Over the coming months I had a few loose jumping sessions with him, and we eventually learnt that he was more than capable of jumping over 4 ft. I’d had him approximately 18 months when he first jumped with me on his back. It was a cross pole, no bigger than 1 ft 3, it was tiny but he popped it with confidence, didn’t peck on landing, wasn’t scared either. I was proud of my ‘soppy little man’ as he’d come to be known.
I continued to show him in hand and we tried our hand at dressage including a 1st when we embarked on the Prelim 10 test – my only 1st in Dressage! He adored shows, wanting to meet everyone and everything, nothing scared him, if it was a dog he wanted to stretch down and nuzzle it, if it was a child, he wanted the child lifting up to fuss him. I laughed at him during those days, he was a gentle boy, with a heart of gold.
I remember the first time I jumped him outside of a school, we’d been out on a hack and on the way back there was two ‘routes’, a non jumping route, and a small 2ft jumping route with 3 jumps on it. We were trotting along on a long rein and he took the jumping route instead of the flat one, I smiled to myself as we jumped the first log, Benji pulling to go faster and me telling him that galloping over them was not allowed.
That summer after much dithering and dathering I decided to take him Cross Country schooling at a local yard, the vet was happy with it, so off we went. The jumps went up to somewhere near the 4ft mark – we didn’t jump them, at least not on that occasion. We’d jumped 2’6 in the school, so I wasn’t going over that height. The only fence that made him go a little wobbly was the ‘A board’ he wasn’t very keen, but after we’d had a walk round it, he happily cantered up to it and cleared it. He made it feel like the most natural thing in the world. The water jump didn’t even make him back off. He wanted to jump into it, so we did.
On the hack back I mused over the days events and those before them that had paved the way. I came to the conclusion that he was a jumping horse, not a flat horse unless it was hacking which he still adored and tackled with great enthusiasm.
Sophia one afternoon suggested we hacked to the next village – not more than 3 miles away – stop for a drink in the country pub then hack back. I knew it was a test of trust to take him out on to the open roads of the North East but I was keen and I knew even if we encountered a tractor, he’d not harm me. So off we went. The hack there was uneventful, it was our time in the pub that was the most fun, Benji was once again the centre of attention with adults and children alike, he loved it and kept trying to sneak licks of my drink in that cheeky way of his. We returned later that evening happy and on a high from our adventure.
Over the years I’d been bullied for being home educated but it was a blessing, I studied in the tack room, in the field, in his stable and at home. I passed my GCSEs despite a rough time in education, and the only thing I wanted to do when I got my results was hug his soft mane. My friends meant a great deal to me, my family less so.
The next year can only be described as horrendous, my family fell apart and my world was shattered into pieces, the only thing that remained constant was my beloved Benji and my new boy Bronko. I left the family home, broken myself, but more determined than ever.
We started competing in Cross Country, even more surprisingly we started winning, soon we were jumping the 3’9 course without issue. I was amazed, his confidence had soared and taken mine with it. There were of course days when things didn’t go to plan, including one which resulted in me having a rather bad fall but even those days didn’t seem so bad, I had my horses, that was what mattered.
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