Riding Bareback

When I was a teenager I rode my Morgan bareback through the fields and woods.  One of my favorite places to ride was a hay field where there was a tractor road along the edge of the field.  In the early morning mist, my horse and I left the arena, walked down the dirt road, across a stream, and up a hill through the Queen Anne’s Lace and Black-Eyed Susan’s growing along the edge of the road.  At the end of the field, we stood for a moment, gathered in anticipation; I counted down and screamed, “Go,” at the top of my lungs.  Body over my horse’s withers, clinging on with my knees, my hands wrapped in his long black mane, his muscles bunched and he took off, legs furiously covering ground, his ears pinned back flat against his head, we raced to the other end of the field.  The rush of exhilaration always took a minute to subside, and we pranced into the next field, until the tall green grass enticed my horse to graze while I lay flat on his back drinking in the morning sunshine.

Except for those morning rides, I think that the picture of me riding my horse bareback with us in harmony was probably more of a figment of my imagination.  He often pranced and jigged on trail rides, especially coming home.  I could not manage to sit his trot bareback, no matter how many strategies I tried. I essentially skipped trot, instead we walked and cantered and galloped.  If down transitions from canter to walk had some trot in the middle, they invariably had me bouncing and slipping with my teeth being jarred out of my head.

So what did I expect, after all these years (I am now 50 years old) of riding in a dressage saddle, when my instructor told me I should ride my horse bareback to give both him and me a break?  It would be relaxing.  Ha.  Relaxing!  Perhaps she would be relaxed, but I had visions of me clinging and bouncing on my 4th level dressage horse.  I figured it would not be pretty, but I was game to try anyway. 

So I got on.  Courtesy of the tallest mounting block that I could find at the barn.  Remembered when I used to park out my Morgan, run to him, and leap on his back.  Yeah.  That was so not going to happen.  First of all, I am pretty sure that my Lusitano would have been horrified to have me running and leaping and I was not about to provide entertainment to the other boarders.  I had to remember that I was a different rider now.  I did not grip with my knees anymore.  I had spent years learning how to relax and move with my horse.   I had spent hours on the longe line riding without my stirrups.  What was the big deal?

So walk was okay.  I practiced breathing and put the non-relaxing images of me looking foolish out of my head.  I worked on putting my leg as if was in the saddle, just without my stirrups. I did some lateral work and noted the movement of his back under me.  I noted the amazing amount of sensation I had.  Then it was time to trot.  Tentatively.  Trot with my leg loose.  Trot with my core holding me up and centered.  Balance.  Because balance was all I had without my knees gripping and without my hands wrapped in his mane, although I did cheat a little and held the top of my saddle pad.  So trot was okay. Until we got a bigger trot and I found myself gripping just a little, which caused some bounce.  And bless my horse – he changed his trot so that I could relax again vs. going faster which is what my Morgan used to do.  My Morgan tried to run away from my imbalance and gripping and hanging.  My Lusitano changed his gaits in order to help me.  

It was actually canter that was the most difficult for me to ride bareback because I had to ride canter in a dressage seat vs. up in 2-point.  I found myself gradually drifting off of my inside seat bone and the saddle pad and me sliding.  My horse decided that was enough and broke to trot, and all of my instinctive gripping came back, causing me to grab mane until my brain overrode my body’s tension and ordered everything to relax and un-grip, which helped.  However, walking again was a relief.

Gradually, with my horse’s help.  I found my seat in bareback.  Gradually, I was able to go between walk, trot, and canter with confidence.  Gradually, I was able to attempt some lateral movement in trot. 

And eventually, I was able to sit tall and happy and relaxed doing shoulder-in down the long side in a lovely trot and switch to haunches-in and to canter and back without feeling that I was going to be a disaster waiting to happen.