I got my first horse, I rode her in a bikini/shorts, barefoot, and never bothered with a saddle or bridle. When I was 13 my parents bought me a tent so I could camp out in the woods ALONE with only my horse, my dog, a pot and a package of ramen noodles. I would stay out in the 1,000's of acres around my house for days without checking in. Sometimes I'd stop in and write mom a note to let her know I was still alive! The land is now nothing but subdivisions. 

When I was 20 I spent some time in Egypt. Can't even go there now. I rode around like I did at home in sandals or barefoot on some of the best horses in Ciro. My riding buddy had trained in England and we raced the horses over the dunes, against each other. It was like in the movies. The teenagers had tents set up in the desert drinking, dancing, playing with snakes. Everyone was happy, there was a little old man with a cart and donkey who traveled miles outside the city with cold drinks and smokes for the trainers. We'd race up the giant hill and the looser had to buy. I never lost. There is NO way a twenty something American girl could do that now. I can only tell my daughter about it, sad I won't be able to take her back one day.

Now it's almost considered child abuse to let your kid ride without a helmet, to wear the tar out of their back end for running the horses, letting them play with BB guns! Of course ignorance is bliss, but safety is key.
It's sad you can't let one out of your sight for more than 2 seconds without worrying that they'll be snatched away from you. My kid will never know what it's like to be carefree and stupid! But at least she'll be safe.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

me either


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## Eagle Child (Jan 19, 2012)

Great, great stories, everyone! Oh, wow. I'm loving these.

Flygap! The stuff of motion pictures! 

My childhood only knew my prememory rides around the farm yard on Old Charlie and one golden afternoon of bareback, bridleless pony riding at a friend's house. Pure bliss. 

But my father's youngest sister and I WERE horses when we were little on Grandpa's farm. We galloped everywhere we went. Oh the imaginations we had. 

I don't think this thread is limited to the old timers. Everyone's welcome to share their good times.

Koolio, your story of riding in B.C. reminded me of my best two years with horses, back when I was in my early 20's on a dude ranch up there. Oh, wow. I had to go back and hunt pictures to scan. I couldn't find any of me on horseback, but did find some of the filly I gentled and the terrain on that beloved place in the foothills along the Peace River valley. I'll work on scanning some this evening. Velvet was just a rangy little brown mustang, but she was the first foal I'd ever been around from day one, and even though she wasn't mine, she was MINE. Know what I mean? 

The pictures are all wonderful, too!

Keep the stories coming! Young and old!


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## Eagle Child (Jan 19, 2012)

This thread would make a great book! I'd read it!


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

My husband and I have been long-time subscribers to "Country" magazine, and each issue has a section in it titled, "The Way It Was". One of my favorites was of a loyal country horse the kids were allowed to ride down (bareback and barefoot of course!) to the river on hot summer days. The patient horse would stand in the middle of the river as the kids would climb on her back and jump off - the author of the article said the mare would get to cool off, as well as the kids. When she got tired of it all, she would simply walk away to the shoreline and graze a little. 
What a delightful thread, by the way!! I'm only in my 40's, but have an old-fashioned heart


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

I also like Country Woman and Farm and Ranch Living


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

*A day out with the Hunt*

This tale is not of decades ago but a mere seven years . The sadness for me is that I'll not be up on those ridges again with the hunt - which is a sport under constant pressure in Britain from those that know little about horse riding and the place the hunt has in country society.
That's me in the group on the black and white gypsy vanner named Murphy.

A day out with the Monmouthshire

A picture speaks a thousand words. Here the followers are waiting for the terrier man over the edge of the ridge to dig out a foxhole. We followers were taking a breather and a swig.

This photo was taken on one of the ridges in the Black Mountains just north of Abergavenny in South Wales. It is an area of Outstanding Natural Beauty and as such is protected from further development. The few locals make their living either as lifestock farmers, or from tourism and sometimes by supporting the second home owners. Interestingly for Forum members, there are four trekking centres along the length of this one valley. If you are a competent rider, then it is a magnificent place to ride on one of the locally trained, sure footed cobs This is not the terrain for fancy Thorobreds, rather it is the homeland of the Welsh Cob. The hillsides have barely been touched by mechanised farming although the vegetation has been shaped by sheep, deer and rabbits. In the summer months it is a glorious place to visit, but in mid winter it is best to stay at home unless you are one of the hardy types. Access to the area is by private car or bike, there is no public transport. One stays in boarding houses or pubs, there are no modern hotels nearby.

There are two fox hunts which work this area. It is a fact of life that foxes kill lambs in the spring, so either the hunt chases them or the farmers shoot them. The local farmers will defend this policy. However without the fox there would be a plague of rabbits, so there is a careful balance for man to reach. Venison is also a source of income but the numbers of deer allowed to run free must be managed carefully. Buzzards and hawks of various types fly overhead. There are no other predators except man. 

On the day, the Monmouthshire Hunt had met in the grounds of Llanthony Abbey - an settlement founded in 1100 AD by a Norman knight named William de Lacy. Today the roofless ruins still stand but in the grounds there is a pub, a guest house and a small tea room plus, importantly for we riders, a trekking centre. It was from here that I hired Murphy, my trusty steed for a days hunting.

