Plast's horseback riding camp teaches confidence and cooperation (08/29/99)

Plast's horseback riding camp teaches confidence and cooperation

by Areta N.L. Trytjak

The first week of August, I came home after a weeklong stay at the Silver Springs Ranch in Haines Falls, N.Y., near Hunter, N.Y. I was a Plast camp counselor for what is more commonly referred to as "Kinnyi Tabir," or horseback riding camp. The weather was wonderful - and I'm not just saying that because it's been unbearably hot and humid in the city. It was about 70 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit each day, breezy and always partly sunny - the clouds doing their part to provide us riders with some much welcomed shade. And as any experienced rider will tell you, if a horse is comfortable and the weather is nice, half of a rider's job is already taken care of.

I learned this lesson, and several others, on the first day of "training." It was on a Monday that our entire camp was brought down to the stables for some preparatory instruction on safety and horse grooming. Nobody was allowed to get on a horse until they understood all of the major safety rules; the names of different parts of a bridle; and how to saddle-up a horse properly and safely.

After about two hours of instruction from the ranch owner, my group of campers and I were paired up with certain horses by the ranch instructors, based on our body weight and level of experience. Well, of course, I figured that given the amount of training I had acquired years ago, when I used to take horseback riding lessons once a week at a local stable, I was qualified to be considered as an "experienced rider." Besides, I figured I had to look like I knew what I was doing in front of my campers. And being that I am rather small, Sam, one of the ranch instructors, decided to place me on one of the younger horses, named Sioux.

It wasn't until later that I realized that my previous experience meant little to nothing at Silver Springs. I had learned how to ride horses English-style; the horses at Silver Springs were strictly Western-style horses, which means that they had been trained to accept Western-style commands - not English. Also, the fact that I had ridden years ago did not guarantee that I'd feel self-assured sitting on the horse the first day of camp. And as I learned later from Sam, "It's the way you sit on the horse that lets him know who's boss. If you're scared and unsure - he's scared and unsure. You don't want your horse to be scared, unsure or anywhere near uncomfortable. If you feel like you're in control, he knows who to obey."

From the very beginning, I realized that Sioux would have some difficulty in figuring out who was boss. To be quite honest, I wasn't so sure myself. First of all, I couldn't get used to holding the reins in one hand when I was riding. That was Sioux's first clue that I didn't quite know what I was doing. The way I had been taught in English-style riding requires a rider to hold each rein in either hand and then to tug on that side or rein in which direction the rider wants the horse to go. In Western-style riding, however, if you want the horse to turn or veer left, you place both reins in your left hand and then bring them over his mane to his left side. I had a hard time adjusting to the fact that Sioux had been trained to receive commands differently than from what I had been used to, and that I, not Sioux, would be the one to have to adapt if we were to ride together.

We had been told by the ranch instructors that the horses with which we were paired up with on the first day would most likely be the horses we'd ride for the rest of the week. Initially, I had thought that was a great idea. They had also encouraged us to build up a rapport with "our horses" so that everybody would get something out of the experience. They suggested that we "listen" to our horses and that we pay particular attention to clues that might help us understand how they liked to be ridden. For example, as Sam later admitted, certain horses needed special encouragement during trail rides, or what she liked to refer to as "baby talk." "Horses are like three-year-old-children. They need to be reminded, scolded, forgiven, encouraged and loved ... If Sioux ignores your command to make a turn, force her to. There's only so much discomfort she'll endure with you yanking on that bit in her mouth, and then she'll do as she's told... But if she's being an angel, tell her she's done good, " we were told.

It wasn't until about the end of the week that I had reason to praise Sioux. But that didn't stop me from talking to - or rather begging - her to follow my instructions throughout the week. What 1 had realized on our first ride together was that Sioux liked to walk at her own pace. Two or three days later I also learned that she liked to trot and canter at her own pace, too. It got to the point that Sioux would come to a dead halt in the middle of a group trot through the woods. She would just stop when it pleased her to do so and cause all of the riders and horses behind us to stop, as well. We had been warned by the instructors that any unusual behavior from a horse can cause others to follow suit or get confused and unwieldy. So whenever Sioux decided to be her own boss, I had to try and get her to act accordingly.

No matter how much I asked her to keep going, or yelled out "Yee-haw!" the way I had seen cowboys get their horses going in the movies, Sioux would just stand in the middle of the trail ... and stand and stand. It would take a good couple of minutes before my gentle kicking at her sides would irritate her enough to start moving. And no matter how many times Sam would tell me that a real good, hard kick does the job of ten little kicks - I just couldn't bring myself to really let Sioux know who was supposed to be boss. I figured she'd learn eventually and when I voiced this theory to the instructor, I had no doubt in my mind Sam would have some wise words ready: "If you think you're doing a horse a favor by not scolding it when it's misbehaving, consider the damage you can do to yourself if the horse has the upper hand."

By the end of the week, I realized the value of Sam's instructions. I grew accustomed to Sioux's habits and recognized that her temper tantrums were no more than playful attempts at subverting my authority. Whenever she acted up, I'd "remind" her to play nice. On the last day, the ranch management organized a show for our camp so that all of the campers would have a chance to show off their skills in front of their parents and friends. I just hoped that the progress Sioux and I had made throughout the course of the week would finally pay off.

Only a couple of hours before the show, I still wondered why it was so important for Sioux to toy with me. According to Sam, "Sioux is one off those horses with a little more personality than we'd like to think a horse can possess. And that's O.K. As long as a rider knows how to handle herself, a horse will learn to respect its master."

The show could not have been a greater success. Sioux and I managed to put aside our differences. When it was our group's turn to enter the rink, and we were on our second trip around, full canter, all faces beaming with delight and pride, I could sense that Sioux was having a really good time. I didn't need to remind her who was boss or scold her for acting up. And at the end of our show, after we exited the rink and got a chance to say our last good-byes before leaving for home, I found myself already missing Sioux, wishing we had more time to work together. I stood close by her, holding her reins waiting for Sam to come by and take her to the stable for some much deserved rest. I patted her on her forehead and simply whispered in her ear, "You lovely, lovely noble beast."

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The 1999 Plast Horseback Riding Camp at Silver Springs Ranch in Haines Falls, N.Y., was organized and led by Ksenia Kozak of Ann Arbor, Mich.; with camp counselors Katrusia Haras of Fenwick, Ontario; Ala Klufas of Pittsburgh; and Areta N.L. Trytjak of Plainfield, N.J. Twenty-one campers participated from July 31 to August 7.

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