THE
ALTSPORTS ISSUE
DON’T FORGET
YOUR HELMET
AND FLAK
JACKET
INSANITY IN
THE MIDDLE
Three day eventing is a horse and rider triathalon
for adrenaline junkies BY CAMILLA MORTENSEN
P H O T O BY I R I N A K U Z M I N A
W
e burst out of the trees, gallop up to a log
and jump into a pond of water, then we
leap up over the bank before hurtling on
to the next obstacle. My horse, Queen of
Cairo, flicks her small brown ears back
at me, then pricks them forward as she
hunts for the next jump.
When I tell people my hobby is competing my horse, I
think they picture suit-jacketed velvet-capped champagne-
sipping equestrians cantering across manicured lawns.
But when we are talking about the sport of three-day
eventing, it’s more like adrenaline junkies wearing hel-
mets and flak jackets.
I’ve been eventing for about seven years, and this past
summer Cairo and I moved up to a level called preliminary
which, despite its name, is fairly advanced. We’ve set our
sights on competing at the internationally recognized
level known as the Fédération Equestre Internationale,
aka the FEI.
It’s a pretty big move for an adult amateur on a little
brown horse to move to the FEI one-star level, but why
not dream? Rolex Kentucky is the most difficult event in
the country, and is run at the FEI four-star level.
Three-day eventing, known also as horse trials, is
basically a triathlon of horse and rider. On the first day,
we compete in dressage — like figure skating but instead
of ice you’re on a one-ton animal with a mind of its own.
Judges evaluate horse and rider on their execution of
movements, from basic circles to more complex maneu-
vers that look like dancing. Dressage is Cairo and my
weakest link. The goals of dressage include elegance and
submission. Picture horses trip-trotting around like four-
legged ballet dancers, and Cairo and me doing a Lone
Ranger impersonation. You get the idea.
After dressage, we are usually hovering near the bottom
of the placings. A good score is in the 20s. Cairo and I tend
to see numbers in the low 40s. The lower the score, the bet-
ter. At my last event, and our first go at prelim, our dressage
performance left Cairo and me in third to last place.
Day two is cross-country, which means charging
balls-to-the-wall through the woods and across fields;
leaping logs, tables and ditches is more Cairo’s and my
style. For cross-country, I suit Cairo up in protective
boots. I wear not only my helmet, but an armored vest.
Prelim fences are 3 feet 7 inches tall, and some fences
can be 4 feet 7 inches wide.
Riders are scored on timing and clean rounds — you
want to make it over all the obstacles in the right order in the
time allowed. Judges dock you 20 points for every fence the
horse refuses to clear. Fall off and you’re disqualified.
Each fence is marked with a white flag on the left and
a red one on the right. Eventing’s unofficial motto is “red
on the right, white on the left, insanity in the middle.”
And it’s not just me who’s a little insane. Marlena
Kelly, who owns Fernbrook Stables near Junction City,
says she started off riding Western but “there wasn’t
enough adrenaline involved in going in a circle on a horse
as slow as you can while dressed like Elvis in a cowboy
hat shaped like a taco. I needed something that made me
feel scared enough to make me want to puke, so eventing
seemed logical.”
And Amanda Davis, who keeps her horse Sara in
Pleasant Hill, tells me, “I event because I’m a little bit of
an adrenaline junkie, and it gets my heart pumping!”
Davis recently broke her hand when Sara threw a spirited
buck after a fence. Davis is champing at the bit to get the
all clear from her doctor to get back on a horse.
For those who’d rather watch than risk broken bones:
Inavale Farm in Corvallis is the location of Oregon’s only
recognized horse trials, and the competition allows
spectators to watch standing in the field as horses and
riders gallop by.
Cairo is crazy-good at cross-country. And when I say
crazy-good, it’s with the caveat that I’ve heard people say,
“Wow, that horse is really talented but she looks crazy and
I sure wouldn’t ride her,” as we fly by.
When heading toward the start box, I’m often queasy,
wondering why in the world I would sign up for this. The
moment the timer starts, however, all I can feel is Cairo’s
intense desire to “jump all the things” and we are off.
Cairo’s talent for springing over large immobile objects
means that by the end of cross-country day, we often move
up from nearly last to more the middle of the pack, because
other riders have racked up 20-point refusals and penalties
for going too slow, or sometimes they fall off.
The third event is stadium jumping. The horse and
rider team jump a course of brightly colored fences made
up of poles that do fall down if you hit them. If you knock
a rail, it’s four points added to your score. It checks your
horse’s dexterity to turn and jump carefully in the same
short time period you’ve asked the animal to gallop and
jump fearlessly at speed.
Clair Barnett, a nurse in Lebanon, Oregon, who com-
petes at prelim with me, is also looking to move to one-
star level. She sums up eventing beautifully when she
says she does it “because no other sport combines self
control, precision and bravery while having to rely on a
1,300 pound free-thinking foreign-speaking teammate.”
She adds, “It’s the ultimate high with deepest love and the
strongest bond.”
At our first go at prelim, Cairo and I finished with no
points added in cross country and only one rail in stadium,
bringing us from third to last to a pink fifth place ribbon
— not bad for our first time out! Now we are just waiting for
the rain to stop so we can hit the cross-country again. ■
eugeneweekly.com • March 2, 2017
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