IT'S ALL ABOUT THE BASE...OF THE NECK

Qrac and I at a show in the south of France, September 2015

Qrac turns 12 this year. I can hardly believe it's been five years since my trainer and I moseyed on down to the south of France to look at a seven year-old Lusitano stallion we knew literally nothing about, that someone had suggested we go see. It seems like yesterday that she and I were led down a short, dark corridor housing a collection of Cremelo Lusos with light blue eyes and bright pink noses, our enthusiasm sinking deeper and deeper into our mud-splattered Timberlands. I know that a lot of people love Cremelos, but they just don't do it for me. Just as she and I glanced at each other, simultaneously thinking we'd wasted an entire day travelling, there, right in the very last stable, right at the back, stood a gorgeous black horse with soft, almond-shaped eyes, a beautiful big neck, and a tiny white kissing spot on the tip of his velvety nose. Oh, and he smelt really good, too. Most horses smell good, but I swear that Qracy smells particularly yummy.

They saddled him up, and I got on, and despite him not being anywhere near as advanced in his work as would be expected for a seven-year old, and that riding a super-short backed, mega reactive, uber-wiggly Lusitano felt really strange after having ridden warmbloods all my life, I totally fell in love with Qrac de la Font. 

Five years down the line and I'm still smitten. It hasn't been easy, and we're still not as advanced in our work as we "should be" (say the text books, but text books are, well,  just text books), but we've come a long way since that first drunken zig-zag across the circular walled arena just south of Avignon. I'm tickled that I thought Qracy looked all big and manly back then! Compare  his "then and now" photos and it's hard to imagine they feature the same horse. 

Qrac, January 2016

Qrac, February 2011

I'm probably (alright, make that definitely!) biased, but I think that Qrac has the wow-factor. His massive shoulders and neck are the subject of many a grooming-area conversation while I'm tacking him up. He isn't an easy ride, has a stubborn, macho personality and keeping his attention focused on his work is always going to be an issue. His spins are legendary; he has an insane ability to drop his shoulder and spin left in a mini-fraction of a nano-second when he decides he's had enough. I've got a lot better at controlling his naughtiness and his spins, at sensing he's about to blow just before he blows, but there are times when he still gets me. Everyone who knows horses knows that patience is a virtue when it comes to training, but Qracy has upped my horsey patience virtuousness big time! He get's his knickers in a twist for the silliest things and is always full of surprises. I suppose professional people wouldn't give him high marks for "rideability", and yet while I find his bag of tricks frustrating at times, his monkey antics have also taught me a heck of a lot. Yes, it really is all about the base....of the neck. And that big neck, those big shoulders, that short back and that pesky personality are a constant challenge.

Qrac has more gears than most horses. He has about 47 different trots, yet until a few months ago he didn't have an extended trot at all. Desperation was beginning to set in when, thanks to Irish National Dressage Champion Roland Tong, the amazing trainer I discovered early last year and who now flies to Geneva every month for two-day clinics at my stables, Qrac and I suddenly twigged it. I'll never forget that one magical session last October when Roland had us careering around the arena, yelling at me to "keep going, keep going, I want him to go go go, like a show horse at an auction"!  I was red in the face, sweating like a nobody's business, mortifyingly aware that little Qracy's long legs were whirling away like an uncoordinated can-can dancer on crack, when all of a sudden everything became smooth, powerful and rhythmical. Even the light played a part in that memorable moment; it had been a grey, grumpy-weathered day, and I was riding late in the afternoon. During my lesson the sun came out between clusters of bruised clouds, slipped beneath the level of the roof of the indoor school, spearing us with wild laser beams of golden light. Lights, camera,  action! Yep, it was epic! Ever since, our extended trot has been far more consistent, and I truly believe that Qrac now enjoys showing off his newfound ability. 

