Henrik Johansen Clinic March 23, 2008
Posted by kimayars Arena Work (Horse)
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Last November I rode Tigger in a Henrik Johansen clinic. I had a great ride, and despite my overwhelming nervousness, had a very positive experience. I vowed that I would do it again.
Last Friday was “the again”. Honestly, it almost didn’t happen. Between my daughter’s 7th birthday and conflicts at work (I actually took the horse trailer to work to cut down on loading time) I made it to the clinic on time. Tigger loaded like a champ, and unloaded calmly and cooly. So far it was the best he’s every travelled with me. The only hiccup while getting there was I took back roads to the barn which were very windy, hilly and narrow (lots of fun with a Ford Excursion and a 2-horse slant trailer). I inadvently made one of my girls carsick. (Oh yeah, my family came with me.)
After tacking up I went to the arena to wait for my turn to come in. It’s customary to wait until 10-15 minutes before your ride time and then enter the arena to begin warming up. When I was near enough to see the horse who was before me, I was greeted with a bucking, balking, bitchy, stubborn, HUGE draft-cross mare. I put Tigger in the crossties and waited until she was finished. There were some definite control issues that I didn’t want to interfere with.
After that horse left, I went in and Tigger and I did our little routine. We make sure that we had a brain on the ground first. Usually only a little light in-hand work is required to bring him back to earth. Today was no different. I led him to the mounting block, calmly leaned into him for a bit to let him know what was coming, and then carefully placed myself in the saddle.
Then he bolted.
This was the same kind of bolt that happened when he dumped me. I also didn’t have my right stirrup yet. However, I was more balanced in the saddle this time and was able to turn him to the right (so the momentum would be transferred to my left stirrup). I sat up so I wouldn’t get pitched forward. By golly, it worked. I stayed on, and got enough control to begin to put him to work and get his attention again. Whew!
My trainer appeared and offered to hold him while I picked up my right stirrup. I eagerly accepted her offer. As I continued my warmup, I heard Henrik say to her, “After seeing horses all day, I finally have a student! This horse has ENERGY!” Oddly enough that comment made me more nervous. I was the last of 8 riders that day. How on earth did I end up with the most forward of all the horses? Lucky me…
There are many things that I like about Mr. Johansen: He’s calm, he’s very complimentary, he tells you exactly what to do, and he’s fair to the horse. Within a few minutes you can’t help but feel that even if the worst thing possible happens, it will still be alright.
We started out doing shoulder-fore around the track at the walk. Except that I was having a really hard time keeping Tigger at the walk. “Okay, he said, let’s trot then.” Except then Tigger wanted to canter. I felt like I was on a runaway train. I don’t ride with a whip or spurs, and I keep my legs light on him. Yet his enthusiasm was barely controllable. We started using 10m circles counter-bent to get his speed under control. Things started to improve.
We took a small break and he explained a few things to me. When Tigger rushes, I pull on on the reins. This makes him feel trapped, which feeds into his anxiousness. I then pull harder, he gets more anxious, and so on, and so on… This much I knew, but I didn’t know how to stop the cycle. I didn’t feel Tigger was listening to my seat, but how do you school that when you feel like you’re on a tightly coiled spring? Well, you go back to basics. School your transitions. Trust the horse to do the right thing. Use your seat first, then use the reins, but in a resiting fashion, not pulling. This sounds SO easy, but when you have a bad habit like I’ve developed, and in general have begun riding defensively, it is a hard thing to overcome.
We started with walk/halt transitions. It took nearly all my focus to NOT pull on the reins. At first he blew through my half-halt. Henrik had me drive him into the outside rein, and use only the outside rein as my brake pedal. Tigger threw up his head, but wasn’t trapped. He settled and stopped. We continued this until all I needed was my seat to cue the halt.
Next we moved on to trot. He immediately started rushing, so Henrik had me do the same thing, but within the gait. Through the use of my seat and the outside rein, we would slow the trot until we were barely moving, then drive him forward to his working trot. I use the term “drive” loosely. All I really have to do is start posting. The catch here was the tempo between the collected trot and the working trot had to be the same. The only difference was the length of stride. It was hard, and at this point my thighs were burning trying to control my posting to keep an even tempo.
Then all of a sudden, it was there.
I know Henrik saw it too because that’s when he had me go full arena. Tigger was round, floaty, and soft. My hads were steady, it was easy to post, and he was straight. We went everywhere in that arena, and Tigger kept the frame. He had self-carraige and was maintaining it! Henrik simply said, “And now, just enjoy him.” I did.
Finally, Henrik had me come down to his end of the arena and put Tigger on a 20m circle. “Softly,” he said, “feed your inside rein out, and encourage him to stretch.” I must say, I have never felt anything like this before. He’s neck went out — not down like it usually does when we stretch, but OUT. The suspension in his trot seemed effortless, and he felt big and powerful. I seriously wanted to cry. He felt beautiful.
As I carefully took up contact I asked Henrik if I could give him a break. In my opinion Tigger deserved it. Henrik agreed.
My ride ended there. I honestly don’t think I could have topped that, and I wanted it to be a positive experience for both of us. Henrik’s last words to me were, “You have something special here. He’s very forward and he has a wonderful temprament. He is lovely.” I was beaming for the rest of the night. (Okay, and for the next two days.)
I took away from the clinic more than just techniques on how to harness Tigger’s energy and direct it. I took away a sense and feeling that we could do great things together. I’m not talking 3rd level tests or anything like that. I mean that we could be great with each other. I left knowing a little more about him, and hopefully he knows a little more about me. There’s an old adage, “It takes you a year to get to know your horse, and another year for your horse to get to know you.” I have only owned Tigger for 10 months now. I feel as if the best is yet to come.
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