Still missing our great leader, Gez, and no Daisy or Star either this time we had two new team members step up last minute. Greg Baker from Llandeilo, on Polly, a seven year old grey mare, and Amber Jackson-Fennell, from Solihull, on a grey mare just out of racing and only second time team chasing. I would’ve been happy to take the lead but quickly deferred to Amber who had already been round on another horse and so was sure of the way. Amber, it turns out, excels at dressage but doesn’t find it thrilling enough and is keen to become a point to point rider. Amber doesn’t look like she would be too happy following anybody and so our fate was sealed. So, milling around in the warm up area, I see my new team chasing friend Scott again. So, howsitgoin? I ask. Ah all’s good thanks, lovely horse you got there, very pretty. Yes, he used to be a show horse. Oh really says Scott, I like to do a bit of showing. Shaddup… what? Really? Yeh, I do better at showing than I do at this he laughs. I’m sure he’s having me on but goes on to qualify this with saying something about about judges all being women and and him looking the bis … hmmmm… I thought, he might not be kidding after all. Coming back to team chasing I just mention airily that Olympic Champion Harry Meade is competing today…. yeh, says Scott, he’s in my team and clocking my surprise and by way of explanation he says yeh, I shoe eventers… then adds, we should ride out together sometime. Indeed, I reply. Feeling really thirsty and a tongue like Ghandis flip flop I trot over to Jemma, Greg’s wife, who has my bottle of water which contains enough for just one swig. How come my nose is running but mouth is parched and how is it that however much you drink at times like this the tongue always sticks to the roof of the mouth? Having gone round and round now I’m getting cold and jittery. For something to do I decide, with the help of Jemma, to stick the go pro on.

Delay to the start gives me time to reflect. This time last year I was warming up for my first ever team chase and having not walked the course was in a fairly happy state of ignorance. This time, however, Russell and I had walked the course together and had decided to pike out over jumping the massive hedge at 14 and opt for the slightly less deathly alternative. We’d jumped the massive hedge last year and we should really stick by living up to our name (Massiv) but from the ground it looked uphill and well… massive. We didn’t consider the alternative last year because we didn’t know there was one- doh!

It’s a great course at Foxcourt with a good variety of obstacles including hedges, stone walls, drop downs, step ups, huge ditches, trakehners and no freakin flower boxes… this seasons bete noir for Frank! I’d been quite stressed the day before due to a rather unpleasant interaction with an asshole who seems determined to make my life a misery so I hadn’t been able to eat much. My team mate and I stopped over in Monmouth the night before, at my friends event yard, so once the horses were sorted we ventured out in search of a quiet pub and a bar meal planning on an early night. We found The Lion in Trelleck heaving with Halloween party goers and pumpkins and a band called the Ronaldo’s – Cuban skiffle ska rock. Well, what an awesome night… two pints of Buttly, pie and chips, great atmosphere and the best band I have heard in a long time

Very often, and I would go as far as to say, almost without exception, some of the best nights out are completely unplanned. This ranked up there with one of my all time top nights out.

Up well before crack of sparra, no breakfast or even tea as we had to muck out, load and hit the road. We had lovely coffee, however, as soon as we arrived at Foxcourt and set off to walk the course. Felt a bit too nervous to eat and stress from the day before seemed to triple the tension. I tried to push it from my mind, determined to focus on here and now.

