When I went to bed on Sunday 6th August I was full of good intention for the next day. An update on the Little Viking Horse website was long over due, and I wanted to commit some serious time over the next week to working on my first children’s book, a fictional account of the early life of Little Viking Horse. A sort of modern day Black Beauty, with humour, Icelandic horses and a touch of National Velvet. Instead I was woken just after 1am by an explosion. Still half asleep I scrambled out of bed and poked my head through the bedroom curtains. My Land Rover was in flames. Not just a small fire, there were huge flames leaping eight or ten feet into the air, certainly higher than the height of my horse trailer that was parked right next to it. As I stared in disbelief there was another explosion. I phoned 999 for the fire service, and then could only watch as first my Landy, and then my trailer were destroyed.
The horses had taken themselves to the other side of the field, but I could hear one of them, probably Fleygur, making anxious nickers. I spoke to them and they settled.
My Land Rover defender had belonged to my husband, who died very suddenly last year. Since I lost my soulmate Roger, I have focussed on being positive, making my Plan B as good as I can, and the horses are part of that journey, one that have shared periodically on this blog, and on Little Viking Horse’s Facebook Page. Over this year I have worked hard to overcome my anxiety about towing the horses on my own, and had just got this cracked.
I sobbed as I watched my Landy and trailer burn, along with many personal possessions that held sentimental value for me. It disturbed me the the fire was arson, probably a failed attempt at trying to steal the Landy. Someone had removed the doors and seats and set fire to it, presumably to cover their tracks. Such a waste of an iconic vehicle. I say that not because I was sentimental about it, but because, despite their popularity Land Rover Defenders are no longer in production.
Selfish, thoughtless destruction, deliberate. Without a thought for others. What if it had been closer to the house? What if…..what if…… But it was not. Whilst it was distressing to watch, and some of what I have lost can not be replaced, I nevertheless was determined not to be defeated by this. ‘It was just a car’ I told myself. No-one was hurt, the horses are safe, and still my Plan B is a good one. I am fortunate compared to many, and after posting about the fire on Facebook I was heartened by the kindness of others yet again. People I did not know sent me good wishes and encouragement. I even had offers of horse equipment, CCTV, a gift voucher to ‘treat myself,’ and a complete stranger offered to transport my horses anywhere I needed to go whilst I got myself sorted. I appreciated all of the support I was offered, whether I needed it or not, the kindness of people shone through.
So I got to work replacing what I could, with firm plans to attend the remaining summer events with the horses.
My confidence in many areas took a knock when I was suddenly without Roger. Along with over coming my fear of towing this year, I have worked on overcoming my anxiety about riding, and I am finally making some good progress. Now when I arrive home from a ride, my overriding feeling is not one of ‘phew I made it”, but one of satisfaction, or even sorrow that I am back so soon. It’s a good feeling, and being able to ride and and enjoy Roger’s feisty Fleygur (aka LVH) is a real joy.
I just hope I can continue this when I take Svipur (aka Blondie on the Facebook page) to the final Show of the season in September. I have been pleased with our progress this year, and we even managed to win a second place rosette in a Four Gait* class at the Icelandic Horse Festival and British Champions in June. Not bad for a horse that couldn’t trot.
*Icelandic horses are naturally gaited. In addition to walk, trot and canter, they can tolt, and some can perform a gait called flying pace. These five gaited horses can sometimes struggle to establish trot. The Four Gait class requires you to show walk, trot, tolt and canter.
So my intentions of last week, to share with you more details of how Svipur and are working on improving his trot, and of how I have worked on my anxiety, were overtaken by events and will have to wait for a future post. The fire and the aftermath shocked me, and writing my book was stalled as well, while I sorted the mess. But now I am ready to begin again.
When I wrote my last blog back in July 2016 I intended to follow it up shortly after with some more of my story with Fleygur through the summer, but somehow the months have slipped by. I have missed the writing, it is cathartic for me and I thought often about what I would write, but it never made in on to the page. It is now nearly ten months since Roger died and I know that time alone is not enough to heal the pain of the loss. I have been on a journey over those months, one that I never would have chosen but nevertheless one that has taught me so much about me, those around me, loss, grief and resilience. I have had to consciously acknowledge and work on my feelings as I process my loss and make sense of my life.
