Friday June 27 2008
Two gold medals, four sliver, one bronze in European and World Endurance Championships. Once Italian Champion (1997), once European team Champion (2001), once Individual European Champion (2001). One otherworldly horse - Faris Jabar. And this, after Fausto Fiorucci only began riding horses about 15 years ago, in the early 1990's. He'd been a runner, and biker, and a champion fisherman, but it wasn't till his friends said to him one day, "Come ride a 30 km ride with us," that he got on an endurance horse for the first time in his 40's. He won. And he was hooked.
Whether it was beginner's luck, or skill, or both, Fausto came across perfection early - he liked the young 3-year-old Faris Jabar ("brave rider") the first time he saw him, but it wasn't until 2 years later that he got him. He was a stallion at the time, and, Fausto shakes his head, "He was impossible." Once gelded, Faris eventually blossomed into a terrific endurance horse - nothing like him in the world, Fausto will tell you. He may be biased (who isn't about their own horse), but all those medals and the Italian championship came with Faris Jabar. When Fausto speaks of Faris, he is still, after 15 years of competing on him, amazed at what the horse can do - at his mind, at his heart, at his will, at his turn of foot. Fausto runs out of words, and it's not just because he can't find the English word, or I can't understand the Italian word. It's because Faris Jabar still leaves him speechless, shaking his head. "He has.... not just heart... but..." he gestured inside and whirling up to the heavens. "Soul," I offered. "Yes. Soul." Later he came up with another description: "He is like poetry. He is my endurance poem fantasy." When he rides Faris, he controls him with just his voice, not his legs, "OK Faris, let's go!" - although sometimes he admits he does have to use his arms to pull back on him and slow him down.
Fausto and Faris just won a 120 km race a few weeks ago - Fausto clocked the last loop at over 50 km/h - and were going to compete in the Gubbio CEIO Nations Cup on Saturday (of which Fausto is Organizer), but Fausto broke his ribs while riding another horse recently. It isn't the first time Fausto has ridden injured - he's ridden shortly after surgery on a busted ankle, and once with a torn shoulder ligament (both times, he had to be lifted on and off the horse), but this time he's a bit concerned about puncturing a lung if anything else happens.
He and his wife Laura Ombretta founded Faula Arabs in 1992, shortly after Fausto began riding endurance. Through the years, with his steady success, and his dedicated observation and careful studying of the horse, Fausto developed his own approach to endurance, which he offers in an endurance school, with emphasis on not one particular thing, but all the details in the whole picture. "You can have 1000 things, and if one thing is wrong, the whole thing is no good." If a horse has a problem, you have to think ahead to possible consequences, not just look at the one little problem. In his endurance school, he shares his experiences in conditioning, balanced riding, proper equipment, feeding, and shoeing. Nine years ago he developed his own patented Horsetec horseshoes, (Faris was his first guinea pig), which all the horses in his stable now use.
Fausto seems to some horsemen to have the secret to fixing lameness and soreness problems; but his secret is: "There is no secret." It's common sense. You look at the horse, you think about what is going on with the horse. "If you have one small problem with the foot and you try to correct it this way, you affect the horse here (the knee), or maybe here (the shoulder). You have to think about everything."
Fausto currently has 9 horses ("That's enough!") to ride, several brothers to Faris Jabar, and an able young horseman, Matteo, to assist. "He's my future!" says Fausto.
You can see Fausto's obvious appreciation for not only his horses, but for animals in general - his barn is full of cats, who come running like dogs when they hear his voice, guineas, chickens, a swan and a duck. And then there's Du Du William de Villa Fiorucci (or some such title), fierce Lord of the Fiorucci manor, ferocious protector of Fausto and Ombretta, who doesn't know he's the size of a teacup.
He's the apple of the Fioruccis' eyes... just like a certain gray 20 year old gelding in one of the Faula Arabs paddocks.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 2:01 PM
Thursday June 26 2008
I was headed by train from Milan to Gubbio, where Italian endurance rider Fausto Fiorucci was picking me up at the statzione.
I missed the first train at 9 AM, because it was full, so I got on the next one 2 hours later. I called Fausto to let him know. Six hours later, I was almost at Gubbio... but the train stopped in the station just before Gubbio, and it just sat there, for 20 minutes, doing nothing. So after coming two hours later than planned, now I'm 20 minutes late.