At last, we were asked to go down to the start and after couple of nervous circuits we were off. Amber shot off like an arrow and Frank followed and went from 0 to flat out in about 2 seconds. I have no idea what the first two fences even looked like although I think the third was a wall. Sharp curve left to the fourth a drop wall and Frank is going even faster. Downhill curve to the right, fence five is another wall, and Frank is flying. In between five, and six a hedge, Fox comes upsides only he’s on his own. As we career down to six Fox starts to cut across me but actually jumps it with us

Looks like Russell is taking the Halloween theme a bit too far with his headless horseman stunt. It all gets a bit messy then as Fox gallops straight ahead to the perimeter fence and Frank tries to follow. By now, Greg has caught up and there’s a WTF has happened to Russell moment before I steer Frank round to fence seven, screaming go ooooooon Frank! Amber has pulled up and is waiting for us. I pop over fence 8 a&b in the lead (tiger trap & wall)

and we sweep up a long uphill stretch to three big fences in the woods. Amber has taken the lead again now and Greg tucked in close behind, fences 9 (rails) 10 (walls) 11(rails) then onto 12 a massive drop hedge 13 more rails then sharp left and a slight uphill to fence 14 massive hedge with Amber completely ignoring the alternative smaller fence. Oh god, I thought, I’ve got the line all wrong again and I’m in the fcuking trees being whipped by branches which do their best to scrape me off Frank’s back. It’s around here that the go pro goes down and is now angled on my face and hands and all that can be heard is me uttering Jesus Christ on repeat. There’s a stone step up next then a steep palisade onto a huge pheasant feeder out of the woods and another step up (18) a drop (19) another hedge and next over the

huge tractor tyres and another freakin hedge into the chute (23a) and by some mackerel we manage to get 12 legs in the pen as Amber, once again, has waited for the two stragglers. Downhill now over a palisade (23b) and rails to the water drop a deep wide ditch. Look up, look up, don’t look down, kick on, Frank doesn’t even notice the ditch. At this stage, I think Frank would have cleared the Grand Canyon. Next up is a wise trakehner , which is much higher on the right than on the left with the ground really dropping away to the right into a deep gully. Fighting with Frank now and trying to shorten the steering strings he takes full advantage and lunges forward full pelt towards the high end… seeing the huge drop to the side into water he jumps even higher and as we land I lose both stirrups and he’s off again in pursuit of grey Polly and Greg. Somehow, I manage to get both feet back in the stirrups and turn for last ditch… Greg is hanging fire as I think he thought there might be another faller but no and it’s off we go over the final three fences which I think are rails, hedge and ditch and the final chase fence to finish (30)

So, the final team chase of 2018 is over and having cheated death I feel more alive than ever and the sense of elation is hard to describe. The high lasts for weeks and the confidence it gives you and your horse is as permanent as death. So, when people ask me what I did for Halloween I just shrug and smile and say I scared myself to death 😱👻☠️🎃✋👊

Well, this is our last BE of the season. As my start time for dressage was 15.48 I decided to travel down on the day. I slept in my lorry on the yard the night before and was buffeted by storm Callum. It felt like being at sea. Can’t say it kept me awake. I was asleep by 9pm and wide awake at 5am. Frank had an early breakfast, I mucked out two horses then had my breakfast of fruit, yoghurt, nice coffee and two ginger biscuits. Did a tack and boot check, sorted out my stuff, filled hay nets. After all the rain the lorry wheels had sunk and I had trouble getting out of my parking space. After loading Frank I had trouble closing the ramp as the wind was so strong and it blew one of the inner doors off its hinges. I manoeuvred the lorry to another spot and with the aid of some steps I managed to close the ramp without giving myself a hernia or a stroke. After all that messing about it was 8.30am. So much for an early start and I felt like I had done a days work already. Poor internet connection at the yard made it impossible to check if the event was still on- even climbing up to the top of the bales in the barn failed to get a signal. I couldn’t get hold of Google maps either. I’d already worked out the best route using a road atlas and so I set off despite storm Callum. Further confusion was added to my day as I am changing over from using a Samsung to an iPhone. A good trigger for early onset senile dementia if ever there was one. The journey took 4 hours, by the time we reached Cardiff the storm had abated and by the time we got to the M5 the sun was out and I was boiling in the bag. My old lorry has no heating controls and basically you are sat on the engine being cooked. Found the venue easily and just managed to park up without getting stuck in the mud although it was a close call. Jump out the lorry get the ramp down and find Frank bathed in sweat. Quick sponge down then off to get numbers and walk the XC course. Given my sat nav errors at Pontispool I catch up with another course walker and ask if she doesn’t mind if I walk the course with her. ‘Well, OK’ she replied ‘but don’t talk to me’ Got it, I replied. After fence 4, she asked to look at my map. Fence 7 ab was the only cause for concern. It was downhill, with a slight dog leg turn from a to b and a short distance between the two elements. I would need brakes and Frank would need to be listening. After team chasing the week before the fences looked ridiculously small but some of these were ridiculously close together.