Throughout last year I determinedly continued with all of the things that Roger and I had planned with the horses. I attended a riding clinic in May where I rode Roger’s horse in what would have been his lesson; entered Svipur in The British Icelandic Horse Championships in June, where I won the Elementary Tölt trophy that Roger had won two years earlier; took Fleygur and Jandi on a summer holiday to the Gower in South Wales; attended the ‘Icelandic Horse Summer Camp’ in August; and finally the Autumn Show at Oakfield Farm where Jandi and I won the Fancy Dress Class!
I progressed from being picked up, emotionally and physically by my wonderful friends in May and June, through quiet calm support and towing tips from my Dad in July, to packing loading and towing four hours on my own in September. Life had to go on and I did it with all the determination I could muster.
In August a house with a small paddock came up for sale in our village, and long term I couldn’t stay where I was as it was a short term rent. ‘When I am ready’ I said, ‘that is the sort of place I need to be’. It was near to the field I lease from the Church and I would have the support of my friends in the village nearby and the community in which Roger and I made our home. Then I realised, this was not just the ‘sort of place’ it WAS the place. So in October I moved home as well.
I had been back at work since June in a demanding senior job with lots of change and I wondered quite where my strength came from. I waited for the moment I would crash and burn. I knew I must be exhuasted but somehow I kept going. In that time I thought a lot about resilliance, where does it come from, how do you nurture it? It seems to me that resilience is to be gained from rooting yourself in your values and beliefs, your purpose, why you are here and why you do what you do. But its not just about looking back, it is also about looking forward with optimism to the future, or if you can’t manage to be optimistic at least with determination to get where you want to be and achieve your dreams. I like to think of it as a tree, putting down strong roots and reaching up with new leaves on its branches. Of course accepting what is and what can not be changed is a pre-requisite for this and an extract from what is commonly known as the Serentity Pray sums this up well,
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
My life with Roger is gone and I can not change what is, so I have to make the best of what I have. I am reminded often of a story told by Sheryl Sandberg, the Chief Operating Officer of Facebook, whose husband died suddenly just over a year before Roger. She talks about a time she wanted her husband to be there for her and the children and was crying to a friend. He said, ‘Sheryl Option A is not available so we are going to kick the shit out of Option B’. And this is what I am trying to do, in the knowledge that my option B, as painful as it is without Roger to share it with, is a pretty good one and in that I am fortunate. I have my home, my health, my family and friends, and of course my horses.
So what about those lovely horses? How was the rest of the year with Fleygur? Those of you who follow the Facebook blog will know that I have been riding him, and that in general things went pretty well. I focussed a lot on keeping him calm and spent a lot of time walking him with just short sections of slow or medium tölt. If he got too much I just got off and walked, the aim was to stay calm, him and me, it was not a battle of wills. We had a few little incidents, usually when riding in company where once something set him off he could be difficult to stop but I used the one rein stop where it was safe to do so and as my reactions and riding improved I learnt to sit deep and use my seat and body to ask for the stop. I also found someone in the village who was a good match for Fleygur, a calm, secure rider and this meant I could ride the other horses too. My bond with Fleygur grew strong, this feisty little horse, that I would have never chosen for myself, I think had begin to see me as his!
However as winter progressed work got busy and the weather got worse. Finding the time energy and motivation to ride got hard. I rode most weeks, but usually only once and although the I am sure the horses didn’t mind hanging about in the field, they really didn’t get the work they needed. More than once I thought that Roger would have been telling me I was mad to keep all four horses on my own. My confidence started to diminish, not just the riding but in my decisions about the horses care. The less I rode the more confidence I lost. Then a few weeks ago I fell off Jandi and was winded and badly cut my hand. I have continued riding but that knocked my confidence further and as Spring kicks in I know the horses will be full of beans, or rather Spring grass!
So what am I to do? Get help, that’s what. Roger always said this to anyone who was having a horse issue, and it is good advice. I have booked into all the Icelandic horse clinics I can, put all the shows in my calendar and am arranging for some experienced friends to come and ride with me and help me get all horses out and ridden. We all have confidence issues from time to time and I will get this sorted – there’s that optimism and detminination again. I can’t let my feisty pony down now can I?
In February I left my job, not because I had crashed and burned but because the time was right. I will still be working but in a more flexible way and I hope that this will give me time to explore my other passion of writing. I will have more time to blog about my journey with the horses, and who knows some Little Viking Horse stories or a book may appear too!
This last ten months have contained more significant and stressful life changes than I could have ever imaged but still, here I am, ‘kicking the shit out of option B’.