The day we twigged the extended trot, October 2015

Our current challenge is mastering the flying change. Qrac can do them beautifully, but most of the time he only does them beautifully when he decides to do them, and not when I ask him to do them. He's a very compact, very wiggly, very hot little horse and controlling the placement of his shoulders and his haunches can do my head in. I have his back, and then I don't, and then I do again, and so feeling, precision and timing is everything. Right now I'm working hard with my long time trainer and friend, Marie-Valentine Gygax (with whom I found Qrac five years ago), at keeping the quality of the canter and counter canter,  at keeping control of the shoulders, at keeping him straight, at getting more bend, at keeping his mind busy by using leg yield and shoulder-fore and haunches in and (big) pirouettes and half-passes and small circles and half circles and you name it we (try to) do it, making sure he's truly through his body before I ask for the change. It's coming, slowly, very slowly maybe, but it's coming surely and I think we're going about it right. I'm armed to the teeth with patience, and I'm trusting that patience, together with the help of my two fabulous trainers, will get us doing Prix St Georges (at home, not in competition) before the end of 2016. That, to me, would be an amazing achievement. 

What has taken you a long time to master? What are your horse's strengths and weaknesses? Have you found particular ways to work through specific training issues?  What are your goals for this year? 

Thanks for reading, and a happy mega-belated New Year!

Francesca xxx

My Lungeing Quandry

Do you work your horse on a lunge line? Despite having been involved with horses for decades I’m a bit of a newbie when it comes to lungeing. In fact, I don’t think I ever lunged my first two horses, Kali and Amanda, which seems strange to me now, particularly as far as Amanda was concerned. That highly strung mare would definitely have benefitted from being worked on the lunge, but seeing as nobody ever worked their horses on the lunge at that particular yard, the concept never even entered my head. I didn’t lunge my third horse, Monty, much either. Truth be told, I didn’t have the opportunity to do very much of anything with him, as I only had him for two years, the majority of which were spent recovering from broken limbs (I broke my leg sledding soon after getting him and was out of action for nine months, and, soon after I recovered, Monty threw me off, shattered my shoulder and nearly fell on top of me, whereupon I gave him to a good home and quit riding for seven years).

Kwintus, who has now been retired for close to a year, was clearly accustomed to lunge work (we bought him as a fifteen-year old schoolmaster), but due to his stumbling problems we soon decided it was best avoided. But when seven-year old Qrac came into my life earlier this year, I immediately knew I’d have to learn how to lunge him. The person who took care of Qrac while he was being sold always lunged him for ten minutes or so before riding him, so I initially felt I should do the same. It was reassuring to allow my horse to get rid of any excess energy before I climbed on, not that he ever did. Qrac has always been very well behaved on the lunge and impressed me from day one with his response to verbal cues. I suppose most horses do the same, but with my lack of experience, the fact that he springs into trot whenever I say “Qraaaaaac; au trot” (I tend to speak French to him when I lunge him) still astounds me. I think he’s such a clever boy!

What I’m still uncertain about is whether I should lunge him in draw reins, or side reins, or something. My trainer, Marie-Valentine, always lunges horses in draw reins. She says they don’t work properly through their backs if they’re not coaxed into a long and low frame. So when I bought Qrac I set out to buy a lunge, a surcingle and draw reins so that Marie-Valentine could give me some lunging lessons. But who would have thought that finding a surcingle to fit a Lusitano would have been so complicated! Regular horse-sized ones were way too big for him, and none of the shops around here carried anything in between “pony” and “horse”, so for the first few weeks I simply lunged him “au naturel”. I eventually found him a cob-sized one that fit fine, but by that time Marie-Valentine was busy travelling around Europe, going to shows with some of more advanced students, so I only managed to have one lesson on lunging Qrac with draw reins. And being a world class worrier, when it came to having to do it alone I got all freaked out about adjusting the damn things. Were they too slack? Too tight? Was he holding himself right? Was he too tense through his back? Was I doing it right? So worried was I about doing it wrong that I soon took everything off and went back to lungeing him “au naturel” again, which, from what I sensed, was what he was used to anyway.

