Why a spare pair of reins lives in my show trunk

There are items in my show trunk that earn their place through careful planning: spare gloves, plaiting bands, hoof oil, a first-aid kit and enough snacks to get Archie and me through a long day. Then there are the things I carry because experience has made me slightly suspicious of everything. A spare pair of reins belongs firmly in the second category.

Reins look simple until something goes wrong with them. They are a narrow strip of leather or rubber, a few buckles, and the connection between my hands and Archie’s bridle. At home, a damaged rein is an inconvenience. At a competition, when I am due in the dressage arena or waiting to walk into show jumping warm-up, it can become a genuine problem.

I have learnt that horse shows rarely fail according to a neat schedule. Gear breaks in the float park, gets left hanging on a fence, disappears under a saddle rug, or becomes unpleasantly slippery after a wet warm-up. Carrying an extra set takes very little room, yet it removes one more worry from an already busy competition day.

The small item that can stop a big problem

A rein does a surprisingly demanding job. It needs to withstand the horse’s strength, repeated adjustments, sweat, dust and the occasional enthusiastic rub against a stable wall. Even a well-maintained pair can develop a weak spot near a buckle hole or stitching. Rubber grip reins may split, leather can crack, and webbing can fray where it passes through the billet or buckle.

The trouble is that damage is not always obvious before riding. I have found tiny cuts while cleaning tack that I had not noticed during a quick pre-ride check. A rein can feel perfectly normal in the stable and then show its weakness when a horse tosses his head or leans during a busy warm-up. That is exactly the sort of timing I would prefer to avoid.

With Archie, I am especially careful before cross-country. The reins need to be secure without being stiff, and I want enough grip to keep my hands steady when we are travelling forward over varied terrain. I do not want to discover halfway around the course that one rein is stretching differently from the other or that a buckle tongue is no longer sitting properly.

Competition days leave little room for improvising

At home, I can replace a rein calmly. I have access to the tack room, my tools and a selection of spare leatherwork supplies. At a show, my options are much narrower. There may be a trade stand, but it may not stock the style, length or colour I use. If the event is at a regional showground, the nearest saddlery could be a fair drive away.

Australian competitions can involve plenty of travel before the first test. A trip to Werribee, Boneo or the Sydney International Equestrian Centre may mean loading early, driving for hours and arriving with a horse who needs time to settle. At a local agricultural show, the gear stands might be excellent, or they might consist mostly of items that are useful for someone else’s emergency. I would rather not depend on luck.

There is also the pressure of the timetable. Dressage times can be tight, show jumping warm-ups can fill quickly, and cross-country starts are fixed. If a rein fails shortly before my ride, I do not have much time to borrow one, adjust the length and make sure it sits comfortably. A spare pair means I can solve the problem beside the float instead of spending precious minutes searching the trade village.

Archie’s tack needs to feel familiar

Having a spare does not mean throwing any random pair of reins into the trunk. Archie notices small changes in his equipment, and I ride better when the tack feels familiar in my hands. The backup reins match the width, length and general feel of the pair we normally use. I have adjusted them so that I know where the buckle holes sit and how much slack they give us.

This matters particularly for dressage. A different rein texture or thickness can alter how my fingers close and how subtle my aids feel. I do not want to be learning new equipment while trying to ride an accurate centre line, keep Archie straight through a transition and remember the test in the correct order. Familiar tack removes one unnecessary variable.

I use a similar approach for jumping, although the reins may have a slightly different grip depending on the weather and phase. Show jumping at a venue such as SIEC can involve a long wait in warm-up, several changes of pace and plenty of movement around other horses. A secure, comfortable rein helps me keep my contact consistent while Archie looks at fillers, rails and the general activity around him.

A spare pair is useful beyond breakage

The obvious reason to carry extra reins is a snapped or damaged pair, but that is not the only situation where they help. Reins can become soaked during a wet warm-up, coated in dust at a dry arena or slick with sweat after a horse has worked hard. Sometimes they are technically sound but unpleasant to hold, especially when I need a reliable grip.

A spare pair can also be useful if the original set gets contaminated. A muddy puddle, greasy grooming product or a dropped rein in the float yard can leave leather feeling slippery. I have had days when everything seemed to collect grit: the boots, the saddle cloth, my gloves and somehow the bridle as well. Changing reins is quicker than trying to clean and dry them while dressed for a class.

They are handy when another rider has a problem too. At Pony Club events and smaller competitions, people often help each other without making a big production of it. Someone may need a rein temporarily while a buckle is repaired or a stitching issue is checked. I am happy to lend mine when I can, provided Archie’s own equipment remains safely accounted for.

Careful packing makes the backup dependable

A spare pair only helps if I can find it. My show trunk has a dedicated bridle and rein section, away from damp saddle cloths and muddy boots. I clean the reins before packing them, check every buckle and keeper, and lay them flat rather than folding them sharply. Leather that has been left twisted in a corner can be surprisingly awkward when I am already rushing.

Before a major event, I look closely at the areas that receive the most wear. That includes the holes around the buckle, the stitching near the bit ends and any places where the reins rub against the cheekpieces. On rubber or webbing reins, I check for splits, fraying and hardened sections. A quick inspection is much easier at home than under fluorescent lights in a busy float park.

I also keep a small repair kit nearby, with a hole punch, spare keepers, a leather-safe cleaning cloth and a basic multitool. It does not replace proper tack repairs, and I would never rely on a makeshift fix for a serious failure. It does give me a way to deal with a loose keeper or minor fitting issue while I organise a sound replacement.

The trunk reflects how I want to compete

Packing an extra pair of reins is part of a wider habit: I try to prepare for ordinary problems before they become emotional ones. Competition nerves are already enough to manage. I want my attention available for Archie, my warm-up plan and the conditions on the day, rather than for a preventable equipment panic.

That preparation is particularly valuable in Australia, where a show day can bring intense sun, sudden rain, dust, long distances between arenas and a fair amount of waiting around. At some venues, the phrase “she’ll be right” is offered with good intentions, but I prefer to make sure things are right before I leave home. A spare rein is a quiet bit of practical insurance.

The backup pair has never taken up much space, and I hope I will rarely need it. Still, I have carried it to dressage competitions, show jumping days and cross-country starts because the cost is so small compared with the disruption of a broken rein. When Archie is tacked up and I am about to ride, knowing that an identical pair is within reach gives me one less thing to worry about.

My show trunk is not packed because I expect disaster. It is packed so a small mishap stays small. A spare pair of reins represents that approach perfectly: simple, inexpensive, familiar and ready when the day decides to be more complicated than planned.