Endurance Riding Addict

I heard something this week that I haven't quite been able to shake because it upset me.

A friend had a difficult moment out on course at a recent ride. Things had gone sideways and she was sorting it, but she was stopped, off her horse, clearly in the middle of something. Of all the riders that passed her at least twenty didn't ask if she was okay.

And I don't think that is okay.

She's fine. She got it sorted, got rescued, and both horse and rider are ultimately fit and well despite the incident. But it got me thinking about something I don't see discussed very often: endurance riding etiquette.

Not the rulebook stuff, but the unwritten code that makes this sport feel different from most.
Because it does feel different, doesn't it?
The endurance community is one of the most genuinely supportive I've encountered in 25 years of competing across different disciplines. We don't need others to fail for us to succeed, and I think that shapes the culture in ways that are actually quite rare in equestrian sport. We help each other at vet gates. We cheer riders we've never met. We share information about tricky sections on course without being asked.

But that culture doesn't maintain itself. It gets passed on — or it doesn't.

Newer riders coming into the sport are learning how to compete, how to condition their horses, how to manage vet gates. They're also, whether they realise it or not, picking up the unwritten rules. And if we're not actively demonstrating those rules, we can't be surprised when they get lost somewhere along the way.

So this is a gentle reminder, both for those new to endurance and for those of us who've been around long enough that we sometimes move through a ride on autopilot.

The basics:
Question it if someone's stopped or off their horse.
Pass wide, carefully and call ahead as you come up from behind.
Share useful information.
Be mindful in the shared spaces.
Celebrate completions, not just placings.

None of this is complicated. It just requires a bit of intentionality.

I'd love to hear what you'd add, particularly if you're newer to the sport and you're still forming your picture of what the culture is. What do you wish someone had told you?
And for the more experienced riders, is there something you've noticed slipping that deserves a mention?

Lets share the unspoken rules and look after each other out there 🥰

Pembrey was not the original plan. It had been pencilled in as part of Mila's Golden Horseshoe build, but Mila had other ideas about that particular timeline, and then the ride itself moved from April to May after the tracks flooded. By the time everything had rearranged itself, I was looking at the calendar for Val and thinking: actually, this fits.

So a couple of weeks ago we loaded up and headed to South Wales for a two-day 96km option: 64km on day one, 32km on day two if day one gave me enough reason to be confident. The 64km was the main objective. The Sunday ride was always the stretch goal.

I had two specific things I wanted to get out of this beyond a completion.

First, a vetgate. Val went a little off his feed at Red Dragon last year and I needed to know whether we could get him back to the relaxed, eating-and-drinking-at-the-hold behaviour he'd shown earlier in the season. He's a fussy eater and easily unsettled in new environments, and this matters heading into the bigger rides this summer.

Second, I wanted to see what the 2-day format gave us in terms of the heel cracks that have been reappearing the day after rides for a couple of seasons.

The drive took us about 5.5 hours, which was a little longer than I hoped for but Friday traffic is rarely forgiving. Horses take on a lot during a long journey, and the first thing we did on arrival was walk Val around the large flat field to loosen him up and get the gut moving again. He ate grass enthusiastically, which was a good sign. We arrived at a lovely spot right next to the vetgate, which in the practical logistics of endurance crewing is basically winning the car park lottery.

Saturday morning, Val wasn't very interested in breakfast. He'd barely touched his dinner either. Not a huge concern given the new environment and the fact that he'd worked through his hay and haylage overnight, but I noted it.

His pre-ride prep involved a good massage, a thorough walk and several trot-ups. Kev was at home with the rest of the gang, so it was just Mum and me and we prepared accordingly for a ride that only had water points with crewing at the venue only - a bit different from the standard options.

He presented for vetting with a pre-ride pulse of 36. The lowest he's ever recorded with me. His trot-up was lovely. We were ready to go.We headed to the start and were joined by Lauren and her new mount Marko, facing their first challenge at this distance together as a new combination. Both horses settled very quickly together, although Val may have been a little more chilled than an excited Marko.

I want to be honest about my expectations of Pembrey Forest before we started: they were on the lower side. My horses often find rides with lots of repeated ground or switchbacks mentally draining, especially when combined with limited views, and the route looked, on paper, like a loop within a loop within a loop. When I saw it I may have made a slightly pained face. But rides like this build mental resilience, and sometimes you simply have to get on with it.

Within 15 minutes of starting, my sense of direction was completely gone, which doesn't happen to me often. The marking was superb, the ground varied constantly between earthy tracks, light sand, deep peat, flooded sections and stretches that felt more like sand dunes than forest paths, and it was entirely impossible to switch off.