On my way back to the lorry I stopped to check the showjumping course. Here, my ‘silence please’ course walk partner came up to me and apologised for being rude. I told her not to worry at all, I understood perfectly-recalling my bad behaviour at Pontispool (see earlier post). Back to the lorry, kettle on, water horse, plait up, tack up, stud up. Pour bucket of water over head as I am soooo hot. Drink coffee, check dressage test. Suddenly remember fence 7a & b…. and change Franks XC bit from Cheltenham gag with French link to American bad boy motherfucker single joint because I know I will not be able to control him down that combination. Frank is shaking a bit now. Give him some carrots which he eats so figure he must be okay. Get on 45 mins before dressage test to warm up. Still blowing a gale but I’m still feeling cooked. I allow Frank to let off a bit of steam. Straightaway I know what I’m dealing with here as he clearly has his team chasing head on. He’s strong in the dressage warm up but obedient. Is ok in trot but overbent in canter and pulling. We have a bit of a fight and I get him to do lots of transitions and he comes back to me. He is equally balanced on both reins. I’m last to go but definitely not least but for all the wrong reasons … Frank is like a wild beast in there and I am just a passenger. Wrong canter lead, try to correct, wrong again. Replay the movement and finally correct lead. I know we haven’t done well, guessing a 40.

Back to the lorry for quick tack change and into SJ warm up. The storm is cranking up and so is Frank. I know that if I don’t gain some control here he will cart me round and knock everything down. So I have strong words with him. Warm up fences are now blowing down and in we go. Last on the list for the afternoon. He is strong but somehow I’m stronger -we have time faults for going too fast but we go clear. Half an hour to get changed for XC and I’m a bit worried about the route between fences 4a/b and 5 &6 but no time to check. I’m last to go XC and really looking forward to this bit and have no fear. Team chasing has given us both a lot of confidence I’m just a little worried about the downhill fence 7 combo. Frank is broncing in the XC warmup and soon we are in the start box with a minute and a half spent small talking with the starter- ‘what colour is he’.. ‘he’s bay roan, every single shade of mud…yes a self-cleaning horse ha ha! Used to be a show horse… blah blah… now he’s a team chaser’… starter looks impressed… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO! Frank leaps out of the start box. I’m aiming for the first fence a tiny 80/90 combined little house and Frank runs out🙈🙈🙈 oh the shame. I’m so annoyed I crack his ass at the second attempt and we absolutely fly round the remainder of the course. The only sketchy bit is fence 7 where I pull him up so much for the first element that he has to climb over it one lanky leg at a time. The whole course was easy peasy. Just a couple of moments where I had to check we were going the right way. By fence 8 we’re cooking with gas and going so fast my hat silk flew off and a hero on a quad bike followed me back to the lorry to return it to me. So, that’s us done for 2018 event season. Frank stopped at the first fence at our first event at Mount Ballan and this seems to have set a pattern for the season. He cleared the first at Pontispool but jumped the 100cm by mistake. Hmmmm… I have some theories about this which I will discuss in a later post. Its been a funny kind of event season not helped by Frank becoming lame through poor shoeing at the start and then returning to ground like concrete. Two more team chases. Hereford (Sapey) next week and Cotswold (Foxcourt) on Oct 28. Holiday then for Frank 😀