Hunting over this terrain calls for special riding expertise. Most of the chase takes place up on the ridges. To get up there the horse has to first climb the steep, loose tracks. The terrain is largely covered by bracken and pitted with rocks, clumps of vegetation and holes created by rabbits and foxes. The dark areas of vegetation usually indicate the presence of a bog, some of them quite deep. The local horses know where to put their feet down safely, the visiting rider hasn‘t a clue. When the huntsman blows that horn then the horses are off and surprisingly the unevenness of the terrain does little to slow the horses down. One minute you will find yourself on a sandy track, the next minute in a sea of bracken. One minute you are going uphill and the next you are going downhill. You’ll be lucky to catch sight of a fox and you‘ll spend the day chasing a pack of fox hounds and a man in a red coat. 

But there is a saying: “what goes up must come down” and towards the end of the day the huntsman will direct the hounds back down the steep sides of the ridges towards the lane which runs along the bottom of the valley, The horse will be too excited to walk, and the slopes are too steep to canter so invariably you’ll find yourself trotting downhill on a sandy path at a 45 degree angle on a 45 degree slope. The horse will be fired up with adrenaline, you’ll be exhausted as you start the descent and your muscles will be utterly destroyed by the time you reach the bottom of the hillside You can’t sit in, you can’t rise, so you stand to the trot. You daren’t lean too far forwards, you’ll put the horse on its forehand; you’ve got to lean back to help keep the horse and yourself in balance. You must give the horse its head to balance itself and thereby you give back to the horse control of both direction and speed of pace. There is no horn to cling to on an English saddle. If you fall you’ll roll down the side of the hill. Your feet are rammed home in the stirrup irons and one foot, is held higher than the other. Your legs are wrapped tightly round the barrel of the horse to stop yourself from sliding forwards. It is the grip of your calves and under thighs which keep you in the saddle. You are preying the horse doesn’t lose its footing. If it does, it might break a leg and you will wind up lying underneath it. It is one of those moments of a lifetime which you’ll never forget. There’s no subtlety, no style, no grace; it is a terrifying yet exhilarating ride. This was when my coloured horse Murphy excelled. He get me down without putting a foot wrong but in the process he destroyed me. I was physically shattered by the descent from that ridge. 

A regular criticism of ‘Murff ‘was that on a regular trek he was lazy. His day job was to carry riders up and down to the ridges. Unless you chivvied him along then he took it easy. He was also his own man and if he didn’t like the rider’s style of riding then he would rebel. But on this day I saw another side of him and I could not have had a better partner for the day. For this sort of terrain he had proved himself to be absolutely superb. We had reason to believe he was bred by Gypsies and if this is the stamp of horse they like to ride and pull their carts, then I can well understand why.

Some folks get the impression that Fox Hunting in Britain is one of the class dividing sports. With the Monmouthshire, hunting over this ground, nothing could be further from the truth. You were judged not by what you wore, or even the look of your horse - you were judged by whether you could keep up with the Master. There were no jumps but there were bogs and I know which of the two is the easier to negotiate. It was largely because of this day’s outing with Murff that when the opportunity arose I bought Joe who was his stable companion. But Joe ( a Gypsy horse of a different stamp) represented another series of stories.

(Actually the picture told 1145 words).


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

PS 
Oh I forgot to mention. We never had sight nor sound of a fox. Murff's day was to chase the guy with the red jacket, mine was to last out the day without falling off.


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## Eagle Child (Jan 19, 2012)

Totally awesome story, Barry. Wales looks like part of my native home here in the Appalachians, but I daresay I've not trekked at any gait on the steeper hills! Now once back in B.C. in my youth...


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## wetrain17 (May 25, 2011)

The "good old days" for me is being able to get on and go with out thinking of the consequences. It didn't matter what the weather was like or if the footing wasn't perfect; I just rode. I pushed my horse to his limits with out knowing it and looking back now it amazes me that he was always sound and always came running up to me in the field.

Now I understand the importance of training a horse properly and all the risks involved. Every move feels like it's calculated and planned out. I wouldn't change how I think now, but there are times when that inner child is screaming inside to just get on and go!


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

*The way we rode.*

Of course it is not just what we individuals remember. It was the way we rode. About ten years ago I wrote a draft book entitled The Happy Hacker. It was to help the aspiring rider who want to get out on the trails. Much of what I wrote would be classified as heresey today in the era of: heels down, toes up, feet straight, back upright, head high, horse on the bit and in a rounded outline, but somehow everything seemed to work the old way. Quote:

The Gallop

Noone seems to have been taught the Gallop, probably because it is a difficult pace to achieve in the training arena. All those corners get in the way. The Gallop is however without doubt the most exhilarating pace to ride, when mounted on a fit & competent horse. The terrain needs to be suitable ie mostly flat & preferably even ground. A gently sloping uphill grassy path is nice, because it tends to slow the horse down at the end. A beach is great if you’ve got the brakes. The rider must be able to see along the line of the ride because old ladies taking their dogs for a walk or young ladies pushing prams can inhibit the run. The gallop, out on a regular ride, usually begins at the same spot and the horses come to know it. As they reach the starting point so they get up onto their toes and they begin to fret at the bit. No one horse wants to be left behind and some horses insist on being up front. Too often with the ride leader, setting out initially at the trot, then moving up to the hand canter, then an extended canter and on to a controlled gallop, the line of horses and riders disintegrates into a mad gallop often from a standing start. Hilarious - so long as you know what’s coming, your feet are firmly in the stirrup irons and the reins are held short enough. Don’t try to hold the horse back - at best you’ll turn the horse away just for a moment or two - at worst the horse will buck, snatch on the reins and discard you out over the side or back over the rump. But the race has started. 

