Handling a Three-Fence Course Combination

A triple bar combination on a show-jumping course has a way of making my pulse jump before Archie has even left the warm-up arena. Three linked fences ask for a rhythm I can recognise, repeat and trust, and any weakness in the canter tends to appear twice within a few seconds. The first thing I do is walk the obstacle without riding it, because excitement is a poor substitute for information.

In my course notes, I use the term triple bar combination for three connected fences rather than one tall set of three rails. The fences may be evenly spaced, placed at different distances, or shaped as a bounce, a short stride and a spread. My preparation changes according to the number of canter strides available, the shape of the jumps and the landing that follows.

Archie is generally bold over a single fence, but he can make a simple distance become complicated when he is tired or when the second obstacle changes his idea of where to land. He often looks late at a wide fence after negotiating a tight one, then tries to adjust with his shoulders. That is why I try to remove surprises in training and rehearse the approach on the actual terrain wherever possible.

Over an eventing season, that preparation may happen at home, on grass at a country club, in an indoor Melbourne arena or on the firm, ringed footing used at a Sydney show. I use the same process at each venue: assess the combination, decide what Archie can do well, and build a plan that leaves room for his judgement. A complicated course should reveal a rider’s preparation rather than manufacture confidence out of luck.

Reading the Combination on the Course Walk

I approach the combination from the direction I will ride it and try to see beyond the final fence. A triple can look manageable from the side and quite different from the approach. The first fence may disguise the height of the second, while the third sits on a line that encourages a rider to glance sideways. Looking through the exercise tells me whether Archie will have a clear visual route or whether I need to keep his eye travelling.

The direction of the curve matters just as much. On a related line, I want to know whether the canter will stay on a helpful arc or whether Archie will need to adjust his stride as he turns. I also note the colours and shapes, especially the contrast between the last element and the background. At a show where the rails sit against banners or temporary fencing, an otherwise obvious takeoff point can become harder to judge.

I borrow the same pause-before-commitment idea found in reading the terrain: inspect the conditions, form a plan, and only then make the committed effort. That habit matters at a venue in western Sydney, where the footing can change after rain, as much as it does on a dry grass arena in regional New South Wales. I look for churned ground, standing water and dusty areas near the fences before deciding how Archie will approach the combination.

Checking Strides, Footing and Geometry

Related distances are not fixed. A comfortable one-stride distance for one horse may be too short for another, and the same spacing can produce a completely different stride depending on the canter rhythm on the day. I estimate the number of strides between each element, compare them with familiar fences nearby and identify which parts are likely to be a bounce, a short stride or a longer placement.

The take-off and landing areas deserve separate attention. I check whether Archie will have enough room to prepare for the second fence and whether the third fence allows him to recover his balance after landing. A narrow landing beside a fence or an awkward slope under the approach can turn a good rhythm into a scramble. If I can see that problem during the walk, I can rehearse it at home rather than expecting Archie to solve it in the ring.

Australian conditions make that assessment practical rather than theoretical. Hard summer ground may offer speed but little forgiveness, while wet winter grass can produce a deep, unpredictable landing. The dry conditions around Adelaide also create dust, and a dusty take-off point can hide a hole that was not obvious earlier. I account for the surface, the weather and the likely horse traffic rather than relying solely on the dimensions marked in the course plan.

Designing a Schooling Exercise

I do not begin by recreating the full height and spread of a competition triple. That approach usually produces rushing, jumping down at the fences and a rider who has forgotten how to ride. Instead, I set up low, adjustable poles in a controlled arena, make the first element a familiar vertical and introduce the shape of the middle or final fence gradually.

The exercise starts with one comfortable canter stride between two fences. Once Archie is waiting quietly and taking the same distance consistently, I add the third element. Sometimes I shorten the first distance and leave the second open. On another day I use a wider final fence to recreate a similar visual effect without forcing a technically difficult spread. The goal is to make the combination feel like one canter rhythm rather than three separate jumps.

I also practise the transition out of the combination. Archie must be able to land, recover his balance and take the next fence without my hands suddenly pulling him back to the saddle. I vary the landing according to what follows: a simple vertical, a lightly raised element or a wider fence. Each variation changes the balance, so treating them as identical exercises would waste useful information.

Quality comes before quantity. If Archie starts crossing his canter, crowding the first fence or drifting through the line, I simplify the exercise instead of adding height. Rest and equipment checks are part of the session as well. Before travelling to a larger show, I often look through Sydney’s second-hand horse gear and saddlery market for reliable poles and cups, though I would never introduce unfamiliar cups into a fast session.

