HRCAV 100 Point Dressage Award – Feldale Griffin & Walter Berger
Griffin is an enigma wrapped in a blanket of eventing pedigree. His dam boasts lineage from the legendary Staccato, and his sire’s bloodline traces back to the equally famed Souvenir. Toss in a few notable names like Cont… something or other, and you’d expect nothing short of equestrian royalty. But Griffin, bless his heart, didn’t get the memo.
I’m not just a rider. I’m a nomad of the equestrian world, shifting gears from trail riding to the thrills of eventing, and now, to the intricate dance of dressage. My journey with Griffin, a patient soul who’s probably rolled his eyes at me more times than I’ve rolled mine, has been nothing short of startling.
Years of chasing ribbons and picking up bruises from eventing and jumping, only to find ourselves, in the end, at the serene yet maddeningly precise world of dressage. It seemed like a natural fit – for once, something clicked. Griffin, relieved, perhaps, not to face another jump, took to this new life with unexpected enthusiasm.

In just two competitions, we pointed up to Level 1. From there, it was like we were on a slow, steady rise, our scores inching closer to that coveted 70% mark. We’ve even dipped our toes into a few Advanced tests. Griffin, the cheeky fellow, has discovered his flair for flying changes, often throwing them in where counter canter should be, just to keep things interesting. Don’t breathe or move just in case Griffin gets any ideas that should be mine alone.
The goal now? Hitting that magic 70% in Level 1 and pushing towards Advanced. The never ending journey to that unachievable dressage goal of perfection.
Griffin’s a dream to handle. He’s Zen – pure, unadulterated Zen. When we travel, if it weren’t for the camera, I’d forget he’s in the float. He’s meticulous, rarely poos in the float or when tied up, and does not wee. Low maintenance to a fault, and a terrible bucker, only after jumping, like he’s reminding me of our past.
He’s got a soft spot for the ladies, probably because they’re treat machines. A nudge here, a nicker there, and out come the goodies. Me? A stingy sugar cube after a ride, maybe a piece of liquorice if he’s lucky. Poor Griffin, truly a neglected soul in a world of indulgence.
I owe a debt of gratitude to my long-suffering supporters and sponsors, who keep this circus running. Hats off to Don Touzel, my sand dancing shoe applicator for over a quarter century. To our patient, intermittent coaches: Pam Hall, Antony Bartlett, and Manolo Mendez, you’ve helped us steer through many a storm. The Trading Stables and Take Off Showjumps are also part of the mix.
And let’s not forget the body workers – Nicola, Christine, and Stacey – who’ve patched us up more times than I can count. Finally, to all the family and friends, you know who you are, thank you for being the backbone of this wild ride.
©?Walter Berger 2024