Winter Riding

I’m not one of those people who stops riding my horse in the winter. Oh, I understand the challenge of garbing up, trudging through snow, dealing with wind and chill, and so on. But short of an outright storm, I’m on horseback with a regular schedule, even in the winter. And even in the face of a storm, there are times when I’ll still be out there. I didn’t let weather stop my skiing when I was a regular downhill skier (except when conditions made it hazardous to get to the ski area, or shut down the lifts), and I use much of the same gear I used for skiing for my riding. Ski base layers for the win whether we’re talking horseback riding or skiing.

That doesn’t mean my winter riding looks like summer riding. Or that I’m doing the same things with Marker that I did with Mocha. For one thing, he’s a strong young horse who to date lacks significant soundness issues. For another, he’s actually easier to ride in the winter than Mocha. She wore front shoes year-round to support the trim appropriate to keep her in work—complex and problematic hooves on the old lady. Plus, as an older horse, I didn’t want to push her.

But Marker boy has big, good, solid feet and he doesn’t need shoes. Between that and the quirks of his gaited breeding, he seems to handle winter riding conditions much better than the old lady did.

Still, as we progress from mud to ice to a foot and a half of snow, Marker’s winter riding looks a lot different from Mocha’s. I did much more pattern work on her than I do him—doesn’t mean he doesn’t work in patterns, just that we have other priorities right now.

For one thing, when the snow got as deep as it is now, I rarely took Mocha away from paths plowed by the barn owner in the field. We ended up doing some complicated must-avoid-certain-horses movements because of her status in the herd as we followed those trails. Deep snow meant pretty much walk or trot with Mocha even on the paths, due to her age, strength, soundness, and dealing with the side effects of her wearing shoes.

Ugh. Snow and horseshoes are a pain. Snow tends to ball up in horseshoes, and can create up to two-inch-high stilts before the ball finally flips out of the shoe…if it does. There are several different types of pads that can be used to supposedly make dealing with shoes in snow easier. They kinda worked. Not well. There were times when I needed to carry a hoof pick and plan to dismount because Mocha couldn’t flip the snowballs out of her front feet, or she could flip one but not the other. And there was one winter where I went through several cans of cooking spray because that was the only thing that really helped the ice break loose in those feet. Even with Mocha’s pads.

Not a problem with a barefooted horse.

More than that, Marker is one of the medium status horses in the field. He doesn’t get bothered by riding near the herd, and the herd doesn’t fuss about him going by or try to push him away. We’ll still avoid horses eating hay because that’s just polite, but it’s not about keeping away from horses that make him anxious. He doesn’t get anxious around the herd, not like Mocha did. That may also be the difference between a mare, for whom the herd is more important, and a gelding who, while he likes being part of a herd, doesn’t have the same drive to be with them all the time.

Marker also handles the deep snow better. He starts out at a slower walk than Mocha, in part because he’s feeling out the footing. If he has a question about it, he asks for a longer rein so that he can lower his head to examine the footing. While Mocha started out in the same speed of walk that she continued throughout the ride, I’ve noticed that the first quarter mile or so with Marker is him settling into footing with a rider. I can tell when he’s warmed up and ready to do more because his rhythm changes. He moves out with confidence. Doesn’t matter if it’s winter or summer, it seems he needs that time to settle in.

This winter, we’ve been working on canter and bareback riding. We’ll start the canter on the paths, in areas that aren’t too slick. Then we move to the deeper, untracked snow. I keep those stretches short because they’re more work. But I also am using the deep snow canters as short conditioning for strength—something he’s needed to develop. He plows right through those short intervals—all in straight lines, no circles like I used to do with Mocha in shallower snow. We’ll probably move to circles when the snow is less deep, but for now, a short interval on one lead in deep snow, then a walk break, then a second interval on the other lead in deep snow is appropriate.

Bareback is something I’m still figuring out with him. He’s pretty bouncy in deep snow so we keep it at a walk, and not in the field but in a right of way that allows for work by the road (to keep him tuned up for spring road work) and small serpentines. Mocha was always a difficult horse to ride bareback for very long. She has a sharp spine no matter how much topline she builds up, even with the cushioning of a bareback pad. Plus the old lady is pretty catty and agile, thanks to her reining and cutting horse breeding. At most I could tolerate about half an hour riding her bareback before I needed to get off.

Marker, on the other hand, has a nice flat topline that’s broad across his back. My biggest challenge is managing that round belly of his—apparently a Foxtrotter characteristic. I have to move my legs a couple of inches further ahead than I would riding bareback on Mocha to find a secure placement. But, once I’m settled in, he’s a nice ride and I don’t have that aching need to get off before I feel like I’m being split in half like I did with Mocha.

There are other parts to winter riding. Looking at tracks in the snow. Admiring the mountains. Spotting birds. Mocha was always about go-go-go, even in snow. She would also find things she wanted to show me in the field—where a cow got through the fence, and places that worried her for some reason. One time she showed me a fawn leg where a predator or scavenger had dragged it into the field (culprit could have been anything from an eagle taking advantage of roadkill to a coyote or something else). Marker is happy to just go along, going places away from the plowed paths.

Winter riding is a slower pace, with different goals. It’s more relaxed. And cantering through the snow is the closest I get to the thrill of downhill skiing these days. Now that Marker’s gotten the feel of doing it with a rider, it’s really fun to go flying through the snow on horseback, popping up in my stirrups to keep the weight off of his back (better for him in deep going).

It takes me back to those younger days on horseback, when I was mostly a self-taught rider on half-trained horses. Only now, at sixty-seven, I have the knowledge and skill of many years and multiple trainers. But putting Marker into a canter through deep snow brings back the thrill of those early days on horseback. I can almost capture the feel and freedom of that young girl.

And that sensation is…priceless.

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