We finally got moving, and in 15 minutes were coming into Gubbio. I have a habit I follow when riding trains - get off the train the same door you that got on. I gathered my bags, and headed back to the door from which I entered the train, and there waited with another Italian couple for the train to come to a stop. I saw Fausto on a bench waiting, talking on his cell phone.
The train stops. We push the door button. Nothing happens. We push it again. Nothing. We start pounding on the button in a panic - nothing! We look at each other in bewildered panic. Bloody hell! We grab our bags and run through the train car to the next exit door, and push the button. The door starts to open - just as the whistle sounds and all the train doors slam shut and the train starts moving! Oh no! I see Fausto get up, frowning, starting to walk away, because I didn't get off the train. I start slamming on the window and yelling, "FAUSTO!" but he doesn't hear me. AHHH! The three of us look at each other - we are stuck on the train! This is like the start of a Stephen King novel!
I called Fausto on my phone, but could only leave a message, "I was on the train! I saw you! But we couldn't get off! I guess I will get off at the next station and hop the next train back to Gubbio." The couple decided the same thing - and that is when we noticed that one of the doors had a sticker with a slash across the picture of a person stepping off the train. "No uscita" - no exit. On the other side, no such picture; you can exit through that door. The only problem with that is, unless you are familiar with the local station stops, you don't know which side of the train you must exit from! "Ay, Mama Mia!" they exclaimed. Mama indeed!
We start to get worried as, 6 minutes later, the train starts slowing down for the next station. If our exit is on the left side of the train (which Gubbio was not), we are OK. If our exit is on the right side of the train, we can't get out this end of the car; it would have to be out a door at the other end - we won't make it again. We are at both door windows, craning our necks to try to see which side the platform is on... and we luck out. The platform is on our left, and we can exit the left door.
We stumble out at a tiny, abandoned station. You can't even buy a ticket here if you need one. And the next train back to Gubbio is not for another hour. Where is Steph, to fall on the floor laughing with? This IS funny, right?
Well? What can you do. I called Fausto - who had to leave and go to his office for a patient (he's a dentist) - and told him I'd be back in Gubbio in an hour.
I eventually made it back there, and I think Fausto saw the humor in the story when I explained it later. I wasn't quite sure yet that I did, since I inconvenienced someone else.
But of course, the Raven found the whole adventure amusing.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 7:58 AM
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Saturday June 21 2008
Today's the day. No more rehearsing. Half Hour call at 8:30 PM, show starts at 9 PM.
We sound people do have the stage from 3 PM until then for sound, and we use all of that, getting the last choir microphones in place, dressing the cables, checking the channels on the board. We run through all of the wireless microphones again, and the band comes in at 6:00 for a thorough sound check - as thorough as we can get at the last minutes. The sound system is rocking, it really sounds good in there, crisp and clean. Then one by one the speakers and singers take their turns on their microphones. So far, everything is working, everything sounds good, though we just haven't had enough time to find all the problems that can happen. The choir gets on stage in their positions, and belts out a song. They sound magnificent!
The stage is cleared and the house opens at 8 PM, and people begin to trickle in. Andreas and I stay up by the sound board... and wait. Nothing to do but wait now. I always get a little nervous at the first preview of the show - my only shot to get things right: am I going to hit all the cues right? Are all the microphones going to work? (One show in Russia, seven, count them, SEVEN microphones got turned off at the top of Act 2) And then the next night, Opening Night, I am fine. But I haven't had a real preview. This is it. But so far tonight, I'm not nervous. And if anything goes wrong, Andreas is right beside me wearing a headset to communicate with the sound guys on stage. Ron will be there too; I'll be mainly working with the vocals, and he'll be mixing the band (guitar, bass, drums, piano, organ).
I'm not superstitious or anything, but the Raven (who is good luck himself) is wearing a necklace made of the blue eye beads prevalent here to ward off the Evil Eye. Doesn't hurt.
Backstage, Reverend Earl says a prayer with everybody in a circle... "God has blessed us again to come together... ("Yes, yes!")... And through the YEARS! - it's been a long time now... ("Yes, yes!") ... I pray that Everybody will be blessed; but not only that, I pray that Somebody will be saved. Thank you for the opportunity again." Amen!