Rise up and stand in the stirrups in the forward position whilst locking your knees into the kneepads. Push your feet firmly into the stirrup irons, Shorten the reins so that you have a gentle but firm contact with the horse’s mouth. A good idea is to fold the reins over the horse’s neck leaving the reins slack enough to allow for the free movement of the neck. Hold the reins with each hand on either side of the neck in such a way that you can twist the hand and apply a minimal touch to the mouth on the the side of the turn or so that you can lift the rein to indicate a slow down. Leave enough rein to allow the horse’s head to move freely; keep the body weight evenly on each stirrup pedal; tuck the knees into the knee rolls - if there are any. Ride on your fork above the centre of balance. Keep the lower legs away from the side of the horse, at this stage it will just make the horse go faster. Lean forwards slightly so as to get over the horse’s centre of balance which will have moved forwards as the speed builds up. At the start of the run you won’t need booster power. Keep the legs down vertically, keep the toes parallel with the horse, with the heels pressed down Whatever you do, don’t lose one of your stirrups at the start. In most races you’ll be following the horse in front, but very occasionally you’ll be in the lead. When behind, try to keep well back from the rump of a galloping horse in the lead, if your horse is too strong then edge out to one side. If dust and stones are flying up, then move positively off to the side. You’ll need to see what obstacles are coming up, you’ll be able to steer but you won’t be able to pull up or even slow down. The horse will jump automatically any ditches or low fallen trees but it might baulk at anything over 3 feet high if it doesn’t feel comfortable that you can stay on. Feel confident, the horse doesn’t want the rider to fall off. At the gallop most horses like to feel the bit and through it, the reassuring hands of the rider. The horses even hope that if they do stumble or falter that you, the rider, will pick them up, by supporting the bit. Silly in theory but it seems to work in practice. A galloping horse has the momentum from the forces of motion to help keep it upright even when it slips but whereas in truth it has only four legs sometimes in times of emergency, the horse seems to find a “fifth” leg. 
Above all when in a spirited gallop, just keep your balance and your cool. 

All should go well on the run because a shot of adrenaline works wonders for both horse and rider. If the horse does stumble, then please don’t fall off, because at a minimum of 20 miles per hour you might hit the ground very hard, even if having rolled off the horse backwards which is unlikely. The horse won’t want you to fall off - it might throw him off balance and the horse knows it. The horse himself doesn’t want to fall. 
If a bend comes up, then don’t worry. When turning right, give the right rein a little squeeze, loosen the left rein, bear down on the right stirrup and lean just a touch over to the right. At the exact moment for the turn increase the pressure on the right hand and bear down on the right stirrup. The pair of you will steam round the bend. Just make sure that there is nothing round the corner blocking the path.

One other thing to watch out for is that your horse does not go into “overdrive“. Some horses can develop a galloping movement that is so fast that the slightest upset from baulking by another horse or from a hole in the terrain would bring about a very, very nasty tumble. 

The tricky bit on a gallop starts when you realize that the space for galloping is coming to an end but that the horse is not slowing down. Don’t panic. Shorten both reins evenly by just a touch and take up a firmer contact with the bit. Gently lift your back up towards the verticle. Say “whoah” - the horse might just listen. Say”whoah” again, maybe a bit louder the second time. Push down on the stirrup irons and freeze your body movement. Resist the horse’s rythym, indicate to the horse that you both need to slow down. Maybe the horse will slow, if it doesn’t then, pull back more firmly on the reins and try to shorten the horse’s head movement. If the horse still doesn’t slow, then increase the pressure and once the horse does respond then keep the pressure on the bit even but remember to start to ease off progressively as the horse slows down. Remember, always reward the horse’s compliance but punish disobedience. Keep calling out: “whoah”, but use a strong voice and don’t let your panic show. If there is a convenient tall obstacle nearby then steer towards it. Restrict the horses neck movement - he has to move his neck up and down to gallop.

If the boy is indeed being good, then say “good boy”. As you come down back down through the canter to the hand canter, gently settle back down into the saddle. Keep your calves and heels away from the flanks of the horse. When the trot is reached, at first rise to the upward thrust, but then settle into a sitting trot. Finally will come the walk even if only for just a stride or two. When the horse comes to a halt, give him a rub on his mane and say: “thank you for the ride“. Enjoy the memory.
Remember to relax after the gallop but be aware that the slightest incentive from either your horse or your companion’s might start the race again. Be ready to adopt the forward position once more and be quick to punish the disobedience - be rough if necessary. Stopping an excited, heated, fit horse is more difficult the second time around.

A bolting horse is mostly a frightened horse. At the start he won’t be listening to his rider, whose challenge it is to get him to listen, If he is merely startled then he should not go far. Tell him off for being silly but it is your role as rider to give him the reassurance that some nearby devil is not about to eat him. Even if he really is frightened, he has to develop the confidence that you, the rider on his back, will look after him. Punishing him for being frightened makes no sense - the horse needs to gain confidence and does not need to experience pain inflicted by a frightened or angry rider. 