In fact, from what I’ve seen on the Internet, it seems to me that most Iberian horses are lunged without draw reins or side reins or any other equipment to keep them in a frame. My other trainer, Greg, prefers to lunge horses without restraints; he says that what good lungeing really comes down to is observation.

I’ve lunged Qrac about twice a week for the past few months and he seems to be doing fine without draw reins. I watch carefully, talk to him a lot, play with my fingers, adapt my body language, coaxing him to reach down and stretch, but, of course, this isn’t as efficient as physically closing him. Another drawback (is it a drawback?) is that, without draw reins or side reins, I can’t “force” Qrac to stay flexed to the inside, and he does tend to bend to the outside on the right lead canter, at least for the first few minutes. However, now that he’s become stronger, after a few rounds I coax him into a smaller circle, whereupon he needs to stay in the correct flexion in order to remain balanced. He seems quite comfortable performing a couple of rounds of slow canter around me, really coming under with the hind leg, so I guess I must be doing something right.

Nevertheless, that little niggly voice inside my head still constantly harangues me, going on about that virtually unused cob-sized surcingle hanging on my peg. Would Qrac be better off being lunged in a more contained frame? Would it be more efficient? Or does lungeing with draw reins/side-reins/etc just make them work harder? I don’t think I’m wasting my time lunging him “au naturel”, but then again, maybe I am. Maybe I’m just “moving” him, as opposed to working him. What do you think? How do you lunge your horse?

Some Kind of Wonderful

I knew I liked him a lot the minute I saw him. Was it love at first sight? Now that I think about it, it was probably more akin to lust. After all, he was a big beautiful black Lusitano stallion. With his thick, long black mane, his smoky dark almond shaped eyes, his cute rounded bottom and very long legs, he was very much the heartthrob.

But heartthrobs tend to be a little intimidating. The low, husky fire-breathing and occasional prancy mannerisms he displayed when I first brought him home made me wonder whether he might be a little too much horse for me. Transitioning from my trustworthy Dutch schoolmaster, Kwintus, was a challenge in itself, and to find myself in unfamiliar surroundings (I switched stables for a couple of weeks to make use of their indoor) with a rather green, very forward-going, seven-year-old Iberian stallion was a bit daunting.


As is often the case, it turns out I should have had a little more faith in myself and not worried so much. The “tumbleweeding” (running) I described in one of my earlier blogs (“Semi-Floppy”) is now almost completely resolved. The rhythm of the trot is getting better, more regular. The canter has metamorphosed in the past ten days. Initially I barely dared go into canter because it felt unbalanced and wonky and all over the place, so I only braved it in the small enclosed arena behind the stable block. And even when I did I tended to favor the left lead canter as the right lead felt particularly bizarre, with Qrac refusing to bend to the right, and instead leaning onto his inside shoulder and constantly changing to the left lead). Gradually however I got braver, he and I became more connected, more trusting of each other and things started to come together. We practiced. We practiced again. I tried cantering him on the gallop loop around the field; the left lead went fine, while yet again the right lead was pretty hairy, particularly when he decided to switch to the left lead and see how fast he could go (pretty fast!)! But he didn’t argue too much with me when I asked him to slow. He’s a good boy.

Next, I started taking him down to the big wide open arena. I worked hard, thinking things over, experimenting, and when my trainer, Marie-Valentine, came to give me a lesson I paid particular attention to all the little details she’s been telling me for years: keep my left hand more upright, sit tall, tall, taller, keep my chin up, keep my ultra-suppleness in check, watch that my lower leg doesn’t slide backwards (Qrac is so short-backed that if my leg slides out of place it’s practically behind him!). I worked extra hard, trying to think about all the little things that are so hard to think about when you’re already doing a trillion other things with every part of your body.