The theatre starts filling. It's not sold out (there were rumors), but there's a good crowd here. Usually when we do a week run somewhere, by the end of the week the show is packed because the word gets out. Here, it's only one shot, so if word gets around - and it will - it's too late.
At "5 minutes to places," I'm checking the microphones via my headphones, one by one. At "Places, please," okay, I'm a little nervous. All of my mics sound like they are working, but then with sound, you never really know for sure until you bring the mic up and the actor speaks on stage.
The lights dim... the show begins. Ohmigod, this is it. Butch comes onto stage and sits down at his organ - this is my first bundle of nerves - and starts playing... and, yes! The organ is coming out of the speakers. That means that yes, the sound system board and house speakers are really working. So far so good. The choir members in their bright colored choir robes begin coming in the house, moving to the stage; the actors, singers move onto the stage, greeting each other and the audience as if they were part of the congregation of the church. Then Reverend Earl enters - this is where my second bundle of nerves attacks... I bring up his microphone, and...
"Think no longer that you are in command here."
Yeahoo, it works!
"But rather think how when you were, you served your own destruction. Good evening, and welcome brothers and sisters..."
Okay, my nerves are gone for the evening. So far things are working and I just have to remember all the cues in the show, but that's on autopilot now.
And The Gospel at Colonus goes on, brilliantly. I think the show has never sounded better, and I don't know that it's ever been performed better. Jimmy is exceptional his first time as Oedipus tonight, as is Ben Moore - his first time to do the show. Everybody is just brilliant. The music is deeply moving, the harmonies spot on. Half the cast was in tears on the stage during half the show - but they were still able to sing gloriously. By the end of the show, the entire audience is up on their feet, dancing and clapping with the singers on stage - none of them want it to end and none of them want to sit down.
My only regret is that I never really see the show. I'm concentrating so hard on the sound - I don't really see anything other than the sound. Which is a shame, because Jason's lights and the video projections on the old stone walls are terrific.
For over two thousand four hundred years the Acropolis has stood sentinel over the thousands of plays in the theatres beneath it, as actors and singers have entertained, educated, provoked and moved crowds - rage, joy, enlightenment, love, dispair. Tonight we took our place in this honored and honorable procession.
We were afraid we might offend the Greeks with our interpretation of their play. I don't think we did. Many Greeks in the audience were in tears at the end of the show. "Showers of joy," said one patron. While the cast was in tears during much of the show, I was too, at the end, clapping for it all - Colonus, Athens, my friends, my family with such talent and power to move people, my being blessed at being a part of this.
"Now let the weeping cease - let no one mourn again - for these things are in the hands of God."
We didn't bring down the Acropolis, but its stones and its Gods will remember us.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 2:13 PM
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Friday June 20 2008
Does it get any better than this? Standing right in front of Bern (or anybody) when she is (or they are) singing.
The Raven is pretty excited about having the show in this ancient theatre.
The Raven helps Andreas at the sound board.
The Raven tests the wireless microphones.
It is punishingly hot in the theatre mid-afternoons.
How many men does it take to lift a grand piano up onto a riser? In this case, at least 7.
"Oh, sure, everybody else gets to eat hors d'oeuvres with the Ambassador, and all I get is this lousy stale sandwich."
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 3:59 AM
Friday June 20 2008
"Think No Longer That You Are In Command Here" (spoken by the Reverend)
We can put a man on the moon, but we can't make wireless microphones work flawlessly just anywhere, like here in the Herodus Atticus theatre in Athens. All of the handheld mics, all 13 of them, are getting RF interference - either buzzing when they are spoken into, or dropping out all together. Not what you can have happen during a show. Different possible solutions are tried, but none of them are working. We will try to get a new system with new wireless mics by this evening's runthrough. Maybe they will arrive here, maybe they won't. The wireless headsets are their own problems - they are not the omnidirectional mics we asked for (meaning if they slightly get moved out of position away from the mouth, the volume changes drastically), and gold colored instead of black, which will stand out on dark skin! We try to get them ready to use, just in case we are stuck with them.
Maybe the piano will arrive here this afternoon... and maybe it won't arrive until Saturday. And when it does arrive, it will need tuning, which will take two hours. Maybe it will get done before tonight's sound checks begin at 8 and the dress rehearsal begins at 9 PM. Maybe it won't.