A runaway horse, galloping away, out of control just for the fun of it all. He won’t listen to his rider and he deserves a sharp lesson. Steer the rogue up a convenient nearby hill, and keep him going until he is exhausted. Tell him off loudly. Make the devil sweat Keep him going even when he wants to stop. If he won’t slow down, then steer him into a tree or up against a bank. Frighten him. If you have a good seat consider dropping the reins. But always remember that a spirited horse can give a good ride, so long as you have a firm seat. Anyway the running away was probably all your fault for relaxing and letting him have his head at the wrong moment. 

Just one warning, never try anything which will cause him to fall over with you on his back - you’ll lose the game. Falling off a horse can dent your ego, falling under a horse can seriously hurt more than your pride.
Maybe now you can understand why most riding centres won’t take the chance of encouraging their horses to gallop with novices on their back, especially in a confined environment, Galloping is rarely taught, the rider tends to learn how to manage the pace and the horse by experience. But it can be a lot of fun.

Remember:
It is rare to fall off a horse galloping unimpeded in a straight line.
Don’t lose a stirrup iron at the start - you’ll have to go most of the way
with only one iron - terrifying.
Don’t follow too close behind the horse in front - it may stumble, it may
fall and bring you down and you’ll get covered in dirt, mud
, sand or worse - stones.
Look out for static rocks, soft sand, tree-roots & low branches. 
Steer away from them.
Watch out for pedestrians, dogs, balls, kites and above all, children.
Never, ever gallop into the unknown unless you have a death wish.


It is appropriate in some circumstances to call out at the gallop.
“Charge” is inappropriate and coarse.
Any combinations of expletives is rude and uncalled for - except 
perhaps for an initial: “oh s**t!”
A good acceptable call is perhaps: “G-eerrr-onnn-iiii-moooooooo”
.￼


PS “wait for me” means you’ve lost out. Get another horse.

This photo is of me on a young Andalucian gelding, having just glloped down a steep sandy bank. Note the seating position - all of the mistakes by modern day riding standards but Oh did we have a good day
And Seviano was the horse to enjoy it on.


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## AndreaSctlnd (Jan 17, 2012)

Barry, I too remember the gallop! 9 x out of 10 we were bareback and determined to blow the other away in the dust!

Wetterrain...we used to do the same thing. As an adult, and coming back to horses after YEARS of not being around them, I too am amazed how much my guy would have done for me. He must have loved and trusted me a whole lot. I was so clueless. Correct saddle size??? What is that? We used what ever one we had on had. Or often times none at all! Helmet? Nope. Boots, nah...

I remember one time when I was about 14 or 15 and a bunch of us were out just goofing in the woods when we came upon a gully. Above the gully a string of barbed wire was strung. Still not sure what purpose it really served but it was there nevertheless. On our way in, we all rode down the gully safe and sound up the other side...but oh not so much on the way out!

I don't know if Jo was just showing off, or if he thought the others were leaving him behind, or what but that goof decided to JUMP the gully landing me firmly entwined in that strand of barbed wire. Now, he didn't seem to mind that he was dragging me through it but once we got out of the woods, I kept telling my friends how badly my back hurt! They said, your back? You should see your arm. I had cuts that looked like a cougar had attacked me. My shirt was shredded and waving like a delapatated flag. I had blood pouring down my arm which was amazing as it didn't hurt at all! So we continue on our way...never thinking anything like oh, tetnus! That evening after everything was said and done, I go in to the bathroom and my friend walks in and shreeks! Holy Moly look at your back! I had about 8 huge gashes where the barbed wire had taken their toll. I turned to look at her and said, "I told you my back hurt!" LOL Those were the days! I sure miss them. But I will always have the scars as a reminder!!!


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

My first riding instructor was an older woman who part owned the stables. To me she was ancient, one foot in the grave and definitely well past her die by date as far as I was concerned! (She managed to live another 20+ years before passing over the bridge) 
Now Rene was a little but eccentric, the animals were her life and they all adored her. She had to be one of the best at starting young children riding - never in the arena but out on hacks where she would be at the back of the ride with two novice riders on the lead rein, yelling instructions to all in front of her. 
With the novices she never worried about their position, yes, we were told 'Heels DOWN' 'Reins shorter" 'Sit UP' but her theory was that you learned balance, your comfort zone and how to sit on a horse. Trot rising was never an option. You had to learn to do a geed sitting trot before being allowed to trot rise. The reasoning being that once a rider had learnt how to rise they would never want to do a sitting trot which is the basis to all good riding. I have found she was correct.

She gave us a very good basis making us all have independent seats, light hands and most of all confidence. She hollered instructions loud enough that she could be heard a mile ahead! WHen walking back home at the end of a ride we had to name the parts of the saddle and bridle, points of the horse and the names of different birds, birds and trees.
As we improved so Rene's rides got a bit boring and the bolder more (over) confident ones longed to be able to ride with either her partner, Alec, or one of the girls that worked there. 

Rene was selective over the horses she rode to accompany a ride. She had bad arthritis in her hands and could not take a horse that pulled.
I was still riding on the 9.20 ride on a Saturday. It was always taken by Rene and a mid way before being promoted to the next ride up. We were all cantering off the lead rein and joy of joy this particular winter morning we were going down to the beach. The only problem was that Rene was riding Alec's hunter, an Anglo-Arab that spooked a lot and could put in a hefty buck or three. We knew that this would mean no cantering.
On the beach we rode in single file behind Rene as she serpentined down the beach, the only time I ever recall her not being at the back of the ride.
At the end of the beach where there was a breakwater dividing the sand from the rocks, We were told to line up to play 'Simple Simon' I was quick to beg to be Simon and was allowed to do so.