It’s the end of July, almost three months since Roger’s death and my feelings are still raw. Roger was such a big character, full of love joy and energy and the silence created by his continued absence is almost deafening. I miss his love and support in almost every aspect of my life and not least his encouragement and challenge in building our understanding of our horses and my abilities as a horsewoman.
Having decided early on to keep all four of our horses I made it my business to get on with things in my day to day life and with the horses, keeping to the commitments we had made together to attend a clinic for lessons in May, the Icelandic Horse British Championships in Dorset in June and our summer holiday with horses on Gower in South Wales in July.
None of this has been easy and although I have found purpose and some enjoyment my joy is lacking and I have cried a lot. I have cried more that I thought was possible and in a way I have never experienced before, from deep within my being and perhaps more wailing than crying. Not enough time has yet passed for the sharpness of the pain to diminish but nevertheless returning to work, getting on with life and working with the horses has been the right thing for me and what I know Roger would have wanted for me. I am not so sure he would have recommended keeping all the horses though; in fact if I am honest I am sure he wouldn’t have. He was far less sentimental than me about the horses and would have mostly likely have said I should be more realistic and reduced to two, ‘every horse needs a job’ he said and I won’t have time to ride them all properly. He would have been right but I am stubborn as well as sentimental and he knew that too.
In my last blog I wrote about taking Svipur and Fleygur to the clinic in May. Fleygur had thrown in some surprises and had been reluctant to go forward. With the help of the trainer, Karen I figured that he was confused by my signals and tension and that I had to develop a new relationship with him. So over the next few weeks I paid attention to Fleygur, knowing that he was by nature an anxious horse who didn’t like change and not knowing how Roger’s sudden absence and the change in his routine might be effecting him. I rode him out with friends and on my own but focussed on keeping the rides very quiet, mostly walking and if tölting then only away from home and slow or medium speed never fast. If he became too wound up at any point I would just get off and lead him until he was well and truly calm before remounting. On most rides this meant that I walked the last section home to ensure he arrived home quiet and relaxed.
I had told myself that I would probably have to walk him in hand a lot for at least three months to manage my own expectations and I told everyone I rode with that this was my plan to manage theirs! I set myself this minimum time so that I didn’t rush things or give up before my plan had any chance of working. I also changed one of Roger’s habits and stopped giving the horses a feed when we got back from a ride. Roger use to ponder about whether this was a contributory factor in Fleygur’s rush to get home and I figured they didn’t need it nutritionally during the summers months anyway so there was no harm in dropping the practice. Okay it was a ‘nice to do’ thing and Roger had described it as a treat not a necessity so in this I went for the practical option and cast Roger in the role of the sentimentalist.
I didn’t ride as often as I had meant to. Returning to work was exhausting and even though I had the light in the evenings I often didn’t have the energy to ride after arriving home and getting everything else done , including having to fix the electric fencing multiple times after Svipur had broken it down, or repair yet again Jandi’s sweet itch rug after he’d torn it rubbing. There was more than one occasion when I wondered about taking up one of the offers I had to take some or all of the horses to ease my burden. I thought about it but I didn’t do it.
I did begin to notice small changes in Fleygur though. He greeted me more noticeably in the field and I got more and more direct eye contact from him, and I even had one or two rides where he remained calm and steady through out. That felt good, but I reminded myself that this was what Fleygur could be like sometimes Roger would say he was ‘Mary Poppins’ meaning ‘practically perfect’ of course, and other times he would be wound up like a spring and it was rarely possible to identify a clear reason for the difference. I will return to my journey with Fleygur in part two of this blog post.
The British Championships were fast approaching and I had to decide what I was going to do. The last Show in May was just one week before Roger died. We had a great time as always and had been discussing which horses and which classes to enter at the BCs. It was going to be a big deal for me just turning up, never mind deciding what to enter, transporting the horses, camping on my own, competing the whole deal, but not for the first time members of the Icelandic horse community in Britain made sure I was not allowed to drift away. I was supported in my preparation, encouraged and even collected – me and the horses and driven to and from the Show, nearly four hours from where I live. I was fed, hugged and supported every step of the way.
I decided to keep things simple and entered Svipur in the elementary tölt class. This is the class where I failed to qualify for the final at last years BCs and the class that Roger won with Fleygur two years ago. It was a lovely trophy that sat proudly on our sideboard for that year and I had told Roger it was my goal to win it as well so that both our names could be on the same trophy.