I finally have all the microphones for the choir ready to go at 5 PM after 2 hours of work, and then Lee the director decides he wants everything changed. So we'll change it. Maybe we'll get the extra mics for the choir we need tomorrow afternoon, maybe we won't.
A lot of this is out of our hands. We don't know if Apollo (Greek God of Music and Poetry - and by the way, the Crow was his bird) or Dionysus (God of festivals) have any say in this matter, but we hope they are on our side.
"Should I Weep For My Own Misfortune or For Yours?" (spoken by Polyneices)
I can't take the heat, and it is excruciatingly white-hot in the theatre in the afternoon. Even the Raven feels the heat.
The marble steps in the house are very steep (and if I slip and fall, it will be very painful), and I seem to be going up them to the sound board and down them to the stage a LOT. In the heat. The first day, full of energy, I ran up the steps. Now it's a slog.
There's no time to eat anything after 2 PM when we get to the theatre, until we get home at 3-4 AM. At 11:30 PM, Ron comes up to the sound board and says, "Hey, they brought you a sandwich! It's backstage." Oh, excellent! My evening brightened and my energy level rose in anticipation. When Ron came up to the soundboard a half hour later, he said, "They threw your sandwich away." Very sad.
Sleep is at a minimum.
Not complaining or anything (right?), just pointing out some of the obvious suffering and misfortunes that always go with the Gospel, which I am happy to be here experiencing.
On the other hand, I really have no cause to weep in Athens, because I've had it far worse. In Athens I am fortunate to have my sound designer Ron here (he could not make it to our show in Moscow - a near-disaster still painful to contemplate), and I am fortunate to have good and pleasant local sound guys to work with (which was not the case at a famous theatre which shall not be named - and which is still an ulcerous memory). Andreas here knows his sound board like I know my horse, and if there are any problems during the show, he'll be right here to help (as will the Raven).
"Gods, I pray you, be compassionate!" (spoken by Antigone)
"God, help us all!" (spoken by Oedipus)
Our one full dress rehearsal begins around 9 PM.
We are only using about half the microphones that we will be using for the show, (hoping to get the rest in tomorrow afternoon) which means things are nowhere near full volume; and even so, one of the festival guys comes up to the sound board and says, "The archaeologist who is here says we can only be at 100 decibels. We are at 104 right now." I can only widen my eyes as a response. I know how loud this show can get during certain numbers. Maybe what Bern said in jest, "We're going to bring down the Acropolis!" is not far from the truth. Indeed, this one show may be our only show here! (Tomorrow's headlines around the world: "Colonus Brings Down Acropolis!")
We only barely make it through Act I by midnight, and though we rehearse till 3 AM again, we can't use the sound system because of the midnight noise ordinance. Which means, more or less, I will be winging everything for all of Act II tomorrow night during our only show.
Gods, let everything somehow come together, like it always does, by 9 PM tomorrow evening!
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 1:15 AM
Monday, June 23, 2008
Thursday June 19 2008
A rehearsal space has been rented - a gym that is 45 minutes away. It is too hot in the outdoor theatre during the day to rehearse the show, and besides, every spare moment there is taken up with setting up and testing lighting and sound gear.
The most important thing for me as the sound mixer is to re-learn the show (with the new singer Ben, and with Jimmy taking the lead as Oedipus, and, every time we do the show, it changes a little bit), so I go along with the cast to the rehearsal space in a special bus.
Even though the acoustics in the gym are terrible, oh my lord the SOUND those singers make in there! It bounces around and shakes the rafters, and of course I run around on 'stage' and put my ears right in front of everybody who sings - the Abyssinian choir (20 voices - LORDY!), the Steeles, the Blind Boys, the Soul Stirrers - I get waves and waves of huge goose bumps all afternoon. Even Bern has goosebumps - "Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Somebody's going to have to hold me down at the theatre because I'm just going to run around screaming! We're going to bring down the walls of the Acropolis!"