I went through a few exercises some with Simon and some without. It never livened up the ride and the wind was cold so I said "Simon says, put your fet back in your stirrups."
When that was done it was "Simon says, pick up your reins."
I chucked in a non Simon command and then said "Simon says GALLOP" 
We did, flat out back along the beach, dangerously we were still galloping up the cobbled slippery slipway. Around two hairpin bends on the pedestrian walk to the beach, and onto the road.
These ponies never faltered in their stride. At that time there was still pony racing and some of these ponies competed and were quite willing to make the race along the road.
We went down through the village around two more sharp corners and then swung a left onto the road leading back to the stables. I was aware that a loose horse had gone past us making the ponies go faster determined not to be beaten.
At this point there were about five of us , the others had managed to pull up and were trotting to catch up. 
We stopped at the next junction and realised the the horse Rene had been riding was the leader! He stopped charging up the road when we all pulled up, ponies sides heaving. He trotted back to us with his head held high, tail cocked vertical and snorting like a stallion. 
When the others caught up we debated as to whether to ride back to the beach or to continue back to the stables. General vote was to go back to the stables and as we would be early we hoped we could have a few jumps over the caveletti in the arena. 
Fat chance! We were told to take the ponies back into their stalls and that was that.
Alec, infuriated that his horse had galloped home without a rider, decided to let poor Rene walk back from the beach - nearly all uphill and about 2 miles. 

I was expecting to be in deep trouble! I honestly never realised that it would turn into a race. However, Alec thought that his horse had dropped Rene and taken off with the ponies following and no one ever told him differently.
Poor Rene was back in time for her 11.30 ride and I kept a low profile.
Nothing was ever said and the following week I found myself promoted to one of the girl's ride. 
I didn't really deserve it.


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Foxhunter - you cad sir.

Poor Rene had probably walked those miles uphill, worried stiff that she might find one or more of you young oiks laying on the pavement, shocked, bruised, bleeding and crying. And there was you laughing and joking. 

I sincerely hope that you bought her a box of chocolates at Christmas.
After all, you owe that eccentric older lady for a lifetime of enjoyment of horses - did you not!


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## FlyGap (Sep 25, 2011)

Too funny guys!

Barry I wish we were not across oceans from one another! I would ride out with all of you in a heartbeat!
I think it all boils down to the sad fact that we are all too aware of our own mortality. Death used to be for old "bluehairs" who had always smelled funny, had sharp words, and were always seated in a ancient chair with an equally ancient blanket wrapped around their knees. I couldn't fathom in my younger years the fact that they had once been as young, wild, and interesting as I was. Thankfully I cared enough to find out otherwise and cherish their stories.

Funny how when you are young all you can think about is the now and not the what if's... What if she came up lame when we crawl up this 100ft. rocky embankment? What if she bolts and leaves me broken out in the middle of nowhere? Who is going to take care of my family if I ride out alone today and don't come back? How long is it going to take her to heal if I ride her in this 20 year old ill fitting saddle for 8 hours? How much is it going to cost if she becomes ill and I have to choose between the house payment or saving her life?

When my husband and I were dating we would pack up the horses and take off work for a week and go camping. Camping list was a tent, two blankets, a cooler full of beer, fishing poles for supper, and a lighter. We usually rode over 100 miles in those 7 days not fearing soreness or injury, just having good times and lotsa drinks! Not once did we worry about if the house was going to burn down or be burglarized while we were gone, we each owned our own homes at 22. But who cared? Good times! Let er burn!
We used to lay on our horses bareback STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO THE CAMPFIRE looking up at the stars. Our horses dozing in their halters, us talking and drinking, no worries. What if they had spooked and tossed our drunk butts in the fire! I remember us galloping bareback in swimsuits down to the river for a dip. I didn't care if there were varmit holes or if they'd slip in the mud. Once a giant Tom flew out of the grass right under my horses nose going full tilt and we didn't even flinch. I think I'd have a heart attack now, have a helmet on, and would be happy just walking him down the path.


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

Barry Godden said:


> Foxhunter - you cad sir.
> 
> Not sir last time I looked!
> 
> ...


Far to long ago to remember what present I bought her for Christmas. Probably my mother knitted her a woolly hat. 
You are correct in that I owe a terrific amount to her, not just in her giving me a good start to a long riding career but also some good lessons on life itself.
In all the years I knew her I never once heard her say a bad word about anyone. She always found something positive to say.
She was, what I would class as a good Christian woman.


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Fly, well how did you know about my chair, my blanket- you got one thing wrong though, the hair is grey not blue.

About the ride - yea, well OK. Good idea. But these days it has to be a safe horse and finding three ie one for you, me and Foxhunter might be difficult. Still I think I know where we could go,


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

Barry Godden said:


> Fly, well how did you know about my chair, my blanket- you got one thing wrong though, the hair is grey not blue.
> 
> About the ride - yea, well OK. Good idea. But these days it has to be a safe horse and finding three ie one for you, me and Foxhunter might be difficult. Still I think I know where we could go,


Well, you could always come here - N. Dorset, beautiful area for riding and I have plenty of horses that are sane and sensible.