Roger, worried that I would be disappointed tried to manage my expectations by telling me about all the up and coming riders and horses and urging me not to pin my hopes on wining it. I knew there were two mini shields left on the trophy and that meant just two more British Championships where I could realise my dream. Although I told no one, this was the reason I entered that class this year. I wanted to win the trophy with Rogers name on.
To accompany Svipur I took Jandi, for the experience and because I thought I might enter him in the Track and Trail class, the only class that can be entered up to the day of the show. This was the first show that Fleygur would not be at and I didn’t take him for two main reasons. Firstly as I have said before he was at his most difficult at shows and Roger and I often spoke of retiring him from competition as it was clearly very stressful for him. I didn’t think there would be anything to be gained in terms of my building my new relationship with Fleygur by over facing us both in this way. To go from a remedial programme of walking a horse for three months, ‘oh except for the bit where I compete him on the track’ in something that both he and I will find stressful would be nothing short of crazy. I also just didn’t think I would be able to control him on the Oval track and the last thing I needed at this point was a set back, for either of us.
The Show was hard emotionally though it was good to be among friends and people shared stories and spoke of Roger often. I cried as I prepared Svipur for the qualifying class and when we qualified in first position. I worked on my relaxation, knowing that in all previous years my performance on the second day in the finals was always worse than in the qualifying rounds and there was no doubt that this competition had a higher stake for me than any before. I entered Svipur in the Track and Trail class that evening because it would give me another chance to tölt him on the Oval track and because I had worked on obstacles with him and so I thought the class would be fun! We did a great tölt but were completely useless in the obstacles and finished up coming last, pretty embarrassing for a co-founder of the event but it didn’t matter I laughed all the way round and had a great time. I had offered a friend the chance to ride Jandi but to my surprise he was really playing up, napping and not wanting to be separated from Svipur so we were about to withdraw him when one of the British Team members, Charlotte Cook offered to ride him, be my guest I said. He performed terribly on the track but despite his reluctance Charlotte and Jandi did a cracking round on the obstacles and won the class. In the evening Charlotte was presented with the new trophy for this event The Roger Bax Award and she immediately gave it to me, as the owner of the winning horse to keep for the year. Of course I cried again. There are six more mini shields to be engraved so I have six years to win the Roger Bax Award myself!
Finals day arrived. I got ready in plenty of time and could feel that Svipur was more relaxed than the previous day which was good; a relaxed horse produces a better tölt, as does a relaxed rider. The judge’s comments from the previous day had said I needed more impulsion and I wavered about whether or not to ride with a stick. I don’t usually at home and although most people do in competition I find that I am more balanced and even in my riding if I do not and I use my hands more effectively, at the last minute I decided to go in without. At the end of the first round of the Oval track I was not completely happy with my performance and when I heard the scores I knew that unless I improved they would not be good enough to win.
I needed impulsion and to worry less about holding Svipur back, he needed to be able to find the speed he was comfortable with and carry himself and I must not inhibit him through my nervousness, so as we started the second round I urged him on with my legs and my core letting him go forward and felt his back end lift beneath me. I knew now all I had to do was stay relaxed and keep encouraging him forward and use my hands as lightly as possible. It felt so much better and I allowed myself to smile.
We were all called for a tack check at the end of the class and as soon as I dismounted I was in floods of tears as the emotional tension broke. Tack checked completed, recomposed and remounted we awaited the scores. We had won.
I will brush over the playing of God Save the Queen after the rosettes were awarded, as I know this new gesture was meant kindly and my friends were mouthing to me that they had asked for the Welsh anthem to be played, but suffice to say that as someone who is passionate about being Welsh and not a supporter of a monarchy it was a bit like when the South Korean flag was shown in the 2012 Olympics when it was North Korea who were playing, although probably a bit less likely to cause an international incident.
Roger would have laughed so.
In ‘Time and Feel – Part Two – Holiday in Wales’ I will write more about my journey with Fleygur and inspiration from one of Roger’s favourite horseman.