Where DO these voices come from? Where DO these musicians get their talent? During the 10-minute breaks, composer Bob on the piano and drummer Leroy start jamming. Everybody grooves to it and wants the breaks to continue. Stage manager Babette announces, "We are back, everybody," and the guys keep jamming. If Joey's on his guitar and Ben's on his bass, they will sometimes join in and play along too, and they could all play for days, improvising as they go along. They can even hold a conversation while they are playing. How can they do that?? It's just in their bones. They compose pieces of terrific aural art, notes, phrases, tunes, created in an instant, existing for the moment, and then they are gone, never to be heard or re-created the same way again, and I am lucky to be right there to hear them. These people just blow me away. And it's not just me and Bern who feel the magic and force behind the music - everybody is running around like giddy groupies with their cameras taking pictures of everybody.
When Ben Moore sings his verse of Lift Me Up, it blows your hat off your head. Then for the first time, Jimmy sings all of A Voice Foretold in the lead roll, with Jevetta and with the other Blind Boys as backup. Everybody gets goosebumps during and after the song, and it's such a stunning rendition, and dead on the first time, that afterwards people are high fiving each other and laughing - I mean, what else can you do but laugh, that you get to be here with your family for this. It almost brings me to tears - and this is just for practice, in a smelly basketball gym! Bern says, "I hope I don't start bawling during the show, because I can't sing when I cry!" And the show gets so emotional, that she does cry every time. But this one is in Greece!
We limp through the first act - it's impossible to re-create a 3-dimensional stage on a 1-dimensional gym floor. Jimmy will have to be negotiating steps by himself (everybody is terrified he will fall), and Lee is desperate to get the cast on stage for a real rehearsal. There's a special dinner for everybody at the Ambassador's residence tonight at 8:30 PM, which can't be blown off; then the day would have been over. But that all gets changed.
The cast will go to the dinner, then come to the theatre for a rehearsal starting at 11 PM until 3 AM, with the band coming in for a partial sound check at 10:30 PM. The schedule sounds dreadful, but it has to be done, because we simply have no other time to do this. The run-through won't help me much, because all our sound equipment won't be ready, and besides, there is a midnight curfew on loud music, festival or no. I can only watch the rehearsal, and mix in my head.
I skip the fancy reception and instead go back to work at the theatre as soon as the bus brings us all back to the hotel. I grab a stale sandwich from a little stand outside the theatre, and that has to do me till tomorrow's breakfast. The cast comes in from their soiree with the Ambassador. They all got goodie bags, like Goodie bags the Oscar attendees get. Hmmm. Well, I don't wear perfume anyway. I look in Butch's bag to see if he brought an extra sandwich along, but he said there were only hors d'oeuvres at the party.
The cast rehearses till 3:15 AM. The actors get through the play, with little chances to do many things a second time. Jason is not finished writing all the light cues. We're still days away from having all the sound equipment in place (or even at the theatre) and working correctly.
I still don't see how all this is going to come together in less than 40 hours. You have a lot of control over art, but sometimes you have no choice with technology - especially when you just don't have time to work with it. This has to be a perfect show, but I just don't see how that is going to happen.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 11:53 AM
Wednesday June 18 2008
OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG: That was the subject of my email to actress/singer Bernardine in April when it was definite we were coming to Athens with our Gospel at Colonus show.
"OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod!" is all Bern can say when she first steps on the stage of the Herodus Atticus Theatre Tuesday evening, the white marble seats rising up to meet the walls of the Acropolis, the roof of the Parthenon peeking over the ledge. "Somebody pinch me, this isn't going to hit me till I get home, OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod, I've got goosebumps, I can't take it all in!"
All of the actors/singers walk around the stage and theatre for the first time, as if in a daze, everybody taking pictures. I don't think anybody can believe we are really here. Lee the director walks a few of them through some of the blocking on stage and has the Blind Boys sing one of the songs. There are no microphones or instruments, it's all a cappella for now. Being the sound engineer whose job it is to know the voices well, I sit right between four of the Blind Boys of Alabama on stage, while they, along with Jevetta, sing one of the marvelous songs. (Well, okay, I already know their voices well - the real reason I sit there right between them is - BECAUSE I CAN!)
They start to sing, and even at less than full show volume and energy, their perfectly blended beautiful voices shake my insides like thunder and I get goosebumps as big as Mt Olympos, because I am SITTING BETWEEN THE SINGING BLIND BOYS OF ALABAMA ON STAGE UNDERNEATH THE ACROPOLIS. It is, simply, stunning, one of those moments that will stay with me forever. Such powerful, moving, intense music should not be possible with voices alone, but it is.
OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod - we are really here.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 7:04 AM
Tuesday June 17 2008
Switching from horses to theatre this week...
The Gospel at Colonus is coming home: to Athens, to the Herodus Atticus Theatre, an outdoor amphitheatre, underneath the Acropolis.
This play is a black gospel musical version of Sophocles' tragedy, Oedipus at Colonus, that premiered 2408 years ago in the Theatre of Dionysos - the ruins of which are 100 yards away. Sophocles was in the chorus. He walked, right where we are walking, and did this play, as we will do.
Once every two or three years, the Gospel calls, and we all - about 35 of us regulars - drop everything that we are doing, and we come - to Russia or Brazil or Vienna or Michigan or Harlem or Salt Lake City or Athens. And we have come from all over the US: this time about 55 of us in total (including the choir), from New York, California, Minnesota, Georgia, Delaware, Chicago, and Idaho (that's me).
And it's the 25th anniversary of our show. And it will be a full moon while we are here. And it's the summer solstice. All signs point to us being right where we should be.
It's not just the way the story is presented that is good, and unique - as preached in a black church - and it's not just the music that is astonishingly good; it's the Colonus family that is the essence of this event. I've been a privileged part of this family for twelve years, joining them in Seattle in 1995 as the sound engineer. The talent in the show is extraordinary: different gospel choirs have performed in it (the Abyssinian choir from Harlem being the featured choir the last few years); there's the Steele family from Minneapolis; the Soul Stirrers from Chicago; and members of the Blind Boys of Alabama; not to mention other amazingly gifted solo singers, and musicians.
It's going to be crazy - a tight set up and tech and rehearsal schedule - for a one night show. One of the Blind Boys, who has done the show since the beginning, Clarence, is not coming, due to poor health and the rigors of travel and rehearsal. Taking his part is the other main Blind Boy, Jimmy. Filling other actors' and singers' and musicians' parts is nothing for this cast - everybody pretty much knows everybody's lines and instruments. Heck, even I can quote the entire show. Saying and singing Clarence's lines will be the easy part; but literally stepping into Clarence's shoes will be difficult, because Jimmy is (as Clarence is), blind. He's never seen where Oedipus stands or walks during the show. He'll have to learn that in a very short time. Not to mention we have stairs on half of this stage. Moreover, a completely new singer is joining the show. Ben Moore has been with the Blind Boys for 2 years, but he's never done the Gospel. He steps into Jimmy's shoes... and since he's blind also, this will be another gigantic literal leap.
And, this is the biggest stage we have EVER been on. It's at least double in size. There are not just 2 entrances to the stage to work with, but 5 (or 13, if you count the entrances from the house, and I bet you the director will use them). Which means all the blocking (positioning) on stage must be re-created, (and reproduced consistently by all, including the Blind Boys); all the light cues rewritten; and every new space presents new problems with wireless microphone systems, and there are at least 30 wireless mics on this show.
And there's just no time to get everything set up - there is never enough time, but somehow, it all comes together in the end. But this one show is particularly important - every time we get together and do the show, we think it really might be our last. And if this is our last one, and since it is coming home where it belongs, it's so important that it is perfect. We feel we must honor not only the Greeks with their own play, but the Gods that let us come here.
How will we get it all done in time for the Saturday night performance?
At our tech meeting, there are many furrowed brows, much frowning and rubbing of foreheads. We just don't have the time we need. Lights needs... Sound needs... Stage managers need... The director needs... I need to see a runthrough, to see who is singing and saying what parts. It always changes a little bit every show anyway, and now I'll have new microphones to bring up in different places, and new voices to try to balance.
And the whole thing is an acute tease. All this work for ONE SHOW. One exquisite, perhaps last performance, perhaps the last time this family ever gets together; and here, in this monumental, sacred place. It is like taking one bite of Ben and Jerry's Coffee Toffee Crunch ice cream, and putting the pint back. It is like taking one small sip of the perfect cappuchino, and giving the rest of the cup back.
But still it is a gift from the Gods, this small gift we offer back, and we all feel privileged to be here.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 1:12 AM
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Saturday June 24 2008
Nice day for an endurance ride in Sweden, and nice people to have it amongst!
