I was getting more students by the week. I needed goals for them. I needed to, and wanted to, broaden my equestrian base. In the ‘70’s, you didn’t need some sort of degree to be a riding instructor. Quite honestly, though I never lied about my background, I also never mentioned to my first student with a horse for me to train with, and for, her, that she was my first. Her horse finally turned out well, and she and both of her brothers took lessons from me. In fact, I learned as much from MJ’s horse as I taught. Eva was really stubborn, and had all the PMS tendencies that my own school mares never had, so I learned to appreciate that such tendencies do exist even in horses, and tried to be sympathetic (somewhat) when students used that as an excuse for a funky lesson.
I brought ring/rail work, cavaletti, jump work and trail rides into my lessons. We had playdays and Christmas drills, as well as vaulting, but I wanted to get my students to shows, as well. Bene was the main reason I was able to do this.
We bought a little two horse trailer as soon as we could afford it, as well as a towing vehicle: a Dodge half-ton van. The trailer was too small for Bene. Again, I hadn’t yet subscribed to Practical Horseman and learned that trailers came in different sizes! Poor Bene got squeezed into a standard Quarter horse trailer with a solid to-the–floor divider, and we just couldn’t figure out why he scrambled when we turned corners. When he and Hashy were both in our first trailer, it was stuffed. I had, meanwhile, become a charter subscriber to Equus and read my friend’s copies of Practical Horseman and saw the error of my way. We traded in the two-horse and got a roomier four horse stock trailer. The horses and I rode more easily, and I could take students’ horses to horse shows.
Bene was never a great school horse. His size intimidated many of my students. He took a finesse seldom achieved by anyone including me to get on the bit or even collected, so he didn’t do particularly well in flat classes. He didn’t pay much attention to bits. I tried them all. In lessons, he never ran away with students, he just didn’t exactly halt when asked. His canter to trot or canter to walk or trot to halt, any slowing transition, was veeeery slow, beyond deliberate. Nor did he give in his jaw or flex much. This presented problems in classes with a horse in front of him, like in the show ring. Because he was big and had a long stride, I simply had to teach his riders at shows to suck it up and circle him when downward transitions were asked for, to avoid slamming into the horse in front of them.
At this point, one might ask why I put up with this, or what kind of instructor was I, not to be able to do a better job of training. Well, for me, Bene was what I needed. Maybe not always what I wanted, but he definitely had his good points. In the hunt field, once I put him in the most severe bit I could find so he wouldn’t bowl over the horse in front of us, he went on forever. In one memorable hunt at Chatsworth, on a spring day that could only be that hot in Southern California, every other horse in first field had overheated and their riders asked to be excused. The field master’s horse and I were the only ones left, and we stopped a few minutes to let our mounts get their breath. We then turned for home, jumping everything in our way. It was grand! Another time, at a local horse show, in 114 degree heat (I am absolutely not exaggerating), Bene and I won the highpoint that day in jumpers, because other competitors wussed out. Heat did not ever affect his performance, and that is a plus in Southern California. Further, though he was strong as an ox, I am no lightweight; at six feet, I have never been fat, but there is a lot to me, including long legs.
And my legs are what held him. They are my best part. I learned from a young age to clamp those suckers down. I never enjoyed being thrown, and to this day, my leg strength has saved me countless times. When I used my seat and legs, Bene listened.
Also, I learned to appreciate a German martingale. You can buy the ready-made ones with rings on the reins for the clips from the martingale part, or you can use a length of soft rope or longe line through the ring of your breastplate through the bit rings to your hands. In either case, you can create an experience that will encourage your horse to give to the bit. I have always been very careful when I have my students use this piece of equipment. There are plenty of trainers that consider draw reins and German martingales a crutch but I have horse/rider pairs that simply would never have been successful without them, the same way you need to use a leash or choke chain on some dogs before they heel perfectly without one. The martingale does many things when used effectively: your horse understands he can flex, and at the same time, by doing so, builds the muscles that support correct flexion; the rider can sit correctly without being pulled forward, and builds the muscles to support correct posture. Both learn what it feels like to work in a correct frame. Under my direct supervision, students and horses using German martingales always do better for the specific problems that need to be addressed. Then you go forward without it, as indicated. As it so happened, Bene won me a great German martingale set as First prize at a show. I still have it and still use it all these years later, but I got the most use out of it with him!
I finally got to a 3-Day Event! In 1976, the Bicentennial year, we went to San Diego Country Estates, to an event sponsored by the SDCE Stables and spent the night in our van, with Bene tied outside the horse trailer. Another learning experience. Listening to your horse munching on hay, then pawing for what he can’t reach, and slamming the (now) empty water bucket against the side of one’s van, all night, is not conducive to a winning endeavor. I made it through the dressage test passably, but the cross country was an eye opener. I was tired and I couldn’t understand why all these people were wandering around the place. After all, we had a map of the jump course. I was used to the show ring, where you memorize the course (naturally), watch other people go round, and then do it. I had the order of the jumps on cross country down pat, because they give you a picture/map. But, I figured, if these people were walking out there in the great big field, maybe I better, too. I had planned on just watching two or three goes to see how it was done. The jumps I could see looked like a lot of fun. That’s when I heard about Roads and Tracks (simply a timed distance to warm up for the cross-country phase), which were still done in those days, even at Training level. I realized that, obviously, if I were riding in one timed part, I could hardly be watching other people. So, I followed the people around who were walking from jump to jump. I realized this was a good thing, because some of the jumps were in pretty wild places, like the crotch of a tree and a very wide ditch that you evidently had to sort of slide down, jump at a certain point, climb out of, and continue on. By the time I figured out that my Roads and Tracks time was getting pretty close, I barely had time to tack up, get to the starting box and begin that phase. The trot time during Roads and Tracks gave me plenty of time to wish I had read about and learned a whole lot more about this sport. Remember, I hadn’t had 3-Day lessons.
Pretty quickly after Roads and Tracks, I was in the start box for the CrossCountry phase. To say we were bold is an understatement. I still have the picture one of my students had done on a silk screened T-shirt of us doing this very big water jump where you jumped hay bales in front of rails into a pond. My original business cards were a silhouette of Bene and me at that water jump. The slide-y ditch was cake: we jumped it from lip-to-lip—l didn’t want to lose time doing that sliding and climbing. Unfortunately, we were eliminated because I forgot a jump. I zoomed right by the one after the tree crotch because I didn’t mark it on the map, nor did I walk the course more than once or repeat the course orally to someone reading the map--all things I require my students to do. Of course, I was perfect in stadium jumping--they let eliminated people go last if there is time enough, and there was.
Nonetheless, I had found my thing. I had something to specialize in. I knew what I had to do to improve, and to teach this sport. Also, 3-Day incorporated all the disciplines of horsemanship--I could teach students for years before I ran out of ideas! Bene took me to Pebble Beach,