Riding Side-Saddle

Last August, I had the opportunity to ride side-saddle at Firefly Equestion in Utah. I've ridden astride a handful of time prior to this experience, which certainly helped, but in no way do I consider myself an experienced rider.

Firefly had two different types of side saddles--a Western, which has a lip that curved up at the back of the seat (the cantle) and an English, which doesn't curve. Both saddles had two pommels, or leaping horns, on the left side and a single stirrup.

Fun fact: the leaping pommel wasn't added until the mid-1830s. This addition increased security for the lady when she galloped or jumped. Prior to that time, the lady had to be a very skilled rider and exercise caution when jumping or riding at faster speeds.

When mounting my horse, I used a tall mounting block. My left foot went into the stirrup and my right leg swung over the far side of the horse as if I were going to ride astride. Once my rear was in the saddle and my left thigh was tucked up into the lower pommel, I swung my right leg back over the horse and placed it in the upper pommel. If I had been sitting in a chair, it felt like I had frozen in the middle of crossing my legs with the middle of my right calf hovering just in front of my left knee. The top pommel cupped my leg just behind my knee.

It's important to note that my hips were parallel with the horse's back, my shoulders back, and my rear as far back in the saddle as I could sit the entire time. (The lip in the Western side saddle would have been very helpful in this instance, if only to indicate where I was in relation to the edge of the saddle.) This position, as much for the horse's comfort as my own safety, distributed my weight more evenly across the horse's back and kept my balance centered on the horse instead of leaning toward one side or the other.

Once I was situated in the saddle, my riding instructor handed me a short riding crop which I held in my right hand. My hands went over the top of the reins instead of under. (Imagine you were forcing open an elevator door.)

Instead of squeezing my legs to start moving like I would if I were astride, I nudged the horse with my left leg and tapped his shoulder with the crop.

We started off with a walk while I adjusted to this style. Honestly, the hardest part for me was keeping my back and shoulders straight. I imagine that for Victorians, this was not nearly as difficult as it is for modern Americans. I also had a tendency to shove my foot forward in the stirrup instead of leaving the ball of my foot on the bar.

Once I was comfortable with a walk, we increased speed to a trot. This is where I really had a difficult time. Where a walk is a smooth motion, the trot is a lot bouncier and I, in my silky athletic pants instead of a natural-fiber riding habit, had a hard time staying back in the saddle. Every time I slid forward or off toward one of the sides, my horse would slow down. (I guarantee I would have ended up on the ground if it weren't for his good training.)

Unfortunately, my lesson ended at this point.

I was surprised at how much of a difference the correct posture made, but I would try it again in a heartbeat.