Here's a few pictures.
For the detailed ride story, see
and for more photos, see
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 3:17 AM
Friday June 13 2008
My first afternoon in Växjö, I immediately got a taste of the "typical Swedish summer": clouds, showers, sun, changing every 15 minutes. It gets cool enough for a jacket, then warm enough to take it off, every 15 minutes. Then, there were the GNOTS. Or, gnats, as we call them, and nasty buggers they were. Persistent, vicious, and lots of them, biting anything they could get their snouts on. "They just came out!" Michael swore. "We haven't had any all summer until just now. They will be gone in a few days." Magnus was prepared with bug juice and we all took turns running to him in desperation and borrowing it.
The gnots would stick around for ride day, though it was only in the forest at a few of the crew points, that they really attacked us. Mercifully, they were absent at Bergunda where all the Vet Gates and Finish would be.
There would be two stables and starting lines, one for the 160 km and 120 km horses in Ingelstad, and one for the 80 km and 50 km horses 20 km away in Bergunda.
The Ingelstad stables are on the grounds of an agricultural school at which Yvonne teaches classes on endurance riding. Vet inspections began in a field by the stabling barns at 5 PM for the 160 km and 120 km horses, followed by a ride meeting with the veterinarians and ride organizers.
One of the horses that stood out at the inspections - and how could she not - was Norwegian Olaug Carstensen's Nelly av Espeli. It's a Norwegian fjord, one of only two I saw at the ride, and the only one in the 160 km. Maybe not exactly the breed of horse you expect to see doing 160's, but, "You wait," said Alam. "That horse will still be going at the end." Olaug won the Nordic-Baltic Championships in Finland 3 weeks ago, and she will be putting on the Sør-Vest Rittet (South West Ride) in Gyland, Norway in September, which will be the pre-ride for next year's Nordic-Baltic Championships.
Jessica Homberg would be riding Princess Millenia in the 160 km; she was second by a nose in the Nordic-Baltic Championships, coming on at the very last seconds and just missing the win.
Third in the same Nordic-Baltic Championships was Norwegian Ellen Suhr on her gelding Elcapero. Endurance riders in Europe tend to drive long distances for rides, and perhaps the Driving Prize for this Dackeritten ride goes to the Suhrs, for coming 2300 miles. While they do have stables now near Oslo, Andalouisa and Sven live in the north of Norway, about as close to the Arctic Circle as you can get. And they go to a lot of rides to crew for their daughter - apparently they just get used to all the driving.
The vets and organizers moved to the stables at Bergunda, where the vetting in of the 80 km and 50 km rides began. Riders and crews set up crewing spaces in the vetting arena, and rest areas in the yellow field behind the vet ring, getting everything ready for the morning.
And it would be an early morning: at Ingelstad the 160 km ride would begin at 5 AM, and the 120 km Young Riders at 5:30 AM, and the 120 km riders at 6:30 AM. At Bergunda, the 80 km riders wouldn't start till 9 AM (!) and the 50 km riders at 11:30 AM. I'd be coming in with Yvonne in the morning, which meant leaving the house at 4 AM. (ACK!) Which meant getting up at 3:50 AM. (ACK!).
Back home, the chores don't stop; horses still had to be put in stables and fed, kids put to bed, and another meal cooked for a house full of guests again. Yvonne never seems to stop, or get tired.
It wasn't completely dark yet when I crawled in bed by 11 PM, so at least it felt like I'd be getting a good, long, night's sleep.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 2:51 AM
Monday, June 16, 2008
Friday June 13 2008
The Dackeritten ride takes place near Växjö, Sweden, and don't even ask me to try to spell that out phonetically. I asked how to pronounce it, many times, and I worked on it all weekend. I got lots of giggles and lots of help... but I don't think I ever got it right. Suffice it to say, only the "V" makes a "V" sound. The rest - you're on your own.
There's a lot of history here - from the vikings who left an old grave marker in a field near Yvonne's house, to Dackeritten - a rebel back in the 1500's who wanted this part of Sweden to remain Danish, and who got chopped to pieces for it, to the farming Swedish who fell on hard times in the early 1900's and moved in droves to Minnesota.
