A Cautionary Tale and A Lesson in Patience

By Karen Piper

My history with horses, riding, jumping, eventing, Pony Club, and dressage are similar to many of my friends. We all grew up with horses. After spending two years in Japan (where both of my parents rode at the Imperial Palace Gardens), my family returned to the United States, and I started riding at the age of seven.

I have a video from a horse show in 1957, where both of my parents jumped, did some dressage, and performed a quadrille. My mother was an Open Jumping Champion for the state of Washington when I was a kid. She taught me to ride, and rode well into her later life, while my father played polo for many years, and was a good horseman. It is their legacy that they both left me: the love of the horse!

Our family’s 10-acre farm was bordered by the Fort Lewis Military Reservation, and I grew up hunting with the Woodbrook Hunt Club, riding as a whipper-in, and riding out on the prairies with my friend, Cricket Dixon. We did it all. Eventing was always great fun – fast and furious – but my dressage was a disaster! I could place, but not win. In 1995, I began to take dressage more seriously after watching a clinic with Wolfgang Niggli. I thought, “I want to do that!” 

Now, years and years later, here I am, still riding!! At 73 years old, I just earned my USDF Gold Medal aboard my 15-year-old Pura Raza Espanola (PRE) gelding, Ureo VII. It has been quite a journey, and one that almost ended due to a lapse in judgment. 

My Hanoverian gelding, Ernst August, and I rode our first Intermediate 1 test on October 7, 2017. We did okay; not great, but it was our first time out. 

Fast forward ten days, to October 17. It was a beautiful day – you know, one of those magic fall days? The trail, the mountains, the peace – they all called to me from across the Griffin Creek valley. There is a trail up there that I often ride, and that day I decided to take my Lusitano mare, Stella, up there for the first time. She’s a bit green, and my friend Annette always said, “Don’t take her out alone, Karen.” But that day, I did it anyway. 

We drove the eight miles up the hills above. I unloaded, mounted, and headed out. Stella was a bit nervous, so I got off and led her about a mile into the trail. Then I went to get back on. 

Instead of leading her a little further up the switchback to where I could get on the near side, I decided to get on from the off (right) side. It was as if I were ten years old again and just wanted to throw myself in the saddle. My inelegance in the maneuver led to my boot hitting her butt as I swung my leg over. I got myself in the saddle and said one “whoa” before she gave two giant leaps, tossing me like a rag doll. I will never forget the sound my head made hitting the ground. The crack of it, saved only by my helmet! 

I woke up below the trail, where I had rolled down about ten feet. I figured out that pretty quickly I had, at the very least, a couple of broken ribs. My neck was swollen, but didn’t hurt. Survival mode had taken over. 

Stella came trotting up the path toward me with one of those “what the heck happened to you” looks on her face, but seemed otherwise unshaken from the ordeal, so I turned her around, and carefully mounted from the left side. As we headed down the path, I took a good hold of her and thought, “Darn, if I go off again, that could be real trouble!” My next thought was, “Mare, you take me out of here safely, please.” And she did. 

As we returned to the trailer, I decided that if she wouldn’t get on, I was leaving her there – I had to get home. Stella came through for me. She got in the trailer with no protest (saddle and all), and we headed down the mountain. 

There is a gravel pit target practice place near the trail, and I could hear people unloading guns. I kept thinking, “Karen, stop and ask for help!!!” Against my better judgment, I decided, “Oh heck with it, just drive the eight miles down to your house.” 

When I arrived home, I called my neighbor, Dave Keiser, crying for help. He unloaded Stella while I went inside, took a bath, and slept through the night. 

The next morning, I felt like I was experiencing shock symptoms. So, off I went to the Urgent Care Clinic, believing I had two broken ribs and a sprained neck. It was much worse. 

The doctor came into the room and told me not to move any more than I already had. I was immediately put onto a stretcher, spending the next four days flat on my back. The doctor held up my X-ray and informed me that I had two non-displaced fractures of my C2 and C3 vertebrae. “Ok, that’s a bummer,” I thought to myself. He then told me that it would require two plates and four screws to fix. Being a doctor’s daughter, I asked what options I had that would keep me out of the operating room – I would do anything. 

My options were to be drilled for a halo device, or put on a brace and lie down for three months to see if it would heal. I chose the brace.

My dear sister Suki put a hospital bed in the living room of my wonderful farmhouse, and I laid down. The brace was fairly comfortable, but very restrictive! Over the course of three months of healing, I read a pile of books, meditated, ate carefully, and committed myself to the project of healing. Every two weeks, a new set of X-rays were taken, looking for “slippage”. 

In the aftermath, I retired my horse, Ernst August, back to his previous owner. This left me with only my miniature horse, London Fog, on the property. At that point, I did not know if I would ride again. 

Three and a half months later, the doctor entered my room again, X-rays in hand, this time with a very different demeanor – a big smile, and the news that I did it – I was healed!!

For me and all other riders, the lesson here is to always wear a helmet. Train your horse to stand when mounting, and be absolutely sure that they are standing still when you get on or off. Work with a trainer if this is a problem. We have all heard horror stories of mounting accidents. 

I was lucky this time, but I was impatient, too. I now advocate hard for a “hold-on strap” that goes over the pommel. It might have helped me in this situation – it has helped me before, in many, many instances. The second you feel the horse’s head and back go up, and their ears go forward, you hold on to that strap. 

Practice being patient with your horse, be smart, and stay safe.

I love the dressage community, especially all of the great, hardworking judges, and my friends and teachers. I think of you all with a smile and kind thoughts, and I have learned something wonderful from every horse and every trainer. Thank you to this sport for the journey and the accomplishments.