For Berkeley team chase we had a slightly different line up as our regular and trusted leader, Gisella, had actually found something better to do than team chase that weekend can you believe🙄 As my preferred position was bringing up the rear, I certainly wasn’t keen to take on the much coveted role of leader… far too much responsibility. Russell wasn’t keen on leading either as he was worried about tiger traps. Daisy, who is a brilliant rider on a really brave little mare had lost her nerve a bit and didn’t think Star would cope with the big hedges and Tim, Ges’s replacement, was, in our team captain’s own words ‘a bit wild but a good craic’. First time I met him was at Worcester team chase, he was covered in mud after a fall … today he provided the port but was a bit non committal on the leadership front. Basically, after having walked the course we were all secretly bricking it… but at least we had port.

Having stayed in Monmouth the night before I managed, for the first time ever, to walk the course 🙄 To be honest, unless you have to lead, I can see distinct advantages in not walking the course…I can’t say it helped much and only seemed to wrack my nerves. From the ground the hedges looked MASSIVE, immovable and impossible to see over the other side. I’m guessing they were about 1 metre 40 and really wide, dense and full of black berries, sloes and thorns.

In the warm-up area in the absence of anyone stepping up to position of leader, Russell and I tried to put together a rough plan for the whole course. We agreed that I would lead over the first fence… if I got there first… and we would jump the second fence, a sizeable hedge together. But we hardly stuck to one stick of this. Suddenly, we we being ushered in. Dais suddenly realises there are no martingale stoppers on her reins…we could swap reins as I have two sets but then it’s too late…someones telling us to go and in an instant we’re off. This is it, Frank. Please don’t let me down. Frank led over the first – and within seconds fence 2 looms into view. ‘Go on’ Frank I shout ‘go on’ but Frank is going anyway and pulls me into it. He sees the take off point, I shut my eyes and we’re airborne. Downhill then to the third, taking a pull on the steering strings and applying the brakes for the standalone palisade (fence 3). A curve to the left for the 4th, the second massive hedge, onto the road crossing. Having been spurred on for these first few fences Frank is now galloping flat out. Quick flash back to last year when we competed here in the pairs in a snaffle 🙄 Thinking it was a good call to have chosen the American gag over the Cheltenham as I was already having a bit of brake failure.

I’m aware of Daisy now who is upsides on the wide open stretch to fence five, I have time to shorten the steering strings a bit but still going a bit too fast to look around to check on Russ and Tim. Although this is a team thing I’m afraid its everyman for himself most of the way round as survival is the real name of this game. By now Frank has come back to me and pops nicely over 5, which took us from one field to the next. Star is pulling now and Dais takes the lead in the approach to fence 6 – telegraph poles at the bottom of tricky hollow. Fence 7 was the third humongous hedge. Franks tucked in behind little Star. Aware of Daisy’s fears I prayed they wouldn’t stop as Frank is right up Stars ass and hasn’t seen the fence. Well, what a gutsy mare and what a pair of stars these two are, as with huge effort Star lept over it and sped off up the hill to fence 9 – massive straw bales. Russ and Tim have caught up now and being a bit late to the party show total disregard for course marker flags and cut me up to take up second and third places behind Dais. I’ve committed this sin myself, at Worcester, so i can understand how easily it is done 😏 Russell, it seems, has had problems with the second hedge and fence 5 but is able to rejoin the team in the run up to the straw bales.

All of us managed to get over Fence 10 and 11 but Fox was foxed by the big hedge at 12 and Dais had tiger trap trouble at 13. I could see what was happening ahead and took evasive action which tested Frank’s agility. This kind of situation requires instant reactions and its not something you can plan or prepare for. Frank galloped then down to the island chaser hedge at 14. Onto fence 15, the 6th hedge, which has a bit of a ditch and Im sure it was bigger and wider than all the rest. Trying to catch my breath now and feeling quite alone out there, Frank must sense this and he falters too. Clocking the ditch, he doesn’t quite get airborne enough to get over the hedge but jumps into it and somehow gets one of his lanky legs caught over the telegraph poles. Frank’s not the only one to fall foul of fence 15. The team below demonstrate quite clearly what happens when you look into the ditch 🙄😣