Yvonne and Michael live on such an old homestead, with fields full of 2 dozen horses, a new house built by Michael (still in progress), a couple of older houses that they rent out - the dark red color I came to see as typical of Sweden - and a barn. Yvonne's father raced trotters - a popular sport here in Sweden - and there's a week-old trotter foal in the front pasture, with the longest spider legs I've ever seen on a baby. And you couldn't miss the very pregnant gray Arabian mare in the same pasture that was due to pop any day.
Yvonne and Michael's Stall Peak Enterprise on their Rävagård Farm breeds and trains Arabians for international endurance racing. Stall Peak was established in 1995, and has won 11 medals over the years in the Swedish, Nordic-Baltic, and World championships. Yvonne rode her first endurance race in 1993, after beginning riding as a child, and competing in show jumping and trotting races for ponies.
Hanging from a doorway in the house is a cluster of 14 of Yvonne's endurance medals. "When I reach 20, I will quit." "Quit? No more riding!?" "Yes!" "Why?" She shrugged. I wasn't sure she was serious. Once you start endurance riding, can you ever really quit? She's most proud of the bronze Swedish team medal from Compiegne in 2000. She'll be riding her mare Karmenzita on the 160 km ride Saturday. They were 2nd in last year's Swedish championship.
One person Yvonne will be trying to beat is Ingrid Boström. Ingrid's been Swedish champion a number of times, and she sometimes serves as coach for the senior Swedish riders. From near Stockholm (a 6 hour drive with a trailer), she has 7 horses; she prefers younger ones around 4-5 that she can start. Her mount, the 7 year old gelding Kurir, is doing his first 160 km. He's certainly impressive looking - tall (16.2 hands at least) and strong. He should be fit; he's done 3 120's. Her husband Matts is along to crew.
Ingrid started riding endurance in 1986. She has no interest in going to the Malaysia World Endurance Championship in November, for a number of reasons. "It's too hard on a horse, and takes too much time - I have 6 other horses at home - and maybe you can't even bring your horse back, with the quarantine restrictions." Plus it's too expensive, and the Swedish federation doesn't pay their riders' expenses. Instead, she's looking ahead to Assisi next year (where rumors are the 2009 European Championships might be held).
I asked Ingrid what she thought about the world record time for the 160 km in Dubai this winter. "It's different there. In Dubai you have a flat, perfect track, not a stone. Everything is perfect, from the vet gate, to the distance you have to walk anywhere, to the card swipe system - it's all made to go fast. You can't compare it to a ride in Sweden, or to most places." The ride here may average 15 km/h, but not over 20 - it's not that kind of course.
Sweden has 200-300 endurance riders, and zero to three 160 km rides a year. If Swedish riders want to do more 160 km rides, they have to travel to Denmark, Finland, Norway, or Poland... and there aren't that many there either. Nothing is a short distance from Scandinavia.
This is the 6th time the Dackeritten ride has been put on, but the first time for a 160 km, and the Swedish Championships. In addition, there would be a 120 km for seniors and a 120 km for Juniors and Young Riders (young rider team coach Eva Borg would be watching this ride closely, seeing which riders qualify to be selected for the Junior Endurance Championship in Spain in September), a 120 km for seniors, and 80 km, and a 50 km. There are riders from Sweden, Norway, 2 from Finland, and 1 from Denmark.
Team Thomsen came from Denmark to crew for their sister Maja on the YR 120 km, and to help Yvonne. Maja would be riding Yvonne's Polish Arabian stallion, Wierusz.
When you see Team Thomsen - a family affair with father, brother, and sisters - you immediately see people who enjoy what they are doing. Joining them is Alam Dar Dastani, who matches their enthusiasm, and brings boundless optimism with him. Alam's background is in show jumping, in which he won a gold medal in India. His uncle is master farrier Mustafa, and through him, he not only learned much of his shoeing skills, but he got a job in Dubai working for Shaikh Mohammed's stables for several years. The Thomsens train and ride endurance horses, and, pooling their experiences in international competition and training and shoeing, they give endurance seminars in the Scandinavian countries. The brother and sisters and Alam may be young, but with endurance as their passion and with their inexhaustible drive and attitude, you just feel any goal is attainable that they put their minds to.
Posted by The Equestrian Vagabond at 11:55 PM