To Portugal and Back - Again and Again.

And so I came to Espartacus. Espartacus was a grey, pure-bred Lusitano who belonged to Alberto and was ridden by him on his farm. He was kind, calm and just what I needed for that first week. I had a lesson in the morning and another in the evening and I spent a good deal of my time with Jorge yelling 'Sit BACK, Christine, lean BACK, the horse always goes first, lean BACK'. I would spend about 45 minutes in the school having tuition and then I would be sent out into the outside school to play around on my own and to practise what I had been told at my own speed. I learnt more in those five days than in my entire riding career up until that point. There were times when I thought my head was surely going to touch the horse's croup, there were times when I thought I was surely going to fall off, there were times when I thought if I didn't fall off, my legs would. The last day came, and the last lesson, and after Alberto had given me some final advice ('Don't forget your lean back, Christine') he went on 'Now it's another thing; it's completely different from the beginning of the week - you are using your legs'. He said goodbye and turned away, and then suddenly turned back and said 'Congratulations'. Proud? It doesn't come close.

"Charlie" - 'Slumming it' with a local farmer - when Jorge's yard was full one day...!

I went back to England and for six months I practised my lean back, much to the dismay of my ever patient English teacher. This was not because she disapproved of the idea - simply the execution. Anxious not to tip forward but without the strength to hold myself in the correct position, I was doing a passable imitation of an old hunting print. I believe the words 'chair seat' may have passed her lips once or twice. Gradually, however, I sorted myself out and started to open my chest and hold myself straight. In January 1997 I went back again. After my first week in Portugal my confidence had improved enormously and my riding had improved with it. I was still little more than a 'false beginner' but I had the beginnings. I rode Espartacus again, for one hour each day, but for my other lesson I was introduced to Charlie. Charlie was a glossy little brown horse with a nose like a camel but a nose so soft it made velvet seem rough. When I first saw him being warmed up for me some of my old worries returned. He was snorting and dancing and generally behaving as if he thought he was 17 hands and big with it. 'Don't worry', said Jorge, 'he's very calm; the children ride him'. Since all the children I had seen at the yard could ride the jodphurs off me I was only partly reassured by this, but I trusted Jorge and he was right. Charlie was the sort of horse who, with a child or novice rider on his back, would trot cheerfully round without a care in the world, his nose poking out in front and his hocks trailing behind. With an experienced rider he changed completely, and could be so light in the hand that he felt almost insubstantial. Charlie taught me how to cope with a double bridle and he taught me how to feel. Light when you were doing things properly, he was happy to lean heavily on you when you were not, and I learnt a great deal about the adjustments of weight and balance from him.

A view of Coruche...	Typical architecture in Caruche.

I went back for the third time in July last year. By now Jorge had moved to a new yard - the Centro Hipico de Coruche. Although not quite finished when I was there, the yard has greater potential than the previous one and is in a beautiful setting. It lies about a mile outside the very pretty town of Coruche and has two outside schools, both of which have magnificent views over the countryside. The indoor school again has a marvellous spectators' gallery. The day I arrived I saw Jorge and we chatted a little about my riding in the past six months. I knew I had not improved as dramatically as in the previous six months but I also knew that I could not expect to keep improving at that rate. I asked Jorge which horses I would be riding. 'Charlie - and do you remember Dezemfado? We'll try him again'. He still spooked with me on occasion, but by now I was far more relaxed and had learnt to anticipate what was likely to set him off and to ride him through it. We worked in the indoor school and outside, and by the end of the week it seemed at times as if I had only to think of asking him something and he would do it. I made my first attempts at passage. I have a photograph which Jorge took in the outside school: my knees are up round my chin, my arms are rigid, I've pulled his neck in so far that he's broken at the poll, but even from the photograph you can see that he's doing everything he can to give me what I'm trying to ask for.