Anyway, Frank manages to pull himself out of the hedge and we try again. With all our effort combined we clear it and by now Tim is back. ‘What shall we do? he asks wheeling round ‘the others have pulled up… i think we’ve lost them’. Knowing that there are more hedges ahead… bigger maybe even wider and one with a big drop. Oh well, I thought, ‘we may as well just carry on’ I said and so we did. The hedge at 16 was followed by a sharp hairpin turn over hedge 17 back into the field we had just left…oh, here comes another one, i thought and as we approach the ninth hedge (18) Tim screamed ‘you gotta kick on for this one…..there’s a big drop after’. Check out my face 🙄 Frank on the otherhand is looking cool as a freakin fairground horse on a carousel with camera face on and ears pricked.

Over a big tiger trap at 19 Tim and I then turned sharp left and managed to get eight legs in the pen (between fences 20 & 21) which i think given the circumstances was pretty damn cool. We then raced over 22 and 23 into and out of a copse and straightened up for the homeward stretch. A neck and neck race to the final and 10th hedge and on to the uphill stretch to the finish. As Frank flies past the finish his bridle is in bits and my hat silk flies off. Well that was a bit woo flipping hoo. Phew.

Daisy and the little Star. Fence 11

I travelled to Somerset on the Friday before competing on Saturday and Frank had stabling booked on West Sedgemoor. As usual, the M5 was congested from Severn bridge to Taunton and as afternoon turned into evening I scrapped plans to walk the course in favour of going straight to Sedgemoor for a much needed cup of tea. The whole point of travelling down the day before was so that I could walk the course the night beforehand – then spend a sleepless night worrying about it. Frank had been bathed before leaving Swansea, stud holes prepared and mane pulled. Mane and tail were plaited just as it was beginning to get dark – one less thing to have to worry about in the morning. After a lovely dinner, cooked by my good friend, Gerald, it was time for an early night ready for the day ahead and alarm set for 5.30am.

As Frank was having breakfast I mucked out and it wasn’t long before we were on the road for the 40 min journey to Pontispool, Norton Fitzwarren, just west of Taunton. On arrival, at about 7.30am, I went to collect my numbers then set off to walk SJ and XC courses. I noted that the first XC fence, as is often the case, was a flower box. Now Frank has had issues with these at earlier events this season. He stopped at Mount Ballan, Calmsden and Dauntsey flower boxes so I was determined to get him over this one first time. As I stood by the flower box I looked back at the start box, chose a direct line and imagined Frank flying over it. Feeling pressure of time I hurried on to fences 2 (brush) and 3 (stickpile) sweeping up to fence 4, owl hole. Fence 5a was a hanging log on a mound then sharp left for a skinny part b then onto 6, a chunky bar top before fence 7a & b – irish banks with ditches before and after. Mental note – kick on here and look up. Fence 9 at the bottom of steep decline – an innocuous saddle rack roll top then onto a trakehner (10). Again, this could be a problem for Frank if he looks down and sees the ditch hiding there. Next fence (11) was straightforward – a picket fence into shade then two steps up into the light then onto the hanging log before the water (13). It was here I caught up with a camera man positioning tripods ready for video – we discussed where best to place it and being distracted here I lost count of the fences – I could see flags into the water and looked around to find the fence out – it wasn’t clear – there appeared to be two options – one clearly for the 80 – so the other one must be mine – it was a rather substantial corner on a tricky line out of the water. Hmmmm, I thought, that’s a bit big for a 90. Oh well, onto the next – a hay cart (14) then a long low inviting fence called the dog kennels 15, part b of which was just after a sharpish left turn – two pheasant feeders on an angle (16) next then a brush to finish (17). No real worries there I thought – apart of course from the flower box and that corner out of the water. Frank was calm and collected for the dressage and warmed up nicely – we did a rather good test which I thought worthy of about 37. Just 40 mins to prep for the showjumping – this sounds like plenty of time but after a quick wash down, tack change, boots on, spurs off, water and so on it is time to get into the SJ warm up. Time is needed to steady nerves, check the SJ course again: absolutely sure of the route and to get Frank in the right frame of mind and body for the SJ. He’s much more level headed than he was at Dauntsey and Calmsden – no broncing or squealing but he felt quite elastic, supple and full of energy. Remembering to breathe, take it easy, keep collected, keep reins short, hands down, make full use of the arena for a good approach, not let Frank get too long and flat we had a lovely clear round and I was pleased with our performance as Frank, bless him, had listened to me all the way round. Preparing for XC i had time to sit in the lorry and go through the route with reference to the event program. Sarah Thorne popped over for a quick chat about training as I had been trying to organise something with her whilst I was down in the SW. Suddenly, I checked my phone and much to my alarm realised I was late for XC. Shit! I jumped on and made my way over there. All thoughts now jumbled and nerves jangled. Feeling hot, thirsty and jittery I’m internally cursing myself for being late – I felt like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Suddenly, there’s my friend Jo – just on her way back from the secretary’s tent. ‘Hello Jools’ she says breezily, smiling (and Jo has a lovely smile) ‘I’m late’ I spat out through gritted teeth …’I’m late’. How rude of me I thought instantly… oh shit I’m late and now I hate myself even more for being so sharp with Jo…. Best not try and talk to anyone before XC – we can be quite evil.

