My morning riding one of the Cheltenham favourites

Describing the 150-plus horses taking a little light exercise in Monday’s early morning mist as an Irish armada is probably wrong.

The Spanish Armada foundered on the rocks, this one will not. But an armada is what it looks like; probably the most powerful fleet of Irish jumpers ever assembled, in terms of both quality and quantity.

On the basis of not being able to beat them, I joined them on Monday by riding one out – I was allotted The Goffer – for Gordon Elliott. The Goffer is one of the favourites for Tuesday’s Ultima Chase, the race last year in which he led Corach Rambler and Fastorslow, who both go for the Gold Cup this time, to the last.

What the form book will not tell you is that, warming up for this, he hacked up in a two-mile charity race at Punchestown against Flat horses last time.

“I don’t see any more rain coming,” said the trainer, hoping that, for The Goffer’s sake at least, it keeps drying.  
He is a deep-chested good looker with a long neck and big ears; you do not mind your forward vision being obscured if it is by big ears. It is one of the sports ironies that when it comes to conformation, big ears count for as much with some sages as a set of four good legs.

It is difficult to tell just how well a horse is if you do not ride them every day but he seemed pretty happy with life.
And the job of assessing a horse’s well-being is made no easier by an exercise track designed for when Ireland cumulatively sent over 25 horses not 250 and, on turf at any rate, so soft that you are half expecting snipe to get up in front of you.

What I did glean, apart from Brighterdaysahead in the mares’ race on Thursday being the stable pick for this week and that Cheltenham might have to invest in the exercise facilities for the people providing the entertainment these days, is that the trip in the Glenfarclas Cross-Country will take some getting on Wednesday.

Early-morning exercise in the middle of the course on the eve of the Festival, as the townsfolk wend their way to work, is one of Cheltenham’s best-kept secrets. Everyone’s hopes are high, no one yet beaten. If they ever add a fifth day, let this be it: getting up close and personal not only with the established stars but horses which will make their name between now and dusk on Friday.

A good journalist needs a spy in more than one camp though, so a close female relation – I cannot mention names now as you can be fined £80 for missing school – rode out a couple of lots for Mullins, half of whose 70 runners this week are being stabled at Aintree because Cheltenham cannot accommodate them all.

However, she says she cannot remember the names of the horses she rode. Either she is a signatory to the Official Secrets Act or, between lots, she was brainwashed.