Finding a Rhythm Archie Can Repeat

Archie’s best canter is even, balanced and long enough that I do not have to chase the next fence. Before jumping, I spend time on flatwork with transitions on both reins, checking that he can lengthen without becoming hurried. A combination magnifies every irregularity, so a canter that feels slightly uneven on the flat can become a late takeoff over the final element.

I use a few simple exercises to establish that rhythm. Cantering over evenly spaced poles encourages Archie to place his feet consistently, while a single pole followed by a longer gap helps him adjust rather than fix one stride length. I practise counting aloud, then reduce the counting to silent phases as the exercise becomes familiar. The count is a tool for maintaining rhythm, not a substitute for looking ahead.

Archie also responds to the quality of my canter aids. When he becomes strong over the first fence, I keep the outside rein light and resist the urge to shorten the stride in the air. When he takes the second element too close, I return to the arena and rebuild the distance on the flat. Repeating an exercise that has become awkward rarely fixes it; simplifying and confirming the rhythm usually does.

Choosing Aids That Stay Simple

My basic aid for a triple is an early look, a quiet lower leg and enough rein length for Archie to use his neck. I try to keep the contact soft through the first fence so he can judge the second. Pulling back after take-off makes him wait for the rider’s hands, which can spoil the jump and produce a flatter trajectory over the next element.

Canter lead can be useful when the line bends or when Archie needs to adjust the shape of his stride, but I introduce any change in training. For example, I might begin a short canter on the inside lead to make the related line easier, then rehearse the same line from the outside. This gives me an option in the ring without making the plan depend on a lead Archie has not practised.

I rehearse the approach as well as the fences. If the combination asks for a gallop, I make sure the canter rhythm can naturally accelerate before the first element. If it asks for a tighter canter, I practise slowing down without tipping forward. On the day, my plan is to commit early to the chosen pace, maintain it across the three fences and make only necessary corrections. Constant changes of speed or rein tension create more problems than they solve.

Competing Under Australian Conditions

Competition days vary considerably across Australia. Sydney’s western venues can be hot and humid, while Melbourne’s indoor winter rounds often provide controlled footing but require time for Archie to settle in a confined warm-up area. Adelaide’s summer events are frequently staged in brilliant heat, so early starts, hats and attentive hydration matter. I build these conditions into the plan rather than treating them as unexpected interruptions.

Most of our competitions are run through EFA-affiliated clubs, with riders following the federation’s calendar, nomination process and documentation requirements. The familiar club culture of shared information, volunteer marshals and horses waiting in communal yards is part of the experience. It is also common for competitors to discuss the course with local riders, but I still make my own decisions about what Archie can manage.

In warm-up, I aim for one familiar vertical, one related fence and a short canter rhythm exercise before Archie sees the actual triple. I do not want him walking into the ring already tired from too many rehearsals. At the start, I settle into a steady canter, keep my eyes on the middle element and confirm the first stride. My count begins as I approach, and I try not to react to the first fence if it looks bigger than expected.

If Archie leaves the first element well, I preserve that feeling through the second and third. If the first stride feels wrong, I accept that the combination may need a safer plan rather than chasing every element. The priority is a clear, honest round and a horse who can leave the arena fresh for the rest of the event. A triple is one part of eventing, not a test worth compromising the whole day for.

Reviewing the Round and Resetting

I record the course notes immediately after the round, while the details are still fresh. I note the takeoff points, the distance Archie found and where the canter changed. If time permits, video is useful, but I watch for one question at a time: did I maintain the intended rhythm, and did Archie have the same distance in each related stride?

The answer determines what I work on next. A clean round might mean Archie is ready for a larger version or a more technical shape. A refusal often points to preparation rather than fear, particularly when the distances were inconsistent in warm-up. If he jumped the fences but finished with his head low and his canter falling apart, I look for tension in my aids and loss of rhythm rather than automatically blaming his fitness.

After a competition, Archie receives plenty of water, a check for heat stress and recovery feeding appropriate to his workload. On the following day, I let him move gently before assessing any stiffness. We might return to the arena at a lower intensity, work over a single fence or simply practise the canter rhythm again.

The value of a triple bar combination is that it leaves little room for an unresolved problem. It demands clear riding, accurate preparation and enough trust that both horse and rider can repeat the same rhythm. That makes it demanding, but it also gives me one of the clearest measures of our work together.