To novice and nervous riders alike, the saddle seems to be the only thing keeping you on the horse – a seatbelt if you will. Something will eventually happen that proves the point that the saddle is there more for your comfort than control of the horse. If you’re lucky, this incident will be innocuous, and will not have involved contact with either the ground or a jump – the latter being for those of us who ride horses who feel: ‘one of us got over the jump, we’ve cleared!’.
For me, this experience was as painless as it was surprising. I had been hacking for about five years when my mother and I decided to go on a horseback safari in the Limpopo. I was excited and had been looking forward to this trip for months, especially with the prospect of getting close to the game and seeing them in their environment without the intrusion of a car, while still having a getaway vehicle
Riding Out
Being nervous about outrides due to various unsavoury incidents, I had determined that the safari would be a great opportunity to get over my fears, but I was still somewhat agitated. To help myself feel more secure, I had spent some time going over my bad riding habits and their remedies in preparation. All very clinical, but none of this helped me to deal with the surprise variable – I was being sent out into the bush, with wild animals, on a horse wearing something that looked like it came out of a John Wayne movie! I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe that this ‘contraption’ from the wild west was going to hold me on the horse. I’m quite sure that I failed to hide my incredulity, and came across as both nervous and inexperienced.
Trail Saddles Explained
After some convincing, I made my way onto the horse, in a most ungainly fashion as various bits of the saddle were sticking out, and required a higher lift of the leg than an English. I had pretty much convinced myself that this would be the first in a long series of sacrifices of my pride. I must admit that for the first hour, I didn’t notice the horse I was riding, the late afternoon sun peeking through the thorn trees, and the birds around us – I was entirely consumed with trying to figure out my saddle.
It took me a while to realize that I was comfortable if I relaxed. My legs were coaxed into just the right position, and the slight rise and deep seat supported my lower back, and would do so for days to come . . . Suddenly, it all made sense and didn’t seem quite so ridiculous.
I’m not suggesting that this type of saddle would do for jumping, what with the horn in the middle to catch one rather painfully during a refusal, but for the long hours of a trail, I can’t think of anything better!
Horseback
Finally, I noticed the horse I was riding, where I was and what I was doing. I rode a trusty Boerperd who knew exactly what he was doing, even if I didn’t, and liked a good tickle between the ears. Unfortunately, we didn’t see much game apart from birds, giraffes within the camp and some skittish zebra – perhaps the curse of being a local. The Limpopo worked its charm though – nothing quite compares to spending quality time with an animal, beautiful and peaceful scenery, a phenomenal sunset or two, and the exquisite fresh air.
