Here’s a great compilation of stories (courtesy of freelance writer Katherine Walcott) from some of our well-known officials and riders about what can and will go wrong on cross-country! ~ Emily
Sue Smithson wrote:
In my first 3-day back in the stone ages… Roads and Tracks went through a large cow pasture. The organizers thought they could pile a truckload of excellent alfalfa hay at the back for the cows and leave the gate open for the riders to trot through. The cows soon bored of the hay and of course wandered over to see what was going on. They blocked the gate and I couldn’t get through. Couldn’t “shoo” them away. Had to wait for the next couple of riders to pile up and somebody’s horse was cow broke enough to move the cows so we could get by. Finished the event, but with about 600 time penalties!
Seema Sonnad wrote:
I was doing a novice level event and as I came around the corner to the second to last fence, the fence judge stands up, yelling for me to stop.
So I do thinking there is a hold on course, or someone has fallen. In fact, the porta-john truck is tooling across the field directly in front of the jump! Apparently, they were a little unclear on the concept of horses galloping.
Ceci Flanagan-Snow fondly remembers a few stories:
1. In my very first, very low level, event I was riding a cute chestnut Arab/QH mare who stood about 15.2 (IF I stretched the tape). I was 5’9” tall with 35” inseam legs. Starting to get the picture of a tall, thin person with legs completely wrapped around the barrel of this little horse? I bought her because I’d been badly hurt in a horse accident and was working on re-building my confidence.
Anyway, we went to our little event. The Dressage portion was fine. Then it was time to compete cross country. The jumps were very low (<2’) and lots of little (dry) ditches. Blaze and I were having a lovely romp through the woods when we came to a small ditch that wasn’t QUITE bone dry. She slammed on the brakes, unseating me.In the back of my paralyzed-with-fear brain I could hear my coach’s instructions echoing “for God’s sake, do NOT fall off in the penalty zone!”. So, ever resourceful, I wrapped my arms and legs around her neck as she daintily stepped through the ditch, eyeballing the sides of the track for my mental markers for the end of the penalty zone.The jump judge was doubled over, laughing hysterically! I held on until I was out of the dreaded zone, then dropped my legs to the ground, re-mounted and carried on to a semi-respectable finish.
2. A few years later I had a new horse. O. D. (Overdraught – named for the state of my bank account ever since I got into horses)was a good, steady-eddy type of guy. I was still in the novice area (my preferences being for dressage – but a little eventingin the ‘fossils over fences’ division was ok with me). What I DID NOT know was that, in a previous life, O.D. had Evented at the Prelim. Level. We did our dressage test and were waiting in the warm-up area for the X-Country portion. My coach strongly suggested that I wake my lazy horse up or we’d all die of old age before we finished the course. I did a few gentle rocking horse canters and all was well (keep in mind that I have NO COURAGE WHATSOEVER.) She also said that, if we went clean cross country I was to give a ‘war whoop’when I got back.
Then, it was time to enter the dreaded start box. Once in, OD was a perfect gentleman – UNTIL they started the 10-second count-down. He morphed into a fire-breathing, snorting, surging 1300 pound pile driver just waiting for the ‘go’ signal. I remember hearing my coach screaming, “Grab mane!” I did.
OD’s butt hit the ground has we shot out of the start box.I don’t remember the first couple of jumps or the sharp right turn into the path through the woods. The next thing I remember was seeing a split in the path. The novice track bore left with some small <2’jumps. The Prelim. track bore right, directly into a >4’ drop jump! OD was determined to go to the drop jump.I grabbed the left rein with both hands and literally dragged him around the corner. Keep in mind that, up ‘til now, I’d been a dazed passenger exerting no control over this eventing machine! Luckily he turned and we proceeded along the rest of the course uneventfully – although at warp speed.
When we got back to the finish line, I remembered Alison’s parting instructions. After clearing the final jump, I dropped my reins (duh!), through my arms up in the air and, high on adrenalin, screamed “That’s better than SEX!” There was a TV camera from the local station focused on me at that exact moment and that somewhat exuberant clip made it onto the 5:00 news. It wouldn’t have been SO bad, except that I’d only been married a short time and my (now ‘ex,’ wonder why?) husband saw it on the news. Ooops.
I ‘retired’ from eventing after that episode and now stick to the more stately ‘dressage’ – but I do remember the exhilaration fondly sometimes!
Katherine Walcott added in her own story:
The first event I ever attended, I groomed for a fellow boarder at my barn. It rained three times: when my rider was in dressage, while she went cross-country and before stadium. It’s a wonder I stayed with the sport. While my rider was on cross-county, it poured. Biblical deluge.
She could barely see the jumps much less any direction signs. When she came over the last fence, she had no idea where the finish line was. She headed for a red spot, figuring that there wouldn’t be too many fools standing out in this, that the red spot was me holding her cooler, and that she’d intersect the finish line if she headed toward me. There wasn’t, it was, and she did.
Other times the horse found me. I groomed for a friend who rode a cute, speedy little mare, who loved to go cross-country. Make that adored to go cross-country. By the end of the course, the mare would be hypersonic and my friend would be hyperventilating. The mare would find me in the finish area, gallop up and pull to a stop in front of me. She didn’t say, Now get this clown off my back, but you could tell she was thinking it.