And one day, lo and behold, when I asked him to canter on the right lead, he curled
himself around my inside leg and struck off beautifully. We’ve capitalized on that moment, and although it still doesn’t feel as easy as the left lead, he’s definitely improving. We’re improving. And it’s so rewarding!I'm no longer only in lust, I'm in love!

My confidence and trust in him have improved so much that I regularly take him out on the trails around the property. We go alone, trotting and cantering through the fields with no problems whatsoever. The only thing that makes him antsy and mega fidgety is insects. Qrac HATES insects. He’s virtually impossible to keep calm and steady on days when the insects are bad, and, unfortunately, we’ve had a lot of hot, humid weather recently. He stomps around all bad-tempered, lifting his hind legs so high he regularly kicks my feet in the stirrups. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve spent a small fortune on an array of insect-repellents, all of which promise instant insectual eradication, but nothing seems to dissuade the horse-flies
and the mini-flies and the horrid giant buzzy things that swarm around us, taunting him into a mad, frantic high-stepping piaffy thing. I shoo them off, try to coerce him into ignoring them, but it’s beyond him. So I push him into trot, urging him into his work routine to keep his mind busy as best I can, keeping our sessions short but intense. Incidentally, Qrac is a seriously sweaty guy who easily gets foamy bum syndrome! So sweaty is he that I need to wash my saddle blankets (? In French it’s called a “chabraque” – the thing we put under the saddle) after every session! Maybe it’s a macho thing.

Speaking of macho things, Qrac is no longer quite so macho. Well, he is, for the time being, but he had his first “anti-macho” shot ten days ago, and will have the other one in about three weeks. It’s a chemical castration and is completely reversible. It works (if I’ve understood correctly) by inhibiting the production of testosterone, the effects of which last (again, if I remember correctly) about a year. He should start feeling less, well, horny, within two weeks of having had the first shot. So far I haven’t seen any dramatic changes, with my horse still under the impression he’s bringing sexy back to his little French village. Secondary reactions to the shot? He was tired the following day, and, as the vet had predicted, ran a slight fever 48 hours later. I stood him in cold water for twenty minutes and gave him some aspirin.

Seventy-hours later he was fine again and raring to go. Steph, who owns my stables, saddled up one of her horses, I got Qrac ready and we set off for our first proper trail ride up the mountain. He was perfectly behaved, apart from a short and stroppy show of manliness when we passed a field full of stout blonde beauties (semi-heavy Comptois horses, used mainly for driving). I got him past them by raising my voice, closing my legs and acting braver than I felt. How I hate that fizzy adrenaline feeling!

Why did I choose a chemical castration as opposed to the full chop-chop? Because it’s summer, because the flies are horrendous, making the healing process less straightforward. Also, this way I’ll be able to gage how losing his manhood might affect his character and the oomph in his work. As for how long it will be before he is capable of walking by the field full of stout blondes without getting all worked up, I have no idea, but just going on that ride will be a good judge of his sex-drive. I don’t plan on renewing the chemical castration (my vet says it can be done up to five times, but doesn’t recommend it beyond two or three), but will instead have him gelded once the flies are gone, probably sometime in November or December. Some people tell me it’s a pity to geld such a beautiful stallion, especially since he’s approved by the Lusitano stud book, but I’ve decided it’s the right thing to do. As cuddly and adorable as he is (he loves to have his cheeks scratched, so much that he closes his eyes and leans his nose in my free hand!), he’ll probably be easier to handle in sticky situations.

My daughter rode him the other day for the first time since she came back from
University. As you can see, he looked amazing (well, I think so), but was a bit of handful since it was noon and the flies were ridiculous, turning him into a total drama queen. Does anyone know of a highly effective fly repellent? I’m going to try adding garlic granules to add to his feed. Although they didn’t seem to make a scrap of difference to Kwintus, their effect apparently varies from one horse to another. What about cider vinegar in their feed? Has anyone tried it? I bought some, but Steph is reluctant to use it as she’s worried it’s too acidic.

Please tell me your anti-insect secrets; Qrac and I are under siege!

