There’s something magnetic about Aintree’s fences. They’re not just big timber and turf; they’re personality tests.
Each jump asks different questions of horse and rider — balance, bravery, timing, stamina — and the answers aren’t always pretty.
Let’s walk the course, fence by fence, and feel how the ground, the construction, and the history combine to make the Grand National the peculiar beast it is.
The Opening Challenge: Fence 1 and 17
Start fast and you pay for it later. The first fence is plain at first glance, but it sets the tone: a stiff measure of rhythm and intent.
If a horse rushes, its jumping becomes sloppy; if it’s tentative, it loses precious position.
Repeat that same obstacle on the second circuit as fence 17 and the mental toll arrives — the field is often scattered, and the exhaustion is real.
The Legend: Becher’s Brook
If Aintree had a character actor, it’d be Becher’s Brook. What makes it notorious is the drop on the landing side: horses clear the top then find themselves in a hollow. That sudden change in gradient can take the wind out of a tiring mare or gelding.
Jockeys will tell you it’s less about the height and more about stance coming off the lip; get the forehand wrong and you’re re-writing the rest of your day.
The fence is named after Captain Martin Becher, who fell there in the first official Grand National in 1839 and famously sheltered in the brook.
Canal Turn: A Test of Decision-making
Then there’s the Canal Turn — not just a fence but a tactical pivot. It turns almost at right angles, so speed must be curbed and accuracy increased.
Sit too deep and you’ll lose momentum for the long run to the next complex; take it too boldly and you risk a herd pile-up.
It’s a place where split-second choices matter. You could win or fall and be out of the race, depending on a half-second’s judgment.
Valentine’s Brook and The Chair: Power Versus Precision
Valentine’s Brook offers the classic “bounce” test: horses need scope and a correct stride to cope with the landing area.
The Chair demands respect; it’s one of the highest fences on the course, but it is jumped only once and has a ditch on the take-off side.
Both ask the horse for forward commitment, but they require different kinds of bravery — raw thrust for The Chair, thoughtful extension for Valentine’s.
Running-in Fences: Fakenham and Beyond
As the race unfolds, the fences become not just physical hurdles but accumulations of fatigue.
Smaller, deceptively simple fences near the finish — Fences 15 and 16, then 19 and 20 — often prove decisive because horses are tired, jockeys are coaxing, and concentration frays.
A fence that looked harmless on lap one can suddenly feel like Everest on lap two.
Why Footing and Field Size Change Everything
Don’t underestimate the playing surface and the size of the field. Heavy ground turns every fence into a stamina test; good ground makes margins tighter and mistakes cost more.
When 34 runners converge, the geometry of each jump shifts — angles change, room to land shrinks, and horses that usually jump clean can be bumped off-line.
The financial side of the race mirrors this volatility: with their influence on past results, betting platforms—Lottoland among them—are constantly making live adjustments to markets based on how horses handle these specific, high-pressure fences, providing dynamic odds for bettors.
Small Margins, Huge Consequences
At Aintree, every fence writes its own little story. Some are psychological traps, others physical gauntlets.
A clever horse that judges the drop at Becher’s, times its stride at the Canal Turn, and still finds something for The Chair — that’s the kind of animal that becomes a legend.
But most aren’t; most are contestants in a race that demands near-perfection.
What do you think? Which fence scares you most, or which one thrills you? Drop a comment and tell us your pick — and if you’ve ever been to Aintree, share the sound of it: the thud, the cheer, the silence after a big jump.