Fly what state are you living in?


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

Barry, I did not see your lovely photos until later - Absolutely stunning!!! Having not been the the UK (but would love to someday!), they reminded me of those I've seen of James Herriott and the Yorkshire Moors, Beatrix Potter and the Lake District.... Beautiful country!


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## MangoRoX87 (Oct 19, 2009)

I remember back in the day, when I still had time to watch Spongebob.

Does this count? :rofl:


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## Turndial (Jan 14, 2012)

I spent my younger (and horsey) years in a country town in Australia (Albury). Never knew anything about saddles, proper attire or training the horses. We just jumped on to our big boys and went. 
My eldest sister had an OTTB mare, Ikea, and I remember that Ikea hated my sister but loved me and my friends. I'd ride her bareback with nothing but a lead rope to hold on to down the driveway which was about 0.5 mile long and into the paddock every day without a second thought. My sister wouldn't go near her without hat and whip. 
Knowing what I know now.. how little I thought about my personal safety with that horse!

Horses were around us all the time and we never thought or appreciated just how easy it was back then. We'd finish school and go riding barefoot in tiny shorts and spend the day lazing around. I have a poor memory for details because I don't even remember ever caring for the horses. Maybe we never really did? maybe my poor mum came home from work at night and sorted it all out for us lol

Now, you need to either marry well or be really lucky to have that kind of easy life with your horses!


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## FlyGap (Sep 25, 2011)

I'm in Arkansas Foxhunter. We live out in the National Forest, not nearly as manicured as in the UK! Pretty wild and rough terrain but it is breathtaking with waterfalls, small mountains, and breathtaking autumn foliage. Our area is listed in the top ten places in the US to view fall foliage. When I was 19 I backpacked Western Europe by myself and spent a month in the UK and Ireland. Absolutely lovely! Didn't spend enough time up north, just breezed through but watching it out the window was enough for me to fall in love with the countryside!

Thats another one of those Good Old Days stories! I was alone, and spent most nights in train stations and in parks. When I got tired and lonely I'd whip out the credit card and spend a few days in a particular town. Dublin, London, Prague, Pamplona, and Niece were my favorites! I'd loovvveee to go back.


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## trekpaard (Feb 12, 2012)

*my first horse ,*

when i was a young boy
















she was a little bit crazy , but a good horse .(die 1983))

and here,more jears later my first paint horse registered in texas south worth.
"red real" bought in 1996(die 2005)









and here , this mare i bought in 1982 








(die 2008)


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## Faceman (Nov 29, 2007)

FlyGap said:


> I'm in Arkansas Foxhunter. We live out in the National Forest, not nearly as manicured as in the UK! Pretty wild and rough terrain but it is breathtaking with waterfalls, small mountains, and breathtaking autumn foliage. Our area is listed in the top ten places in the US to view fall foliage. When I was 19 I backpacked Western Europe by myself and spent a month in the UK and Ireland. Absolutely lovely! Didn't spend enough time up north, just breezed through but watching it out the window was enough for me to fall in love with the countryside!
> 
> Thats another one of those Good Old Days stories! I was alone, and spent most nights in train stations and in parks. When I got tired and lonely I'd whip out the credit card and spend a few days in a particular town. Dublin, London, Prague, Pamplona, and Niece were my favorites! I'd loovvveee to go back.


Sounds like the Mena area...


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## FlyGap (Sep 25, 2011)

Kind of Faceman, we are in the Ozark National Forest north of I-40. You have some great country in Branson!


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Northern

The countryside posted is the Brecon Beacons where the wet warmer winds come off the Atlantic -

whereas the Yorkshire moors are hundreds of miles to the North on the East coast where the wind comes off the icey cold North Sea. 

The island of Great Britain enjoys a very changeable climate because of its location at the end of the Gulf Stream. Wales is wild - other rural areas in the South of Britain are green and really rather pretty.

What we don't have are the massive areas of empty landscape which you guys enjoy in North America


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

I have been to the uSA several times and thanks to the Internet stayed with some wonderful people who all lived in the wilds.
I have no care to visit cities, seen one and you have seen them all. To many people all in a hurry and little time for anything other than themselves.

I spent a wonderful time in Idaho, rode up into the mountains, met some wonderful ranchers and even went on a proper muster bringing cattle down from the mountains. Now that was an experience I will never forget!

As Barry says, it is the vastness of the country that I find fascinating. In the UK you can nearly always see signs of human habitation, it is great to get somewhere that you see nothing but countryside.

Barry is not exactly telling the truth, the rains might be slightly warmer in the Beacons but they rarely ever cease! 

Where I live is a beautiful area - coming from the top of the hill whether riding or driving the car, I never cease to be astounded by the view across the vale. The only time I do not is when I am riding and the rain is horizontal and the clouds low enough to cover the hill!

I do have many pictures but not sure how to put them on here!


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Yes in Wales the rains do come, and later the rains do go.

But if you know the way, you are never that far from a warm dry pub with a 
sparkling log fire. It is a question of whom you go with to show you the way.

But the Welsh Cobs don't really care whether the Sun shines or the rain falls - just keep your saddle dry.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

this thread brings back memories for me


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## Faceman (Nov 29, 2007)

FlyGap said:


> Kind of Faceman, we are in the Ozark National Forest north of I-40. You have some great country in Branson!