A Strut Through the Forest

Qrac and I went for our first outside ride together yesterday. I say together because he’s already been on a few outside rides with one of the stable’s grooms, who reported him to be no trouble whatsoever.

“He’s very well behaved,” she told me when I enquired after her first foray with Mr. Caliente into the great wide open. “He calls a bit, but most stallions do. But he’s not scared of anything. He’s just very, err, very active.”

Uh oh, I thought. “Very active? Very active how?”

She smiled. “Let’s say he’s not interested in looking at the flowers, or taking in the view. He’s a bit of a Speedy Gonzalez.”

Not wanting to ask too many questions and get myself into a tiz-waz over my new horse’s increasingly evident desire to go forward, I left it at that. In the two and a half weeks I’ve had him, it’s pretty clear that Qrac is no plodder, and I’ve a feeling I’ll be doing transitions until the cows come home. Not that I’m complaining; I already love him to bits and have never felt as though he’s going to pull a nasty on me. He’s laid back, but with a big engine. And lots of stamina. He feels as though he could go on for hours. His forwardness doesn’t change between the beginning of a session and the end. It’s impressive.

Anyway, since I don’t really know anyone at my temporary stable, and that my reckless days are long over, I asked the groom to take him out a couple more of times. She went out once with another gelding, then with a gelding and a mare, then all alone, and each time Qrac was very well behaved. “He’s just very active,” she said nonchalantly. “He doesn’t drag his feet.”

Finally, I decided it was high time Qrac and I went for an outside ride, so I asked her whether she’d come along with us. She was happy to do so, and yesterday morning, made sure she saddled up a very chilled gelding. I climbed up onto Qrac, and off we went. Err, actually, off we pranced!

And would you believe the train came by as soon as I got on? It’s only a little train, but it’s right there, uber close, and it chose that very moment to choo-choo by. And then two teenagers on souped-up mopeds started zooming backwards and forwards, skidding around in the dirt. Yes, on my first time out with my horse. Typical. But Qrac wasn’t prancing because of the train (which didn’t seem to perturb him at all), nor was he freaked out by the souped-up mopeds. He was prancing because he wanted to go off into the forest with his buddy. So we pranced a little, and everyone watching the jumping lesson in the outside arena turned to look at my beautiful black stallion making a bit of a spectacle of himself, which was a little embarrassing. Then we pranced-sashay-clattered across the railway tracks, and once we got to the other side he immediately settled into his cruising speed, which I’d describe as a strutting power walk. Yep, this guy means business. He was on the bit, he wasn’t spooky, and I felt perfectly fine, but his energy level came as quite a surprise, especially after years of relaxed ambling along country trails with Kwintus.

Forty-five minutes later, we strutted back across the railway tracks, thankfully without too much show-offy prancing this time. However, Qrac couldn’t resist announcing his return with a loud whinny. Over by the jumping arena, a gathering of little girls from the pony club stopped eating their ice-creams and gasped with admiration. “Look, it’s Qrac!” they gushed. “Il est tellement beau! (he’s soooo beautiful!)

Qrac tossed his long black mane, Pantene-style. My new boy is hot, and he knows it.

Introducing Qrac de la Font

It's all been a blur. A whirly, sparkly blur! It's been kind of tiring, too. Who knew acquiring a new horse would be so time-consuming? And I’m not just talking time spent with my new horse, but also running around, picking up things that Qrac desperately needs, because although I thought I had enough horsey equipment to cater to an entire polo team, it turned out that I didn’t have a second light cotton blanket, and that Kwint’s girth was too long, and that Qrac could do with over-reach boots, and the lunging-girth-thingy I’d bought (it’s called a surfaix in French; what’s the English terminology?) was way too big, and the draw reins (for lunging, not riding) were not the ones my trainer had in mind, and I was out of saddle soap, etc., etc. Naturally, all these realizations came one after the other on completely separate days, not simultaneously, and, since not all tack shops are created equal, necessitated trips to tack shops spread over two cantons.