In my last blog I wrote about starting a new journey with Fleygur, without Roger. It was an easy thing to write after all I knew pretty quickly that I could not stand the thought of parting with Roger’s horse, but the emotional reality this week was hard, really hard. I struggled to cope with the necessary financial forms that had to be completed notifying the various authorities of my ‘change in circumstances’, and my emotional exhaustion made it hard to motivate myself to do anything, even to ride. I meant to, every day I said ‘today I will ride’ but I didn’t. Still the horses provided me with comfort as I knew they would and just visiting with them, spending some quality time and thinking about the new journey I am on with them all helped to keep me going and focus on the positives.
I remain overwhelmed by the responses I have had to Roger’s death (those are still the hardest two words to write) both from those who knew us and those who knew of us through this blog. I have had many messages of support and comfort and again I thank you for these. I want to assure everyone who has contacted me that I am receiving a huge amount of support from family, friends, neighbours and work colleagues, both practical and emotional. My loss has sharpened my need to write and I have chosen in this blog to focus on my journey with the horses and their part in my coming to terms with my loss, because this blog is essentially about the horses and our passion, Roger’s and mine for the Icelandic horse and my intention to share our learning and experiences with others. I know there are many facets of grief that I will have to deal with but they will not all feature here. I felt I needed to say this, to reassure those who have expressed concern for me and to be clear that the Little Viking Horse blog will remain essentially about the horses and what we can learn from them.
I say ‘our passion’ and ‘our learning’ still because in addition to my memories of our many conversations about our horses I have Roger’s note books where he recorded his thoughts and ideas as he sought to become a better horseman.
So with all that said I will return to the lessons I learned from the horses this week. I did not ride all week, but I did spend time with the horses. Gydja is on painkillers daily for her arthritis and so daily I needed to bring her in for a feed. I have long been able to lead Gydja with no halter just cupping my hand under her chin but now that she has discovered that there is a feed at the the end of our stroll together I do not need my hand either. At first Jandi and Svipur would try to get ahead of Gydja or block us at the gate to try to secure the food for themselves, but I was firm with them making them back up away from me and now just a gesture is needed, mostly, to check them and keep them in line. It very satisfying see them all trooping behind Gydja and I now they have learned their proper place!
Repetition and consistency, especially consistency will be important in my being able to handle four horses at liberty in the field. Icelandic’s are known for being ‘biddable’ on the ground and generally having good manners but these still have to be taught and maintained. It is very easy to create a pushy nippy horse and I have had to curb my natural inclination to give treats all the time for this reason.
I also thought about developing my relationship with Fleygur, of course he is the same horse but we need a new relationship. He is the most intelligent of our horses, learning very quickly but he is also the most anxious and was closely bonded with Roger quietly watching his every move and I did not know how all this was effecting him. So I decided that each time I went to the field I would greet Fleygur first and say goodbye to him last, usually with a scratch on his favourite itchy spot. Over just a few days he was more visibly acknowledging me when I entered the field and I was getting more direct eye contact, though one day I did catch him looking over my shoulder directly at the front door of our house – perhaps looking for Roger, who would have usually arrived after me?
At the weekend I attended a clinic that Roger and I had booked onto some weeks ago, my first time away from home since losing Roger. Friends kindly collected two of the horses for me and rather than camp as Roger and I would have done I was invited to stay in the house. These things made it possible for me to go though I won’t pretend it was easy. I cried as I packed, cried when the horses marched up to meet me when I arrived, cried before I got on Fleygur for the first lesson that would have been Rogers, and cried some other times too. I missed Roger hugely, and on Saturday lunch time missing that I could not share with him what I had learned that morning I took some time on my own and cried some more as it dawned on me ‘Oh my god, this is forever’. Feeling the need to hear Roger’s voice I read through some of his musings about the challenges Fleygur presented in his note book and thought back over my lesson.
It had started well, Fleygur is a forward going horse, very forward, and over the last year Roger had worked on improving his walk, getting him to stretch forward and down and walk in a more relaxed fashion. Karen, the trainer commented on how improved his was but then as I asked him to walk on a smaller circle he just stopped and wouldn’t move forward. I turned him and we tried again. He stopped. I backed him up and tried again and again he stopped. Was he testing me? I was more assertive and as I became more insistent with my signals to walk on he became more agitated, but he wouldn’t go forward. This was completely unlike Fleygur something was wrong. I was riding in my own saddle, a treeless Solutions saddle, could it be that? We took the saddle off, checked everything we could think of popped it back on and I tried again. He stopped. As I explored the problem with the trainer we realised part of the problem. Same horse, but different relationship, different rider…. different signals!