You must be north of the Clarksville area then - I could have sworn that I saw somewhere you were from southwest Arkansas. My ranch is between Morrilton and Clinton - not too far from where they hold the national chuckwagon races.

And yeah, Branson is a great place to retire to, although it is struggling with the recession like most areas dependent upon tourism...


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## Tonipony (Oct 4, 2009)

I was a fearless horse crazy girl. I didn't have my own horse at that time, but the neighbor man had a big bay mare out in a field about 2 acres big. The neighbor girl and I would set our alarms and sneak out of our houses at midnight and go ride that mare. We just got on her and hung onto her mane and she would run laps around the field. We were not smart enough to realize we left sweat marks on our midnight rides. One day the man stopped us on our way to school and asked if we would like to start riding her with a saddle....


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

the first picture is me on the pony I was 2 
the second picture when I was 8 
the others were me as a teen 15 or 16


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## FlyGap (Sep 25, 2011)

That was a GREAT story Tonipony! I LOLed!

Faceman we came up this year and spent some money! So great for the kid. Did the whole
Steal your dollar city thing and the butterfly palace. Branson is such a special place for us.
"Back in the good old days" my grandfather was a well known horse trader/trainer/house builder
and knew the man who started SDC and he wanted to partner with my Bob. Bob didn't think people
would drive all the way out there for an old time amusement park!!! I really wish he would have now!!

Foxhunter if you ever decide to come back to the states PM me! I've got some decent horses and we'd 
do our best to show you a good time! There are fox but everyone around here usually hunts off mules for
*****! No mustangs but there is a giant wild Jack that the people who owned the place before us
adopted and then it got loose and went feral, it runs with the deer and no one can catch it. I've seen it once
in 8 years at midnight.  The nearest food dive is 20 miles away but they serve the best diner food on earth,
and it's BYOB!


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

FlyGap said:


> Kind of Faceman, we are in the Ozark National Forest north of I-40. You have some great country in Branson!


 How ironic!
We live in the heart of the Manistee National Forest! The trees in my avatar are the back of our property line, adjoining it! 1000's of acres of wilderness beauty


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

Barry Godden said:


> Northern
> 
> The countryside posted is the Brecon Beacons where the wet warmer winds come off the Atlantic -
> 
> ...


It may be smaller, but photos I've seen over the years are very lovely nonetheless! Do forgive, but was the hilltop photo taken in England or Wales?


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

sorry that some of these pictures are fuzzy


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## FlyGap (Sep 25, 2011)

I would love to see them clearer CW! They look lovely! What a great looking pony in the second one!
_Posted via Mobile Device_


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

I hope this works


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

Foxhunter said:


> I have been to the uSA several times and thanks to the Internet stayed with some wonderful people who all lived in the wilds.
> I have no care to visit cities, seen one and you have seen them all. To many people all in a hurry and little time for anything other than themselves.
> 
> I spent a wonderful time in Idaho, rode up into the mountains, met some wonderful ranchers and even went on a proper muster bringing cattle down from the mountains. Now that was an experience I will never forget!
> ...


I agree wholeheartedly about visiting cities - we have no desire to go anywhere to view concrete and hear constant noise! I've had a keen interest in visiting the UK since girlhood, but not London. Maybe for a quick peek at Buckingham Palace, then I'd be begging to get to the country! It's the little hamlets with their thatched roofs that are more appealing..... As I've stated, I love the life Beatrix Potter chose, and good for her to save so much land! It's like an old English version of what my husband and I thoroughly believe in.
Where in the UK do you live? From what you describe, it sounds very nice. Probably a rarity, from what you and Barry describe as far as vastness. It is true about this country - there is so much un-touched land, and if you ever want to visit northern Michigan and view the Great Lakes, you are most welcome to stay with us here in the wilds


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

Fly Gap this is me when I was 15 
this was my friends Arab Quarter Horse she was around 6 here 
she had a nasty habit of biting and tried to bite me to 
but I did not let her and she never bit me again


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Northern Star - the hilltop photo was taken near Abergavenny in Wales.

Much of the centre of Wales is taken up by the Brecon Beacons and the Cambrian mountains. It is wild, hilly, bracken covered open land, much of fit for the grazing of wild sheep and little else. If you know where to look there are stoneage barrows, the foundations of Roman forts and the sites of battles long forgotten The only way to see much of the scenery is on horseback.
But even in the summer months it can be cold, wet and windy - a climate which accounts for the grandeur. It is a very different world from the better known tourist spots of Britain.

This is the terrain the Welsh Cob and Ponies were bred to work over On a good day it can be a paradise for experienced horse riders - so long as they can ride a horse within the community. Western riders are welcome.

Come see for yourself - fly into Cardiff or Bristol.


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

I don't have a map in front of me, but I have in the recent past looked at a lot of photos of an incredible area called, Snowdon or is it (Snowdonia?) A few years ago, I read a marvelous book titled, "Castles In The Air" - it was a dry humored, true story of an English couple who visited Wales (the wife was originally born there), and they fell in love with a very old, run-down castle called, 'Gwydyr Castle' (sp?), and became obsessed with buying and renovating it. The painful and humorous tale (once again, true) is so captivating, one cannot put the book down!!! This was all in the 1990's I believe. I've read the book 3 times over the past few years, had the librarian read it (she had been to Wales), and my husband. _*I definately recommend*_!!!
By the way, through blood, sweat and tears, they've done it! It is now a bed and breakfast as well... they have a website to view that is quite impressive for those of us who've read their story and all that it took to restore!