Then there have been the niggling anxieties that come with getting to know a new horse. Does my saddle really fit him properly? Qrac is spectacularly short-backed, and very uphill, and my saddle seemed to be constantly slipping backwards because the original girth I was using was a little too long. Worse still, I was cantering around the arena the other day when it suddenly slipped sideways, which was a horrible sensation since I barely knew him and didn’t know how he’d react! Panic stricken, I coaxed him to a somewhat ungainly halt, dismounted and put everything back in place. Qrac didn’t seem overly perturbed. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be overly perturbed by very much, which is reassuring.

Nevertheless, I’ve yet to venture into the big wide open, limiting to my riding to the large indoor arena, although one of the girls who works at the stable took him out for a hack last week and said he was no problem at all. I’m hoping to meet someone to go out hacking with me as, for the time being, I’m too chicken to go alone. My trainer has been amazing, practically holding my hand for the first couple of days, making sure Qrac was comfortable, that I was comfortable, that we were all comfortable together. Transitioning from a horse as gentle, knowledgeable and laid back as Kwintus is a little intimidating. Although Qrac is laid back and very gentle (he loves being cuddled and fussed over), he’s still a stallion, and when we unloaded him from my trailer on arrival from the south of France he was very full of himself, very “ladies and gentlemen, here I am”, swaggering down the central aisle of the stable block like Ricky Martin entering the stage at the beginning of a concert. He was pretty vocal, too!


Yet by the following morning he had settled down nicely, and proved to be wonderfully obedient on the lunge, listening carefully to voice commands and doing exactly what I asked. I rode him for the first time on Monday, two days after he’d arrived, and enjoyed a lesson with my trainer. Again, Qrac showed no signs of bad behavior. Unfortunately, his teeth seemed to be bothering him, so Marie-Valentine
called the “super dentist” and managed to arrange for him to come last Thursday, which was super lucky as this guy is booked up months in advance. It turned out that poor Qrac hadn’t seen a dentist since he was two, and needed extensive work, which put him out of riding action for four days. His face was really sore and swollen, and he couldn’t wear his bridle, so I just lunged him in his halter, which was fine.

By Monday morning he’d made a full recovery, so I had my second lesson with my trainer. It was great! He’s an interesting horse to ride, ever so different from anything I’ve ever ridden before. He’s quick and nimble and very eager to please, yet tends to rush a little, so I’m forever half-halting, trying to bring him back into balance. The left lead canter is pretty good, but the right lead canter is seriously hard work because, apparently, according to the man who stabled him in the south of France, Lusitano/Spanish riders only work the bend on the side where the mane falls! Qrac’s mane falls on the left, hence his preference for bending to the left. I’d never of this concept before (only working a horse on his “natural bend” side), and neither had my trainer. Have you?

So that’s my Qrac news. By the way, someone asked me how you pronounced Qrac, suggesting it might sound nicer in Spanish than it does in English. Well, Qrac (whose full name is pretty posh: Qrac de la Font) is a Lusitano (Portuguese breed), yet he was born and bred in France at the Massa stud farm (which looks like an AMAZING place; I’ll have to go and visit one day). In fact, Qrac’s uncle (or is half-brother? Anyway, some close relation) Gallopin de la Font, is the only Lusitano to have qualified for the Olympics (the link is to his performance in Beijing in 2008). So Qrac’s name is pronounced with a French accent, quite similarly to how we English mother-tongue people would pronounce “crack”, yet with a subtle but very important difference. The “r” is more guttural, and the “a” is more…high-pitched, making his name come across as lighter than the way it does in English! It also rolls off the tongue more quickly, if that makes sense, and generally somehow sounds nicer in French. Also, the word “crack” in French horsey lingo means “champion”, and the only difference in Qrac’s case being that his breeders spelt it slightly more funkily to fit in with the year of the Qs.

