Why I Created the Immersive Horsemanship Experience

‘When you think about money, God leaves the room.’ — Quincy Jones

”I don't know that it's an issue for anybody but me, but it's true that nothing I did where the only reason for doing it was the money was ever worth it, except as bitter experience. Usually I didn't wind up getting the money, either.  The things I did because I was excited, and wanted to see them exist in reality have never let me down, and I've never regretted the time I spent on any of them.“ — Neil Gaiman, Make Good Art

”If you want to make a small fortune in the horse industry, bring a large fortune.” — Equestrian proverb

I have been working on remodeling a guesthouse on my property for about three years. It started out as a desire to have a bathroom for my boarders (which I no longer even offer as a service) and an extra space for family visiting from out of town.

It took about a year and a half of false starts, work, and some rework, to get the bathroom addition and main house renovations in good shape. It cost two, if not three times what it was supposed to. I was planning to use the guesthouse as a bit of a she-shed where I could do yoga, make art, and sleep house guests on a pullout couch.

But in that year and a half of building, of why-on-earth-did-I-undertake-this remodeling - some important things happened. I was struggling with my big, dark horse - Lucy. Getting bucked and spun, getting stuck, getting met with “come get me, bro” energy when I went to work with her. I’d recently gone from a decades-long background in traditional hunter/jumper riding to falling deep down the rabbit hole of natural horsemanship.

I met some incredible people, whose patience, kindness, and dedication to helping me and Lucy amazes me even more in retrospect than it did at the time.

But I struggled to find someone locally and I realized I needed a mentor who could spend serious time, consistently, over weeks or months, with me and Lucy. I was uncomfortable and embarrassed to ask people I’d met to be a mentor to me. But I asked anyway -  and most of them said no. Most of the “no’s” were kind.

“I’m not set up for that.”

”Ask this other person.”

”You could send your horse away for training.”

”You could come to my clinic.”

”Brooke, I’m technically retired.” (Sorry, Carol.)

A clinic is not what you need when you’re getting bucked and spun when you ask for a trot, getting charged at when you try to “fix it on the ground,” when you’re over horsed but absolutely, unreasonably unwilling to give up on your horse, yourself, and your partnership. A clinic is not enough.

Sending your horse away to a trainer can help - but if there is no bridge between you and the trainer, you will likely recreate the problems when your horse returns to you.

I searched, and searched, and found only two options where a person I believed was both ethical and qualified was willing to let me and Lucy come stay for weeks or months at a time.

They say the stars never align, but some months later, an announcement came that the company I worked for was being acquired. It took a year and a half, but in the end I was able to express my desire to be packaged out of the new company. Suddenly, I had money and months.

I spent almost two months riding in Ocala with Pat Parelli and his team, and I have not been bucked or spun since. It would be hard to overstate how much I learned and grew in that time period. I took every opportunity they gave me to stay later, to do more. I spent hours sitting on Lucy and auditing. Hours riding under watchful eyes. Hours practicing on my own, but knowing help was in shouting distance if I got stuck.

This was where the desire to create a similar experience was really born. A horsemanship vacation - where someone passionate, dedicated, determined could come and get a taste of the experience of being an apprentice to a professional, without having to throw their lives away or quit their day job.

In fact, I was so confident after leaving Pat that I soon bought an OTTB to restart for the Retired Racehorse Project, in partnership with Katrina Natwick - a local Austin pro with performance credibility and a horsemanship background that fit my philosophy and values. We called her Adelaide, a.k.a. Addie, a.k.a. My Forever Friend (JC name). The intent was to restart Addie and rehome her after several months. A year and a half later, she is still with me and I have made exactly zero attempt to sell her.

People were interested in Addie, but I couldn’t imagine selling her to a stranger and to a completely unknown future.

I remember asking Katrina, ”What if we created something where people could come stay here, ride Addie for a week, and get to know her from the people who trained her? We could also get to know the person and whether they will really be the right fit for her.”

I thought this might help address some issues in the typical horse sales process - and it was another reason to lean into the idea of creating this guesthouse for private, immersive horsemanship experiences. Katrina’s enthusiasm, generosity of time and effort, and genuine desire to see the project become a reality also helped me find the courage and energy to pursue it.

In the first two months of our pilot phase, we have helped friends get reinspired, push further, get unstuck. We’ve helped strong, confident riders relax and deepen their trust and partnership with their horses. We’ve helped a mother and daughter on the verge of buying their own property and horses learn how to be safe, inspired, and to know they have ongoing support. In a few days we’ll welcome a junior trainer who is restarting two horses she rescued and has gentled from feral. Then we’ll help a pro, who took a hiatus from the performance world in order to create a family, come safely back toward show jumping and cross country.

Building this business has been a journey for me. I have doubted my concept, and myself, many times. The real costs are high and I’ve felt like I’m out over several different ledges at the same time. After all, I made my “horse money” working my ass off in enterprise tech. I worked with exceptionally smart, supportive people and made Big Girl Money. It’s the strangest thing that I should walk away from that. It’s not what I’m supposed to do.

Maybe it’s because I lost a brother when I was 20, and he was just 24. The “cliche” that “life is short” is very, very real to me. I know my hours are limited. It’s not an abstract concept.

And I want to be outside with my horses. I want to move, to risk, to feel excitement, and thrill, and joy - and to feel alive while I’m here and while I’m young(ish - or whatever 36 is these days).

I’d like to share that feeling with you, too. I’d like to know that I’ve taken the most meaningful things I’ve learned, in horsemanship and in life, and shared them with an open heart. I’d like to laugh, and help you push a boundary, and help you make a memory.