The XC steward was lovely. We’re running a little late he says, don’t worry. You don’t have to go down to the start box until you are ready so take your time and warm up. Huge sigh of relief. Managed to calm my nerves a little and pop a couple of practice fences – Frank feels fine. I feel quite weak, as usual, arms and legs like jelly – a mixture of low blood sugar, dehydration, caffeine and adrenaline – not a good state to be in and I feel like I just need to go and lie down. In and around the start box I muttered something to the starter like ‘Frank doesn’t like flower boxes or first fences’ and I’m trying to force a mental image of Frank flying over the flower box into my frozen brain…. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and we’re off. We shot out of the box like an arrow and every cell in my body willed Frank over that fookin flower box… which he flew over at top speed. He went round that XC like a pro – coming back to me when I asked and galloping flat out in between. The only fence he looked at was the irish bank ditchy thing but I was ready with my legs and hands for his fraction of a second, momentary, mini zig zag. Flying down the hill, trying to steady up for fence 9 at the bottom, he came back to me and popped it sweetly before bounding off for the trakehner which he cleared easily. Sensing the homeward stretch he took a strong pull into the dark and I think he would have bounded up the two steps as one if I had let him go…Over the hanging log and into the water cantering out in a lovely rhythm popped neatly over the chunky box corner. It was by far our best XC round ever.

As soon as Frank was settled I was eager to get over and have a look at the scores. Well, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There must be a mistake. Eliminated. What? How come? I have a score of 36 dressage – best score this season, clear showjumping but eliminated XC and 4.4 too fast time faults. There must be a mistake surely. Er no, explained the secretary, who looking at me askance said ‘you jumped two of the bigger fences on the course – including the first fence’. Me, astonished, looked at her with incredulity. Speechless. Trying desperately to process this news thinking oh no you stupid twonk. ‘Yes, you jumped the 100 cm flowerbox and the Novice fence out of the water’. Trying to establish some presence of mind here and trying to work out whether I should feel stupid or stoked – I opted for the latter. Inside I was bursting with glee… I jumped the bigger fences… I jumped the bigger flower box…. he he! Oh, I needed to share this with someone….I skipped over to see Kirsty at the Kicking Horse stand and asked if she wanted to hear a funny story. It seems that it doesn’t matter where I go or what I do – there’s always a funny story. I have to say I laughed about this all the way home.