There are two sections of beach on the 32km loop. Pembrey's beach is the sort that makes you feel very small in the best way, a huge open expanse where both Val and our ride companion Marko had strong feelings about the sand dunes and a specific tyre track, but settled into a lovely canter once they'd established it wasn't going to swallow them.

The vetgate was where the ride delivered what I came for. Val met his 64-pulse parameter in 4 minutes, gave a good trot-up, and then quietly ate and drank at the hold. Not a huge amount, but voluntarily, and I think we are on the right track with that particular challenge.

The second loop started well. We caught up with Amber and her grey mare and settled into a trio, moving along nicely. Then, on a gravel section just after the on course water point, Val lost energy like someone had pulled a plug. He was still bright, still mentally present, just suddenly without forward. I asked him to trot and he was lame. No trip, no stumble, nothing I had felt. I leant out the saddle and there it was: three shoes.

We were about 10km into the loop. I sent Lauren and Amber on, and Val and I sorted ourselves out. The moment we moved onto sandy ground he was completely sound. So we continued: walking every gravel or stony section, letting him find his own pace on the sand. We never found the shoe.

We came in 12 minutes behind the others, which given the circumstances felt pretty good. Then came the creative bit. I'd brought last year's spare shoes just in case, handed them to the very patient farrier at the venue, and explained that I needed a shoe on in approximately 13 minutes because we were at a two-day ride with a 20-minute presentation window rather than the standard 30. He looked at me in a way that suggested he was rethinking his career choices, but he cracked on. We got to the one-minute mark with the shoe on but not the last nail finished. I told him we'd do that after the trot-up - much to his horror.

We presented on the final minute, passed on pulse, nailed the trot-up, and called it immediately. 64km, elevated.
No regrets at all.

Sunday morning he was a different horse. Watching other horses head to the vet like a hawk, nudging me, floating along on his morning walk with trot-ups that I would happily have presented to any official. His back was perfect. His legs were clean. He was ready to go again. I wasn't going to, and I was comfortable with that, although inevitably disappointed.

Pembrey is absolutely on the 'go again' list. The volunteers were brilliant, the organisation was thoughtful and the ride is different from anything else on offer.

Has anyone else ridden at Pembrey? I'd love to know what you made of the forest vs the beach?

Hot weather can add an extra challenge to endurance riding — especially with our unpredictable British weather, when horses may not have had time to fully acclimatise. ☀️🐴

From planning your journey and supporting hydration, to cooling effectively at crew points and knowing when to adjust your ride plan, proactive management can make all the difference.

Our latest article shares practical advice for travelling and competing in hot weather, with horse welfare at the heart of every decision.

👉 Read the full article here: https://www.endurancegb.co.uk/Cms/Spaces/NEWS/News/Riding+Through+the+Heat+How+to+Keep+Your+Endurance+Horse+Safe+in+Hot+Weather

📸 Kerry Dawson

This weekend, Exmoor hosts the Golden Horseshoe, one of the toughest and most iconic rides in England. And we won't be there.

Gutted doesn't quite cover it, but such is life.

The Golden Horseshoe holds a very particular place in endurance riding. The routes are extraordinary, the terrain is unforgiving in the best possible way, and there is genuinely nothing that quite replicates the feeling of riding across Exmoor. It demands precision conditioning, a horse who trusts you completely, and a crew who knows what they're doing before you've even had to ask.

This year's competitors will be taking on all of that with an added challenge: it looks like the weekend is set to be a warm one. Which is wonderful for the views and considerably less wonderful for heart rate management, recovery times, and keeping everyone comfortable through the holds.

A warm Golden Horseshoe is a reminder that preparation doesn't stop at the training plan. It means knowing how your horse copes in the heat, having your electrolyte strategy nailed, crewing proactively rather than reactively, and being willing to adjust your pace if the conditions ask for it. The ride will still be there at the end if you get those decisions right. Chasing a time when the temperature is climbing is a much faster route to a very disappointing vet gate.

Ride smart. Drink early, and often. Use your holds properly. Look after each other out there.

We're hoping to be back at the Golden Horseshoe in 2026. This year we'll be following along from the sidelines, cheering everyone on and probably being extremely jealous of every photo that comes through.

Good luck to everyone on the start line this weekend. Go well, ride safe, and enjoy every moment of that extraordinary landscape.

Are you competing this weekend? Let us know which class you're in and we'll be rooting for you.