Spotlight – September 2019

38

Foto: Birte Ostwald

Spotlight 9/2019 THE US IN GERMANY

all riders, regardless of the discipline, want

to achieve the same thing: to move in har-

mony with their horse, as one.

I watch, mesmerized, as he glides

around the riding arena, long-legged

and languid, performing sophisticated

maneuvers. He makes it look so easy.

“It’s just like dancing,” he tells me.

“Every good rider needs to feel his horse’s

movements, just like a good dancer is

aware of his dance partner’s feet moving.”

It’s not just about technique, though.

Riding is also about emotional commu-

nication — horses read our thoughts and

intentions via our emotions.

“For every thought you have, you pro-

duce a corresponding emotion, which

creates a bodily reaction,” Laukemper

says. “If you think about cantering, you

produce a feeling for cantering and your

horse knows you want to canter. If you

think your horse is going to spook in

the back corner of the riding arena, you

produce an emotional connection with

spooking, and the horse spooks. You don’t

want the corner to be dangerous, but your

knowledge is limited, your imagination

is limited, and you alter your universe via

your beliefs.”

Laukemper passes on a psychological

tip that he used to support fellow mem-

bers of the national training squad. He

encouraged them to think of “a little red

fox,” or any other image easy to conjure

up, and to follow it when riding. The little

red fox trots, so does the rider; the little

red fox jumps over the obstacle and the

rider copies him.

He dismounts. It’s time for me to fol-

low that little red fox and try out some

Western riding moves of my own.

Taking the reins

I approach Mimi and notice the first dif-

ference to English riding: the horn at the

front of the broad Western saddle makes

it far easier to pull myself up. And the

saddle’s size spreads my weight over the

horse’s back, making me feel both secure

and comfortable.

I sit back, trying to relax and channel

my inner John Wayne. He must be in

there somewhere. I take up the reins, au-

tomatically placing them in both hands.

First mistake.

“Remember, in Western riding, you

only use one hand,” Laukemper tells me.

I feel clumsy and all too aware of my left

hand, dangling in midair. I find a home for

it on my left thigh and rest it there.

I have four years’ riding experience,

English style, and every time I’ve ridden,

I’ve used the right rein to move the horse

to the right and the left rein to the left. But

that’s not Western style.

“You’re not riding a bicycle, you’re

dancing,” Laukemper tells me, before

breaking into one of his spontaneous

pirouettes. “When you move in a circle,

you don’t move like this, do you?” he asks,

jerkily moving his right shoulder round.

“You glide,” he adds, twirling with his

whole body.

Laukemper encourages me to gently

press the left side of the reins against Mi-

mi’s neck, while still holding them in my

right hand, supported by slight pressure

from my calf. This gentle push in the oth-

er direction instead of a pull in the same

direction is known as “neck reining,” and

is distinctive to Western riding.

Slowly, I get the hang of it, but it’s not

instinctive — my left hand is itching to

take up the reins. We move on to Laukem-

per’s so-called rituals, which each of his

pupils has to learn and follow in his les-

sons.

We start with ritual number one: each

time I see one of the several traffic cones

placed around the arena, I have to ride

outside it. Each time I see a green plastic

cube, I ride on the inside of it. Just like rid-

ing a bike.

“Why not just ride in a straight line?”

I wonder.

We stop, and Laukemper points to a

narrow plank of wood at the back of the

hall.

“Could you ride along that on a bicy-

cle?” he asks.

I admit I couldn’t, hoping I don’t have

to prove it to him.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Well, I would probably wobble and fall

off,” I say.

“Precisely!” he replies, with his usual

enthusiasm. “You don’t have sufficient

balance. Nor do most people.”

Phew, I’ve been let off the hook.

“So how do you expect to ride in a

straight line?” he asks again. “I don’t even

try to get my riders to ride in a straight

line until they’ve advanced through a few

rituals. That comes later.”

alter [(O:lt&r]

, verändern

approach [E(proUtS]

, sich nähern

calf [kÄf]

, Wade

canter [(kÄnt&r]

, in kurzem Galopp

reiten

clumsy [(klVmzi]

, tollpatschig, unge-

schickt

conjure up

[)kA:ndZ&r (Vp]

, heraufbeschwören

cube [kju:b]

, Würfel

dangle [(dÄNg&l]

, baumeln

dismount [dIs(maUnt]

, absteigen

distinctive [dI(stINktIv]

, charakteristisch

gently [(dZentli]

, sanft

glide [glaId]

, gleiten

hang: get the ~ of sth.

[hÄN] ifml.

, bei etw. den Dreh

herausbekommen

hook: let sb. off the ~

[hUk] ifml.

, jmdn. ungeschoren

davonkommen lassen

horn [hO:rn]

, Sattelhorn

itch [ItS]

, hier: in den Fingern

jucken

jerkily [(dZ§:kIli]

, ruckartig

languid [(lÄNgwId]

, hier: lässig

mesmerized

[(mezmEraIzd]

, fasziniert

neck reining

[(nek )reInIN]

, einhändige Zügel-

führung

obstacle [(A:bstEk&l]

, Hindernis

sophisticated

[sE(fIstIkeItEd]

, anspruchsvoll, komplex

spook [spu:k]

, scheuen

thigh [TaI]

, Oberschenkel

traffic cone

[(trÄfIk koUn]

, Verkehrskegel,

Leitkegel

trot [trA:t]

, traben

twirl [tw§:l]

, herumwirbeln

wobble [(wA:b&l]

, wackeln, schwanken