Here is a little video I found of Qrac on the internet, filmed at a horse salon in Lyon (or maybe Paris?) when he was five years old, and beautifully ridden by one of the Massa breeder’s trainers, who seems to have no problem whatsoever with the right lead canter! Grrr! I’ve scheduled another lesson with my trainer for tomorrow morning, and am hoping to get him moving just as nicely for me at some point.

Have a great weekend!

Southbound!

It happened at the end of January. I was sitting at my computer, once again trawling the “Horses for Sale” section of Horse and Hound online for potentially interesting Warmbloods, when, suddenly, up popped a dappled grey Andalusian stabled somewhere in England. He was about the right age, about the right price, and sounded as though he was schooled to a pretty good level of dressage. I’ve always been attracted to Iberian horses, but had only ever ridden lackadaisical riding school horses on trail rides while holidaying in Ibiza. I knew they tend to be comfortable, good natured, and possess a natural ability to collect.

Other than that, I knew nada, apart from the fact that Swiss dressage judges tend not to like them, mostly because they are often a little limited in the trot department. But I wasn’t too bothered about the Swiss dressage judges. If I go to one or two shows per year it’s more than enough for me.

Also, I’d seen loads of videos of Warmbloods, and it was becoming more and more obvious that anything I really really liked was way out of my budget.

Might I be better off going south and looking at Spanish horses?

So I fired off an email, enquiring about the Andalusian advertised in “Horse and Hound”. Soon afterwards, my trainer, Marie-Valentine, called to discuss the trials and tribulations of our ongoing search for my perfect horse. “What about an Andalusian?” I said, unsure of how she’d react.

I could almost hear her brain processing the idea down the phone line. Then she said, “You know, that might be a good idea! You’ve always liked them, and although you don’t like to compete, you enjoy doing the fun stuff (she meant flying changes, piaffe, passage, etc), and they’re really good at that. Yes, I can picture you on an Andalusian! And, hey, how fun would it be to go south to Spain instead of north to Gemany?!”

At that point, our conversation soon became rather squealy and schoolgirlish, both of us geting thoroughly carried away, picturing ourselves down in sunny Malaga, spending our mornings trying fabulous horses, before pottering down to the spend the afternoons at the beach.

There was, however, one small problem. How the heck were we going to find those fabulous Spanish horses? Apart from an American friend living in Aachen who specializes in Spanish horses, my trainer didn’t know who to contact. And when I received a video of the “Horse and Hound” Andalusian I’d found on the internet, it didn’t have the level of movement I was looking for.

Determined to find something suitable, I Googled Spanish horses until I turned, well, google-eyed. I watched dozens of online videos. Nothing. Well, nothing for me. I contacted a dealer in Madrid, who sent me private videos. Too young. Too Baroc. Too little trot. No extension. Too little walk. Or drop-dead-knockout, but way too expensive! Marie-Valentine’s contact in Germany had contacted a contact in Malaga, but that contact had yet to contact us.

Argh! I was frustrated. I wanted to go and look at horses!

And then, one afternoon, Marie-Valentine rang me. She’d spoken to another dressage trainer and asked whether he had reliable contacts for good Spanish horses. He’d told her he’d put out some feelers, that he knew a few people, and would get back to her. Within twenty-four hours he rang to tell her there was a really nice Lusitano waiting for us to go take a look at him near Avignon, in the south of France. He was seven years old, a stallion, with a good level of training. There were no videos, no photos available. But he knew from reliable sources that this horse was a good one.

So a week later, not utterly convinced it was worth making the trip, yet impatient to start horse shopping, we hopped into my car and embarked on a four-hour drive south. Marie-Valentine had never taken a client to see a horse without viewing it on video. Also, she’s never ridden an Iberian horse in her life. Yet here there we were, on our way to a blind date with a Lusitano stallion!

“What if he’s awful?” I blurted, my stomach churning with nerves as we our destination grew closer.

