Packing hay nets and water buckets for a horse trial weekend

The last time Archie and I loaded up for a horse trial, the mercury was nudging thirty-six degrees somewhere west of Ballarat, and I spent half the drive wondering whether I'd brought enough water. By the time we rolled into the grounds at Tonimbuk, the back of the float looked like a small disaster: a half-eaten hay net, a bucket tipped on its side, and a sulky horse who'd clearly had enough of being a passenger. Packing for a weekend away at a horse trial isn't glamorous work, but it's the bit of the trip that decides whether the rest of the weekend goes smoothly or turns into a string of small emergencies.

Over the past few seasons I've refined what comes with us, partly through trial and error and partly through watching better-prepared friends calmly unload perfect hay nets and full water buckets while I'm still wrestling with a tangled leadrope. The list below is less about theory and more about the practical little decisions that add up: how to stop a hay net disintegrating on the freeway, how to keep water drinkable through a long day, and how to make sure that when you finally arrive at dressage warm-up, your horse feels like a horse who's been cared for rather than one who's survived the trip.

Water first because Australian heat changes everything

Archie drinks roughly sixty to eighty litres a day when he's working at a horse trial, and that climbs further when the temperature soars. I pack water with two jobs in mind: enough for the journey itself, and enough to refill buckets at the venue so he's never stuck waiting for the communal trough. For the float I bring a covered forty-litre jerry can strapped down low so the centre of gravity stays sensible, plus a smaller twenty-litre container that I can decant into a bucket at every stop. The lids matter more than you'd think: a loose cap on a freeway turn is the fastest way to lose half your water supply to the floor of the float.

Once we're at the venue, I usually carry four buckets: two for the stable, one spare for the wash bay, and a final one that lives in the float for late-night refills. If we're at a multi-day event like the Melbourne International Three Day Event or down at Adelaide, I add a fifth bucket because shared wash areas get busy and waiting around with a thirsty horse is no fun. In Queensland the rules around Hendra virus mean you're expected to keep your own water handling equipment separate from communal troughs, so the spare bucket earns its keep for that reason alone. I also freeze a couple of bottles overnight so they go into the esky as solid ice blocks on departure morning, then melt slowly across the day. Horses don't love truly ice-cold water when they're hot, but cool water is a gift, and Archie will drink more willingly when it hasn't been baking in a black plastic bucket since sunrise.

Hay nets, slow feeders, and how much to load

Hay for the weekend splits into two categories: hay for the float, and hay for the stable. On the float I hang a small-hole hay net low and tied short so he can't get a leg through it, and I always pack a spare net in case one breaks or gets left behind at a venue. For the stable I bring two nets pre-filled from home: one with oaten hay for the steady eating, and a second with a touch of lucerne mixed through to tempt him when he's tired and fussy. Small-hole nets slow him down and keep his gut working, which matters after a long float trip when he's standing still for hours.

Quantities matter more than I expected. A horse at a competition eats roughly two and a half per cent of his bodyweight a day, and Archie tips the scales at about 540 kilos, so I'm aiming for somewhere around thirteen to fourteen kilos of hay for each twenty-four-hour period. For a two-day trial with travel on either end I pack three full nets per day plus a half-net as buffer, and I weigh them on the bathroom scales at the start of the week so I'm not guessing. It's also worth remembering that some venues, particularly in Victoria and New South Wales, require horses to be fed from hay nets rather than loose hay on the ground, partly to keep the stables clean and partly to limit the spread of weed seeds between properties. Pre-filled nets also mean I'm not dragging an open bale through a strange stable yard looking for somewhere to store it.

Buckets, spares, and the small gear that saves you

Beyond the hay net and the obvious water carriers, there's a pile of small stuff that earns its place on every trip. I pack a folding bucket that collapses flat and lives at the bottom of the tack box: it weighs nothing, takes up almost no room, and has rescued me more than once when a bucket cracked or went missing. Two leadropes, one cotton and one yacht rope-braid, come along so I always have a spare if one gets muddy, soaked, or simply walked off with. A couple of carabiner clips let me hang buckets off float rails or stable bars without needing a hook, and a roll of electrical tape fixes absolutely anything from a cracked bucket handle to a loose number bib.