Out on on hack it didn’t matter, he was secure and knew the job well enough that some blurry signals didn’t get in the way but in the school out of his comfort zone, and mine, the accuracy of my cues became more important. I had been giving him mixed messages, my voice and my rein aide and the tilt of my body said ‘walk on’ but my seat said ‘stop’ and if in doubt Fleygur stopped. Not a bad default position. The problem was my tension possibly combined with the saddle I was riding him in where I could feel his back muscles and he could feel every bit of the tension in my seat. Roger had taught Fleygur an excellent stop using his seat alone, sometimes backed up with a voice command. If Fleygur did not stop on the button he was asked to back up six steps and the exercise was repeated. Instead of being more insistent I breathed out and consciously relaxed my seat and asked for the walk on again, bingo! For the afternoon lesson I swapped back to Roger’s saddle, a Trapezius (flexible panel) saddle, and concentrated on staying relaxed. This produced much better results but equally it was clear to me that forming a new relationship with Fleygur as my riding horse and building his confidence in me was going to take time.
The next day Fleygur was offered the opportunity of some downtime, as I rode Svipur in the lessons, but instead he choose to protest being left in the paddock on his and and charged around the place shouting and working up a bit of a sweat even though Svipur and I were in plain view all the time. I was pleased with Svipur’s performance and received positive feedback on my riding and our progress since the last clinic last year.
It was a tough decision to attend this clinic on my own but I am glad I did. I was surrounded by people who knew Roger and we talked about him often over the weekend. It was a supportive place to be and kept me connected with the community of Icelandic horse owners in the UK where Roger and I made many new and good friends.
Today we celebrate Roger’s life and bid him farewell and the horses will be part of this too. In writing this blog I have asked for nothing in return I just wanted to share our passion and experiences with our horses that others may enjoy and learn from them with us. In response to Roger’s untimely and sudden death I have received many messages from around the world and know that our stories, Roger’s, mine and the horses have reached many people, and some have asked if there is anything they can do.
Roger was a passionate and caring man and he cared deeply for those suffering as a result of conflict in the world, where ever they were. After he died I found an unposted cheque in his bag made out to the British Red Cross in response to their Syria Crisis appeal. Roger was very fussy about who he gave money to and careful with our money so I know this cheque was not written lightly. I have therefore have set up an page with the British Red Cross and if anyone wishes to make a donation in memory of Roger they can do so here http://www.redcross.org.uk/rogerbax
I have always known that being with the horses has been an important part of my relaxation and stress management but more than this, and particularly since owning my own horses I have come to realise how much there is to learn from just being with them. In striving to be a better horsewoman I have paid more and more attention to the subtleties of their behaviours and looking for that ‘gentlest touch and slightest try’ (Ray Hunt, much quoted by Roger Bax!). It hones your feel, reaching for your horses mind and body looking for a connection a way of communicating that brings harmony to your relationship and your riding. It’s quite a quest and I don’t for a minute think I have reached my goal. Roger was the one who loved the schooling and training, I loved to just ride! However Roger and I spent many hours talking about how each of our horses was getting on and being a big reader Roger spent hours and hours reading and we have a bookcase full of horseman and horsewoman wisdom and many DVDs of our favourite trainers. More and more I used horse related analogies when tackling issues at work and I know we were both quite capable of boring others on the subject of our horses but it was an endless source of connection and shared passion for Roger and I.
We were however very different riders. Roger was what I would call a ‘hot’ rider, there was a lot of energy in his riding even though he never appeared to move! .
Roger had more varied and longer experience with horses that I did. He had owned horses most of his adult life, rode with gauchos in Argentina, went to see clinics the States, trained his own western schooled horse and later played Polo. Somewhere between his Western riding and playing polo however he lost some of his gentle touch, sometimes a lot of it!
However although he was not short on opinions or afraid to share them he could also be humble. ‘Horses are a lesson in humility’ was a favourite saying and he sought lessons, help and ideas from a range a sources and worked hard on his riding over the years we had together. For the last few years I have watched Roger explore and develop his riding and regain more and more of his gentle touch as he drew back on his Western experience and studied classical riding but he always enjoyed the speed of a powerful horse. For my part I have always favoured quiet horses and can quickly lose my nerve if my horse becomes difficult to handle for some reason. I learned an enormous amount from Roger and he was humble enough to credit me with improving his relationship with our horses and challenging his ‘hot’ riding when I thought it was getting in the way.