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## Northernstar (Jul 23, 2011)

Country Woman said:


> the first picture is me on the pony I was 2
> the second picture when I was 8
> the others were me as a teen 15 or 16


My favorite is the 1st - that was probably the day you fell tremendously in love with one of God's most majestic creatures... the horse!


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

Northernstar said:


> Where in the UK do you live? From what you describe, it sounds very nice. Probably a rarity, from what you and Barry describe as far as vastness. It is true about this country - there is so much un-touched land, and if you ever want to visit northern Michigan and view the Great Lakes, you are most welcome to stay with us here in the wilds


I am in the south, county of Dorset, setting for Thomas Hardy novels. I grew up on the Isle of Wight another lovely area but both areas have changed a lot in the last 30 years and not always for the best!

Not sure if this will work but there is a slide show on Photobucket of around here

<p><img src="http://b.scorecardresearch.com/p?c1=2&c2=6034695&c3=&c4=http%3A%2F%2Fm154.photobucket.com%2Fslideshow%2FFoxhunter49%2FDorset&c5=&c6=&c15=&cj=1" alt="*" /></p>

Isle of Wight

<p><img src="http://b.scorecardresearch.com/p?c1=2&c2=6034695&c3=&c4=http%3A%2F%2Fm154.photobucket.com%2Fslideshow%2FFoxhunter49%2FViews&c5=&c6=&c15=&cj=1" alt="*" /></p>


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

Northernstar said:


> My favorite is the 1st - that was probably the day you fell tremendously in love with one of God's most majestic creatures... the horse!


thank you Northern Star


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## xxBarry Godden (Jul 17, 2009)

Within ten miles or so from my house there are at least 6 castles.
Very romantic but a sign that in days gone by it was an unsafe area in which to live. 
The industrial heritage of Wales is in decline and they are trying to promote tourism. Overall it is a beautiful area - blighted in some areas because of the lack of work for the inhabitants who are reluctant to move away to find an alternative way of living.

Snowdonia is a mountainous area to the NW. The views up there are spectacular and the viewing point is a cafe reached by a small private railway. Not a place to take a horse.


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## Tonipony (Oct 4, 2009)

When I was a kid showing, you didn't have to have "Proper" attire. I had a 1/2 Icelandic, 1/2 POA gelding, he was 47 inches tall. He could jump 4 foot with me on him, bareback of course. Pony shows in Southern California were really big back in the early 70's. We went to a show in Diamond Bar and the jumping class had over 40 entires. Someone loaned me an old english saddle, it didn't even have knee rolls and it was wore out. I had on my western clothes. Some of the other girls snubbed me as they sat on their professional trained pretty ponies and I was riding my $50 pony. The first round 7 ponies made a clean jump and Echo and I were one of them. They raised the jumps for the second go around and the middle jump was high enough that 2 ponies ducked under it and no one made a clean round the second time. We were last to go. I remember coming up to that high jump and closing my eyes and hanging on, Echo cleared it with ease and we won the class. That was one of my most memorable wins from when I was showing ponies.


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## Foxhunter (Feb 5, 2012)

Tonipony said:


> I remember coming up to that high jump and closing my eyes and hanging on, Echo cleared it with ease and we won the class. That was one of my most memorable wins from when I was showing ponies.


I love hearing of this sort of thing happening! Glad the snobbery is not just confined to the UK.

There was a young girl competing on very cheaply bought ponies, scruffy as heck, but she beta the best.
Unfortunately she was good enough to ride representing the UK in ponies but to put it politely her family was so rough and the language would make the devil blush, so it was never going to happen.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

snobbery is here too at horse shows 
people who own horses think people who don't own them 
know nothing about horses and they don't talk to you


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## Patriciasdream (Jan 9, 2012)

Way back when....as a young teen I was introduced to horses and fell head over heels in love. I gave up my babysitting job and my boyfriend in order to muck stalls for free and ride every chance I got. No head gear and often bareback. I loved the fall when the leaves changed colors and the world seemed to burst out in reds, oranges and yellows. The weather was crisp but not cold, the flys and nats had let up you could ride for what seemed like forever. We would pack lunches and apples (lots of apples for the horses) and set out for the day. There was nothing like it. Jump forward many years and it is now a world of helmets and tack, proper riding techniques and shows......oh how I long for those old times.


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## Patriciasdream (Jan 9, 2012)

*the good ole days*

Way back when....as a young teen I was introduced to horses and fell head over heels in love. I gave up my babysitting job and my boyfriend in order to muck stalls for free and ride every chance I got. No head gear and often bareback. I loved the fall when the leaves changed colors and the world seemed to burst out in reds, oranges and yellows. The weather was crisp but not cold, the flys and nats had let up and you could ride for what seemed like forever. We would pack lunches and apples (lots of apples for the horses) and set out for the day. There was nothing like it. Jump forward many years and it is now a world of helmets and tack, liability waivers, proper riding techniques and shows......oh how I long for those old times.


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## Country Woman (Dec 14, 2011)

¸I had love horses as long as i can remember


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