I keep a small first-aid kit in a separate bag so I don't have to rummage through the big tack box when something goes wrong: wound spray, poultice, a thermometer, electrolyte paste, scissors, and a few gamgee sheets. Electrolytes get added to one of his water buckets at the venue because Archie sweats heavily on day one, especially after cross-country, and a plain water bucket alongside gives him the option to drink whichever he prefers. Reading about kit from other outdoor hobbies helps too. I picked up a couple of habits after browsing an angler's blog, where the focus on compact, waterproof, and easy-to-pack gear translates surprisingly well to horse trips. The trick is to think about what breaks first and pack against that, rather than packing for the worst-case scenario you'll never face.

Loading the float without losing a bucket on the freeway

The actual loading is where good packing becomes obvious. Hay nets go in first, tied off and hung on their designated hooks so they're not flapping against a horse's leg the moment we move. Water containers sit low and forward, ideally wedged between the chest bar and a fixed bulkhead so they can't slide even under heavy braking. Buckets either go in a solid tack box with a lid, or they get clipped to the inside of the float with a carabiner and a short rope so they swing gently rather than fly. Loose buckets in a horse area are a genuine safety hazard, and I've watched too many people arrive at a venue with a horse spooked because a free-floating bucket clattered into his hocks at a roundabout.

I also check the float's tyre pressure, the floorboards, and the brake controller the night before, and I top up the fuel so I can run the air-conditioning for Archie if we're caught in summer heat on the Hume or the Calder. A spare tyre, a basic tool kit, and a torch live in the truck permanently, and I keep a printed copy of the venue address and the grounds contact number in the glove box in case phone service disappears somewhere between Melbourne and the regional centres a lot of these trials are held in.

At the venue, setting up stable and wash areas

Arriving at a horse trial is its own small art. I park where the ground is level and shaded if possible, then unload Archie into his stable before I touch anything else: a quiet horse out of a float is half the battle. Buckets go up next, clipped to stable bars rather than left on the ground where they tip, and the hay net goes up at a height that lets him eat with his neck in a natural position. I always fill both stable buckets from the jerry can rather than from the communal trough, partly because the trough water often tastes different and he'll drink less, and partly for the biosecurity reason mentioned earlier.

In the wash bay I set up the spare bucket with a sponge and a sweat scraper, and I keep a second smaller bucket just for hosing legs after cross-country when the ground has been heavy. Most Australian winter horse trials have at least one day of soft going, and Archie always comes back from cross-country cooler in the belly and warmer in the limbs, so I'm careful not to cold-hose him straight away. A folding stool, a wide-brimmed hat, sunscreen, and a towel round out the wash-bay kit, and I keep my own water bottle in the float so I'm not dehydrated by the time I've done three rounds of dressage warm-up and the cross-country walk.

Things I've learned after a few too many weekends away

Looking back over the past couple of seasons, the packing list has shrunk and the quality of what's left has improved. I bring fewer spare bits of tack and more spares of the things that actually fail: bucket handles, hay net draw cords, leadrope clips. I weigh hay nets at home so I'm never caught short, and I freeze water bottles instead of relying solely on esky ice which melts too fast in a December event. I also keep a printed checklist on the inside of the tack-room door so I don't reinvent the wheel every time we load.

The other thing I've come to appreciate is how much Archie writes off on me. A horse who travels well, drinks steadily, and walks into the venue calm and hydrated is a horse I've packed for properly, and the rest of the weekend tends to fall into place from there. Hay nets and water buckets aren't the exciting part of eventing, but they're the part that quietly decides whether the trip is a pleasure or a chore, and after a long weekend at a horse trial, that distinction feels like the only one that really matters.