So why do we need to talk about Fleygur? Fleygur was Rogers horse. I thought he was mad to buy him. Fleygur had been much loved and well cared for, certainly his weight was better controlled by his previous owner, but when we went to try him he had not been ridden for some time and obviously had separation issues from his mare. When Roger rode him out of the school and away from the mare he was clearly struggling to control him and there was no way I was getting on! However as he didn’t ‘buck bolt or rear’ even under extreme stress Roger decided that there was a good horse underneath all this and so he bought him.
This blog has already documented much of their journey together from scoring 1.8 (out of 10) at his first competition to his later rosette winning and riding in Rogers favourite class the T1 Tolt – the one where he could ride really really fast! A hot rider and a hot horse. But he did also refine his riding and control and I nearly cried one year because I was so proud, when Roger and Fleygur did a really nice Four Gait performace and they looked so good together and not at all out classed.
The day Roger died we went riding. Roger hadn’t been to the field for a few days as he had been unwell, we thought with flu. As I brought Svipur and Fleygur in from the field with Rogers brother-in-law Roger was waiting at the gate talking to his sister and as soon as Fleygur heard his voice he pricked his ears and nickered to him. Rogers horse.
One of the many things whizzing round my mind that first night without Roger was what to do about the horses. I didn’t see how I could keep them all, it wasn’t practical. How would I keep them ridden and properly cared for and then there was Fleygur. Famous, funny, fiesty Fleygur. I rarely rode him, he was too strong for me. Rogers horse, how could I part with Rogers horse? I couldn’t, but I might have to.
I was inundated with offers of support with caring for the horses, not just from the Icelandic Horse community in the UK but also from people in the village. It was heart warming and my hope grew that in the middle of my grief at losing Roger I was going to be able to keep the horses who I was sure were going to be such an important part of me getting though this.
However just looking after them was not the issue I was most concerned about. I knew I had to ride Fleygur and soon, I had to know if it might work. It’s not that I haven’t ridden him before but always with Roger and always with the possibility that I could swap back if I needed to. It’s not that I lacked a positive connection with Fleygur, he knew me and I recently taught him to self load into the trailer having had success with Jandi, though with Fleygur I only needed to show him once. I was also reminded by a friend that in the early months of owning Fleygur, when his behaviour was at it’s worst and Roger developed back pain Roger had considered selling him. As a last resort and because I was too sentimental to allow Roger to sell him I offered to ride him and Roger rode my armchair cob, Beanie. For three months I rode only Fleygur and gradually he calmed down. Rogers sister also told me that Roger had said recently to them that I had been the one that had ‘sorted out’ Fleygur initially not him. Maybe I can do it again?
So this week I rode Fleygur, with a friend who is a trainer and judge as back up! As usual Fleygur was nice and calm on the way out and a feisty little bugger on the way home. We also had a scary moment on the bridleway when two very big dogs ran barking at a gate we passed, the horses coped with this well but when a man popped up suddenly from behind to wall (to apologise for his dogs!) both horses decided to try and leg it. Fleygur turned and tried to run and for a brief moment I thought this was it, I was about to be in a head long bolt on a horse that was too strong for me, it was not going to work. Then I remembered the one-reign stop. My emergency break. Roger had been teaching the horses this in recent months and had made me practice it. I dropped my right rein and pulled the left in a straight line back to my left hip, moved my left leg back to ‘disengage’ Fleygur’s hindquarters and he stopped. I didn’t have to be strong, just accurate and quick. I did it. Thank you Roger for this extra tool in my kit bag. After a short break we carried on with our ride and sure Fleygur was a bit on his toes and fiesty but he did listen to me and his clear four beat tolt is lovely to ride.
I am still struggling to comes to terms with my loss. I feel unbelievably sad. Some people say I am being brave, or that I shouldn’t try to be brave but I am not doing either, I am just trying to deal with is, accepting what can not be changed even though my heart rails against it. The simplest tasks are really hard to start and even harder to complete and often when I am not expecting it the tears flow. The Celebration of Rogers life with his family and friends is not until 1st June and I know that I have a long way to go to deal with my grief but every day my interactions with the horses give me some peace and some smiles. It was a strangely emotional thing to get on Rogers horse, last ridden by Roger the day he died, but I am so glad I did. Now I am going to start my own journey with Fleygur without Roger. I don’t know how we will do, how long it will take or if we will succeed but we are going to give it a try.