Marie-Valentine shrugged. “If he’s awful, we’ll say thank you very much and we’ll leave. I’ll make a few phone calls, and we’ll go find some other horses to look at. A friend of mine mentioned a place not too far away. I mean, what else can we do?”

We reached the outskirts of Avignon, left the highway and followed my GPS’ instructions along country roads through pretty Provencal villages. We turned left at an old monastery and soon found ourselves deep in the countryside.

“Why do we live where we live?” exclaimed Marie-Valentine as we drooled over the silver grey olive trees, the green oaks, and blossoming fruit trees. Here, 400 or so kilometers south of a still frost-bitten Geneva, spring was already in the air. We rolled down the windows and took giant breaths of the pungent, herb-scented, Provencal air. How I wish I could import it!

Once we reached the stables, we were greeted by a smiling, blue-eyed man escorted by a couple of hyperactive Jack Russell terriers.

“Are you ready?” said Marie-Valentine, winking at me.

“I hope he’s pretty,” I replied, trembling, nervous as heck as I flopped out of the car.

“Bonjour mesdames, vous avez fait bon voyage?” asked the man in his lovely sing-song Provencal accent (okay, so I love everything about the Mediterranean!).

We replied that, yes, we’d have a nice trip, enthusing over how great it was to be in this beautiful part of the world. My knees shook as we followed him down a little dirt track and around the corner to the stables where a row of aloof Lusitano stallions gave us the once over.

Right at the back, in the last loose box, a young woman was plaiting a big, beautiful, dark bay horse.

As we drew closer, Marie-Valentine nudged me in the ribs. “Il est magnifique,” she whispered, wide-eyed.

We observed the horse as they saddled him up and bandaged his legs. He stood quietly, placidly. He had soft, warm, translucent eyes edged by endless lashes. He had a thick, black, wavy tail. Judging from his double row of plaits, he obviously had a very thick mane, too! He was beautifully proportioned, chunky yet not too chunky, with a short back, a nice bottom, a strong neck, and lovely clean legs.

Could we have got lucky the first time out, I wondered, grabbing my helmet and struggling into my riding boots? Chill, Cesca, I told myself. Sure, he was beautiful, but what was his movement like?

My trainer and I held our breath as the young woman led this stunning dark bay stallion out into the yard and up the hill towards a large, circular arena. He stood quietly as she mounted and moved off into a lovely walk. So far so good. She pushed him into trot. Not bad! He filled his tracks nicely, which from what I’d seen on the internet, is hard to find in Iberian horses. A few minutes later, she asked him to canter and he obliged, showing a lovely smooth, uphill movement. The lateral work was good, the flying changes a little insecure, but the basic work was well established, with no sign of unwillingness or bad behavior. And gosh, the guy was seriously flashy!

To be perfectly honest, I was pretty intimidated. I’ve only ridden Kwintus in the past few years, haven’t really ridden at all since last summer, and to suddenly climb onto a much bigger, far greener, seven-year-old Lusitano stallion was a little scary. But I bunged on my helmet, took a deep breath and mounted.

Wow! What a totally different feeling! He was far less stable than Kwint, and I had a hard time keeping him straight, or even moving in a straight line (the circular arena didn't help). He moved sideways at the slightest shift of my weight in the saddle and at the tiniest backward movement of my legs (and boy, did my legs want to slide backwards! I couldn’t seem to keep them long at all! Why?!). His trot felt impressively forward and easy to sit, and his canter was a dream. All in all, I had a really good sensation.

When I rode him the next day, he felt even better. I was no longer quite as intimidated, and any residual nerves soon evaporated as this lovely horse did his best to understand what I was asking. You should have seen the smile on my face when I dismounted!

Will he be coming back to live next to Kwintus? I hope so. The vet check is scheduled for March 8th, so I’m counting the days, my fingers crossed he’ll flex fine, that nothing dodgy will show up on the x-rays. Meanwhile, I’m drooling over his photographs, and soothing my sore muscles in plenty of hot water.